This is a modern-English version of History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire — Volume 5, originally written by Gibbon, Edward. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

Scroll to the bottom of this page and you will find a free ePUB download link for this book.





HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

Edward Gibbon, Esq.



Vol. 5

1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)










CONTENTS


Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.    Part V.    Part VI.

     Introduction, Worship, And Persecution Of Images.—Revolt Of
     Italy And Rome.—Temporal Dominion Of The Popes.—Conquest
     Of Italy By The Franks.—Establishment Of Images.—Character
     And Coronation Of Charlemagne.—Restoration And Decay Of The
     Roman Empire In The West.—Independence Of Italy.—
     Constitution Of The Germanic Body.


Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.    Part V.    Part VI.    Part VII.    Part VIII.

     Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Birth,
     Character, And Doctrine Of Mahomet.—He Preaches At Mecca.—
     Flies To Medina.—Propagates His Religion By The Sword.—
     Voluntary Or Reluctant Submission Of The Arabs.—His Death
     And Successors.—The Claims And Fortunes Of Ali And His
     Descendants.


Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.    Part V.    Part VI.    Part VII.    Part VIII.    Part IX.

     The Conquest Of Persia, Syria, Egypt, Africa, And Spain, By
     The Arabs Or Saracens.—Empire Of The Caliphs, Or Successors
     Of Mahomet.—State Of The Christians, &c., Under Their
     Government.


Chapter LII: More Conquests By The Arabs.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.    Part V.

     The Two Sieges Of Constantinople By The Arabs.—Their
     Invasion Of France, And Defeat By Charles Martel.—Civil War
     Of The Ommiades And Abbassides.—Learning Of The Arabs.—
     Luxury Of The Caliphs.—Naval Enterprises On Crete, Sicily,
     And Rome.—Decay And Division Of The Empire Of The Caliphs.—
     Defeats And Victories Of The Greek Emperors.


Chapter LIII: Fate Of The Eastern Empire.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.

     Fate Of The Eastern Empire In The Tenth Century.—Extent And
     Division.—Wealth And Revenue.—Palace Of Constantinople.—
     Titles And Offices.—Pride And Power Of The Emperors.—
     Tactics Of The Greeks, Arabs, And Franks.—Loss Of The Latin
     Tongue.—Studies And Solitude Of The Greeks.


Chapter LIV: Origin And Doctrine Of The Paulicians.—Part I.    Part II.

     Origin And Doctrine Of The Paulicians.—Their Persecution By
     The Greek Emperors.—Revolt In Armenia &c.—Transplantation
     Into Thrace.—Propagation In The West.—The Seeds,
     Character, And Consequences Of The Reformation.


Chapter LV: The Bulgarians, The Hungarians And The Russians.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.

     The Bulgarians.—Origin, Migrations, And Settlement Of The
     Hungarians.—Their Inroads In The East And West.—The
     Monarchy Of Russia.—Geography And Trade.—Wars Of The
     Russians Against The Greek Empire.—Conversion Of The
     Barbarians.


Chapter LVI: The Saracens, The Franks And The Normans.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.    Part V.

     The Saracens, Franks, And Greeks, In Italy.—First
     Adventures And Settlement Of The Normans.—Character And
     Conquest Of Robert Guiscard, Duke Of Apulia—Deliverance Of
     Sicily By His Brother Roger.—Victories Of Robert Over The
     Emperors Of The East And West.—Roger, King Of Sicily,
     Invades Africa And Greece.—The Emperor Manuel Comnenus.—
     Wars Of The Greeks And Normans.—Extinction Of The Normans.


Chapter LVII: The Turks.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.

     The Turks Of The House Of Seljuk.—Their Revolt Against
     Mahmud Conqueror Of Hindostan.—Togrul Subdues Persia, And
     Protects The Caliphs.—Defeat And Captivity Of The Emperor
     Romanus Diogenes By Alp Arslan.—Power And Magnificence Of
     Malek Shah.—Conquest Of Asia Minor And Syria.—State And
     Oppression Of Jerusalem.—Pilgrimages To The Holy Sepulchre.


Chapter LVIII: The First Crusade.—Part I.    Part II.    Part III.    Part IV.    Part V.

     Origin And Numbers Of The First Crusade.—Characters Of The
     Latin Princes.—Their March To Constantinople.—Policy Of
     The Greek Emperor Alexius.—Conquest Of Nice, Antioch, And
     Jerusalem, By The Franks.—Deliverance Of The Holy
     Sepulchre.—Godfrey Of Bouillon, First King Of Jerusalem.—
     Institutions Of The French Or Latin Kingdom.


CONTENTS


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__

     Introduction, Worship, and Persecution of Images. — Revolt of Italy and Rome. — Temporal Power of the Popes. — Conquest of Italy by the Franks. — Establishment of Images. — Character and Coronation of Charlemagne. — Restoration and Decline of the Roman Empire in the West. — Independence of Italy. — Constitution of the Germanic Body.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__

     Description of Arabia and Its Inhabitants. — Birth, Character, and Beliefs of Muhammad. — He Preaches in Mecca. — Flees to Medina. — Spreads His Religion by Force. — The Willing or Unwilling Submission of the Arabs. — His Death and Successors. — The Claims and Fates of Ali and His Descendants.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_22__

     The Conquest of Persia, Syria, Egypt, Africa, and Spain by the Arabs or Saracens. — Empire of the Caliphs, or Successors of Muhammad. — Condition of the Christians, etc., Under Their Rule.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_23__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_24__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_25__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_26__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_27__

     The Two Sieges of Constantinople by the Arabs. — Their invasion of France and defeat by Charles Martel. — Civil war of the Ommiades and Abbassides. — Learning and knowledge of the Arabs. — Luxury of the caliphs. — Naval operations in Crete, Sicily, and Rome. — Decline and division of the caliphate empire. — Defeats and victories of the Greek emperors.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_28__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_29__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_30__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_31__

     Fate of the Eastern Empire in the Tenth Century. — Extent and Division. — Wealth and Revenue. — Palace of Constantinople. — Titles and Offices. — Pride and Power of the Emperors. — Tactics of the Greeks, Arabs, and Franks. — Loss of the Latin Language. — Studies and Solitude of the Greeks.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_32__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_33__

     Origin and Beliefs of the Paulicians. — Their Persecution by the Greek Emperors. — Revolt in Armenia, etc. — Relocation to Thrace. — Spread in the West. — The Roots, Nature, and Outcomes of the Reformation.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_34__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_35__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_36__

     The Bulgarians. — Origin, Migrations, and Settlement of the Hungarians. — Their Invasions in the East and West. — The Monarchy of Russia. — Geography and Trade. — Wars of the Russians Against the Greek Empire. — Conversion of the Barbarians.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_37__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_38__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_39__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_40__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_41__

     The Saracens, Franks, and Greeks in Italy. — Initial adventures and settlement of the Normans. — The character and conquests of Robert Guiscard, Duke of Apulia. — The liberation of Sicily by his brother Roger. — Robert's victories over the Emperors of the East and West. — Roger, King of Sicily, invades Africa and Greece. — Emperor Manuel Comnenus. — Conflicts between the Greeks and Normans. — The decline of the Normans.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_42__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_43__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_44__

     The Turks of the House of Seljuk. — Their revolt against Mahmud, conqueror of Hindostan. — Togrul subdues Persia and protects the Caliphs. — Defeat and capture of Emperor Romanus Diogenes by Alp Arslan. — Power and magnificence of Malek Shah. — Conquest of Asia Minor and Syria. — State and oppression of Jerusalem. — Pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre.


__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_45__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_46__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_47__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_48__   __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_49__

     Origin and Numbers of the First Crusade. — Characteristics of the Latin Princes. — Their March to Constantinople. — Policy of the Greek Emperor Alexius. — Conquest of Nice, Antioch, and Jerusalem by the Franks. — Liberation of the Holy Sepulchre. — Godfrey of Bouillon, First King of Jerusalem. — Institutions of the French or Latin Kingdom.











Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part I.

     Introduction, Worship, And Persecution Of Images.—Revolt Of
     Italy And Rome.—Temporal Dominion Of The Popes.—Conquest
     Of Italy By The Franks.—Establishment Of Images.—Character
     And Coronation Of Charlemagne.—Restoration And Decay Of The
     Roman Empire In The West.—Independence Of Italy.—
     Constitution Of The Germanic Body.
     Introduction, Worship, and Persecution of Images.—Revolt of
     Italy and Rome.—Worldly Power of the Popes.—Conquest
     of Italy by the Franks.—Establishment of Images.—Character
     and Coronation of Charlemagne.—Restoration and Decline of the
     Roman Empire in the West.—Independence of Italy.—
     Constitution of the Germanic Body.

In the connection of the church and state, I have considered the former as subservient only, and relative, to the latter; a salutary maxim, if in fact, as well as in narrative, it had ever been held sacred. The Oriental philosophy of the Gnostics, the dark abyss of predestination and grace, and the strange transformation of the Eucharist from the sign to the substance of Christ's body, I have purposely abandoned to the curiosity of speculative divines. But I have reviewed, with diligence and pleasure, the objects of ecclesiastical history, by which the decline and fall of the Roman empire were materially affected, the propagation of Christianity, the constitution of the Catholic church, the ruin of Paganism, and the sects that arose from the mysterious controversies concerning the Trinity and incarnation. At the head of this class, we may justly rank the worship of images, so fiercely disputed in the eighth and ninth centuries; since a question of popular superstition produced the revolt of Italy, the temporal power of the popes, and the restoration of the Roman empire in the West.

In the relationship between church and state, I've viewed the church as primarily serving and relating to the state; a beneficial principle, if it had ever truly been respected in both practice and story. I've intentionally set aside the Eastern philosophy of the Gnostics, the deep issues of predestination and grace, and the unusual change of the Eucharist from a symbol to the actual body of Christ, leaving those to the curiosity of speculative theologians. However, I have carefully and enjoyably examined the aspects of church history that significantly influenced the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, the spread of Christianity, the formation of the Catholic Church, the collapse of Paganism, and the sects that emerged from the complex debates about the Trinity and incarnation. At the forefront of this discussion, we can rightly place the worship of images, which was hotly contested in the eighth and ninth centuries; this issue of popular superstition led to the rebellion in Italy, the temporal power of the popes, and the revival of the Roman Empire in the West.

The primitive Christians were possessed with an unconquerable repugnance to the use and abuse of images; and this aversion may be ascribed to their descent from the Jews, and their enmity to the Greeks. The Mosaic law had severely proscribed all representations of the Deity; and that precept was firmly established in the principles and practice of the chosen people. The wit of the Christian apologists was pointed against the foolish idolaters, who bowed before the workmanship of their own hands; the images of brass and marble, which, had they been endowed with sense and motion, should have started rather from the pedestal to adore the creative powers of the artist. Perhaps some recent and imperfect converts of the Gnostic tribe might crown the statues of Christ and St. Paul with the profane honors which they paid to those of Aristotle and Pythagoras; but the public religion of the Catholics was uniformly simple and spiritual; and the first notice of the use of pictures is in the censure of the council of Illiberis, three hundred years after the Christian æra. Under the successors of Constantine, in the peace and luxury of the triumphant church, the more prudent bishops condescended to indulge a visible superstition, for the benefit of the multitude; and, after the ruin of Paganism, they were no longer restrained by the apprehension of an odious parallel. The first introduction of a symbolic worship was in the veneration of the cross, and of relics. The saints and martyrs, whose intercession was implored, were seated on the right hand of God; but the gracious and often supernatural favors, which, in the popular belief, were showered round their tomb, conveyed an unquestionable sanction of the devout pilgrims, who visited, and touched, and kissed these lifeless remains, the memorials of their merits and sufferings. But a memorial, more interesting than the skull or the sandals of a departed worthy, is the faithful copy of his person and features, delineated by the arts of painting or sculpture. In every age, such copies, so congenial to human feelings, have been cherished by the zeal of private friendship, or public esteem: the images of the Roman emperors were adored with civil, and almost religious, honors; a reverence less ostentatious, but more sincere, was applied to the statues of sages and patriots; and these profane virtues, these splendid sins, disappeared in the presence of the holy men, who had died for their celestial and everlasting country. At first, the experiment was made with caution and scruple; and the venerable pictures were discreetly allowed to instruct the ignorant, to awaken the cold, and to gratify the prejudices of the heathen proselytes. By a slow though inevitable progression, the honors of the original were transferred to the copy: the devout Christian prayed before the image of a saint; and the Pagan rites of genuflection, luminaries, and incense, again stole into the Catholic church. The scruples of reason, or piety, were silenced by the strong evidence of visions and miracles; and the pictures which speak, and move, and bleed, must be endowed with a divine energy, and may be considered as the proper objects of religious adoration. The most audacious pencil might tremble in the rash attempt of defining, by forms and colors, the infinite Spirit, the eternal Father, who pervades and sustains the universe. But the superstitious mind was more easily reconciled to paint and to worship the angels, and, above all, the Son of God, under the human shape, which, on earth, they have condescended to assume. The second person of the Trinity had been clothed with a real and mortal body; but that body had ascended into heaven: and, had not some similitude been presented to the eyes of his disciples, the spiritual worship of Christ might have been obliterated by the visible relics and representations of the saints. A similar indulgence was requisite and propitious for the Virgin Mary: the place of her burial was unknown; and the assumption of her soul and body into heaven was adopted by the credulity of the Greeks and Latins. The use, and even the worship, of images was firmly established before the end of the sixth century: they were fondly cherished by the warm imagination of the Greeks and Asiatics: the Pantheon and Vatican were adorned with the emblems of a new superstition; but this semblance of idolatry was more coldly entertained by the rude Barbarians and the Arian clergy of the West. The bolder forms of sculpture, in brass or marble, which peopled the temples of antiquity, were offensive to the fancy or conscience of the Christian Greeks: and a smooth surface of colors has ever been esteemed a more decent and harmless mode of imitation.

The early Christians had an unshakable aversion to the use and abuse of images, likely due to their Jewish roots and disdain for Greek practices. The Mosaic law explicitly banned any representations of God, and this commandment was deeply ingrained in the principles and practices of the chosen people. Christian apologists cleverly targeted the foolish idolaters who bowed down to creations of their own making; the brass and marble images, which, if they had any sense or movement, would have leaped from their pedestals to worship the creative talents of their artists. Some newer, incomplete converts from the Gnostic sect may have paid the same profane honors to the statues of Christ and St. Paul that they gave to Aristotle and Pythagoras, but the mainstream Catholic faith remained consistently simple and spiritual. The first mention of the use of images appears in the censure from the council of Illiberis, about three hundred years after the birth of Christ. Under the successors of Constantine, in the peace and luxury of the flourishing Church, more pragmatic bishops began to embrace visible superstition for the sake of the masses; and following the decline of Paganism, they were no longer held back by the fear of drawing unfavorable comparisons. The initial introduction of symbolic worship came with the veneration of the cross and relics. The saints and martyrs, whose intercession was sought, were said to be seated at the right hand of God; however, the gracious and often miraculous favors that were believed to be bestowed around their tombs provided undeniable approval for the devout pilgrims who visited, touched, and kissed these lifeless remains—memorials of their virtues and hardships. Yet, a memorial even more captivating than a martyr’s skull or sandals is the true likeness of their person and features, captured through painting or sculpture. Throughout history, such likenesses, beloved by human emotions, have been cherished through personal friendship or public recognition: the images of Roman emperors were honored with civil and almost religious reverence; a less ostentatious yet more genuine respect was shown to the statues of wise individuals and patriots; and these secular virtues, these grand sins, faded in the presence of holy individuals who had died for their heavenly and eternal homeland. Initially, the attempt to use images was approached with caution and concern; these revered pictures were cautiously permitted to educate the ignorant, revive the indifferent, and satisfy the biases of heathen converts. Gradually, the honors meant for the original figures were transferred to their images: devout Christians began praying before the images of saints; and Pagan practices such as bowing, lighting lamps, and burning incense once again infiltrated the Catholic Church. The hesitations of reason or piety were quieted by the overwhelming evidence of visions and miracles; and the images that seemed to speak, move, and bleed were believed to be infused with divine energy, thus fitting objects for religious worship. The boldest artists might hesitate at the audacious challenge of depicting, through forms and colors, the infinite Spirit, the eternal Father, who encompasses and strengthens the universe. However, the superstitious mind found it easier to accept the depiction and worship of angels, and especially the Son of God, in the human form they chose to adopt on earth. The second person of the Trinity had taken on a real and mortal body, yet that body had ascended to heaven; unless some likeness had been presented to the eyes of His disciples, the spiritual worship of Christ could have been overshadowed by the physical remains and images of the saints. A similar leniency was needed and welcomed for the Virgin Mary: the location of her burial was unknown, and the belief in her soul and body being taken up to heaven was embraced by the credulous Greeks and Latins. By the end of the sixth century, the use—and even worship—of images was firmly established; they were passionately embraced by the vivid imaginations of the Greeks and Asians. The Pantheon and Vatican were adorned with symbols of a new superstition; however, this appearance of idolatry was received with more skepticism by the rough Barbarians and the Arian clergy of the West. The more daring forms of sculpture in brass or marble that filled ancient temples were off-putting to the sensibilities of Christian Greeks; instead, a smooth surface of color has always been viewed as a more appropriate and harmless form of imitation.

The merit and effect of a copy depends on its resemblance with the original; but the primitive Christians were ignorant of the genuine features of the Son of God, his mother, and his apostles: the statue of Christ at Paneas in Palestine was more probably that of some temporal savior; the Gnostics and their profane monuments were reprobated; and the fancy of the Christian artists could only be guided by the clandestine imitation of some heathen model. In this distress, a bold and dexterous invention assured at once the likeness of the image and the innocence of the worship. A new super structure of fable was raised on the popular basis of a Syrian legend, on the correspondence of Christ and Abgarus, so famous in the days of Eusebius, so reluctantly deserted by our modern advocates. The bishop of Cæsarea records the epistle, but he most strangely forgets the picture of Christ; the perfect impression of his face on a linen, with which he gratified the faith of the royal stranger who had invoked his healing power, and offered the strong city of Edessa to protect him against the malice of the Jews. The ignorance of the primitive church is explained by the long imprisonment of the image in a niche of the wall, from whence, after an oblivion of five hundred years, it was released by some prudent bishop, and seasonably presented to the devotion of the times. Its first and most glorious exploit was the deliverance of the city from the arms of Chosroes Nushirvan; and it was soon revered as a pledge of the divine promise, that Edessa should never be taken by a foreign enemy. It is true, indeed, that the text of Procopius ascribes the double deliverance of Edessa to the wealth and valor of her citizens, who purchased the absence and repelled the assaults of the Persian monarch. He was ignorant, the profane historian, of the testimony which he is compelled to deliver in the ecclesiastical page of Evagrius, that the Palladium was exposed on the rampart, and that the water which had been sprinkled on the holy face, instead of quenching, added new fuel to the flames of the besieged. After this important service, the image of Edessa was preserved with respect and gratitude; and if the Armenians rejected the legend, the more credulous Greeks adored the similitude, which was not the work of any mortal pencil, but the immediate creation of the divine original. The style and sentiments of a Byzantine hymn will declare how far their worship was removed from the grossest idolatry. "How can we with mortal eyes contemplate this image, whose celestial splendor the host of heaven presumes not to behold? He who dwells in heaven, condescends this day to visit us by his venerable image; He who is seated on the cherubim, visits us this day by a picture, which the Father has delineated with his immaculate hand, which he has formed in an ineffable manner, and which we sanctify by adoring it with fear and love." Before the end of the sixth century, these images, made without hands, (in Greek it is a single word, ) were propagated in the camps and cities of the Eastern empire: they were the objects of worship, and the instruments of miracles; and in the hour of danger or tumult, their venerable presence could revive the hope, rekindle the courage, or repress the fury, of the Roman legions. Of these pictures, the far greater part, the transcripts of a human pencil, could only pretend to a secondary likeness and improper title: but there were some of higher descent, who derived their resemblance from an immediate contact with the original, endowed, for that purpose, with a miraculous and prolific virtue. The most ambitious aspired from a filial to a fraternal relation with the image of Edessa; and such is the veronica of Rome, or Spain, or Jerusalem, which Christ in his agony and bloody sweat applied to his face, and delivered to a holy matron. The fruitful precedent was speedily transferred to the Virgin Mary, and the saints and martyrs. In the church of Diospolis, in Palestine, the features of the Mother of God were deeply inscribed in a marble column; the East and West have been decorated by the pencil of St. Luke; and the Evangelist, who was perhaps a physician, has been forced to exercise the occupation of a painter, so profane and odious in the eyes of the primitive Christians. The Olympian Jove, created by the muse of Homer and the chisel of Phidias, might inspire a philosophic mind with momentary devotion; but these Catholic images were faintly and flatly delineated by monkish artists in the last degeneracy of taste and genius.

The value and impact of a copy depend on how closely it resembles the original; however, the early Christians were unaware of the true features of the Son of God, his mother, and his apostles. The statue of Christ at Paneas in Palestine was more likely that of some earthly savior. The Gnostics and their unholy monuments were condemned, and Christian artists could only draw inspiration from secret imitations of pagan models. In this dilemma, a bold and clever invention ensured both the likeness of the image and the purity of the worship. A new story was built on the popular Syrian legend about the correspondence between Christ and Abgarus, which was well-known in the time of Eusebius but reluctantly abandoned by modern supporters. The bishop of Caesarea recorded the letter but curiously forgot to mention the picture of Christ—the perfect impression of his face on a linen cloth, which he used to satisfy the faith of the royal stranger who sought his healing power and offered the strong city of Edessa protection against the malice of the Jews. The early church's ignorance can be explained by the long confinement of the image in a niche in the wall, from which it was released after five centuries of neglect by a wise bishop and presented to the devotion of the time. Its first and most glorious achievement was freeing the city from Chosroes Nushirvan's forces; it soon became revered as a sign of the divine promise that Edessa would never fall to a foreign enemy. It is true that Procopius credits Edessa's double deliverance to the wealth and bravery of its citizens, who purchased peace and repelled attacks from the Persian king. The profane historian was unaware of the testimony he had to provide in the ecclesiastical account of Evagrius, stating that the Palladium was displayed on the city walls, and that the water sprinkled on the holy face, rather than extinguishing, actually fueled the flames of the besieged. After this significant act, the image of Edessa was treated with respect and gratitude; while the Armenians might have dismissed the legend, the more gullible Greeks worshiped the likeness, believed to be not created by any human artist but an immediate creation of the divine original. The style and sentiments of a Byzantine hymn reveal how their worship was far removed from the basest form of idolatry: "How can we, with mortal eyes, gaze upon this image, whose celestial brilliance the heavenly hosts do not dare to view? He who dwells in heaven today visits us through his venerated image; He who is seated on the cherubim comes to us through a picture created by the Father’s immaculate hand, formed in an ineffable manner, and we sanctify it by adoring it with fear and love." Before the end of the sixth century, these images, made without hands, were spread throughout the camps and cities of the Eastern empire: they became objects of worship and instruments of miracles; in times of danger or chaos, their revered presence could revive hope, rekindle courage, or quell the fury of the Roman legions. Of these pictures, the majority, which were created by human artists, could only claim a secondary resemblance and inappropriate title: but some had a higher origin, with their likeness derived from direct contact with the original, endowed for that purpose with miraculous and life-giving power. The most ambitious aspired to a familial bond with the image of Edessa; such is the veronica of Rome, Spain, or Jerusalem, which Christ pressed to his face during his agony and blood-soaked sweat and gave to a holy woman. This fruitful precedent was quickly applied to the Virgin Mary, as well as the saints and martyrs. In the church of Diospolis in Palestine, the features of the Mother of God were deeply etched into a marble column; both the East and West have been decorated by the brush of St. Luke; and the Evangelist, who may have been a physician, was compelled to take on the task of a painter, an activity considered profane and detestable by the early Christians. The Olympian Zeus, created by the muse of Homer and the chisel of Phidias, might inspire a philosophic mind with momentary devotion; however, these Catholic images were faintly and poorly rendered by monkish artists during the last decline of taste and talent.

The worship of images had stolen into the church by insensible degrees, and each petty step was pleasing to the superstitious mind, as productive of comfort, and innocent of sin. But in the beginning of the eighth century, in the full magnitude of the abuse, the more timorous Greeks were awakened by an apprehension, that under the mask of Christianity, they had restored the religion of their fathers: they heard, with grief and impatience, the name of idolaters; the incessant charge of the Jews and Mahometans, who derived from the Law and the Koran an immortal hatred to graven images and all relative worship. The servitude of the Jews might curb their zeal, and depreciate their authority; but the triumphant Mussulmans, who reigned at Damascus, and threatened Constantinople, cast into the scale of reproach the accumulated weight of truth and victory. The cities of Syria, Palestine, and Egypt had been fortified with the images of Christ, his mother, and his saints; and each city presumed on the hope or promise of miraculous defence. In a rapid conquest of ten years, the Arabs subdued those cities and these images; and, in their opinion, the Lord of Hosts pronounced a decisive judgment between the adoration and contempt of these mute and inanimate idols. For a while Edessa had braved the Persian assaults; but the chosen city, the spouse of Christ, was involved in the common ruin; and his divine resemblance became the slave and trophy of the infidels. After a servitude of three hundred years, the Palladium was yielded to the devotion of Constantinople, for a ransom of twelve thousand pounds of silver, the redemption of two hundred Mussulmans, and a perpetual truce for the territory of Edessa. In this season of distress and dismay, the eloquence of the monks was exercised in the defence of images; and they attempted to prove, that the sin and schism of the greatest part of the Orientals had forfeited the favor, and annihilated the virtue, of these precious symbols. But they were now opposed by the murmurs of many simple or rational Christians, who appealed to the evidence of texts, of facts, and of the primitive times, and secretly desired the reformation of the church. As the worship of images had never been established by any general or positive law, its progress in the Eastern empire had been retarded, or accelerated, by the differences of men and manners, the local degrees of refinement, and the personal characters of the bishops. The splendid devotion was fondly cherished by the levity of the capital, and the inventive genius of the Byzantine clergy; while the rude and remote districts of Asia were strangers to this innovation of sacred luxury. Many large congregations of Gnostics and Arians maintained, after their conversion, the simple worship which had preceded their separation; and the Armenians, the most warlike subjects of Rome, were not reconciled, in the twelfth century, to the sight of images. These various denominations of men afforded a fund of prejudice and aversion, of small account in the villages of Anatolia or Thrace, but which, in the fortune of a soldier, a prelate, or a eunuch, might be often connected with the powers of the church and state.

The worship of images gradually made its way into the church, and each small step seemed acceptable to the superstitious mindset, offering comfort and seeming free of sin. However, by the early eighth century, as the issue became apparent, the more cautious Greeks were alarmed by the realization that, under the guise of Christianity, they had reverted to the religion of their ancestors. They felt sadness and frustration at being called idolaters, facing constant accusations from Jews and Muslims, who harbored a lasting disdain for carved images and any form of related worship. The subjugation of the Jews might have limited their fervor and diminished their influence, but the victorious Muslims, who ruled in Damascus and threatened Constantinople, amplified the criticisms with the undeniable weight of truth and conquest. Cities in Syria, Palestine, and Egypt had adorned themselves with images of Christ, his mother, and the saints, each one believing in a promise of miraculous defense. In a swift conquest over ten years, the Arabs conquered these cities and their images; in their view, God made a clear judgment between the worship and disdain of these silent, lifeless idols. Edessa had withstood Persian attacks for a time, but that chosen city, devoted to Christ, eventually fell into the same fate, and its divine images became captives and trophies for the infidels. After three hundred years of oppression, the revered relic was surrendered to Constantinople for a ransom of twelve thousand pounds of silver, the release of two hundred Muslims, and a lasting peace regarding the land of Edessa. During this time of struggle and fear, monks vigorously defended the images, attempting to argue that the sins and divisions of most Easterners had forfeited the honor and nullified the significance of these cherished symbols. Yet, they faced dissent from many straightforward or rational Christians, who referenced scripture, facts, and early church history, secretly wishing for reform within the church. Since the worship of images had never been instituted by any universal or official law, its growth in the Eastern empire was influenced by varying human attitudes and cultural practices, levels of sophistication, and the personal traits of the bishops. The elaborate devotion was eagerly embraced by the frivolity of the capital and the creative spirit of the Byzantine clergy, while the rougher and more isolated regions of Asia remained unacquainted with this new sacred extravagance. Many large groups of Gnostics and Arians continued to practice the simple worship that preceded their splits, and the Armenians, Rome’s most militaristic subjects, were still unaccustomed to images by the twelfth century. These different groups contributed a reservoir of bias and resistance, of little concern in the villages of Anatolia or Thrace, but often significant in the fortunes of a soldier, a bishop, or a eunuch, closely tied to the powers of church and state.

Of such adventurers, the most fortunate was the emperor Leo the Third, who, from the mountains of Isauria, ascended the throne of the East. He was ignorant of sacred and profane letters; but his education, his reason, perhaps his intercourse with the Jews and Arabs, had inspired the martial peasant with a hatred of images; and it was held to be the duty of a prince to impose on his subjects the dictates of his own conscience. But in the outset of an unsettled reign, during ten years of toil and danger, Leo submitted to the meanness of hypocrisy, bowed before the idols which he despised, and satisfied the Roman pontiff with the annual professions of his orthodoxy and zeal. In the reformation of religion, his first steps were moderate and cautious: he assembled a great council of senators and bishops, and enacted, with their consent, that all the images should be removed from the sanctuary and altar to a proper height in the churches where they might be visible to the eyes, and inaccessible to the superstition, of the people. But it was impossible on either side to check the rapid through adverse impulse of veneration and abhorrence: in their lofty position, the sacred images still edified their votaries, and reproached the tyrant. He was himself provoked by resistance and invective; and his own party accused him of an imperfect discharge of his duty, and urged for his imitation the example of the Jewish king, who had broken without scruple the brazen serpent of the temple. By a second edict, he proscribed the existence as well as the use of religious pictures; the churches of Constantinople and the provinces were cleansed from idolatry; the images of Christ, the Virgin, and the saints, were demolished, or a smooth surface of plaster was spread over the walls of the edifice. The sect of the Iconoclasts was supported by the zeal and despotism of six emperors, and the East and West were involved in a noisy conflict of one hundred and twenty years. It was the design of Leo the Isaurian to pronounce the condemnation of images as an article of faith, and by the authority of a general council: but the convocation of such an assembly was reserved for his son Constantine; and though it is stigmatized by triumphant bigotry as a meeting of fools and atheists, their own partial and mutilated acts betray many symptoms of reason and piety. The debates and decrees of many provincial synods introduced the summons of the general council which met in the suburbs of Constantinople, and was composed of the respectable number of three hundred and thirty-eight bishops of Europe and Anatolia; for the patriarchs of Antioch and Alexandria were the slaves of the caliph, and the Roman pontiff had withdrawn the churches of Italy and the West from the communion of the Greeks. This Byzantine synod assumed the rank and powers of the seventh general council; yet even this title was a recognition of the six preceding assemblies, which had laboriously built the structure of the Catholic faith. After a serious deliberation of six months, the three hundred and thirty-eight bishops pronounced and subscribed a unanimous decree, that all visible symbols of Christ, except in the Eucharist, were either blasphemous or heretical; that image-worship was a corruption of Christianity and a renewal of Paganism; that all such monuments of idolatry should be broken or erased; and that those who should refuse to deliver the objects of their private superstition, were guilty of disobedience to the authority of the church and of the emperor. In their loud and loyal acclamations, they celebrated the merits of their temporal redeemer; and to his zeal and justice they intrusted the execution of their spiritual censures. At Constantinople, as in the former councils, the will of the prince was the rule of episcopal faith; but on this occasion, I am inclined to suspect that a large majority of the prelates sacrificed their secret conscience to the temptations of hope and fear. In the long night of superstition, the Christians had wandered far away from the simplicity of the gospel: nor was it easy for them to discern the clew, and tread back the mazes, of the labyrinth. The worship of images was inseparably blended, at least to a pious fancy, with the Cross, the Virgin, the Saints and their relics; the holy ground was involved in a cloud of miracles and visions; and the nerves of the mind, curiosity and scepticism, were benumbed by the habits of obedience and belief. Constantine himself is accused of indulging a royal license to doubt, or deny, or deride the mysteries of the Catholics, but they were deeply inscribed in the public and private creed of his bishops; and the boldest Iconoclast might assault with a secret horror the monuments of popular devotion, which were consecrated to the honor of his celestial patrons. In the reformation of the sixteenth century, freedom and knowledge had expanded all the faculties of man: the thirst of innovation superseded the reverence of antiquity; and the vigor of Europe could disdain those phantoms which terrified the sickly and servile weakness of the Greeks.

Of all the adventurers, the luckiest was Emperor Leo III, who rose to power from the mountains of Isauria. He was unfamiliar with both sacred and secular knowledge, but his experiences, reasoning, and perhaps his interactions with Jews and Arabs sparked a hatred for images in the martial peasant. He believed it was a prince's duty to impose his own moral beliefs on his subjects. However, at the start of his unstable reign, over ten years filled with struggle and danger, Leo resorted to hypocritical behavior, bowing to the idols he despised and reassuring the Roman pope with yearly declarations of his faith and commitment. In reforming religion, his initial moves were careful and moderate: he gathered a large council of senators and bishops and, with their agreement, ordered that all images be moved from the sanctuaries and altars to a proper height in the churches where they could still be seen but were out of reach for the people's superstitious tendencies. Yet, it was impossible to stop the swift surge of devotion and disdain from either side: the sacred images still inspired their followers and mocked the tyrant’s authority. Resistance and criticism stirred him, and his supporters accused him of failing to fulfill his duty, urging him to follow the example of the Jewish king who had shamelessly destroyed the bronze serpent in the temple. With a second decree, he banned both the existence and use of religious images; the churches in Constantinople and the surrounding provinces were cleansed of idolatry; images of Christ, the Virgin, and the saints were destroyed, or smooth plaster was spread over the walls. The Iconoclast movement gained support from the zeal and control of six emperors, leading to a noisy conflict between the East and West that lasted one hundred and twenty years. Leo the Isaurian aimed to declare the condemnation of images as a matter of faith under the authority of a general council, but the convening of such an assembly was left to his son Constantine; although labeled as a gathering of fools and atheists by triumphant bigots, their incomplete and biased acts showed signs of reason and piety. The discussions and decisions of many provincial synods prompted the call for the general council, which met in the suburbs of Constantinople with a respectable number of three hundred and thirty-eight bishops from Europe and Anatolia; the patriarchs of Antioch and Alexandria were under the control of the caliph, and the Roman pope had withdrawn the western churches from the Greek communion. This Byzantine synod claimed the status and authority of the seventh general council; however, even this title acknowledged the previous six assemblies that had painstakingly established the framework of the Catholic faith. After serious discussions lasting six months, the three hundred and thirty-eight bishops unanimously declared and signed a decree stating that all visible symbols of Christ, except in the Eucharist, were either blasphemous or heretical; that worshipping images was a corruption of Christianity and a revival of Paganism; that all artifacts of idolatry should be destroyed or removed; and that those who refused to abandon their personal superstitions were disobeying the authority of both the church and the emperor. In their loud and loyal cheers, they celebrated the merits of their earthly savior, entrusting him with the execution of their spiritual censures. In Constantinople, as in previous councils, the will of the prince governed episcopal beliefs; yet on this occasion, I suspect that a large majority of the bishops compromised their true consciences to the pressures of hope and fear. During the long era of superstition, Christians had strayed far from the simplicity of the gospel: it was challenging for them to find their way back through the complexities of the labyrinth. The worship of images had become inextricably mixed, at least in the eyes of the faithful, with the Cross, the Virgin, the Saints, and their relics; holy ground was shrouded in a mist of miracles and visions, and the very fibers of the mind, curiosity and skepticism, were dulled by habits of obedience and belief. Constantine himself was accused of taking a royal liberty to doubt, deny, or mock the mysteries of the Catholics, but these mysteries were deeply ingrained in the beliefs of his bishops, and even the boldest Iconoclasts secretly feared attacking the symbols of popular devotion dedicated to their heavenly patrons. In the sixteenth-century reformation, freedom and knowledge had expanded human faculties: the desire for innovation overshadowed respect for tradition; and the vigor of Europe could dismiss the fears that haunted the weak and submissive Greeks.

The scandal of an abstract heresy can be only proclaimed to the people by the blast of the ecclesiastical trumpet; but the most ignorant can perceive, the most torpid must feel, the profanation and downfall of their visible deities. The first hostilities of Leo were directed against a lofty Christ on the vestibule, and above the gate, of the palace. A ladder had been planted for the assault, but it was furiously shaken by a crowd of zealots and women: they beheld, with pious transport, the ministers of sacrilege tumbling from on high and dashed against the pavement: and the honors of the ancient martyrs were prostituted to these criminals, who justly suffered for murder and rebellion. The execution of the Imperial edicts was resisted by frequent tumults in Constantinople and the provinces: the person of Leo was endangered, his officers were massacred, and the popular enthusiasm was quelled by the strongest efforts of the civil and military power. Of the Archipelago, or Holy Sea, the numerous islands were filled with images and monks: their votaries abjured, without scruple, the enemy of Christ, his mother, and the saints; they armed a fleet of boats and galleys, displayed their consecrated banners, and boldly steered for the harbor of Constantinople, to place on the throne a new favorite of God and the people. They depended on the succor of a miracle: but their miracles were inefficient against the Greek fire; and, after the defeat and conflagration of the fleet, the naked islands were abandoned to the clemency or justice of the conqueror. The son of Leo, in the first year of his reign, had undertaken an expedition against the Saracens: during his absence, the capital, the palace, and the purple, were occupied by his kinsman Artavasdes, the ambitious champion of the orthodox faith. The worship of images was triumphantly restored: the patriarch renounced his dissimulation, or dissembled his sentiments and the righteous claims of the usurper was acknowledged, both in the new, and in ancient, Rome. Constantine flew for refuge to his paternal mountains; but he descended at the head of the bold and affectionate Isaurians; and his final victory confounded the arms and predictions of the fanatics. His long reign was distracted with clamor, sedition, conspiracy, and mutual hatred, and sanguinary revenge; the persecution of images was the motive or pretence, of his adversaries; and, if they missed a temporal diadem, they were rewarded by the Greeks with the crown of martyrdom. In every act of open and clandestine treason, the emperor felt the unforgiving enmity of the monks, the faithful slaves of the superstition to which they owed their riches and influence. They prayed, they preached, they absolved, they inflamed, they conspired; the solitude of Palestine poured forth a torrent of invective; and the pen of St. John Damascenus, the last of the Greek fathers, devoted the tyrant's head, both in this world and the next. I am not at leisure to examine how far the monks provoked, nor how much they have exaggerated, their real and pretended sufferings, nor how many lost their lives or limbs, their eyes or their beards, by the cruelty of the emperor. From the chastisement of individuals, he proceeded to the abolition of the order; and, as it was wealthy and useless, his resentment might be stimulated by avarice, and justified by patriotism. The formidable name and mission of the Dragon, his visitor-general, excited the terror and abhorrence of the black nation: the religious communities were dissolved, the buildings were converted into magazines, or barracks; the lands, movables, and cattle were confiscated; and our modern precedents will support the charge, that much wanton or malicious havoc was exercised against the relics, and even the books of the monasteries. With the habit and profession of monks, the public and private worship of images was rigorously proscribed; and it should seem, that a solemn abjuration of idolatry was exacted from the subjects, or at least from the clergy, of the Eastern empire.

The scandal of an abstract heresy can only be announced to the people by the loud sound of the church's trumpet; but even the most clueless can see, and the most apathetic must feel, the disrespect and fall of their visible deities. Leo's first attacks were aimed at a grand image of Christ at the entrance and above the gate of the palace. A ladder had been set up for the assault, but it was violently shaken by a crowd of zealots and women: they watched, with pious excitement, as the perpetrators of sacrilege fell from above and were smashed against the pavement: and the honors of the ancient martyrs were dishonored by these criminals, who rightfully suffered for murder and rebellion. The enforcement of the Imperial edicts faced frequent riots in Constantinople and the provinces: Leo's life was at risk, his officers were killed, and the public's enthusiasm was suppressed by the strongest measures of civil and military force. Throughout the Holy Sea, the many islands were filled with icons and monks: their worshippers shamelessly rejected the enemy of Christ, his mother, and the saints; they gathered a fleet of boats and ships, displayed their blessed banners, and boldly sailed to the port of Constantinople, aiming to place a new favorite of God and the people on the throne. They relied on the help of a miracle: but their miracles proved powerless against the Greek fire; and after the fleet's defeat and destruction, the empty islands were left at the mercy or judgment of the conqueror. Leo's son, in his first year of reign, had launched a campaign against the Saracens: during his absence, the capital, the palace, and the imperial purple were seized by his relative Artavasdes, the ambitious defender of the orthodox faith. The worship of images was triumphantly restored: the patriarch abandoned any pretense and accepted the claims of the usurper, which were acknowledged in both new and ancient Rome. Constantine sought refuge in his ancestral mountains; but he returned leading the brave and loyal Isaurians; and his final victory thwarted the arms and predictions of the fanatics. His long reign was filled with outcries, disturbances, conspiracy, mutual hatred, and bloody revenge; the persecution of images was the reason or excuse used by his adversaries; and even if they missed out on a temporal crown, the Greeks rewarded them with the martyr's crown. In every act of open and secret treason, the emperor felt the relentless hatred of the monks, the devoted followers of the superstition that provided them wealth and influence. They prayed, preached, forgave, incited, and conspired; the solitude of Palestine spewed forth a torrent of insults; and the pen of St. John Damascenus, the last of the Greek fathers, condemned the tyrant’s head, in this world and the next. I don't have the time to investigate how much the monks provoked, nor how much they exaggerated their genuine and feigned sufferings, nor how many lost their lives or limbs, their eyes or beards, due to the emperor's cruelty. From punishing individuals, he moved on to abolishing the order; and, since it was rich and useless, his anger may have been fueled by greed and justified by patriotism. The formidable name and mission of the Dragon, his chief visitor, instilled fear and disgust among the black nation: the religious groups were dissolved, their buildings turned into storage or barracks; their lands, belongings, and livestock were seized; and modern evidence will support the claim that much unnecessary or spiteful destruction was inflicted on the relics and even the books of the monasteries. With the habits and duties of monks, public and private worship of images was strictly banned; and it seems that a formal renunciation of idolatry was demanded from the subjects, or at least from the clergy, of the Eastern empire.

The patient East abjured, with reluctance, her sacred images; they were fondly cherished, and vigorously defended, by the independent zeal of the Italians. In ecclesiastical rank and jurisdiction, the patriarch of Constantinople and the pope of Rome were nearly equal. But the Greek prelate was a domestic slave under the eye of his master, at whose nod he alternately passed from the convent to the throne, and from the throne to the convent. A distant and dangerous station, amidst the Barbarians of the West, excited the spirit and freedom of the Latin bishops. Their popular election endeared them to the Romans: the public and private indigence was relieved by their ample revenue; and the weakness or neglect of the emperors compelled them to consult, both in peace and war, the temporal safety of the city. In the school of adversity the priest insensibly imbibed the virtues and the ambition of a prince; the same character was assumed, the same policy was adopted, by the Italian, the Greek, or the Syrian, who ascended the chair of St. Peter; and, after the loss of her legions and provinces, the genius and fortune of the popes again restored the supremacy of Rome. It is agreed, that in the eighth century, their dominion was founded on rebellion, and that the rebellion was produced, and justified, by the heresy of the Iconoclasts; but the conduct of the second and third Gregory, in this memorable contest, is variously interpreted by the wishes of their friends and enemies. The Byzantine writers unanimously declare, that, after a fruitless admonition, they pronounced the separation of the East and West, and deprived the sacrilegious tyrant of the revenue and sovereignty of Italy. Their excommunication is still more clearly expressed by the Greeks, who beheld the accomplishment of the papal triumphs; and as they are more strongly attached to their religion than to their country, they praise, instead of blaming, the zeal and orthodoxy of these apostolical men. The modern champions of Rome are eager to accept the praise and the precedent: this great and glorious example of the deposition of royal heretics is celebrated by the cardinals Baronius and Bellarmine; and if they are asked, why the same thunders were not hurled against the Neros and Julians of antiquity, they reply, that the weakness of the primitive church was the sole cause of her patient loyalty. On this occasion the effects of love and hatred are the same; and the zealous Protestants, who seek to kindle the indignation, and to alarm the fears, of princes and magistrates, expatiate on the insolence and treason of the two Gregories against their lawful sovereign. They are defended only by the moderate Catholics, for the most part, of the Gallican church, who respect the saint, without approving the sin. These common advocates of the crown and the mitre circumscribe the truth of facts by the rule of equity, Scripture, and tradition, and appeal to the evidence of the Latins, and the lives and epistles of the popes; themselves.

The patient East reluctantly gave up her sacred images; they were lovingly cherished and strongly defended by the independent spirit of the Italians. In terms of church hierarchy and authority, the patriarch of Constantinople and the pope of Rome were almost equal. However, the Greek prelate was like a domestic servant under the watchful eye of his superior, who controlled when he would move between the convent and the throne. A distant and perilous role, surrounded by the Barbarians of the West, fueled the ambition and independence of the Latin bishops. Their popular elections endeared them to the Romans: their substantial revenue alleviated public and private hardships, and the weakness or negligence of the emperors forced them to prioritize the city's safety in both peace and war. In the trials of adversity, the priest gradually absorbed the virtues and ambitions of a ruler; the same traits and policies were adopted by the Italian, Greek, or Syrian who occupied the chair of St. Peter; and, after losing her legions and provinces, the leadership and fortune of the popes restored Rome's supremacy. It is acknowledged that in the eighth century, their power was founded on rebellion, justified by the heresy of the Iconoclasts; however, the actions of the second and third Gregory during this significant conflict are interpreted differently based on the perspectives of their allies and opponents. Byzantine writers unanimously claim that, after a fruitless warning, they declared the separation between East and West and deprived the sacrilegious tyrant of the income and authority over Italy. Their excommunication is even more clearly stated by the Greeks, who observed the fulfillment of the papal victories; and since they are more devoted to their faith than to their nation, they commend, rather than condemn, the passion and orthodoxy of these apostolic figures. Modern supporters of Rome are quick to accept both the praise and the precedent: this great and glorious example of deposing royal heretics is celebrated by cardinals Baronius and Bellarmine; and when asked why similar condemnations weren't directed at the Neros and Julians of the past, they answer that the primitive church's weakness was the sole reason for her patient loyalty. In this matter, the effects of love and hatred are the same; zealous Protestants, seeking to ignite outrage and alarm among rulers and officials, dwell on the insolence and betrayal of the two Gregories against their rightful sovereign. They are mostly defended by moderate Catholics of the Gallican church, who honor the saint while disapproving of the sin. These common advocates of both the crown and the mitre limit the truth of facts according to reason, Scripture, and tradition, and refer to evidence from the Latins, alongside the lives and letters of the popes themselves.





Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part II.

Two original epistles, from Gregory the Second to the emperor Leo, are still extant; and if they cannot be praised as the most perfect models of eloquence and logic, they exhibit the portrait, or at least the mask, of the founder of the papal monarchy. "During ten pure and fortunate years," says Gregory to the emperor, "we have tasted the annual comfort of your royal letters, subscribed in purple ink, with your own hand, the sacred pledges of your attachment to the orthodox creed of our fathers. How deplorable is the change! how tremendous the scandal! You now accuse the Catholics of idolatry; and, by the accusation, you betray your own impiety and ignorance. To this ignorance we are compelled to adapt the grossness of our style and arguments: the first elements of holy letters are sufficient for your confusion; and were you to enter a grammar-school, and avow yourself the enemy of our worship, the simple and pious children would be provoked to cast their horn-books at your head." After this decent salutation, the pope attempts the usual distinction between the idols of antiquity and the Christian images. The former were the fanciful representations of phantoms or dæmons, at a time when the true God had not manifested his person in any visible likeness. The latter are the genuine forms of Christ, his mother, and his saints, who had approved, by a crowd of miracles, the innocence and merit of this relative worship. He must indeed have trusted to the ignorance of Leo, since he could assert the perpetual use of images, from the apostolic age, and their venerable presence in the six synods of the Catholic church. A more specious argument is drawn from present possession and recent practice the harmony of the Christian world supersedes the demand of a general council; and Gregory frankly confesses, than such assemblies can only be useful under the reign of an orthodox prince. To the impudent and inhuman Leo, more guilty than a heretic, he recommends peace, silence, and implicit obedience to his spiritual guides of Constantinople and Rome. The limits of civil and ecclesiastical powers are defined by the pontiff. To the former he appropriates the body; to the latter, the soul: the sword of justice is in the hands of the magistrate: the more formidable weapon of excommunication is intrusted to the clergy; and in the exercise of their divine commission a zealous son will not spare his offending father: the successor of St. Peter may lawfully chastise the kings of the earth. "You assault us, O tyrant! with a carnal and military hand: unarmed and naked we can only implore the Christ, the prince of the heavenly host, that he will send unto you a devil, for the destruction of your body and the salvation of your soul. You declare, with foolish arrogance, I will despatch my orders to Rome: I will break in pieces the image of St. Peter; and Gregory, like his predecessor Martin, shall be transported in chains, and in exile, to the foot of the Imperial throne. Would to God that I might be permitted to tread in the footsteps of the holy Martin! but may the fate of Constans serve as a warning to the persecutors of the church! After his just condemnation by the bishops of Sicily, the tyrant was cut off, in the fullness of his sins, by a domestic servant: the saint is still adored by the nations of Scythia, among whom he ended his banishment and his life. But it is our duty to live for the edification and support of the faithful people; nor are we reduced to risk our safety on the event of a combat. Incapable as you are of defending your Roman subjects, the maritime situation of the city may perhaps expose it to your depredation but we can remove to the distance of four-and-twenty stadia, to the first fortress of the Lombards, and then—you may pursue the winds. Are you ignorant that the popes are the bond of union, the mediators of peace, between the East and West? The eyes of the nations are fixed on our humility; and they revere, as a God upon earth, the apostle St. Peter, whose image you threaten to destroy. The remote and interior kingdoms of the West present their homage to Christ and his vicegerent; and we now prepare to visit one of their most powerful monarchs, who desires to receive from our hands the sacrament of baptism. The Barbarians have submitted to the yoke of the gospel, while you alone are deaf to the voice of the shepherd. These pious Barbarians are kindled into rage: they thirst to avenge the persecution of the East. Abandon your rash and fatal enterprise; reflect, tremble, and repent. If you persist, we are innocent of the blood that will be spilt in the contest; may it fall on your own head!"

Two original letters, from Gregory the Second to Emperor Leo, still exist; and while they might not be considered perfect examples of eloquence and logic, they show the likeness, or at least the facade, of the founder of the papal monarchy. "For ten pure and fortunate years," Gregory tells the emperor, "we have enjoyed the annual comfort of your royal letters, signed in purple ink with your own hand, the sacred tokens of your loyalty to the orthodox faith of our ancestors. How tragic is the change! How shocking the scandal! You now accuse Catholics of idolatry; with this accusation, you expose your own impiety and ignorance. To this ignorance, we are forced to lower the quality of our style and arguments: the basics of holy scripture are enough to expose your foolishness; and if you were to enter a grammar school and admit to being an enemy of our worship, the innocent and pious children would be provoked to throw their books at you." After this polite greeting, the pope tries to distinguish between the idols of ancient times and Christian images. The former were mere imaginative representations of phantoms or demons, at a time when the true God had not shown Himself in any visible form. The latter are the true images of Christ, His mother, and His saints, who have proven the innocence and merit of this relative worship through many miracles. He must have relied on Leo’s ignorance when he claimed the continued use of images from the apostolic age and their respected presence in the six synods of the Catholic Church. A more compelling argument is derived from the current acceptance and recent practices; the unity of the Christian world eliminates the need for a general council, and Gregory openly admits that such gatherings can only be useful under an orthodox ruler. To Leo, who is more guilty than a heretic, he recommends peace, silence, and unquestioning obedience to his spiritual leaders in Constantinople and Rome. The boundaries of civil and ecclesiastical power are defined by the pope. He assigns the body to the former and the soul to the latter: the sword of justice is in the hands of the magistrate; the more powerful weapon of excommunication belongs to the clergy; and in carrying out their divine duty, a zealous follower will not hesitate to rebuke his offending father: the successor of St. Peter can rightfully punish the kings of the earth. "You attack us, O tyrant! with a physical and military hand: unarmed and defenseless, we can only beg Christ, the leader of the heavenly hosts, to send you a devil to destroy your body and save your soul. You arrogantly declare, I will send my orders to Rome: I will shatter the image of St. Peter; and Gregory, like his predecessor Martin, will be taken in chains and exile to the feet of the Imperial throne. Would to God I could follow in the footsteps of holy Martin! but may the fate of Constans serve as a warning to the persecutors of the Church! After his just condemnation by the bishops of Sicily, the tyrant was cut off, at the height of his sins, by a domestic servant: the saint is still revered by the nations of Scythia, among whom he ended his banishment and his life. But it is our duty to live for the edification and support of the faithful; nor are we put at risk based on the outcome of a battle. As incapable as you are of defending your Roman subjects, the city's coastal location may expose it to your attacks, but we can retreat to a distance of twenty-four stadia, to the nearest fortress of the Lombards, and then—you can chase the winds. Are you unaware that the popes are the bond of unity, the mediators of peace, between East and West? The eyes of the nations are focused on our humility; they revere the apostle St. Peter, whose image you threaten to destroy, as if He were God on earth. The distant and inner kingdoms of the West pay their respects to Christ and His representative; and we are now preparing to visit one of their most powerful kings, who wishes to receive baptism from us. The Barbarians have accepted the gospel, while you alone remain deaf to the shepherd's call. These devout Barbarians are inflamed with rage: they yearn to avenge the persecution of the East. Stop your reckless and disastrous endeavor; think, tremble, and repent. If you continue, we are innocent of the bloodshed that will result from this conflict; may it fall upon your own head!"

The first assault of Leo against the images of Constantinople had been witnessed by a crowd of strangers from Italy and the West, who related with grief and indignation the sacrilege of the emperor. But on the reception of his proscriptive edict, they trembled for their domestic deities: the images of Christ and the Virgin, of the angels, martyrs, and saints, were abolished in all the churches of Italy; and a strong alternative was proposed to the Roman pontiff, the royal favor as the price of his compliance, degradation and exile as the penalty of his disobedience. Neither zeal nor policy allowed him to hesitate; and the haughty strain in which Gregory addressed the emperor displays his confidence in the truth of his doctrine or the powers of resistance. Without depending on prayers or miracles, he boldly armed against the public enemy, and his pastoral letters admonished the Italians of their danger and their duty. At this signal, Ravenna, Venice, and the cities of the Exarchate and Pentapolis, adhered to the cause of religion; their military force by sea and land consisted, for the most part, of the natives; and the spirit of patriotism and zeal was transfused into the mercenary strangers. The Italians swore to live and die in the defence of the pope and the holy images; the Roman people was devoted to their father, and even the Lombards were ambitious to share the merit and advantage of this holy war. The most treasonable act, but the most obvious revenge, was the destruction of the statues of Leo himself: the most effectual and pleasing measure of rebellion, was the withholding the tribute of Italy, and depriving him of a power which he had recently abused by the imposition of a new capitation. A form of administration was preserved by the election of magistrates and governors; and so high was the public indignation, that the Italians were prepared to create an orthodox emperor, and to conduct him with a fleet and army to the palace of Constantinople. In that palace, the Roman bishops, the second and third Gregory, were condemned as the authors of the revolt, and every attempt was made, either by fraud or force, to seize their persons, and to strike at their lives. The city was repeatedly visited or assaulted by captains of the guards, and dukes and exarchs of high dignity or secret trust; they landed with foreign troops, they obtained some domestic aid, and the superstition of Naples may blush that her fathers were attached to the cause of heresy. But these clandestine or open attacks were repelled by the courage and vigilance of the Romans; the Greeks were overthrown and massacred, their leaders suffered an ignominious death, and the popes, however inclined to mercy, refused to intercede for these guilty victims. At Ravenna, the several quarters of the city had long exercised a bloody and hereditary feud; in religious controversy they found a new aliment of faction: but the votaries of images were superior in numbers or spirit, and the exarch, who attempted to stem the torrent, lost his life in a popular sedition. To punish this flagitious deed, and restore his dominion in Italy, the emperor sent a fleet and army into the Adriatic Gulf. After suffering from the winds and waves much loss and delay, the Greeks made their descent in the neighborhood of Ravenna: they threatened to depopulate the guilty capital, and to imitate, perhaps to surpass, the example of Justinian the Second, who had chastised a former rebellion by the choice and execution of fifty of the principal inhabitants. The women and clergy, in sackcloth and ashes, lay prostrate in prayer: the men were in arms for the defence of their country; the common danger had united the factions, and the event of a battle was preferred to the slow miseries of a siege. In a hard-fought day, as the two armies alternately yielded and advanced, a phantom was seen, a voice was heard, and Ravenna was victorious by the assurance of victory. The strangers retreated to their ships, but the populous sea-coast poured forth a multitude of boats; the waters of the Po were so deeply infected with blood, that during six years the public prejudice abstained from the fish of the river; and the institution of an annual feast perpetuated the worship of images, and the abhorrence of the Greek tyrant. Amidst the triumph of the Catholic arms, the Roman pontiff convened a synod of ninety-three bishops against the heresy of the Iconoclasts. With their consent, he pronounced a general excommunication against all who by word or deed should attack the tradition of the fathers and the images of the saints: in this sentence the emperor was tacitly involved, but the vote of a last and hopeless remonstrance may seem to imply that the anathema was yet suspended over his guilty head. No sooner had they confirmed their own safety, the worship of images, and the freedom of Rome and Italy, than the popes appear to have relaxed of their severity, and to have spared the relics of the Byzantine dominion. Their moderate councils delayed and prevented the election of a new emperor, and they exhorted the Italians not to separate from the body of the Roman monarchy. The exarch was permitted to reside within the walls of Ravenna, a captive rather than a master; and till the Imperial coronation of Charlemagne, the government of Rome and Italy was exercised in the name of the successors of Constantine.

The first attack by Leo against the icons of Constantinople was witnessed by a crowd of foreigners from Italy and the West, who spoke with sadness and anger about the emperor's sacrilege. But when his banning edict was announced, they feared for their local deities: the images of Christ, the Virgin, angels, martyrs, and saints were removed from all the churches in Italy; a strong alternative was offered to the pope, promising royal favor if he complied, and degradation and exile if he did not submit. Neither zeal nor strategy allowed him to hesitate; the proud tone in which Gregory addressed the emperor showed his confidence in his doctrine and his ability to resist. Without relying on prayers or miracles, he boldly took action against the public enemy, and his pastoral letters warned the Italians of their danger and responsibilities. In response, Ravenna, Venice, and the cities of the Exarchate and Pentapolis rallied to the cause of religion; their military forces by sea and land were mostly made up of locals, and the spirit of patriotism and zeal inspired the mercenary foreigners. The Italians vowed to live and die defending the pope and the holy images; the Roman people were devoted to their leader, and even the Lombards wanted to share in the glory and benefits of this holy war. The most treasonous, yet most obvious act of revenge, was the destruction of Leo's statues: the most effective and satisfying act of rebellion was withholding Italy's tribute, denying him a power he had recently abused by imposing a new tax. A form of administration was maintained through the election of magistrates and governors; public outrage was so high that the Italians were ready to appoint an orthodox emperor and escort him with a fleet and army to the palace of Constantinople. In that palace, the Roman bishops, Gregory II and Gregory III, were blamed as the leaders of the revolt, and every effort was made, through deceit or force, to capture them and threaten their lives. The city was repeatedly attacked or besieged by commanders of the guard and high-ranking dukes and exarchs; they came with foreign troops, got some local support, and the superstition in Naples might shame those whose ancestors supported the cause of heresy. But these secret or open assaults were repelled by the bravery and vigilance of the Romans; the Greeks were defeated and massacred, their leaders faced disgraceful deaths, and the popes, though inclined to mercy, refused to plead for these guilty individuals. In Ravenna, various neighborhoods had been engaged in a blood feud for a long time, and in religious disputes found new fuel for their factionalism: however, the supporters of the images had greater numbers or determination, and the exarch, who tried to stem the tide, lost his life in a popular uprising. To punish this wicked act and restore his control in Italy, the emperor sent a fleet and army into the Adriatic Sea. After suffering significant losses and delays due to the winds and waves, the Greeks landed near Ravenna: they threatened to depopulate the guilty capital and possibly outdo Justinian II, who had punished a previous rebellion by executing fifty of the leading citizens. The women and clergy, dressed in sackcloth and ashes, were on their knees in prayer; the men were armed to defend their homeland; the common threat united the factions, and they preferred the outcome of battle over the slow suffering of a siege. On a fiercely contested day, as the two armies alternated between retreating and advancing, a vision appeared, a voice was heard, and Ravenna was assured of victory. The foreigners retreated to their ships, but the bustling coastline sent out a multitude of boats; the waters of the Po were so deeply stained with blood that for six years, public sentiment kept people from eating the river fish; and the establishment of an annual feast perpetuated the veneration of images and the hatred of the Greek tyrant. Amidst the triumph of the Catholic forces, the Roman pontiff convened a synod of ninety-three bishops against the heresy of the Iconoclasts. With their agreement, he declared a general excommunication against anyone who, by word or deed, would attack the traditions of the fathers and the images of the saints: in this declaration, the emperor was indirectly implicated, but the vote for a final and hopeless protest suggested that the threat of anathema still loomed over his guilty head. No sooner had they secured their own safety, the worship of images, and the freedom of Rome and Italy, than the popes seemed to ease their strictness and spared the remnants of the Byzantine rule. Their moderate decisions delayed and prevented the election of a new emperor, and they urged the Italians not to break away from the Roman monarchy. The exarch was allowed to stay within the walls of Ravenna, a captive rather than a ruler; and until the imperial coronation of Charlemagne, the government of Rome and Italy was conducted in the name of the successors of Constantine.

The liberty of Rome, which had been oppressed by the arms and arts of Augustus, was rescued, after seven hundred and fifty years of servitude, from the persecution of Leo the Isaurian. By the Cæsars, the triumphs of the consuls had been annihilated: in the decline and fall of the empire, the god Terminus, the sacred boundary, had insensibly receded from the ocean, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Euphrates; and Rome was reduced to her ancient territory from Viterbo to Terracina, and from Narni to the mouth of the Tyber. When the kings were banished, the republic reposed on the firm basis which had been founded by their wisdom and virtue. Their perpetual jurisdiction was divided between two annual magistrates: the senate continued to exercise the powers of administration and counsel; and the legislative authority was distributed in the assemblies of the people, by a well-proportioned scale of property and service. Ignorant of the arts of luxury, the primitive Romans had improved the science of government and war: the will of the community was absolute: the rights of individuals were sacred: one hundred and thirty thousand citizens were armed for defence or conquest; and a band of robbers and outlaws was moulded into a nation deserving of freedom and ambitious of glory. When the sovereignty of the Greek emperors was extinguished, the ruins of Rome presented the sad image of depopulation and decay: her slavery was a habit, her liberty an accident; the effect of superstition, and the object of her own amazement and terror. The last vestige of the substance, or even the forms, of the constitution, was obliterated from the practice and memory of the Romans; and they were devoid of knowledge, or virtue, again to build the fabric of a commonwealth. Their scanty remnant, the offspring of slaves and strangers, was despicable in the eyes of the victorious Barbarians. As often as the Franks or Lombards expressed their most bitter contempt of a foe, they called him a Roman; "and in this name," says the bishop Liutprand, "we include whatever is base, whatever is cowardly, whatever is perfidious, the extremes of avarice and luxury, and every vice that can prostitute the dignity of human nature." By the necessity of their situation, the inhabitants of Rome were cast into the rough model of a republican government: they were compelled to elect some judges in peace, and some leaders in war: the nobles assembled to deliberate, and their resolves could not be executed without the union and consent of the multitude. The style of the Roman senate and people was revived, but the spirit was fled; and their new independence was disgraced by the tumultuous conflict of licentiousness and oppression. The want of laws could only be supplied by the influence of religion, and their foreign and domestic counsels were moderated by the authority of the bishop. His alms, his sermons, his correspondence with the kings and prelates of the West, his recent services, their gratitude, and oath, accustomed the Romans to consider him as the first magistrate or prince of the city. The Christian humility of the popes was not offended by the name of Dominus, or Lord; and their face and inscription are still apparent on the most ancient coins. Their temporal dominion is now confirmed by the reverence of a thousand years; and their noblest title is the free choice of a people, whom they had redeemed from slavery.

The freedom of Rome, which had been suppressed by the power and influence of Augustus, was restored, after seven hundred and fifty years of oppression, from the tyranny of Leo the Isaurian. The achievements of the consuls had been wiped out by the Cæsars: during the decline and fall of the empire, the god Terminus, representing sacred boundaries, had gradually receded from the ocean, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Euphrates; and Rome was reduced to its ancient territory from Viterbo to Terracina, and from Narni to the mouth of the Tiber. After the kings were expelled, the republic stood on a solid foundation established by their wisdom and virtue. Their ongoing authority was shared between two annual magistrates: the senate continued to hold powers of governance and advice; and the legislative power was divided in the people's assemblies, balanced by property and service. Unfamiliar with luxurious living, the early Romans had advanced the principles of governance and warfare: the will of the community was absolute; individual rights were respected; one hundred and thirty thousand citizens were armed for defense or conquest; and a group of robbers and outcasts transformed into a nation deserving of freedom and aspiring for glory. When the rule of the Greek emperors ended, the ruins of Rome reflected a grim picture of decline and abandonment: its slavery became a habit, its freedom a rarity; a consequence of superstition, and the source of its own bewilderment and fear. The last remnants of the substance, or even the forms, of the constitution had vanished from Roman practice and memory, leaving them ignorant and lacking the virtue to rebuild a commonwealth. Their meager population, made up of slaves and outsiders, was looked down upon by the conquering Barbarians. Whenever the Franks or Lombards expressed their deepest disdain for an enemy, they would refer to him as a Roman; "and in this name," says Bishop Liutprand, "we include everything that is base, everything that is cowardly, everything that is deceitful, the extremes of greed and luxury, and every vice that can demean the dignity of human nature." By necessity, the people of Rome were forced into a rough version of a republican government: they had to elect some judges during peace, and some leaders during war: the nobles gathered to discuss matters, and their decisions could not be implemented without the agreement and participation of the masses. The style of the Roman senate and people was revived, but the spirit was gone; and their newfound independence was marred by the chaotic struggle between freedom and oppression. The lack of laws could only be addressed by the influence of religion, and their foreign and domestic affairs were guided by the authority of the bishop. His charity, sermons, correspondence with kings and church leaders in the West, his recent acts, their gratitude, and oath led the Romans to view him as the leading magistrate or prince of the city. The humble nature of the popes was not offended by the title of Dominus, or Lord; and their image and inscription are still seen on the oldest coins. Their temporal rule is now supported by a thousand years of reverence; and their most honorable title is the free choice of a people that they had liberated from slavery.

In the quarrels of ancient Greece, the holy people of Elis enjoyed a perpetual peace, under the protection of Jupiter, and in the exercise of the Olympic games. Happy would it have been for the Romans, if a similar privilege had guarded the patrimony of St. Peter from the calamities of war; if the Christians, who visited the holy threshold, would have sheathed their swords in the presence of the apostle and his successor. But this mystic circle could have been traced only by the wand of a legislator and a sage: this pacific system was incompatible with the zeal and ambition of the popes; the Romans were not addicted, like the inhabitants of Elis, to the innocent and placid labors of agriculture; and the Barbarians of Italy, though softened by the climate, were far below the Grecian states in the institutions of public and private life. A memorable example of repentance and piety was exhibited by Liutprand, king of the Lombards. In arms, at the gate of the Vatican, the conqueror listened to the voice of Gregory the Second, withdrew his troops, resigned his conquests, respectfully visited the church of St. Peter, and after performing his devotions, offered his sword and dagger, his cuirass and mantle, his silver cross, and his crown of gold, on the tomb of the apostle. But this religious fervor was the illusion, perhaps the artifice, of the moment; the sense of interest is strong and lasting; the love of arms and rapine was congenial to the Lombards; and both the prince and people were irresistibly tempted by the disorders of Italy, the nakedness of Rome, and the unwarlike profession of her new chief. On the first edicts of the emperor, they declared themselves the champions of the holy images: Liutprand invaded the province of Romagna, which had already assumed that distinctive appellation; the Catholics of the Exarchate yielded without reluctance to his civil and military power; and a foreign enemy was introduced for the first time into the impregnable fortress of Ravenna. That city and fortress were speedily recovered by the active diligence and maritime forces of the Venetians; and those faithful subjects obeyed the exhortation of Gregory himself, in separating the personal guilt of Leo from the general cause of the Roman empire. The Greeks were less mindful of the service, than the Lombards of the injury: the two nations, hostile in their faith, were reconciled in a dangerous and unnatural alliance: the king and the exarch marched to the conquest of Spoleto and Rome: the storm evaporated without effect, but the policy of Liutprand alarmed Italy with a vexatious alternative of hostility and truce. His successor Astolphus declared himself the equal enemy of the emperor and the pope: Ravenna was subdued by force or treachery, and this final conquest extinguished the series of the exarchs, who had reigned with a subordinate power since the time of Justinian and the ruin of the Gothic kingdom. Rome was summoned to acknowledge the victorious Lombard as her lawful sovereign; the annual tribute of a piece of gold was fixed as the ransom of each citizen, and the sword of destruction was unsheathed to exact the penalty of her disobedience. The Romans hesitated; they entreated; they complained; and the threatening Barbarians were checked by arms and negotiations, till the popes had engaged the friendship of an ally and avenger beyond the Alps.

In the conflicts of ancient Greece, the sacred people of Elis enjoyed lasting peace, protected by Jupiter, while participating in the Olympic games. It would have been fortunate for the Romans if a similar privilege had safeguarded St. Peter's legacy from the horrors of war; if the Christians who visited the holy site had laid down their weapons in the presence of the apostle and his successor. However, this sacred boundary could only have been established by a wise legislator; this peaceful system clashed with the zeal and ambition of the popes. Unlike the people of Elis, the Romans were not devoted to the simple and calm tasks of farming; and the Barbarians of Italy, although softened by the climate, were far behind the Greek states in terms of public and private institutions. A notable demonstration of repentance and devotion was shown by Liutprand, king of the Lombards. Armed and at the gate of the Vatican, the conqueror listened to the words of Gregory the Second, withdrew his troops, gave up his conquests, respectfully visited St. Peter's church, and after praying, offered his sword, dagger, armor, cloak, silver cross, and gold crown at the apostle's tomb. But this religious fervor may have been just a fleeting illusion; the drive for self-interest is both powerful and enduring; the Lombards had a strong affinity for warfare and plunder; and both the king and his people were irresistibly drawn to Italy's chaos, Rome's vulnerability, and the peaceful nature of her new leader. When the emperor issued his first edicts, they proclaimed themselves defenders of the holy images: Liutprand invaded the province of Romagna, which had already adopted that distinctive name; the Catholics of the Exarchate succumbed without reluctance to his civil and military authority; and for the first time, a foreign enemy was brought into the stronghold of Ravenna. That city and fortress were quickly reclaimed through the active efforts and naval forces of the Venetians; and those loyal subjects followed Gregory's call to separate Leo's personal faults from the broader cause of the Roman Empire. The Greeks cared less about the service than the Lombards did about the offense: the two nations, divided in faith, formed a dangerous and unnatural alliance: the king and the exarch moved towards conquering Spoleto and Rome. The threat dissipated without consequence, but Liutprand's strategies caused Italy to face a troubling choice between war and peace. His successor Astolphus declared himself an equal adversary of both the emperor and the pope: Ravenna was taken by force or betrayal, and this final victory ended the line of exarchs who had ruled with limited power since Justinian's time and the fall of the Gothic kingdom. Rome was ordered to recognize the victorious Lombard as her rightful ruler; an annual tribute of a piece of gold was set as the ransom for each citizen, and destruction was threatened to enforce punishment for disobedience. The Romans wavered; they pleaded; they complained; and the menacing Barbarians were held off through military action and negotiations until the popes secured the friendship of an ally and avenger from beyond the Alps.

In his distress, the first Gregory had implored the aid of the hero of the age, of Charles Martel, who governed the French monarchy with the humble title of mayor or duke; and who, by his signal victory over the Saracens, had saved his country, and perhaps Europe, from the Mahometan yoke. The ambassadors of the pope were received by Charles with decent reverence; but the greatness of his occupations, and the shortness of his life, prevented his interference in the affairs of Italy, except by a friendly and ineffectual mediation. His son Pepin, the heir of his power and virtues, assumed the office of champion of the Roman church; and the zeal of the French prince appears to have been prompted by the love of glory and religion. But the danger was on the banks of the Tyber, the succor on those of the Seine, and our sympathy is cold to the relation of distant misery. Amidst the tears of the city, Stephen the Third embraced the generous resolution of visiting in person the courts of Lombardy and France, to deprecate the injustice of his enemy, or to excite the pity and indignation of his friend. After soothing the public despair by litanies and orations, he undertook this laborious journey with the ambassadors of the French monarch and the Greek emperor. The king of the Lombards was inexorable; but his threats could not silence the complaints, nor retard the speed of the Roman pontiff, who traversed the Pennine Alps, reposed in the abbey of St. Maurice, and hastened to grasp the right hand of his protector; a hand which was never lifted in vain, either in war or friendship. Stephen was entertained as the visible successor of the apostle; at the next assembly, the field of March or of May, his injuries were exposed to a devout and warlike nation, and he repassed the Alps, not as a suppliant, but as a conqueror, at the head of a French army, which was led by the king in person. The Lombards, after a weak resistance, obtained an ignominious peace, and swore to restore the possessions, and to respect the sanctity, of the Roman church. But no sooner was Astolphus delivered from the presence of the French arms, than he forgot his promise and resented his disgrace. Rome was again encompassed by his arms; and Stephen, apprehensive of fatiguing the zeal of his Transalpine allies enforced his complaint and request by an eloquent letter in the name and person of St. Peter himself. The apostle assures his adopted sons, the king, the clergy, and the nobles of France, that, dead in the flesh, he is still alive in the spirit; that they now hear, and must obey, the voice of the founder and guardian of the Roman church; that the Virgin, the angels, the saints, and the martyrs, and all the host of heaven, unanimously urge the request, and will confess the obligation; that riches, victory, and paradise, will crown their pious enterprise, and that eternal damnation will be the penalty of their neglect, if they suffer his tomb, his temple, and his people, to fall into the hands of the perfidious Lombards. The second expedition of Pepin was not less rapid and fortunate than the first: St. Peter was satisfied, Rome was again saved, and Astolphus was taught the lessons of justice and sincerity by the scourge of a foreign master. After this double chastisement, the Lombards languished about twenty years in a state of languor and decay. But their minds were not yet humbled to their condition; and instead of affecting the pacific virtues of the feeble, they peevishly harassed the Romans with a repetition of claims, evasions, and inroads, which they undertook without reflection, and terminated without glory. On either side, their expiring monarchy was pressed by the zeal and prudence of Pope Adrian the First, the genius, the fortune, and greatness of Charlemagne, the son of Pepin; these heroes of the church and state were united in public and domestic friendship, and while they trampled on the prostrate, they varnished their proceedings with the fairest colors of equity and moderation. The passes of the Alps, and the walls of Pavia, were the only defence of the Lombards; the former were surprised, the latter were invested, by the son of Pepin; and after a blockade of two years, Desiderius, the last of their native princes, surrendered his sceptre and his capital. Under the dominion of a foreign king, but in the possession of their national laws, the Lombards became the brethren, rather than the subjects, of the Franks; who derived their blood, and manners, and language, from the same Germanic origin.

In his distress, the first Gregory asked for help from the hero of the time, Charles Martel, who ruled the French monarchy with the humble title of mayor or duke. By defeating the Saracens, he saved his country, and maybe Europe, from the Muslim oppression. The pope's ambassadors were welcomed by Charles with respect; however, his many responsibilities and short life kept him from intervening in Italy's issues, except through friendly and ineffective mediation. His son Pepin, the heir to his power and qualities, took on the role of protector of the Roman church, driven by a passion for glory and religion. But while the danger loomed by the Tiber River, the help was far away on the Seine, and our empathy tends to cool when faced with distant suffering. Amidst the tears of the city, Stephen the Third made the brave decision to personally visit the courts of Lombardy and France, to plead for justice against his enemy or to stir the compassion and anger of his ally. After comforting the public sorrow with prayers and speeches, he embarked on this challenging journey alongside the ambassadors of the French king and the Greek emperor. The Lombard king was unyielding; however, his threats couldn't silence the complaints nor slow down the Roman pontiff, who crossed the Pennine Alps, rested at the abbey of St. Maurice, and rushed to take the hand of his protector— a hand that was always raised in both battle and friendship. Stephen was treated like the visible successor of the apostle; at the next assembly, the field of March or May, his grievances were laid bare before a devout and warrior nation, and he returned over the Alps, not as a beggar, but as a victor, at the head of a French army led by the king himself. The Lombards, after a weak defense, signed a shameful peace agreement, swearing to restore the property and honor the sanctity of the Roman church. But once Astolphus was free from the threat of the French, he forgot his promise and resented his humiliation. Rome was once again besieged by his forces; and Stephen, fearing to exhaust the enthusiasm of his allies from across the Alps, reinforced his plea with an eloquent letter in the name and person of St. Peter himself. The apostle assured his adopted sons, the king, the clergy, and the nobles of France, that although dead in body, he was still alive in spirit; that they now hear and must obey the voice of the founder and protector of the Roman church; that the Virgin, the angels, the saints, and all the heavenly host unanimously supported his request and would affirm the obligation; that wealth, victory, and paradise would crown their holy cause, and that eternal damnation would be the consequence of their neglect if they allowed his tomb, his temple, and his people to fall into the hands of the treacherous Lombards. Pepin's second campaign was just as swift and successful as the first: St. Peter was pleased, Rome was saved again, and Astolphus learned lessons of justice and honesty from a foreign master’s punishment. After this double punishment, the Lombards lingered for about twenty years in a state of weakness and decline. But their spirits were still not humbled; instead of adopting the peaceful virtues of the weak, they stubbornly troubled the Romans with repeated claims, excuses, and raids that they undertook thoughtlessly and ended without glory. On both sides, their diminishing monarchy was pressured by the zeal and wisdom of Pope Adrian the First and the genius, luck, and greatness of Charlemagne, Pepin's son. These champions of the church and state were united in both public and personal friendship, and while they trampled on the fallen, they decorated their actions with the fairest claims of justice and moderation. The passes of the Alps and the walls of Pavia were the only defenses of the Lombards; the former were surprised and the latter besieged by Pepin’s son. After a blockade of two years, Desiderius, the last of their native rulers, surrendered his scepter and his city. Under a foreign king's rule, but retaining their national laws, the Lombards became the brothers, rather than the subjects, of the Franks, who shared the same Germanic blood, customs, and language.





Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part III.

The mutual obligations of the popes and the Carlovingian family form the important link of ancient and modern, of civil and ecclesiastical, history. In the conquest of Italy, the champions of the Roman church obtained a favorable occasion, a specious title, the wishes of the people, the prayers and intrigues of the clergy. But the most essential gifts of the popes to the Carlovingian race were the dignities of king of France, and of patrician of Rome. I. Under the sacerdotal monarchy of St. Peter, the nations began to resume the practice of seeking, on the banks of the Tyber, their kings, their laws, and the oracles of their fate. The Franks were perplexed between the name and substance of their government. All the powers of royalty were exercised by Pepin, mayor of the palace; and nothing, except the regal title, was wanting to his ambition. His enemies were crushed by his valor; his friends were multiplied by his liberality; his father had been the savior of Christendom; and the claims of personal merit were repeated and ennobled in a descent of four generations. The name and image of royalty was still preserved in the last descendant of Clovis, the feeble Childeric; but his obsolete right could only be used as an instrument of sedition: the nation was desirous of restoring the simplicity of the constitution; and Pepin, a subject and a prince, was ambitious to ascertain his own rank and the fortune of his family. The mayor and the nobles were bound, by an oath of fidelity, to the royal phantom: the blood of Clovis was pure and sacred in their eyes; and their common ambassadors addressed the Roman pontiff, to dispel their scruples, or to absolve their promise. The interest of Pope Zachary, the successor of the two Gregories, prompted him to decide, and to decide in their favor: he pronounced that the nation might lawfully unite in the same person the title and authority of king; and that the unfortunate Childeric, a victim of the public safety, should be degraded, shaved, and confined in a monastery for the remainder of his days. An answer so agreeable to their wishes was accepted by the Franks as the opinion of a casuist, the sentence of a judge, or the oracle of a prophet: the Merovingian race disappeared from the earth; and Pepin was exalted on a buckler by the suffrage of a free people, accustomed to obey his laws and to march under his standard. His coronation was twice performed, with the sanction of the popes, by their most faithful servant St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany, and by the grateful hands of Stephen the Third, who, in the monastery of St. Denys placed the diadem on the head of his benefactor. The royal unction of the kings of Israel was dexterously applied: the successor of St. Peter assumed the character of a divine ambassador: a German chieftain was transformed into the Lord's anointed; and this Jewish rite has been diffused and maintained by the superstition and vanity of modern Europe. The Franks were absolved from their ancient oath; but a dire anathema was thundered against them and their posterity, if they should dare to renew the same freedom of choice, or to elect a king, except in the holy and meritorious race of the Carlovingian princes. Without apprehending the future danger, these princes gloried in their present security: the secretary of Charlemagne affirms, that the French sceptre was transferred by the authority of the popes; and in their boldest enterprises, they insist, with confidence, on this signal and successful act of temporal jurisdiction.

The mutual responsibilities of the popes and the Carolingian family create a key connection between ancient and modern history, as well as between civil and religious matters. In their conquest of Italy, the defenders of the Roman church found a great opportunity, a tempting justification, the desires of the people, and the prayers and schemes of the clergy. However, the most significant contributions of the popes to the Carolingian lineage were the titles of king of France and patrician of Rome. I. Under the leadership of St. Peter, nations started to return to the practice of seeking their kings, laws, and prophecies of fate along the banks of the Tiber. The Franks were confused between the name and the reality of their government. Pepin, the mayor of the palace, held all the powers of royalty; he lacked nothing but the royal title to satisfy his ambitions. His enemies were defeated by his courage; his allies grew due to his generosity; his father had been a savior of Christendom; and the claims of personal merit were reaffirmed and exalted through a lineage of four generations. The name and image of royalty were still held by the last descendant of Clovis, the weak Childeric; but his outdated rights could only be a tool for rebellion: the nation wanted to restore the simplicity of governance, and Pepin, both a subject and a prince, aimed to establish his own status and ensure his family's fortune. The mayor and the nobles were bound by an oath of loyalty to the royal figurehead: the blood of Clovis was seen as pure and sacred by them; and their shared envoys reached out to the Roman pontiff, seeking to resolve their doubts or to absolve their vows. Pope Zachary, the successor to the two Gregories, was motivated by his interests to make a decision — in favor of the Franks. He declared that the nation could lawfully combine the title and authority of king in one person; and that the unfortunate Childeric, a victim of public safety, should be dethroned, shorn, and confined in a monastery for the rest of his life. The Franks accepted such a favorable response as the judgment of a scholar, the ruling of a judge, or the insight of a prophet: the Merovingian dynasty vanished from existence; and Pepin was elevated on a shield by the vote of a free people, used to following his laws and marching under his banner. His coronation took place twice, with the endorsement of the popes, conducted by their loyal servant St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany, and by the grateful hands of Stephen the Third, who placed the crown on the head of his benefactor in the monastery of St. Denys. The royal anointing of the kings of Israel was skillfully performed: the successor of St. Peter took on the role of a divine ambassador: a German leader became the Lord's anointed; and this Jewish rite has been spread and maintained through the superstition and pride of modern Europe. The Franks were released from their old oath; but a terrible curse was proclaimed against them and their offspring if they dared to restore their previous freedom of choice, or to elect a king, except from the holy and deserving line of the Carolingian princes. Without anticipating future dangers, these princes took pride in their current security: Charlemagne's secretary affirms that the French scepter was passed down by the authority of the popes; and in their boldest ventures, they confidently cite this significant and successful act of temporal authority.

II. In the change of manners and language the patricians of Rome were far removed from the senate of Romulus, or the palace of Constantine, from the free nobles of the republic, or the fictitious parents of the emperor. After the recovery of Italy and Africa by the arms of Justinian, the importance and danger of those remote provinces required the presence of a supreme magistrate; he was indifferently styled the exarch or the patrician; and these governors of Ravenna, who fill their place in the chronology of princes, extended their jurisdiction over the Roman city. Since the revolt of Italy and the loss of the Exarchate, the distress of the Romans had exacted some sacrifice of their independence. Yet, even in this act, they exercised the right of disposing of themselves; and the decrees of the senate and people successively invested Charles Martel and his posterity with the honors of patrician of Rome. The leaders of a powerful nation would have disdained a servile title and subordinate office; but the reign of the Greek emperors was suspended; and, in the vacancy of the empire, they derived a more glorious commission from the pope and the republic. The Roman ambassadors presented these patricians with the keys of the shrine of St. Peter, as a pledge and symbol of sovereignty; with a holy banner which it was their right and duty to unfurl in the defence of the church and city. In the time of Charles Martel and of Pepin, the interposition of the Lombard kingdom covered the freedom, while it threatened the safety, of Rome; and the patriciate represented only the title, the service, the alliance, of these distant protectors. The power and policy of Charlemagne annihilated an enemy, and imposed a master. In his first visit to the capital, he was received with all the honors which had formerly been paid to the exarch, the representative of the emperor; and these honors obtained some new decorations from the joy and gratitude of Pope Adrian the First. No sooner was he informed of the sudden approach of the monarch, than he despatched the magistrates and nobles of Rome to meet him, with the banner, about thirty miles from the city. At the distance of one mile, the Flaminian way was lined with the schools, or national communities, of Greeks, Lombards, Saxons, &c.: the Roman youth were under arms; and the children of a more tender age, with palms and olive branches in their hands, chanted the praises of their great deliverer. At the aspect of the holy crosses, and ensigns of the saints, he dismounted from his horse, led the procession of his nobles to the Vatican, and, as he ascended the stairs, devoutly kissed each step of the threshold of the apostles. In the portico, Adrian expected him at the head of his clergy: they embraced, as friends and equals; but in their march to the altar, the king or patrician assumed the right hand of the pope. Nor was the Frank content with these vain and empty demonstrations of respect. In the twenty-six years that elapsed between the conquest of Lombardy and his Imperial coronation, Rome, which had been delivered by the sword, was subject, as his own, to the sceptre of Charlemagne. The people swore allegiance to his person and family: in his name money was coined, and justice was administered; and the election of the popes was examined and confirmed by his authority. Except an original and self-inherent claim of sovereignty, there was not any prerogative remaining, which the title of emperor could add to the patrician of Rome.

II. With the shift in behavior and language, the patricians of Rome were a far cry from the senate of Romulus or the palace of Constantine, or the free nobles of the republic, or the imaginary parents of the emperor. After Justinian's military campaigns reclaimed Italy and Africa, the significance and threat of those distant provinces necessitated the presence of a supreme magistrate, who was referred to as either the exarch or the patrician. These governors from Ravenna, who occupy a spot in the timeline of rulers, extended their authority over the city of Rome. Following Italy's revolt and the loss of the Exarchate, the struggles of the Romans required them to sacrifice some of their independence. Yet, even in this situation, they exercised their right to govern themselves; and the decrees of the senate and the people gradually granted Charles Martel and his descendants the honors of patrician of Rome. Leaders of a powerful nation would have looked down on such a servile title and subordinate role; however, the reign of the Greek emperors had come to a halt, and in the absence of the empire, they received a more prestigious role from the pope and the republic. The Roman ambassadors presented these patricians with the keys to St. Peter's shrine as a pledge and symbol of sovereignty, along with a holy banner that it was their right and duty to raise in defense of the church and the city. During the times of Charles Martel and Pepin, the interference of the Lombard kingdom shielded the freedom of Rome while jeopardizing its safety; and the patriciate only represented the title, service, and alliance of these distant protectors. Charlemagne’s power and strategy eliminated an enemy and established a master. During his first visit to the capital, he was welcomed with all the honors that used to be given to the exarch, the emperor's representative; and these honors received additional embellishments from the joy and gratitude of Pope Adrian the First. As soon as he learned about the monarch's sudden arrival, he sent the magistrates and nobles of Rome to greet him with the banner, about thirty miles from the city. One mile away, the Flaminian Way was filled with the schools or national communities of Greeks, Lombards, Saxons, etc.: the Roman youth were armed, and younger children, holding palms and olive branches, sang praises for their great liberator. Upon seeing the holy crosses and the saints’ emblems, he got off his horse, led the procession of his nobles to the Vatican, and, while climbing the stairs, reverently kissed each step at the threshold of the apostles. In the portico, Adrian awaited him with his clergy: they embraced as friends and equals; but during their journey to the altar, the king or patrician took the pope's right side. The Frank wasn't satisfied with these superficial and empty gestures of respect. In the twenty-six years between his conquest of Lombardy and his Imperial coronation, Rome, liberated by the sword, was subject to the scepter of Charlemagne as if it were his own. The people pledged loyalty to him and his family; in his name, money was minted, justice was served, and the election of popes was reviewed and confirmed by his authority. Except for an original and inherent claim to sovereignty, there were no privileges left that the title of emperor could add to the patrician of Rome.

The gratitude of the Carlovingians was adequate to these obligations, and their names are consecrated, as the saviors and benefactors of the Roman church. Her ancient patrimony of farms and houses was transformed by their bounty into the temporal dominion of cities and provinces; and the donation of the Exarchate was the first-fruits of the conquests of Pepin. Astolphus with a sigh relinquished his prey; the keys and the hostages of the principal cities were delivered to the French ambassador; and, in his master's name, he presented them before the tomb of St. Peter. The ample measure of the Exarchate might comprise all the provinces of Italy which had obeyed the emperor and his vicegerent; but its strict and proper limits were included in the territories of Ravenna, Bologna, and Ferrara: its inseparable dependency was the Pentapolis, which stretched along the Adriatic from Rimini to Ancona, and advanced into the midland-country as far as the ridges of the Apennine. In this transaction, the ambition and avarice of the popes have been severely condemned. Perhaps the humility of a Christian priest should have rejected an earthly kingdom, which it was not easy for him to govern without renouncing the virtues of his profession. Perhaps a faithful subject, or even a generous enemy, would have been less impatient to divide the spoils of the Barbarian; and if the emperor had intrusted Stephen to solicit in his name the restitution of the Exarchate, I will not absolve the pope from the reproach of treachery and falsehood. But in the rigid interpretation of the laws, every one may accept, without injury, whatever his benefactor can bestow without injustice. The Greek emperor had abdicated, or forfeited, his right to the Exarchate; and the sword of Astolphus was broken by the stronger sword of the Carlovingian. It was not in the cause of the Iconoclast that Pepin has exposed his person and army in a double expedition beyond the Alps: he possessed, and might lawfully alienate, his conquests: and to the importunities of the Greeks he piously replied that no human consideration should tempt him to resume the gift which he had conferred on the Roman Pontiff for the remission of his sins, and the salvation of his soul. The splendid donation was granted in supreme and absolute dominion, and the world beheld for the first time a Christian bishop invested with the prerogatives of a temporal prince; the choice of magistrates, the exercise of justice, the imposition of taxes, and the wealth of the palace of Ravenna. In the dissolution of the Lombard kingdom, the inhabitants of the duchy of Spoleto sought a refuge from the storm, shaved their heads after the Roman fashion, declared themselves the servants and subjects of St. Peter, and completed, by this voluntary surrender, the present circle of the ecclesiastical state. That mysterious circle was enlarged to an indefinite extent, by the verbal or written donation of Charlemagne, who, in the first transports of his victory, despoiled himself and the Greek emperor of the cities and islands which had formerly been annexed to the Exarchate. But, in the cooler moments of absence and reflection, he viewed, with an eye of jealousy and envy, the recent greatness of his ecclesiastical ally. The execution of his own and his father's promises was respectfully eluded: the king of the Franks and Lombards asserted the inalienable rights of the empire; and, in his life and death, Ravenna, as well as Rome, was numbered in the list of his metropolitan cities. The sovereignty of the Exarchate melted away in the hands of the popes; they found in the archbishops of Ravenna a dangerous and domestic rival: the nobles and people disdained the yoke of a priest; and in the disorders of the times, they could only retain the memory of an ancient claim, which, in a more prosperous age, they have revived and realized.

The gratitude of the Carolingians was sufficient for these obligations, and their names are honored as the saviors and benefactors of the Roman church. Their generosity transformed the church's old holdings of farms and houses into the temporal authority over cities and provinces, and the donation of the Exarchate was the first outcome of Pepin's conquests. Astolphus sighed as he gave up his prize; the keys and hostages from the main cities were handed over to the French ambassador, who presented them before the tomb of St. Peter on behalf of his master. The broad extent of the Exarchate could cover all the provinces of Italy that had been loyal to the emperor and his representative, but its strict boundaries were confined to the territories of Ravenna, Bologna, and Ferrara. Its essential dependency was the Pentapolis, stretching along the Adriatic from Rimini to Ancona and reaching into the interior as far as the Apennine ridges. This event has drawn severe criticism for the ambition and greed of the popes. Perhaps a humble Christian priest should have turned down an earthly kingdom, which was difficult to govern without compromising his virtues. A loyal subject or even a generous enemy might have been less eager to claim the spoils from the barbarian, and if the emperor had tasked Stephen to request the return of the Exarchate in his name, I cannot excuse the pope from accusations of treachery and deceit. However, under a strict interpretation of the laws, anyone can accept whatever their benefactor can provide without injustice. The Greek emperor had renounced or lost his right to the Exarchate; and the sword of Astolphus was defeated by the mightier sword of the Carolingians. Pepin's expeditions beyond the Alps weren't for the cause of the Iconoclast; he had conquered and could rightfully give away his gains. When pressured by the Greeks, he piously replied that no earthly consideration could sway him to take back what he had given to the Roman Pontiff for the remission of his sins and the salvation of his soul. The significant donation was granted in supreme and absolute control, and the world saw, for the first time, a Christian bishop given the powers of a temporal prince—choosing magistrates, administering justice, imposing taxes, and managing the wealth of the palace of Ravenna. As the Lombard kingdom fell apart, the people of the duchy of Spoleto sought shelter from the turmoil, shaved their heads in the Roman style, declared themselves servants and subjects of St. Peter, and completed this voluntary submission, forming the current boundaries of the ecclesiastical state. That mysterious area was expanded indefinitely through the spoken or written donation of Charlemagne, who, in the fervor of his victory, deprived both himself and the Greek emperor of the cities and islands that had once belonged to the Exarchate. However, in the calm moments of reflection, he looked upon the recent power of his ecclesiastical ally with jealousy and envy. He carefully sidestepped fulfilling his and his father's promises; the king of the Franks and Lombards claimed the empire's inalienable rights, and in his life and death, Ravenna, along with Rome, was included among his metropolitan cities. The authority of the Exarchate diminished in the hands of the popes; they encountered a dangerous domestic rival in the archbishops of Ravenna, and the nobles and people rejected the control of a priest. Amidst the chaos of the times, they could only recall an ancient claim, which they later revived and fulfilled in a more prosperous age.

Fraud is the resource of weakness and cunning; and the strong, though ignorant, Barbarian was often entangled in the net of sacerdotal policy. The Vatican and Lateran were an arsenal and manufacture, which, according to the occasion, have produced or concealed a various collection of false or genuine, of corrupt or suspicious, acts, as they tended to promote the interest of the Roman church. Before the end of the eighth century, some apostolic scribe, perhaps the notorious Isidore, composed the decretals, and the donation of Constantine, the two magic pillars of the spiritual and temporal monarchy of the popes. This memorable donation was introduced to the world by an epistle of Adrian the First, who exhorts Charlemagne to imitate the liberality, and revive the name, of the great Constantine. According to the legend, the first of the Christian emperors was healed of the leprosy, and purified in the waters of baptism, by St. Silvester, the Roman bishop; and never was physician more gloriously recompensed. His royal proselyte withdrew from the seat and patrimony of St. Peter; declared his resolution of founding a new capital in the East; and resigned to the popes; the free and perpetual sovereignty of Rome, Italy, and the provinces of the West. This fiction was productive of the most beneficial effects. The Greek princes were convicted of the guilt of usurpation; and the revolt of Gregory was the claim of his lawful inheritance. The popes were delivered from their debt of gratitude; and the nominal gifts of the Carlovingians were no more than the just and irrevocable restitution of a scanty portion of the ecclesiastical state. The sovereignty of Rome no longer depended on the choice of a fickle people; and the successors of St. Peter and Constantine were invested with the purple and prerogatives of the Cæsars. So deep was the ignorance and credulity of the times, that the most absurd of fables was received, with equal reverence, in Greece and in France, and is still enrolled among the decrees of the canon law. The emperors, and the Romans, were incapable of discerning a forgery, that subverted their rights and freedom; and the only opposition proceeded from a Sabine monastery, which, in the beginning of the twelfth century, disputed the truth and validity of the donation of Constantine. In the revival of letters and liberty, this fictitious deed was transpierced by the pen of Laurentius Valla, the pen of an eloquent critic and a Roman patriot. His contemporaries of the fifteenth century were astonished at his sacrilegious boldness; yet such is the silent and irresistible progress of reason, that, before the end of the next age, the fable was rejected by the contempt of historians and poets, and the tacit or modest censure of the advocates of the Roman church. The popes themselves have indulged a smile at the credulity of the vulgar; but a false and obsolete title still sanctifies their reign; and, by the same fortune which has attended the decretals and the Sibylline oracles, the edifice has subsisted after the foundations have been undermined.

Fraud is the tool of the weak and the crafty, and the strong, although uninformed, Barbarian often found themselves caught in the web of religious strategy. The Vatican and Lateran served as a factory and warehouse that, depending on the situation, produced or hid a diverse array of false or genuine, corrupt or questionable, documents to promote the interests of the Roman church. Before the end of the eighth century, an apostolic scribe, perhaps the infamous Isidore, created the decretals and the donation of Constantine, the two foundational pillars of the spiritual and political power of the popes. This notable donation was presented to the world through a letter from Adrian the First, urging Charlemagne to imitate the generosity and revive the legacy of the great Constantine. According to the legend, the first Christian emperor was cured of leprosy and baptized by St. Silvester, the Roman bishop; and no physician was ever more richly rewarded. His royal convert distanced himself from the seat and heritage of St. Peter; announced his intention to establish a new capital in the East; and handed over to the popes the free and permanent sovereignty of Rome, Italy, and the western provinces. This fabrication yielded significant benefits. The Greek rulers were accused of usurping, and Gregory’s revolt was positioned as a claim to his rightful inheritance. The popes were freed from their obligation of gratitude; the nominal gifts from the Carolingians were merely the rightful and irreversible return of a small part of the church’s possessions. Rome's sovereignty no longer relied on the whims of a fickle populace; the successors of St. Peter and Constantine were granted the purple and privileges of the emperors. So profound was the ignorance and gullibility of the times that even the most ridiculous stories were accepted with equal reverence in Greece and France, and are still listed among the decrees of canon law. The emperors and Romans were unable to recognize a forgery that undermined their rights and freedom; only a Sabine monastery, in the early twelfth century, challenged the truth and validity of the donation of Constantine. During the revival of learning and freedom, this false document was pierced by the pen of Laurentius Valla, an eloquent critic and a Roman patriot. His contemporaries in the fifteenth century were astonished by his sacrilegious audacity; yet such is the quiet and unstoppable advance of reason that, by the end of the next century, the myth was dismissed with scorn by historians and poets, and quietly or modestly criticized by the supporters of the Roman church. The popes themselves have chuckled at the gullibility of the masses; yet a false and outdated title still legitimizes their reign; and, much like the decretals and the Sibylline oracles, this structure has persisted even after its foundations have crumbled.

While the popes established in Italy their freedom and dominion, the images, the first cause of their revolt, were restored in the Eastern empire. Under the reign of Constantine the Fifth, the union of civil and ecclesiastical power had overthrown the tree, without extirpating the root, of superstition. The idols (for such they were now held) were secretly cherished by the order and the sex most prone to devotion; and the fond alliance of the monks and females obtained a final victory over the reason and authority of man. Leo the Fourth maintained with less rigor the religion of his father and grandfather; but his wife, the fair and ambitious Irene, had imbibed the zeal of the Athenians, the heirs of the Idolatry, rather than the philosophy, of their ancestors. During the life of her husband, these sentiments were inflamed by danger and dissimulation, and she could only labor to protect and promote some favorite monks whom she drew from their caverns, and seated on the metropolitan thrones of the East. But as soon as she reigned in her own name and that of her son, Irene more seriously undertook the ruin of the Iconoclasts; and the first step of her future persecution was a general edict for liberty of conscience. In the restoration of the monks, a thousand images were exposed to the public veneration; a thousand legends were inverted of their sufferings and miracles. By the opportunities of death or removal, the episcopal seats were judiciously filled; the most eager competitors for earthly or celestial favor anticipated and flattered the judgment of their sovereign; and the promotion of her secretary Tarasius gave Irene the patriarch of Constantinople, and the command of the Oriental church. But the decrees of a general council could only be repealed by a similar assembly: the Iconoclasts whom she convened were bold in possession, and averse to debate; and the feeble voice of the bishops was reechoed by the more formidable clamor of the soldiers and people of Constantinople. The delay and intrigues of a year, the separation of the disaffected troops, and the choice of Nice for a second orthodox synod, removed these obstacles; and the episcopal conscience was again, after the Greek fashion, in the hands of the prince. No more than eighteen days were allowed for the consummation of this important work: the Iconoclasts appeared, not as judges, but as criminals or penitents: the scene was decorated by the legates of Pope Adrian and the Eastern patriarchs, the decrees were framed by the president Taracius, and ratified by the acclamations and subscriptions of three hundred and fifty bishops. They unanimously pronounced, that the worship of images is agreeable to Scripture and reason, to the fathers and councils of the church: but they hesitate whether that worship be relative or direct; whether the Godhead, and the figure of Christ, be entitled to the same mode of adoration. Of this second Nicene council the acts are still extant; a curious monument of superstition and ignorance, of falsehood and folly. I shall only notice the judgment of the bishops on the comparative merit of image-worship and morality. A monk had concluded a truce with the dæmon of fornication, on condition of interrupting his daily prayers to a picture that hung in his cell. His scruples prompted him to consult the abbot. "Rather than abstain from adoring Christ and his Mother in their holy images, it would be better for you," replied the casuist, "to enter every brothel, and visit every prostitute, in the city." For the honor of orthodoxy, at least the orthodoxy of the Roman church, it is somewhat unfortunate, that the two princes who convened the two councils of Nice are both stained with the blood of their sons. The second of these assemblies was approved and rigorously executed by the despotism of Irene, and she refused her adversaries the toleration which at first she had granted to her friends. During the five succeeding reigns, a period of thirty-eight years, the contest was maintained, with unabated rage and various success, between the worshippers and the breakers of the images; but I am not inclined to pursue with minute diligence the repetition of the same events. Nicephorus allowed a general liberty of speech and practice; and the only virtue of his reign is accused by the monks as the cause of his temporal and eternal perdition. Superstition and weakness formed the character of Michael the First, but the saints and images were incapable of supporting their votary on the throne. In the purple, Leo the Fifth asserted the name and religion of an Armenian; and the idols, with their seditious adherents, were condemned to a second exile. Their applause would have sanctified the murder of an impious tyrant, but his assassin and successor, the second Michael, was tainted from his birth with the Phrygian heresies: he attempted to mediate between the contending parties; and the intractable spirit of the Catholics insensibly cast him into the opposite scale. His moderation was guarded by timidity; but his son Theophilus, alike ignorant of fear and pity, was the last and most cruel of the Iconoclasts. The enthusiasm of the times ran strongly against them; and the emperors who stemmed the torrent were exasperated and punished by the public hatred. After the death of Theophilus, the final victory of the images was achieved by a second female, his widow Theodora, whom he left the guardian of the empire. Her measures were bold and decisive. The fiction of a tardy repentance absolved the fame and the soul of her deceased husband; the sentence of the Iconoclast patriarch was commuted from the loss of his eyes to a whipping of two hundred lashes: the bishops trembled, the monks shouted, and the festival of orthodoxy preserves the annual memory of the triumph of the images. A single question yet remained, whether they are endowed with any proper and inherent sanctity; it was agitated by the Greeks of the eleventh century; and as this opinion has the strongest recommendation of absurdity, I am surprised that it was not more explicitly decided in the affirmative. In the West, Pope Adrian the First accepted and announced the decrees of the Nicene assembly, which is now revered by the Catholics as the seventh in rank of the general councils. Rome and Italy were docile to the voice of their father; but the greatest part of the Latin Christians were far behind in the race of superstition. The churches of France, Germany, England, and Spain, steered a middle course between the adoration and the destruction of images, which they admitted into their temples, not as objects of worship, but as lively and useful memorials of faith and history. An angry book of controversy was composed and published in the name of Charlemagne: under his authority a synod of three hundred bishops was assembled at Frankfort: they blamed the fury of the Iconoclasts, but they pronounced a more severe censure against the superstition of the Greeks, and the decrees of their pretended council, which was long despised by the Barbarians of the West. Among them the worship of images advanced with a silent and insensible progress; but a large atonement is made for their hesitation and delay, by the gross idolatry of the ages which precede the reformation, and of the countries, both in Europe and America, which are still immersed in the gloom of superstition.

While the popes secured their independence and power in Italy, the images that initially sparked their rebellion were restored in the Eastern Empire. During Constantine the Fifth's reign, the alliance of civil and ecclesiastical power had cut down the tree of superstition but failed to uproot it. The idols—now viewed as such—were secretly embraced by those most devoted, particularly women and monks, creating a strong bond that eventually triumphed over reason and authority. Leo the Fourth was less strict about the faith than his father and grandfather, but his wife, the beautiful and ambitious Irene, had adopted the fervor of the Athenians, the descendants of the idolaters, rather than their philosophy. While her husband was alive, her passionate sentiments were fueled by danger and deceit, and she focused on supporting and elevating certain favorite monks, pulling them from their secluded lives and placing them on influential thrones in the East. However, once she reigned in her own name and that of her son, Irene earnestly worked to dismantle the Iconoclasts, starting with a general edict for religious freedom. In restoring the monks, a thousand images were brought back for public veneration, alongside a thousand modified legends about their sufferings and miracles. Through the deaths or removal of bishops, the episcopal positions were strategically filled; those vying for earthly or heavenly favor eagerly anticipated and flattered Irene's judgment. The promotion of her secretary Tarasius provided Irene with the patriarch of Constantinople and control over the Eastern church. However, a general council's decisions could only be overturned by another council: the Iconoclasts she called together were confident in their positions and reluctant to engage in debate, with the bishops’ feeble voices drowned out by the louder outcries of soldiers and the people of Constantinople. A year of delay and intrigue, alongside the separation of discontented troops and the selection of Nice for a second orthodox synod, cleared these obstacles; thus, the bishops' consciences fell back into the hands of the prince, as per Greek tradition. They were given just eighteen days to complete this significant task: the Iconoclasts appeared not as judges but as accused or repentant. The scene was embellished by representatives from Pope Adrian and the Eastern patriarchs, the decrees were crafted by President Tarasius, and they were confirmed by the acclamations and signatures of three hundred and fifty bishops. They unanimously declared that the worship of images aligns with Scripture and reason, as well as with the church's fathers and councils; however, they hesitated on whether such worship was relative or direct, and whether the Godhead and the image of Christ deserved the same type of adoration. The records of this second Nicene council still exist, serving as a curious testament to superstition and ignorance, falsehood and folly. I will only mention the bishops’ judgment on the relative merits of image-worship and morality. A monk had made a deal with the demon of fornication, agreeing to stop his daily prayers to a picture in his cell. His worries led him to consult the abbot. "Rather than stop adoring Christ and His Mother in their holy images, it would be better for you," replied the casuist, "to visit every brothel and prostitute in the city." For the sake of orthodoxy—at least the orthodoxy of the Roman church—it's somewhat unfortunate that the two rulers who convened the two councils of Nice both have blood on their hands from their own sons. The second assembly was enforced rigorously by Irene's despotism, and she denied her opponents the tolerance she initially extended to her friends. Over the next thirty-eight years, spanning five reigns, the struggle continued with relentless intensity and varying success between the image worshippers and the image destroyers; however, I don’t intend to meticulously follow the repetition of these events. Nicephorus allowed for general freedom of speech and practice; yet, the only virtue of his reign is criticized by the monks as the reason for his temporal and eternal doom. Superstition and weakness characterized Michael the First, but the saints and images could not support their follower on the throne. In power, Leo the Fifth proclaimed the name and religion of an Armenian, condemning the idols and their rebellious followers to a second exile. Their praise would have sanctified the murder of a wicked tyrant, but his assassin and successor, the second Michael, was born tainted by Phrygian heresies: he tried to mediate between the opposing sides, but the stubborn spirit of the Catholics gradually pulled him to their side. His moderation was shielded by cowardice; however, his son Theophilus, devoid of fear and mercy, was the last and most brutal of the Iconoclasts. The times were fervently against them; thus, emperors who opposed the tide faced public animosity and punishment. Following Theophilus's death, the ultimate triumph of the images was secured by another woman, his widow Theodora, who he left as the guardian of the empire. Her actions were bold and decisive. The story of a delayed repentance exonerated her husband's reputation and soul; the punishment of the Iconoclast patriarch was reduced from blinding to a two-hundred-lash beating: the bishops quaked, the monks cheered, and the festival of orthodoxy commemorates the annual victory of the images. One final question lingered regarding whether the images possess any inherent sanctity; this debate arose among the Greeks of the eleventh century. Given the absurdity of this perspective, I’m surprised it wasn’t more definitively affirmed. In the West, Pope Adrian the First accepted and proclaimed the decrees of the Nicene council, which Catholics now honor as the seventh general council. Rome and Italy listened to their father's voice; however, most Latin Christians lagged behind in the superstition race. The churches in France, Germany, England, and Spain navigated a middle path between idol worship and destruction, welcoming images into their temples, not as objects of worship, but as vibrant and useful reminders of faith and history. An angry book of controversy was authored and published in Charlemagne's name: under his authority, a synod of three hundred bishops gathered in Frankfort; they condemned the Iconoclasts' fury but issued a harsher rebuke against the Greeks’ superstition and the decrees of their so-called council, which had long been disregarded by the Western Barbarians. Among them, the worship of images advanced quietly and imperceptibly; however, a significant compensation for their hesitance and delay was made evident by the gross idolatry of the times preceding the Reformation and the countries, both in Europe and America, still engulfed in the shadows of superstition.





Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part IV.

It was after the Nicene synod, and under the reign of the pious Irene, that the popes consummated the separation of Rome and Italy, by the translation of the empire to the less orthodox Charlemagne. They were compelled to choose between the rival nations: religion was not the sole motive of their choice; and while they dissembled the failings of their friends, they beheld, with reluctance and suspicion, the Catholic virtues of their foes. The difference of language and manners had perpetuated the enmity of the two capitals; and they were alienated from each other by the hostile opposition of seventy years. In that schism the Romans had tasted of freedom, and the popes of sovereignty: their submission would have exposed them to the revenge of a jealous tyrant; and the revolution of Italy had betrayed the impotence, as well as the tyranny, of the Byzantine court. The Greek emperors had restored the images, but they had not restored the Calabrian estates and the Illyrian diocese, which the Iconoclasts had torn away from the successors of St. Peter; and Pope Adrian threatens them with a sentence of excommunication unless they speedily abjure this practical heresy. The Greeks were now orthodox; but their religion might be tainted by the breath of the reigning monarch: the Franks were now contumacious; but a discerning eye might discern their approaching conversion, from the use, to the adoration, of images. The name of Charlemagne was stained by the polemic acrimony of his scribes; but the conqueror himself conformed, with the temper of a statesman, to the various practice of France and Italy. In his four pilgrimages or visits to the Vatican, he embraced the popes in the communion of friendship and piety; knelt before the tomb, and consequently before the image, of the apostle; and joined, without scruple, in all the prayers and processions of the Roman liturgy. Would prudence or gratitude allow the pontiffs to renounce their benefactor? Had they a right to alienate his gift of the Exarchate? Had they power to abolish his government of Rome? The title of patrician was below the merit and greatness of Charlemagne; and it was only by reviving the Western empire that they could pay their obligations or secure their establishment. By this decisive measure they would finally eradicate the claims of the Greeks; from the debasement of a provincial town, the majesty of Rome would be restored: the Latin Christians would be united, under a supreme head, in their ancient metropolis; and the conquerors of the West would receive their crown from the successors of St. Peter. The Roman church would acquire a zealous and respectable advocate; and, under the shadow of the Carlovingian power, the bishop might exercise, with honor and safety, the government of the city.

It was after the Nicene council and during the reign of the devout Irene that the popes completed the separation of Rome and Italy by transferring the empire to the less orthodox Charlemagne. They had to choose between the competing nations: religion wasn't the only reason for their choice; and while they hid the flaws of their allies, they viewed the Catholic virtues of their enemies with hesitation and distrust. The differences in language and culture had kept the animosity between the two capitals alive, and they had been estranged from each other due to the hostile conflict lasting seventy years. In this schism, the Romans tasted freedom while the popes enjoyed sovereignty; their submission would have exposed them to the wrath of a jealous tyrant, and the upheaval in Italy had revealed both the weakness and tyranny of the Byzantine court. The Greek emperors had restored the images, but they had not restored the estates in Calabria or the diocese in Illyria, which the Iconoclasts had taken from the successors of St. Peter; and Pope Adrian threatened them with excommunication unless they quickly renounced this practical heresy. The Greeks were now orthodox; however, their religion could be influenced by the current ruler's views: the Franks were now rebellious, but a keen observer might see their impending conversion, shifting from using images to worshiping them. Charlemagne's name was tainted by the contentious writings of his scholars; yet he himself, with the mindset of a statesman, adapted to the diverse practices of France and Italy. In his four visits to the Vatican, he embraced the popes in friendship and devotion; knelt before the apostle's tomb, and thus before his image; and participated, without hesitation, in all the prayers and processions of the Roman liturgy. Would wisdom or thankfulness allow the popes to reject their benefactor? Did they have the right to give up his gift of the Exarchate? Did they have the power to abolish his rule over Rome? The title of patrician was beneath Charlemagne’s worth and greatness; and only by reviving the Western empire could they fulfill their obligations or secure their position. This decisive action would ultimately eliminate the Greek claims; from the degradation of a provincial town, the grandeur of Rome would be restored: Latin Christians would unite under a supreme leader in their ancient capital; and the conquerors of the West would receive their crown from the successors of St. Peter. The Roman church would gain a passionate and respected supporter; and, under the protection of the Carolingian power, the bishop could govern the city with dignity and safety.

Before the ruin of Paganism in Rome, the competition for a wealthy bishopric had often been productive of tumult and bloodshed. The people was less numerous, but the times were more savage, the prize more important, and the chair of St. Peter was fiercely disputed by the leading ecclesiastics who aspired to the rank of sovereign. The reign of Adrian the First surpasses the measure of past or succeeding ages; the walls of Rome, the sacred patrimony, the ruin of the Lombards, and the friendship of Charlemagne, were the trophies of his fame: he secretly edified the throne of his successors, and displayed in a narrow space the virtues of a great prince. His memory was revered; but in the next election, a priest of the Lateran, Leo the Third, was preferred to the nephew and the favorite of Adrian, whom he had promoted to the first dignities of the church. Their acquiescence or repentance disguised, above four years, the blackest intention of revenge, till the day of a procession, when a furious band of conspirators dispersed the unarmed multitude, and assaulted with blows and wounds the sacred person of the pope. But their enterprise on his life or liberty was disappointed, perhaps by their own confusion and remorse. Leo was left for dead on the ground: on his revival from the swoon, the effect of his loss of blood, he recovered his speech and sight; and this natural event was improved to the miraculous restoration of his eyes and tongue, of which he had been deprived, twice deprived, by the knife of the assassins. From his prison he escaped to the Vatican: the duke of Spoleto hastened to his rescue, Charlemagne sympathized in his injury, and in his camp of Paderborn in Westphalia accepted, or solicited, a visit from the Roman pontiff. Leo repassed the Alps with a commission of counts and bishops, the guards of his safety and the judges of his innocence; and it was not without reluctance, that the conqueror of the Saxons delayed till the ensuing year the personal discharge of this pious office. In his fourth and last pilgrimage, he was received at Rome with the due honors of king and patrician: Leo was permitted to purge himself by oath of the crimes imputed to his charge: his enemies were silenced, and the sacrilegious attempt against his life was punished by the mild and insufficient penalty of exile. On the festival of Christmas, the last year of the eighth century, Charlemagne appeared in the church of St. Peter; and, to gratify the vanity of Rome, he had exchanged the simple dress of his country for the habit of a patrician. After the celebration of the holy mysteries, Leo suddenly placed a precious crown on his head, and the dome resounded with the acclamations of the people, "Long life and victory to Charles, the most pious Augustus, crowned by God the great and pacific emperor of the Romans!" The head and body of Charlemagne were consecrated by the royal unction: after the example of the Cæsars, he was saluted or adored by the pontiff: his coronation oath represents a promise to maintain the faith and privileges of the church; and the first-fruits were paid in his rich offerings to the shrine of his apostle. In his familiar conversation, the emperor protested the ignorance of the intentions of Leo, which he would have disappointed by his absence on that memorable day. But the preparations of the ceremony must have disclosed the secret; and the journey of Charlemagne reveals his knowledge and expectation: he had acknowledged that the Imperial title was the object of his ambition, and a Roman synod had pronounced, that it was the only adequate reward of his merit and services.

Before the decline of Paganism in Rome, the struggle for a wealthy bishop position often resulted in chaos and violence. The population was smaller, yet the times were more brutal, the reward more significant, and the chair of St. Peter was hotly contested by prominent church leaders who sought to elevate their status. The reign of Adrian the First exceeds both previous and subsequent periods; during his rule, Rome's walls, the sacred inheritance, the defeat of the Lombards, and the friendship with Charlemagne became symbols of his legacy. He quietly strengthened the throne for his successors and showcased the traits of a great leader in a compact space. He was honored in memory; however, in the next election, Leo the Third, a priest from the Lateran, was chosen over Adrian's nephew, who had been favored in the church. Their outward acceptance or remorse concealed a deep desire for revenge for over four years, until a day of procession when a violent group of conspirators broke up the unarmed crowd and violently attacked the pope. Their attempt on his life was thwarted, possibly due to their own confusion and guilt. Leo was left for dead on the ground; when he regained consciousness from his blood loss, he was able to speak and see again. This event was interpreted as a miraculous restoration of his sight and voice, which had been taken away from him by the assassins' blades. He escaped from his confinement to the Vatican: the duke of Spoleto rushed to his aid, Charlemagne expressed his support, and in his camp in Paderborn, Westphalia, he welcomed a visit from the Roman pontiff. Leo crossed the Alps with a delegation of counts and bishops, who ensured his safety and confirmed his innocence; it was only with hesitation that Charlemagne postponed a personal visit for this holy cause until the following year. On his fourth and final pilgrimage, he was received in Rome with the honors due to a king and patrician: Leo was allowed to clear himself of the accusations against him by taking an oath. His enemies were silenced, and the sacrilegious attempt on his life was punished with a mild and inadequate sentence of exile. On Christmas Day, in the last year of the eighth century, Charlemagne appeared in St. Peter's church, and to satisfy Rome's pride, he changed from his plain attire to the garments of a patrician. After the holy rituals, Leo suddenly crowned him, and the church echoed with the people's cheers, "Long life and victory to Charles, the most pious Augustus, crowned by God, the great and peaceful emperor of the Romans!" Charlemagne's head and body were anointed with royal oil: following the example of the Caesars, he was honored and revered by the pontiff; his coronation oath was a promise to uphold the church's faith and privileges, and he made rich offerings at the shrine of his apostle. In his casual talks, the emperor claimed he was unaware of Leo's plans and would have thwarted them by not showing up that significant day. However, the ceremony's preparations likely revealed the secret; Charlemagne's journey indicated his awareness and anticipation. He acknowledged that the title of Emperor was his ambition, and a Roman synod declared it the only fitting reward for his merits and services.

The appellation of great has been often bestowed, and sometimes deserved; but Charlemagne is the only prince in whose favor the title has been indissolubly blended with the name. That name, with the addition of saint, is inserted in the Roman calendar; and the saint, by a rare felicity, is crowned with the praises of the historians and philosophers of an enlightened age. His real merit is doubtless enhanced by the barbarism of the nation and the times from which he emerged: but the apparent magnitude of an object is likewise enlarged by an unequal comparison; and the ruins of Palmyra derive a casual splendor from the nakedness of the surrounding desert. Without injustice to his fame, I may discern some blemishes in the sanctity and greatness of the restorer of the Western empire. Of his moral virtues, chastity is not the most conspicuous: but the public happiness could not be materially injured by his nine wives or concubines, the various indulgence of meaner or more transient amours, the multitude of his bastards whom he bestowed on the church, and the long celibacy and licentious manners of his daughters, whom the father was suspected of loving with too fond a passion. I shall be scarcely permitted to accuse the ambition of a conqueror; but in a day of equal retribution, the sons of his brother Carloman, the Merovingian princes of Aquitain, and the four thousand five hundred Saxons who were beheaded on the same spot, would have something to allege against the justice and humanity of Charlemagne. His treatment of the vanquished Saxons was an abuse of the right of conquest; his laws were not less sanguinary than his arms, and in the discussion of his motives, whatever is subtracted from bigotry must be imputed to temper. The sedentary reader is amazed by his incessant activity of mind and body; and his subjects and enemies were not less astonished at his sudden presence, at the moment when they believed him at the most distant extremity of the empire; neither peace nor war, nor summer nor winter, were a season of repose; and our fancy cannot easily reconcile the annals of his reign with the geography of his expeditions. But this activity was a national, rather than a personal, virtue; the vagrant life of a Frank was spent in the chase, in pilgrimage, in military adventures; and the journeys of Charlemagne were distinguished only by a more numerous train and a more important purpose. His military renown must be tried by the scrutiny of his troops, his enemies, and his actions. Alexander conquered with the arms of Philip, but the two heroes who preceded Charlemagne bequeathed him their name, their examples, and the companions of their victories. At the head of his veteran and superior armies, he oppressed the savage or degenerate nations, who were incapable of confederating for their common safety: nor did he ever encounter an equal antagonist in numbers, in discipline, or in arms The science of war has been lost and revived with the arts of peace; but his campaigns are not illustrated by any siege or battle of singular difficulty and success; and he might behold, with envy, the Saracen trophies of his grandfather. After the Spanish expedition, his rear-guard was defeated in the Pyrenæan mountains; and the soldiers, whose situation was irretrievable, and whose valor was useless, might accuse, with their last breath, the want of skill or caution of their general. I touch with reverence the laws of Charlemagne, so highly applauded by a respectable judge. They compose not a system, but a series, of occasional and minute edicts, for the correction of abuses, the reformation of manners, the economy of his farms, the care of his poultry, and even the sale of his eggs. He wished to improve the laws and the character of the Franks; and his attempts, however feeble and imperfect, are deserving of praise: the inveterate evils of the times were suspended or mollified by his government; but in his institutions I can seldom discover the general views and the immortal spirit of a legislator, who survives himself for the benefit of posterity. The union and stability of his empire depended on the life of a single man: he imitated the dangerous practice of dividing his kingdoms among his sons; and after his numerous diets, the whole constitution was left to fluctuate between the disorders of anarchy and despotism. His esteem for the piety and knowledge of the clergy tempted him to intrust that aspiring order with temporal dominion and civil jurisdiction; and his son Lewis, when he was stripped and degraded by the bishops, might accuse, in some measure, the imprudence of his father. His laws enforced the imposition of tithes, because the dæmons had proclaimed in the air that the default of payment had been the cause of the last scarcity. The literary merits of Charlemagne are attested by the foundation of schools, the introduction of arts, the works which were published in his name, and his familiar connection with the subjects and strangers whom he invited to his court to educate both the prince and people. His own studies were tardy, laborious, and imperfect; if he spoke Latin, and understood Greek, he derived the rudiments of knowledge from conversation, rather than from books; and, in his mature age, the emperor strove to acquire the practice of writing, which every peasant now learns in his infancy. The grammar and logic, the music and astronomy, of the times, were only cultivated as the handmaids of superstition; but the curiosity of the human mind must ultimately tend to its improvement, and the encouragement of learning reflects the purest and most pleasing lustre on the character of Charlemagne. The dignity of his person, the length of his reign, the prosperity of his arms, the vigor of his government, and the reverence of distant nations, distinguish him from the royal crowd; and Europe dates a new æra from his restoration of the Western empire.

The title of great has often been given, and sometimes it’s deserved; but Charlemagne is the only leader who has that title permanently linked with his name. That name, with the addition of saint, is listed in the Roman calendar; and this saint, with rare fortune, is praised by the historians and philosophers of an enlightened era. His real merit is certainly amplified by the barbarism of the nation and the times he came from: but the apparent size of something is also magnified by unfair comparison; and the ruins of Palmyra gain a bit of luster from the emptiness of the surrounding desert. Without doing injustice to his reputation, I can see some flaws in the sanctity and greatness of the restorer of the Western empire. Among his moral virtues, chastity is not the most notable: however, public happiness wasn’t significantly harmed by his nine wives or concubines, his various indulgences in lesser or more fleeting loves, the many bastards he placed in the church, and the long periods of celibacy and loose behavior of his daughters, whom he was suspected of loving a bit too passionately. I might barely be able to criticize the ambition of a conqueror; but in a day of equal justice, the sons of his brother Carloman, the Merovingian princes of Aquitaine, and the four thousand five hundred Saxons who were beheaded in the same place would have something to say about the justice and humanity of Charlemagne. His treatment of the defeated Saxons was an abuse of the right of conquest; his laws were just as bloody as his military actions, and in evaluating his motives, whatever is taken away from bigotry must be attributed to temperament. The casual reader is amazed by his relentless activity of mind and body; and his subjects and enemies were equally stunned by his sudden appearances when they thought he was at the farthest edge of the empire; neither peace nor war, nor summer nor winter, were a time of rest; and it’s hard for us to match the accounts of his reign with the geography of his campaigns. But this activity was more of a national virtue than a personal one; the wandering life of a Frank was spent hunting, on pilgrimages, and in military exploits; and Charlemagne's journeys were marked only by a larger entourage and a more significant purpose. His military fame should be measured by the opinions of his troops, his enemies, and his actions. Alexander conquered with Philip's armies, but the two heroes before Charlemagne passed down their name, their examples, and the companions of their victories. Leading his veteran and superior armies, he subdued the savage or degenerate nations that were unable to unite for their own safety: he never faced an equal opponent in numbers, discipline, or weaponry. The art of war has been lost and regained alongside the arts of peace; but his military campaigns aren't highlighted by any particularly difficult or successful siege or battle; and he might envy the Saracen trophies of his grandfather. After his campaign in Spain, his rear guard was defeated in the Pyrenees; and the soldiers, whose situation was hopeless and whose bravery was in vain, might blame, with their last breaths, their general’s lack of skill or caution. I approach the laws of Charlemagne with respect, which are highly praised by a reliable judge. They consist not of a system, but a series of occasional and detailed edicts aimed at correcting abuses, improving manners, managing his farms, taking care of his poultry, and even selling his eggs. He aimed to enhance the laws and character of the Franks; and his attempts, though feeble and imperfect, deserve commendation: the deep-rooted problems of the times were eased or lessened by his rule; but in his institutions, I can hardly find the broad vision and lasting spirit of a legislator, who endures for the benefit of future generations. The unity and stability of his empire relied on one man's life: he mimicked the risky practice of dividing his kingdoms among his sons; and after his numerous assemblies, the entire structure was left to fluctuate between the chaos of anarchy and the oppression of despotism. His respect for the piety and knowledge of the clergy led him to entrust that ambitious class with temporal power and civil authority; and his son Louis, when he was stripped and humiliated by the bishops, could, to some extent, blame his father's rashness. His laws mandated the payment of tithes because demons supposedly declared in the air that failing to pay had caused the last famine. The literary contributions of Charlemagne are confirmed by the establishment of schools, the introduction of arts, the works published in his name, and his close interactions with subjects and foreigners he invited to his court to educate both the prince and the people. His own studies were slow, laborious, and incomplete; if he spoke Latin and understood Greek, he learned the basics through conversation rather than books; and, in his later years, the emperor tried to learn how to write, which every farmer now picks up in childhood. The grammar and logic, music and astronomy of the time were only pursued as handmaidens of superstition; yet the curiosity of the human mind ultimately aims at progress, and the encouragement of learning casts the brightest and most delightful glow on Charlemagne's character. The dignity of his person, the length of his reign, the success of his military campaigns, the vigor of his government, and the respect of distant nations set him apart from other royals; and Europe marks a new era from his restoration of the Western empire.

That empire was not unworthy of its title; and some of the fairest kingdoms of Europe were the patrimony or conquest of a prince, who reigned at the same time in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Hungary. I. The Roman province of Gaul had been transformed into the name and monarchy of France; but, in the decay of the Merovingian line, its limits were contracted by the independence of the Britons and the revolt of Aquitain. Charlemagne pursued, and confined, the Britons on the shores of the ocean; and that ferocious tribe, whose origin and language are so different from the French, was chastised by the imposition of tribute, hostages, and peace. After a long and evasive contest, the rebellion of the dukes of Aquitain was punished by the forfeiture of their province, their liberty, and their lives. Harsh and rigorous would have been such treatment of ambitious governors, who had too faithfully copied the mayors of the palace. But a recent discovery has proved that these unhappy princes were the last and lawful heirs of the blood and sceptre of Clovis, and younger branch, from the brother of Dagobert, of the Merovingian house. Their ancient kingdom was reduced to the duchy of Gascogne, to the counties of Fesenzac and Armagnac, at the foot of the Pyrenees: their race was propagated till the beginning of the sixteenth century; and after surviving their Carlovingian tyrants, they were reserved to feel the injustice, or the favors, of a third dynasty. By the reunion of Aquitain, France was enlarged to its present boundaries, with the additions of the Netherlands and Spain, as far as the Rhine. II. The Saracens had been expelled from France by the grandfather and father of Charlemagne; but they still possessed the greatest part of Spain, from the rock of Gibraltar to the Pyrenees. Amidst their civil divisions, an Arabian emir of Saragossa implored his protection in the diet of Paderborn. Charlemagne undertook the expedition, restored the emir, and, without distinction of faith, impartially crushed the resistance of the Christians, and rewarded the obedience and services of the Mahometans. In his absence he instituted the Spanish march, which extended from the Pyrenees to the River Ebro: Barcelona was the residence of the French governor: he possessed the counties of Rousillon and Catalonia; and the infant kingdoms of Navarre and Arragon were subject to his jurisdiction. III. As king of the Lombards, and patrician of Rome, he reigned over the greatest part of Italy, a tract of a thousand miles from the Alps to the borders of Calabria. The duchy of Beneventum, a Lombard fief, had spread, at the expense of the Greeks, over the modern kingdom of Naples. But Arrechis, the reigning duke, refused to be included in the slavery of his country; assumed the independent title of prince; and opposed his sword to the Carlovingian monarchy. His defence was firm, his submission was not inglorious, and the emperor was content with an easy tribute, the demolition of his fortresses, and the acknowledgment, on his coins, of a supreme lord. The artful flattery of his son Grimoald added the appellation of father, but he asserted his dignity with prudence, and Benventum insensibly escaped from the French yoke. IV. Charlemagne was the first who united Germany under the same sceptre. The name of Oriental France is preserved in the circle of Franconia; and the people of Hesse and Thuringia were recently incorporated with the victors, by the conformity of religion and government. The Alemanni, so formidable to the Romans, were the faithful vassals and confederates of the Franks; and their country was inscribed within the modern limits of Alsace, Swabia, and Switzerland. The Bavarians, with a similar indulgence of their laws and manners, were less patient of a master: the repeated treasons of Tasillo justified the abolition of their hereditary dukes; and their power was shared among the counts, who judged and guarded that important frontier. But the north of Germany, from the Rhine and beyond the Elbe, was still hostile and Pagan; nor was it till after a war of thirty-three years that the Saxons bowed under the yoke of Christ and of Charlemagne. The idols and their votaries were extirpated: the foundation of eight bishoprics, of Munster, Osnaburgh, Paderborn, and Minden, of Bremen, Verden, Hildesheim, and Halberstadt, define, on either side of the Weser, the bounds of ancient Saxony these episcopal seats were the first schools and cities of that savage land; and the religion and humanity of the children atoned, in some degree, for the massacre of the parents. Beyond the Elbe, the Slavi, or Sclavonians, of similar manners and various denominations, overspread the modern dominions of Prussia, Poland, and Bohemia, and some transient marks of obedience have tempted the French historian to extend the empire to the Baltic and the Vistula. The conquest or conversion of those countries is of a more recent age; but the first union of Bohemia with the Germanic body may be justly ascribed to the arms of Charlemagne. V. He retaliated on the Avars, or Huns of Pannonia, the same calamities which they had inflicted on the nations. Their rings, the wooden fortifications which encircled their districts and villages, were broken down by the triple effort of a French army, that was poured into their country by land and water, through the Carpathian mountains and along the plain of the Danube. After a bloody conflict of eight years, the loss of some French generals was avenged by the slaughter of the most noble Huns: the relics of the nation submitted the royal residence of the chagan was left desolate and unknown; and the treasures, the rapine of two hundred and fifty years, enriched the victorious troops, or decorated the churches of Italy and Gaul. After the reduction of Pannonia, the empire of Charlemagne was bounded only by the conflux of the Danube with the Teyss and the Save: the provinces of Istria, Liburnia, and Dalmatia, were an easy, though unprofitable, accession; and it was an effect of his moderation, that he left the maritime cities under the real or nominal sovereignty of the Greeks. But these distant possessions added more to the reputation than to the power of the Latin emperor; nor did he risk any ecclesiastical foundations to reclaim the Barbarians from their vagrant life and idolatrous worship. Some canals of communication between the rivers, the Saone and the Meuse, the Rhine and the Danube, were faintly attempted. Their execution would have vivified the empire; and more cost and labor were often wasted in the structure of a cathedral.

That empire was truly worthy of its title; some of the finest kingdoms in Europe were the inheritance or conquest of a prince who ruled at the same time in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Hungary. I. The Roman province of Gaul had been transformed into the name and monarchy of France; however, as the Merovingian line declined, its boundaries were reduced by the independence of the Britons and the revolt of Aquitain. Charlemagne pursued and confined the Britons to the shores of the ocean; this fierce tribe, whose origins and language differ significantly from the French, was subdued through the imposition of tribute, hostages, and peace. After a long and drawn-out struggle, the rebellion of the dukes of Aquitain was punished with the loss of their province, their freedom, and their lives. Such treatment of ambitious leaders, who had too closely imitated the mayors of the palace, would have been harsh and severe. However, a recent discovery has shown that these unfortunate princes were the last and rightful heirs of the blood and rule of Clovis, a younger branch from the brother of Dagobert of the Merovingian house. Their ancient kingdom was reduced to the duchy of Gascogne and the counties of Fesenzac and Armagnac, at the foot of the Pyrenees; their lineage continued until the early sixteenth century, and after surviving their Carlovingian oppressors, they were left to experience the injustices or benevolences of a third dynasty. With the annexation of Aquitain, France was expanded to its current borders, including parts of the Netherlands and Spain up to the Rhine. II. The Saracens had been expelled from France by Charlemagne's grandfather and father; however, they still controlled most of Spain, from the rock of Gibraltar to the Pyrenees. Amid their internal conflicts, an Arabian emir from Saragossa sought protection at the diet of Paderborn. Charlemagne launched an expedition, restored the emir, and, without discrimination of faith, decisively crushed the resistance of the Christians while rewarding the loyalty and service of the Muslims. In his absence, he established the Spanish march, stretching from the Pyrenees to the River Ebro: Barcelona became the residence of the French governor, who held the counties of Rousillon and Catalonia; the young kingdoms of Navarre and Arragon were under his authority. III. As king of the Lombards and patrician of Rome, he ruled over most of Italy, a stretch of a thousand miles from the Alps to the borders of Calabria. The duchy of Beneventum, a Lombard fief, expanded at the expense of the Greeks into what is now the kingdom of Naples. However, Arrechis, the reigning duke, refused to be included in the subjugation of his land; he took the independent title of prince and challenged the Carlovingian monarchy with his sword. His defense was strong, and his submission was not disgraceful, leading the emperor to be satisfied with a light tribute, the dismantling of his fortifications, and the acknowledgment of a supreme lord on his coins. The clever flattery of his son Grimoald added the title of father, but he maintained his dignity wisely, and Beneventum gradually slipped from French control. IV. Charlemagne was the first to unite Germany under one sovereignty. The name of Oriental France remains in the circle of Franconia; the people of Hesse and Thuringia were recently integrated with the victors through common religion and governance. The Alemanni, once feared by the Romans, became loyal vassals and allies of the Franks, and their lands are now part of modern Alsace, Swabia, and Switzerland. The Bavarians, enjoying a similar freedom in their customs and laws, were less tolerant of authority: the repeated betrayals of Tasillo justified the abolition of their hereditary dukes, and control shifted to the counts, who governed that vital border. However, the north of Germany, from the Rhine to beyond the Elbe, remained hostile and pagan; it wasn’t until a thirty-three-year war that the Saxons finally accepted the Christian faith and the rule of Charlemagne. Their idols and worshipers were eradicated: the establishment of eight bishoprics—Munster, Osnaburgh, Paderborn, Minden, Bremen, Verden, Hildesheim, and Halberstadt—marked the borders of ancient Saxony along the Weser; these episcopal seats became the first schools and towns in that wild region, and the compassion of their children somewhat compensated for the massacre of their parents. Beyond the Elbe, the Slavi, or Slavs, with similar customs and varying names, spread across the present territories of Prussia, Poland, and Bohemia, and fleeting signs of obedience have tempted French historians to extend the empire as far as the Baltic and the Vistula. The conquest or conversion of those lands occurred much later, but the initial unification of Bohemia with the Germanic empire can justly be attributed to Charlemagne's military efforts. V. He retaliated against the Avars, or Huns of Pannonia, inflicting the same disasters they had caused to other nations. Their wooden rings, the fortifications enclosing their territories and villages, were destroyed by the coordinated attacks of a French army that advanced into their lands from both land and water, navigating through the Carpathian mountains and along the banks of the Danube. After a bloody eight-year conflict, the deaths of some French generals were avenged by the slaughter of many noble Huns: what remained of the nation surrendered, their royal residence of the chagan was left desolate and forgotten, and the treasures amassed over two hundred and fifty years enriched the victorious armies or adorned the churches of Italy and Gaul. Following the conquest of Pannonia, Charlemagne's empire was only limited by the confluence of the Danube with the Teya and the Save: the provinces of Istria, Liburnia, and Dalmatia were easy but not particularly valuable additions, and it was due to his restraint that he left the coastal cities under the actual or nominal rule of the Greeks. However, these distant territories enhanced the reputation rather than the power of the Latin emperor; nor did he risk establishing any ecclesiastical institutions to convert the barbarians from their wandering lifestyles and pagan worship. A few canals were attempted to connect the rivers, the Saone and the Meuse, the Rhine and the Danube; their completion would have revitalized the empire, yet more resources and effort were often wasted on constructing cathedrals.





Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part V.

If we retrace the outlines of this geographical picture, it will be seen that the empire of the Franks extended, between east and west, from the Ebro to the Elbe or Vistula; between the north and south, from the duchy of Beneventum to the River Eyder, the perpetual boundary of Germany and Denmark. The personal and political importance of Charlemagne was magnified by the distress and division of the rest of Europe. The islands of Great Britain and Ireland were disputed by a crowd of princes of Saxon or Scottish origin: and, after the loss of Spain, the Christian and Gothic kingdom of Alphonso the Chaste was confined to the narrow range of the Asturian mountains. These petty sovereigns revered the power or virtue of the Carlovingian monarch, implored the honor and support of his alliance, and styled him their common parent, the sole and supreme emperor of the West. He maintained a more equal intercourse with the caliph Harun al Rashid, whose dominion stretched from Africa to India, and accepted from his ambassadors a tent, a water-clock, an elephant, and the keys of the Holy Sepulchre. It is not easy to conceive the private friendship of a Frank and an Arab, who were strangers to each other's person, and language, and religion: but their public correspondence was founded on vanity, and their remote situation left no room for a competition of interest. Two thirds of the Western empire of Rome were subject to Charlemagne, and the deficiency was amply supplied by his command of the inaccessible or invincible nations of Germany. But in the choice of his enemies, we may be reasonably surprised that he so often preferred the poverty of the north to the riches of the south. The three-and-thirty campaigns laboriously consumed in the woods and morasses of Germany would have sufficed to assert the amplitude of his title by the expulsion of the Greeks from Italy and the Saracens from Spain. The weakness of the Greeks would have insured an easy victory; and the holy crusade against the Saracens would have been prompted by glory and revenge, and loudly justified by religion and policy. Perhaps, in his expeditions beyond the Rhine and the Elbe, he aspired to save his monarchy from the fate of the Roman empire, to disarm the enemies of civilized society, and to eradicate the seed of future emigrations. But it has been wisely observed, that, in a light of precaution, all conquest must be ineffectual, unless it could be universal, since the increasing circle must be involved in a larger sphere of hostility. The subjugation of Germany withdrew the veil which had so long concealed the continent or islands of Scandinavia from the knowledge of Europe, and awakened the torpid courage of their barbarous natives. The fiercest of the Saxon idolaters escaped from the Christian tyrant to their brethren of the North; the Ocean and Mediterranean were covered with their piratical fleets; and Charlemagne beheld with a sigh the destructive progress of the Normans, who, in less than seventy years, precipitated the fall of his race and monarchy.

If we trace the borders of this geographical picture, we can see that the Frankish empire stretched, east to west, from the Ebro to the Elbe or Vistula; and north to south, from the duchy of Beneventum to the River Eyder, the constant boundary between Germany and Denmark. Charlemagne’s personal and political significance was amplified by the turmoil and fragmentation of the rest of Europe. The islands of Great Britain and Ireland were contested by a number of princes of Saxon or Scottish descent, and after losing Spain, the Christian and Gothic kingdom of Alphonso the Chaste was limited to the narrow range of the Asturian mountains. These minor rulers admired the power or virtue of the Carolingian monarch, sought the honor and support of his alliance, and referred to him as their common father, the one and only emperor of the West. He maintained a more equal relationship with the caliph Harun al Rashid, whose territory spanned from Africa to India, and accepted from his ambassadors a tent, a water clock, an elephant, and the keys to the Holy Sepulchre. It’s hard to imagine the personal friendship between a Frank and an Arab, who were strangers to each other’s appearance, language, and religion; however, their public correspondence was based on vanity, and their distant locations left no room for competing interests. Two-thirds of the Western Roman Empire were under Charlemagne's rule, and the gap was effectively filled by his control over the remote or unyielding nations of Germany. But it’s surprising that, when choosing his enemies, he often preferred the impoverished north over the wealthy south. The thirty-three campaigns he spent laboriously in the forests and swamps of Germany would have been enough to secure his claim by driving the Greeks out of Italy and the Saracens out of Spain. The weakness of the Greeks would have guaranteed an easy victory; and the holy crusade against the Saracens would have been fueled by glory and revenge and justified by both religion and politics. Perhaps in his campaigns beyond the Rhine and the Elbe, he aimed to save his empire from the same fate as the Roman Empire, to disarm the enemies of civilized society, and to eliminate the roots of future migrations. However, it has been wisely noted that, as a precaution, all conquests must be universal to be effective, since the expanding territory would be drawn into a larger sphere of hostility. The subjugation of Germany lifted the veil that had long hidden the continent or islands of Scandinavia from Europe’s awareness and stirred the dormant courage of their barbaric inhabitants. The fiercest of the Saxon idolaters fled from the Christian tyrant to their kin in the North; the Ocean and Mediterranean swelled with their pirate fleets; and Charlemagne watched with a sigh as the destructive advance of the Normans, who, in less than seventy years, led to the downfall of his lineage and monarchy.

Had the pope and the Romans revived the primitive constitution, the titles of emperor and Augustus were conferred on Charlemagne for the term of his life; and his successors, on each vacancy, must have ascended the throne by a formal or tacit election. But the association of his son Lewis the Pious asserts the independent right of monarchy and conquest, and the emperor seems on this occasion to have foreseen and prevented the latent claims of the clergy. The royal youth was commanded to take the crown from the altar, and with his own hands to place it on his head, as a gift which he held from God, his father, and the nation. The same ceremony was repeated, though with less energy, in the subsequent associations of Lothaire and Lewis the Second: the Carlovingian sceptre was transmitted from father to son in a lineal descent of four generations; and the ambition of the popes was reduced to the empty honor of crowning and anointing these hereditary princes, who were already invested with their power and dominions. The pious Lewis survived his brothers, and embraced the whole empire of Charlemagne; but the nations and the nobles, his bishops and his children, quickly discerned that this mighty mass was no longer inspired by the same soul; and the foundations were undermined to the centre, while the external surface was yet fair and entire. After a war, or battle, which consumed one hundred thousand Franks, the empire was divided by treaty between his three sons, who had violated every filial and fraternal duty. The kingdoms of Germany and France were forever separated; the provinces of Gaul, between the Rhone and the Alps, the Meuse and the Rhine, were assigned, with Italy, to the Imperial dignity of Lothaire. In the partition of his share, Lorraine and Arles, two recent and transitory kingdoms, were bestowed on the younger children; and Lewis the Second, his eldest son, was content with the realm of Italy, the proper and sufficient patrimony of a Roman emperor. On his death without any male issue, the vacant throne was disputed by his uncles and cousins, and the popes most dexterously seized the occasion of judging the claims and merits of the candidates, and of bestowing on the most obsequious, or most liberal, the Imperial office of advocate of the Roman church. The dregs of the Carlovingian race no longer exhibited any symptoms of virtue or power, and the ridiculous epithets of the bard, the stammerer, the fat, and the simple, distinguished the tame and uniform features of a crowd of kings alike deserving of oblivion. By the failure of the collateral branches, the whole inheritance devolved to Charles the Fat, the last emperor of his family: his insanity authorized the desertion of Germany, Italy, and France: he was deposed in a diet, and solicited his daily bread from the rebels by whose contempt his life and liberty had been spared. According to the measure of their force, the governors, the bishops, and the lords, usurped the fragments of the falling empire; and some preference was shown to the female or illegitimate blood of Charlemagne. Of the greater part, the title and possession were alike doubtful, and the merit was adequate to the contracted scale of their dominions. Those who could appear with an army at the gates of Rome were crowned emperors in the Vatican; but their modesty was more frequently satisfied with the appellation of kings of Italy: and the whole term of seventy-four years may be deemed a vacancy, from the abdication of Charles the Fat to the establishment of Otho the First.

If the pope and the Romans had revived the old constitution, the titles of emperor and Augustus would have been given to Charlemagne for the rest of his life; and his successors would have had to ascend the throne through either a formal or informal election each time there was a vacancy. However, the partnership with his son Lewis the Pious asserted the independent right of kingship and conquest, and on this occasion, the emperor seemed to foresee and prevent the hidden claims of the clergy. The young king was instructed to take the crown from the altar and put it on his head himself, as a gift from God, his father, and the nation. The same ceremony happened again, though with less vigor, during the later coronations of Lothaire and Lewis the Second: the Carolingian scepter passed down from father to son for four generations; and the popes' ambition was reduced to the hollow honor of crowning and anointing these hereditary princes, who already wielded their power and lands. Pious Lewis outlived his brothers and took control of Charlemagne's entire empire; however, the nations and nobles, as well as his bishops and children, quickly realized that this vast entity no longer had a unified spirit; its foundations were eroded at the core, even while its outer appearance remained intact. After a war that claimed the lives of one hundred thousand Franks, the empire was divided by treaty among his three sons, who had disregarded every duty to their father and each other. The kingdoms of Germany and France were permanently separated; the regions of Gaul between the Rhone and the Alps, the Meuse and the Rhine, along with Italy, were allocated to Lothaire's Imperial dignity. In dividing his portion, Lorraine and Arles, two recent and transient kingdoms, were given to the younger sons, while Lewis the Second, the eldest, was satisfied with the realm of Italy, the rightful land of a Roman emperor. Upon his death without male heirs, his uncles and cousins contested the vacant throne, and the popes cleverly seized the opportunity to evaluate the claims and merits of the candidates, granting the Imperial title of advocate of the Roman church to the most obedient or generous among them. The remaining members of the Carolingian bloodline no longer showed any signs of virtue or power, and the ridiculous nicknames of the Bard, the Stammerer, the Fat, and the Simple, characterized the unremarkable and homogenous features of a group of kings all deserving of being forgotten. With the collateral branches failing, the entire inheritance fell to Charles the Fat, the last emperor of his family: his madness led to the abandonment of Germany, Italy, and France; he was ousted in a diet and had to beg for his daily sustenance from the rebels who had spared his life and freedom out of contempt. According to their power, the governors, bishops, and lords seized the remnants of the crumbling empire; some even favored the female or illegitimate descendants of Charlemagne. For the most part, both the title and possession were questionable, and the merit matched the limited scope of their territories. Those able to show up with an army at the gates of Rome were crowned emperors in the Vatican; however, they were more often content with the title of kings of Italy: and the total span of seventy-four years can be considered a vacancy, from the abdication of Charles the Fat to the ascent of Otho the First.

Otho was of the noble race of the dukes of Saxony; and if he truly descended from Witikind, the adversary and proselyte of Charlemagne, the posterity of a vanquished people was exalted to reign over their conquerors. His father, Henry the Fowler, was elected, by the suffrage of the nation, to save and institute the kingdom of Germany. Its limits were enlarged on every side by his son, the first and greatest of the Othos. A portion of Gaul, to the west of the Rhine, along the banks of the Meuse and the Moselle, was assigned to the Germans, by whose blood and language it has been tinged since the time of Cæsar and Tacitus. Between the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Alps, the successors of Otho acquired a vain supremacy over the broken kingdoms of Burgundy and Arles. In the North, Christianity was propagated by the sword of Otho, the conqueror and apostle of the Slavic nations of the Elbe and Oder: the marches of Brandenburgh and Sleswick were fortified with German colonies; and the king of Denmark, the dukes of Poland and Bohemia, confessed themselves his tributary vassals. At the head of a victorious army, he passed the Alps, subdued the kingdom of Italy, delivered the pope, and forever fixed the Imperial crown in the name and nation of Germany. From that memorable æra, two maxims of public jurisprudence were introduced by force and ratified by time. I. That the prince, who was elected in the German diet, acquired, from that instant, the subject kingdoms of Italy and Rome. II. But that he might not legally assume the titles of emperor and Augustus, till he had received the crown from the hands of the Roman pontiff.

Otho came from the noble lineage of the dukes of Saxony; and if he really descended from Witikind, the enemy and convert of Charlemagne, then the descendants of a defeated people were raised to rule over their conquerors. His father, Henry the Fowler, was chosen by the people's vote to establish and safeguard the kingdom of Germany. His son, the first and greatest of the Othos, expanded its borders in all directions. A section of Gaul, west of the Rhine, along the rivers Meuse and Moselle, was granted to the Germans, whose blood and language have influenced the region since the time of Caesar and Tacitus. Between the Rhine, the Rhône, and the Alps, Otho’s successors held a superficial dominance over the fractured kingdoms of Burgundy and Arles. In the North, Christianity was spread by the sword of Otho, the conqueror and missionary to the Slavic nations of the Elbe and Oder: the regions of Brandenburg and Schleswig were fortified with German settlers; and the king of Denmark, along with the dukes of Poland and Bohemia, acknowledged themselves as his vassals. Leading a victorious army, he crossed the Alps, conquered the kingdom of Italy, rescued the pope, and secured the Imperial crown permanently for Germany. From that significant era, two principles of public law were enforced and validated over time. I. That the prince, elected in the German assembly, gained, from that moment, control of the subject kingdoms of Italy and Rome. II. However, he could not legally take the titles of emperor and Augustus until he received the crown from the Roman pontiff.

The Imperial dignity of Charlemagne was announced to the East by the alteration of his style; and instead of saluting his fathers, the Greek emperors, he presumed to adopt the more equal and familiar appellation of brother. Perhaps in his connection with Irene he aspired to the name of husband: his embassy to Constantinople spoke the language of peace and friendship, and might conceal a treaty of marriage with that ambitious princess, who had renounced the most sacred duties of a mother. The nature, the duration, the probable consequences of such a union between two distant and dissonant empires, it is impossible to conjecture; but the unanimous silence of the Latins may teach us to suspect, that the report was invented by the enemies of Irene, to charge her with the guilt of betraying the church and state to the strangers of the West. The French ambassadors were the spectators, and had nearly been the victims, of the conspiracy of Nicephorus, and the national hatred. Constantinople was exasperated by the treason and sacrilege of ancient Rome: a proverb, "That the Franks were good friends and bad neighbors," was in every one's mouth; but it was dangerous to provoke a neighbor who might be tempted to reiterate, in the church of St. Sophia, the ceremony of his Imperial coronation. After a tedious journey of circuit and delay, the ambassadors of Nicephorus found him in his camp, on the banks of the River Sala; and Charlemagne affected to confound their vanity by displaying, in a Franconian village, the pomp, or at least the pride, of the Byzantine palace. The Greeks were successively led through four halls of audience: in the first they were ready to fall prostrate before a splendid personage in a chair of state, till he informed them that he was only a servant, the constable, or master of the horse, of the emperor. The same mistake, and the same answer, were repeated in the apartments of the count palatine, the steward, and the chamberlain; and their impatience was gradually heightened, till the doors of the presence-chamber were thrown open, and they beheld the genuine monarch, on his throne, enriched with the foreign luxury which he despised, and encircled with the love and reverence of his victorious chiefs. A treaty of peace and alliance was concluded between the two empires, and the limits of the East and West were defined by the right of present possession. But the Greeks soon forgot this humiliating equality, or remembered it only to hate the Barbarians by whom it was extorted. During the short union of virtue and power, they respectfully saluted the august Charlemagne, with the acclamations of basileus, and emperor of the Romans. As soon as these qualities were separated in the person of his pious son, the Byzantine letters were inscribed, "To the king, or, as he styles himself, the emperor of the Franks and Lombards." When both power and virtue were extinct, they despoiled Lewis the Second of his hereditary title, and with the barbarous appellation of rex or rega, degraded him among the crowd of Latin princes. His reply is expressive of his weakness: he proves, with some learning, that, both in sacred and profane history, the name of king is synonymous with the Greek word basileus: if, at Constantinople, it were assumed in a more exclusive and imperial sense, he claims from his ancestors, and from the popes, a just participation of the honors of the Roman purple. The same controversy was revived in the reign of the Othos; and their ambassador describes, in lively colors, the insolence of the Byzantine court. The Greeks affected to despise the poverty and ignorance of the Franks and Saxons; and in their last decline refused to prostitute to the kings of Germany the title of Roman emperors.

The imperial status of Charlemagne was made known to the East by changing how he addressed himself; rather than greeting his predecessors, the Greek emperors, he boldly chose to call them brothers. Perhaps through his relationship with Irene, he even hoped to be seen as her husband: his mission to Constantinople promoted peace and friendship and might have hidden a possible marriage agreement with that ambitious princess, who had forsaken her most sacred duties as a mother. The nature, duration, and potential outcomes of such a union between two far-flung and conflicting empires are impossible to predict; however, the collective silence of the Latins suggests that such rumors were likely started by Irene's enemies to accuse her of betraying both church and state to the outsiders from the West. The French diplomats were both witnesses to and nearly victims of Nicephorus's conspiracy and the national resentment. Constantinople fumed over the treason and sacrilege of ancient Rome: a saying, "The Franks are good friends but bad neighbors," was on everyone's lips; yet it was risky to provoke a neighbor who might feel inclined to repeat the ceremony of his imperial coronation in the Church of St. Sophia. After a long and complicated journey, Nicephorus's ambassadors found him in his camp by the River Sala; Charlemagne aimed to humble their arrogance by showcasing, in a Franconian village, the splendor, or at least the pride, of the Byzantine court. The Greeks were led through four audience halls: in the first, they were ready to bow before a grand figure seated on a throne, until he revealed that he was just a servant, the constable or master of the horse for the emperor. This same misunderstanding and reply occurred again in the quarters of the count palatine, the steward, and the chamberlain; their impatience grew until the doors to the presence chamber opened, revealing the true monarch on his throne, adorned with the foreign luxuries he disdained and surrounded by the affection and respect of his victorious leaders. A peace and alliance treaty was struck between the two empires, establishing the boundaries of East and West based on current holdings. But the Greeks quickly forgot this embarrassing equality or remembered it only to resent the Barbarians who had forced it upon them. During the brief period of virtue and power, they respectfully greeted the august Charlemagne with cheers of basileus and emperor of the Romans. Once these qualities were separated with the ascension of his pious son, the Byzantine records referred to him as "the king, or as he calls himself, the emperor of the Franks and Lombards." When both power and virtue faded, they stripped Louis the Second of his hereditary title and, with the crude term rex or rega, belittled him among the ranks of Latin princes. His response reflected his vulnerability: he argued, citing some historical learning, that in both sacred and secular history, the term king is synonymous with the Greek word basileus; if used in a more exclusive and imperial context in Constantinople, he claimed from his ancestors and the popes a rightful share of the honors of the Roman purple. The same debate resurfaced during the reign of the Othos; and their ambassador vividly illustrated the arrogance of the Byzantine court. The Greeks pretended to disdain the poverty and ignorance of the Franks and Saxons; and in their decline, they refused to grant the title of Roman emperors to the kings of Germany.

These emperors, in the election of the popes, continued to exercise the powers which had been assumed by the Gothic and Grecian princes; and the importance of this prerogative increased with the temporal estate and spiritual jurisdiction of the Roman church. In the Christian aristocracy, the principal members of the clergy still formed a senate to assist the administration, and to supply the vacancy, of the bishop. Rome was divided into twenty-eight parishes, and each parish was governed by a cardinal priest, or presbyter, a title which, however common or modest in its origin, has aspired to emulate the purple of kings. Their number was enlarged by the association of the seven deacons of the most considerable hospitals, the seven palatine judges of the Lateran, and some dignitaries of the church. This ecclesiastical senate was directed by the seven cardinal-bishops of the Roman province, who were less occupied in the suburb dioceses of Ostia, Porto, Velitræ, Tusculum, Præneste, Tibur, and the Sabines, than by their weekly service in the Lateran, and their superior share in the honors and authority of the apostolic see. On the death of the pope, these bishops recommended a successor to the suffrage of the college of cardinals, and their choice was ratified or rejected by the applause or clamor of the Roman people. But the election was imperfect; nor could the pontiff be legally consecrated till the emperor, the advocate of the church, had graciously signified his approbation and consent. The royal commissioner examined, on the spot, the form and freedom of the proceedings; nor was it till after a previous scrutiny into the qualifications of the candidates, that he accepted an oath of fidelity, and confirmed the donations which had successively enriched the patrimony of St. Peter. In the frequent schisms, the rival claims were submitted to the sentence of the emperor; and in a synod of bishops he presumed to judge, to condemn, and to punish, the crimes of a guilty pontiff. Otho the First imposed a treaty on the senate and people, who engaged to prefer the candidate most acceptable to his majesty: his successors anticipated or prevented their choice: they bestowed the Roman benefice, like the bishoprics of Cologne or Bamberg, on their chancellors or preceptors; and whatever might be the merit of a Frank or Saxon, his name sufficiently attests the interposition of foreign power. These acts of prerogative were most speciously excused by the vices of a popular election. The competitor who had been excluded by the cardinals appealed to the passions or avarice of the multitude; the Vatican and the Lateran were stained with blood; and the most powerful senators, the marquises of Tuscany and the counts of Tusculum, held the apostolic see in a long and disgraceful servitude. The Roman pontiffs, of the ninth and tenth centuries, were insulted, imprisoned, and murdered, by their tyrants; and such was their indigence, after the loss and usurpation of the ecclesiastical patrimonies, that they could neither support the state of a prince, nor exercise the charity of a priest. The influence of two sister prostitutes, Marozia and Theodora, was founded on their wealth and beauty, their political and amorous intrigues: the most strenuous of their lovers were rewarded with the Roman mitre, and their reign may have suggested to the darker ages the fable of a female pope. The bastard son, the grandson, and the great-grandson of Marozia, a rare genealogy, were seated in the chair of St. Peter, and it was at the age of nineteen years that the second of these became the head of the Latin church. His youth and manhood were of a suitable complexion; and the nations of pilgrims could bear testimony to the charges that were urged against him in a Roman synod, and in the presence of Otho the Great. As John XII. had renounced the dress and decencies of his profession, the soldier may not perhaps be dishonored by the wine which he drank, the blood that he spilt, the flames that he kindled, or the licentious pursuits of gaming and hunting. His open simony might be the consequence of distress; and his blasphemous invocation of Jupiter and Venus, if it be true, could not possibly be serious. But we read, with some surprise, that the worthy grandson of Marozia lived in public adultery with the matrons of Rome; that the Lateran palace was turned into a school for prostitution, and that his rapes of virgins and widows had deterred the female pilgrims from visiting the tomb of St. Peter, lest, in the devout act, they should be violated by his successor. The Protestants have dwelt with malicious pleasure on these characters of Antichrist; but to a philosophic eye, the vices of the clergy are far less dangerous than their virtues. After a long series of scandal, the apostolic see was reformed and exalted by the austerity and zeal of Gregory VII. That ambitious monk devoted his life to the execution of two projects. I. To fix in the college of cardinals the freedom and independence of election, and forever to abolish the right or usurpation of the emperors and the Roman people. II. To bestow and resume the Western empire as a fief or benefice of the church, and to extend his temporal dominion over the kings and kingdoms of the earth. After a contest of fifty years, the first of these designs was accomplished by the firm support of the ecclesiastical order, whose liberty was connected with that of their chief. But the second attempt, though it was crowned with some partial and apparent success, has been vigorously resisted by the secular power, and finally extinguished by the improvement of human reason.

These emperors continued to hold the powers in electing popes that had been taken on by the Gothic and Greek rulers. The significance of this power grew along with the temporal and spiritual authority of the Roman church. In the Christian aristocracy, leading members of the clergy formed a senate to assist in administration and to fill the position of the bishop. Rome was divided into twenty-eight parishes, each managed by a cardinal priest, or presbyter, a title that, despite its humble beginnings, aimed to rival the status of kings. Their numbers expanded with the inclusion of the seven deacons from major hospitals, the seven palatine judges of the Lateran, and other church dignitaries. This ecclesiastical senate was led by the seven cardinal-bishops of the Roman province, who were less engaged with the suburbs of Ostia, Porto, Velitræ, Tusculum, Præneste, Tibur, and the Sabines than with their weekly duties in the Lateran and their elevated status and influence within the apostolic see. Following the pope's death, these bishops would propose a successor to the cardinal college for consideration, with the final decision being validated or rejected by the approval or outcry of the Roman people. However, the election process was flawed; the pope couldn't be officially consecrated until the emperor, as the church's protector, had graciously indicated his approval and consent. The royal commissioner would monitor the proceedings for fairness, and only after a thorough evaluation of the candidates' qualifications would he accept an oath of loyalty and confirm the donations that had enriched St. Peter's estate over time. During frequent schisms, competing claims were presented to the emperor for judgment, who, in synods of bishops, claimed the authority to judge, condemn, and punish the transgressions of corrupt popes. Otho the First forced a pact on the senate and populace, requiring them to prefer the candidate most favored by the emperor; his successors would often preempt or alter their choices, granting the position of bishop in Rome, similar to those in Cologne or Bamberg, to their chancellors or teachers, regardless of any merits a Frank or Saxon might have, their names indicating the interference of foreign power. These acts of authority were conveniently justified by the flaws of popular elections. Candidates excluded by the cardinals played on the emotions or greed of the public; the Vatican and the Lateran were stained with blood, and powerful senators, like the marquises of Tuscany and the counts of Tusculum, kept the apostolic see in a prolonged and shameful captivity. In the ninth and tenth centuries, Roman popes faced insults, imprisonment, and even murder at the hands of their tyrants, and after losing and having their church properties seized, they were unable to sustain a princely lifestyle or uphold the kindness of a priest. The influence of two sisters, Marozia and Theodora, was built on their wealth and beauty, along with their political and romantic schemes: the strongest of their lovers were rewarded with the papal title, and their rule may have inspired the later myth of a female pope. Marozia's illegitimate son, grandson, and great-grandson—an unusual lineage—each occupied the chair of St. Peter, with the second becoming the head of the Latin church at just nineteen. His youth was fitting for the role, and many pilgrims could attest to the accusations against him raised in a Roman synod in front of Otho the Great. As John XII abandoned the attire and decorum of his position, he may not have been shamed by the wine he drank, the blood he spilled, the fires he started, or his indulgent pursuits of gambling and hunting. His blatant simony might have been born out of desperation, and if true, his blasphemous calls to Jupiter and Venus were unlikely to be genuine. However, it is surprising to learn that Marozia's grandson lived in open adultery with the wives of Romans; the Lateran palace became a hub of prostitution, and his assaults on virgins and widows kept female pilgrims from visiting St. Peter's tomb, fearing they would be violated in their act of devotion. Protestants have taken pleasure in calling out these traits as signs of Antichrist, but a rational perspective suggests that the clergy's vices pose less danger than their virtues. After a long period of scandal, the apostolic see was reformed and elevated by the rigorousness and passion of Gregory VII. This ambitious monk dedicated his life to two key projects: I. Establishing the freedom and independence of elections in the college of cardinals, permanently abolishing any rights or claims by emperors and the Roman populace. II. Securing and reclaiming the Western empire as a fief or benefice of the church, extending his temporal power over the kings and kingdoms of earth. After a fifty-year struggle, the first goal achieved with unwavering support from the ecclesiastical order, whose liberty was intertwined with that of their leader. However, the second effort, while it saw some partial and apparent success, faced strong resistance from secular authorities and ultimately dwindled with the advancement of human reasoning.

In the revival of the empire of empire of Rome, neither the bishop nor the people could bestow on Charlemagne or Otho the provinces which were lost, as they had been won, by the chance of arms. But the Romans were free to choose a master for themselves; and the powers which had been delegated to the patrician, were irrevocably granted to the French and Saxon emperors of the West. The broken records of the times preserve some remembrance of their palace, their mint, their tribunal, their edicts, and the sword of justice, which, as late as the thirteenth century, was derived from Cæsar to the præfect of the city. Between the arts of the popes and the violence of the people, this supremacy was crushed and annihilated. Content with the titles of emperor and Augustus, the successors of Charlemagne neglected to assert this local jurisdiction. In the hour of prosperity, their ambition was diverted by more alluring objects; and in the decay and division of the empire, they were oppressed by the defence of their hereditary provinces. Amidst the ruins of Italy, the famous Marozia invited one of the usurpers to assume the character of her third husband; and Hugh, king of Burgundy was introduced by her faction into the mole of Hadrian or Castle of St. Angelo, which commands the principal bridge and entrance of Rome. Her son by the first marriage, Alberic, was compelled to attend at the nuptial banquet; but his reluctant and ungraceful service was chastised with a blow by his new father. The blow was productive of a revolution. "Romans," exclaimed the youth, "once you were the masters of the world, and these Burgundians the most abject of your slaves. They now reign, these voracious and brutal savages, and my injury is the commencement of your servitude." The alarum bell rang to arms in every quarter of the city: the Burgundians retreated with haste and shame; Marozia was imprisoned by her victorious son, and his brother, Pope John XI., was reduced to the exercise of his spiritual functions. With the title of prince, Alberic possessed above twenty years the government of Rome; and he is said to have gratified the popular prejudice, by restoring the office, or at least the title, of consuls and tribunes. His son and heir Octavian assumed, with the pontificate, the name of John XII.: like his predecessor, he was provoked by the Lombard princes to seek a deliverer for the church and republic; and the services of Otho were rewarded with the Imperial dignity. But the Saxon was imperious, the Romans were impatient, the festival of the coronation was disturbed by the secret conflict of prerogative and freedom, and Otho commanded his sword-bearer not to stir from his person, lest he should be assaulted and murdered at the foot of the altar. Before he repassed the Alps, the emperor chastised the revolt of the people and the ingratitude of John XII. The pope was degraded in a synod; the præfect was mounted on an ass, whipped through the city, and cast into a dungeon; thirteen of the most guilty were hanged, others were mutilated or banished; and this severe process was justified by the ancient laws of Theodosius and Justinian. The voice of fame has accused the second Otho of a perfidious and bloody act, the massacre of the senators, whom he had invited to his table under the fair semblance of hospitality and friendship. In the minority of his son Otho the Third, Rome made a bold attempt to shake off the Saxon yoke, and the consul Crescentius was the Brutus of the republic. From the condition of a subject and an exile, he twice rose to the command of the city, oppressed, expelled, and created the popes, and formed a conspiracy for restoring the authority of the Greek emperors. In the fortress of St. Angelo, he maintained an obstinate siege, till the unfortunate consul was betrayed by a promise of safety: his body was suspended on a gibbet, and his head was exposed on the battlements of the castle. By a reverse of fortune, Otho, after separating his troops, was besieged three days, without food, in his palace; and a disgraceful escape saved him from the justice or fury of the Romans. The senator Ptolemy was the leader of the people, and the widow of Crescentius enjoyed the pleasure or the fame of revenging her husband, by a poison which she administered to her Imperial lover. It was the design of Otho the Third to abandon the ruder countries of the North, to erect his throne in Italy, and to revive the institutions of the Roman monarchy. But his successors only once in their lives appeared on the banks of the Tyber, to receive their crown in the Vatican. Their absence was contemptible, their presence odious and formidable. They descended from the Alps, at the head of their barbarians, who were strangers and enemies to the country; and their transient visit was a scene of tumult and bloodshed. A faint remembrance of their ancestors still tormented the Romans; and they beheld with pious indignation the succession of Saxons, Franks, Swabians, and Bohemians, who usurped the purple and prerogatives of the Cæsars.

In the revival of the Roman Empire, neither the bishop nor the people could grant Charlemagne or Otto the lost provinces, as they had been conquered through warfare. However, the Romans were free to choose their ruler, and the powers that had been given to the patrician were irrevocably passed on to the French and Saxon emperors of the West. The fragmented records of the era still hint at their palace, mint, tribunal, edicts, and the sword of justice, which, until the thirteenth century, was traced back from Caesar to the prefect of the city. Amid the influence of the popes and the violence of the people, this supremacy was crushed and destroyed. Satisfied with the titles of emperor and Augustus, Charlemagne’s successors neglected to assert local authority. During times of prosperity, their ambitions were drawn to more enticing pursuits; and as the empire fell into decay and division, they were burdened with the defense of their hereditary lands. Amid the ruins of Italy, the infamous Marozia invited one of the usurpers to take on the role of her third husband; Hugh, King of Burgundy, was brought in by her faction to the Castle of St. Angelo, which overlooks the main bridge and entrance to Rome. Her son from her first marriage, Alberic, was forced to attend the wedding feast, but his unwilling and clumsy service was punished with a slap from his new father. This slap led to a revolution. "Romans," shouted the young man, "you once ruled the world, and these Burgundians were the lowest of your slaves. They now reign, these greedy and brutal savages, and my injury marks the start of your servitude." The alarm bells rang for arms throughout the city: the Burgundians fled in haste and shame; Marozia was imprisoned by her victorious son, and his brother, Pope John XI, was reduced to his spiritual duties. As prince, Alberic ruled Rome for over twenty years; he is said to have indulged popular sentiment by restoring the office, or at least the title, of consuls and tribunes. His son and heir Octavian took on the title of John XII with the papacy: like his predecessor, he was stirred by the Lombard princes to seek a savior for the church and republic; Otto’s services earned him the title of emperor. But the Saxon was domineering, the Romans were restless, the coronation festival was disrupted by a hidden struggle over prerogative and freedom, and Otto ordered his sword-bearer to stay close to him, fearing he might be attacked and murdered at the altar. Before he returned over the Alps, the emperor punished the people's revolt and John XII's ingratitude. The pope was deposed in a synod; the prefect was mounted on a donkey, whipped through the city, and thrown into a dungeon; thirteen of the most guilty were executed, while others were mutilated or exiled; and this harsh process was justified by the ancient laws of Theodosius and Justinian. The whisper of history accuses the second Otto of a treacherous and bloody act, the massacre of senators whom he had invited to his table under the guise of hospitality and friendship. While Otto III was still young, Rome made a bold attempt to break free from Saxon rule, and Consul Crescentius was the Brutus of the republic. Rising from the status of a subject and exile, he twice took command of the city, was oppressed, expelled, and created popes, plotting to restore the authority of the Greek emperors. He stubbornly defended St. Angelo until the unfortunate consul was betrayed with a promise of safety: his body was displayed on a gallows, and his head was shown on the castle battlements. In a twist of fate, Otto, after splitting up his troops, was besieged for three days, without food, in his palace; a dishonorable escape saved him from the justice or wrath of the Romans. Senator Ptolemy led the people, and the widow of Crescentius found satisfaction or glory in avenging her husband, poisoning her Imperial lover. Otto III intended to leave the harsher northern lands, set up his throne in Italy, and revive the institutions of the Roman monarchy. But his successors only showed up on the banks of the Tiber once in their lives, to receive their crowns at the Vatican. Their absence was disdainful, their presence detestable and fearsome. They came down from the Alps, leading their barbarian armies, who were strangers and enemies to the land; their brief visits turned into scenes of chaos and violence. A faint memory of their ancestors still haunted the Romans; they viewed with righteous anger the line of Saxons, Franks, Swabians, and Bohemians, who claimed the purple robes and privileges of the Caesars.





Chapter XLIX: Conquest Of Italy By The Franks.—Part VI.

There is nothing perhaps more adverse to nature and reason than to hold in obedience remote countries and foreign nations, in opposition to their inclination and interest. A torrent of Barbarians may pass over the earth, but an extensive empire must be supported by a refined system of policy and oppression; in the centre, an absolute power, prompt in action and rich in resources; a swift and easy communication with the extreme parts; fortifications to check the first effort of rebellion; a regular administration to protect and punish; and a well-disciplined army to inspire fear, without provoking discontent and despair. Far different was the situation of the German Cæsars, who were ambitious to enslave the kingdom of Italy. Their patrimonial estates were stretched along the Rhine, or scattered in the provinces; but this ample domain was alienated by the imprudence or distress of successive princes; and their revenue, from minute and vexatious prerogative, was scarcely sufficient for the maintenance of their household. Their troops were formed by the legal or voluntary service of their feudal vassals, who passed the Alps with reluctance, assumed the license of rapine and disorder, and capriciously deserted before the end of the campaign. Whole armies were swept away by the pestilential influence of the climate: the survivors brought back the bones of their princes and nobles, and the effects of their own intemperance were often imputed to the treachery and malice of the Italians, who rejoiced at least in the calamities of the Barbarians. This irregular tyranny might contend on equal terms with the petty tyrants of Italy; nor can the people, or the reader, be much interested in the event of the quarrel. But in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the Lombards rekindled the flame of industry and freedom; and the generous example was at length imitated by the republics of Tuscany. In the Italian cities a municipal government had never been totally abolished; and their first privileges were granted by the favor and policy of the emperors, who were desirous of erecting a plebeian barrier against the independence of the nobles. But their rapid progress, the daily extension of their power and pretensions, were founded on the numbers and spirit of these rising communities. Each city filled the measure of her diocese or district: the jurisdiction of the counts and bishops, of the marquises and counts, was banished from the land; and the proudest nobles were persuaded or compelled to desert their solitary castles, and to embrace the more honorable character of freemen and magistrates. The legislative authority was inherent in the general assembly; but the executive powers were intrusted to three consuls, annually chosen from the three orders of captains, valvassors, and commons, into which the republic was divided. Under the protection of equal law, the labors of agriculture and commerce were gradually revived; but the martial spirit of the Lombards was nourished by the presence of danger; and as often as the bell was rung, or the standard erected, the gates of the city poured forth a numerous and intrepid band, whose zeal in their own cause was soon guided by the use and discipline of arms. At the foot of these popular ramparts, the pride of the Cæsars was overthrown; and the invincible genius of liberty prevailed over the two Frederics, the greatest princes of the middle age; the first, superior perhaps in military prowess; the second, who undoubtedly excelled in the softer accomplishments of peace and learning.

There’s probably nothing more against nature and reason than to force distant countries and foreign nations to obey, going against their wishes and interests. A flood of barbarians may sweep across the land, but a large empire needs a refined system of governance and oppression; at its center, a strong authority that acts quickly and is resource-rich; smooth and fast communication to its farthest regions; strongholds to quell initial uprisings; a well-organized administration to protect and punish; and a trained army to instill fear without stirring up resentment and despair. The situation of the German emperors trying to dominate Italy was very different. Their ancestral estates were spread out along the Rhine or scattered across provinces; however, this vast territory was undermined by the foolishness or struggles of successive rulers, and their revenue from petty and annoying privileges was barely enough to support their households. Their troops mainly comprised the legal or voluntary service of their feudal vassals, who crossed the Alps reluctantly, indulged in looting and chaos, and often deserted before the campaign ended. Entire armies were wiped out by the unhealthy climate; the survivors returned with the remains of their princes and nobles, and their own excesses were often blamed on the betrayal and malice of the Italians, who at least took pleasure in the suffering of the barbarians. This chaotic tyranny could compete on equal footing with the minor tyrants of Italy; neither the people nor the reader would be particularly invested in the outcome of the conflict. However, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the Lombards reignited the spark of industry and freedom; their noble example was eventually followed by the republics of Tuscany. In the Italian cities, municipal governance had never been completely dismantled; their initial privileges were granted through the goodwill and strategy of the emperors, who wanted to create a commoner barrier against the independence of the nobles. But their rapid advancement, and the constant growth of their power and ambitions, were based on the numbers and energy of these emerging communities. Each city governed its own diocese or district: the authority of counts and bishops, and marquises and counts, was expelled from the land; even the proudest nobles were persuaded or forced to abandon their isolated castles and take on the more honorable roles of freemen and magistrates. The legislative power lay with the general assembly; however, the executive powers were entrusted to three consuls, chosen annually from the three groups of captains, valvassors, and commoners, into which the republic was divided. Under the protection of equal law, the efforts in agriculture and commerce gradually revived; yet the warlike spirit of the Lombards was fueled by ongoing danger; and whenever the bell rang or the standard was raised, the city gates opened to unleash a brave and plentiful band, whose passion for their cause was soon honed by training and discipline in arms. At the base of these popular fortifications, the pride of the emperors was toppled; and the unstoppable force of liberty triumphed over the two Fredericks, the greatest princes of the Middle Ages; the first, perhaps superior in military skill; the second, undoubtedly excelling in the more refined pursuits of peace and knowledge.

Ambitious of restoring the splendor of the purple, Frederic the First invaded the republics of Lombardy, with the arts of a statesman, the valor of a soldier, and the cruelty of a tyrant. The recent discovery of the Pandects had renewed a science most favorable to despotism; and his venal advocates proclaimed the emperor the absolute master of the lives and properties of his subjects. His royal prerogatives, in a less odious sense, were acknowledged in the diet of Roncaglia; and the revenue of Italy was fixed at thirty thousand pounds of silver, which were multiplied to an indefinite demand by the rapine of the fiscal officers. The obstinate cities were reduced by the terror or the force of his arms: his captives were delivered to the executioner, or shot from his military engines; and after the siege and surrender of Milan, the buildings of that stately capital were razed to the ground, three hundred hostages were sent into Germany, and the inhabitants were dispersed in four villages, under the yoke of the inflexible conqueror. But Milan soon rose from her ashes; and the league of Lombardy was cemented by distress: their cause was espoused by Venice, Pope Alexander the Third, and the Greek emperor: the fabric of oppression was overturned in a day; and in the treaty of Constance, Frederic subscribed, with some reservations, the freedom of four-and-twenty cities. His grandson contended with their vigor and maturity; but Frederic the Second was endowed with some personal and peculiar advantages. His birth and education recommended him to the Italians; and in the implacable discord of the two factions, the Ghibelins were attached to the emperor, while the Guelfs displayed the banner of liberty and the church. The court of Rome had slumbered, when his father Henry the Sixth was permitted to unite with the empire the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily; and from these hereditary realms the son derived an ample and ready supply of troops and treasure. Yet Frederic the Second was finally oppressed by the arms of the Lombards and the thunders of the Vatican: his kingdom was given to a stranger, and the last of his family was beheaded at Naples on a public scaffold. During sixty years, no emperor appeared in Italy, and the name was remembered only by the ignominious sale of the last relics of sovereignty.

Ambitious to restore the glory of the purple, Frederick the First invaded the republics of Lombardy, employing the skills of a statesman, the bravery of a soldier, and the cruelty of a tyrant. The recent discovery of the Pandects had revitalized a legal framework favorable to despotism; his corrupt supporters declared the emperor the absolute master of his subjects' lives and properties. His royal prerogatives, in a somewhat less offensive sense, were acknowledged at the diet of Roncaglia, and the revenue of Italy was set at thirty thousand pounds of silver, which was endlessly increased by the plunder of the tax collectors. The stubborn cities were subdued either by fear or the strength of his army: his captives were handed over to the executioner or killed by his siege engines; and after the siege and surrender of Milan, the impressive buildings of that capital were destroyed, three hundred hostages were sent to Germany, and the residents were scattered across four villages under the strict control of their conqueror. But Milan soon rose from its ruins; and the League of Lombardy was strengthened by their hardships: Venice, Pope Alexander the Third, and the Byzantine emperor supported their cause. The structure of oppression was toppled in a day; and in the Treaty of Constance, Frederick agreed, with some conditions, to the freedom of twenty-four cities. His grandson faced their resilience and maturity; but Frederick the Second had some unique personal advantages. His birth and upbringing made him appealing to the Italians, and in the relentless conflict of the two factions, the Ghibellines supported the emperor, while the Guelphs showcased the banner of liberty and the church. The court of Rome had been inactive when his father Henry the Sixth was allowed to unite the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily with the empire; from these hereditary kingdoms, the son received a steady supply of troops and wealth. Yet Frederick the Second was ultimately defeated by the arms of the Lombards and the might of the Vatican: his kingdom was given to a foreigner, and the last of his family was executed in public at Naples. For sixty years, no emperor appeared in Italy, and the title was only remembered by the shameful sale of the last remnants of sovereignty.

The Barbarian conquerors of the West were pleased to decorate their chief with the title of emperor; but it was not their design to invest him with the despotism of Constantine and Justinian. The persons of the Germans were free, their conquests were their own, and their national character was animated by a spirit which scorned the servile jurisprudence of the new or the ancient Rome. It would have been a vain and dangerous attempt to impose a monarch on the armed freemen, who were impatient of a magistrate; on the bold, who refused to obey; on the powerful, who aspired to command. The empire of Charlemagne and Otho was distributed among the dukes of the nations or provinces, the counts of the smaller districts, and the margraves of the marches or frontiers, who all united the civil and military authority as it had been delegated to the lieutenants of the first Cæsars. The Roman governors, who, for the most part, were soldiers of fortune, seduced their mercenary legions, assumed the Imperial purple, and either failed or succeeded in their revolt, without wounding the power and unity of government. If the dukes, margraves, and counts of Germany, were less audacious in their claims, the consequences of their success were more lasting and pernicious to the state. Instead of aiming at the supreme rank, they silently labored to establish and appropriate their provincial independence. Their ambition was seconded by the weight of their estates and vassals, their mutual example and support, the common interest of the subordinate nobility, the change of princes and families, the minorities of Otho the Third and Henry the Fourth, the ambition of the popes, and the vain pursuit of the fugitive crowns of Italy and Rome. All the attributes of regal and territorial jurisdiction were gradually usurped by the commanders of the provinces; the right of peace and war, of life and death, of coinage and taxation, of foreign alliance and domestic economy. Whatever had been seized by violence, was ratified by favor or distress, was granted as the price of a doubtful vote or a voluntary service; whatever had been granted to one could not, without injury, be denied to his successor or equal; and every act of local or temporary possession was insensibly moulded into the constitution of the Germanic kingdom. In every province, the visible presence of the duke or count was interposed between the throne and the nobles; the subjects of the law became the vassals of a private chief; and the standard which he received from his sovereign, was often raised against him in the field. The temporal power of the clergy was cherished and exalted by the superstition or policy of the Carlovingian and Saxon dynasties, who blindly depended on their moderation and fidelity; and the bishoprics of Germany were made equal in extent and privilege, superior in wealth and population, to the most ample states of the military order. As long as the emperors retained the prerogative of bestowing on every vacancy these ecclesiastic and secular benefices, their cause was maintained by the gratitude or ambition of their friends and favorites. But in the quarrel of the investitures, they were deprived of their influence over the episcopal chapters; the freedom of election was restored, and the sovereign was reduced, by a solemn mockery, to his first prayers, the recommendation, once in his reign, to a single prebend in each church. The secular governors, instead of being recalled at the will of a superior, could be degraded only by the sentence of their peers. In the first age of the monarchy, the appointment of the son to the duchy or county of his father, was solicited as a favor; it was gradually obtained as a custom, and extorted as a right: the lineal succession was often extended to the collateral or female branches; the states of the empire (their popular, and at length their legal, appellation) were divided and alienated by testament and sale; and all idea of a public trust was lost in that of a private and perpetual inheritance. The emperor could not even be enriched by the casualties of forfeiture and extinction: within the term of a year, he was obliged to dispose of the vacant fief; and, in the choice of the candidate, it was his duty to consult either the general or the provincial diet.

The Barbarian conquerors of the West were happy to give their leader the title of emperor; however, they did not intend to grant him the absolute authority held by Constantine and Justinian. The people of Germany valued their freedom, their conquests belonged to them, and their national identity was driven by a spirit that rejected the submissive laws of both ancient and modern Rome. It would have been foolish and risky to try to impose a monarch on armed free men, who were resistant to authority; on the bold, who refused to obey; on the powerful, who aimed to lead. The empire of Charlemagne and Otto was divided among the dukes of the nations or provinces, the counts of smaller regions, and the margraves of the borders, all of whom combined civil and military power much like the lieutenants of the early Caesars. The Roman governors, often soldiers seeking fortune, swayed their mercenary legions to claim the Imperial title and either succeeded or failed in their revolts without damaging the power and unity of governance. While the dukes, margraves, and counts of Germany may have been less ambitious in their claims, the outcomes of their successes had more lasting and harmful effects on the state. Instead of striving for the highest rank, they quietly worked to establish and claim their provincial independence. Their ambitions were supported by the weight of their estates and vassals, by their collective example and support, by the shared interests of the lower nobility, by the changing of rulers and families, by the youth of Otto III and Henry IV, by the ambition of the popes, and by the futile chase for the fleeting crowns of Italy and Rome. Over time, the commanders of the provinces increasingly took control of various aspects of power: rights of war and peace, life and death, coinage and taxation, foreign alliances, and domestic governance. Anything that had previously been seized by force was legitimized by favor or coercion, granted as a reward for a questionable vote or voluntary service; what had been granted to one could not, without causing harm, be refused to a successor or peer; and every act of local or temporary possession gradually became part of the constitution of the Germanic kingdom. In each province, the presence of the duke or count stood in the way of the throne and the nobles; the subjects of the law became the vassals of a private leader; and the standard that he received from his sovereign was often raised against him in battle. The secular power of the clergy was supported and elevated by the superstition or strategies of the Carlovingian and Saxon dynasties, who relied heavily on their moderation and loyalty; the bishoprics of Germany became equal in size and rights, superior in wealth and population, to the largest states of the military order. As long as the emperors retained the right to fill every vacancy in these ecclesiastical and secular jobs, their support was bolstered by the loyalty or ambitions of their allies and favorites. However, during the investiture conflicts, they lost their control over the church chapters; the freedom of election was restored, and the sovereign was reduced, through a humiliating process, to his first prayers: the recommendation, once during his reign, for a single prebend in each church. Secular governors, instead of being dismissed at the whim of a superior, could only be removed by their peers’ judgment. In the early days of the monarchy, requesting the appointment of a son to inherit his father’s duchy or county was seen as a favor; gradually it became a customary right, later seen as an entitlement: direct succession was often extended to collateral or female lines; the states of the empire (the name they were eventually legally recognized by) were split and sold off through will and sale; and all notions of public trust were lost to the idea of permanent private inheritance. The emperor couldn’t profit from forfeitures or claims; within a year, he had to distribute the vacant fief; and in selecting the candidate, he was required to consult either the general or provincial diet.

After the death of Frederic the Second, Germany was left a monster with a hundred heads. A crowd of princes and prelates disputed the ruins of the empire: the lords of innumerable castles were less prone to obey, than to imitate, their superiors; and, according to the measure of their strength, their incessant hostilities received the names of conquest or robbery. Such anarchy was the inevitable consequence of the laws and manners of Europe; and the kingdoms of France and Italy were shivered into fragments by the violence of the same tempest. But the Italian cities and the French vassals were divided and destroyed, while the union of the Germans has produced, under the name of an empire, a great system of a federative republic. In the frequent and at last the perpetual institution of diets, a national spirit was kept alive, and the powers of a common legislature are still exercised by the three branches or colleges of the electors, the princes, and the free and Imperial cities of Germany. I. Seven of the most powerful feudatories were permitted to assume, with a distinguished name and rank, the exclusive privilege of choosing the Roman emperor; and these electors were the king of Bohemia, the duke of Saxony, the margrave of Brandenburgh, the count palatine of the Rhine, and the three archbishops of Mentz, of Treves, and of Cologne. II. The college of princes and prelates purged themselves of a promiscuous multitude: they reduced to four representative votes the long series of independent counts, and excluded the nobles or equestrian order, sixty thousand of whom, as in the Polish diets, had appeared on horseback in the field of election. III. The pride of birth and dominion, of the sword and the mitre, wisely adopted the commons as the third branch of the legislature, and, in the progress of society, they were introduced about the same æra into the national assemblies of France England, and Germany. The Hanseatic League commanded the trade and navigation of the north: the confederates of the Rhine secured the peace and intercourse of the inland country; the influence of the cities has been adequate to their wealth and policy, and their negative still invalidates the acts of the two superior colleges of electors and princes.

After the death of Frederick II, Germany turned into a chaotic entity with a hundred factions. A group of princes and religious leaders fought over the remains of the empire: the lords of countless castles were more inclined to mimic their superiors than to obey them; and, depending on their power, their ongoing conflicts were labeled as conquests or thefts. This chaos was the unavoidable result of the laws and customs of Europe; the kingdoms of France and Italy were also shattered by the same storm. However, while the Italian cities and French vassals became divided and destroyed, the unity among Germans led to the creation of a large federative republic under the name of an empire. Through the frequent and eventually constant establishment of assemblies, a sense of national identity was maintained, and the powers of a shared legislature are still exercised by the three groups or colleges of electors, princes, and the free and Imperial cities of Germany. I. Seven of the most powerful lords were granted the notable title and rank of having the exclusive right to choose the Roman emperor; these electors included the king of Bohemia, the duke of Saxony, the margrave of Brandenburg, the count palatine of the Rhine, and the three archbishops of Mainz, Trier, and Cologne. II. The college of princes and religious leaders streamlined themselves by eliminating a mixed multitude: they limited the representation to four votes from the long list of independent counts and excluded the noble or equestrian class, sixty thousand of whom, like in the Polish assemblies, had shown up on horseback at the election field. III. The pride of lineage and authority, both military and ecclesiastical, wisely included the common people as the third branch of the legislature, and, as society progressed, they were integrated around the same time into the national assemblies of France, England, and Germany. The Hanseatic League dominated trade and navigation in the north; the confederation of the Rhine maintained peace and communication within the region; the influence of the cities was proportional to their wealth and political power, and their opposition continues to negate the decisions of the two higher colleges of electors and princes.

It is in the fourteenth century that we may view in the strongest light the state and contrast of the Roman empire of Germany, which no longer held, except on the borders of the Rhine and Danube, a single province of Trajan or Constantine. Their unworthy successors were the counts of Hapsburgh, of Nassau, of Luxemburgh, and Schwartzenburgh: the emperor Henry the Seventh procured for his son the crown of Bohemia, and his grandson Charles the Fourth was born among a people strange and barbarous in the estimation of the Germans themselves. After the excommunication of Lewis of Bavaria, he received the gift or promise of the vacant empire from the Roman pontiffs, who, in the exile and captivity of Avignon, affected the dominion of the earth. The death of his competitors united the electoral college, and Charles was unanimously saluted king of the Romans, and future emperor; a title which, in the same age, was prostituted to the Cæsars of Germany and Greece. The German emperor was no more than the elective and impotent magistrate of an aristocracy of princes, who had not left him a village that he might call his own. His best prerogative was the right of presiding and proposing in the national senate, which was convened at his summons; and his native kingdom of Bohemia, less opulent than the adjacent city of Nuremberg, was the firmest seat of his power and the richest source of his revenue. The army with which he passed the Alps consisted of three hundred horse. In the cathedral of St. Ambrose, Charles was crowned with the iron crown, which tradition ascribed to the Lombard monarchy; but he was admitted only with a peaceful train; the gates of the city were shut upon him; and the king of Italy was held a captive by the arms of the Visconti, whom he confirmed in the sovereignty of Milan. In the Vatican he was again crowned with the golden crown of the empire; but, in obedience to a secret treaty, the Roman emperor immediately withdrew, without reposing a single night within the walls of Rome. The eloquent Petrarch, whose fancy revived the visionary glories of the Capitol, deplores and upbraids the ignominious flight of the Bohemian; and even his contemporaries could observe, that the sole exercise of his authority was in the lucrative sale of privileges and titles. The gold of Italy secured the election of his son; but such was the shameful poverty of the Roman emperor, that his person was arrested by a butcher in the streets of Worms, and was detained in the public inn, as a pledge or hostage for the payment of his expenses.

In the fourteenth century, we can clearly see the state and contrast of the Holy Roman Empire of Germany, which no longer controlled any provinces established by Trajan or Constantine, except along the borders of the Rhine and Danube. Their unworthy successors included the counts of Hapsburg, Nassau, Luxembourg, and Schwarzenburg. Emperor Henry VII secured the crown of Bohemia for his son, and his grandson Charles IV was born among people considered strange and barbaric by the Germans. After Louis of Bavaria was excommunicated, he received the claim or promise of the vacant empire from the Roman popes, who, during their exile and captivity in Avignon, sought dominion over the earth. The death of his rivals united the electoral college, and Charles was unanimously hailed as king of the Romans and future emperor—a title that was diminished during the same era among the Cæsars of Germany and Greece. The German emperor was little more than the elected and powerless official of an aristocracy of princes, who left him with no village he could call his own. His greatest privilege was the right to preside and propose in the national senate, which met at his behest; and his homeland of Bohemia, less wealthy than the nearby city of Nuremberg, became the most stable base of his power and the richest source of his income. The army he led across the Alps consisted of three hundred cavalry. In the cathedral of St. Ambrose, Charles was crowned with the iron crown, traditionally associated with the Lombard monarchy; however, he entered only with a peaceful entourage, the city gates were shut against him, and the king of Italy was held captive by the Visconti, whom he acknowledged as sovereigns of Milan. In the Vatican, he was crowned again with the golden crown of the empire, but, under a secret treaty, the Roman emperor promptly left, not spending a single night within Rome's walls. The eloquent Petrarch, whose imagination revived the dreamlike glories of the Capitol, lamented and criticized the disgraceful flight of the Bohemian; even his contemporaries noted that his only exercise of authority was in the profitable sale of privileges and titles. The wealth of Italy secured the election of his son; however, the shameful poverty of the Roman emperor was such that he was arrested by a butcher in the streets of Worms and held in a public inn as a pledge or hostage for the payment of his expenses.

From this humiliating scene, let us turn to the apparent majesty of the same Charles in the diets of the empire. The golden bull, which fixes the Germanic constitution, is promulgated in the style of a sovereign and legislator. A hundred princes bowed before his throne, and exalted their own dignity by the voluntary honors which they yielded to their chief or minister. At the royal banquet, the hereditary great officers, the seven electors, who in rank and title were equal to kings, performed their solemn and domestic service of the palace. The seals of the triple kingdom were borne in state by the archbishops of Mentz, Cologne, and Treves, the perpetual arch-chancellors of Germany, Italy, and Arles. The great marshal, on horseback, exercised his function with a silver measure of oats, which he emptied on the ground, and immediately dismounted to regulate the order of the guests. The great steward, the count palatine of the Rhine, place the dishes on the table. The great chamberlain, the margrave of Brandenburgh, presented, after the repast, the golden ewer and basin, to wash. The king of Bohemia, as great cup-bearer, was represented by the emperor's brother, the duke of Luxemburgh and Brabant; and the procession was closed by the great huntsmen, who introduced a boar and a stag, with a loud chorus of horns and hounds. Nor was the supremacy of the emperor confined to Germany alone: the hereditary monarchs of Europe confessed the preëminence of his rank and dignity: he was the first of the Christian princes, the temporal head of the great republic of the West: to his person the title of majesty was long appropriated; and he disputed with the pope the sublime prerogative of creating kings and assembling councils. The oracle of the civil law, the learned Bartolus, was a pensioner of Charles the Fourth; and his school resounded with the doctrine, that the Roman emperor was the rightful sovereign of the earth, from the rising to the setting sun. The contrary opinion was condemned, not as an error, but as a heresy, since even the gospel had pronounced, "And there went forth a decree from Cæsar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed."

From this embarrassing scene, let’s shift to the impressive presence of Charles during the diets of the empire. The Golden Bull, which establishes the Germanic constitution, is announced in a manner befitting a sovereign and lawmaker. A hundred princes bowed before his throne and elevated their own status through the honors they willingly offered to their leader or minister. At the royal feast, the hereditary great officers and the seven electors, who were equal in rank and title to kings, performed their formal and domestic duties in the palace. The seals of the triple kingdom were carried in state by the archbishops of Mentz, Cologne, and Treves, the perpetual arch-chancellors of Germany, Italy, and Arles. The great marshal, mounted on horseback, fulfilled his role by pouring oats from a silver measure onto the ground, then dismounted to manage the seating of the guests. The great steward, the count palatine of the Rhine, arranged the dishes on the table. The great chamberlain, the margrave of Brandenburg, presented the golden ewer and basin for washing after the meal. The king of Bohemia, serving as the great cup-bearer, was represented by the emperor's brother, the duke of Luxembourg and Brabant; and the procession was concluded by the great huntsmen, who brought in a boar and a stag, accompanied by a loud fanfare of horns and hounds. The emperor's supremacy wasn’t just limited to Germany: the hereditary monarchs of Europe acknowledged his rank and prestige. He was considered the foremost of the Christian princes, the temporal leader of the great republic of the West; the title of majesty was often reserved for him alone, and he contended with the pope for the high honor of creating kings and convening councils. The authority on civil law, the learned Bartolus, was a supporter of Charles the Fourth; and his teachings echoed the belief that the Roman emperor was the rightful sovereign of the earth, from east to west. The opposing view was condemned not merely as incorrect but as heretical since even the Gospel stated, “And there went forth a decree from Cæsar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.”

If we annihilate the interval of time and space between Augustus and Charles, strong and striking will be the contrast between the two Cæsars; the Bohemian who concealed his weakness under the mask of ostentation, and the Roman, who disguised his strength under the semblance of modesty. At the head of his victorious legions, in his reign over the sea and land, from the Nile and Euphrates to the Atlantic Ocean, Augustus professed himself the servant of the state and the equal of his fellow-citizens. The conqueror of Rome and her provinces assumed a popular and legal form of a censor, a consul, and a tribune. His will was the law of mankind, but in the declaration of his laws he borrowed the voice of the senate and people; and from their decrees their master accepted and renewed his temporary commission to administer the republic. In his dress, his domestics, his titles, in all the offices of social life, Augustus maintained the character of a private Roman; and his most artful flatterers respected the secret of his absolute and perpetual monarchy.

If we eliminate the time and space between Augustus and Charles, the difference between the two leaders becomes clear; the Bohemian who hid his weaknesses behind a facade of showiness, and the Roman, who masked his strength with a guise of humility. Leading his victorious legions, ruling over land and sea, from the Nile and Euphrates to the Atlantic Ocean, Augustus claimed to be the servant of the state and an equal to his fellow citizens. The conqueror of Rome and its territories took on the popular and legal roles of a censor, consul, and tribune. His will was viewed as the law of humanity, but when announcing his laws, he used the voice of the senate and the people; and from their decrees, he accepted and renewed his temporary commission to govern the republic. In his clothing, his staff, his titles, and all aspects of social life, Augustus maintained the image of a private Roman, and even his most cunning flatterers respected the secret of his absolute and everlasting rule.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part I.

     Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Birth,
     Character, And Doctrine Of Mahomet.—He Preaches At Mecca.—
     Flies To Medina.—Propagates His Religion By The Sword.—
     Voluntary Or Reluctant Submission Of The Arabs.—His Death
     And Successors.—The Claims And Fortunes Of Ali And His
     Descendants.
     Description of Arabia and Its Inhabitants. — Birth, Character, and Teachings of Muhammad. — He Preaches in Mecca. — Flees to Medina. — Spreads His Religion by Force. — Willing or Unwilling Acceptance of the Arabs. — His Death and Successors. — The Claims and Fortunes of Ali and His Descendants.

After pursuing above six hundred years the fleeting Cæsars of Constantinople and Germany, I now descend, in the reign of Heraclius, on the eastern borders of the Greek monarchy. While the state was exhausted by the Persian war, and the church was distracted by the Nestorian and Monophysite sects, Mahomet, with the sword in one hand and the Koran in the other, erected his throne on the ruins of Christianity and of Rome. The genius of the Arabian prophet, the manners of his nation, and the spirit of his religion, involve the causes of the decline and fall of the Eastern empire; and our eyes are curiously intent on one of the most memorable revolutions, which have impressed a new and lasting character on the nations of the globe.

After more than six hundred years of chasing after the elusive Cæsars of Constantinople and Germany, I now turn my attention, during the reign of Heraclius, to the eastern borders of the Greek kingdom. While the state was weakened by the Persian war, and the church was divided by the Nestorian and Monophysite sects, Muhammad, with a sword in one hand and the Koran in the other, established his rule on the ruins of Christianity and Rome. The influence of the Arabian prophet, the culture of his people, and the essence of his religion are key factors in the decline and fall of the Eastern empire; and we are keenly focused on one of the most significant revolutions that has left a new and lasting impact on the nations of the world.

In the vacant space between Persia, Syria, Egypt, and Æthiopia, the Arabian peninsula may be conceived as a triangle of spacious but irregular dimensions. From the northern point of Beles on the Euphrates, a line of fifteen hundred miles is terminated by the Straits of Bebelmandel and the land of frankincense. About half this length may be allowed for the middle breadth, from east to west, from Bassora to Suez, from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. The sides of the triangle are gradually enlarged, and the southern basis presents a front of a thousand miles to the Indian Ocean. The entire surface of the peninsula exceeds in a fourfold proportion that of Germany or France; but the far greater part has been justly stigmatized with the epithets of the stony and the sandy. Even the wilds of Tartary are decked, by the hand of nature, with lofty trees and luxuriant herbage; and the lonesome traveller derives a sort of comfort and society from the presence of vegetable life. But in the dreary waste of Arabia, a boundless level of sand is intersected by sharp and naked mountains; and the face of the desert, without shade or shelter, is scorched by the direct and intense rays of a tropical sun. Instead of refreshing breezes, the winds, particularly from the south-west, diffuse a noxious and even deadly vapor; the hillocks of sand which they alternately raise and scatter, are compared to the billows of the ocean, and whole caravans, whole armies, have been lost and buried in the whirlwind. The common benefits of water are an object of desire and contest; and such is the scarcity of wood, that some art is requisite to preserve and propagate the element of fire. Arabia is destitute of navigable rivers, which fertilize the soil, and convey its produce to the adjacent regions: the torrents that fall from the hills are imbibed by the thirsty earth: the rare and hardy plants, the tamarind or the acacia, that strike their roots into the clefts of the rocks, are nourished by the dews of the night: a scanty supply of rain is collected in cisterns and aqueducts: the wells and springs are the secret treasure of the desert; and the pilgrim of Mecca, after many a dry and sultry march, is disgusted by the taste of the waters which have rolled over a bed of sulphur or salt. Such is the general and genuine picture of the climate of Arabia. The experience of evil enhances the value of any local or partial enjoyments. A shady grove, a green pasture, a stream of fresh water, are sufficient to attract a colony of sedentary Arabs to the fortunate spots which can afford food and refreshment to themselves and their cattle, and which encourage their industry in the cultivation of the palmtree and the vine. The high lands that border on the Indian Ocean are distinguished by their superior plenty of wood and water; the air is more temperate, the fruits are more delicious, the animals and the human race more numerous: the fertility of the soil invites and rewards the toil of the husbandman; and the peculiar gifts of frankincense and coffee have attracted in different ages the merchants of the world. If it be compared with the rest of the peninsula, this sequestered region may truly deserve the appellation of the happy; and the splendid coloring of fancy and fiction has been suggested by contrast, and countenanced by distance. It was for this earthly paradise that Nature had reserved her choicest favors and her most curious workmanship: the incompatible blessings of luxury and innocence were ascribed to the natives: the soil was impregnated with gold and gems, and both the land and sea were taught to exhale the odors of aromatic sweets. This division of the sandy, the stony, and the happy, so familiar to the Greeks and Latins, is unknown to the Arabians themselves; and it is singular enough, that a country, whose language and inhabitants have ever been the same, should scarcely retain a vestige of its ancient geography. The maritime districts of Bahrein and Oman are opposite to the realm of Persia. The kingdom of Yemen displays the limits, or at least the situation, of Arabia Felix: the name of Neged is extended over the inland space; and the birth of Mahomet has illustrated the province of Hejaz along the coast of the Red Sea.

In the empty area between Persia, Syria, Egypt, and Ethiopia, the Arabian Peninsula can be imagined as a triangle with large but uneven dimensions. From the northern point of Beles on the Euphrates, a line of fifteen hundred miles ends at the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb and the land of frankincense. About half of this distance can be estimated for the middle width, from east to west, stretching from Basra to Suez, from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. The sides of the triangle gradually expand, and the southern base stretches a thousand miles toward the Indian Ocean. The entire area of the peninsula is four times larger than Germany or France; however, most of it is justly labeled as the stony and the sandy. Even the wilds of Tartary are adorned by nature with tall trees and lush greenery; and the lonely traveler finds some comfort and companionship in the presence of plant life. But in the desolate expanse of Arabia, an endless stretch of sand is crisscrossed by sharp and bare mountains; and the face of the desert, without shade or shelter, is scorched by the direct and intense rays of a tropical sun. Instead of refreshing breezes, the winds, especially from the southwest, carry a toxic and even deadly mist; the mounds of sand they alternately create and scatter are likened to the waves of the ocean, and entire caravans, whole armies, have been lost and buried in the storm. The general need for water leads to desire and conflict; and the scarcity of wood requires skill to maintain and spread the element of fire. Arabia lacks navigable rivers that could enrich the soil and transport its produce to nearby areas: the torrents that flow from the hills are absorbed by the thirsty ground; the rare, hardy plants, like tamarind or acacia, that send their roots into the rock crevices, are nourished by the night dews; a limited supply of rain is collected in cisterns and aqueducts; the wells and springs are the hidden treasure of the desert; and the pilgrim of Mecca, after many dry and hot marches, is often repulsed by the taste of water that has flowed over a bed of sulfur or salt. This is the general and genuine picture of the climate of Arabia. The experience of hardship makes any local or temporary pleasures seem more valuable. A shady grove, a green pasture, a stream of fresh water are enough to draw a group of settled Arabs to the fortunate areas that can provide food and refreshment for themselves and their livestock, encouraging their efforts in cultivating the date palm and vineyards. The highlands that border the Indian Ocean are characterized by greater abundance of wood and water; the air is more temperate, the fruits more delicious, and both animals and people more numerous: the fertility of the soil rewards the farmer's hard work; and the particular treasures of frankincense and coffee have attracted merchants of the world throughout different times. Compared to the rest of the peninsula, this secluded region truly deserves the title of the happy; and the vivid imagery of imagination and fiction comes from this contrast and is supported by distance. It was for this earthly paradise that Nature reserved her finest gifts and most intricate creations: the conflicting blessings of luxury and innocence were attributed to the locals; the soil was rich with gold and gems, and both the land and sea were known for the scents of aromatic delights. This division of the sandy, the stony, and the happy, familiar to the Greeks and Romans, is unknown to the Arabs themselves; and it's quite notable that a country, whose language and people have always remained the same, should hardly retain any trace of its ancient geography. The coastal areas of Bahrein and Oman lie opposite the kingdom of Persia. The kingdom of Yemen marks the boundaries, or at least the location, of Arabia Felix: the name of Neged extends over the inland region; and the birth of Muhammad has brought attention to the province of Hejaz along the coast of the Red Sea.

The measure of population is regulated by the means of subsistence; and the inhabitants of this vast peninsula might be outnumbered by the subjects of a fertile and industrious province. Along the shores of the Persian Gulf, of the ocean, and even of the Red Sea, the Icthyophagi, or fish eaters, continued to wander in quest of their precarious food. In this primitive and abject state, which ill deserves the name of society, the human brute, without arts or laws, almost without sense or language, is poorly distinguished from the rest of the animal creation. Generations and ages might roll away in silent oblivion, and the helpless savage was restrained from multiplying his race by the wants and pursuits which confined his existence to the narrow margin of the seacoast. But in an early period of antiquity the great body of the Arabs had emerged from this scene of misery; and as the naked wilderness could not maintain a people of hunters, they rose at once to the more secure and plentiful condition of the pastoral life. The same life is uniformly pursued by the roving tribes of the desert; and in the portrait of the modern Bedoweens, we may trace the features of their ancestors, who, in the age of Moses or Mahomet, dwelt under similar tents, and conducted their horses, and camels, and sheep, to the same springs and the same pastures. Our toil is lessened, and our wealth is increased, by our dominion over the useful animals; and the Arabian shepherd had acquired the absolute possession of a faithful friend and a laborious slave. Arabia, in the opinion of the naturalist, is the genuine and original country of the horse; the climate most propitious, not indeed to the size, but to the spirit and swiftness, of that generous animal. The merit of the Barb, the Spanish, and the English breed, is derived from a mixture of Arabian blood: the Bedoweens preserve, with superstitious care, the honors and the memory of the purest race: the males are sold at a high price, but the females are seldom alienated; and the birth of a noble foal was esteemed among the tribes, as a subject of joy and mutual congratulation. These horses are educated in the tents, among the children of the Arabs, with a tender familiarity, which trains them in the habits of gentleness and attachment. They are accustomed only to walk and to gallop: their sensations are not blunted by the incessant abuse of the spur and the whip: their powers are reserved for the moments of flight and pursuit: but no sooner do they feel the touch of the hand or the stirrup, than they dart away with the swiftness of the wind; and if their friend be dismounted in the rapid career, they instantly stop till he has recovered his seat. In the sands of Africa and Arabia, the camel is a sacred and precious gift. That strong and patient beast of burden can perform, without eating or drinking, a journey of several days; and a reservoir of fresh water is preserved in a large bag, a fifth stomach of the animal, whose body is imprinted with the marks of servitude: the larger breed is capable of transporting a weight of a thousand pounds; and the dromedary, of a lighter and more active frame, outstrips the fleetest courser in the race. Alive or dead, almost every part of the camel is serviceable to man: her milk is plentiful and nutritious: the young and tender flesh has the taste of veal: a valuable salt is extracted from the urine: the dung supplies the deficiency of fuel; and the long hair, which falls each year and is renewed, is coarsely manufactured into the garments, the furniture, and the tents of the Bedoweens. In the rainy seasons, they consume the rare and insufficient herbage of the desert: during the heats of summer and the scarcity of winter, they remove their encampments to the sea-coast, the hills of Yemen, or the neighborhood of the Euphrates, and have often extorted the dangerous license of visiting the banks of the Nile, and the villages of Syria and Palestine. The life of a wandering Arab is a life of danger and distress; and though sometimes, by rapine or exchange, he may appropriate the fruits of industry, a private citizen in Europe is in the possession of more solid and pleasing luxury than the proudest emir, who marches in the field at the head of ten thousand horse.

The size of the population is determined by the resources available; the people living in this large peninsula could easily be surpassed by the inhabitants of a fertile and productive region. Along the banks of the Persian Gulf, the ocean, and even the Red Sea, the Icthyophagi, or fish eaters, continued to roam in search of their uncertain food. In this primitive and pitiful state, which hardly qualifies as a society, humans, lacking arts or laws and almost without thought or language, are scarcely distinguished from other animals. Generations could pass in silent forgetfulness, and the helpless savage was limited in expanding his lineage by the needs and activities that kept him confined to the thin strip of the seacoast. However, early in ancient times, a large group of Arabs emerged from this miserable existence; and as the barren wilderness couldn’t support a community of hunters, they quickly adopted a more stable and plentiful pastoral lifestyle. This way of life is consistently followed by the wandering tribes of the desert; in the modern Bedoweens, we can see the traits of their ancestors who, in the time of Moses or Muhammad, lived in similar tents and led their horses, camels, and sheep to the same water sources and pastures. Our labor is eased, and our wealth increases, by our control over useful animals; and the Arabian shepherd had the complete ownership of a loyal companion and a hardworking servant. According to naturalists, Arabia is the true and original homeland of the horse; the climate is most favorable, not necessarily for size, but for the spirit and speed of that noble animal. The quality of the Barb, Spanish, and English horse breeds comes from a mixture with Arabian blood: the Bedoweens carefully preserve the honors and memories of the purest line; males are sold at high prices, but females are rarely given away; and the birth of a noble foal is celebrated among the tribes as a reason for joy and congratulations. These horses are raised in tents, among the children of the Arabs, in a gentle familiarity that encourages kindness and attachment. They are trained only to walk and gallop: their senses are not dulled by constant use of spurs and whips: their strength is reserved for moments of flight and chase: but no sooner do they feel a hand or stirrup than they dash away with the speed of the wind; and if their rider falls during their rapid run, they come to an immediate stop until he regains his seat. In the sands of Africa and Arabia, the camel is a revered and invaluable companion. This strong and patient beast of burden can travel for several days without eating or drinking, and it holds fresh water in a large pouch, a fifth stomach, and its body bears the marks of labor: the larger camels can carry a thousand pounds, while the dromedary, being lighter and more agile, outpaces even the fastest horse. Alive or dead, nearly every part of the camel is useful to humans: its milk is abundant and nutritious; the young, tender meat tastes like veal; valuable salt can be extracted from its urine; its dung provides a much-needed fuel source; and the long hair that sheds each year is rough-spun into garments, furniture, and tents for the Bedoweens. During the rainy seasons, they consume the rare and insufficient grass of the desert; in the summer heat and winter scarcity, they move their camps to the coast, the hills of Yemen, or near the Euphrates, often gaining the risky permission to visit the banks of the Nile or the villages in Syria and Palestine. The life of a wandering Arab is fraught with danger and hardship; and while he may sometimes acquire the products of labor through theft or trade, a regular citizen in Europe enjoys more solid and satisfying comforts than the proudest emir leading ten thousand horses into battle.

Yet an essential difference may be found between the hordes of Scythia and the Arabian tribes; since many of the latter were collected into towns, and employed in the labors of trade and agriculture. A part of their time and industry was still devoted to the management of their cattle: they mingled, in peace and war, with their brethren of the desert; and the Bedoweens derived from their useful intercourse some supply of their wants, and some rudiments of art and knowledge. Among the forty-two cities of Arabia, enumerated by Abulfeda, the most ancient and populous were situate in the happy Yemen: the towers of Saana, and the marvellous reservoir of Merab, were constructed by the kings of the Homerites; but their profane lustre was eclipsed by the prophetic glories of Medina and Mecca, near the Red Sea, and at the distance from each other of two hundred and seventy miles. The last of these holy places was known to the Greeks under the name of Macoraba; and the termination of the word is expressive of its greatness, which has not, indeed, in the most flourishing period, exceeded the size and populousness of Marseilles. Some latent motive, perhaps of superstition, must have impelled the founders, in the choice of a most unpromising situation. They erected their habitations of mud or stone, in a plain about two miles long and one mile broad, at the foot of three barren mountains: the soil is a rock; the water even of the holy well of Zemzem is bitter or brackish; the pastures are remote from the city; and grapes are transported above seventy miles from the gardens of Tayef. The fame and spirit of the Koreishites, who reigned in Mecca, were conspicuous among the Arabian tribes; but their ungrateful soil refused the labors of agriculture, and their position was favorable to the enterprises of trade. By the seaport of Gedda, at the distance only of forty miles, they maintained an easy correspondence with Abyssinia; and that Christian kingdom afforded the first refuge to the disciples of Mahomet. The treasures of Africa were conveyed over the Peninsula to Gerrha or Katif, in the province of Bahrein, a city built, as it is said, of rock-salt, by the Chaldæan exiles; and from thence with the native pearls of the Persian Gulf, they were floated on rafts to the mouth of the Euphrates. Mecca is placed almost at an equal distance, a month's journey, between Yemen on the right, and Syria on the left hand. The former was the winter, the latter the summer, station of her caravans; and their seasonable arrival relieved the ships of India from the tedious and troublesome navigation of the Red Sea. In the markets of Saana and Merab, in the harbors of Oman and Aden, the camels of the Koreishites were laden with a precious cargo of aromatics; a supply of corn and manufactures was purchased in the fairs of Bostra and Damascus; the lucrative exchange diffused plenty and riches in the streets of Mecca; and the noblest of her sons united the love of arms with the profession of merchandise.

Yet there's a key difference between the Scythian hordes and the Arabian tribes; many of the latter lived in towns and engaged in trade and farming. Some of their time and effort was dedicated to managing their livestock. They interacted peacefully and in conflict with their desert relatives, and the Bedouins benefited from their useful exchanges, gaining some resources and basic arts and knowledge. Among the forty-two cities of Arabia listed by Abulfeda, the oldest and most populated were located in the happy Yemen: the towers of Saana and the incredible reservoir of Merab were built by the kings of the Homerites; however, their secular splendor was overshadowed by the prophetic prestige of Medina and Mecca, which are near the Red Sea and about two hundred and seventy miles apart. The latter was known to the Greeks as Macoraba, and the ending of the name reflects its significance, which has not, in fact, even at its peak, surpassed the size and population of Marseille. Some underlying, perhaps superstitious, reason must have driven the founders to choose such an unpromising location. They constructed their homes of mud or stone in a plain approximately two miles long and one mile wide, at the foot of three barren mountains. The soil is rocky; even the water from the holy well of Zemzem is bitter or brackish; pastures are far from the city; and grapes are brought over seventy miles from the gardens of Tayef. The fame and vitality of the Koreishites, who ruled in Mecca, stood out among the Arabian tribes, but their ungrateful land wouldn’t support agriculture, and their location favored trade. Through the seaport of Jeddah, only forty miles away, they easily communicated with Abyssinia, which provided the first refuge for the followers of Muhammad. Treasures from Africa were transported across the Peninsula to Gerrha or Katif in the province of Bahrein, a city reportedly built of rock salt by Chaldæan exiles; from there, the local pearls of the Persian Gulf were floated on rafts to the mouth of the Euphrates. Mecca is situated almost equidistant, a month’s journey, between Yemen on the right and Syria on the left. The former was the winter station and the latter the summer station for their caravans; their timely arrivals spared Indian ships from the lengthy and difficult navigation of the Red Sea. In the markets of Saana and Merab, as well as the ports of Oman and Aden, the camels of the Koreishites were loaded with valuable aromatic goods; supplies of grain and manufactured goods were purchased at the fairs of Bostra and Damascus; this profitable trade spread abundance and wealth in the streets of Mecca, and the noblest of her sons combined a passion for arms with a career in commerce.

The perpetual independence of the Arabs has been the theme of praise among strangers and natives; and the arts of controversy transform this singular event into a prophecy and a miracle, in favor of the posterity of Ismael. Some exceptions, that can neither be dismissed nor eluded, render this mode of reasoning as indiscreet as it is superfluous; the kingdom of Yemen has been successively subdued by the Abyssinians, the Persians, the sultans of Egypt, and the Turks; the holy cities of Mecca and Medina have repeatedly bowed under a Scythian tyrant; and the Roman province of Arabia embraced the peculiar wilderness in which Ismael and his sons must have pitched their tents in the face of their brethren. Yet these exceptions are temporary or local; the body of the nation has escaped the yoke of the most powerful monarchies: the arms of Sesostris and Cyrus, of Pompey and Trajan, could never achieve the conquest of Arabia; the present sovereign of the Turks may exercise a shadow of jurisdiction, but his pride is reduced to solicit the friendship of a people, whom it is dangerous to provoke, and fruitless to attack. The obvious causes of their freedom are inscribed on the character and country of the Arabs. Many ages before Mahomet, their intrepid valor had been severely felt by their neighbors in offensive and defensive war. The patient and active virtues of a soldier are insensibly nursed in the habits and discipline of a pastoral life. The care of the sheep and camels is abandoned to the women of the tribe; but the martial youth, under the banner of the emir, is ever on horseback, and in the field, to practise the exercise of the bow, the javelin, and the cimeter. The long memory of their independence is the firmest pledge of its perpetuity and succeeding generations are animated to prove their descent, and to maintain their inheritance. Their domestic feuds are suspended on the approach of a common enemy; and in their last hostilities against the Turks, the caravan of Mecca was attacked and pillaged by fourscore thousand of the confederates. When they advance to battle, the hope of victory is in the front; in the rear, the assurance of a retreat. Their horses and camels, who, in eight or ten days, can perform a march of four or five hundred miles, disappear before the conqueror; the secret waters of the desert elude his search, and his victorious troops are consumed with thirst, hunger, and fatigue, in the pursuit of an invisible foe, who scorns his efforts, and safely reposes in the heart of the burning solitude. The arms and deserts of the Bedoweens are not only the safeguards of their own freedom, but the barriers also of the happy Arabia, whose inhabitants, remote from war, are enervated by the luxury of the soil and climate. The legions of Augustus melted away in disease and lassitude; and it is only by a naval power that the reduction of Yemen has been successfully attempted. When Mahomet erected his holy standard, that kingdom was a province of the Persian empire; yet seven princes of the Homerites still reigned in the mountains; and the vicegerent of Chosroes was tempted to forget his distant country and his unfortunate master. The historians of the age of Justinian represent the state of the independent Arabs, who were divided by interest or affection in the long quarrel of the East: the tribe of Gassan was allowed to encamp on the Syrian territory: the princes of Hira were permitted to form a city about forty miles to the southward of the ruins of Babylon. Their service in the field was speedy and vigorous; but their friendship was venal, their faith inconstant, their enmity capricious: it was an easier task to excite than to disarm these roving barbarians; and, in the familiar intercourse of war, they learned to see, and to despise, the splendid weakness both of Rome and of Persia. From Mecca to the Euphrates, the Arabian tribes were confounded by the Greeks and Latins, under the general appellation of Saracens, a name which every Christian mouth has been taught to pronounce with terror and abhorrence.

The ongoing independence of the Arabs has been widely praised by both outsiders and locals, with the arts of debate turning this unique situation into a sort of prophecy and miracle for the descendants of Ishmael. However, there are notable exceptions that can’t be ignored, making this line of reasoning both reckless and unnecessary; the kingdom of Yemen has been conquered by the Abyssinians, the Persians, the sultans of Egypt, and the Turks; the holy cities of Mecca and Medina have often fallen under the rule of a Scythian tyrant; and the Roman province of Arabia included the very wilderness where Ishmael and his sons likely set up their tents among their relatives. Yet, these exceptions are temporary or localized; the core of the nation has avoided the control of the most powerful empires: the armies of Sesostris and Cyrus, Pompey and Trajan, could never conquer Arabia; the current Turkish ruler might exert a mere illusion of authority, but his pride is diminished to the point of seeking the friendship of a people who are dangerous to provoke and pointless to attack. The clear reasons for their freedom are reflected in the character and land of the Arabs. Long before Muhammad, their fearless bravery had been keenly felt by their neighbors in both offensive and defensive warfare. The patience and active virtues of a soldier are naturally developed through the routines and discipline of a pastoral lifestyle. The care of sheep and camels is left to the women of the tribe, while the young men, under the emir's banner, are always on horseback and in the field, practicing their skills with the bow, javelin, and saber. Their long history of independence is the strongest guarantee of its continuity, inspiring future generations to prove their lineage and protect their inheritance. Their internal conflicts pause at the sight of a common enemy; during their last clashes with the Turks, the caravan from Mecca was attacked and looted by eighty thousand allies. As they go into battle, they lead with the hope of victory; behind them lies the certainty of retreat. Their horses and camels, able to cover four or five hundred miles in eight or ten days, vanish before the conqueror; the hidden water sources of the desert elude his grasp, and his victorious troops suffer from thirst, hunger, and exhaustion in pursuit of an unseen enemy, who disregards his efforts and rests safely in the burning desolation. The weaponry and deserts of the Bedouins not only protect their own freedom but also serve as barriers to the blessed Arabia, where the inhabitants, far removed from conflict, have become weakened by the richness of their land and climate. The legions of Augustus succumbed to illness and fatigue; only a naval force was able to successfully attempt the conquest of Yemen. When Muhammad raised his holy standard, that kingdom was part of the Persian Empire; yet seven princes of the Homerites still ruled in the mountains, and the governor of Chosroes was tempted to forget his distant homeland and unfortunate ruler. Historians from the era of Justinian depict the status of the independent Arabs, who were divided by interests or loyalties in the long-standing disputes of the East: the tribe of Gassan was allowed to settle in Syrian territory; the princes of Hira were able to establish a city about forty miles south of the ruins of Babylon. They were quick and vigorous in battle, but their loyalty was bought, their faith unreliable, and their hostility unpredictable: it was easier to incite these wandering tribes than to disarm them, and through their dealings in warfare, they learned to see and disdain the glaring weakness of both Rome and Persia. From Mecca to the Euphrates, the Arabian tribes were grouped together by the Greeks and Latins under the catch-all term Saracens, a name that every Christian has been taught to pronounce with fear and disgust.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part II.

The slaves of domestic tyranny may vainly exult in their national independence: but the Arab is personally free; and he enjoys, in some degree, the benefits of society, without forfeiting the prerogatives of nature. In every tribe, superstition, or gratitude, or fortune, has exalted a particular family above the heads of their equals. The dignities of sheick and emir invariably descend in this chosen race; but the order of succession is loose and precarious; and the most worthy or aged of the noble kinsmen are preferred to the simple, though important, office of composing disputes by their advice, and guiding valor by their example. Even a female of sense and spirit has been permitted to command the countrymen of Zenobia. The momentary junction of several tribes produces an army: their more lasting union constitutes a nation; and the supreme chief, the emir of emirs, whose banner is displayed at their head, may deserve, in the eyes of strangers, the honors of the kingly name. If the Arabian princes abuse their power, they are quickly punished by the desertion of their subjects, who had been accustomed to a mild and parental jurisdiction. Their spirit is free, their steps are unconfined, the desert is open, and the tribes and families are held together by a mutual and voluntary compact. The softer natives of Yemen supported the pomp and majesty of a monarch; but if he could not leave his palace without endangering his life, the active powers of government must have been devolved on his nobles and magistrates. The cities of Mecca and Medina present, in the heart of Asia, the form, or rather the substance, of a commonwealth. The grandfather of Mahomet, and his lineal ancestors, appear in foreign and domestic transactions as the princes of their country; but they reigned, like Pericles at Athens, or the Medici at Florence, by the opinion of their wisdom and integrity; their influence was divided with their patrimony; and the sceptre was transferred from the uncles of the prophet to a younger branch of the tribe of Koreish. On solemn occasions they convened the assembly of the people; and, since mankind must be either compelled or persuaded to obey, the use and reputation of oratory among the ancient Arabs is the clearest evidence of public freedom. But their simple freedom was of a very different cast from the nice and artificial machinery of the Greek and Roman republics, in which each member possessed an undivided share of the civil and political rights of the community. In the more simple state of the Arabs, the nation is free, because each of her sons disdains a base submission to the will of a master. His breast is fortified by the austere virtues of courage, patience, and sobriety; the love of independence prompts him to exercise the habits of self-command; and the fear of dishonor guards him from the meaner apprehension of pain, of danger, and of death. The gravity and firmness of the mind is conspicuous in his outward demeanor; his speech is low, weighty, and concise; he is seldom provoked to laughter; his only gesture is that of stroking his beard, the venerable symbol of manhood; and the sense of his own importance teaches him to accost his equals without levity, and his superiors without awe. The liberty of the Saracens survived their conquests: the first caliphs indulged the bold and familiar language of their subjects; they ascended the pulpit to persuade and edify the congregation; nor was it before the seat of empire was removed to the Tigris, that the Abbasides adopted the proud and pompous ceremonial of the Persian and Byzantine courts.

The slaves of domestic oppression may mistakenly celebrate their national independence, but the Arab is personally free; he enjoys, to some extent, the benefits of society without giving up his natural rights. In every tribe, superstition, gratitude, or luck has elevated a specific family above their peers. The titles of sheick and emir consistently pass down within this selected group; however, the line of succession is loose and uncertain, with the most deserving or oldest noble relatives favored for the important role of settling disputes through their advice and guiding courage through their example. Even a capable and spirited woman has been allowed to lead the people of Zenobia. The temporary union of several tribes creates an army; their more lasting alliance forms a nation; and the supreme leader, the emir of emirs, whose banner is shown at their forefront, may, in the eyes of outsiders, deserve the title of king. If the Arabian princes misuse their power, they are quickly punished by the departure of their subjects, who were used to a gentle and caring rule. Their spirit is free, their movements are unrestricted, the desert is open, and the tribes and families are connected by a mutual and voluntary agreement. The gentler natives of Yemen supported the grandeur and authority of a monarch; but if he could not leave his palace without risking his life, the actual powers of government must have been handed over to his nobles and officials. The cities of Mecca and Medina display, in the heart of Asia, the form, or rather the essence, of a commonwealth. The grandfather of Muhammad and his direct ancestors acted in both foreign and domestic affairs as the rulers of their land; but they reigned, similar to Pericles in Athens or the Medici in Florence, by the reputation of their wisdom and integrity; their influence was shared with their inheritance, and the power shifted from the prophet's uncles to a younger branch of the Koreish tribe. On significant occasions, they gathered the people's assembly; and since humans must either be coerced or persuaded to follow, the skill and reputation of oratory among the ancient Arabs are clear evidence of public freedom. However, their straightforward freedom was very different from the complex and artificial systems of the Greek and Roman republics, where each member had an equal share of the civil and political rights of the community. In the simpler society of the Arabs, the nation is free because each of its sons rejects a submissive attitude toward a master. His spirit is strengthened by the strict virtues of courage, patience, and self-control; the desire for independence encourages him to practice self-discipline; and the fear of dishonor protects him from the lesser fears of pain, danger, and death. His seriousness and mental strength are evident in his outward behavior; his speech is quiet, weighty, and to the point; he is rarely driven to laughter; his only gesture is stroking his beard, the respected symbol of manhood; and his awareness of his own importance allows him to speak to his equals without frivolity and to his superiors without fear. The freedom of the Saracens continued after their conquests: the first caliphs used the bold and familiar language of their subjects; they took to the pulpit to persuade and educate the crowd; and it wasn't until the seat of the empire was moved to the Tigris that the Abbasids adopted the grand and ostentatious rituals of the Persian and Byzantine courts.

In the study of nations and men, we may observe the causes that render them hostile or friendly to each other, that tend to narrow or enlarge, to mollify or exasperate, the social character. The separation of the Arabs from the rest of mankind has accustomed them to confound the ideas of stranger and enemy; and the poverty of the land has introduced a maxim of jurisprudence, which they believe and practise to the present hour. They pretend, that, in the division of the earth, the rich and fertile climates were assigned to the other branches of the human family; and that the posterity of the outlaw Ismael might recover, by fraud or force, the portion of inheritance of which he had been unjustly deprived. According to the remark of Pliny, the Arabian tribes are equally addicted to theft and merchandise; the caravans that traverse the desert are ransomed or pillaged; and their neighbors, since the remote times of Job and Sesostris, have been the victims of their rapacious spirit. If a Bedoween discovers from afar a solitary traveller, he rides furiously against him, crying, with a loud voice, "Undress thyself, thy aunt (my wife) is without a garment." A ready submission entitles him to mercy; resistance will provoke the aggressor, and his own blood must expiate the blood which he presumes to shed in legitimate defence. A single robber, or a few associates, are branded with their genuine name; but the exploits of a numerous band assume the character of lawful and honorable war. The temper of a people thus armed against mankind was doubly inflamed by the domestic license of rapine, murder, and revenge. In the constitution of Europe, the right of peace and war is now confined to a small, and the actual exercise to a much smaller, list of respectable potentates; but each Arab, with impunity and renown, might point his javelin against the life of his countrymen. The union of the nation consisted only in a vague resemblance of language and manners; and in each community, the jurisdiction of the magistrate was mute and impotent. Of the time of ignorance which preceded Mahomet, seventeen hundred battles are recorded by tradition: hostility was imbittered with the rancor of civil faction; and the recital, in prose or verse, of an obsolete feud, was sufficient to rekindle the same passions among the descendants of the hostile tribes. In private life every man, at least every family, was the judge and avenger of his own cause. The nice sensibility of honor, which weighs the insult rather than the injury, sheds its deadly venom on the quarrels of the Arabs: the honor of their women, and of their beards, is most easily wounded; an indecent action, a contemptuous word, can be expiated only by the blood of the offender; and such is their patient inveteracy, that they expect whole months and years the opportunity of revenge. A fine or compensation for murder is familiar to the Barbarians of every age: but in Arabia the kinsmen of the dead are at liberty to accept the atonement, or to exercise with their own hands the law of retaliation. The refined malice of the Arabs refuses even the head of the murderer, substitutes an innocent for the guilty person, and transfers the penalty to the best and most considerable of the race by whom they have been injured. If he falls by their hands, they are exposed, in their turn, to the danger of reprisals, the interest and principal of the bloody debt are accumulated: the individuals of either family lead a life of malice and suspicion, and fifty years may sometimes elapse before the account of vengeance be finally settled. This sanguinary spirit, ignorant of pity or forgiveness, has been moderated, however, by the maxims of honor, which require in every private encounter some decent equality of age and strength, of numbers and weapons. An annual festival of two, perhaps of four, months, was observed by the Arabs before the time of Mahomet, during which their swords were religiously sheathed both in foreign and domestic hostility; and this partial truce is more strongly expressive of the habits of anarchy and warfare.

In studying nations and people, we can see the reasons that make them hostile or friendly to each other, which tend to narrow or expand, soften or irritate, their social character. The separation of the Arabs from the rest of humanity has led them to confuse the ideas of stranger and enemy; and the poverty of the land has introduced a principle of law that they still believe and practice today. They claim that in the division of the earth, the rich and fertile places were given to other groups of humanity; and that the descendants of the outlaw Ismael might recover, through deceit or force, the share of inheritance they believe was unjustly taken from them. As Pliny noted, the Arabian tribes are equally inclined towards theft and trade; the caravans crossing the desert are either ransomed or plundered; and their neighbors, since the ancient times of Job and Sesostris, have suffered from their greedy nature. If a Bedouin spots a lone traveler from afar, he charges at him, shouting loudly, "Strip down, your aunt (my wife) is without clothes." Submission earns him mercy; resistance incites aggression, and the attacker’s own blood must atone for the blood he willingly sheds in supposed self-defense. A lone robber or a few accomplices carry their true label; but the feats of a larger group are seen as legitimate and honorable warfare. The mindset of a people thus armed against the world was further inflamed by the constant allowance for robbery, murder, and revenge. In the structure of Europe today, the authority to make war and peace is limited to a small, and the actual exercise confined to an even smaller, number of respected rulers; yet every Arab might freely and famously aim his spear at the lives of his fellow countrymen. The nation’s unity rested merely in a vague similarity of language and customs; and within each community, the power of the magistrate was silent and weak. From the pre-Islamic period, seventeen hundred battles are recorded by tradition: hostilities were poisoned by the bitterness of civil strife; and the retelling, whether in prose or poetry, of an ancient feud could easily rekindle the same passions among the descendants of rival tribes. In private life, each man, or at least each family, acted as the judge and avenger of their own grievances. The intense sensitivity around honor, which considers the insult more than the injury, fuels fierce quarrels among the Arabs: the honor of their women and their beards is easily harmed; an indecent act or a disrespectful word can only be atoned for by the blood of the offender, and their long-held desire for revenge can last months or years. A fine or compensation for murder is common among savages of every age: but in Arabia, the relatives of the deceased can choose to accept compensation or take revenge themselves. The cunning cruelty of the Arabs refuses even the life of the murderer, substitutes an innocent person for the guilty, and directs the punishment towards the most notable and respected individual of the offending family. If they kill him, they risk their own retaliation, and the original debt of blood grows larger: members of both families live in a state of malice and distrust, and it can take fifty years for revenge to be fully settled. This bloody spirit, unfamiliar with mercy or forgiveness, has been tempered, however, by the principles of honor, which demand that in every private conflict there is some decent parity in age, strength, numbers, and weapons. An annual festival lasting two, perhaps four, months was observed by the Arabs before Muhammad's time, during which their swords were religiously sheathed both against foreign and domestic hostilities; and this temporary peace strongly reflects their patterns of anarchy and warfare.

But the spirit of rapine and revenge was attempered by the milder influence of trade and literature. The solitary peninsula is encompassed by the most civilized nations of the ancient world; the merchant is the friend of mankind; and the annual caravans imported the first seeds of knowledge and politeness into the cities, and even the camps of the desert. Whatever may be the pedigree of the Arabs, their language is derived from the same original stock with the Hebrew, the Syriac, and the Chaldæan tongues; the independence of the tribes was marked by their peculiar dialects; but each, after their own, allowed a just preference to the pure and perspicuous idiom of Mecca. In Arabia, as well as in Greece, the perfection of language outstripped the refinement of manners; and her speech could diversify the fourscore names of honey, the two hundred of a serpent, the five hundred of a lion, the thousand of a sword, at a time when this copious dictionary was intrusted to the memory of an illiterate people. The monuments of the Homerites were inscribed with an obsolete and mysterious character; but the Cufic letters, the groundwork of the present alphabet, were invented on the banks of the Euphrates; and the recent invention was taught at Mecca by a stranger who settled in that city after the birth of Mahomet. The arts of grammar, of metre, and of rhetoric, were unknown to the freeborn eloquence of the Arabians; but their penetration was sharp, their fancy luxuriant, their wit strong and sententious, and their more elaborate compositions were addressed with energy and effect to the minds of their hearers. The genius and merit of a rising poet was celebrated by the applause of his own and the kindred tribes. A solemn banquet was prepared, and a chorus of women, striking their tymbals, and displaying the pomp of their nuptials, sung in the presence of their sons and husbands the felicity of their native tribe; that a champion had now appeared to vindicate their rights; that a herald had raised his voice to immortalize their renown. The distant or hostile tribes resorted to an annual fair, which was abolished by the fanaticism of the first Moslems; a national assembly that must have contributed to refine and harmonize the Barbarians. Thirty days were employed in the exchange, not only of corn and wine, but of eloquence and poetry. The prize was disputed by the generous emulation of the bards; the victorious performance was deposited in the archives of princes and emirs; and we may read in our own language, the seven original poems which were inscribed in letters of gold, and suspended in the temple of Mecca. The Arabian poets were the historians and moralists of the age; and if they sympathized with the prejudices, they inspired and crowned the virtues, of their countrymen. The indissoluble union of generosity and valor was the darling theme of their song; and when they pointed their keenest satire against a despicable race, they affirmed, in the bitterness of reproach, that the men knew not how to give, nor the women to deny. The same hospitality, which was practised by Abraham, and celebrated by Homer, is still renewed in the camps of the Arabs. The ferocious Bedoweens, the terror of the desert, embrace, without inquiry or hesitation, the stranger who dares to confide in their honor and to enter their tent. His treatment is kind and respectful: he shares the wealth, or the poverty, of his host; and, after a needful repose, he is dismissed on his way, with thanks, with blessings, and perhaps with gifts. The heart and hand are more largely expanded by the wants of a brother or a friend; but the heroic acts that could deserve the public applause, must have surpassed the narrow measure of discretion and experience. A dispute had arisen, who, among the citizens of Mecca, was entitled to the prize of generosity; and a successive application was made to the three who were deemed most worthy of the trial. Abdallah, the son of Abbas, had undertaken a distant journey, and his foot was in the stirrup when he heard the voice of a suppliant, "O son of the uncle of the apostle of God, I am a traveller, and in distress!" He instantly dismounted to present the pilgrim with his camel, her rich caparison, and a purse of four thousand pieces of gold, excepting only the sword, either for its intrinsic value, or as the gift of an honored kinsman. The servant of Kais informed the second suppliant that his master was asleep: but he immediately added, "Here is a purse of seven thousand pieces of gold, (it is all we have in the house,) and here is an order, that will entitle you to a camel and a slave;" the master, as soon as he awoke, praised and enfranchised his faithful steward, with a gentle reproof, that by respecting his slumbers he had stinted his bounty. The third of these heroes, the blind Arabah, at the hour of prayer, was supporting his steps on the shoulders of two slaves. "Alas!" he replied, "my coffers are empty! but these you may sell; if you refuse, I renounce them." At these words, pushing away the youths, he groped along the wall with his staff. The character of Hatem is the perfect model of Arabian virtue: he was brave and liberal, an eloquent poet, and a successful robber; forty camels were roasted at his hospitable feast; and at the prayer of a suppliant enemy he restored both the captives and the spoil. The freedom of his countrymen disdained the laws of justice; they proudly indulged the spontaneous impulse of pity and benevolence.

But the spirit of stealing and revenge was tempered by the gentler influence of trade and literature. The isolated peninsula is surrounded by the most civilized nations of the ancient world; the merchant is a friend to humanity; and the yearly caravans brought the first seeds of knowledge and courtesy into the cities, and even the camps of the desert. Regardless of the lineage of the Arabs, their language comes from the same original roots as Hebrew, Syriac, and Chaldean languages; the independence of the tribes was marked by their unique dialects; but each, in their own way, showed a clear preference for the pure and clear language of Mecca. In Arabia, just like in Greece, the perfection of language exceeded the refinement of manners; and their vocabulary could differentiate the eighty names of honey, the two hundred for a serpent, the five hundred for a lion, and the thousand for a sword, at a time when this extensive dictionary was entrusted to the memory of an uneducated population. The monuments of the Homerites were carved in an old and mysterious script; but the Cufic letters, which form the basis of the current alphabet, were created by the banks of the Euphrates; and this recent invention was taught in Mecca by a stranger who settled there after Muhammad was born. The arts of grammar, meter, and rhetoric were unknown to the natural eloquence of the Arabs; but their insight was sharp, their imagination rich, their wit strong and pointed, and their more complex compositions were delivered with vigor and impact to their audience. The talent and achievements of an emerging poet were celebrated with the applause of his tribe and related tribes. A grand feast was prepared, and a group of women, striking their drums and showcasing the splendor of their weddings, sang in front of their sons and husbands about the joy of their native tribe; that a champion had appeared to defend their rights; that a herald had raised his voice to immortalize their glory. Distant or rival tribes gathered at an annual fair, which was ended by the fanaticism of the early Muslims; a national assembly that must have helped to refine and unify the Barbarians. Thirty days were spent exchanging not only grain and wine but also eloquence and poetry. The prize was competed for with noble rivalry among the poets; the winning entry was stored in the archives of princes and emirs; and we can read in our own language the seven original poems that were written in gold letters and hung in the temple of Mecca. The Arabian poets were the historians and moralists of their time; and while they shared in the biases, they inspired and celebrated the virtues of their people. The unbreakable bond of generosity and courage was the favorite theme of their songs; and when they directed their sharpest criticism against a despicable group, they asserted, in a bitter reproach, that the men didn't know how to give, nor the women how to refuse. The same hospitality that was practiced by Abraham and celebrated by Homer is still shown in the camps of the Arabs. The fierce Bedouins, the terror of the desert, welcome, without question or hesitation, the stranger who dares to trust their honor and enter their tent. His treatment is kind and respectful: he shares the wealth, or the poverty, of his host; and after a much-needed rest, he is sent on his way, with thanks, blessings, and perhaps gifts. The heart and hand are more generously opened by the needs of a brother or a friend; but the heroic acts worthy of public applause must have gone beyond the narrow limits of caution and experience. A disagreement arose about who, among the citizens of Mecca, should receive the prize for generosity; and a series of appeals were made to the three individuals considered most deserving of the trial. Abdallah, the son of Abbas, had set off on a long journey, and his foot was in the stirrup when he heard the call of a beggar, "O son of the uncle of the apostle of God, I am a traveler, and in distress!" He immediately got off his horse to give the traveler his camel, her fine adornment, and a purse with four thousand gold coins, keeping only the sword, either for its value or as a gift from a respected relative. The servant of Kais told the second beggar that his master was asleep: but he quickly added, "Here is a purse with seven thousand gold coins (it's all we have in the house), and here is an order that will give you a camel and a slave;" the master, as soon as he awoke, praised and freed his loyal steward, gently chiding him for respecting his slumber at the cost of his generosity. The third of these heroes, the blind Arabah, was, at the time of prayer, being supported by two slaves. "Alas!" he replied, "my coffers are empty! But these you may sell; if you refuse, I renounce them." At these words, pushing the youths away, he groped along the wall with his staff. The character of Hatem is the perfect example of Arabian virtue: he was brave and generous, an eloquent poet, and a successful robber; forty camels were roasted at his hospitable feast; and at the request of a begging enemy, he returned both the captives and the plunder. The freedom of his fellow countrymen overlooked the laws of justice; they proudly indulged the natural impulse of kindness and generosity.

The religion of the Arabs, as well as of the Indians, consisted in the worship of the sun, the moon, and the fixed stars; a primitive and specious mode of superstition. The bright luminaries of the sky display the visible image of a Deity: their number and distance convey to a philosophic, or even a vulgar, eye, the idea of boundless space: the character of eternity is marked on these solid globes, that seem incapable of corruption or decay: the regularity of their motions may be ascribed to a principle of reason or instinct; and their real, or imaginary, influence encourages the vain belief that the earth and its inhabitants are the object of their peculiar care. The science of astronomy was cultivated at Babylon; but the school of the Arabs was a clear firmament and a naked plain. In their nocturnal marches, they steered by the guidance of the stars: their names, and order, and daily station, were familiar to the curiosity and devotion of the Bedoween; and he was taught by experience to divide, in twenty-eight parts, the zodiac of the moon, and to bless the constellations who refreshed, with salutary rains, the thirst of the desert. The reign of the heavenly orbs could not be extended beyond the visible sphere; and some metaphysical powers were necessary to sustain the transmigration of souls and the resurrection of bodies: a camel was left to perish on the grave, that he might serve his master in another life; and the invocation of departed spirits implies that they were still endowed with consciousness and power. I am ignorant, and I am careless, of the blind mythology of the Barbarians; of the local deities, of the stars, the air, and the earth, of their sex or titles, their attributes or subordination. Each tribe, each family, each independent warrior, created and changed the rites and the object of his fantastic worship; but the nation, in every age, has bowed to the religion, as well as to the language, of Mecca. The genuine antiquity of the Caaba ascends beyond the Christian æra; in describing the coast of the Red Sea, the Greek historian Diodorus has remarked, between the Thamudites and the Sabæans, a famous temple, whose superior sanctity was revered by all the Arabians; the linen or silken veil, which is annually renewed by the Turkish emperor, was first offered by a pious king of the Homerites, who reigned seven hundred years before the time of Mahomet. A tent, or a cavern, might suffice for the worship of the savages, but an edifice of stone and clay has been erected in its place; and the art and power of the monarchs of the East have been confined to the simplicity of the original model. A spacious portico encloses the quadrangle of the Caaba; a square chapel, twenty-four cubits long, twenty-three broad, and twenty-seven high: a door and a window admit the light; the double roof is supported by three pillars of wood; a spout (now of gold) discharges the rain-water, and the well Zemzen is protected by a dome from accidental pollution. The tribe of Koreish, by fraud and force, had acquired the custody of the Caaba: the sacerdotal office devolved through four lineal descents to the grandfather of Mahomet; and the family of the Hashemites, from whence he sprung, was the most respectable and sacred in the eyes of their country. The precincts of Mecca enjoyed the rights of sanctuary; and, in the last month of each year, the city and the temple were crowded with a long train of pilgrims, who presented their vows and offerings in the house of God. The same rites which are now accomplished by the faithful Mussulman, were invented and practised by the superstition of the idolaters. At an awful distance they cast away their garments: seven times, with hasty steps, they encircled the Caaba, and kissed the black stone: seven times they visited and adored the adjacent mountains; seven times they threw stones into the valley of Mina; and the pilgrimage was achieved, as at the present hour, by a sacrifice of sheep and camels, and the burial of their hair and nails in the consecrated ground. Each tribe either found or introduced in the Caaba their domestic worship: the temple was adorned, or defiled, with three hundred and sixty idols of men, eagles, lions, and antelopes; and most conspicuous was the statue of Hebal, of red agate, holding in his hand seven arrows, without heads or feathers, the instruments and symbols of profane divination. But this statue was a monument of Syrian arts: the devotion of the ruder ages was content with a pillar or a tablet; and the rocks of the desert were hewn into gods or altars, in imitation of the black stone of Mecca, which is deeply tainted with the reproach of an idolatrous origin. From Japan to Peru, the use of sacrifice has universally prevailed; and the votary has expressed his gratitude, or fear, by destroying or consuming, in honor of the gods, the dearest and most precious of their gifts. The life of a man is the most precious oblation to deprecate a public calamity: the altars of Phœnicia and Egypt, of Rome and Carthage, have been polluted with human gore: the cruel practice was long preserved among the Arabs; in the third century, a boy was annually sacrificed by the tribe of the Dumatians; and a royal captive was piously slaughtered by the prince of the Saracens, the ally and soldier of the emperor Justinian. A parent who drags his son to the altar, exhibits the most painful and sublime effort of fanaticism: the deed, or the intention, was sanctified by the example of saints and heroes; and the father of Mahomet himself was devoted by a rash vow, and hardly ransomed for the equivalent of a hundred camels. In the time of ignorance, the Arabs, like the Jews and Egyptians, abstained from the taste of swine's flesh; they circumcised their children at the age of puberty: the same customs, without the censure or the precept of the Koran, have been silently transmitted to their posterity and proselytes. It has been sagaciously conjectured, that the artful legislator indulged the stubborn prejudices of his countrymen. It is more simple to believe that he adhered to the habits and opinions of his youth, without foreseeing that a practice congenial to the climate of Mecca might become useless or inconvenient on the banks of the Danube or the Volga.

The religion of the Arabs, like that of the Indians, revolved around the worship of the sun, moon, and stars; a primitive yet appealing form of superstition. The bright bodies in the sky represent a visible image of a deity: their number and distance suggest to both the philosophical and the everyday person the concept of infinite space: the eternity of these solid spheres is apparent, as they seem immune to decay or deterioration. The regularity of their movements could be attributed to reason or instinct, and their real or perceived influence fosters the misguided belief that the earth and its inhabitants are their special concern. Astronomy was studied in Babylon, but for the Arabs, the sky was a clear canvas and a flat landscape. During their nighttime travels, they navigated by the stars: their names, positions, and daily paths were well-known among the Bedouins, who learned to divide the moon’s zodiac into twenty-eight parts and to honor the constellations that brought beneficial rains to the thirsty desert. The reign of celestial bodies didn’t extend beyond the visible sky, and some abstract powers were needed to support beliefs in reincarnation and resurrection: a camel would be left to perish at a grave so it could serve its master in the afterlife; and invoking the spirits of the dead suggests that they retained awareness and power. I am unaware and indifferent to the misguided mythology of these tribes; to their local deities connected to the stars, air, and earth, their genders or names, their traits or hierarchy. Each tribe, family, and independent warrior created and altered the rituals and objects of their whimsical worship; yet throughout time, the nation has submitted to the religion, as well as the language, of Mecca. The true antiquity of the Kaaba predates the Christian era; when describing the Red Sea coast, the Greek historian Diodorus noted a famous temple held in high esteem by all Arabs, located between the Thamudites and Sabæans; the linen or silk covering that is annually replaced by the Turkish emperor was first presented by a pious ruler of the Homerites, who reigned seven hundred years before Muhammad. A tent or cave might have sufficed for the worship of these early peoples, but a structure of stone and clay has taken its place; and the art and power of Eastern monarchs have been limited to the simplicity of the original design. A large portico surrounds the courtyard of the Kaaba; a square chapel, twenty-four cubits long, twenty-three wide, and twenty-seven high: a door and a window let in light; its double roof rests on three wooden pillars; a spout (now made of gold) drains rainwater, and the Zamzam well is shielded by a dome to prevent contamination. The Koreish tribe gained control of the Kaaba through deceit and force: the priestly role passed down through four generations to Muhammad's grandfather; and the Hashemite family, from which he descended, was the most respected and revered in their land. The precincts of Mecca had sanctuary rights; and during the last month of each year, the city and the temple were filled with long lines of pilgrims presenting their vows and offerings in the house of God. The same rituals performed by modern Muslims were originally created and practiced by the superstitions of idol worshippers. At a solemn distance, they would cast off their garments: seven times, they would quickly circle the Kaaba and kiss the black stone: seven times they would visit and worship the nearby mountains; seven times they would throw stones into the valley of Mina; and the pilgrimage was completed, just as it is today, with sacrifices of sheep and camels, and burial of their hair and nails in sacred ground. Each tribe brought or introduced its domestic practices at the Kaaba: the temple was adorned, or desecrated, with three hundred and sixty idols depicting men, eagles, lions, and antelopes; and the most prominent was the statue of Hebal, made of red agate, holding seven unheaded and unfeathered arrows, which were tools and symbols of profane divination. This statue was a remnant of Syrian artistry: the devotion of earlier ages was satisfied with a pillar or tablet; and the desert rocks were carved into gods or altars, mimicking the black stone of Mecca, which carries the stain of an idolatrous origin. From Japan to Peru, the practice of sacrifice has been widespread; and devotees have shown their gratitude or fear by destroying or consuming, in honor of the gods, their most cherished gifts. A person's life is the most valuable offering to avert disaster: the altars of Phoenicia and Egypt, Rome and Carthage, have been stained with human blood: this brutal practice persisted among the Arabs; in the third century, a boy was sacrificed annually by the Dumatians; and a royal captive was ritually killed by the Saracen prince, an ally and soldier of Emperor Justinian. A parent who drags their child to the altar represents the most tragic and profound manifestation of fanaticism: the act, or intent, was justified by examples of saints and heroes; and Muhammad’s father himself was pledged by a reckless vow, only narrowly redeemed for the price of a hundred camels. In the era of ignorance, the Arabs, like the Jews and Egyptians, avoided eating pork; they circumcised their children at puberty: these same customs have been quietly carried on to their descendants and converts without any reproach or directive from the Quran. It has been wisely speculated that the shrewd legislator indulged his countrymen's stubborn biases. It’s easier to believe that he followed the customs and beliefs of his youth, not anticipating that practices appropriate to the climate of Mecca might become impractical elsewhere, like along the Danube or the Volga.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part III.

Arabia was free: the adjacent kingdoms were shaken by the storms of conquest and tyranny, and the persecuted sects fled to the happy land where they might profess what they thought, and practise what they professed. The religions of the Sabians and Magians, of the Jews and Christians, were disseminated from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. In a remote period of antiquity, Sabianism was diffused over Asia by the science of the Chaldæans and the arms of the Assyrians. From the observations of two thousand years, the priests and astronomers of Babylon deduced the eternal laws of nature and providence. They adored the seven gods or angels, who directed the course of the seven planets, and shed their irresistible influence on the earth. The attributes of the seven planets, with the twelve signs of the zodiac, and the twenty-four constellations of the northern and southern hemisphere, were represented by images and talismans; the seven days of the week were dedicated to their respective deities; the Sabians prayed thrice each day; and the temple of the moon at Haran was the term of their pilgrimage. But the flexible genius of their faith was always ready either to teach or to learn: in the tradition of the creation, the deluge, and the patriarchs, they held a singular agreement with their Jewish captives; they appealed to the secret books of Adam, Seth, and Enoch; and a slight infusion of the gospel has transformed the last remnant of the Polytheists into the Christians of St. John, in the territory of Bassora. The altars of Babylon were overturned by the Magians; but the injuries of the Sabians were revenged by the sword of Alexander; Persia groaned above five hundred years under a foreign yoke; and the purest disciples of Zoroaster escaped from the contagion of idolatry, and breathed with their adversaries the freedom of the desert. Seven hundred years before the death of Mahomet, the Jews were settled in Arabia; and a far greater multitude was expelled from the Holy Land in the wars of Titus and Hadrian. The industrious exiles aspired to liberty and power: they erected synagogues in the cities, and castles in the wilderness, and their Gentile converts were confounded with the children of Israel, whom they resembled in the outward mark of circumcision. The Christian missionaries were still more active and successful: the Catholics asserted their universal reign; the sects whom they oppressed, successively retired beyond the limits of the Roman empire; the Marcionites and Manichæans dispersed their fantastic opinions and apocryphal gospels; the churches of Yemen, and the princes of Hira and Gassan, were instructed in a purer creed by the Jacobite and Nestorian bishops. The liberty of choice was presented to the tribes: each Arab was free to elect or to compose his private religion: and the rude superstition of his house was mingled with the sublime theology of saints and philosophers. A fundamental article of faith was inculcated by the consent of the learned strangers; the existence of one supreme God who is exalted above the powers of heaven and earth, but who has often revealed himself to mankind by the ministry of his angels and prophets, and whose grace or justice has interrupted, by seasonable miracles, the order of nature. The most rational of the Arabs acknowledged his power, though they neglected his worship; and it was habit rather than conviction that still attached them to the relics of idolatry. The Jews and Christians were the people of the Book; the Bible was already translated into the Arabic language, and the volume of the Old Testament was accepted by the concord of these implacable enemies. In the story of the Hebrew patriarchs, the Arabs were pleased to discover the fathers of their nation. They applauded the birth and promises of Ismael; revered the faith and virtue of Abraham; traced his pedigree and their own to the creation of the first man, and imbibed, with equal credulity, the prodigies of the holy text, and the dreams and traditions of the Jewish rabbis.

Arabia was free: the neighboring kingdoms were rocked by conquest and tyranny, and the persecuted groups fled to this fortunate land where they could express their beliefs and practice their faith. The religions of the Sabians and Magians, along with Judaism and Christianity, spread from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. Long ago, Sabianism became widespread in Asia through the knowledge of the Chaldeans and the strength of the Assyrians. From two thousand years of observations, the priests and astronomers of Babylon figured out the eternal laws of nature and divine intervention. They worshiped the seven gods or angels that governed the movement of the seven planets and influenced the earth. The attributes of the seven planets, the twelve signs of the zodiac, and the twenty-four constellations in the northern and southern skies were symbolized by images and amulets; the seven days of the week were dedicated to their respective deities; the Sabians prayed three times a day, and the temple of the moon at Haran was their pilgrimage destination. Yet, the adaptable nature of their faith was always open to teaching or learning: in their beliefs about creation, the flood, and the patriarchs, they found common ground with their Jewish captives; they referenced the secret writings of Adam, Seth, and Enoch; and a slight infusion of the gospel transformed the last remnant of polytheists into the Christians of St. John in the region of Bassora. The Magians toppled the altars of Babylon; however, the Sabians avenged their wrongs with the sword of Alexander. Persia endured five hundred years of foreign rule; and the most devoted followers of Zoroaster escaped the taint of idolatry, finding freedom amidst their opponents in the desert. Seven hundred years before Muhammad's death, Jews had settled in Arabia, and an even larger group was expelled from the Holy Land during the wars of Titus and Hadrian. The determined exiles sought liberty and power: they built synagogues in the cities and fortresses in the wilderness, and their Gentile converts were indistinguishable from the children of Israel due to the shared practice of circumcision. Christian missionaries were even more active and successful: Catholics claimed universal authority; those sects they persecuted gradually retreated beyond the borders of the Roman Empire; the Marcionites and Manichaeans spread their bizarre beliefs and apocryphal gospels; the churches of Yemen and the rulers of Hira and Gassan learned a purer doctrine from Jacobite and Nestorian bishops. The freedom to choose was offered to the tribes: every Arab could select or create their own religion, blending their family's simple superstitions with the profound theology of saints and philosophers. A core belief was emphasized by the agreement of learned outsiders: the existence of one supreme God, elevated above the forces of heaven and earth, who has often revealed himself to humanity through angels and prophets, and whose grace or justice has intervened in the natural order through timely miracles. The most rational Arabs acknowledged His power, even if they disregarded His worship; their attachment to the remnants of idolatry was more about habit than conviction. The Jews and Christians were the people of the Book; the Bible was already translated into Arabic, and the Old Testament was accepted through the agreement of these relentless foes. In the stories of the Hebrew patriarchs, the Arabs were pleased to recognize the founders of their nation. They celebrated the birth and promises of Ishmael, revered the faith and virtue of Abraham, traced their lineage, along with his, back to the creation of the first man, and accepted, with equal gullibility, the wonders of the holy text, as well as the dreams and traditions of the Jewish rabbis.

The base and plebeian origin of Mahomet is an unskilful calumny of the Christians, who exalt instead of degrading the merit of their adversary. His descent from Ismael was a national privilege or fable; but if the first steps of the pedigree are dark and doubtful, he could produce many generations of pure and genuine nobility: he sprung from the tribe of Koreish and the family of Hashem, the most illustrious of the Arabs, the princes of Mecca, and the hereditary guardians of the Caaba. The grandfather of Mahomet was Abdol Motalleb, the son of Hashem, a wealthy and generous citizen, who relieved the distress of famine with the supplies of commerce. Mecca, which had been fed by the liberality of the father, was saved by the courage of the son. The kingdom of Yemen was subject to the Christian princes of Abyssinia; their vassal Abrahah was provoked by an insult to avenge the honor of the cross; and the holy city was invested by a train of elephants and an army of Africans. A treaty was proposed; and, in the first audience, the grandfather of Mahomet demanded the restitution of his cattle. "And why," said Abrahah, "do you not rather implore my clemency in favor of your temple, which I have threatened to destroy?" "Because," replied the intrepid chief, "the cattle is my own; the Caaba belongs to the gods, and they will defend their house from injury and sacrilege." The want of provisions, or the valor of the Koreish, compelled the Abyssinians to a disgraceful retreat: their discomfiture has been adorned with a miraculous flight of birds, who showered down stones on the heads of the infidels; and the deliverance was long commemorated by the æra of the elephant. The glory of Abdol Motalleb was crowned with domestic happiness; his life was prolonged to the age of one hundred and ten years; and he became the father of six daughters and thirteen sons. His best beloved Abdallah was the most beautiful and modest of the Arabian youth; and in the first night, when he consummated his marriage with Amina, of the noble race of the Zahrites, two hundred virgins are said to have expired of jealousy and despair. Mahomet, or more properly Mohammed, the only son of Abdallah and Amina, was born at Mecca, four years after the death of Justinian, and two months after the defeat of the Abyssinians, whose victory would have introduced into the Caaba the religion of the Christians. In his early infancy, he was deprived of his father, his mother, and his grandfather; his uncles were strong and numerous; and, in the division of the inheritance, the orphan's share was reduced to five camels and an Æthiopian maid-servant. At home and abroad, in peace and war, Abu Taleb, the most respectable of his uncles, was the guide and guardian of his youth; in his twenty-fifth year, he entered into the service of Cadijah, a rich and noble widow of Mecca, who soon rewarded his fidelity with the gift of her hand and fortune. The marriage contract, in the simple style of antiquity, recites the mutual love of Mahomet and Cadijah; describes him as the most accomplished of the tribe of Koreish; and stipulates a dowry of twelve ounces of gold and twenty camels, which was supplied by the liberality of his uncle. By this alliance, the son of Abdallah was restored to the station of his ancestors; and the judicious matron was content with his domestic virtues, till, in the fortieth year of his age, he assumed the title of a prophet, and proclaimed the religion of the Koran.

The humble and common origins of Muhammad are a clumsy slander from Christians, who instead of diminishing his worth, actually elevate it. His descent from Ishmael was either a national privilege or a myth; however, even if the early parts of his lineage are obscure and uncertain, he could present many generations of true and genuine nobility: he came from the Quraysh tribe and the Hashem family, the most distinguished among the Arabs, the leaders of Mecca, and the hereditary caretakers of the Kaaba. Muhammad’s grandfather was Abd al-Muttalib, the son of Hashem, a wealthy and generous man who alleviated the suffering caused by famine with supplies from trade. Mecca, which had benefited from the generosity of his father, was defended by the courage of the son. The kingdom of Yemen was under the rule of the Christian princes of Abyssinia; their vassal Abrahah, insulted, sought vengeance for the honor of the cross; and the holy city was besieged by a military force of elephants and African soldiers. A treaty was suggested; and at the first meeting, Muhammad’s grandfather asked for the return of his cattle. "And why," asked Abrahah, "don't you plead for mercy for your temple, which I’ve threatened to destroy?" "Because," replied the fearless chief, "the cattle is mine; the Kaaba belongs to the gods, and they will protect their house from harm and sacrilege." The lack of supplies, or the bravery of the Quraysh, forced the Abyssinians into a humiliating retreat: their defeat was embellished with an extraordinary flight of birds that dropped stones on the heads of the unbelievers; this deliverance was long celebrated as the year of the elephant. Abd al-Muttalib's glory was further enhanced by a happy family life; he lived to the age of one hundred and ten years and fathered six daughters and thirteen sons. His dearest son, Abdullah, was the most handsome and modest young man in Arabia; and on the first night of his marriage to Amina, from the noble Zahrites, it’s said that two hundred virgins died from jealousy and despair. Muhammad, or more correctly Muhammad, the only son of Abdullah and Amina, was born in Mecca, four years after the death of Justinian, and two months following the defeat of the Abyssinians, whose victory would have brought Christian belief to the Kaaba. In his early childhood, he lost his father, mother, and grandfather; his uncles were strong and numerous; and when it came to distributing the inheritance, his share was reduced to five camels and an Ethiopian maidservant. Both at home and in the world, in times of peace and conflict, Abu Talib, the most respected of his uncles, guided and protected him during his youth. At twenty-five, he began working for Khadijah, a wealthy and noble widow of Mecca, who soon rewarded his loyalty with her hand in marriage and her fortune. The marriage contract, in the simple fashion of ancient times, noted the mutual affection between Muhammad and Khadijah, described him as the most accomplished of the Quraysh tribe, and set a dowry of twelve ounces of gold and twenty camels, financed by his uncle’s generosity. Through this marriage, Abdullah’s son regained the status of his ancestors; and the wise matron was satisfied with his domestic qualities until, in his fortieth year, he took on the title of prophet and declared the teachings of the Quran.

According to the tradition of his companions, Mahomet was distinguished by the beauty of his person, an outward gift which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused. Before he spoke, the orator engaged on his side the affections of a public or private audience. They applauded his commanding presence, his majestic aspect, his piercing eye, his gracious smile, his flowing beard, his countenance that painted every sensation of the soul, and his gestures that enforced each expression of the tongue. In the familiar offices of life he scrupulously adhered to the grave and ceremonious politeness of his country: his respectful attention to the rich and powerful was dignified by his condescension and affability to the poorest citizens of Mecca: the frankness of his manner concealed the artifice of his views; and the habits of courtesy were imputed to personal friendship or universal benevolence. His memory was capacious and retentive; his wit easy and social; his imagination sublime; his judgment clear, rapid, and decisive. He possessed the courage both of thought and action; and, although his designs might gradually expand with his success, the first idea which he entertained of his divine mission bears the stamp of an original and superior genius. The son of Abdallah was educated in the bosom of the noblest race, in the use of the purest dialect of Arabia; and the fluency of his speech was corrected and enhanced by the practice of discreet and seasonable silence. With these powers of eloquence, Mahomet was an illiterate Barbarian: his youth had never been instructed in the arts of reading and writing; the common ignorance exempted him from shame or reproach, but he was reduced to a narrow circle of existence, and deprived of those faithful mirrors, which reflect to our mind the minds of sages and heroes. Yet the book of nature and of man was open to his view; and some fancy has been indulged in the political and philosophical observations which are ascribed to the Arabian traveller. He compares the nations and the regions of the earth; discovers the weakness of the Persian and Roman monarchies; beholds, with pity and indignation, the degeneracy of the times; and resolves to unite under one God and one king the invincible spirit and primitive virtues of the Arabs. Our more accurate inquiry will suggest, that, instead of visiting the courts, the camps, the temples, of the East, the two journeys of Mahomet into Syria were confined to the fairs of Bostra and Damascus; that he was only thirteen years of age when he accompanied the caravan of his uncle; and that his duty compelled him to return as soon as he had disposed of the merchandise of Cadijah. In these hasty and superficial excursions, the eye of genius might discern some objects invisible to his grosser companions; some seeds of knowledge might be cast upon a fruitful soil; but his ignorance of the Syriac language must have checked his curiosity; and I cannot perceive, in the life or writings of Mahomet, that his prospect was far extended beyond the limits of the Arabian world. From every region of that solitary world, the pilgrims of Mecca were annually assembled, by the calls of devotion and commerce: in the free concourse of multitudes, a simple citizen, in his native tongue, might study the political state and character of the tribes, the theory and practice of the Jews and Christians. Some useful strangers might be tempted, or forced, to implore the rights of hospitality; and the enemies of Mahomet have named the Jew, the Persian, and the Syrian monk, whom they accuse of lending their secret aid to the composition of the Koran. Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude is the school of genius; and the uniformity of a work denotes the hand of a single artist. From his earliest youth Mahomet was addicted to religious contemplation; each year, during the month of Ramadan, he withdrew from the world, and from the arms of Cadijah: in the cave of Hera, 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 Mahomet is the apostle of God.

According to the tradition of his followers, Muhammad was known for his physical beauty, a quality that is rarely overlooked, except by those who lack it. Before he spoke, the orator captured the attention of both public and private audiences. They admired his commanding presence, majestic appearance, piercing eyes, warm smile, flowing beard, a face that expressed every feeling of the soul, and gestures that emphasized each word. In everyday life, he strictly adhered to the formal politeness of his culture: his respectful attention to the wealthy and powerful was balanced by his kindness and approachability toward the poorest citizens of Mecca. His straightforward demeanor hid the complexity of his intentions, and his polite habits were interpreted as signs of personal friendship or general goodwill. His memory was vast and sharp; he had a natural wit and was sociable; his imagination was lofty; and his judgment was clear, quick, and decisive. He had the courage to think and act; even though his ideas might evolve with his success, the initial vision he had of his divine mission reflected a unique and superior intellect. The son of Abdullah was raised among the noble class, speaking the purest dialect of Arabia, and his fluency was refined by moments of thoughtful silence. Despite his eloquence, Muhammad was an uneducated man: he had not learned to read or write during his youth; this common ignorance spared him from shame or criticism, but it limited his experiences and deprived him of the insights that come from learning about the thoughts of great thinkers and heroes. Still, the book of nature and humanity was open to him, and he is believed to have made some political and philosophical observations during his travels. He compared nations and regions, recognized the weaknesses of the Persian and Roman empires, observed with sadness and anger the decline of society, and decided to unite the enduring spirit and foundational values of the Arabs under one God and one leader. Upon closer examination, it appears that instead of visiting the courts, armies, and temples of the East, Muhammad's two journeys to Syria were limited to the markets of Bostra and Damascus; he was only thirteen when he joined his uncle's caravan; and his responsibilities forced him to return as soon as he sold Khadijah's goods. In these brief and surface-level excursions, a gifted mind might notice things missed by less perceptive companions; some seeds of knowledge may have taken root in fertile ground, but his lack of familiarity with the Syriac language likely stifled his curiosity, and I see no evidence in Muhammad's life or writings that his outlook extended far beyond the Arabian world. Every year, pilgrims from all parts of that isolated world gathered in Mecca driven by religious and commercial motivations; among the throngs of people, a simple citizen could learn about the political situations and characteristics of different tribes, as well as the beliefs and practices of Jews and Christians, in his own language. Some foreign visitors might have been inclined or forced to seek hospitality; and Muhammad's detractors cite a Jew, a Persian, and a Syrian monk, whom they blame for secretly aiding in the creation of the Quran. Conversations can enrich one's understanding, but solitude nurtures genius, and the consistency of a work suggests the influence of a single creator. From a young age, Muhammad was drawn to religious contemplation; each year, during Ramadan, he retreated from the world and from Khadijah's embrace: in the cave of Hira, three miles from Mecca, he sought inspiration from a spirit of deception or fervor that resides not in the heavens but in the mind of a prophet. The faith that he preached to his family and nation, known as Islam, combines an eternal truth with a necessary fiction: that there is only one God, and Muhammad is the messenger of God.

It is the boast of the Jewish apologists, that while the learned nations of antiquity were deluded by the fables of polytheism, their simple ancestors of Palestine preserved the knowledge and worship of the true God. The moral attributes of Jehovah may not easily be reconciled with the standard of human virtue: his metaphysical qualities are darkly expressed; but each page of the Pentateuch and the Prophets is an evidence of his power: the unity of his name is inscribed on the first table of the law; and his sanctuary was never defiled by any visible image of the invisible essence. After the ruin of the temple, the faith of the Hebrew exiles was purified, fixed, and enlightened, by the spiritual devotion of the synagogue; and the authority of Mahomet will not justify his perpetual reproach, that the Jews of Mecca or Medina adored Ezra as the son of God. But the children of Israel had ceased to be a people; and the religions of the world were guilty, at least in the eyes of the prophet, of giving sons, or daughters, or companions, to the supreme God. In the rude idolatry of the Arabs, the crime is manifest and audacious: the Sabians are poorly excused by the preëminence of the first planet, or intelligence, in their celestial hierarchy; and in the Magian system the conflict of the two principles betrays the imperfection of the conqueror. 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 honors of a goddess. The mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation appear to contradict the principle of the divine unity. In their obvious sense, they introduce three equal deities, and transform the man Jesus into the substance of the Son of God: an orthodox commentary will satisfy only a believing mind: intemperate curiosity and zeal had torn the veil of the sanctuary; and each of the Oriental sects was eager to confess that all, except themselves, deserved the reproach of idolatry and polytheism. The creed of Mahomet 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. A philosophic theist might subscribe the popular creed of the Mahometans; a creed too sublime, perhaps, for our present faculties. What object remains for the fancy, or even the understanding, when we have abstracted from the unknown substance all ideas of time and space, of motion and matter, of sensation and reflection? The first principle of reason and revolution was confirmed by the voice of Mahomet: 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 Mahometans; 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.

It’s a point of pride for Jewish defenders that while the educated nations of ancient times were misled by the myths of polytheism, their straightforward ancestors in Palestine held onto the knowledge and worship of the true God. The moral attributes of Jehovah may not easily align with the standard of human virtue: his metaphysical qualities are vaguely articulated; but every page of the Pentateuch and the Prophets serves as evidence of his power: the unity of his name is written on the first tablet of the law; and his sanctuary was never defiled by any visible representation of the invisible essence. After the temple was destroyed, the faith of the Hebrew exiles was refined, solidified, and enlightened through the spiritual devotion of the synagogue; and the authority of Muhammad does not justify his ongoing accusation that the Jews of Mecca or Medina worshipped Ezra as the son of God. However, the children of Israel had ceased to be a people; and, at least in the eyes of the prophet, the religions of the world were guilty of attributing sons, daughters, or partners to the supreme God. In the crude idolatry of the Arabs, the wrongdoing is clear and brazen: the Sabians are poorly defended by the prominence of the first planet, or intelligence, in their celestial hierarchy; and in the Magian system, the conflict between the two principles reveals the conqueror's imperfections. The Christians of the seventh century had gradually lapsed into a version of Paganism: their public and private vows were directed to the relics and images that sullied the temples of the East: the throne of the Almighty was obscured by a cloud of martyrs, saints, and angels, who were the subjects of popular veneration; and the Collyridian heretics, who thrived in the rich soil of Arabia, treated the Virgin Mary as a goddess with a name and honors. The mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation appear to contradict the principle of divine unity. In their most direct interpretation, they introduce three equal deities and turn the man Jesus into the essence of the Son of God: an orthodox explanation will satisfy only those with faith: excessive curiosity and passion have torn the veil of the sanctuary; and each of the Eastern sects was eager to assert that everyone except themselves deserved the accusation of idolatry and polytheism. Muhammad's creed is clear of doubt or ambiguity; and the Quran stands as a glorious testimony to God's unity. The prophet from Mecca dismissed the worship of idols and men, stars and planets, based on the rational principle that whatever rises must fall, that whatever is born must die, that whatever is corruptible must decay and perish. In the Creator of the universe, his rational enthusiasm recognized and worshipped a being that is infinite and eternal, without form or location, without offspring or likeness, present in our most secret thoughts, existing by the necessity of his own nature, and deriving from himself all moral and intellectual perfection. These profound truths, as articulated by the prophet, are firmly embraced by his followers and defined with philosophical precision by the interpreters of the Quran. A philosophical theist might agree with the popular creed of Muslims; a creed that might be too elevated for our current abilities. What remains for imagination, or even understanding, once we strip the unknown substance of all concepts of time and space, motion and matter, sensation and reflection? The foundational principles of reason and revolution were affirmed by Muhammad's words: his followers, from India to Morocco, are known as Unitarians; and the risk of idolatry has been mitigated by the ban on images. The doctrine of eternal decrees and absolute predestination is firmly upheld by Muslims; and they grapple with the same challenges: how to reconcile God's foreknowledge with human freedom and responsibility; how to explain the existence of evil under the reign of infinite power and infinite goodness.

The God of nature has written his existence on all his works, and his law in the heart of man. To restore the knowledge of the one, and the practice of the other, has been the real or pretended aim of the prophets of every age: the liberality of Mahomet 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 period, some rays of prophetic light had been imparted to one hundred and twenty-four thousand of the elect, discriminated by their respective measure of virtue and grace; three hundred and thirteen apostles were sent with a special commission to recall their country from idolatry and vice; one hundred and four volumes have 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 Mahomet, 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 Chaldæa: 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 own belief on the nations whose recent creeds they deride. For the author of Christianity, the Mahometans 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; honorable in this world, and in the world to come, and one of those who approach near to the presence of God." The wonders of the genuine and apocryphal gospels are profusely heaped on his head; and the Latin church has not disdained to borrow from the Koran the immaculate conception of his virgin mother. Yet Jesus was a mere mortal; and, at the day of judgment, his testimony will serve to condemn both the Jews, who reject him as a prophet, and the Christians, who adore him as the Son of God. The malice of his enemies aspersed his reputation, and conspired against his life; but their intention only was guilty; a phantom or a criminal was substituted on the cross; and the innocent saint was translated to the seventh heaven. During six hundred years the gospel was the way of truth and salvation; but the Christians insensibly forgot both the laws and example of their founder; and Mahomet was instructed by the Gnostics to accuse the church, as well as the synagogue, of corrupting the integrity of the sacred text. The piety of Moses and of Christ rejoiced in the assurance of a future prophet, more illustrious than themselves: the evangelical promise of the Paraclete, or Holy Ghost, was prefigured in the name, and accomplished in the person, of Mahomet, the greatest and the last of the apostles of God.

The God of nature has made His existence known through all of His creations, and His law is written in the hearts of humanity. The true or claimed goal of the prophets throughout history has been to restore the understanding of one and the practice of the other. Muhammad's openness allowed those before him to have the same credibility he claimed for himself; the line of inspiration extended from Adam's fall to the publication of the Quran. During this time, some rays of prophetic light were given to 124,000 chosen individuals, each distinguished by their level of virtue and grace; 313 apostles were sent on a special mission to turn their people away from idolatry and immorality; the Holy Spirit inspired 104 volumes; and six extraordinary lawmakers announced to humanity six successive revelations of different practices but one unchanging religion. The authority and status of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Christ, and Muhammad rise in a proper order above each other; however, anyone who hates or rejects any of the prophets is counted among the infidels. The writings of the patriarchs existed only in the apocryphal copies of the Greeks and Syrians; Adam's actions did not earn him the gratitude or respect of his descendants; Noah’s seven commandments were followed by a lesser and imperfect group of converts from the synagogue; and Abraham was only vaguely honored by the Sabians in his homeland of Chaldea. Of the countless prophets, only Moses and Christ lived and ruled; and the rest of the inspired writings are found in the books of the Old and New Testament. The miraculous account of Moses is celebrated and enhanced in the Quran; and the captive Jews secretly take revenge by imposing their beliefs on the nations whose recent faiths they mock. For the author of Christianity, Muslims are taught by the prophet to hold a deep and mysterious respect. "Indeed, Christ Jesus, the son of Mary, is the apostle of God, and His word that He conveyed to Mary, and a Spirit coming from Him; honored in this world and the next, and one of those who are close to the presence of God." The wonders of both the true and apocryphal gospels are abundantly attributed to him; and the Latin church has not hesitated to take from the Quran the idea of the immaculate conception of his virgin mother. Yet Jesus was just a human; and on judgment day, his testimony will condemn both the Jews, who reject him as a prophet, and the Christians, who worship him as the Son of God. The malice of his enemies tarnished his reputation and plotted against his life; yet their intention was the only guilt; a phantom or a criminal was placed on the cross; and the innocent saint was taken to the seventh heaven. For six hundred years, the gospel was the path to truth and salvation; but Christians gradually forgot both the laws and example of their founder; and Muhammad was taught by the Gnostics to accuse both the church and the synagogue of corrupting the sacred text's integrity. The devotion of Moses and Christ welcomed the promise of a future prophet, even greater than themselves: the evangelic promise of the Paraclete, or Holy Ghost, was foreshadowed in the name and fulfilled in the person of Muhammad, the greatest and last of the apostles of God.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part IV.

The communication of ideas requires a similitude of thought and language: the discourse of a philosopher would vibrate without effect on the ear of a peasant; yet how minute is the distance of their understandings, if it be compared with the contact of an infinite and a finite mind, with the word of God expressed by the tongue or the pen of a mortal! 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 Mahomet 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 Mahomet; 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 Mahomet, the sacred volume was collected and published by his friend and successor Abubeker: 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 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 Mahomet 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 Sonna, or oral law, was fixed and consecrated by the labors of Al Bochari, who discriminated seven thousand two hundred and seventy-five genuine traditions, from a mass of three hundred thousand 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 Sonnites.

The exchange of ideas needs a similarity in thought and language: the discussion of a philosopher wouldn’t resonate with the ears of a peasant; yet the gap between their understandings is tiny when compared to the difference between an infinite and a finite mind, especially when it comes to the word of God conveyed by a human's tongue or pen! The inspiration of the Hebrew prophets and the apostles and evangelists of Christ could coexist with the use of their reason and memory; and the distinctiveness of their genius shows clearly in the style and structure of the books of the Old and New Testament. But Muhammad took on a more humble, yet greater role, as a simple editor; according to him and his followers, the essence of the Koran is uncreated and eternal, existing within the nature of the Deity, and inscribed with a pen of light on the tablet of divine decrees. A written copy, made of silk and gems, was sent down to the lowest heaven by the angel Gabriel, who, under the Jewish tradition, had indeed been entrusted with significant missions; and this reliable messenger gradually revealed the chapters and verses to the Arabian prophet. Instead of a continuous and perfect measure of divine will, the parts of the Koran were revealed at Muhammad’s discretion; each revelation fits the needs of his policy or emotions; and any contradictions are resolved by the principle that any passage of scripture can be cancelled or altered by any later verse. The word of God, and of the apostle, was faithfully recorded by his followers on palm leaves and the shoulder bones of sheep; these pages, lacking organization or relation, were thrown into a chest at home, overseen by one of his wives. Two years after Muhammad's death, his friend and successor Abubeker collected and published the sacred text: the work was revised by the caliph Othman in the thirtieth year of the Hegira; and the various versions of the Koran claim the same miraculous quality of a uniform and unaltered text. In a burst of enthusiasm or pride, the prophet bases the truth of his mission on the value of his book; daringly challenges both humans and angels to mimic the beauty of even a single page; and claims that only God could have dictated this unmatched work. This argument is most compelling to a devout Arabian, whose mindset is tuned to faith and joy; whose ears are enchanted by the melody of sounds; and whose ignorance prevents them from comparing the works of human creativity. The elegance and richness of the style won’t resonate, in a translation, with the European skeptic: they will read impatiently through the endless, disjointed mix of fable, instruction, and rhetoric, which rarely stirs emotion or thought, sometimes lingering in the mundane and other times soaring into the abstract. The divine qualities elevate the imagination of the Arabian missionary; but even his loftiest expressions must give way to the profound simplicity of the book of Job, written in a distant time, in the same land, and in the same language. If the creation of the Koran surpasses human capability, to what higher intelligence should we attribute the Iliad of Homer, or the Philippics of Demosthenes? In all belief systems, the life of the founder fills the gaps of their written revelation: the sayings of Muhammad were countless lessons of truth; his actions served as numerous examples of virtue; and his public and private legacies were preserved by his wives and followers. After two hundred years, the Sonna, or oral law, was established and canonized through the efforts of Al Bochari, who identified seven thousand two hundred seventy-five authentic traditions from a collection of three hundred thousand reports, many of which were more questionable or false. Each day, the devout author prayed in the temple of Mecca and completed his ablutions with Zemzem water: the pages were placed in turn on the pulpit and the tomb of the apostle; and the work has received approval from the four orthodox sects of the Sonnites.

The mission of the ancient prophets, of Moses and of Jesus had been confirmed by many splendid prodigies; and Mahomet 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 established, beyond suspicion, the integrity of the Koran. The votaries of Mahomet are more assured than himself of his miraculous gifts; and their confidence and credulity increase as they are farther 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 mansions. Beyond the seventh heaven, Mahomet 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 Caaba, saluted Mahomet 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 Mahomet was not less potent than the rod of Moses.

The mission of the ancient prophets, including Moses and Jesus, was confirmed by many amazing miracles. Mahomet was repeatedly pressured by the people of Mecca and Medina to show similar proof of his divine mission; they wanted him to summon an angel or reveal a scripture from heaven, create a garden in the desert, or start a fire in the unbelieving city. Whenever he faced demands from the Koreish, he fell back on vague claims of visions and prophecies, referenced the internal evidence of his teachings, and defended himself by saying that God withholds signs and wonders to keep the value of faith intact and limit the guilt of disbelief. However, the hesitant or defensive tone of his justifications revealed his insecurities and frustration; these scandals confirmed, beyond doubt, the integrity of the Koran. Followers of Mahomet are often more convinced of his miraculous abilities than he himself is; their confidence and gullibility grow as they move further away from the time and place of his spiritual deeds. They believe or claim that trees came to greet him; that stones greeted him; that water flowed from his fingers; that he fed the hungry, healed the sick, and raised the dead; that a beam groaned for him; that a camel complained to him; that a piece of mutton warned him about its poison; and that both living and non-living things were under the control of God’s messenger. His dream of a night journey is taken seriously as a real physical event. A mysterious creature, the Borak, transported him from the temple in Mecca to the one in Jerusalem: alongside his companion Gabriel, he ascended through the seven heavens, greeting the patriarchs, prophets, and angels in their respective realms. Beyond the seventh heaven, only Mahomet was allowed to continue; he passed the veil of unity, came within two bowshots of the throne, and felt a piercing cold when God’s hand touched his shoulder. After this intimate but significant conversation, he descended to Jerusalem, rode the Borak back to Mecca, completing a journey that would ordinarily take thousands of years in just a part of a night. In another story, the apostle silenced the Koreish’s malicious challenge in a national assembly. His powerful words split the moon in half: the obedient moon descended from the sky, circled the Kaaba seven times, greeted Mahomet in Arabic, and then, suddenly shrinking in size, entered through the collar and exited through the sleeve of his shirt. While ordinary people are entertained by these extraordinary tales, the most respected Muslim scholars mimic their master’s humility and exercise a range of beliefs or interpretations. They might cleverly argue that while promoting the religion, there’s no need to disrupt the natural order; that a straightforward faith doesn’t necessarily need miracles; and that Mahomet's sword was just as effective as Moses's rod.

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 Caaba. But the precepts of Mahomet himself inculcates 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. I. 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 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 fervor, 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 kebla, 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 Astracan, 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 Mahometans 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 is assembled in the mosch; and the imam, some respectable elder, ascends the pulpit, to begin the prayer and pronounce the sermon. But the Mahometan 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. II. 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 Ramadan, 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 Ramadan 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 Mahomet 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. III. The charity of the Mahometans 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. Mahomet, 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 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 forbid 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 polytheist is overwhelmed and distracted by the many superstitions: thousands of rituals from Egyptian culture were mixed with the core of the Mosaic law, and the true spirit of the gospel faded in the elaborate ceremonies of the church. The prophet of Mecca was swayed by bias, strategy, or nationalism to endorse the rituals of the Arabians and the practice of visiting the sacred stone of the Caaba. However, the teachings of Muhammad emphasize a simpler and more rational faith: prayer, fasting, and charity are the religious obligations of a Muslim; he is encouraged to believe that prayer will take him halfway to God, fasting will bring him to the door of His palace, and charity will grant him entry. According to the story of the night journey, the prophet, during his direct conversation with God, was instructed to make the daily obligation for his followers fifty prayers. Following Moses' advice, he sought relief from this overwhelming demand, and the number was gradually reduced to five—without exemptions for work, leisure, time, or place: the faithful pray at dawn, noon, the afternoon, evening, and the first watch of the night. In today’s decline of religious fervor, travelers are impressed by the deep humility and focus of the Turks and Persians. Cleanliness is essential for prayer: frequent washing of the hands, face, and body, a practice held since ancient times by Arabs, is strictly commanded by the Koran; and there is formal permission to use sand when water is scarce. The words and postures of prayer, whether sitting, standing, or lying prostrate, are dictated by tradition or authority, yet the prayer is expressed in brief and passionate outbursts; there is no extensive liturgical fatigue limiting zeal, and each Muslim carries the role of a priest for himself. Among those who reject images, it's necessary to curb distractions by focusing the gaze and thoughts toward a kebla, or visible point in the horizon. Initially, the prophet considered pleasing the Jews by choosing Jerusalem, but he soon reverted to a more natural preference; thus, five times daily, people in Astracan, Fez, and Delhi devoutly face the sacred temple in Mecca. Still, every place is deemed pure for worship: Muslims can pray in their home or on the street as they wish. Unlike Jews and Christians, Friday is designated for the necessary practice of public worship each week: the community gathers in the mosque, and the imam, a respected elder, takes the pulpit to begin the prayer and deliver the sermon. However, the Muslim faith lacks a priesthood or sacrifices, and the independent spirit of fanaticism looks down on priests and the servitude of superstition. The voluntary penance of ascetics, who endure suffering and seek glory in their lives, was detestable to a prophet who criticized his companions for rash vows to abstain from meat, women, and sleep; he firmly stated that he would allow no monks in his religion. Yet he instituted an annual fast of thirty days, strongly advocating its practice as a discipline that purifies the soul and tempers the body, serving as a beneficial exercise of obedience to God’s will and His messenger. During Ramadan, from dawn to dusk, Muslims refrain from eating, drinking, engaging with women, bathing, and using perfumes; they avoid all nourishment that can restore strength and pleasures that can satisfy senses. Over the course of the lunar year, Ramadan will fall, alternately, during the cold of winter and the heat of summer; the steadfast devotee, without quenching thirst with even a drop of water, must endure the long and oppressive day. The prohibition of wine, which some priests or hermits may observe, is established by Muhammad alone as a universal law; a significant part of the world has renounced, at his behest, the consumption of this useful yet hazardous drink. Although these strictures are undoubtedly violated by the libertine and evaded by the hypocrite, the lawmaker who established them cannot be accused of enticing followers into indulgence of their base desires. The charity of Muslims extends even to animals, and the Koran repeatedly emphasizes, not as a virtue but as a strict and necessary responsibility, the aid of the needy and unfortunate. Muhammad is perhaps the only lawgiver who has defined the exact measure of charity: the standard may change based on the type and amount of wealth—be it money, grain, livestock, fruits, or goods—but a Muslim has not fulfilled his obligation unless he gives a tenth of his income; if his conscience condemns him for dishonesty or exploitation, this amount is increased to a fifth as a form of restitution. Kindness is the bedrock of justice since we are forbidden from harming those we are obligated to help. A prophet may reveal the mysteries of heaven and the future, but in his moral teachings, he can only echo 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 Mahomet 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 her immaterial nature, are at a loss to understand how she can think or act without the agency of the organs of sense.

The two main beliefs and the four key duties of Islam are supported by rewards and punishments; and a Muslim’s faith is firmly focused on the event of judgment day. The prophet hasn’t claimed to know when that terrible event will occur, but he hints at the signs in the heavens and on earth that will come before everything falls apart, when life will end, and the order of creation will be thrown into chaos. At the sound of the trumpet, new worlds will come into existence: angels, spirits, and humans will rise from the dead, and the human soul will reunite with the body. The idea of resurrection was first embraced by the Egyptians; their mummies were embalmed and their pyramids built to preserve the ancient home of the soul for three thousand years. But that effort is incomplete and ineffective; instead, Muhammad relies more on the all-powerful Creator, whose word can bring back to life the lifeless clay and gather the countless atoms that have lost their shape and substance. The state of the soul in between is difficult to determine; and those who strongly believe in its immaterial nature struggle to understand how it can think or act without using the senses.

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 favorable 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 Mahomet: 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 Mahomet 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 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, 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 Mahomet, 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 enjoyments 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 hundred fold, to render him worthy of his felicity. Notwithstanding a vulgar prejudice, the gates of heaven will be open to both sexes; but Mahomet 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 Mahomet; and his modest apologists are driven to the poor excuse of figures and allegories. But the sounder and more consistent party adhere 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 Mahometan 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 reunion of the soul and body will be followed by the final judgment of humanity; and in his version of the Magian picture, the prophet represents the proceedings and even the slow and gradual actions of an earthly court too accurately. His intolerant opponents criticize him for offering even to them the hope of salvation, claiming he asserts the darkest heresy: that anyone who believes in God and does good deeds can expect a positive verdict on the last day. Such rational indifference doesn't fit the character of a fanatic; it's unlikely that a messenger from heaven would dismiss the importance and necessity of his own revelation. In the language of the Koran, belief in God is inseparable from belief in Mahomet: the good deeds are those he has commanded, and the two qualifications imply the acceptance of Islam, which all nations and sects are equally invited to embrace. Their spiritual ignorance, though excused by a lack of knowledge and filled with virtue, will be punished with eternal torments; and the tears Mahomet shed over his mother’s grave, for whom he was forbidden to pray, show a striking contrast between humanity and zeal. The fate of the non-believers is the same: the degree of their guilt and punishment will depend on how much evidence they have rejected and the extent of the errors they have believed. The eternal dwellings of Christians, Jews, Sabians, Magians, and idolaters sink below each other into the abyss; and the lowest hell is reserved for faithless hypocrites who pretend to be religious. After most of humanity has been condemned for their beliefs, only the true believers will be judged by their actions. The good and bad deeds of each Muslim will be weighed accurately in a real or metaphorical scale; and a unique method of compensation will be allowed for the reparation of wrongs: the aggressor must repay an equivalent amount of his own good deeds to the person he wronged; and if he lacks any moral merit, the burden of his sins will be increased by an appropriate share of the sufferer's flaws. Depending on whether guilt or virtue prevails, the sentence will be delivered, and everyone, without exception, will traverse the sharp and dangerous bridge over the abyss; but the innocent, following in Mahomet's footsteps, will joyfully enter paradise, while the guilty will fall into the first and mildest of the seven hells. The duration of expiation will range from nine hundred to seven thousand years; however, the prophet has wisely promised that all his followers, no matter their sins, shall be saved through their faith and his intercession from eternal damnation. It’s not surprising that superstition holds considerable power over the fears of its followers, since human imagination can more vividly depict the suffering than the joy of an afterlife. With just the simple elements of darkness and fire, we create a sensation of pain that can be heightened infinitely by the idea of eternal duration. But that same idea has the opposite effect when it comes to pleasure; and much of our current enjoyment comes from the relief or contrast to suffering. It’s natural for an Arabian prophet to delight in the groves, fountains, and rivers of paradise; yet instead of inspiring its blessed inhabitants with an appreciation for harmony, science, conversation, and friendship, he instead spends his time glorifying pearls and diamonds, silk robes, marble palaces, golden dishes, rich wines, gourmet delicacies, numerous servants, and all the sensual and extravagant luxuries that become tiresome to the owner, even in this brief mortal life. Seventy-two Houris, or beautiful black-eyed maidens, will be created for the benefit of the least devout believer; a moment of pleasure will stretch to a thousand years; and his abilities will be enhanced a hundredfold to make him deserving of his happiness. Contrary to common belief, the gates of heaven will be open to both men and women; but Mahomet hasn’t specified the male companions of the chosen women, perhaps to avoid stirring the jealousy of their former husbands or disrupting their happiness with the suspicion of an everlasting marriage. This vision of a sensual paradise has incited the anger, and perhaps the envy, of monks: they condemn the impure religion of Mahomet; and his modest defenders are forced to resort to the weak excuse of symbols and allegories. However, the more rational and consistent group openly adheres to the literal interpretation of the Koran: the resurrection of the body would be pointless unless it were restored to the possession and use of its highest faculties; and the union of sensual and intellectual enjoyment is necessary to complete the happiness of the dual being, the perfect human. Yet the joys of the Islamic paradise will not be limited to indulging in luxury and appetite; and the prophet has explicitly stated that all lesser joys will be forgotten and looked down upon by the saints and martyrs who will gain the ultimate bliss of divine vision.

The first and most arduous conquests of Mahomet were those of his wife, his servant, his pupil, and his friend; since he presented himself as a prophet to those who were most conversant with his infirmities as a man. Yet Cadijah believed the words, and cherished the glory, of her husband; the obsequious and affectionate Zeid was tempted by the prospect of freedom; the illustrious Ali, the son of Abu Taleb, embraced the sentiments of his cousin with the spirit of a youthful hero; and the wealth, the moderation, the veracity of Abubeker confirmed the religion of the prophet whom he was destined to succeed. By his persuasion, ten of the most respectable citizens of Mecca were introduced to the private lessons of Islam; they yielded to the voice of reason and enthusiasm; they repeated the fundamental creed, "There is but one God, and Mahomet is the apostle of God;" and their faith, even in this life, was rewarded with riches and honors, with the command of armies and the government of kingdoms. Three years were silently employed in the conversion of fourteen proselytes, the first-fruits of his mission; but in the fourth year he assumed the prophetic office, and resolving to impart to his family the light of divine truth, he prepared a banquet, a lamb, as it is said, and a bowl of milk, for the entertainment of forty guests of the race of Hashem. "Friends and kinsmen," said Mahomet to the assembly, "I offer you, and I alone can offer, the most precious of gifts, the treasures of this world and of the world to come. God has commanded me to call you to his service. Who among you will support my burden? Who among you will be my companion and my vizier?" No answer was returned, till the silence of astonishment, and doubt, and contempt, was at length broken by the impatient courage of Ali, a youth in the fourteenth year of his age. "O prophet, I am the man: whosoever rises against thee, I will dash out his teeth, tear out his eyes, break his legs, rip up his belly. O prophet, I will be thy vizier over them." Mahomet accepted his offer with transport, and Abu Taled was ironically exhorted to respect the superior dignity of his son. In a more serious tone, the father of Ali advised his nephew to relinquish his impracticable design. "Spare your remonstrances," replied the intrepid fanatic to his uncle and benefactor; "if they should place the sun on my right hand, and the moon on my left, they should not divert me from my course." He persevered ten years in the exercise of his mission; and the religion which has overspread the East and the West advanced with a slow and painful progress within the walls of Mecca. Yet Mahomet enjoyed the satisfaction of beholding the increase of his infant congregation of Unitarians, who revered him as a prophet, and to whom he seasonably dispensed the spiritual nourishment of the Koran. The number of proselytes may be esteemed by the absence of eighty-three men and eighteen women, who retired to Æthiopia in the seventh year of his mission; and his party was fortified by the timely conversion of his uncle Hamza, and of the fierce and inflexible Omar, who signalized in the cause of Islam the same zeal, which he had exerted for its destruction. Nor was the charity of Mahomet confined to the tribe of Koreish, or the precincts of Mecca: on solemn festivals, in the days of pilgrimage, he frequented the Caaba, accosted the strangers of every tribe, and urged, both in private converse and public discourse, the belief and worship of a sole Deity. Conscious of his reason and of his weakness, he asserted the liberty of conscience, and disclaimed the use of religious violence: but he called the Arabs to repentance, and conjured them to remember the ancient idolaters of Ad and Thamud, whom the divine justice had swept away from the face of the earth.

The first and most challenging conquests of Muhammad were with his wife, his servant, his pupil, and his friend, as he presented himself as a prophet to those most familiar with his human flaws. Yet Khadijah believed in his words and celebrated her husband's glory; the devoted and loving Zayd was tempted by the chance for freedom; the notable Ali, the son of Abu Talib, took on his cousin's beliefs with the enthusiasm of a young hero; and the wealth, moderation, and honesty of Abu Bakr reinforced the prophet's religion, which he was destined to inherit. Through his persuasion, ten of the most respected citizens of Mecca were introduced to private teachings of Islam; they responded to the call of reason and passion; they recited the fundamental creed, "There is but one God, and Muhammad is the messenger of God," and their faith was rewarded in this life with wealth and honors, leading armies and governing kingdoms. Three years went by quietly as he converted fourteen followers, the first fruits of his mission; but in the fourth year, he took on the role of prophet and, determined to share the light of divine truth with his family, prepared a feast with lamb, as it's said, and a bowl of milk for forty guests from the Hashem lineage. "Friends and relatives," Muhammad said to the gathering, "I offer you, and I alone can offer, the most precious of gifts, the riches of this world and the next. God has commanded me to call you to His service. Who among you will help me? Who will be my companion and advisor?" No one answered until Ali, a young man just fourteen years old, broke the silence with brave enthusiasm. "O prophet, I'm the man: whoever stands against you, I will knock out their teeth, tear out their eyes, break their legs, and rip open their belly. O prophet, I will be your advisor against them." Muhammad eagerly accepted his offer, and Abu Talib was wryly urged to respect his son's newfound importance. In a more serious manner, Ali's father advised his nephew to abandon his unfeasible plan. "Save your advice," the fearless young man replied to his uncle and benefactor; "even if they placed the sun in my right hand and the moon in my left, I would not be swayed from my path." He persisted in his mission for ten years; and the religion that spread throughout the East and West grew slowly and with great difficulty within the confines of Mecca. Still, Muhammad found satisfaction in witnessing the growth of his young congregation of Unitarians, who saw him as a prophet and received the spiritual guidance of the Quran from him at just the right moments. The number of followers could be noted by the absence of eighty-three men and eighteen women who fled to Ethiopia in the seventh year of his mission; and his group was strengthened by the timely conversion of his uncle Hamza, and the fierce and unyielding Omar, who displayed the same zeal in support of Islam that he once had in trying to destroy it. Moreover, Muhammad's compassion wasn't limited to the tribe of Quraysh or the borders of Mecca: on important festivals, during pilgrimage days, he visited the Kaaba, approached strangers from every tribe, and urged both in private talks and public speeches the belief and worship of a singular God. Aware of his reason and his limitations, he advocated for freedom of conscience and rejected the use of religious force: but he called on the Arabs to repent and reminded them of the ancient idolaters of Ad and Thamud, whom divine justice had wiped from the earth.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part V.

The people of Mecca were hardened in their unbelief by superstition and envy. The elders of the city, the uncles of the prophet, affected to despise the presumption of an orphan, the reformer of his country: the pious orations of Mahomet in the Caaba were answered by the clamors of Abu Taleb. "Citizens and pilgrims, listen not to the tempter, hearken not to his impious novelties. Stand fast in the worship of Al Lâta and Al Uzzah." Yet the son of Abdallah was ever dear to the aged chief: and he protected the fame and person of his nephew against the assaults of the Koreishites, who had long been jealous of the preëminence of the family of Hashem. Their malice was colored with the pretence of religion: in the age of Job, the crime of impiety was punished by the Arabian magistrate; and Mahomet was guilty of deserting and denying the national deities. But so loose was the policy of Mecca, that the leaders of the Koreish, instead of accusing a criminal, were compelled to employ the measures of persuasion or violence. They repeatedly addressed Abu Taleb in the style of reproach and menace. "Thy nephew reviles our religion; he accuses our wise forefathers of ignorance and folly; silence him quickly, lest he kindle tumult and discord in the city. If he persevere, we shall draw our swords against him and his adherents, and thou wilt be responsible for the blood of thy fellow-citizens." The weight and moderation of Abu Taleb eluded the violence of religious faction; the most helpless or timid of the disciples retired to Æthiopia, and the prophet withdrew himself to various places of strength in the town and country. As he was still supported by his family, the rest of the tribe of Koreish engaged themselves to renounce all intercourse with the children of Hashem, neither to buy nor sell, neither to marry not to give in marriage, but to pursue them with implacable enmity, till they should deliver the person of Mahomet to the justice of the gods. The decree was suspended in the Caaba before the eyes of the nation; the messengers of the Koreish pursued the Mussulman exiles in the heart of Africa: they besieged the prophet and his most faithful followers, intercepted their water, and inflamed their mutual animosity by the retaliation of injuries and insults. A doubtful truce restored the appearances of concord till the death of Abu Taleb abandoned Mahomet to the power of his enemies, at the moment when he was deprived of his domestic comforts by the loss of his faithful and generous Cadijah. Abu Sophian, the chief of the branch of Ommiyah, succeeded to the principality of the republic of Mecca. A zealous votary of the idols, a mortal foe of the line of Hashem, he convened an assembly of the Koreishites and their allies, to decide the fate of the apostle. His imprisonment might provoke the despair of his enthusiasm; and the exile of an eloquent and popular fanatic would diffuse the mischief through the provinces of Arabia. His death was resolved; and they agreed that a sword from each tribe should be buried in his heart, to divide the guilt of his blood, and baffle the vengeance of the Hashemites. An angel or a spy revealed their conspiracy; and flight was the only resource of Mahomet. At the dead of night, accompanied by his friend Abubeker, he silently escaped from his house: the assassins watched at the door; but they were deceived by the figure of Ali, who reposed on the bed, and was covered with the green vestment of the apostle. The Koreish respected the piety of the heroic youth; but some verses of Ali, which are still extant, exhibit an interesting picture of his anxiety, his tenderness, and his religious confidence. Three days Mahomet and his companion were concealed in the cave of Thor, at the distance of a league from Mecca; and in the close of each evening, they received from the son and daughter of Abubeker a secret supply of intelligence and food. The diligence of the Koreish explored every haunt in the neighborhood of the city: they arrived at the entrance of the cavern; but the providential deceit of a spider's web and a pigeon's nest is supposed to convince them that the place was solitary and inviolate. "We are only two," said the trembling Abubeker. "There is a third," replied the prophet; "it is God himself." No sooner was the pursuit abated than the two fugitives issued from the rock, and mounted their camels: on the road to Medina, they were overtaken by the emissaries of the Koreish; they redeemed themselves with prayers and promises from their hands. In this eventful moment, the lance of an Arab might have changed the history of the world. The flight of the prophet from Mecca to Medina has fixed the memorable æra of the Hegira, which, at the end of twelve centuries, still discriminates the lunar years of the Mahometan nations.

The people of Mecca were hardened in their disbelief due to superstition and envy. The city elders, who were the prophet's uncles, pretended to look down on the arrogance of an orphan trying to reform his country. Mahomet's pious speeches in the Caaba were met with the shouts of Abu Taleb. "Citizens and pilgrims, don't listen to the tempter, don't pay attention to his wicked new ideas. Stay true to the worship of Al Lâta and Al Uzzah." Yet, the son of Abdallah was always dear to the old chief, who defended his nephew's reputation and safety from the attacks of the Koreishites, who had long been jealous of the Hashem family’s prominence. Their malice was disguised as religious zeal; in the time of Job, impiety was punished by the Arabian authorities, and Mahomet was charged with abandoning the national gods. But the political landscape in Mecca was so weak that the leaders of the Koreish had to resort to persuasion or violence rather than accuse him outright. They frequently confronted Abu Taleb with reproach and threats. "Your nephew insults our religion; he says our wise ancestors were ignorant and foolish; silence him quickly, or he will cause unrest in the city. If he keeps it up, we will draw our swords against him and his followers, and you will be responsible for the blood of your fellow citizens." The seriousness and restraint of Abu Taleb managed to hold back the violence of religious factions; the most vulnerable or timid disciples fled to Ethiopia, and the prophet took refuge in various strongholds in town and countryside. Supported by his family, the rest of the Koreish tribe vowed to cut all ties with the children of Hashem: no buying or selling, no marrying or giving in marriage, but to pursue them with unending hostility until they turned Mahomet over to the gods' justice. The decree was displayed in the Caaba for all to see; the Koreish messengers tracked the Muslim exiles into the heart of Africa, besieged the prophet and his loyal followers, cut off their water supply, and intensified the hatred between them with retaliatory actions and insults. A shaky truce created the appearance of peace until Abu Taleb's death left Mahomet vulnerable to his enemies, just as he was grieving the loss of his devoted and generous wife, Cadijah. Abu Sophian, the leader of the Ommiyah clan, took charge of the Meccan republic. A devoted worshiper of idols and a sworn enemy of the Hashem line, he gathered the Koreishites and their allies to determine the fate of the apostle. Imprisoning him could ignite his determination; exiling a charismatic and popular fanatic would spread chaos throughout the regions of Arabia. They decided that he must die and agreed that a sword from each tribe would be plunged into his heart to share the guilt of his blood and shield the Hashemites from revenge. An angel or a spy uncovered their plot, leaving flight as Mahomet's only option. In the dead of night, accompanied by his friend Abubeker, he quietly escaped from his home. The assassins were watching at the door, but they were tricked by Ali, who lay in the bed covered with the prophet’s green garment. The Koreish respected the bravery of the young man, but some verses of Ali, which still exist, provide a compelling view of his anxiety, tenderness, and faith. For three days, Mahomet and his companion hid in the cave of Thor, about a league from Mecca, and every evening, they received secret supplies of news and food from Abubeker's son and daughter. The Koreish searched every possible hiding spot nearby; they reached the cave's entrance, but the miraculous deception of a spider's web and a pigeon’s nest led them to think the place was empty and untouched. "There are only two of us," said the trembling Abubeker. "But there’s a third," replied the prophet; "it’s God himself." Once the search eased, the two fugitives emerged from the cave and mounted their camels. On the way to Medina, they were caught by Koreish messengers, but they managed to free themselves with promises and prayers. At that pivotal moment, a single Arab's spear could have changed the course of history. The prophet's flight from Mecca to Medina established the significant era of the Hegira, which, after twelve centuries, still marks the lunar years for Muslim nations.

The religion of the Koran might have perished in its cradle, had not Medina embraced with faith and reverence the holy outcasts of Mecca. Medina, or the city, known under the name of Yathreb, before it was sanctified by the throne of the prophet, was divided between the tribes of the Charegites and the Awsites, whose hereditary feud was rekindled by the slightest provocations: two colonies of Jews, who boasted a sacerdotal race, were their humble allies, and without converting the Arabs, they introduced the taste of science and religion, which distinguished Medina as the city of the Book. Some of her noblest citizens, in a pilgrimage to the Caaba, were converted by the preaching of Mahomet; on their return, they diffused the belief of God and his prophet, and the new alliance was ratified by their deputies in two secret and nocturnal interviews on a hill in the suburbs of Mecca. In the first, ten Charegites and two Awsites united in faith and love, protested, in the name of their wives, their children, and their absent brethren, that they would forever profess the creed, and observe the precepts, of the Koran. The second was a political association, the first vital spark of the empire of the Saracens. Seventy-three men and two women of Medina held a solemn conference with Mahomet, his kinsman, and his disciples; and pledged themselves to each other by a mutual oath of fidelity. They promised, in the name of the city, that if he should be banished, they would receive him as a confederate, obey him as a leader, and defend him to the last extremity, like their wives and children. "But if you are recalled by your country," they asked with a flattering anxiety, "will you not abandon your new allies?" "All things," replied Mahomet with a smile, "are now common between us; your blood is as my blood, your ruin as my ruin. We are bound to each other by the ties of honor and interest. I am your friend, and the enemy of your foes." "But if we are killed in your service, what," exclaimed the deputies of Medina, "will be our reward?" "Paradise," replied the prophet. "Stretch forth thy hand." He stretched it forth, and they reiterated the oath of allegiance and fidelity. Their treaty was ratified by the people, who unanimously embraced the profession of Islam; they rejoiced in the exile of the apostle, but they trembled for his safety, and impatiently expected his arrival. After a perilous and rapid journey along the sea-coast, he halted at Koba, two miles from the city, and made his public entry into Medina, sixteen days after his flight from Mecca. Five hundred of the citizens advanced to meet him; he was hailed with acclamations of loyalty and devotion; Mahomet was mounted on a she-camel, an umbrella shaded his head, and a turban was unfurled before him to supply the deficiency of a standard. His bravest disciples, who had been scattered by the storm, assembled round his person; and the equal, though various, merit of the Moslems was distinguished by the names of Mohagerians and Ansars, the fugitives of Mecca, and the auxiliaries of Medina. To eradicate the seeds of jealousy, Mahomet judiciously coupled his principal followers with the rights and obligations of brethren; and when Ali found himself without a peer, the prophet tenderly declared, that he would be the companion and brother of the noble youth. The expedient was crowned with success; the holy fraternity was respected in peace and war, and the two parties vied with each other in a generous emulation of courage and fidelity. Once only the concord was slightly ruffled by an accidental quarrel: a patriot of Medina arraigned the insolence of the strangers, but the hint of their expulsion was heard with abhorrence; and his own son most eagerly offered to lay at the apostle's feet the head of his father.

The religion of the Koran might have faded away if Medina hadn't welcomed the holy outcasts from Mecca with faith and respect. Medina, originally called Yathreb before it became sacred under the prophet's influence, was split between the Charegites and the Awsites, whose long-standing feud could be ignited by the smallest of insults. Two Jewish communities, proud of their priestly lineage, were their humble allies; instead of converting the Arabs, they brought a love for knowledge and religion that made Medina known as the city of the Book. Some of its esteemed citizens, during a pilgrimage to the Kaaba, were won over by Muhammad's preaching; on their return, they spread the faith in God and his prophet, and the new alliance was solidified through two covert nighttime meetings on a hill just outside Mecca. In the first meeting, ten Charegites and two Awsites came together in faith and love, swearing on behalf of their wives, children, and absent kin that they would always uphold the teachings and follow the precepts of the Koran. The second meeting was a political agreement, marking the first spark of the Saracen empire. Seventy-three men and two women from Medina held an important meeting with Muhammad, his relatives, and his followers; they committed to each other through a mutual oath of loyalty. They promised that if he was forced to leave, they would welcome him as an ally, obey him as their leader, and protect him to the end, just like they would for their wives and children. "But if your hometown calls you back," they asked with concern, "will you leave your new allies?" "Everything is shared between us now," replied Muhammad with a smile, "your blood is my blood, your fate is my fate. We are bonded by honor and interest. I am your ally, and your enemies are my enemies." "But if we die serving you, what will be our reward?" the deputies of Medina asked. "Paradise," the prophet responded. "Extend your hand." He did so, and they renewed their oath of allegiance and loyalty. The treaty was endorsed by the people, who unanimously adopted Islam; they celebrated the apostle's exile but worried for his safety and eagerly awaited his arrival. After a risky and quick journey along the coast, he stopped at Koba, just two miles from the city, and officially entered Medina sixteen days after fleeing from Mecca. Five hundred citizens came out to greet him, showering him with expressions of loyalty and dedication; Muhammad was riding a she-camel, shaded by an umbrella, with a turban unfurled before him to serve as a standard. His bravest followers, who had been scattered by the turmoil, gathered around him; the equal but diverse accomplishments of the Muslims were recognized by the labels of Mohagerians and Ansars, the exiles from Mecca and the defenders from Medina. To eliminate jealousy, Muhammad wisely paired his key followers as brothers in rights and responsibilities; and when Ali found himself without a partner, the prophet affectionately declared that he would be the companion and brother of this noble youth. This approach succeeded; the holy brotherhood was honored in both peace and war, and both groups strove to outperform one another in bravery and loyalty. Only once was their harmony slightly disrupted by an accidental conflict: a Medina patriot criticized the arrogance of the newcomers, but the suggestion to expel them was met with outrage; even his own son eagerly offered to bring the head of his father to the apostle as proof of loyalty.

From his establishment at Medina, Mahomet assumed the exercise of the regal and sacerdotal office; and it was impious to appeal from a judge whose decrees were inspired by the divine wisdom. A small portion of ground, the patrimony of two orphans, was acquired by gift or purchase; on that chosen spot he built a house and a mosch, more venerable in their rude simplicity than the palaces and temples of the Assyrian caliphs. His seal of gold, or silver, was inscribed with the apostolic title; when he prayed and preached in the weekly assembly, he leaned against the trunk of a palm-tree; and it was long before he indulged himself in the use of a chair or pulpit of rough timber. After a reign of six years, fifteen hundred Moslems, in arms and in the field, renewed their oath of allegiance; and their chief repeated the assurance of protection till the death of the last member, or the final dissolution of the party. It was in the same camp that the deputy of Mecca was astonished by the attention of the faithful to the words and looks of the prophet, by the eagerness with which they collected his spittle, a hair that dropped on the ground, the refuse water of his lustrations, as if they participated in some degree of the prophetic virtue. "I have seen," said he, "the Chosroes of Persia and the Cæsar of Rome, but never did I behold a king among his subjects like Mahomet among his companions." The devout fervor of enthusiasm acts with more energy and truth than the cold and formal servility of courts.

From his base in Medina, Muhammad took on both royal and religious roles; it was seen as wrong to question a judge whose decisions were believed to be guided by divine wisdom. A small piece of land, the inheritance of two orphans, was acquired either by gift or purchase; on that chosen spot, he built a house and a mosque, which were more esteemed in their simple design than the grand palaces and temples of the Assyrian caliphs. His gold or silver seal was engraved with the title of apostle; when he prayed and preached during the weekly gatherings, he leaned against the trunk of a palm tree, and it took him a long time before he allowed himself to use a chair or a pulpit made of rough wood. After six years of leadership, fifteen hundred Muslims, armed and ready, reaffirmed their pledge of loyalty; their leader reiterated his commitment to protect them until the death of the last member or the complete breakdown of the group. It was in that same camp that the representative from Mecca was amazed by the devotion of the followers to the words and expressions of the prophet, and by their eagerness to collect his saliva, a strand of hair that fell, and the leftover water from his ablutions, as if they were gaining some of his prophetic power. "I have seen," he said, "the Khosrow of Persia and the Caesar of Rome, but I have never seen a king among his people like Muhammad among his companions." The passionate fervor of true devotion works with more energy and authenticity than the cold and formal servitude of royal courts.

In the state of nature, every man has a right to defend, by force of arms, his person and his possessions; to repel, or even to prevent, the violence of his enemies, and to extend his hostilities to a reasonable measure of satisfaction and retaliation. In the free society of the Arabs, the duties of subject and citizen imposed a feeble restraint; and Mahomet, in the exercise of a peaceful and benevolent mission, had been despoiled and banished by the injustice of his countrymen. The choice of an independent people had exalted the fugitive of Mecca to the rank of a sovereign; and he was invested with the just prerogative of forming alliances, and of waging offensive or defensive war. The imperfection of human rights was supplied and armed by the plenitude of divine power: the prophet of Medina assumed, in his new revelations, a fiercer and more sanguinary tone, which proves that his former moderation was the effect of weakness: the means of persuasion had been tried, the season of forbearance was elapsed, and he was now commanded to propagate his religion by the sword, to destroy the monuments of idolatry, and, without regarding the sanctity of days or months, to pursue the unbelieving nations of the earth. The same bloody precepts, so repeatedly inculcated in the Koran, are ascribed by the author to the Pentateuch and the Gospel. But the mild tenor of the evangelic style may explain an ambiguous text, that Jesus did not bring peace on the earth, but a sword: his patient and humble virtues should not be confounded with the intolerant zeal of princes and bishops, who have disgraced the name of his disciples. In the prosecution of religious war, Mahomet might appeal with more propriety to the example of Moses, of the Judges, and the kings of Israel. The military laws of the Hebrews are still more rigid than those of the Arabian legislator. The Lord of hosts marched in person before the Jews: if a city resisted their summons, the males, without distinction, were put to the sword: the seven nations of Canaan were devoted to destruction; and neither repentance nor conversion, could shield them from the inevitable doom, that no creature within their precincts should be left alive. The fair option of friendship, or submission, or battle, was proposed to the enemies of Mahomet. If they professed the creed of Islam, they were admitted to all the temporal and spiritual benefits of his primitive disciples, and marched under the same banner to extend the religion which they had embraced. The clemency of the prophet was decided by his interest: yet he seldom trampled on a prostrate enemy; and he seems to promise, that on the payment of a tribute, the least guilty of his unbelieving subjects might be indulged in their worship, or at least in their imperfect faith. In the first months of his reign he practised the lessons of holy warfare, and displayed his white banner before the gates of Medina: the martial apostle fought in person at nine battles or sieges; and fifty enterprises of war were achieved in ten years by himself or his lieutenants. The Arab continued to unite the professions of a merchant and a robber; and his petty excursions for the defence or the attack of a caravan insensibly prepared his troops for the conquest of Arabia. The distribution of the spoil was regulated by a divine law: the whole was faithfully collected in one common mass: a fifth of the gold and silver, the prisoners and cattle, the movables and immovables, was reserved by the prophet for pious and charitable uses; the remainder was shared in adequate portions by the soldiers who had obtained the victory or guarded the camp: the rewards of the slain devolved to their widows and orphans; and the increase of cavalry was encouraged by the allotment of a double share to the horse and to the man. From all sides the roving Arabs were allured to the standard of religion and plunder: the apostle sanctified the license of embracing the female captives as their wives or concubines, and the enjoyment of wealth and beauty was a feeble type of the joys of paradise prepared for the valiant martyrs of the faith. "The sword," says Mahomet, "is the key of heaven and of hell; a drop of blood shed in the cause of God, a night spent in arms, is of more avail than two months of fasting or prayer: whosoever falls in battle, his sins are forgiven: at the day of judgment his wounds shall be resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; and the loss of his limbs shall be supplied by the wings of angels and cherubim." The intrepid souls of the Arabs were fired with enthusiasm: the picture of the invisible world was strongly painted on their imagination; and the death which they had always despised became an object of hope and desire. The Koran inculcates, in the most absolute sense, the tenets of fate and predestination, which would extinguish both industry and virtue, if the actions of man were governed by his speculative belief. Yet their influence in every age has exalted the courage of the Saracens and Turks. The first companions of Mahomet advanced to battle with a fearless confidence: there is no danger where there is no chance: they were ordained to perish in their beds; or they were safe and invulnerable amidst the darts of the enemy.

In the state of nature, everyone has the right to defend themselves and their possessions using force; to repel or even prevent the violence of their enemies, and to retaliate to a reasonable extent. In the free society of the Arabs, the responsibilities of being a subject and a citizen offered minimal restraint; and Muhammad, on a peaceful and benevolent mission, had been stripped of his rights and exiled by the injustice of his fellow countrymen. The choice of an independent people elevated the fugitive from Mecca to the status of a sovereign; and he was given the rightful authority to form alliances and wage war, whether offensive or defensive. The limitations of human rights were compensated for by the fullness of divine power: the prophet of Medina took on a harsher and more bloodthirsty tone in his new revelations, showing that his earlier moderation stemmed from weakness: the time for persuasion had passed, the season for patience was over, and he was now commanded to spread his religion through violence, to destroy the symbols of idolatry, and to relentlessly pursue the unbelieving nations of the earth, regardless of the sacredness of days or months. The same violent principles, often emphasized in the Koran, are also related to the Pentateuch and the Gospel. However, the gentle nature of evangelic teachings might clarify a confusing passage, suggesting that Jesus did not bring peace to the earth, but a sword: his patient and humble virtues should not be confused with the intolerant zeal of kings and bishops, who have tarnished the reputation of his followers. In carrying out religious warfare, Muhammad could more appropriately reference the examples of Moses, the Judges, and the kings of Israel. The military laws of the Hebrews are even stricter than those of the Arabian lawgiver. The Lord of Hosts personally led the Jews: if a city defied them, all the males were killed without exception: the seven nations of Canaan were marked for destruction; and no repentance or conversion could save them from the inevitable fate that none within their borders would be left alive. Muhammad offered his enemies the choice of friendship, submission, or battle. If they accepted the faith of Islam, they were welcomed into all the worldly and spiritual benefits that his original followers enjoyed, and joined under the same banner to spread the religion they had adopted. The prophet’s mercy was often dictated by his self-interest: yet he rarely took advantage of a defeated enemy; and he seemed to guarantee that, upon paying a tribute, the least guilty of his nonbelieving subjects could continue their worship, or at least their imperfect beliefs. In the early months of his rule, he practiced the principles of holy war and raised his white banner outside the gates of Medina: the martial apostle fought personally in nine battles or sieges; and during ten years, he or his commanders conducted fifty military campaigns. The Arabs continued to blend the roles of merchant and raider; and their small-scale raids, whether defending or attacking a caravan, gradually prepared his forces for the conquest of Arabia. The distribution of war booty was governed by divine law: everything was collected into one common sum: one-fifth of the gold and silver, prisoners, livestock, and goods—both movable and immovable—was set aside by the prophet for charitable and religious purposes; the rest was fairly divided among the soldiers who won the victory or protected the camp: the rewards of the fallen went to their widows and orphans; and increasing cavalry was encouraged by granting double shares to both horse and rider. From all directions, wandering Arabs were drawn to the banner of religion and plunder: the apostle legitimized taking female captives as wives or concubines, and the enjoyment of wealth and beauty was seen as a faint reflection of the joys of paradise reserved for the valiant martyrs of the faith. "The sword," said Muhammad, "is the key to heaven and hell; a drop of blood shed in the name of God, a night spent in combat, is worth more than two months of fasting or prayer: anyone who dies in battle has their sins forgiven; on the day of judgment, their wounds will shine like vermilion and smell like musk; and the loss of their limbs will be replaced by the wings of angels and cherubim." The fearless spirits of the Arabs were ignited with passion: the vision of the unseen world was powerfully painted in their minds; and the death they had always scorned turned into a source of hope and desire. The Koran emphasizes, in an absolute sense, the beliefs in fate and predestination, which could extinguish both effort and virtue if human actions were solely dictated by those beliefs. Nonetheless, their influence throughout the ages has bolstered the courage of the Saracens and Turks. Muhammad’s earliest companions approached battle with unwavering confidence: there is no danger where there is no risk: they were destined to die in their beds; or they were safe and invincible amidst enemy attacks.

Perhaps the Koreish would have been content with the flight of Mahomet, had they not been provoked and alarmed by the vengeance of an enemy, who could intercept their Syrian trade as it passed and repassed through the territory of Medina. Abu Sophian himself, with only thirty or forty followers, conducted a wealthy caravan of a thousand camels; the fortune or dexterity of his march escaped the vigilance of Mahomet; but the chief of the Koreish was informed that the holy robbers were placed in ambush to await his return. He despatched a messenger to his brethren of Mecca, and they were roused, by the fear of losing their merchandise and their provisions, unless they hastened to his relief with the military force of the city. The sacred band of Mahomet was formed of three hundred and thirteen Moslems, of whom seventy-seven were fugitives, and the rest auxiliaries; they mounted by turns a train of seventy camels, (the camels of Yathreb were formidable in war;) but such was the poverty of his first disciples, that only two could appear on horseback in the field. In the fertile and famous vale of Beder, three stations from Medina, he was informed by his scouts of the caravan that approached on one side; of the Koreish, one hundred horse, eight hundred and fifty foot, who advanced on the other. After a short debate, he sacrificed the prospect of wealth to the pursuit of glory and revenge, and a slight intrenchment was formed, to cover his troops, and a stream of fresh water, that glided through the valley. "O God," he exclaimed, as the numbers of the Koreish descended from the hills, "O God, if these are destroyed, by whom wilt thou be worshipped on the earth?—Courage, my children; close your ranks; discharge your arrows, and the day is your own." At these words he placed himself, with Abubeker, on a throne or pulpit, and instantly demanded the succor of Gabriel and three thousand angels. His eye was fixed on the field of battle: the Mussulmans fainted and were pressed: in that decisive moment the prophet started from his throne, mounted his horse, and cast a handful of sand into the air: "Let their faces be covered with confusion." Both armies heard the thunder of his voice: their fancy beheld the angelic warriors: the Koreish trembled and fled: seventy of the bravest were slain; and seventy captives adorned the first victory of the faithful. The dead bodies of the Koreish were despoiled and insulted: two of the most obnoxious prisoners were punished with death; and the ransom of the others, four thousand drams of silver, compensated in some degree the escape of the caravan. But it was in vain that the camels of Abu Sophian explored a new road through the desert and along the Euphrates: they were overtaken by the diligence of the Mussulmans; and wealthy must have been the prize, if twenty thousand drams could be set apart for the fifth of the apostle. The resentment of the public and private loss stimulated Abu Sophian to collect a body of three thousand men, seven hundred of whom were armed with cuirasses, and two hundred were mounted on horseback; three thousand camels attended his march; and his wife Henda, with fifteen matrons of Mecca, incessantly sounded their timbrels to animate the troops, and to magnify the greatness of Hobal, the most popular deity of the Caaba. The standard of God and Mahomet was upheld by nine hundred and fifty believers: the disproportion of numbers was not more alarming than in the field of Beder; and their presumption of victory prevailed against the divine and human sense of the apostle. The second battle was fought on Mount Ohud, six miles to the north of Medina; the Koreish advanced in the form of a crescent; and the right wing of cavalry was led by Caled, the fiercest and most successful of the Arabian warriors. The troops of Mahomet were skilfully posted on the declivity of the hill; and their rear was guarded by a detachment of fifty archers. The weight of their charge impelled and broke the centre of the idolaters: but in the pursuit they lost the advantage of their ground: the archers deserted their station: the Mussulmans were tempted by the spoil, disobeyed their general, and disordered their ranks. The intrepid Caled, wheeling his cavalry on their flank and rear, exclaimed, with a loud voice, that Mahomet was slain. He was indeed wounded in the face with a javelin: two of his teeth were shattered with a stone; yet, in the midst of tumult and dismay, he reproached the infidels with the murder of a prophet; and blessed the friendly hand that stanched his blood, and conveyed him to a place of safety. Seventy martyrs died for the sins of the people; they fell, said the apostle, in pairs, each brother embracing his lifeless companion; their bodies were mangled by the inhuman females of Mecca; and the wife of Abu Sophian tasted the entrails of Hamza, the uncle of Mahomet. They might applaud their superstition, and satiate their fury; but the Mussulmans soon rallied in the field, and the Koreish wanted strength or courage to undertake the siege of Medina. It was attacked the ensuing year by an army of ten thousand enemies; and this third expedition is variously named from the nations, which marched under the banner of Abu Sophian, from the ditch which was drawn before the city, and a camp of three thousand Mussulmans. The prudence of Mahomet declined a general engagement: the valor of Ali was signalized in single combat; and the war was protracted twenty days, till the final separation of the confederates. A tempest of wind, rain, and hail, overturned their tents: their private quarrels were fomented by an insidious adversary; and the Koreish, deserted by their allies, no longer hoped to subvert the throne, or to check the conquests, of their invincible exile.

Perhaps the Quraysh would have been fine with Muhammad’s escape if they hadn't been provoked and worried about the revenge of an enemy who could block their trade routes to Syria as they passed through Medina. Abu Sufyan himself, with only thirty or forty followers, led a wealthy caravan of a thousand camels; the skill of his journey eluded Muhammad's watchful eye. However, the chief of the Quraysh learned that the holy raiders were lying in wait for his return. He sent a messenger to his fellow Meccans, and they were stirred by the fear of losing their goods and supplies unless they rushed to help him with the military support of the city. Muhammad's sacred group consisted of three hundred and thirteen Muslims, of whom seventy-seven were refugees and the rest were supporters; they took turns riding a train of seventy camels (the camels from Yathrib were fierce in battle); but due to the poverty of his early followers, only two could ride in the field. In the fertile and renowned valley of Badr, three stations from Medina, he learned from his scouts that a caravan approached from one direction, while one hundred horsemen and eight hundred fifty foot soldiers of the Quraysh advanced from another. After a brief discussion, he chose the pursuit of glory and revenge over the prospect of wealth, and a slight fortification was built to protect his troops, along with a fresh water stream that flowed through the valley. "O God," he cried out as the Quraysh descended from the hills, "O God, if they are destroyed, who will worship you on Earth? Courage, my children; close your ranks; shoot your arrows and the day is yours." At these words, he positioned himself with Abu Bakr on a pulpit and immediately requested the support of Gabriel and three thousand angels. His gaze was fixed on the battlefield: the Muslims were weakening and under pressure; in that crucial moment, the prophet sprang from his pulpit, mounted his horse, and threw a handful of sand into the air: "May their faces be covered with disgrace." Both armies heard the thunder of his voice: they imagined the angelic warriors: the Quraysh trembled and fled: seventy of the bravest were killed; and seventy captives marked the first victory for the faithful. The corpses of the Quraysh were stripped and disrespected: two of the most detested prisoners were executed; and the ransom of the others, four thousand dirhams of silver, somewhat compensated for the escape of the caravan. But it was in vain that Abu Sufyan's camels sought a new path through the desert and along the Euphrates: they were caught by the diligence of the Muslims; and it would have been a great prize if twenty thousand dirhams could be set aside for the apostle’s fifth. The resentment of the public and personal loss pushed Abu Sufyan to gather a force of three thousand men, seven hundred of whom were equipped with armor, and two hundred were mounted; three thousand camels followed his march; and his wife Hinda, along with fifteen women from Mecca, constantly beat their tambourines to encourage the troops and glorify the greatness of Hubal, the most popular god of the Kaaba. The standard of God and Muhammad was held by nine hundred and fifty believers: the disparity in numbers was no more alarming than on the battlefield of Badr; and their belief in victory prevailed over the apostle’s divine and human insight. The second battle took place on Mount Uhud, six miles north of Medina; the Quraysh advanced in a crescent formation; and the right wing of cavalry was led by Khalid, the fiercest and most successful of the Arabian warriors. Muhammad's troops were skillfully positioned on the slope of the hill; their rear was protected by a group of fifty archers. The force of their charge pushed back the center of the idolaters: but in the pursuit, they lost their strategic advantage: the archers abandoned their posts: the Muslims, tempted by the spoils, disobeyed their general, and broke their ranks. The fearless Khalid, wheeling his cavalry to their flank and rear, shouted loudly that Muhammad was killed. He was indeed wounded in the face by a javelin: two of his teeth were broken by a stone; yet, amidst the chaos and panic, he accused the infidels of murdering a prophet; and blessed the friendly hand that stopped his bleeding and brought him to safety. Seventy martyrs died for the sins of the people; they fell, the apostle said, in pairs, each brother embracing his lifeless companion; their bodies were mutilated by the inhumane women of Mecca; and Abu Sufyan's wife tasted the entrails of Hamza, Muhammad's uncle. They might have celebrated their superstition and indulged their fury; but the Muslims quickly regrouped in the field, and the Quraysh lacked the strength or courage to lay siege to Medina. It was attacked the following year by an army of ten thousand enemies; this third campaign is known by various names referring to the nations that marched under Abu Sufyan's banner, the ditch dug before the city, and a camp of three thousand Muslims. Muhammad, exercising caution, avoided a general battle: Ali’s bravery was highlighted in one-on-one combat; and the conflict dragged on for twenty days until the departure of the confederates. A storm of wind, rain, and hail overturned their tents: their internal disputes were stirred up by a deceitful enemy; and the Quraysh, abandoned by their allies, no longer hoped to topple the throne or halt the conquests of their unbeatable exile.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part VI.

The choice of Jerusalem for the first kebla of prayer discovers the early propensity of Mahomet in favor of the Jews; and happy would it have been for their temporal interest, had they recognized, in the Arabian prophet, the hope of Israel and the promised Messiah. Their obstinacy converted his friendship into implacable hatred, with which he pursued that unfortunate people to the last moment of his life; and in the double character of an apostle and a conqueror, his persecution was extended to both worlds. The Kainoka dwelt at Medina under the protection of the city; he seized the occasion of an accidental tumult, and summoned them to embrace his religion, or contend with him in battle. "Alas!" replied the trembling Jews, "we are ignorant of the use of arms, but we persevere in the faith and worship of our fathers; why wilt thou reduce us to the necessity of a just defence?" The unequal conflict was terminated in fifteen days; and it was with extreme reluctance that Mahomet yielded to the importunity of his allies, and consented to spare the lives of the captives. But their riches were confiscated, their arms became more effectual in the hands of the Mussulmans; and a wretched colony of seven hundred exiles was driven, with their wives and children, to implore a refuge on the confines of Syria. The Nadhirites were more guilty, since they conspired, in a friendly interview, to assassinate the prophet. He besieged their castle, three miles from Medina; but their resolute defence obtained an honorable capitulation; and the garrison, sounding their trumpets and beating their drums, was permitted to depart with the honors of war. The Jews had excited and joined the war of the Koreish: no sooner had the nations retired from the ditch, than Mahomet, without laying aside his armor, marched on the same day to extirpate the hostile race of the children of Koraidha. After a resistance of twenty-five days, they surrendered at discretion. They trusted to the intercession of their old allies of Medina; they could not be ignorant that fanaticism obliterates the feelings of humanity. A venerable elder, to whose judgment they appealed, pronounced the sentence of their death; seven hundred Jews were dragged in chains to the market-place of the city; they descended alive into the grave prepared for their execution and burial; and the apostle beheld with an inflexible eye the slaughter of his helpless enemies. Their sheep and camels were inherited by the Mussulmans: three hundred cuirasses, five hundred pikes, a thousand lances, composed the most useful portion of the spoil. Six days' journey to the north-east of Medina, the ancient and wealthy town of Chaibar was the seat of the Jewish power in Arabia: the territory, a fertile spot in the desert, was covered with plantations and cattle, and protected by eight castles, some of which were esteemed of impregnable strength. The forces of Mahomet consisted of two hundred horse and fourteen hundred foot: in the succession of eight regular and painful sieges they were exposed to danger, and fatigue, and hunger; and the most undaunted chiefs despaired of the event. The apostle revived their faith and courage by the example of Ali, on whom he bestowed the surname of the Lion of God: perhaps we may believe that a Hebrew champion of gigantic stature was cloven to the chest by his irresistible cimeter; but we cannot praise the modesty of romance, which represents him as tearing from its hinges the gate of a fortress and wielding the ponderous buckler in his left hand. After the reduction of the castles, the town of Chaibar submitted to the yoke. The chief of the tribe was tortured, in the presence of Mahomet, to force a confession of his hidden treasure: the industry of the shepherds and husbandmen was rewarded with a precarious toleration: they were permitted, so long as it should please the conqueror, to improve their patrimony, in equal shares, for his emolument and their own. Under the reign of Omar, the Jews of Chaibar were transported to Syria; and the caliph alleged the injunction of his dying master; that one and the true religion should be professed in his native land of Arabia.

The choice of Jerusalem as the first qibla for prayer shows Muhammad's early inclination towards the Jews. It would have been beneficial for them if they had recognized the Arabian prophet as the hope of Israel and the promised Messiah. Their stubbornness turned his friendship into relentless animosity, which he carried towards that unfortunate people until the end of his life; as both an apostle and a conqueror, his persecution spanned both worlds. The Kainoka lived in Medina under the city's protection, and he took advantage of an accidental commotion to summon them to either adopt his religion or fight him in battle. "We’re not skilled in warfare," replied the frightened Jews, "but we continue to follow the faith and worship of our ancestors; why do you force us to defend ourselves?" The uneven clash ended in fifteen days; and with great reluctance, Muhammad agreed to his allies' demands and spared the lives of the captives. However, their wealth was confiscated, and their arms became more effective in the hands of the Muslims; a miserable group of seven hundred exiles, along with their wives and children, were driven away seeking refuge on the edges of Syria. The Nadhirites were even more culpable, as they plotted, during a friendly meeting, to assassinate the prophet. He besieged their fortress, three miles from Medina; but their determined defense led to an honorable surrender, and the garrison, sounding trumpets and beating drums, was allowed to leave with military honors. The Jews had incited and joined the war against the Koreish: as soon as the nations retreated from the ditch, Muhammad, without removing his armor, marched that very day to eliminate the hostile Koraidha. After twenty-five days of resistance, they surrendered unconditionally. They hoped for the intercession of their old allies in Medina, but they must have understood that fanaticism can erase feelings of humanity. A respected elder, to whom they appealed for judgment, declared their death sentence; seven hundred Jews were dragged in chains to the city marketplace; they were led alive to their execution and burial, while the apostle looked on mercilessly as his helpless enemies were slaughtered. Their sheep and camels became the property of the Muslims: three hundred armor pieces, five hundred spears, and a thousand lances made up the most valuable part of the spoils. Six days’ travel northeast of Medina, the ancient and wealthy town of Chaibar was the center of Jewish power in Arabia: the territory, a fertile area in the desert, was filled with plantations and livestock, and protected by eight castles, some considered to be practically impregnable. Muhammad's forces consisted of two hundred cavalry and fourteen hundred infantry: during eight lengthy and grueling sieges, they faced danger, exhaustion, and hunger; even the bravest leaders despaired of success. The apostle rekindled their faith and courage by showing them Ali, whom he called the Lion of God: perhaps we can believe that a Hebrew warrior of enormous size was split to the chest by his unstoppable sword; but we cannot commend the modesty of the tale, which depicts him as tearing down the gate of a fortress and wielding a heavy shield in his left hand. After the castles fell, the town of Chaibar submitted. The tribe's leader was tortured in front of Muhammad to reveal his hidden treasure: the hard work of the shepherds and farmers was met with precarious toleration: they were allowed, as long as it pleased the conqueror, to improve their property, sharing the benefits equally for his profit and their own. Under the reign of Omar, the Jews of Chaibar were relocated to Syria; and the caliph claimed that it was his master’s dying wish that only one true religion should be practiced in his homeland of Arabia.

Five times each day the eyes of Mahomet were turned towards Mecca, and he was urged by the most sacred and powerful motives to revisit, as a conqueror, the city and the temple from whence he had been driven as an exile. The Caaba was present to his waking and sleeping fancy: an idle dream was translated into vision and prophecy; he unfurled the holy banner; and a rash promise of success too hastily dropped from the lips of the apostle. His march from Medina to Mecca displayed the peaceful and solemn pomp of a pilgrimage: seventy camels, chosen and bedecked for sacrifice, preceded the van; the sacred territory was respected; and the captives were dismissed without ransom to proclaim his clemency and devotion. But no sooner did Mahomet descend into the plain, within a day's journey of the city, than he exclaimed, "They have clothed themselves with the skins of tigers:" the numbers and resolution of the Koreish opposed his progress; and the roving Arabs of the desert might desert or betray a leader whom they had followed for the hopes of spoil. The intrepid fanatic sunk into a cool and cautious politician: he waived in the treaty his title of apostle of God; concluded with the Koreish and their allies a truce of ten years; engaged to restore the fugitives of Mecca who should embrace his religion; and stipulated only, for the ensuing year, the humble privilege of entering the city as a friend, and of remaining three days to accomplish the rites of the pilgrimage. A cloud of shame and sorrow hung on the retreat of the Mussulmans, and their disappointment might justly accuse the failure of a prophet who had so often appealed to the evidence of success. The faith and hope of the pilgrims were rekindled by the prospect of Mecca: their swords were sheathed; seven times in the footsteps of the apostle they encompassed the Caaba: the Koreish had retired to the hills, and Mahomet, after the customary sacrifice, evacuated the city on the fourth day. The people was edified by his devotion; the hostile chiefs were awed, or divided, or seduced; and both Kaled and Amrou, the future conquerors of Syria and Egypt, most seasonably deserted the sinking cause of idolatry. The power of Mahomet was increased by the submission of the Arabian tribes; ten thousand soldiers were assembled for the conquest of Mecca; and the idolaters, the weaker party, were easily convicted of violating the truce. Enthusiasm and discipline impelled the march, and preserved the secret till the blaze of ten thousand fires proclaimed to the astonished Koreish the design, the approach, and the irresistible force of the enemy. The haughty Abu Sophian presented the keys of the city, admired the variety of arms and ensigns that passed before him in review; observed that the son of Abdallah had acquired a mighty kingdom, and confessed, under the cimeter of Omar, that he was the apostle of the true God. The return of Marius and Scylla was stained with the blood of the Romans: the revenge of Mahomet was stimulated by religious zeal, and his injured followers were eager to execute or to prevent the order of a massacre. Instead of indulging their passions and his own, the victorious exile forgave the guilt, and united the factions, of Mecca. His troops, in three divisions, marched into the city: eight-and-twenty of the inhabitants were slain by the sword of Caled; eleven men and six women were proscribed by the sentence of Mahomet; but he blamed the cruelty of his lieutenant; and several of the most obnoxious victims were indebted for their lives to his clemency or contempt. The chiefs of the Koreish were prostrate at his feet. "What mercy can you expect from the man whom you have wronged?" "We confide in the generosity of our kinsman." "And you shall not confide in vain: begone! you are safe, you are free." The people of Mecca deserved their pardon by the profession of Islam; and after an exile of seven years, the fugitive missionary was enthroned as the prince and prophet of his native country. But the three hundred and sixty idols of the Caaba were ignominiously broken: the house of God was purified and adorned: as an example to future times, the apostle again fulfilled the duties of a pilgrim; and a perpetual law was enacted that no unbeliever should dare to set his foot on the territory of the holy city.

Five times a day, Muhammad turned his gaze toward Mecca, driven by the deepest and most compelling motives to return, as a conqueror, to the city and temple from which he had been exiled. The Kaaba filled his waking thoughts and dreams; a fleeting fantasy became a vision and prophecy. He raised the holy banner, and a reckless promise of success slipped from the lips of the prophet. His journey from Medina to Mecca had the peaceful and solemn grandeur of a pilgrimage: seventy camels, adorned for sacrifice, led the way; the sacred ground was honored; and captives were released without ransom to showcase his mercy and devotion. However, as soon as Muhammad reached the plain, just a day away from the city, he exclaimed, “They have clothed themselves in tiger skins”: the strength and determination of the Quraish hindered his advance, and the wandering Arabs of the desert might abandon or betray a leader they had followed for the chance of plunder. The fearless visionary transformed into a cautious strategist: he set aside his title of apostle during negotiations; made a ten-year truce with the Quraish and their allies; agreed to return the exiles of Mecca who converted to his faith; and only asked, for the coming year, the modest privilege of entering the city as a friend and staying three days to perform the pilgrimage rites. A cloud of shame and disappointment loomed over the retreat of the Muslims, justly blaming the failure of a prophet who had frequently cited the proof of success. The faith and hope of the pilgrims were reignited by the sight of Mecca: their swords were sheathed; seven times, following the steps of the prophet, they circled the Kaaba. The Quraish retreated to the hills, and after the usual sacrifice, Muhammad left the city on the fourth day. The people were inspired by his devotion; the rival leaders were either intimidated, divided, or seduced; and both Khalid and Amr, the future conquerors of Syria and Egypt, wisely abandoned the failing cause of idolatry. Muhammad's power grew with the loyalty of the Arabian tribes; ten thousand soldiers gathered for the conquest of Mecca, and the idolaters, being the weaker side, were easily found guilty of breaching the truce. Enthusiasm and discipline fueled the march, keeping the plan secret until the sight of ten thousand fires shocked the Quraish, announcing the enemy's intentions and overwhelming strength. The arrogant Abu Sufyan handed over the keys to the city, marveling at the variety of weapons and banners passing before him in review; he noted that the son of Abdullah had gained a mighty kingdom and admitted, under Omar's sword, that he was the messenger of the true God. Unlike the bloody return of Marius and Sulla, Muhammad's revenge was driven by religious fervor, and his wronged followers were eager to carry out or prevent a massacre. Instead of giving in to their passions and his own, the victorious exile forgave the offenses and united the factions of Mecca. His troops marched into the city in three groups: twenty-eight inhabitants were killed by Khalid's sword; eleven men and six women were marked for death by Muhammad's decree; yet he disapproved of his lieutenant's cruelty, and several of the most wanted victims owed their lives to his mercy or indifference. The leaders of the Quraish lay prostrate at his feet. "What mercy can you expect from the man you have wronged?" "We trust in the generosity of our relative." "And you won't be disappointed: go! You are safe, you are free." The people of Mecca earned their pardon by embracing Islam; and after seven years of exile, the fugitive preacher was crowned as the prince and prophet of his homeland. But the three hundred and sixty idols of the Kaaba were shamefully shattered: the house of God was cleansed and beautified; as an example for the future, the prophet once again fulfilled his duties as a pilgrim; and a lasting law was established that no nonbeliever should ever set foot in the holy city's territory.

The conquest of Mecca determined the faith and obedience of the Arabian tribes; who, according to the vicissitudes of fortune, had obeyed, or disregarded, the eloquence or the arms of the prophet. Indifference for rites and opinions still marks the character of the Bedoweens; and they might accept, as loosely as they hold, the doctrine of the Koran. Yet an obstinate remnant still adhered to the religion and liberty of their ancestors, and the war of Honain derived a proper appellation from the idols, whom Mahomet had vowed to destroy, and whom the confederates of Tayef had sworn to defend. Four thousand Pagans advanced with secrecy and speed to surprise the conqueror: they pitied and despised the supine negligence of the Koreish, but they depended on the wishes, and perhaps the aid, of a people who had so lately renounced their gods, and bowed beneath the yoke of their enemy. The banners of Medina and Mecca were displayed by the prophet; a crowd of Bedoweens increased the strength or numbers of the army, and twelve thousand Mussulmans entertained a rash and sinful presumption of their invincible strength. They descended without precaution into the valley of Honain: the heights had been occupied by the archers and slingers of the confederates; their numbers were oppressed, their discipline was confounded, their courage was appalled, and the Koreish smiled at their impending destruction. The prophet, on his white mule, was encompassed by the enemies: he attempted to rush against their spears in search of a glorious death: ten of his faithful companions interposed their weapons and their breasts; three of these fell dead at his feet: "O my brethren," he repeatedly cried, with sorrow and indignation, "I am the son of Abdallah, I am the apostle of truth! O man, stand fast in the faith! O God, send down thy succor!" His uncle Abbas, who, like the heroes of Homer, excelled in the loudness of his voice, made the valley resound with the recital of the gifts and promises of God: the flying Moslems returned from all sides to the holy standard; and Mahomet observed with pleasure that the furnace was again rekindled: his conduct and example restored the battle, and he animated his victorious troops to inflict a merciless revenge on the authors of their shame. From the field of Honain, he marched without delay to the siege of Tayef, sixty miles to the south-east of Mecca, a fortress of strength, whose fertile lands produce the fruits of Syria in the midst of the Arabian desert. A friendly tribe, instructed (I know not how) in the art of sieges, supplied him with a train of battering-rams and military engines, with a body of five hundred artificers. But it was in vain that he offered freedom to the slaves of Tayef; that he violated his own laws by the extirpation of the fruit-trees; that the ground was opened by the miners; that the breach was assaulted by the troops. After a siege of twenty-days, the prophet sounded a retreat; but he retreated with a song of devout triumph, and affected to pray for the repentance and safety of the unbelieving city. The spoils of this fortunate expedition amounted to six thousand captives, twenty-four thousand camels, forty thousand sheep, and four thousand ounces of silver: a tribe who had fought at Honain redeemed their prisoners by the sacrifice of their idols; but Mahomet compensated the loss, by resigning to the soldiers his fifth of the plunder, and wished, for their sake, that he possessed as many head of cattle as there were trees in the province of Tehama. Instead of chastising the disaffection of the Koreish, he endeavored to cut out their tongues, (his own expression,) and to secure their attachment by a superior measure of liberality: Abu Sophian alone was presented with three hundred camels and twenty ounces of silver; and Mecca was sincerely converted to the profitable religion of the Koran.

The conquest of Mecca secured the loyalty and obedience of the Arabian tribes, who had, depending on their circumstances, either followed or ignored the prophet's words or military strength. A level of indifference toward rituals and beliefs still characterizes the Bedouins, meaning they might accept the teachings of the Koran as loosely as they hold them. However, a stubborn group continued to cling to the faith and freedom of their ancestors, and the Battle of Honain got its name from the idols that Mahomet had vowed to destroy, and which the allies of Tayef had sworn to protect. Four thousand Pagans moved quickly and secretly to ambush the conqueror; they pitied the lazy negligence of the Koreish, but relied on the favor and perhaps support of a people who had only recently abandoned their gods and bowed to their enemy's rule. The banners of Medina and Mecca were raised by the prophet; a crowd of Bedouins strengthened the army, and twelve thousand Muslims had an unwarranted confidence in their unbeatable strength. They carelessly descended into the valley of Honain, where the heights were held by the enemy's archers and slingers; their numbers were overwhelmed, their discipline fell apart, their courage waned, and the Koreish saw their impending defeat with satisfaction. The prophet, on his white mule, was surrounded by enemies; he attempted to charge at them in search of a glorious death, but ten of his loyal companions stepped in front of him, using their weapons and bodies as shields; three of them fell dead at his feet. "O my brothers," he cried repeatedly, filled with sorrow and anger, "I am the son of Abdallah, I am the messenger of truth! O people, stand firm in the faith! O God, send down Your help!" His uncle Abbas, who, like the heroes of Homer, had a powerful voice, echoed God’s gifts and promises throughout the valley: the fleeing Muslims rallied from all directions to their holy standard, and Mahomet was pleased to see their spirits reignited. His leadership and example turned the tide of battle, and he inspired his victorious troops to take ruthless revenge on those who had shamed them. After the battle of Honain, he quickly moved on to lay siege to Tayef, sixty miles southeast of Mecca, a stronghold with rich lands that yielded Syrian fruits in the heart of the Arabian desert. A friendly tribe, somehow knowledgeable in siege warfare, provided him with battering rams and military equipment, along with five hundred craftsmen. However, despite offering freedom to the slaves of Tayef, violating his own laws by destroying fruit trees, digging by miners, and sending troops to break through, after a twenty-day siege, the prophet called for a retreat; but he left with a song of devotion and pretended to pray for the repentance and safety of the unbelieving city. The spoils from this successful campaign included six thousand captives, twenty-four thousand camels, forty thousand sheep, and four thousand ounces of silver: a tribe that had fought at Honain redeemed their prisoners by sacrificing their idols; but Mahomet made up for the loss by giving his share of the plunder to the soldiers and wished he had as many livestock as there were trees in the Tehama province. Instead of punishing the Koreish's disloyalty, he aimed to win them over by a greater act of generosity; Abu Sophian alone received three hundred camels and twenty ounces of silver, and Mecca genuinely embraced the lucrative faith of the Koran.

The fugitives and auxiliaries complained, that they who had borne the burden were neglected in the season of victory "Alas!" replied their artful leader, "suffer me to conciliate these recent enemies, these doubtful proselytes, by the gift of some perishable goods. To your guard I intrust my life and fortunes. You are the companions of my exile, of my kingdom, of my paradise." He was followed by the deputies of Tayef, who dreaded the repetition of a siege. "Grant us, O apostle of God! a truce of three years, with the toleration of our ancient worship." "Not a month, not an hour." "Excuse us at least from the obligation of prayer." "Without prayer religion is of no avail." They submitted in silence: their temples were demolished, and the same sentence of destruction was executed on all the idols of Arabia. His lieutenants, on the shores of the Red Sea, the Ocean, and the Gulf of Persia, were saluted by the acclamations of a faithful people; and the ambassadors, who knelt before the throne of Medina, were as numerous (says the Arabian proverb) as the dates that fall from the maturity of a palm-tree. The nation submitted to the God and the sceptre of Mahomet: the opprobrious name of tribute was abolished: the spontaneous or reluctant oblations of arms and tithes were applied to the service of religion; and one hundred and fourteen thousand Moslems accompanied the last pilgrimage of the apostle.

The fugitives and auxiliaries complained that they, who had borne the burden, were overlooked in the time of victory. "Alas!" replied their cunning leader, "let me win over these recent enemies, these uncertain converts, by giving them some temporary gifts. I trust my life and fortunes to your protection. You are the companions of my exile, my kingdom, my paradise." He was followed by the deputies of Tayef, who feared another siege. "Grant us, O messenger of God! a truce of three years, allowing us to continue our traditional worship." "Not a month, not an hour." "At least excuse us from the prayer obligation." "Without prayer, religion is meaningless." They remained silent as their temples were destroyed, and the same fate befell all the idols of Arabia. His officers, along the shores of the Red Sea, the Ocean, and the Gulf of Persia, were greeted by the cheers of a loyal people; and the ambassadors who knelt before the throne of Medina were as numerous (as the Arabian proverb goes) as the dates that fall from a ripe palm tree. The nation submitted to the God and the rule of Mahomet; the disgraceful name of tribute was abolished; voluntary or forced contributions of arms and tithes were used for the service of religion; and one hundred and fourteen thousand Muslims joined the apostle's final pilgrimage.

When Heraclius returned in triumph from the Persian war, he entertained, at Emesa, one of the ambassadors of Mahomet, who invited the princes and nations of the earth to the profession of Islam. On this foundation the zeal of the Arabians has supposed the secret conversion of the Christian emperor: the vanity of the Greeks has feigned a personal visit of the prince of Medina, who accepted from the royal bounty a rich domain, and a secure retreat, in the province of Syria. But the friendship of Heraclius and Mahomet was of short continuance: the new religion had inflamed rather than assuaged the rapacious spirit of the Saracens, and the murder of an envoy afforded a decent pretence for invading, with three thousand soldiers, the territory of Palestine, that extends to the eastward of the Jordan. The holy banner was intrusted to Zeid; and such was the discipline or enthusiasm of the rising sect, that the noblest chiefs served without reluctance under the slave of the prophet. On the event of his decease, Jaafar and Abdallah were successively substituted to the command; and if the three should perish in the war, the troops were authorized to elect their general. The three leaders were slain in the battle of Muta, the first military action, which tried the valor of the Moslems against a foreign enemy. Zeid fell, like a soldier, in the foremost ranks: the death of Jaafar was heroic and memorable: he lost his right hand: he shifted the standard to his left: the left was severed from his body: he embraced the standard with his bleeding stumps, till he was transfixed to the ground with fifty honorable wounds. "Advance," cried Abdallah, who stepped into the vacant place, "advance with confidence: either victory or paradise is our own." The lance of a Roman decided the alternative; but the falling standard was rescued by Caled, the proselyte of Mecca: nine swords were broken in his hand; and his valor withstood and repulsed the superior numbers of the Christians. In the nocturnal council of the camp he was chosen to command: his skilful evolutions of the ensuing day secured either the victory or the retreat of the Saracens; and Caled is renowned among his brethren and his enemies by the glorious appellation of the Sword of God. In the pulpit, Mahomet described, with prophetic rapture, the crowns of the blessed martyrs; but in private he betrayed the feelings of human nature: he was surprised as he wept over the daughter of Zeid: "What do I see?" said the astonished votary. "You see," replied the apostle, "a friend who is deploring the loss of his most faithful friend." After the conquest of Mecca, the sovereign of Arabia affected to prevent the hostile preparations of Heraclius; and solemnly proclaimed war against the Romans, without attempting to disguise the hardships and dangers of the enterprise. The Moslems were discouraged: they alleged the want of money, or horses, or provisions; the season of harvest, and the intolerable heat of the summer: "Hell is much hotter," said the indignant prophet. He disdained to compel their service: but on his return he admonished the most guilty, by an excommunication of fifty days. Their desertion enhanced the merit of Abubeker, Othman, and the faithful companions who devoted their lives and fortunes; and Mahomet displayed his banner at the head of ten thousand horse and twenty thousand foot. Painful indeed was the distress of the march: lassitude and thirst were aggravated by the scorching and pestilential winds of the desert: ten men rode by turns on one camel; and they were reduced to the shameful necessity of drinking the water from the belly of that useful animal. In the mid-way, ten days' journey from Medina and Damascus, they reposed near the grove and fountain of Tabuc. Beyond that place Mahomet declined the prosecution of the war: he declared himself satisfied with the peaceful intentions, he was more probably daunted by the martial array, of the emperor of the East. But the active and intrepid Caled spread around the terror of his name; and the prophet received the submission of the tribes and cities, from the Euphrates to Ailah, at the head of the Red Sea. To his Christian subjects, Mahomet readily granted the security of their persons, the freedom of their trade, the property of their goods, and the toleration of their worship. The weakness of their Arabian brethren had restrained them from opposing his ambition; the disciples of Jesus were endeared to the enemy of the Jews; and it was the interest of a conqueror to propose a fair capitulation to the most powerful religion of the earth.

When Heraclius came back victorious from the Persian war, he hosted one of Muhammad's ambassadors in Emesa, who invited the princes and nations of the world to embrace Islam. Based on this, the Arabs believed that the Christian emperor secretly converted; the Greeks, in their vanity, imagined a personal visit from the prince of Medina, who received a generous land grant and a safe haven in Syria. However, the friendship between Heraclius and Muhammad was short-lived: the new religion fueled the aggressive spirit of the Saracens rather than calming it, and the murder of an envoy provided an excuse to invade Palestine with three thousand soldiers, extending east of the Jordan River. Zeid was given the holy banner; the discipline or fervor of the emerging sect was such that the noblest leaders willingly served under the prophet's slave. Following his death, Jaafar and Abdallah took turns leading; if all three were to fall in battle, the troops could elect a new leader. The three leaders were killed in the Battle of Muta, the first military engagement that tested the courage of the Muslims against a foreign enemy. Zeid fell bravely in the front lines: Jaafar died heroically, losing his right hand and shifting the banner to his left before that arm was cut off as well. He clung to the standard with his bleeding stumps until he was pierced with fifty wounds. "Advance," called Abdallah, stepping into the vacant spot, "advance with confidence: either victory or paradise is ours." A Roman's lance determined the outcome, but the fallen banner was saved by Caled, a convert from Mecca. Nine swords broke in his hand, and his bravery held off and pushed back the superior numbers of the Christians. In the camp's night council, he was chosen to lead: his strategic maneuvers the following day secured either victory or a safe retreat for the Saracens, and Caled became famous among his peers and enemies as the "Sword of God." In sermons, Muhammad described the crowns of the blessed martyrs with prophetic passion, but in private, he showed human emotion, weeping over Zeid's daughter. "What do I see?" asked the shocked follower. "You see," Muhammad replied, "a friend mourning the loss of his most faithful companion." After conquering Mecca, the ruler of Arabia aimed to thwart Heraclius's hostile plans and formally declared war against the Romans, honestly outlining the hardships and dangers involved. The Muslims felt disheartened, citing lack of money, horses, supplies, the harvest season, and the fierce summer heat: "Hell is much hotter," the furious prophet retorted. He refused to force their service, but upon returning, he warned the most guilty with a fifty-day excommunication. Their abandonment highlighted the valor of Abubeker, Othman, and the loyal companions who risked their lives and wealth; Muhammad raised his banner at the head of ten thousand cavalry and twenty thousand infantry. The march was indeed exhausting: fatigue and thirst were worsened by the burning and disease-ridden desert winds. Ten men alternated riding on one camel and were reduced to the humiliating necessity of drinking water from its stomach. Halfway, ten days' journey from Medina to Damascus, they rested near the grove and spring of Tabuc. Beyond that point, Muhammad decided not to continue the war: he claimed he was satisfied with peaceful intentions but was more likely intimidated by the military might of the Eastern emperor. Yet the brave and bold Caled spread terror with his name, and the prophet accepted the surrender of tribes and cities from the Euphrates to Ailah, at the head of the Red Sea. To his Christian subjects, Muhammad readily offered protection for their lives, freedom in trade, ownership of their property, and the right to practice their faith. The weakness of their Arab brethren prevented them from resisting his ambitions; the followers of Jesus found favor with the enemy of the Jews; and it was in the interest of a conqueror to propose a fair agreement to the most powerful religion on Earth.

Till the age of sixty-three years, the strength of Mahomet was equal to the temporal and spiritual fatigues of his mission. His epileptic fits, an absurd calumny of the Greeks, would be an object of pity rather than abhorrence; but he seriously believed that he was poisoned at Chaibar by the revenge of a Jewish female. During four years, the health of the prophet declined; his infirmities increased; but his mortal disease was a fever of fourteen days, which deprived him by intervals of the use of reason. As soon as he was conscious of his danger, he edified his brethren by the humility of his virtue or penitence. "If there be any man," said the apostle from the pulpit, "whom I have unjustly scourged, I submit my own back to the lash of retaliation. Have I aspersed the reputation of a Mussulman? let him proclaim my thoughts in the face of the congregation. Has any one been despoiled of his goods? the little that I possess shall compensate the principal and the interest of the debt." "Yes," replied a voice from the crowd, "I am entitled to three drams of silver." Mahomet heard the complaint, satisfied the demand, and thanked his creditor for accusing him in this world rather than at the day of judgment. He beheld with temperate firmness the approach of death; enfranchised his slaves (seventeen men, as they are named, and eleven women;) minutely directed the order of his funeral, and moderated the lamentations of his weeping friends, on whom he bestowed the benediction of peace. Till the third day before his death, he regularly performed the function of public prayer: the choice of Abubeker to supply his place, appeared to mark that ancient and faithful friend as his successor in the sacerdotal and regal office; but he prudently declined the risk and envy of a more explicit nomination. At a moment when his faculties were visibly impaired, he called for pen and ink to write, or, more properly, to dictate, a divine book, the sum and accomplishment of all his revelations: a dispute arose in the chamber, whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority of the Koran; and the prophet was forced to reprove the indecent vehemence of his disciples. If the slightest credit may be afforded to the traditions of his wives and companions, he maintained, in the bosom of his family, and to the last moments of his life, the dignity of an apostle, and the faith of an enthusiast; described the visits of Gabriel, who bade an everlasting farewell to the earth, and expressed his lively confidence, not only of the mercy, but of the favor, of the Supreme Being. In a familiar discourse he had mentioned his special prerogative, that the angel of death was not allowed to take his soul till he had respectfully asked the permission of the prophet. The request was granted; and Mahomet immediately fell into the agony of his dissolution: his head was reclined on the lap of Ayesha, the best beloved of all his wives; he fainted with the violence of pain; recovering his spirits, he raised his eyes towards the roof of the house, and, with a steady look, though a faltering voice, uttered the last broken, though articulate, words: "O God!..... pardon my sins....... Yes,...... I come,...... among my fellow-citizens on high;" and thus peaceably expired on a carpet spread upon the floor. An expedition for the conquest of Syria was stopped by this mournful event; the army halted at the gates of Medina; the chiefs were assembled round their dying master. The city, more especially the house, of the prophet, was a scene of clamorous sorrow of silent despair: fanaticism alone could suggest a ray of hope and consolation. "How can he be dead, our witness, our intercessor, our mediator, with God? By God he is not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is wrapped in a holy trance, and speedily will he return to his faithful people." The evidence of sense was disregarded; and Omar, unsheathing his cimeter, threatened to strike off the heads of the infidels, who should dare to affirm that the prophet was no more. The tumult was appeased by the weight and moderation of Abubeker. "Is it Mahomet," said he to Omar and the multitude, "or the God of Mahomet, whom you worship? The God of Mahomet liveth forever; but the apostle was a mortal like ourselves, and according to his own prediction, he has experienced the common fate of mortality." He was piously interred by the hands of his nearest kinsman, on the same spot on which he expired: Medina has been sanctified by the death and burial of Mahomet; and the innumerable pilgrims of Mecca often turn aside from the way, to bow, in voluntary devotion, before the simple tomb of the prophet.

Till the age of sixty-three, Muhammad's strength matched the physical and spiritual challenges of his mission. The claims of his epileptic seizures, which the Greeks absurdly accused him of, would be seen as something to pity rather than hate; but he genuinely believed he was poisoned at Khaybar by the revenge of a Jewish woman. Over four years, the prophet's health worsened; his ailments increased, but his fatal illness was a fever lasting fourteen days, which intermittently robbed him of his sanity. Once he realized his danger, he inspired his followers with the humility of his virtue and repentance. "If there is anyone," he said from the pulpit, "whom I have unjustly whipped, I offer my own back to be lashed in retribution. Have I tarnished a Muslim's reputation? Let him speak my thoughts before the congregation. Has anyone been deprived of their possessions? What little I own shall compensate for the principal and interest of the debt." "Yes," replied a voice from the crowd, "I am owed three dirhams of silver." Muhammad heard the complaint, settled the debt, and thanked his creditor for addressing him in this world rather than at the Day of Judgment. He faced death with calmness; freed his slaves (seventeen men, as listed, and eleven women); carefully arranged his funeral, and restrained the grief of his weeping friends, blessing them with peace. Until three days before his death, he led public prayers regularly. The selection of Abu Bakr to take his place seemed to indicate that this ancient and loyal friend was to be his successor in both religious and political roles, but he wisely avoided the perils and jealousy of a more explicit appointment. At a time when his faculties were clearly fading, he called for pen and ink to write, or more accurately, to dictate, a divine book that summarized all his revelations: a debate broke out in the room about whether he should be allowed to supersede the authority of the Quran; and the prophet had to chastise the excessive fervor of his followers. If we can believe the accounts of his wives and companions, he maintained, within his family, the dignity of an apostle and the passion of a believer until his last moments; spoke of the visits from Gabriel, who bade him a final farewell from Earth, and expressed his deep confidence in both the mercy and favor of the Supreme Being. In an informal conversation, he mentioned his unique privilege that the angel of death was not allowed to take his soul until he respectfully requested the prophet's permission. The request was made; and Muhammad immediately fell into the throes of death: his head rested on the lap of Aisha, the most beloved of his wives; he fainted from the intensity of pain; regaining his senses, he looked up at the ceiling of the house, and, with a steady gaze, though trembling voice, uttered his final broken but clear words: "O God!..... forgive my sins....... Yes,...... I come,...... among my fellow citizens in the afterlife;" and thus he peacefully passed away on a carpet spread on the floor. An expedition to conquer Syria was halted by this sorrowful event; the army paused at the gates of Medina; the leaders gathered around their dying master. The city, especially the prophet's home, was filled with loud grief and silent despair: only fanaticism could provide a glimmer of hope and solace. "How can he be dead, our witness, our intercessor, our mediator with God? By God, he is not dead: like Moses and Jesus, he is in a holy trance and will soon return to his faithful people." The evidence of reality was ignored; and Omar, unsheathing his sword, threatened to behead anyone who dared to say the prophet was no longer alive. The chaos was calmed by Abu Bakr's weighty and measured response. "Is it Muhammad," he said to Omar and the crowd, "or the God of Muhammad that you worship? The God of Muhammad lives forever; but the apostle was mortal like us, and as he predicted, he has faced the common fate of mortality." He was buried by the hands of his closest relative at the same spot where he died: Medina has been sanctified by Muhammad's death and burial; and countless pilgrims to Mecca often divert from their path to bow in voluntary devotion before the simple tomb of the prophet.

At the conclusion of the life of Mahomet, 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 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 Hera, 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 labor 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 dæmon 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 and middle state between self-illusion and voluntary fraud. Charity may believe that the original motives of Mahomet 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 Mahomet, 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 valor of his servants. In the exercise of political government, he was compelled to abate of the stern rigor 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 Mahomet 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 Mahomet 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 will 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 innocence, the sins of Mahomet may be allowed as an 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. Even in a conqueror or a priest, I can surprise a word or action of unaffected humanity; and the decree of Mahomet, that, in the sale of captives, the mothers should never be separated from their children, may suspend, or moderate, the censure of the historian.

At the end of Mahomet's life, it might be expected that I would weigh his faults and virtues, and determine whether he is better described as an enthusiast or an impostor. Even if I had known the son of Abdallah well, the task would still be challenging, and the outcome uncertain: after twelve centuries, I can only vaguely see his figure through a haze of religious incense; and if I could accurately portray a moment, that fleeting likeness wouldn't properly reflect the hermit of Mount Hera, the preacher of Mecca, and the conqueror of Arabia. The leader of a significant revolution seems to have had a devout and reflective nature: once marriage lifted him out of poverty, he steered clear of ambition and greed; and until he was forty, he lived a life of innocence and would have died without renown. The idea of the unity of God aligns closely with nature and reason; and a brief conversation with Jews and Christians would lead him to look down upon and loathe the idolatry practiced in Mecca. It was a man’s duty and responsibility as a citizen to share the doctrine of salvation and free his country from the grip of sin and error. The focused energy of a mind fixated on one goal could turn a general obligation into a personal calling; the passionate ideas of the mind would be interpreted as divine inspiration; the effort of thought would turn into ecstasy and vision; and the inner feelings, the unseen guide, would be envisioned as an angel of God. The leap from enthusiasm to deceit is risky and fraught with danger: Socrates’ dæmon is a notable example of how a wise person can fool themselves, how a good person can mislead others, and how conscience can fall asleep in a murky zone between self-deception and willful fraud. Kindness might believe that Mahomet's original intentions were based on pure, genuine goodwill; however, a human missionary cannot easily embrace stubborn nonbelievers who dismiss his claims, scorn his arguments, and persecute him; he might forgive his personal foes, but he can justly despise the enemies of God; the fierce feelings of pride and vengeance burned within Mahomet, and he longed, like the prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of those rebels he had condemned. The injustices of Mecca and the choice of Medina turned the citizen into a ruler, and the humble preacher into a military leader; but his sword was sanctified by the examples of the saints; and the same God who punishes a sinful world with plagues and earthquakes might inspire his servants with courage for either conversion or punishment. In running a political government, he had to soften the strictness of fanaticism, somewhat yield to the biases and emotions of his followers, and even use humanity’s vices as tools for their salvation. The use of deceit and treachery, cruelty and injustice, often aided the spread of the faith; and Mahomet commanded or accepted the assassination of the Jews and idolaters who managed to escape from the battlefield. With the repeated commission of such acts, Mahomet’s character must have gradually become tarnished; and the impact of such harmful behaviors would hardly be counterbalanced by the practice of personal and social virtues needed to uphold the reputation of a prophet among his followers and friends. In his final years, ambition was his driving force; and a politician might suspect he secretly smirked (the victorious impostor!) at the fervor of his youth and the gullibility of his followers. A philosopher would note that their gullibility and his success would serve to strengthen his conviction in his divine mission, that his interests and beliefs were inextricably linked, and that his conscience would be at peace with the belief that he alone was exempt from the Deity's demands for moral and positive laws. If he held onto any trace of his original innocence, Mahomet’s sins might be seen as proof of his sincerity. In the pursuit of truth, the methods of deceit and fiction could be considered less blameworthy; and he would have been appalled by the foulness of the means, had he not been convinced of the significance and righteousness of the end. Even in a conqueror or a priest, I can find moments or actions of genuine humanity; and Mahomet's decree that, in the sale of captives, mothers should never be separated from their children, might temper or soften the historian's criticism.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part VII.

The good sense of Mahomet 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 Mahomet affirmed, that the fervor 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, Mahomet 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 favor of his conjugal society. What is singular enough, they were all widows, excepting only Ayesha, the daughter of Abubeker. She was doubtless a virgin, since Mahomet 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 Ayesha, gave her a superior ascendant: she was beloved and trusted by the prophet; and, after his death, the daughter of Abubeker was long revered as the mother of the faithful. Her behavior had been ambiguous and indiscreet: in a nocturnal march she was accidentally left behind; and in the morning Ayesha returned to the camp with a man. The temper of Mahomet 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 Zeineb, the wife of Zeid, and with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the interest of his reputation. At the house of Zeid, his freedman and adopted son, he beheld, in a loose undress, the beauty of Zeineb, 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, Hafna, 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 Mary. 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 clamors of his wives. In a solitary retreat of thirty days, he labored, alone with Mary, 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 in 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 Mahomet 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 labor of the Grecian Hercules. A more serious and decent excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to Cadijah. 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 Ayesha, with the insolence of a blooming beauty; "has not God given you a better in her place?" "No, by God," said Mahomet, with an effusion of honest gratitude, "there never 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."

The good judgment of Muhammad looked down on the showiness of royalty: the messenger of God took on the humble tasks of the household. He lit the fire, cleaned the floor, milked the goats, and repaired his shoes and woolen clothes with his own hands. Rejecting the suffering and merit of a hermit, he followed the simple diet of an Arab and a soldier with ease and without pride. On special occasions, he treated his friends to abundant rustic feasts; however, there were many weeks when no fire was lit in the prophet's home. He abstained from wine, which was reflected in his life; he satisfied his hunger with a small amount of barley bread, enjoyed milk and honey, but usually ate dates and drank water. Perfumes and women were the two pleasures that he craved, and his religion did not forbid them; Muhammad claimed that these innocent enjoyments heightened his devotion. The hot climate of Arabia heated the blood of its people, and their lustful nature has been noted by ancient writers. Their excesses were governed by the civil and religious laws of the Quran: their incest was criticized; the unchecked freedom of polygamy was limited to four legitimate wives or concubines; their rights to intimacy and dowry were fairly established; divorce was discouraged, adultery was treated as a serious crime; and fornication, for both sexes, was punished with a hundred lashes. Such were the calm and rational teachings of the lawgiver: but in his personal life, Muhammad indulged his human desires and took advantage of his position as a prophet. A special revelation excused him from the laws that he had placed on his people; women were freely available to him, which sparked admiration rather than scandal among devout Muslims. If we recall the seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines of wise Solomon, we can appreciate the modesty of Muhammad, who took no more than seventeen or fifteen wives; eleven are mentioned who lived in Medina in separate quarters around the home of the prophet, sharing his company in turns. Interestingly, all of them were widows except Ayesha, the daughter of Abubakar. She was surely a virgin, as Muhammad consummated their marriage (such is the early maturity of this climate) when she was just nine years old. Ayesha’s youth, beauty, and spirit gave her a unique advantage: she was loved and trusted by the prophet and was long honored as the mother of the faithful after his death. Her behavior, however, was questionable and indiscreet: during a night march, she was accidentally left behind, and the next morning, Ayesha returned to camp with a man. Muhammad had a jealous disposition, but a divine revelation reassured him of her innocence; he punished her accusers and established a law of domestic peace, stating that no woman should be condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her committing adultery. In his encounters with Zeinab, the wife of Zaid, and with Mary, an Egyptian captive, the lovestruck prophet overlooked the implications for his reputation. At Zaid's home, his freedman and adopted son, he caught sight of the beautiful Zeinab, dressed casually, and he expressed his ardent desire. The grateful freedman understood the hint and readily surrendered to the affection of his benefactor. But because this family tie raised doubts and scandals, the angel Gabriel came down from heaven to validate the action, nullify the adoption, and gently reprimand the prophet for doubting God's leniency. One of his wives, Hafsa, the daughter of Omar, surprised him on her bed with his Egyptian captive: she promised secrecy and forgiveness, while he swore to reject Mary. Both failed to keep their promises, and Gabriel descended again with a chapter of the Quran, absolving him of his oath and encouraging him to enjoy his captives and concubines without regard for his wives’ grievances. In a thirty-day retreat, he stayed alone with Mary to fulfill the angel's orders. Once his desires had been satisfied, he called his eleven wives to him, criticized their disobedience and indiscretion, and threatened them with divorce in this life and the next; a severe threat, as those who had shared the prophet's bed would forever lose the chance for a second marriage. Perhaps Muhammad's excesses can be justified by the tradition of his extraordinary abilities; he possessed the strength of thirty of Adam's descendants and could match the legendary feats of Hercules. A more plausible and respectful excuse can be drawn from his loyalty to Khadijah. Throughout their twenty-four years of marriage, her young husband refrained from engaging in polygamy, and the dignity or feelings of the esteemed matron were never dishonored by a rival's presence. After her death, he placed her among the four perfect women, alongside Moses' sister, Jesus' mother, and Fatima, his most cherished daughter. "Was she not old?" Ayesha asked, showcasing the arrogance of her youthful beauty, "Hasn't God given you someone better?" "No, by God," Muhammad responded with genuine gratitude, "there can never be a better! She believed in me when others despised me; she supported me 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 Mahomet were fatally disappointed. The virgin Ayesha, and his ten widows of mature age and approved fertility, were barren in his potent embraces. The four sons of Cadijah died in their infancy. Mary, 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. Cadijah 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. The merit and misfortunes of Ali and his descendants will lead me to anticipate, in this place, the series of the Saracen caliphs, a title which describes the commanders of the faithful as the vicars and successors of the apostle of God.

In the biggest embrace of polygamy, the founder of a religion and empire might aim to increase the chances of having many descendants and a direct line of succession. Mahomet's hopes were tragically unfulfilled. The virgin Ayesha and his ten widows, who were of age and had proven they could bear children, remained childless despite his powerful touch. The four sons with Cadijah died in infancy. Mary, his Egyptian concubine, was cherished by him for giving birth to Ibrahim. After fifteen months, the prophet mourned at his grave; however, he calmly faced the mockery from his enemies and countered the praise or belief of the Muslims by assuring them that a solar eclipse was not caused by the death of the child. Cadijah also gave him four daughters, who were married to his most loyal disciples: the three oldest died before him, but Fatima, who held his trust and affection, married her cousin Ali and became the mother of a distinguished lineage. The virtues and misfortunes of Ali and his descendants prompt me to mention here the lineup of the Saracen caliphs, a title that refers to the leaders of the faithful as the representatives and successors of God's apostle.

The birth, the alliance, the character of Ali, which exalted him above the rest of his countrymen, might justify his claim to the vacant throne of Arabia. The son of Abu Taleb was, in his own right, the chief of the family of Hashem, and the hereditary prince or guardian of the city and temple of Mecca. The light of prophecy was extinct; but the husband of Fatima might expect the inheritance and blessing of her father: the Arabs had sometimes been patient of a female reign; and the two grandsons of the prophet had often been fondled in his lap, and shown in his pulpit as the hope of his age, and the chief of the youth of paradise. The first of the true believers might aspire to march before them in this world and in the next; and if some were of a graver and more rigid cast, the zeal and virtue of Ali were never outstripped by any recent proselyte. He united the qualifications of a poet, a soldier, and a saint: his wisdom still breathes in a collection of moral and religious sayings; and every antagonist, in the combats of the tongue or of the sword, was subdued by his eloquence and valor. From the first hour of his mission to the last rites of his funeral, the apostle was never forsaken by a generous friend, whom he delighted to name his brother, his vicegerent, and the faithful Aaron of a second Moses. The son of Abu Taleb was afterwards reproached for neglecting to secure his interest by a solemn declaration of his right, which would have silenced all competition, and sealed his succession by the decrees of Heaven. But the unsuspecting hero confided in himself: the jealousy of empire, and perhaps the fear of opposition, might suspend the resolutions of Mahomet; and the bed of sickness was besieged by the artful Ayesha, the daughter of Abubeker, and the enemy of Ali.

The birth, the alliance, and the character of Ali set him apart from the rest of his fellow countrymen, justifying his claim to the vacant throne of Arabia. The son of Abu Talib was, on his own merit, the leader of the Hashem family and the hereditary prince or protector of the city and the temple of Mecca. Although the light of prophecy had faded, the husband of Fatima could expect to inherit and be blessed by her father: the Arabs had occasionally tolerated a female leader; and the two grandsons of the prophet had often been cherished by him and presented from his pulpit as the hope of their time and the leaders of the youth of paradise. The foremost of the true believers could aim to lead them in this life and the next; and while some were more serious and rigid, the passion and virtue of Ali were never surpassed by any recent convert. He combined the talents of a poet, a soldier, and a saint: his wisdom is still reflected in a collection of moral and religious sayings, and every opponent, in debates or battles, was overcome by his eloquence and bravery. From the very beginning of his mission until the final rites of his funeral, the apostle was always supported by a loyal friend, whom he was pleased to call his brother, his deputy, and the faithful Aaron of a second Moses. The son of Abu Talib was later criticized for failing to secure his position with a formal declaration of his right, which would have silenced all competition and confirmed his succession by divine decree. However, the unsuspecting hero trusted in himself: the jealousy of power, and perhaps the fear of opposition, could have delayed Mahomet's decisions; and the sickbed was surrounded by the cunning Ayesha, the daughter of Abubeker, and Ali's rival.

The silence and death of the prophet restored the liberty of the people; and his companions convened an assembly to deliberate on the choice of his successor. The hereditary claim and lofty spirit of Ali were offensive to an aristocracy of elders, desirous of bestowing and resuming the sceptre by a free and frequent election: the Koreish could never be reconciled to the proud preëminence of the line of Hashem; the ancient discord of the tribes was rekindled, the fugitives of Mecca and the auxiliaries of Medina asserted their respective merits; and the rash proposal of choosing two independent caliphs would have crushed in their infancy the religion and empire of the Saracens. The tumult was appeased by the disinterested resolution of Omar, who, suddenly renouncing his own pretensions, stretched forth his hand, and declared himself the first subject of the mild and venerable Abubeker. The urgency of the moment, and the acquiescence of the people, might excuse this illegal and precipitate measure; but Omar himself confessed from the pulpit, that if any Mussulman should hereafter presume to anticipate the suffrage of his brethren, both the elector and the elected would be worthy of death. After the simple inauguration of Abubeker, he was obeyed in Medina, Mecca, and the provinces of Arabia: the Hashemites alone declined the oath of fidelity; and their chief, in his own house, maintained, above six months, a sullen and independent reserve; without listening to the threats of Omar, who attempted to consume with fire the habitation of the daughter of the apostle. The death of Fatima, and the decline of his party, subdued the indignant spirit of Ali: he condescended to salute the commander of the faithful, accepted his excuse of the necessity of preventing their common enemies, and wisely rejected his courteous offer of abdicating the government of the Arabians. After a reign of two years, the aged caliph was summoned by the angel of death. In his testament, with the tacit approbation of his companions, he bequeathed the sceptre to the firm and intrepid virtue of Omar. "I have no occasion," said the modest candidate, "for the place." "But the place has occasion for you," replied Abubeker; who expired with a fervent prayer, that the God of Mahomet would ratify his choice, and direct the Mussulmans in the way of concord and obedience. The prayer was not ineffectual, since Ali himself, in a life of privacy and prayer, professed to revere the superior worth and dignity of his rival; who comforted him for the loss of empire, by the most flattering marks of confidence and esteem. In the twelfth year of his reign, Omar received a mortal wound from the hand of an assassin: he rejected with equal impartiality the names of his son and of Ali, refused to load his conscience with the sins of his successor, and devolved on six of the most respectable companions the arduous task of electing a commander of the faithful. On this occasion, Ali was again blamed by his friends for submitting his right to the judgment of men, for recognizing their jurisdiction by accepting a place among the six electors. He might have obtained their suffrage, had he deigned to promise a strict and servile conformity, not only to the Koran and tradition, but likewise to the determinations of two seniors. With these limitations, Othman, the secretary of Mahomet, accepted the government; nor was it till after the third caliph, twenty-four years after the death of the prophet, that Ali was invested, by the popular choice, with the regal and sacerdotal office. The manners of the Arabians retained their primitive simplicity, and the son of Abu Taleb despised the pomp and vanity of this world. At the hour of prayer, he repaired to the mosch of Medina, clothed in a thin cotton gown, a coarse turban on his head, his slippers in one hand, and his bow in the other, instead of a walking-staff. The companions of the prophet, and the chiefs of the tribes, saluted their new sovereign, and gave him their right hands as a sign of fealty and allegiance.

The silence and death of the prophet restored the freedom of the people; his companions held a meeting to discuss the choice of his successor. Ali's hereditary claim and lofty spirit offended the aristocracy of elders, who wanted to give and take the power through regular elections. The Koreish could never accept the pride of the Hashem line; the old conflicts between the tribes flared up again, with the fugitives of Mecca and the auxiliaries of Medina arguing about their merits. The rash idea of choosing two independent caliphs could have crushed the young religion and empire of the Saracens. The chaos calmed down thanks to Omar’s selfless decision, as he suddenly set aside his own ambitions, reached out his hand, and declared himself the first subject of the gentle and respected Abubeker. The urgency of the situation and the people's agreement might have justified this illegal and hasty decision; however, Omar himself admitted from the pulpit that if any Muslim ever tried to jump the gun on the votes of his peers, both the voter and the elected would deserve death. After the simple inauguration of Abubeker, he was obeyed in Medina, Mecca, and the provinces of Arabia: the Hashemites alone refused the oath of loyalty; their leader, in his own home, kept a sulky and independent stance for over six months, ignoring Omar’s threats, who even tried to burn the house of the prophet's daughter. The death of Fatima and the decline of his supporters softened Ali’s angry spirit: he agreed to greet the commander of the faithful, accepted his excuse of needing to fend off their common enemies, and wisely turned down his polite offer to step down from leading the Arabs. After two years of rule, the elderly caliph was called by the angel of death. In his will, with the silent approval of his companions, he passed the power to the strong and fearless Omar. "I have no interest in the position," said the humble candidate. "But the position needs you," replied Abubeker, who passed away with a sincere prayer that the God of Mahomet would bless his choice and guide the Muslims toward unity and obedience. The prayer was effective, as Ali himself, choosing a life of privacy and prayer, claimed to respect the greater worth and dignity of his rival, who comforted him for the loss of power with generous signs of trust and respect. In the twelfth year of his reign, Omar was fatally wounded by an assassin: he fairly rejected both his son’s name and Ali’s, refused to burden his conscience with the sins of his successor, and passed the challenging task of electing a commander of the faithful to six of his most respected companions. On this occasion, Ali was again criticized by his friends for deferring his rights to human judgment by accepting a spot among the six electors. He could have secured their support if he had promised strict and submissive adherence, not only to the Koran and traditions but also to the decisions of two seniors. With these conditions, Othman, Mahomet's secretary, took on the leadership; it wasn’t until twenty-four years after the prophet's death that Ali was appointed, through popular choice, as the king and spiritual leader. The ways of the Arabs still reflected their original simplicity, and Abu Taleb's son disregarded the extravagance and vanity of this world. At prayer time, he went to the mosque in Medina, dressed in a thin cotton gown, wearing a rough turban, holding his slippers in one hand, and a bow in the other instead of a walking stick. The prophet’s companions and the tribe leaders greeted their new ruler and offered him their right hands to show loyalty and allegiance.

The mischiefs that flow from the contests of ambition are usually confined to the times and countries in which they have been agitated. But the religious discord of the friends and enemies of Ali has been renewed in every age of the Hegira, and is still maintained in the immortal hatred of the Persians and Turks. The former, who are branded with the appellation of Shiites or sectaries, have enriched the Mahometan creed with a new article of faith; and if Mahomet be the apostle, his companion Ali is the vicar, of God. In their private converse, in their public worship, they bitterly execrate the three usurpers who intercepted his indefeasible right to the dignity of Imam and Caliph; and the name of Omar expresses in their tongue the perfect accomplishment of wickedness and impiety. The Sonnites, who are supported by the general consent and orthodox tradition of the Mussulmans, entertain a more impartial, or at least a more decent, opinion. They respect the memory of Abubeker, Omar, Othman, and Ali, the holy and legitimate successors of the prophet. But they assign the last and most humble place to the husband of Fatima, in the persuasion that the order of succession was determined by the decrees of sanctity. An historian who balances the four caliphs with a hand unshaken by superstition, will calmly pronounce that their manners were alike pure and exemplary; that their zeal was fervent, and probably sincere; and that, in the midst of riches and power, their lives were devoted to the practice of moral and religious duties. But the public virtues of Abubeker and Omar, the prudence of the first, the severity of the second, maintained the peace and prosperity of their reigns. The feeble temper and declining age of Othman were incapable of sustaining the weight of conquest and empire. He chose, and he was deceived; he trusted, and he was betrayed: the most deserving of the faithful became useless or hostile to his government, and his lavish bounty was productive only of ingratitude and discontent. The spirit of discord went forth in the provinces: their deputies assembled at Medina; and the Charegites, the desperate fanatics who disclaimed the yoke of subordination and reason, were confounded among the free-born Arabs, who demanded the redress of their wrongs and the punishment of their oppressors. From Cufa, from Bassora, from Egypt, from the tribes of the desert, they rose in arms, encamped about a league from Medina, and despatched a haughty mandate to their sovereign, requiring him to execute justice, or to descend from the throne. His repentance began to disarm and disperse the insurgents; but their fury was rekindled by the arts of his enemies; and the forgery of a perfidious secretary was contrived to blast his reputation and precipitate his fall. The caliph had lost the only guard of his predecessors, the esteem and confidence of the Moslems: during a siege of six weeks his water and provisions were intercepted, and the feeble gates of the palace were protected only by the scruples of the more timorous rebels. Forsaken by those who had abused his simplicity, the hopeless and venerable caliph expected the approach of death: the brother of Ayesha marched at the head of the assassins; and Othman, with the Koran in his lap, was pierced with a multitude of wounds. A tumultuous anarchy of five days was appeased by the inauguration of Ali: his refusal would have provoked a general massacre. In this painful situation he supported the becoming pride of the chief of the Hashemites; declared that he had rather serve than reign; rebuked the presumption of the strangers; and required the formal, if not the voluntary, assent of the chiefs of the nation. He has never been accused of prompting the assassin of Omar; though Persia indiscreetly celebrates the festival of that holy martyr. The quarrel between Othman and his subjects was assuaged by the early mediation of Ali; and Hassan, the eldest of his sons, was insulted and wounded in the defence of the caliph. Yet it is doubtful whether the father of Hassan was strenuous and sincere in his opposition to the rebels; and it is certain that he enjoyed the benefit of their crime. The temptation was indeed of such magnitude as might stagger and corrupt the most obdurate virtue. The ambitious candidate no longer aspired to the barren sceptre of Arabia; the Saracens had been victorious in the East and West; and the wealthy kingdoms of Persia, Syria, and Egypt were the patrimony of the commander of the faithful.

The troubles that arise from ambition are typically limited to the times and places where they occur. However, the religious conflict among the supporters and opponents of Ali has been revived in every age since the Hegira, and it continues to fuel the enduring animosity between Persians and Turks. The former, known as Shiites or sectarians, have added a new article of faith to the Islamic belief system: if Muhammad is the prophet, his companion Ali is the representative of God. In their private conversations and public worship, they vehemently condemn the three usurpers who blocked his undeniable right to become Imam and Caliph; for them, the name of Omar symbolizes the ultimate expression of wickedness and irreverence. The Sonnites, backed by the general consensus and orthodox traditions of Muslims, hold a more balanced, or at least more respectful, view. They honor Abubeker, Omar, Othman, and Ali as the holy and legitimate successors of the prophet, but they place Ali last, believing that the line of succession was set by divine will. An unbiased historian would note that the four caliphs exhibited similarly pure and exemplary qualities; that their zeal was passionate, and likely sincere; and that, despite their wealth and power, they were committed to fulfilling their moral and religious responsibilities. The public virtues of Abubeker and Omar—the prudence of the first and the strictness of the second—ensured peace and prosperity during their reigns. Othman’s frail character and old age were not enough to bear the burdens of conquest and empire. He made poor choices and was misled; he placed his trust in the wrong people and was betrayed: the most loyal supporters became useless or turned against him, and his generous gifts led only to ingratitude and resentment. In the provinces, unrest emerged: their representatives gathered in Medina, and the Charegites, desperate fanatics rejecting submission and reason, mixed with the free-born Arabs demanding justice for their grievances and punishment for their oppressors. They mobilized from Kufa, Basra, Egypt, and the desert tribes, camped about a league from Medina, and sent a demanding message to their leader, urging him to deliver justice or step down. His regret began to weaken and scatter the rebels, but their anger was reignited by his enemies; a treacherous secretary forged documents to ruin his reputation and hasten his downfall. The caliph lost the only protection his predecessors had, the respect and trust of the Muslims: during a six-week siege, his food and water were cut off, and the palace’s fragile doors were held only by the hesitations of the more fearful rebels. Abandoned by those who had taken advantage of his naivety, the hopeless and venerable caliph awaited death: Ayesha’s brother led the assassins, and Othman, with the Koran in his lap, was stabbed multiple times. A chaotic anarchy lasted for five days until Ali took charge: refusing would have triggered a widespread massacre. In this difficult moment, he upheld the dignity expected of the leader of the Hashemites; he stated that he would prefer to serve than to rule; rebuked the arrogance of the outsiders; and demanded the formal, if not voluntary, agreement of the nation’s leaders. He has never been accused of encouraging Omar’s assassin, even though Persia mistakenly commemorates the martyrdom with a festival. The conflict between Othman and his people was soothed early on by Ali’s mediation, and Hassan, his eldest son, was insulted and injured while defending the caliph. Yet, it’s uncertain whether Hassan’s father truly and earnestly opposed the rebels; it's clear he benefited from their actions. The temptation was indeed so great that it could sway even the toughest virtue. The ambitious candidate no longer sought the empty throne of Arabia; the Saracens had triumphed in both the East and West; and the wealthy kingdoms of Persia, Syria, and Egypt became the inheritance of the commander of the faithful.





Chapter L: Description Of Arabia And Its Inhabitants.—Part VIII.

A life of prayer and contemplation had not chilled the martial activity of Ali; but in a mature age, after a long experience of mankind, he still betrayed in his conduct the rashness and indiscretion of youth. In the first days of his reign, he neglected to secure, either by gifts or fetters, the doubtful allegiance of Telha and Zobeir, two of the most powerful of the Arabian chiefs. They escaped from Medina to Mecca, and from thence to Bassora; erected the standard of revolt; and usurped the government of Irak, or Assyria, which they had vainly solicited as the reward of their services. The mask of patriotism is allowed to cover the most glaring inconsistencies; and the enemies, perhaps the assassins, of Othman now demanded vengeance for his blood. They were accompanied in their flight by Ayesha, the widow of the prophet, who cherished, to the last hour of her life, an implacable hatred against the husband and the posterity of Fatima. The most reasonable Moslems were scandalized, that the mother of the faithful should expose in a camp her person and character; but the superstitious crowd was confident that her presence would sanctify the justice, and assure the success, of their cause. At the head of twenty thousand of his loyal Arabs, and nine thousand valiant auxiliaries of Cufa, the caliph encountered and defeated the superior numbers of the rebels under the walls of Bassora. Their leaders, Telha and Zobeir, were slain in the first battle that stained with civil blood the arms of the Moslems. After passing through the ranks to animate the troops, Ayesha had chosen her post amidst the dangers of the field. In the heat of the action, seventy men, who held the bridle of her camel, were successively killed or wounded; and the cage or litter, in which she sat, was stuck with javelins and darts like the quills of a porcupine. The venerable captive sustained with firmness the reproaches of the conqueror, and was speedily dismissed to her proper station at the tomb of Mahomet, with the respect and tenderness that was still due to the widow of the apostle. After this victory, which was styled the Day of the Camel, Ali marched against a more formidable adversary; against Moawiyah, the son of Abu Sophian, who had assumed the title of caliph, and whose claim was supported by the forces of Syria and the interest of the house of Ommiyah. From the passage of Thapsacus, the plain of Siffin extends along the western bank of the Euphrates. On this spacious and level theatre, the two competitors waged a desultory war of one hundred and ten days. In the course of ninety actions or skirmishes, the loss of Ali was estimated at twenty-five, that of Moawiyah at forty-five, thousand soldiers; and the list of the slain was dignified with the names of five-and-twenty veterans who had fought at Beder under the standard of Mahomet. In this sanguinary contest the lawful caliph displayed a superior character of valor and humanity. His troops were strictly enjoined to await the first onset of the enemy, to spare their flying brethren, and to respect the bodies of the dead, and the chastity of the female captives. He generously proposed to save the blood of the Moslems by a single combat; but his trembling rival declined the challenge as a sentence of inevitable death. The ranks of the Syrians were broken by the charge of a hero who was mounted on a piebald horse, and wielded with irresistible force his ponderous and two-edged sword. As often as he smote a rebel, he shouted the Allah Acbar, "God is victorious!" and in the tumult of a nocturnal battle, he was heard to repeat four hundred times that tremendous exclamation. The prince of Damascus already meditated his flight; but the certain victory was snatched from the grasp of Ali by the disobedience and enthusiasm of his troops. Their conscience was awed by the solemn appeal to the books of the Koran which Moawiyah exposed on the foremost lances; and Ali was compelled to yield to a disgraceful truce and an insidious compromise. He retreated with sorrow and indignation to Cufa; his party was discouraged; the distant provinces of Persia, of Yemen, and of Egypt, were subdued or seduced by his crafty rival; and the stroke of fanaticism, which was aimed against the three chiefs of the nation, was fatal only to the cousin of Mahomet. In the temple of Mecca, three Charegites or enthusiasts discoursed of the disorders of the church and state: they soon agreed, that the deaths of Ali, of Moawiyah, and of his friend Amrou, the viceroy of Egypt, would restore the peace and unity of religion. Each of the assassins chose his victim, poisoned his dagger, devoted his life, and secretly repaired to the scene of action. Their resolution was equally desperate: but the first mistook the person of Amrou, and stabbed the deputy who occupied his seat; the prince of Damascus was dangerously hurt by the second; the lawful caliph, in the mosch of Cufa, received a mortal wound from the hand of the third. He expired in the sixty-third year of his age, and mercifully recommended to his children, that they would despatch the murderer by a single stroke. The sepulchre of Ali was concealed from the tyrants of the house of Ommiyah; but in the fourth age of the Hegira, a tomb, a temple, a city, arose near the ruins of Cufa. Many thousands of the Shiites repose in holy ground at the feet of the vicar of God; and the desert is vivified by the numerous and annual visits of the Persians, who esteem their devotion not less meritorious than the pilgrimage of Mecca.

A life of prayer and contemplation had not cooled Ali's martial spirit; but in his later years, after a long experience with people, he still showed the recklessness and thoughtlessness of youth in his actions. In the early days of his reign, he failed to secure the uncertain loyalty of Telha and Zobeir, two of the most powerful Arabian leaders, either by offering gifts or by force. They escaped from Medina to Mecca, and then to Bassora, where they raised the flag of revolt and took control of Irak, or Assyria, which they had unsuccessfully sought as a reward for their services. The facade of patriotism can cover up the most glaring inconsistencies; the enemies, perhaps the assassins, of Othman now demanded justice for his death. They were joined in their escape by Ayesha, the widow of the prophet, who held an unyielding hatred toward the husband and descendants of Fatima until her last days. Many reasonable Muslims were appalled that the mother of the faithful would expose herself and her reputation in a camp; but the superstitious crowd believed that her presence would bless their cause and ensure their success. Leading twenty thousand of his loyal Arabs and nine thousand brave reinforcements from Cufa, the caliph faced and defeated the greater forces of the rebels outside Bassora. Their leaders, Telha and Zobeir, were killed in the first battle that stained the hands of the Muslims with civil blood. After moving through the ranks to rally the troops, Ayesha took her position in the midst of the battlefield's dangers. During the fierce fighting, seventy men who held the reins of her camel were killed or wounded, and the enclosure in which she sat was pierced with javelins and darts like a porcupine's quills. The respected captive bore the reproaches of the victor with dignity and was quickly sent back to her rightful place at the tomb of Mahomet, receiving the respect and care still owed to the widow of the apostle. After this victory, known as the Day of the Camel, Ali moved against a more formidable opponent: Moawiyah, the son of Abu Sophian, who had claimed the title of caliph, backed by the forces of Syria and the interests of the Ommiyah family. From the area of Thapsacus, the plain of Siffin extends along the western bank of the Euphrates. On this wide and flat battlefield, the two rivals fought a sporadic war for one hundred and ten days. Over the course of ninety battles or skirmishes, Ali's losses were estimated at twenty-five thousand, while Moawiyah's reached forty-five thousand soldiers; the list of the dead included twenty-five veterans who had fought at Beder under Mahomet's banner. In this bloody conflict, the rightful caliph showed extraordinary courage and compassion. His troops were strictly ordered to wait for the enemy's first attack, to spare their fleeing comrades, and to respect the bodies of the dead and the dignity of the female captives. He generously suggested that they could save the blood of Muslims through a one-on-one fight, but his fearful opponent rejected the challenge, seeing it as a death sentence. The ranks of the Syrians were broken by the charge of a hero on a piebald horse, swinging his massive, double-edged sword with unmatched force. Each time he struck a rebel, he shouted "Allahu Akbar," meaning "God is the Greatest!" and amid the chaos of a night battle, he was heard to repeat that powerful phrase four hundred times. The prince of Damascus was already thinking of fleeing; however, Ali's sure victory was lost due to the disobedience and fervor of his troops. They were influenced by a solemn appeal to the Quran when Moawiyah displayed it on the front lines, forcing Ali into a humiliating truce and a deceitful compromise. He retreated to Cufa with grief and anger; his supporters were disheartened; the distant regions of Persia, Yemen, and Egypt were either conquered or swayed by his crafty rival; and while a strike against the three leaders of the nation was aimed, it only succeeded in killing Mahomet's cousin. In the temple of Mecca, three Charegites or zealots discussed the chaos of the church and state: they soon agreed that the deaths of Ali, Moawiyah, and his friend Amrou, the governor of Egypt, would bring peace and unity to religion. Each assassin picked his target, poisoned his dagger, committed to his life’s mission, and stealthily headed to the scene. Their resolve was equally dangerous: the first mistakenly targeted Amrou and stabbed the deputy in his place; the second dangerously injured the prince of Damascus; and the third fatally wounded the rightful caliph in the mosque of Cufa. He died at the age of sixty-three, kindly urging his children to eliminate the murderer with a single blow. The grave of Ali was hidden from the oppressors of the Ommiyah family, but in the fourth century of the Hegira, a tomb, a temple, and a city arose near the ruins of Cufa. Thousands of Shiites rest on holy ground at the feet of the vicar of God; and the desert comes alive with the many annual visits from Persians who consider their devotion just as meritorious as the pilgrimage to Mecca.

The persecutors of Mahomet usurped the inheritance of his children; and the champions of idolatry became the supreme heads of his religion and empire. The opposition of Abu Sophian had been fierce and obstinate; his conversion was tardy and reluctant; his new faith was fortified by necessity and interest; he served, he fought, perhaps he believed; and the sins of the time of ignorance were expiated by the recent merits of the family of Ommiyah. Moawiyah, the son of Abu Sophian, and of the cruel Henda, was dignified, in his early youth, with the office or title of secretary of the prophet: the judgment of Omar intrusted him with the government of Syria; and he administered that important province above forty years, either in a subordinate or supreme rank. Without renouncing the fame of valor and liberality, he affected the reputation of humanity and moderation: a grateful people was attached to their benefactor; and the victorious Moslems were enriched with the spoils of Cyprus and Rhodes. The sacred duty of pursuing the assassins of Othman was the engine and pretence of his ambition. The bloody shirt of the martyr was exposed in the mosch of Damascus: the emir deplored the fate of his injured kinsman; and sixty thousand Syrians were engaged in his service by an oath of fidelity and revenge. Amrou, the conqueror of Egypt, himself an army, was the first who saluted the new monarch, and divulged the dangerous secret, that the Arabian caliphs might be created elsewhere than in the city of the prophet. The policy of Moawiyah eluded the valor of his rival; and, after the death of Ali, he negotiated the abdication of his son Hassan, whose mind was either above or below the government of the world, and who retired without a sigh from the palace of Cufa to an humble cell near the tomb of his grandfather. The aspiring wishes of the caliph were finally crowned by the important change of an elective to an hereditary kingdom. Some murmurs of freedom or fanaticism attested the reluctance of the Arabs, and four citizens of Medina refused the oath of fidelity; but the designs of Moawiyah were conducted with vigor and address; and his son Yezid, a feeble and dissolute youth, was proclaimed as the commander of the faithful and the successor of the apostle of God.

The persecutors of Muhammad took away the inheritance of his children, and the supporters of idol-worship became the top leaders of his religion and empire. Abu Sufyan's opposition was intense and stubborn; his conversion was slow and unwilling; his new faith was strengthened by necessity and self-interest; he served, he fought, and perhaps he even believed; and the wrongs of his earlier ignorance were atoned for by the recent merits of the Umayyad family. Muawiyah, the son of Abu Sufyan and the cruel Hind, was honored in his youth with the title of secretary to the prophet: Omar's judgment appointed him to govern Syria, and he managed that important province for over forty years, either as a subordinate or in a leading role. While maintaining his reputation for bravery and generosity, he also sought to be seen as compassionate and moderate: a grateful population was loyal to their benefactor, and the victorious Muslims gained wealth from the spoils of Cyprus and Rhodes. The sacred duty of pursuing Osman's assassins was his excuse and claim to ambition. The martyr's bloody shirt was displayed in the mosque of Damascus: the emir mourned for his wronged relative; and sixty thousand Syrians committed to serve him under an oath of loyalty and vengeance. Amr, the conqueror of Egypt, who was himself an army, was the first to greet the new ruler and revealed the risky secret that Arabian caliphs could be chosen outside the prophet's city. Muawiyah's strategy outsmarted the bravery of his opponent; after Ali's death, he secured the abdication of his son Hassan, whose ambitions were either too grand or too humble for worldly governance, and who left the palace of Kufa for a simple cell near his grandfather's tomb without a trace of regret. Ultimately, Muawiyah's aspirations succeeded with the significant shift from an elected to a hereditary kingdom. Some murmurs of freedom or zeal reflected the reluctance of the Arabs, and four citizens of Medina declined to pledge their loyalty; but Muawiyah carried out his plans with determination and skill, and his son Yazid, a weak and reckless youth, was proclaimed as the commander of the faithful and the successor of God's apostle.

A familiar story is related of the benevolence of one of the sons of Ali. In serving at table, a slave had inadvertently dropped a dish of scalding broth on his master: the heedless wretch fell prostrate, to deprecate his punishment, and repeated a verse of the Koran: "Paradise is for those who command their anger: "—"I am not angry: "—"and for those who pardon offences: "—"I pardon your offence: "—"and for those who return good for evil: "—"I give you your liberty and four hundred pieces of silver." With an equal measure of piety, Hosein, the younger brother of Hassan, inherited a remnant of his father's spirit, and served with honor against the Christians in the siege of Constantinople. The primogeniture of the line of Hashem, and the holy character of grandson of the apostle, had centred in his person, and he was at liberty to prosecute his claim against Yezid, the tyrant of Damascus, whose vices he despised, and whose title he had never deigned to acknowledge. A list was secretly transmitted from Cufa to Medina, of one hundred and forty thousand Moslems, who professed their attachment to his cause, and who were eager to draw their swords so soon as he should appear on the banks of the Euphrates. Against the advice of his wisest friends, he resolved to trust his person and family in the hands of a perfidious people. He traversed the desert of Arabia with a timorous retinue of women and children; but as he approached the confines of Irak he was alarmed by the solitary or hostile face of the country, and suspected either the defection or ruin of his party. His fears were just: Obeidollah, the governor of Cufa, had extinguished the first sparks of an insurrection; and Hosein, in the plain of Kerbela, was encompassed by a body of five thousand horse, who intercepted his communication with the city and the river. He might still have escaped to a fortress in the desert, that had defied the power of Cæsar and Chosroes, and confided in the fidelity of the tribe of Tai, which would have armed ten thousand warriors in his defence. In a conference with the chief of the enemy, he proposed the option of three honorable conditions: that he should be allowed to return to Medina, or be stationed in a frontier garrison against the Turks, or safely conducted to the presence of Yezid. But the commands of the caliph, or his lieutenant, were stern and absolute; and Hosein was informed that he must either submit as a captive and a criminal to the commander of the faithful, or expect the consequences of his rebellion. "Do you think," replied he, "to terrify me with death?" And, during the short respite of a night, he prepared with calm and solemn resignation to encounter his fate. He checked the lamentations of his sister Fatima, who deplored the impending ruin of his house. "Our trust," said Hosein, "is in God alone. All things, both in heaven and earth, must perish and return to their Creator. My brother, my father, my mother, were better than me, and every Mussulman has an example in the prophet." He pressed his friends to consult their safety by a timely flight: they unanimously refused to desert or survive their beloved master: and their courage was fortified by a fervent prayer and the assurance of paradise. On the morning of the fatal day, he mounted on horseback, with his sword in one hand and the Koran in the other: his generous band of martyrs consisted only of thirty-two horse and forty foot; but their flanks and rear were secured by the tent-ropes, and by a deep trench which they had filled with lighted fagots, according to the practice of the Arabs. The enemy advanced with reluctance, and one of their chiefs deserted, with thirty followers, to claim the partnership of inevitable death. In every close onset, or single combat, the despair of the Fatimites was invincible; but the surrounding multitudes galled them from a distance with a cloud of arrows, and the horses and men were successively slain; a truce was allowed on both sides for the hour of prayer; and the battle at length expired by the death of the last companions of Hosein. Alone, weary, and wounded, he seated himself at the door of his tent. As he tasted a drop of water, he was pierced in the mouth with a dart; and his son and nephew, two beautiful youths, were killed in his arms. He lifted his hands to heaven; they were full of blood; and he uttered a funeral prayer for the living and the dead. In a transport of despair his sister issued from the tent, and adjured the general of the Cufians, that he would not suffer Hosein to be murdered before his eyes: a tear trickled down his venerable beard; and the boldest of his soldiers fell back on every side as the dying hero threw himself among them. The remorseless Shamer, a name detested by the faithful, reproached their cowardice; and the grandson of Mahomet was slain with three-and-thirty strokes of lances and swords. After they had trampled on his body, they carried his head to the castle of Cufa, and the inhuman Obeidollah struck him on the mouth with a cane: "Alas," exclaimed an aged Mussulman, "on these lips have I seen the lips of the apostle of God!" In a distant age and climate, the tragic scene of the death of Hosein will awaken the sympathy of the coldest reader. On the annual festival of his martyrdom, in the devout pilgrimage to his sepulchre, his Persian votaries abandon their souls to the religious frenzy of sorrow and indignation.

A familiar story is told about the kindness of one of Ali's sons. While serving at the table, a servant accidentally dropped a dish of scalding broth on his master. The unfortunate man fell to the ground, begging for mercy, and recited a verse from the Quran: "Paradise is for those who control their anger:" — "I am not angry:" — "and for those who forgive offenses:" — "I forgive your offense:" — "and for those who repay good for evil:" — "I grant you your freedom and four hundred coins." With the same sense of honor, Hosein, the younger brother of Hassan, carried on his father's spirit and fought valiantly against the Christians during the siege of Constantinople. As the firstborn of the Hashem line and the holy grandson of the prophet, he had the right to pursue his claim against Yezid, the tyrant of Damascus, whom he despised and whose authority he had never accepted. A secret message was sent from Cufa to Medina, naming one hundred and forty thousand Muslims who supported him and were eager to fight as soon as he arrived at the Euphrates. Despite his wise friends' warnings, he decided to put himself and his family in the hands of treacherous people. He crossed the Arabian desert with a fearful group of women and children; however, as he neared Irak, he became uneasy seeing the desolate or hostile landscape and suspected his supporters might have abandoned him. His fears were valid: Obeidollah, the governor of Cufa, had stifled the initial sparks of rebellion, and Hosein found himself surrounded in the plains of Kerbela by five thousand horsemen who cut off his communication with the city and the river. He could have escaped to a fortress in the desert that had resisted the might of Caesar and Chosroes and could have relied on the loyalty of the Tai tribe, which could have armed ten thousand fighters to defend him. When he met with the enemy's leader, he proposed three honorable options: he could either return to Medina, be stationed at a frontier post against the Turks, or be safely taken to Yezid. But the caliph's orders—or those of his deputy—were harsh and uncompromising; Hosein was told he had to surrender as a prisoner and a criminal to the commander of the faithful or face the consequences of his rebellion. "Do you think," he replied, "that you can scare me with death?" And during the brief respite of one night, he prepared, with calm and solemn acceptance, to meet his fate. He quieted his sister Fatima, who mourned the impending downfall of their family. "Our only trust," Hosein said, "is in God. Everything, in heaven and earth, must die and return to its Creator. My brother, my father, my mother were better than I, and every Muslim has an example in the prophet." He urged his friends to save themselves by fleeing, but they all refused to abandon or outlive their beloved leader. Their courage was strengthened by heartfelt prayer and the promise of paradise. On the morning of that fatal day, he rode out with a sword in one hand and the Quran in the other. His noble band of martyrs consisted of just thirty-two horsemen and forty foot soldiers; but they secured their flanks and rear with tent ropes and a deep trench filled with burning brush, following Arab customs. The enemy advanced reluctantly, and one of their leaders defected with thirty followers, choosing the certainty of death alongside Hosein. In every close fight or one-on-one battle, the despair of Hosein's men was unyielding; but the surrounding crowds pounded them from afar with a storm of arrows, and horses and men were gradually slain. A temporary ceasefire was allowed on both sides for prayer, and the battle eventually ended with the death of Hosein’s last companions. Alone, weary, and wounded, he sat down at his tent's entrance. As he tasted a drop of water, a dart pierced his mouth; and his son and nephew, two handsome young men, were killed in his embrace. He raised his blood-soaked hands to heaven and offered a funeral prayer for the living and the dead. In a fit of despair, his sister emerged from the tent and pleaded with the Cufian general not to let Hosein be killed in front of her; a tear rolled down his venerable beard, and even the boldest of his soldiers fell back in fear as the dying hero threw himself among them. The merciless Shamer, a name abhorred by the faithful, mocked their cowardice; and the grandson of Muhammad was killed with thirty-three strikes from lances and swords. After trampling his body, they took his head to the castle of Cufa, where the cruel Obeidollah hit him on the mouth with a stick: "Alas," cried an old Muslim, "on these lips, I have seen the lips of the apostle of God!" In a future age and place, the tragic scene of Hosein's death will elicit the empathy of even the coldest reader. On the annual observance of his martyrdom, during the faithful pilgrimage to his grave, his Persian devotees abandon themselves to intense emotions of sorrow and anger.

When the sisters and children of Ali were brought in chains to the throne of Damascus, the caliph was advised to extirpate the enmity of a popular and hostile race, whom he had injured beyond the hope of reconciliation. But Yezid preferred the councils of mercy; and the mourning family was honorably dismissed to mingle their tears with their kindred at Medina. The glory of martyrdom superseded the right of primogeniture; and the twelve imams, or pontiffs, of the Persian creed, are Ali, Hassan, Hosein, and the lineal descendants of Hosein to the ninth generation. Without arms, or treasures, or subjects, they successively enjoyed the veneration of the people, and provoked the jealousy of the reigning caliphs: their tombs, at Mecca or Medina, on the banks of the Euphrates, or in the province of Chorasan, are still visited by the devotion of their sect. Their names were often the pretence of sedition and civil war; but these royal saints despised the pomp of the world: submitted to the will of God and the injustice of man; and devoted their innocent lives to the study and practice of religion. The twelfth and last of the Imams, conspicuous by the title of Mahadi, or the Guide, surpassed the solitude and sanctity of his predecessors. He concealed himself in a cavern near Bagdad: the time and place of his death are unknown; and his votaries pretend that he still lives, and will appear before the day of judgment to overthrow the tyranny of Dejal, or the Antichrist. In the lapse of two or three centuries, the posterity of Abbas, the uncle of Mahomet, had multiplied to the number of thirty-three thousand: the race of Ali might be equally prolific: the meanest individual was above the first and greatest of princes; and the most eminent were supposed to excel the perfection of angels. But their adverse fortune, and the wide extent of the Mussulman empire, allowed an ample scope for every bold and artful imposture, who claimed affinity with the holy seed: the sceptre of the Almohades, in Spain and Africa; of the Fatimites, in Egypt and Syria; of the Sultans of Yemen; and of the Sophis of Persia; has been consecrated by this vague and ambiguous title. Under their reigns it might be dangerous to dispute the legitimacy of their birth; and one of the Fatimite caliphs silenced an indiscreet question by drawing his cimeter: "This," said Moez, "is my pedigree; and these," casting a handful of gold to his soldiers,—"and these are my kindred and my children." In the various conditions of princes, or doctors, or nobles, or merchants, or beggars, a swarm of the genuine or fictitious descendants of Mahomet and Ali is honored with the appellation of sheiks, or sherifs, or emirs. In the Ottoman empire they are distinguished by a green turban; receive a stipend from the treasury; are judged only by their chief; and, however debased by fortune or character, still assert the proud preëminence of their birth. A family of three hundred persons, the pure and orthodox branch of the caliph Hassan, is preserved without taint or suspicion in the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, and still retains, after the revolutions of twelve centuries, the custody of the temple, and the sovereignty of their native land. The fame and merit of Mahomet would ennoble a plebeian race, and the ancient blood of the Koreish transcends the recent majesty of the kings of the earth.

When Ali's sisters and children were brought in chains to the throne of Damascus, the caliph was advised to eliminate the hostility of a popular race that he had harmed beyond the hope of reconciliation. But Yezid chose mercy; and the grieving family was honorably released to share their tears with their relatives in Medina. The glory of martyrdom overshadowed the right of primogeniture; the twelve imams, or pontiffs, of the Persian belief are Ali, Hassan, Hosein, and Hosein's direct descendants for nine generations. Without weapons, treasures, or followers, they successively earned the people's respect and provoked the jealousy of the ruling caliphs: their tombs, located in Mecca or Medina, along the Euphrates, or in the province of Chorasan, continue to be visited by their sect's devotion. Their names often served as a pretext for rebellion and civil war; however, these royal saints ignored worldly pomp, accepted God's will and unfair treatment from men, and devoted their innocent lives to religious study and practice. The twelfth and last Imam, known as Mahadi, or the Guide, exceeded the solitude and sanctity of his predecessors. He hid in a cave near Baghdad; the time and place of his death are unknown, and his followers claim that he is still alive and will return before the Day of Judgment to defeat the tyranny of Dejal, or the Antichrist. Over two or three centuries, Abbas's descendants, who was Muhammad's uncle, grew in number to thirty-three thousand: Ali's lineage could have been just as prolific; the lowliest individual was considered above the first and greatest of princes; and the most distinguished were thought to surpass even the perfection of angels. However, their misfortune and the vastness of the Muslim empire allowed plenty of room for every bold and crafty impostor claiming connection to the holy bloodline: the rule of the Almohades in Spain and Africa; the Fatimites in Egypt and Syria; the Sultans of Yemen; and the Sophis of Persia have all been legitimized by this vague and ambiguous title. Under their reigns, questioning their legitimacy could be dangerous; one of the Fatimite caliphs silenced a daring inquiry by drawing his sword: "This," said Moez, "is my lineage; and these," tossing a handful of gold to his soldiers, "are my relatives and my children." Among the different classes of princes, doctors, nobles, merchants, or beggars, a multitude of genuine or fictitious descendants of Muhammad and Ali are honored with the titles of sheiks, sherifs, or emirs. In the Ottoman Empire, they wear a green turban, receive a stipend from the treasury, are judged only by their leader, and, no matter their fall from grace or status, still maintain the proud superiority of their lineage. A family of three hundred individuals, the pure and orthodox branch of caliph Hassan, is preserved without any blemish or suspicion in the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, and still, after twelve centuries of upheaval, retains guardianship of the temple and sovereignty over their homeland. The fame and worth of Muhammad would elevate an ordinary lineage, and the ancient blood of the Koreish surpasses the recent majesty of the kings of the earth.

The talents of Mahomet 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 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. Mahomet 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 splendor and size, represents the humble tabernacle erected at Medina by the hands of Mahomet. The Mahometans 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 Mahomet 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 honors 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 Sonnites; 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 Mahometans, 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 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 Cadhi 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.

The talents of Muhammad deserve our praise; however, his success may have drawn too much of our admiration. Are we surprised that a large number of followers would adopt the beliefs and fervor of a charismatic zealot? Throughout the history of the church, from the time of the apostles to the reformers, similar temptations have been attempted and repeated. Is it so hard to believe that an ordinary person could take up arms and a throne, conquer his homeland, and establish a monarchy through his victories? In the dynamic history of Eastern dynasties, countless fortunate usurpers have emerged from humble beginnings, overcome greater challenges, and claimed larger territories and conquests. Muhammad was equally called to preach and to fight; the combination of these contrasting traits not only increased his worth but also aided his success: the interplay of force and persuasion, enthusiasm and fear, continually influenced each other until every obstacle fell to their overwhelming power. His message urged the Arabs towards freedom and triumph, to arms and plunder, to the fulfillment of their greatest desires in this life and the next: the restrictions he imposed were necessary to establish the prophet's credibility and to ensure the public's obedience; the only critique of his success was his rational belief in the unity and perfection of God. It is not the spread but the longevity of his religion that we should find remarkable: the same pure and perfect message he established in Mecca and Medina has endured, even after twelve centuries of change, among the Indian, African, and Turkish followers of the Quran. If Christian apostles like St. Peter or St. Paul could return to the Vatican, they might wonder about the name of the God worshipped with such mysterious rituals in that magnificent temple: at Oxford or Geneva, they would be less surprised; but they might still need to read the church's catechism and study the orthodox interpretations of their own writings and the words of their Master. However, the Turkish dome of Hagia Sophia, with its added grandeur, reflects the simple tent built at Medina by Muhammad's hands. Muslims have consistently resisted the temptation to reduce what they believe and worship to something that can be sensed or imagined by man. "I believe in one God and Muhammad is His messenger" is the straightforward and unchanging declaration of Islam. The intellectual concept of God has never been diminished by any physical idol; the respect for the prophet has never exceeded the bounds of human virtue; and his living teachings have kept his followers' gratitude within the limits of reason and faith. The followers of Ali have indeed honored the memory of their hero, his wife, and his children; and some Persian scholars claim that the divine essence was embodied in the Imams; but their superstition is widely rejected by the Sunni majority, and their impiety has served as a timely warning against the worship of saints and martyrs. The philosophical debates about God's attributes and human freedom have been discussed in Muslim schools just as they have in Christian ones; however, among Muslims, these discussions have never stirred public passions or disrupted state stability. The key difference lies in the separation or combination of political and religious authority. The interests of the caliphs, the successors of the prophet and leaders of the faithful, have been to suppress and discourage all religious changes: the order, discipline, and ambitions of clergy are unknown to Muslims; and the legal scholars guide their conscience and represent their beliefs. From the Atlantic to the Ganges, the Quran is recognized as the fundamental code, not just of theology, but of civil and criminal law; and the regulations that govern human actions and property are upheld by the infallible and unchanging authority of God's will. This religious obligation comes with some practical drawbacks; uninformed legislators have often been misled by their own biases and those of their culture; and the customs from the Arabian desert may not suit the riches and populations of Ispahan and Constantinople. In such cases, the judge respectfully places the holy book on his head and offers a clever interpretation more fitting to the principles of justice and the customs and politics of the time.

His beneficial or pernicious influence on the public happiness is the last consideration in the character of Mahomet. 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 revolutions, 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. Mahomet 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 widows and orphans. The hostile tribes were united in faith and obedience, and the valor 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 Bedoweens of the desert, awakening from their dream of dominion, resumed their old and solitary independence.

His positive or negative impact on public happiness is the final aspect to consider in the character of Muhammad. Even the most bitter or bigoted of his Christian or Jewish opponents would likely agree that he took on a false role to promote a beneficial teaching, which was only slightly less perfect than their own. He sincerely believed, as the foundation of his religion, in the truth and sanctity of their earlier revelations, along with the virtues and miracles of their founders. The idols of Arabia were shattered before the throne of God; the blood of human sacrifices was atoned for through prayer, fasting, and charity—the commendable or innocent acts of devotion. His rewards and punishments for an afterlife were depicted in ways that resonated with an uneducated and sensual generation. Muhammad may not have been capable of creating a moral and political system for his people, but he instilled among the faithful a spirit of kindness and camaraderie; he encouraged the practice of social virtues; and through his laws and teachings, he curbed the desire for revenge and the oppression of widows and orphans. The warring tribes united in faith and loyalty, and the bravery that had once been wasted on internal disputes was now fiercely focused against outside foes. Had the drive been less intense, Arabia, stable internally and powerful externally, might have thrived under a series of its own kings. Its sovereignty was lost due to the scale and speed of conquest. The nation’s colonies spread across the East and West, blending their blood with that of their converts and captives. After the reign of three caliphs, the seat of power moved from Medina to the valley of Damascus and the Tigris River; the holy cities were besieged by irreverent warfare; Arabia was governed by a subject, possibly a foreigner; and the Bedouins of the desert, waking up from their dreams of domination, returned to their old and solitary freedom.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part I.

     The Conquest Of Persia, Syria, Egypt, Africa, And Spain, By
     The Arabs Or Saracens.—Empire Of The Caliphs, Or Successors
     Of Mahomet.—State Of The Christians, &c., Under Their
     Government.
     The Conquest of Persia, Syria, Egypt, Africa, and Spain by the Arabs or Saracens.—Empire of the Caliphs, or Successors of Muhammad.—Status of the Christians, &c., Under Their Government.

The revolution of Arabia had not changed the character of the Arabs: the death of Mahomet was the signal of independence; and the hasty structure of his power and religion tottered to its foundations. A small and faithful band of his primitive disciples had listened to his eloquence, and shared his distress; had fled with the apostle from the persecution of Mecca, or had received the fugitive in the walls of Medina. The increasing myriads, who acknowledged Mahomet as their king and prophet, had been compelled by his arms, or allured by his prosperity. The polytheists were confounded by the simple idea of a solitary and invisible God; the pride of the Christians and Jews disdained the yoke of a mortal and contemporary legislator. The habits of faith and obedience were not sufficiently confirmed; and many of the new converts regretted the venerable antiquity of the law of Moses, or the rites and mysteries of the Catholic church; or the idols, the sacrifices, the joyous festivals, of their Pagan ancestors. The jarring interests and hereditary feuds of the Arabian tribes had not yet coalesced in a system of union and subordination; and the Barbarians were impatient of the mildest and most salutary laws that curbed their passions, or violated their customs. They submitted with reluctance to the religious precepts of the Koran, the abstinence from wine, the fast of the Ramadan, and the daily repetition of five prayers; and the alms and tithes, which were collected for the treasury of Medina, could be distinguished only by a name from the payment of a perpetual and ignominious tribute. The example of Mahomet had excited a spirit of fanaticism or imposture, and several of his rivals presumed to imitate the conduct, and defy the authority, of the living prophet. At the head of the fugitives and auxiliaries, the first caliph was reduced to the cities of Mecca, Medina, and Tayef; and perhaps the Koreish would have restored the idols of the Caaba, if their levity had not been checked by a seasonable reproof. "Ye men of Mecca, will ye be the last to embrace, and the first to abandon, the religion of Islam?" After exhorting the Moslems to confide in the aid of God and his apostle, Abubeker resolved, by a vigorous attack, to prevent the junction of the rebels. The women and children were safely lodged in the cavities of the mountains: the warriors, marching under eleven banners, diffused the terror of their arms; and the appearance of a military force revived and confirmed the loyalty of the faithful. The inconstant tribes accepted, with humble repentance, the duties of prayer, and fasting, and alms; and, after some examples of success and severity, the most daring apostates fell prostrate before the sword of the Lord and of Caled. In the fertile province of Yemanah, between the Red Sea and the Gulf of Persia, in a city not inferior to Medina itself, a powerful chief (his name was Moseilama) had assumed the character of a prophet, and the tribe of Hanifa listened to his voice. A female prophetess was attracted by his reputation; the decencies of words and actions were spurned by these favorites of Heaven; and they employed several days in mystic and amorous converse. An obscure sentence of his Koran, or book, is yet extant; and in the pride of his mission, Moseilama condescended to offer a partition of the earth. The proposal was answered by Mahomet with contempt; but the rapid progress of the impostor awakened the fears of his successor: forty thousand Moslems were assembled under the standard of Caled; and the existence of their faith was resigned to the event of a decisive battle. In the first action they were repulsed by the loss of twelve hundred men; but the skill and perseverance of their general prevailed; their defeat was avenged by the slaughter of ten thousand infidels; and Moseilama himself was pierced by an Æthiopian slave with the same javelin which had mortally wounded the uncle of Mahomet. The various rebels of Arabia without a chief or a cause, were speedily suppressed by the power and discipline of the rising monarchy; and the whole nation again professed, and more steadfastly held, the religion of the Koran. The ambition of the caliphs provided an immediate exercise for the restless spirit of the Saracens: their valor was united in the prosecution of a holy war; and their enthusiasm was equally confirmed by opposition and victory.

The revolution in Arabia didn’t change the nature of the Arabs: the death of Muhammad was the signal for independence; and the shaky foundations of his power and religion began to crumble. A small and loyal group of his earliest followers had listened to his teachings and shared his struggles; they had fled with him from the persecution in Mecca or welcomed him into the walls of Medina. The growing masses, who recognized Muhammad as their king and prophet, had either been forced by his military might or attracted by his success. The polytheists were confused by the simple idea of one invisible God; the pride of Christians and Jews rejected the authority of a mortal lawgiver. Their habits of faith and obedience were not yet firmly established; many of the new converts longed for the ancient traditions of Moses’ law, the rituals of the Catholic Church, or the idols, sacrifices, and festive celebrations of their pagan ancestors. The conflicting interests and longstanding feuds among the Arabian tribes hadn’t yet united into a system of order and hierarchy; and the tribes were resistant to even the mildest laws that restrained their passions or disrupted their customs. They reluctantly accepted the religious teachings of the Quran, like abstaining from wine, fasting during Ramadan, and the daily five prayers; and the alms and tithes collected for Medina's treasury were barely distinguishable from the continuous and shameful tribute they paid. Muhammad’s example stirred a wave of fanaticism or deceit, and several rivals dared to mimic his actions and challenge his authority. Leading the fugitives and auxiliaries, the first caliph was confined to the cities of Mecca, Medina, and Tayef; and perhaps the Koreish would have reinstated the idols of the Kaaba if their frivolousness hadn’t been curbed by a timely reprimand. "Men of Mecca, will you be the last to accept and the first to abandon the religion of Islam?" After encouraging the Muslims to trust in the help of God and His apostle, Abu Bakr decided that a strong offensive was necessary to stop the rebels from uniting. The women and children were securely hidden in the mountains; the warriors, marching under eleven banners, spread fear among their enemies, and the sight of a military force renewed and strengthened the loyalty of the faithful. The fluctuating tribes accepted, with humble remorse, the responsibilities of prayer, fasting, and charity; and after some instances of success and harshness, the boldest apostates fell to the ground before the sword of the Lord and of Khalid. In the fruitful region of Yemen, between the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, in a city comparable to Medina, a powerful leader named Moseilama claimed to be a prophet, and the Hanifa tribe listened to him. A female prophetess was drawn to his fame; they disregarded the usual decencies of conversation and behavior; and spent several days in mystical and romantic discussions. An obscure sentence from his Quran, or scripture, still exists; and in his pride, Moseilama offered to divide the earth. Muhammad dismissed the offer with disdain; however, the rapid growth of the impostor raised the concerns of his successor: forty thousand Muslims gathered under Khalid’s banner; and the survival of their faith depended on the outcome of a decisive battle. In their first engagement, they suffered the loss of twelve hundred men; but the skill and determination of their general led them to victory, avenging their defeat with the slaughter of ten thousand unbelievers, and Moseilama himself was killed by an Ethiopian slave with the same spear that had mortally wounded Muhammad's uncle. The various rebel factions in Arabia, lacking a chief or a cause, were quickly subdued by the power and discipline of the emerging monarchy; and the entire nation once again professed, and more firmly held, the religion of the Quran. The ambitions of the caliphs provided an immediate outlet for the restless spirit of the Saracens: their courage united in a holy war, and their enthusiasm grew from both resistance and triumph.

From the rapid conquests of the Saracens a presumption will naturally arise, that the 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 Abubeker, 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. The austere and frugal measure of their lives was the effect of virtue or habit, and the pride of their simplicity insulted the vain magnificence of the kings of the earth. When Abubeker assumed the office of caliph, he enjoined his daughter Ayesha to take a strict account of his private patrimony, that it might be evident whether he were enriched or impoverished by the service of the state. He thought himself entitled to a stipend of three pieces of gold, with the sufficient maintenance of a single camel and a black slave; but on the Friday of each week he distributed the residue of his own and the public money, first to the most worthy, and then to the most indigent, of the Moslems. The remains of his wealth, a coarse garment, and five pieces of gold, were delivered to his successor, who lamented with a modest sigh his own inability to equal such an admirable model. Yet the abstinence and humility of Omar were not inferior to the virtues of Abubeker: his food consisted of barley bread or dates; his drink was water; he preached in a gown that was torn or tattered in twelve places; and the Persian satrap, who paid his homage to the conqueror, found him asleep among the beggars on the steps of the mosch of Medina. Economy is the source of liberality, and the increase of the revenue enabled Omar to establish a just and perpetual reward for the past and present services of the faithful. Careless of his own emolument, he assigned to Abbas, the uncle of the prophet, the first and most ample allowance of twenty-five thousand drachms or pieces of silver. Five thousand were allotted to each of the aged warriors, the relics of the field of Beder; and the last and meanest of the companions of Mahomet was distinguished by the annual reward of three thousand pieces. One thousand was the stipend of the veterans who had fought in the first battles against the Greeks and Persians; and the decreasing pay, as low as fifty pieces of silver, was adapted to the respective merit and seniority of the soldiers of Omar. Under his reign, and that of his predecessor, the conquerors of the East were the trusty servants of God and the people; the mass of the public treasure was consecrated to the expenses of peace and war; a prudent mixture of justice and bounty maintained the discipline of the Saracens, and they united, by a rare felicity, the despatch and execution of despotism with the equal and frugal maxims of a republican government. The heroic courage of Ali, the consummate prudence of Moawiyah, excited the emulation of their subjects; and the talents which had been exercised in the school of civil discord were more usefully applied to propagate the faith and dominion of the prophet. In the sloth and vanity of the palace of Damascus, the succeeding princes of the house of Ommiyah were alike destitute of the qualifications of statesmen 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 Mahomet 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.

From the quick conquests of the Saracens, one might naturally assume that the caliphs led their armies personally and sought martyrdom right at the front lines of battle. The bravery of Abubeker, Omar, and Othman had indeed been tested in the hardships and wars of the prophet; their personal assurance of paradise likely taught them to overlook the pleasures and dangers of the present world. However, they took the throne at an older age and considered the responsibilities of religion and justice at home to be the most important duties of a leader. Aside from Omar's presence during the siege of Jerusalem, their longest journeys were the regular pilgrimages from Medina to Mecca, and they received news of victory while they prayed or preached at the prophet's tomb. The simple and austere way they lived was a result of virtue or habit, and their pride in their simplicity stood in stark contrast to the excessive luxury of earthly kings. When Abubeker became caliph, he instructed his daughter Ayesha to keep a close account of his personal wealth, so it would be clear whether he gained or lost from his public service. He believed he deserved a salary of three gold pieces along with enough for one camel and a black slave, but every Friday, he distributed the remainder of his own and the public funds—first to the most deserving, and then to the neediest among the Muslims. When he passed on his remaining wealth—a rough garment and five gold pieces—to his successor, that successor sighed modestly, expressing regret at being unable to match such an admirable example. Yet, Omar’s self-restraint and humility were no less than Abubeker’s virtues: he ate barley bread or dates, drank water, preached in a gown that was torn in twelve places, and the Persian governor who came to pay respect found him sleeping among beggars on the steps of the mosque in Medina. Frugality is the foundation of generosity, and increased revenue allowed Omar to create a fair and lasting reward for the past and current services of the faithful. Without concern for his own benefit, he allocated the first and largest allowance of twenty-five thousand drachms (or silver pieces) to Abbas, the prophet's uncle. Each of the elderly warriors, the remnants of the Battle of Beder, received five thousand. Even the least of Mahomet’s companions received an annual reward of three thousand pieces. Thousand was the pay for veterans who fought in the initial battles against the Greeks and Persians, and the diminishing payments could go as low as fifty pieces of silver, reflecting the soldiers' merit and seniority under Omar. During his reign and that of his predecessor, the conquerors of the East served both God and the people faithfully; the bulk of public treasure was devoted to the costs of peace and war; a wise blend of justice and generosity upheld the discipline of the Saracens, and they uniquely combined the quick decisions of despotism with the fairness and simplicity of a republic. The heroic bravery of Ali and the wise strategies of Moawiyah inspired their subjects, and the skills honed in the chaos of civil strife were more effectively used to spread the faith and influence of the prophet. In the laziness and vanity of the palace in Damascus, the following princes of the house of Ommiyah lacked both statesmanship and saintliness. Yet, treasures from unknown lands were continually brought to their throne, and the steady rise of Arabian power should be attributed more to the spirit of the people than to the talents of their leaders. We must also recognize the vulnerability of their enemies. Mahomet was born during a particularly weak and chaotic time for the Persians, Romans, and European Barbarians; empires like those of Trajan, Constantine, or Charlemagne could have easily pushed back the assaults of the unarmored Saracens, and the wave of fanaticism might have faded into the sands of Arabia.

In the victorious days of the Roman republic, it had been the aim of the senate to confine their councils 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 vigor 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. In the ten years of the administration of Omar, the Saracens reduced to his obedience thirty-six thousand cities or castles, destroyed four thousand churches or temples of the unbelievers, and edified fourteen hundred moschs for the exercise of the religion of Mahomet. One hundred years after his 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, I. Persia; II. Syria; III. Egypt; IV. Africa; and, V. Spain. Under this general division, I shall 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. Yet I must excuse my own defects by a just complaint of the blindness and insufficiency of my guides. The Greeks, so loquacious in controversy, have not been anxious to celebrate the triumphs of their enemies. After a century of ignorance, the first annals of the Mussulmans were collected in a great measure from the voice of tradition. Among the numerous productions of Arabic and Persian literature, our interpreters have selected the imperfect sketches of a more recent age. The art and genius of history have ever been unknown to the Asiatics; they are ignorant of the laws of criticism; and our monkish chronicle of the same period may be compared to their most popular works, which are never vivified by the spirit of philosophy and freedom. The Oriental library of a Frenchman would instruct the most learned mufti of the East; and perhaps the Arabs might not find in a single historian so clear and comprehensive a narrative of their own exploits as that which will be deduced in the ensuing sheets.

In the triumphant days of the Roman Republic, the senate aimed to limit their councils and legions to one war at a time, completely defeating their first enemy before facing a second. These cautious strategies were looked down upon by the boldness and zeal of the Arabian caliphs. With equal energy and success, they attacked both the successors of Augustus and those of Artaxerxes; and both rival kingdoms simultaneously fell to an enemy they had long disdained. During Omar's ten-year leadership, the Saracens brought thirty-six thousand cities or castles under his control, destroyed four thousand churches or temples of nonbelievers, and built fourteen hundred mosques for the practice of the Islamic faith. One hundred years after his departure from Mecca, the armies and reign of his successors stretched from India to the Atlantic Ocean, covering various and distant provinces that can be categorized as I. Persia; II. Syria; III. Egypt; IV. Africa; and V. Spain. Under this broad classification, I will begin to detail these significant events, briefly addressing the distant and less engaging conquests of the East, while dedicating a more thorough account to the regions that were part of the Roman Empire. However, I must justify my shortcomings by expressing a valid complaint about the limitations and inadequacies of my sources. The Greeks, so vocal in disputes, have shown little interest in celebrating the victories of their adversaries. After a century of ignorance, the earliest records of the Muslims were largely gathered from oral tradition. Among the various works in Arabic and Persian literature, our translators have chosen incomplete accounts from a more recent period. The art and skill of history have always been foreign to the Asians; they lack an understanding of critical analysis; and our monastic chronicles from the same era can be compared to their most popular works, which are never animated by the spirit of philosophy and freedom. A Frenchman's Oriental library would enlighten the most knowledgeable mufti of the East; and perhaps the Arabs would struggle to find a single historian with a clear and comprehensive account of their own achievements that matches what will be presented in the following pages.

I. In the first year of the first caliph, his lieutenant Caled, 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 Caled; his son was sent a captive to Medina; his nobles bowed before the successor of the prophet; the people was 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: "In the same year," says Elmacin, "Caled fought many signal battles: an immense multitude of the infidels was slaughtered; and spoils infinite and innumerable were acquired by the victorious Moslems." But the invincible Caled was soon transferred to the Syrian war: the invasion of the Persian frontier was conducted by less active or less prudent commanders: the Saracens were repulsed with loss in the passage of the Euphrates; and, though they chastised the insolent pursuit of the Magians, their remaining forces still hovered in the desert of Babylon.

I. In the first year of the first caliph, his lieutenant Caled, known as the Sword of God and a formidable opponent of the non-believers, made his way to the banks of the Euphrates and took control of the cities of Anbar and Hira. To the west of the ruins of Babylon, a tribe of settled Arabs had established themselves at the edge of the desert; Hira was the capital of a lineage of kings who had adopted Christianity and had ruled for over six hundred years, under the influence of the Persian throne. The last of the Mondars was defeated and killed by Caled; his son was taken captive to Medina; his nobles submitted to the successor of the prophet; and the people were inspired by the achievements of their fellow countrymen; the caliph accepted an annual tribute of seventy thousand pieces of gold as the first fruits of his foreign conquest. The conquerors, and even their historians, were amazed by the start of their future greatness: "In the same year," notes Elmacin, "Caled engaged in many significant battles: a vast number of non-believers were killed; and countless spoils were captured by the victorious Muslims." However, the unbeatable Caled was soon reassigned to the Syrian war: the invasion of the Persian frontier was handled by less active or less cautious leaders: the Saracens faced setbacks crossing the Euphrates; and, although they retaliated against the audacious pursuit of the Magians, their remaining forces continued to linger in the desert near Babylon.

The indignation and fears of the Persians suspended for a moment their intestine divisions. By the unanimous sentence of the priests and nobles, their queen Arzema 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, the grandson of Chosroes; and the same æra, 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 Rustam; and a remnant of thirty thousand regular troops was swelled in truth, or in opinion, to one hundred and twenty thousand subjects, or allies, of the great king. The Moslems, whose numbers were reënforced from twelve to thirty thousand, had pitched their camp in the plains of Cadesia: and their line, though it consisted of fewer men, could produce more soldiers, than the unwieldy host of the infidels. I shall here observe, what I must often repeat, that the charge of the Arabs was not, like that of the Greeks and Romans, the effort of a firm and compact infantry: their military force was chiefly formed of cavalry and archers; and the engagement, which was often interrupted and often renewed by single combats and flying skirmishes, might be protracted without any decisive event to the continuance of several days. The periods of the battle of Cadesia 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 succor. 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 clamors, 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 clangor of arms was reechoed to the tent of Rustam, 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 were 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 seven thousand five hundred men; and the battle of Cadesia 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. As the distance of fourscore miles from the Gulf, the Euphrates and Tigris unite in a broad and direct current, which is aptly styled the river of the Arabs. In the midway, between the junction and the mouth of these famous streams, the new settlement was planted on the western bank: the first colony was composed of eight hundred Moslems; but the influence of the situation soon reared a flourishing and populous capital. The air, though excessively hot, is pure and healthy: the meadows are filled with palm-trees and cattle; and one of the adjacent valleys has been celebrated among the four paradises or gardens of Asia. Under the first caliphs the jurisdiction of this Arabian colony extended over the southern provinces of Persia: the city has been sanctified by the tombs of the companions and martyrs; and the vessels of Europe still frequent the port of Bassora, as a convenient station and passage of the Indian trade.

The anger and fears of the Persians temporarily halted their internal conflicts. By the unanimous decision of the priests and nobles, their queen Arzema was removed from power—she was the sixth of the short-lived usurpers who had risen and fallen within three or four years following the death of Chosroes and the retreat of Heraclius. Her crown was placed on the head of Yezdegerd, the grandson of Chosroes, marking an era that also coincided with an astronomical period, which has recorded the fall of the Sassanian dynasty and the religion of Zoroaster. The youth and inexperience of the prince, who was only fifteen years old, led him to avoid a risky confrontation: the royal standard was entrusted to his general Rustam, and a remnant of thirty thousand regular troops, in truth or perception, swelled to one hundred and twenty thousand subjects or allies of the great king. The Muslims, whose numbers increased from twelve to thirty thousand, set up their camp in the plains of Cadesia; although their line consisted of fewer men, they could field more soldiers than the unwieldy mass of the infidels. I will point out here, as I must often repeat, that the charge of the Arabs was not like that of the Greeks and Romans, which relied on solid and compact infantry: their military strength was mostly cavalry and archers; and the battle, often interrupted by single combats and quick skirmishes, could extend over several days without a decisive outcome. The phases of the battle of Cadesia were marked by their unique names. The first, due to the timely arrival of six thousand of the Syrian brethren, was called the day of succor. The second, termed the day of concussion, reflected the disorder of one or perhaps both armies. The third, a nighttime chaos, earned the quirky title of the night of barking, based on the chaotic sounds that resembled the indistinct noises of fierce animals. The following morning decided Persia's fate, as a timely whirlwind blew a cloud of dust into the faces of the unbelievers. The sounds of battle echoed to Rustam's tent, where he, unlike the ancient hero he was named after, was lounging in a cool, peaceful spot among his camp's supplies and mules loaded with gold and silver. At the sound of danger, he jumped from his resting place; however, an intrepid Arab caught him by the foot, beheaded him, raised his head on a lance, and swiftly returned to the battlefield, spreading chaos and death among the Persian ranks. The Saracens reported a loss of seven thousand five hundred men, and the battle of Cadesia is rightly described as fierce and brutal. The royal standard was toppled and seized on the battlefield—a leather apron of a blacksmith, who once rose as Persia's deliverer; though this emblem of heroic poverty was obscured and nearly hidden by an abundance of precious gems. After this victory, the prosperous region of Irak, or Assyria, submitted to the caliph, and his conquests were firmly secured by the rapid foundation of Bassora, a place that always oversees Persian trade and navigation. Located eighty miles from the Gulf, the Euphrates and Tigris rivers converge into a broad and direct current, aptly called the river of the Arabs. Midway between where these famous rivers meet and their mouth, the new settlement was established on the western bank: the first colony included eight hundred Muslims; however, the advantageous location quickly developed into a thriving and populous city. The air, though extremely hot, is clear and healthy: the meadows are filled with palm trees and livestock; and one of the nearby valleys has been celebrated as one of the four paradises or gardens of Asia. Under the first caliphs, the authority of this Arabian colony expanded over the southern provinces of Persia: the city has been consecrated by the tombs of companions and martyrs; and European vessels still visit the port of Bassora as a convenient stopover for Indian trade.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part II.

After the defeat of Cadesia, a country intersected by rivers and canals might have opposed an insuperable barrier to the victorious cavalry; and the walls of Ctesiphon or Madayn, 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 of thousands of thousands of pieces of gold. Some minute though curious facts represent the contrast of riches and ignorance. From the remote islands of the Indian Ocean a large provision of camphire had been imported, which is employed with a mixture of wax to illuminate the palaces of the East. Strangers to the name and properties of that odoriferous gum, the Saracens, mistaking it for salt, mingled the camphire in their bread, and were astonished at the bitterness of the taste. One of the apartments of the palace was decorated with a carpet of silk, sixty cubits in length, and as many in breadth: a paradise or garden was depictured on the ground: the flowers, fruits, and shrubs, were imitated by the figures of the gold embroidery, and the colors of the precious stones; and the ample square was encircled by a variegated and verdant border. The Arabian general persuaded his soldiers to relinquish their claim, in the reasonable hope that the eyes of the caliph would be delighted with the splendid workmanship of nature and industry. Regardless of the merit of art, and the pomp of royalty, the rigid Omar divided the prize among his brethren of Medina: the picture was destroyed; but such was the intrinsic value of the materials, that the share of Ali alone was sold for twenty thousand drams. A mule that carried away the tiara and cuirass, the belt and bracelets of Chosroes, was overtaken by the pursuers; the gorgeous trophy was presented to the commander of the faithful; and the gravest of the companions condescended to smile when they beheld the white beard, the hairy arms, and uncouth figure of the veteran, who was invested with the spoils of the Great King. 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. The name of Cufa describes a habitation of reeds and earth; but the importance of the new capital was supported by the numbers, wealth, and spirit, of a colony of veterans; and their licentiousness was indulged by the wisest caliphs, who were apprehensive of provoking the revolt of a hundred thousand swords: "Ye men of Cufa," said Ali, who solicited their aid, "you have been always conspicuous by your valor. You conquered the Persian king, and scattered his forces, till you had taken possession of his inheritance." This mighty conquest was achieved by the battles of Jalula and Nehavend. After the loss of the former, 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, one hundred and fifty thousand 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. If it be true that the flying general of the Persians was stopped and overtaken in a crowd of mules and camels laden with honey, the incident, however slight and singular, will denote the luxurious impediments of an Oriental army.

After the defeat at Cadesia, a country filled with rivers and canals could have posed an unbeatable barrier to the victorious cavalry; and the walls of Ctesiphon or Madayn, which had withstood the battering rams of the Romans, would not have fallen to the arrows of the Saracens. However, the fleeing Persians were driven by the belief that the end of their religion and empire was near; the strongest fortifications were abandoned out of treachery or fear, and the king, along with part of his family and treasures, escaped to Holwan at the foot of the Median hills. Three months after the battle, Said, the lieutenant of Omar, crossed the Tigris without resistance; the capital was taken by storm; and the chaotic defense of the people made the Moslems' sabres even sharper, as they shouted with religious fervor, "This is the white palace of Chosroes; this is the promise of the apostle of God!" The naked raiders from the desert suddenly found themselves richer than they could have ever imagined. Each room revealed new treasures hidden with skill or displayed openly; the gold and silver, along with various wardrobes and exquisite furniture, were beyond (says Abulfeda) anyone's wildest dreams or calculations; another historian estimates the unimaginable and nearly infinite mass at three thousand times thousands of pieces of gold. Some curious yet minor details highlight the contrast between wealth and ignorance. From distant islands of the Indian Ocean, a large supply of camphor had been brought in, which is mixed with wax to light up Eastern palaces. Unfamiliar with the name and properties of that fragrant resin, the Saracens mistook it for salt, adding the camphor to their bread, and were shocked by its bitter taste. One room in the palace featured a silk carpet that was sixty cubits long and wide: a paradise or garden was depicted on the ground, with flowers, fruits, and shrubs represented through golden embroidery and colored precious stones; the ample area was bordered with a vibrant green trim. The Arabian general encouraged his soldiers to give up their claims, hoping that the caliph would be impressed by the exquisite craftsmanship of nature and man. Disregarding the value of art and royal splendor, the stern Omar divided the spoils among his companions from Medina: the artwork was destroyed; yet the sheer worth of the materials was such that Ali's share sold for twenty thousand drams alone. A mule carrying the crown and armor, the belt and bracelets of Chosroes, was caught by pursuers; the beautiful trophy was presented to the Commander of the Faithful; and even the most serious of the companions smiled upon seeing the old soldier displaying the spoils of the Great King, with his white beard, hairy arms, and awkward figure. The sack of Ctesiphon led to its abandonment and gradual decline. The Saracens disliked the location and environment of the city, and Omar was advised by his general to move the capital to the west side of the Euphrates. Throughout history, the rise and fall of the Assyrian cities have been swift and straightforward: the land lacks stone and timber, making the sturdiest buildings from sun-baked bricks bound together with the local bitumen. The name Cufa refers to a settlement made of reeds and earth; but the new capital's significance was bolstered by a large number of veterans and their wealth and spirit; their unruliness was tolerated by the wisest caliphs, who feared provoking the revolt of a hundred thousand warriors: "You men of Cufa," said Ali, seeking their support, "you have always stood out for your bravery. You defeated the Persian king and scattered his forces until you claimed his inheritance." This tremendous victory was secured through the battles of Jalula and Nehavend. After losing at Jalula, Yezdegerd fled from Holwan, hiding his shame and despair in the Farsistan mountains, where Cyrus had once descended with his worthy and valiant companions. The nation's courage persisted even when the monarch's didn't: among the hills south of Ecbatana or Hamadan, one hundred fifty thousand Persians made a last stand for their religion and homeland; and the decisive battle of Nehavend was known by the Arabs as the victory of victories. If it’s true that the retreating Persian general was halted and caught amidst a crowd of mules and camels loaded with honey, this seemingly trivial incident highlights the extravagant obstacles faced by an Eastern army.

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, Tauris, 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 Madayn 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 Chorasan 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 Mahomet was planted on the walls of Herat, Merou, and Balch; 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. After a noble defence, Harmozan, the prince or satrap of Ahwaz and Susa, was compelled to surrender his person and his state to the discretion of the caliph; and their interview exhibits a portrait of the Arabian manners. In the presence, and by the command, of Omar, the gay Barbarian was despoiled of his silken robes embroidered with gold, and of his tiara bedecked with rubies and emeralds: "Are you now sensible," said the conqueror to his naked captive—"are you now sensible of the judgment of God, and of the different rewards of infidelity and obedience?" "Alas!" replied Harmozan, "I feel them too deeply. In the days of our common ignorance, we fought with the weapons of the flesh, and my nation was superior. God was then neuter: since he has espoused your quarrel, you have subverted our kingdom and religion." Oppressed by this painful dialogue, the Persian complained of intolerable thirst, but discovered some apprehension lest he should be killed whilst he was drinking a cup of water. "Be of good courage," said the caliph; "your life is safe till you have drunk this water:" the crafty satrap accepted the assurance, and instantly dashed the vase against the ground. Omar would have avenged the deceit, but his companions represented the sanctity of an oath; and the speedy conversion of Harmozan entitled him not only to a free pardon, but even to a stipend of two thousand pieces of gold. 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 geography of Persia is described in a dark way by the Greeks and Romans; however, the most famous of its cities seem to be older than the Arab invasion. As they took control of Hamadan and Ispahan, along with Caswin, Tauris, and Rei, they slowly approached the shores of the Caspian Sea. The speakers in Mecca could praise the success and determination of the faithful, who had already lost sight of the northern bear and had almost surpassed the limits of the habitable world. Turning again to the West and the Roman Empire, they crossed the Tigris via the bridge at Mosul, and in the conquered provinces of Armenia and Mesopotamia, they joined their victorious Syrian allies. From the palace of Madayn, their Eastern advance was equally swift and extensive. They moved along the Tigris and the Gulf, passed through mountain passes into the valley of Estachar or Persepolis, and desecrated the final sanctuary of the Magian empire. The grandson of Chosroes narrowly escaped among the crumbling columns and broken statues; a grim symbol of Persia's past and present fortunes: he fled quickly across the desert of Kirman, sought help from the warlike Segestans, and looked for a humble refuge on the edges of Turkish and Chinese power. But a victorious army does not feel fatigue: the Arabs split their forces to chase a frightened enemy; and Caliph Othman promised the leadership of Chorasan to the first general who entered that vast and populous land, the kingdom of ancient Bactria. The condition was accepted; the prize was earned; the standard of Muhammad was raised on the walls of Herat, Merou, and Balch; and the successful leader didn’t stop or rest until his foaming cavalry had reached the waters of the Oxus. In the midst of public chaos, the independent governors of the cities and forts negotiated their own terms: the conditions were either granted or forced based on the victors' respect, wisdom, or mercy; and a simple declaration of faith distinguished a brother from a slave. After a brave defense, Harmozan, the prince or satrap of Ahwaz and Susa, was forced to surrender himself and his kingdom to the caliph's will; and their meeting showcases Arabian customs. In the presence and by the order of Omar, the flamboyant Barbarian was stripped of his silk robes embroidered with gold and his tiara adorned with rubies and emeralds: "Do you realize," said the conqueror to his naked captive—"do you now see the judgment of God and the different rewards of disbelief and obedience?" "Alas!" replied Harmozan, "I feel them too deeply. In our shared ignorance, we fought with physical weapons, and my people were superior. God was then neutral: since He has chosen your side, you have overturned our kingdom and faith." Burdened by this painful conversation, the Persian complained of unbearable thirst, but showed some fear that he would be killed while drinking a cup of water. "Be brave," said the caliph; "your life is safe until you drink this water:" the cunning satrap accepted the promise and immediately shattered the vase against the ground. Omar wanted to punish the deceit, but his companions cited the sanctity of an oath; and Harmozan's swift conversion entitled him not only to a complete pardon but even a stipend of two thousand gold pieces. The administration of Persia was organized based on a detailed survey of the people, livestock, and agricultural products; and this record, which demonstrates the vigilance of the caliphs, could have provided insight for philosophers throughout history.

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 Fargana, 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 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 neighbors 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 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 drams 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 Bucharia. 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 Sassanides 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.

The flight of Yezdegerd had taken him beyond the Oxus River, all the way to the Jaxartes, two rivers known both in ancient times and today, flowing down from the mountains of India towards the Caspian Sea. He was warmly welcomed by Tarkhan, the prince of Fargana, a lush province along the Jaxartes. The king of Samarcand, along with the Turkish tribes of Sogdiana and Scythia, were moved by the cries and promises of the fallen king; he humbly sent an embassy seeking the stronger and more substantial friendship of the emperor of China. The virtuous Taitsong, the first of the Tang dynasty, can rightly be compared to the Antonines of Rome: his people enjoyed the benefits of prosperity and peace, and his rule was recognized by forty-four tribes of the Tartarian Barbarians. His last garrisons in Cashgar and Khoten kept regular contact with their neighbors by the Jaxartes and Oxus; a recent colony of Persians had brought the astronomy of the Magi to China, and Taitsong may have been worried about the rapid rise and threatening proximity of the Arabs. The support and possibly the resources from China rekindled Yezdegerd's hopes and the enthusiasm of the fire worshippers; he returned with a Turkish army to reclaim his father's inheritance. The fortunate Muslims, without even drawing their swords, witnessed his downfall and death. The grandson of Chosroes was betrayed by his servant, mocked by the rebellious citizens of Merou, and overwhelmed, defeated, and chased by his Barbarian allies. He made it to the riverbank and offered his rings and bracelets for a quick passage in a miller's boat. Unaware or uncaring of his royal despair, the miller replied that the daily profit from his mill was four drams of silver and that he wouldn’t stop working unless that loss was covered. In that moment of hesitation and delay, the last of the Sassanian kings was caught and killed by the Turkish cavalry, in the nineteenth year of his unfortunate reign. His son Firuz, a humble servant of the Chinese emperor, became the captain of his guards; and the Magian worship was kept alive by a group of loyal exiles in the province of Bucharia. His grandson carried on the royal name; but after a faint and pointless venture, he returned to China and spent his final days in the Sigan palace. The male line of the Sassanides ended; however, the female captives, the daughters of Persia, were given to their conquerors for servitude or marriage, and the lineage of the caliphs and imams was elevated 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 Chorasan 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 Bochara. 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 Catibah, the camel driver, declares the origin and merit of his successful lieutenant. While one of his colleagues displayed the first Mahometan 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 Catibah 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 burnt or broken; the Mussulman chief pronounced a sermon in the new mosch of Carizme; after several battles, the Turkish hordes were driven back to the desert; and the emperors of China solicited the friendship of the victorious Arabs. To their industry, the prosperity of the province, the Sogdiana of the ancients, may in a great measure be ascribed; but the advantages of the soil and climate had been understood and cultivated since the reign of the Macedonian kings. Before the invasion of the Saracens, Carizme, Bochara, and Samarcand were rich and populous under the yoke of the shepherds of the north. These cities were surrounded with a double wall; and the exterior fortification, of a larger circumference, enclosed the fields and gardens of the adjacent district. 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 diffused from the manufacture of Samarcand over the western world.

After the fall of the Persian kingdom, the River Oxus separated the lands of the Saracens and the Turks. This narrow boundary was quickly crossed by the ambition of the Arabs; the governors of Chorasan pushed their raids further, and one of their victories was marked by the shoe of a Turkish queen, which she left behind in her hurried escape beyond the hills of Bochara. However, the complete conquest of Transoxiana and Spain was left for the remarkable but inactive reign of Walid; and the name of Catibah, the camel driver, highlights the origin and achievements of his successful deputy. While one of his colleagues raised the first Muslim banner by the Indus River, the vast areas between the Oxus, the Jaxartes, and the Caspian Sea were brought under the authority of the prophet and the caliph by Catibah's forces. A tax of two million gold coins was imposed on the non-believers; their idols were destroyed or burned; the Muslim leader gave a sermon in the new mosque of Carizme; after several battles, the Turkish forces were pushed back into the desert; and the emperors of China sought the friendship of the victorious Arabs. The development of the region, known as Sogdiana in ancient times, is largely attributed to their efforts; however, the benefits of the land and climate had been recognized and utilized since the time of the Macedonian kings. Before the Saracen invasion, Carizme, Bochara, and Samarcand were wealthy and populous under the control of the northern shepherds. These cities were surrounded by a double wall, with the outer fortifications enclosing the fields and gardens of the surrounding area. The mutual needs of India and Europe were met by the hard work of the Sogdian merchants; and the invaluable skill of turning linen into paper spread from the production in Samarcand throughout the western world.

II. No sooner had Abubeker restored the unity of faith and government, than he despatched a circular letter to the Arabian tribes. "In the name of the most merciful God, to the rest of the true believers. Health and happiness, and the mercy and blessing of God, be upon you. I praise the most high God, and I pray for his prophet Mahomet. This is to acquaint you, that I intend to send the true believers into Syria to take it out of the hands of the infidels. And I would have you know, that the fighting for religion is an act of obedience to God." His messengers returned with the tidings of pious and martial ardor which they had kindled in every province; and the camp of Medina was successively filled with the intrepid bands of the Saracens, who panted for action, complained of the heat of the season and the scarcity of provisions, and accused with impatient murmurs the delays of the caliph. As soon as their numbers were complete, Abubeker ascended the hill, reviewed the men, the horses, and the arms, and poured forth a fervent prayer for the success of their undertaking. In person, and on foot, he accompanied the first day's march; and when the blushing leaders attempted to dismount, the caliph removed their scruples by a declaration, that those who rode, and those who walked, in the service of religion, were equally meritorious. His instructions to the chiefs of the Syrian army were inspired by the warlike fanaticism which advances to seize, and affects to despise, the objects of earthly ambition. "Remember," said the successor of the prophet, "that you are always in the presence of God, on the verge of death, in the assurance of judgment, and the hope of paradise. Avoid injustice and oppression; consult with your brethren, and study to preserve the love and confidence of your troops. When you fight the battles of the Lord, acquit yourselves like men, without turning your backs; but let not your victory be stained with the blood of women or children. Destroy no palm-trees, nor burn any fields of corn. Cut down no fruit-trees, nor do any mischief to cattle, only such as you kill to eat. When you make any covenant or article, stand to it, and be as good as your word. As you go on, you will find some religious persons who live retired in monasteries, and propose to themselves to serve God that way: let them alone, and neither kill them nor destroy their monasteries: And you will find another sort of people, that belong to the synagogue of Satan, who have shaven crowns; be sure you cleave their skulls, and give them no quarter till they either turn Mahometans or pay tribute." All profane or frivolous conversation, all dangerous recollection of ancient quarrels, was severely prohibited among the Arabs: in the tumult of a camp, the exercises of religion were assiduously practised; and the intervals of action were employed in prayer, meditation, and the study of the Koran. The abuse, or even the use, of wine was chastised by fourscore strokes on the soles of the feet, and in the fervor of their primitive zeal, many secret sinners revealed their fault, and solicited their punishment. After some hesitation, the command of the Syrian army was delegated to Abu Obeidah, one of the fugitives of Mecca, and companions of Mahomet; whose zeal and devotion was assuaged, without being abated, by the singular mildness and benevolence of his temper. But in all the emergencies of war, the soldiers demanded the superior genius of Caled; and whoever might be the choice of the prince, the Sword of God was both in fact and fame the foremost leader of the Saracens. He obeyed without reluctance; he was consulted without jealousy; and such was the spirit of the man, or rather of the times, that Caled professed his readiness to serve under the banner of the faith, though it were in the hands of a child or an enemy. Glory, and riches, and dominion, were indeed promised to the victorious Mussulman; but he was carefully instructed, that if the goods of this life were his only incitement, they likewise would be his only reward.

II. As soon as Abubeker united faith and government, he sent a circular letter to the Arabian tribes. "In the name of the most merciful God, to the true believers. Wishing you health, happiness, and God's mercy and blessings. I praise the most high God and pray for his prophet Mahomet. I want to inform you that I plan to send the true believers into Syria to take it from the infidels. Remember, fighting for your faith is an act of obedience to God." His messengers returned with news of fervor and martial enthusiasm that they had sparked in every province, and the camp of Medina quickly filled with the fearless bands of the Saracens, who were eager for action, complained about the heat of the season and the lack of supplies, and impatiently grumbled about the caliph's delays. Once their numbers were sufficient, Abubeker went up the hill, reviewed the men, horses, and arms, and offered a heartfelt prayer for the success of their mission. He personally joined the first day's march on foot, and when the embarrassed leaders tried to dismount, the caliph eased their worries by stating that both those who rode and those who walked in the service of religion were equally deserving. His orders to the leaders of the Syrian army were driven by the warlike zeal that pushes to seize and pretends to disregard worldly ambitions. "Remember," said the successor of the prophet, "that you are always in God's presence, on the edge of death, certain of judgment, and hopeful for paradise. Avoid injustice and oppression; consult with your brothers, and strive to maintain the love and trust of your troops. When you fight the Lord's battles, act like men without fleeing; but don't let your victory be tainted with the blood of women or children. Don't destroy palm trees or burn any grain fields. Don't cut down fruit trees or harm any livestock, except for what you kill for food. Keep your promises and honor your agreements. As you move forward, you'll encounter some religious individuals who live in seclusion in monasteries, so leave them be and don't kill them or destroy their monasteries. You will also find another group of people, followers of the synagogue of Satan, with shaved heads; make sure to strike them down and show them no mercy until they either convert to Islam or pay tribute." All disrespectful or trivial conversations, and any dangerous remembrance of old conflicts, were strictly banned among the Arabs: amidst the chaos of the camp, religious practices were diligently observed; the moments between battles were dedicated to prayer, reflection, and studying the Koran. The misuse or even the regular use of wine was punished by eighty lashes on the soles of the feet, and in their fervent zeal, many secret sinners confessed their faults and sought their punishment. After some deliberation, the command of the Syrian army was given to Abu Obeidah, one of the exiles from Mecca and a companion of Mahomet; his zeal and devotion were tempered, but not diminished, by his exceptional kindness and goodwill. However, in times of war, the soldiers insisted on the leadership of Caled; and regardless of the prince's choice, the Sword of God was, both in reality and renown, the leading figure among the Saracens. He accepted without hesitation; he was consulted without jealousy; and such was the nature of the man, or rather the times, that Caled expressed his willingness to serve under the faith's banner, even if it were led by a child or an enemy. Glory, riches, and power were promised to the victorious Muslims; but they were carefully reminded that if the material possessions of this life were their only motivation, then they would also be their only reward.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part III.

One of the fifteen provinces of Syria, the cultivated lands to the eastward of the Jordan, had been decorated by Roman vanity with the name of Arabia; and the first arms of the Saracens were justified by the semblance of a national right. The country was enriched by the various benefits of trade; by the vigilance of the emperors it was covered with a line of forts; and the populous cities of Gerasa, Philadelphia, and Bosra, were secure, at least from a surprise, by the solid structure of their walls. The last of these cities was the eighteenth station from Medina: the road was familiar to the caravans of Hejaz and Irak, who annually visited this plenteous market of the province and the desert: the perpetual jealousy of the Arabs had trained the inhabitants to arms; and twelve thousand horse could sally from the gates of Bosra, an appellation which signifies, in the Syriac language, a strong tower of defence. Encouraged by their first success against the open towns and flying parties of the borders, a detachment of four thousand Moslems presumed to summon and attack the fortress of Bosra. They were oppressed by the numbers of the Syrians; they were saved by the presence of Caled, with fifteen hundred horse: he blamed the enterprise, restored the battle, and rescued his friend, the venerable Serjabil, who had vainly invoked the unity of God and the promises of the apostle. After a short repose, the Moslems performed their ablutions with sand instead of water; and the morning prayer was recited by Caled before they mounted on horseback. Confident in their strength, the people of Bosra threw open their gates, drew their forces into the plain, and swore to die in the defence of their religion. But a religion of peace was incapable of withstanding the fanatic cry of "Fight, fight! Paradise, paradise!" that reechoed in the ranks of the Saracens; and the uproar of the town, the ringing of bells, and the exclamations of the priests and monks increased the dismay and disorder of the Christians. With the loss of two hundred and thirty men, the Arabs remained masters of the field; and the ramparts of Bosra, in expectation of human or divine aid, were crowded with holy crosses and consecrated banners. The governor Romanus had recommended an early submission: despised by the people, and degraded from his office, he still retained the desire and opportunity of revenge. In a nocturnal interview, he informed the enemy of a subterraneous passage from his house under the wall of the city; the son of the caliph, with a hundred volunteers, were committed to the faith of this new ally, and their successful intrepidity gave an easy entrance to their companions. After Caled had imposed the terms of servitude and tribute, the apostate or convert avowed in the assembly of the people his meritorious treason: "I renounce your society," said Romanus, "both in this world and the world to come. And I deny him that was crucified, and whosoever worships him. And I choose God for my Lord, Islam for my faith, Mecca for my temple, the Moslems for my brethren, and Mahomet for my prophet; who was sent to lead us into the right way, and to exalt the true religion in spite of those who join partners with God."

One of the fifteen provinces of Syria, the farmlands east of the Jordan River, had been flaunted by Roman pride with the name Arabia; and the early strength of the Saracens was justified by a sense of national right. The region prospered from trade; due to the emperors' vigilance, it was fortified with a line of forts; and the bustling cities of Gerasa, Philadelphia, and Bosra were at least secure from surprise attacks due to the sturdy construction of their walls. Bosra was eighteen stops from Medina: it was a well-known path for the caravans from Hejaz and Irak, who visited this rich market in the province and the desert annually. The constant jealousy of the Arabs had prepared the locals for battle; and twelve thousand cavalry could emerge from the gates of Bosra, which means in the Syriac language, a strong tower of defense. Buoyed by their early victories against open towns and wandering border groups, a group of four thousand Muslims decided to challenge and attack the fortress of Bosra. They were overwhelmed by the large number of Syrians; their rescue came in the form of Caled, who arrived with fifteen hundred cavalry: he criticized the mission, turned the tide of battle, and saved his friend, the respected Serjabil, who had futilely called out for the unity of God and the promises of the apostle. After a brief rest, the Muslims performed their ablutions with sand instead of water; and Caled led the morning prayer before they mounted their horses. Confident in their strength, the people of Bosra opened their gates, rallied their forces in the open, and vowed to die defending their faith. But a religion of peace could not withstand the fervent shouts of "Fight, fight! Paradise, paradise!" echoing among the ranks of the Saracens; and the chaos of the town, the ringing of bells, and the cries of priests and monks only heightened the Christians' fear and disorder. With a loss of two hundred and thirty men, the Arabs remained in control of the battlefield; and the walls of Bosra, hoping for human or divine help, were filled with holy crosses and consecrated banners. The governor Romanus had suggested an early surrender: scorned by the people and stripped of his position, he still harbored a desire for revenge. In a secret meeting, he told the enemy about a hidden passage from his house beneath the city wall; the caliph's son, along with a hundred volunteers, trusted this new ally, and their courageous boldness opened the way for their fellow troops. After Caled set the terms of servitude and tribute, the traitor or convert confessed his treacherous act in front of the crowd: "I renounce your community," Romanus said, "both in this life and the next. And I deny him who was crucified, and anyone who worships him. I choose God as my Lord, Islam as my faith, Mecca as my temple, the Muslims as my brothers, and Muhammad as my prophet; who was sent to guide us onto the right path and to elevate the true religion against those who associate partners with God."

The conquest of Bosra, four days' journey from Damascus, encouraged the Arabs to besiege the ancient capital of Syria. At some distance from the walls, they encamped among the groves and fountains of that delicious territory, and the usual option of the Mahometan faith, of tribute or of war, was proposed to the resolute citizens, who had been lately strengthened by a reenforcement of five thousand Greeks. In the decline, as in the infancy, of the military art, a hostile defiance was frequently offered and accepted by the generals themselves: many a lance was shivered in the plain of Damascus, and the personal prowess of Caled was signalized in the first sally of the besieged. After an obstinate combat, he had overthrown and made prisoner one of the Christian leaders, a stout and worthy antagonist. He instantly mounted a fresh horse, the gift of the governor of Palmyra, and pushed forwards to the front of the battle. "Repose yourself for a moment," said his friend Derar, "and permit me to supply your place: you are fatigued with fighting with this dog." "O Dear!" replied the indefatigable Saracen, "we shall rest in the world to come. He that labors to-day shall rest to-morrow." With the same unabated ardor, Caled answered, encountered, and vanquished a second champion; and the heads of his two captives who refused to abandon their religion were indignantly hurled into the midst of the city. The event of some general and partial actions reduced the Damascenes to a closer defence: but a messenger, whom they dropped from the walls, returned with the promise of speedy and powerful succor, and their tumultuous joy conveyed the intelligence to the camp of the Arabs. After some debate, it was resolved by the generals to raise, or rather to suspend, the siege of Damascus, till they had given battle to the forces of the emperor. In the retreat, Caled would have chosen the more perilous station of the rear-guard; he modestly yielded to the wishes of Abu Obeidah. But in the hour of danger he flew to the rescue of his companion, who was rudely pressed by a sally of six thousand horse and ten thousand foot, and few among the Christians could relate at Damascus the circumstances of their defeat. The importance of the contest required the junction of the Saracens, who were dispersed on the frontiers of Syria and Palestine; and I shall transcribe one of the circular mandates which was addressed to Amrou, the future conqueror of Egypt. "In the name of the most merciful God: from Caled to Amrou, health and happiness. Know that thy brethren the Moslems design to march to Aiznadin, where there is an army of seventy thousand Greeks, who purpose to come against us, that they may extinguish the light of God with their mouths; but God preserveth his light in spite of the infidels. As soon therefore as this letter of mine shall be delivered to thy hands, come with those that are with thee to Aiznadin, where thou shalt find us if it please the most high God." The summons was cheerfully obeyed, and the forty-five thousand Moslems, who met on the same day, on the same spot ascribed to the blessing of Providence the effects of their activity and zeal.

The capture of Bosra, a four-day journey from Damascus, motivated the Arabs to surround the ancient capital of Syria. They set up camp among the groves and fountains of that beautiful area, and the usual choice of either tribute or war was offered to the determined citizens, who had recently received reinforcements of five thousand Greeks. In both the decline and the early stages of military skill, generals often offered and accepted direct challenges: many lances broke on the plain of Damascus, and Caled's exceptional skill was showcased in the first attack from the city. After a fierce battle, he overthrew and captured one of the Christian leaders, a strong and worthy opponent. He quickly mounted a fresh horse, a gift from the governor of Palmyra, and charged back into the fray. "Take a moment to rest," said his friend Derar, "and let me take your place: you’re exhausted from fighting that guy." "Oh dear!" replied the tireless Saracen, "we’ll rest in the next life. Whoever fights today will rest tomorrow." With the same unwavering enthusiasm, Caled replied, engaged, and defeated a second champion; the heads of his two captives who refused to abandon their faith were angrily thrown into the heart of the city. Various skirmishes forced the Damascenes to defend themselves more tightly, but a messenger they sent from the walls returned with news of quick and powerful help, which brought them chaotic joy and conveyed the news to the Arab camp. After some discussion, the generals decided to lift, or rather pause, the siege of Damascus until they could confront the emperor's forces. During the retreat, Caled wanted to take the more dangerous position of the rear guard but humbly yielded to Abu Obeidah's wishes. Yet when danger struck, he rushed to assist his companion, who was being physically overwhelmed by a sortie of six thousand cavalry and ten thousand infantry, and few among the Christians could recount the details of their defeat in Damascus. The importance of the battle required the Saracens, who were scattered along the borders of Syria and Palestine, to unite; and I will quote one of the circular orders sent to Amrou, the future conqueror of Egypt. "In the name of the most merciful God: from Caled to Amrou, greetings and well wishes. Know that your fellow Muslims plan to march to Aiznadin, where there is an army of seventy thousand Greeks preparing to confront us, to extinguish God's light with their mouths; but God preserves His light despite the infidels. So, as soon as this letter reaches you, come with those with you to Aiznadin, where you will find us if it pleases the Most High God." The call was eagerly answered, and the forty-five thousand Muslims, who gathered on the same day and in the same location, credited the impact of their effort and passion to the blessing of Providence.

About four years after the triumph of the Persian war, the repose of Heraclius and the empire was again disturbed by a new enemy, the power of whose religion was more strongly felt, than it was clearly understood, by the Christians of the East. In his palace of Constantinople or Antioch, he was awakened by the invasion of Syria, the loss of Bosra, and the danger of Damascus. An army of seventy thousand veterans, or new levies, was assembled at Hems or Emesa, under the command of his general Werdan: and these troops consisting chiefly of cavalry, might be indifferently styled either Syrians, or Greeks, or Romans: Syrians, from the place of their birth or warfare; Greeks from the religion and language of their sovereign; and Romans, from the proud appellation which was still profaned by the successors of Constantine. On the plain of Aiznadin, as Werdan rode on a white mule decorated with gold chains, and surrounded with ensigns and standards, he was surprised by the near approach of a fierce and naked warrior, who had undertaken to view the state of the enemy. The adventurous valor of Derar was inspired, and has perhaps been adorned, by the enthusiasm of his age and country. The hatred of the Christians, the love of spoil, and the contempt of danger, were the ruling passions of the audacious Saracen; and the prospect of instant death could never shake his religious confidence, or ruffle the calmness of his resolution, or even suspend the frank and martial pleasantry of his humor. In the most hopeless enterprises, he was bold, and prudent, and fortunate: after innumerable hazards, after being thrice a prisoner in the hands of the infidels, he still survived to relate the achievements, and to enjoy the rewards, of the Syrian conquest. On this occasion, his single lance maintained a flying fight against thirty Romans, who were detached by Werdan; and, after killing or unhorsing seventeen of their number, Derar returned in safety to his applauding brethren. When his rashness was mildly censured by the general, he excused himself with the simplicity of a soldier. "Nay," said Derar, "I did not begin first: but they came out to take me, and I was afraid that God should see me turn my back: and indeed I fought in good earnest, and without doubt God assisted me against them; and had I not been apprehensive of disobeying your orders, I should not have come away as I did; and I perceive already that they will fall into our hands." In the presence of both armies, a venerable Greek advanced from the ranks with a liberal offer of peace; and the departure of the Saracens would have been purchased by a gift to each soldier, of a turban, a robe, and a piece of gold; ten robes and a hundred pieces to their leader; one hundred robes and a thousand pieces to the caliph. A smile of indignation expressed the refusal of Caled. "Ye Christian dogs, you know your option; the Koran, the tribute, or the sword. We are a people whose delight is in war, rather than in peace: and we despise your pitiful alms, since we shall be speedily masters of your wealth, your families, and your persons." Notwithstanding this apparent disdain, he was deeply conscious of the public danger: those who had been in Persia, and had seen the armies of Chosroes confessed that they never beheld a more formidable array. From the superiority of the enemy, the artful Saracen derived a fresh incentive of courage: "You see before you," said he, "the united force of the Romans; you cannot hope to escape, but you may conquer Syria in a single day. The event depends on your discipline and patience. Reserve yourselves till the evening. It was in the evening that the Prophet was accustomed to vanquish." During two successive engagements, his temperate firmness sustained the darts of the enemy, and the murmurs of his troops. At length, when the spirits and quivers of the adverse line were almost exhausted, Caled gave the signal of onset and victory. The remains of the Imperial army fled to Antioch, or Cæsarea, or Damascus; and the death of four hundred and seventy Moslems was compensated by the opinion that they had sent to hell above fifty thousand of the infidels. The spoil was inestimable; many banners and crosses of gold and silver, precious stones, silver and gold chains, and innumerable suits of the richest armor and apparel. The general distribution was postponed till Damascus should be taken; but the seasonable supply of arms became the instrument of new victories. The glorious intelligence was transmitted to the throne of the caliph; and the Arabian tribes, the coldest or most hostile to the prophet's mission, were eager and importunate to share the harvest of Syria.

About four years after the victory in the Persian War, the peace of Heraclius and the empire was disturbed again by a new enemy, whose religious power was more deeply felt than fully understood by the Christians of the East. In his palace in Constantinople or Antioch, he was awakened by the invasion of Syria, the loss of Bosra, and the threat to Damascus. An army of seventy thousand veterans, or newly recruited soldiers, was gathered at Hems or Emesa, commanded by his general Werdan. These troops, mostly cavalry, could be called either Syrians, Greeks, or Romans: Syrians, because of their birthplace or battlefield; Greeks, from the religion and language of their ruler; and Romans, from the proud title that was still claimed by the successors of Constantine. On the plain of Aiznadin, as Werdan rode a white mule adorned with gold chains, surrounded by banners and standards, he was surprised by the sudden appearance of a fierce and naked warrior, who had come to assess the enemy's position. The boldness of Derar was fueled by the passion of his time and place. The hatred for Christians, the love of plunder, and the disregard for danger drove the daring Saracen; the thought of imminent death never shook his religious faith, disrupted his calm determination, or even halted the open and martial humor he displayed. In the most desperate situations, he was daring, sensible, and fortunate: after countless dangers, having been captured three times by the infidels, he still lived to tell of his exploits and enjoy the rewards of the Syrian conquest. On this occasion, his single spear engaged in a skirmish against thirty Romans sent by Werdan; after killing or unhorsing seventeen of them, Derar safely returned to his cheering comrades. When he was gently reprimanded by the general for his recklessness, he defended himself simply as a soldier. "No," said Derar, "I didn’t start it: they came out to get me, and I was afraid God would see me run away; so I fought for real, and God definitely helped me against them; and if I hadn't been worried about disobeying your orders, I wouldn't have come back like I did; and I can already tell they will fall into our hands." In front of both armies, an elderly Greek stepped forward with a generous offer of peace; the Saracens could leave in exchange for gifts to each soldier of a turban, a robe, and a piece of gold; ten robes and a hundred pieces for their leader; a hundred robes and a thousand pieces for the caliph. A look of anger showed Caled’s refusal. "You Christian dogs, you know your choices; the Koran, the tribute, or the sword. We are a people who prefer war to peace: we disdain your pitiful gifts, since we will soon control your wealth, your families, and your lives." Despite this apparent contempt, he was keenly aware of the public threat: those who had fought in Persia and seen the armies of Chosroes admitted they had never witnessed a more intimidating force. From the enemy's superiority, the crafty Saracen drew a fresh boost of courage: "You see before you," he said, "the combined might of the Romans; you cannot hope to escape, but you might conquer Syria in a single day. The outcome relies on your discipline and patience. Save your strength until evening. It was in the evening that the Prophet used to win." During two consecutive battles, his calm strength endured the enemy's onslaught and his troops' complaints. Finally, as the morale and arrows of the opposing side nearly ran out, Caled signaled the charge for victory. The remnants of the Imperial army fled to Antioch, or Cæsarea, or Damascus; and the loss of four hundred seventy Muslims was outweighed by the belief that they had sent over fifty thousand infidels to hell. The spoils were priceless; many banners and crosses made of gold and silver, precious stones, silver and gold chains, and countless suits of the finest armor and clothing. The general distribution was delayed until Damascus was captured; however, the timely supply of weapons became the gateway to new victories. The glorious news was sent to the caliph's throne; and the Arabian tribes, even those most indifferent or hostile to the prophet’s message, were eager and insistent to share in the spoils of Syria.

The sad tidings were carried to Damascus by the speed of grief and terror; and the inhabitants beheld from their walls the return of the heroes of Aiznadin. Amrou led the van at the head of nine thousand horse: the bands of the Saracens succeeded each other in formidable review; and the rear was closed by Caled in person, with the standard of the black eagle. To the activity of Derar he intrusted the commission of patrolling round the city with two thousand horse, of scouring the plain, and of intercepting all succor or intelligence. The rest of the Arabian chiefs were fixed in their respective stations before the seven gates of Damascus; and the siege was renewed with fresh vigor and confidence. The art, the labor, the military engines, of the Greeks and Romans are seldom to be found in the simple, though successful, operations of the Saracens: it was sufficient for them to invest a city with arms, rather than with trenches; to repel the allies of the besieged; to attempt a stratagem or an assault; or to expect the progress of famine and discontent. Damascus would have acquiesced in the trial of Aiznadin, as a final and peremptory sentence between the emperor and the caliph; her courage was rekindled by the example and authority of Thomas, a noble Greek, illustrious in a private condition by the alliance of Heraclius. The tumult and illumination of the night proclaimed the design of the morning sally; and the Christian hero, who affected to despise the enthusiasm of the Arabs, employed the resource of a similar superstition. At the principal gate, in the sight of both armies, a lofty crucifix was erected; the bishop, with his clergy, accompanied the march, and laid the volume of the New Testament before the image of Jesus; and the contending parties were scandalized or edified by a prayer that the Son of God would defend his servants and vindicate his truth. The battle raged with incessant fury; and the dexterity of Thomas, an incomparable archer, was fatal to the boldest Saracens, till their death was revenged by a female heroine. The wife of Aban, who had followed him to the holy war, embraced her expiring husband. "Happy," said she, "happy art thou, my dear: thou art gone to thy Lord, who first joined us together, and then parted us asunder. I will revenge thy death, and endeavor to the utmost of my power to come to the place where thou art, because I love thee. Henceforth shall no man ever touch me more, for I have dedicated myself to the service of God." Without a groan, without a tear, she washed the corpse of her husband, and buried him with the usual rites. Then grasping the manly weapons, which in her native land she was accustomed to wield, the intrepid widow of Aban sought the place where his murderer fought in the thickest of the battle. Her first arrow pierced the hand of his standard-bearer; her second wounded Thomas in the eye; and the fainting Christians no longer beheld their ensign or their leader. Yet the generous champion of Damascus refused to withdraw to his palace: his wound was dressed on the rampart; the fight was continued till the evening; and the Syrians rested on their arms. In the silence of the night, the signal was given by a stroke on the great bell; the gates were thrown open, and each gate discharged an impetuous column on the sleeping camp of the Saracens. Caled was the first in arms: at the head of four hundred horse he flew to the post of danger, and the tears trickled down his iron cheeks, as he uttered a fervent ejaculation; "O God, who never sleepest, look upon they servants, and do not deliver them into the hands of their enemies." The valor and victory of Thomas were arrested by the presence of the Sword of God; with the knowledge of the peril, the Moslems recovered their ranks, and charged the assailants in the flank and rear. After the loss of thousands, the Christian general retreated with a sigh of despair, and the pursuit of the Saracens was checked by the military engines of the rampart.

The sad news reached Damascus quickly, bringing grief and terror; the people watched from their walls as the heroes of Aiznadin returned. Amrou led the charge at the front of nine thousand horsemen: the Saracens followed in a formidable line, with Caled himself closing the rear, carrying the black eagle standard. He assigned Derar the task of patrolling around the city with two thousand horsemen, scouring the plain, and intercepting any aid or information. The other Arabian leaders took their positions at the seven gates of Damascus, and the siege intensified with renewed energy and confidence. The strategies and machinery of the Greeks and Romans were rarely seen in the straightforward yet effective tactics of the Saracens: they only needed to surround a city with arms instead of trenches, cut off the besieged's allies, attempt a trick or an assault, or wait for famine and discontent to take their toll. Damascus would have accepted the outcome of Aiznadin as a final decision between the emperor and the caliph; its bravery was inspired by Thomas, a noble Greek, who had earned respect through his connection to Heraclius. The noise and lights of the night hinted at a planned morning attack, and the Christian hero, who pretended to scorn the Arabs' zeal, used a similar tactic of superstition. At the main gate, where both armies could see, a tall crucifix was erected; the bishop and his clergy joined in the march, placing the New Testament before the image of Jesus. The opposing sides were shocked or inspired by a prayer asking the Son of God to protect His followers and uphold His truth. The battle raged with relentless intensity; Thomas's incredible skill as an archer dealt fatal blows to the bravest Saracens until they were avenged by a female warrior. Aban's wife, who had accompanied him to the holy war, embraced her dying husband. "Fortunate," she said, "fortunate you are, my love: you have gone to your Lord, who first united us and then separated us. I will avenge your death and will do all I can to reach you, because I love you. From now on, no man shall touch me again, for I have devoted myself to God's service." Without a groan or a tear, she washed her husband's body and buried him according to tradition. Then, gripping the weapons she was used to wielding back home, the brave widow of Aban sought out the place where his killer fought fiercely. Her first arrow struck the hand of his standard-bearer; her second hit Thomas in the eye; and the weakened Christians no longer saw their banner or their leader. Yet the noble champion of Damascus refused to retreat to his palace: his wound was treated on the rampart; the fight continued until evening, and the Syrians stood ready. In the stillness of the night, a signal was given with a strike on the great bell; the gates swung open, and each one unleashed a fierce wave against the sleeping camp of the Saracens. Caled was the first to respond: leading four hundred horsemen, he rushed to the danger zone, tears streaming down his ironcheeks as he fervently prayed, "O God, who neither sleeps nor slumbers, look upon Your servants, and do not deliver them into their enemies' hands." The bravery and success of Thomas were halted by the arrival of the Sword of God; aware of the danger, the Muslims regrouped and charged the attackers from the sides and the rear. After losing thousands, the Christian general withdrew with a sigh of despair, and the Saracen pursuit was halted by the rampart's defenses.

After a siege of seventy days, the patience, and perhaps the provisions, of the Damascenes were exhausted; and the bravest of their chiefs submitted to the hard dictates of necessity. In the occurrences of peace and war, they had been taught to dread the fierceness of Caled, and to revere the mild virtues of Abu Obeidah. At the hour of midnight, one hundred chosen deputies of the clergy and people were introduced to the tent of that venerable commander. He received and dismissed them with courtesy. They returned with a written agreement, on the faith of a companion of Mahomet, that all hostilities should cease; that the voluntary emigrants might depart in safety, with as much as they could carry away of their effects; and that the tributary subjects of the caliph should enjoy their lands and houses, with the use and possession of seven churches. On these terms, the most respectable hostages, and the gate nearest to his camp, were delivered into his hands: his soldiers imitated the moderation of their chief; and he enjoyed the submissive gratitude of a people whom he had rescued from destruction. But the success of the treaty had relaxed their vigilance, and in the same moment the opposite quarter of the city was betrayed and taken by assault. A party of a hundred Arabs had opened the eastern gate to a more inexorable foe. "No quarter," cried the rapacious and sanguinary Caled, "no quarter to the enemies of the Lord:" his trumpets sounded, and a torrent of Christian blood was poured down the streets of Damascus. When he reached the church of St. Mary, he was astonished and provoked by the peaceful aspect of his companions; their swords were in the scabbard, and they were surrounded by a multitude of priests and monks. Abu Obeidah saluted the general: "God," said he, "has delivered the city into my hands by way of surrender, and has saved the believers the trouble of fighting." "And am I not," replied the indignant Caled, "am I not the lieutenant of the commander of the faithful? Have I not taken the city by storm? The unbelievers shall perish by the sword. Fall on." The hungry and cruel Arabs would have obeyed the welcome command; and Damascus was lost, if the benevolence of Abu Obeidah had not been supported by a decent and dignified firmness. Throwing himself between the trembling citizens and the most eager of the Barbarians, he adjured them, by the holy name of God, to respect his promise, to suspend their fury, and to wait the determination of their chiefs. The chiefs retired into the church of St. Mary; and after a vehement debate, Caled submitted in some measure to the reason and authority of his colleague; who urged the sanctity of a covenant, the advantage as well as the honor which the Moslems would derive from the punctual performance of their word, and the obstinate resistance which they must encounter from the distrust and despair of the rest of the Syrian cities. It was agreed that the sword should be sheathed, that the part of Damascus which had surrendered to Abu Obeidah, should be immediately entitled to the benefit of his capitulation, and that the final decision should be referred to the justice and wisdom of the caliph. A large majority of the people accepted the terms of toleration and tribute; and Damascus is still peopled by twenty thousand Christians. But the valiant Thomas, and the free-born patriots who had fought under his banner, embraced the alternative of poverty and exile. In the adjacent meadow, a numerous encampment was formed of priests and laymen, of soldiers and citizens, of women and children: they collected, with haste and terror, their most precious movables; and abandoned, with loud lamentations, or silent anguish, their native homes, and the pleasant banks of the Pharpar. The inflexible soul of Caled was not touched by the spectacle of their distress: he disputed with the Damascenes the property of a magazine of corn; endeavored to exclude the garrison from the benefit of the treaty; consented, with reluctance, that each of the fugitives should arm himself with a sword, or a lance, or a bow; and sternly declared, that, after a respite of three days, they might be pursued and treated as the enemies of the Moslems.

After a siege lasting seventy days, the patience, and possibly the supplies, of the people of Damascus ran out; and the bravest of their leaders surrendered to the harsh demands of necessity. Throughout the events of peace and war, they had learned to fear the ferocity of Caled and to respect the gentle virtues of Abu Obeidah. At midnight, one hundred selected representatives from the clergy and the populace were brought to the tent of that esteemed commander. He welcomed and dismissed them politely. They returned with a written agreement, based on the faith of a companion of Muhammad, stating that all fighting would stop; that those who chose to leave could go safely, taking as much of their belongings as they could carry; and that the subjects of the caliph would keep their homes and lands, along with the use of seven churches. Under these terms, the most respected hostages were handed over, and the gate closest to his camp was delivered into his hands: his soldiers mirrored their leader's restraint; and he received the grateful submission of a people he had saved from destruction. But the success of the treaty caused them to let their guard down, and at the same moment, a different part of the city was betrayed and taken by force. A group of a hundred Arabs opened the eastern gate to a more relentless enemy. "No mercy," shouted the greedy and bloodthirsty Caled, "no mercy for the enemies of the Lord:" his trumpets blew, and a flood of Christian blood flowed through the streets of Damascus. When he arrived at the church of St. Mary, he was shocked and angered by the peaceful demeanor of his fellow soldiers; their swords were sheathed, and they were surrounded by a crowd of priests and monks. Abu Obeidah greeted the general: "God," he said, "has given the city into my hands through surrender, and has spared the believers the trouble of fighting." "And am I not," replied the outraged Caled, "am I not the deputy of the commander of the faithful? Did I not capture the city by force? The unbelievers must fall by the sword. Attack." The eager and cruel Arabs were ready to obey the welcome order; and Damascus would have been lost, if not for the goodwill of Abu Obeidah, who stood firm and dignified. Positioning himself between the frightened citizens and the most eager of the Barbarians, he urged them, by the holy name of God, to honor his promise, to hold back their rage, and to wait for their leaders' decision. The leaders retreated into the church of St. Mary; and after a vigorous debate, Caled somewhat yielded to his colleague's reasoning and authority, who stressed the importance of keeping a promise, the benefits and honor Muslims would gain from fulfilling their word, and the fierce resistance they would face from the distrust and despair of other Syrian cities. They agreed that the swords should be sheathed, that the part of Damascus which had surrendered to Abu Obeidah would immediately benefit from his agreement, and that the final decision would rest with the justice and wisdom of the caliph. A large majority of the people accepted the terms of tolerance and tribute; and Damascus still has twenty thousand Christians. However, the brave Thomas and the free-born patriots who fought under his banner chose the option of poverty and exile. In the nearby meadow, a large camp of priests and laypeople, soldiers and citizens, women and children was set up: they hurriedly and fearfully collected their most cherished belongings; and left, with loud cries of grief or silent anguish, their homes and the pleasant banks of the Pharpar. The hard-hearted Caled was unmoved by their suffering: he disputed with the Damascenes over a granary; tried to exclude the garrison from the treaty's benefits; reluctantly agreed that each of the fugitives should arm themselves with a sword, spear, or bow; and sternly announced that, after a three-day grace period, they could be pursued and treated as enemies of the Muslims.

The passion of a Syrian youth completed the ruin of the exiles of Damascus. A nobleman of the city, of the name of Jonas, was betrothed to a wealthy maiden; but her parents delayed the consummation of his nuptials, and their daughter was persuaded to escape with the man whom she had chosen. They corrupted the nightly watchmen of the gate Keisan; the lover, who led the way, was encompassed by a squadron of Arabs; but his exclamation in the Greek tongue, "The bird is taken," admonished his mistress to hasten her return. In the presence of Caled, and of death, the unfortunate Jonas professed his belief in one God and his apostle Mahomet; and continued, till the season of his martyrdom, to discharge the duties of a brave and sincere Mussulman. When the city was taken, he flew to the monastery, where Eudocia had taken refuge; but the lover was forgotten; the apostate was scorned; she preferred her religion to her country; and the justice of Caled, though deaf to mercy, refused to detain by force a male or female inhabitant of Damascus. Four days was the general confined to the city by the obligation of the treaty, and the urgent cares of his new conquest. His appetite for blood and rapine would have been extinguished by the hopeless computation of time and distance; but he listened to the importunities of Jonas, who assured him that the weary fugitives might yet be overtaken. At the head of four thousand horse, in the disguise of Christian Arabs, Caled undertook the pursuit. They halted only for the moments of prayer; and their guide had a perfect knowledge of the country. For a long way the footsteps of the Damascenes were plain and conspicuous: they vanished on a sudden; but the Saracens were comforted by the assurance that the caravan had turned aside into the mountains, and must speedily fall into their hands. In traversing the ridges of the Libanus, they endured intolerable hardships, and the sinking spirits of the veteran fanatics were supported and cheered by the unconquerable ardor of a lover. From a peasant of the country, they were informed that the emperor had sent orders to the colony of exiles to pursue without delay the road of the sea-coast, and of Constantinople, apprehensive, perhaps, that the soldiers and people of Antioch might be discouraged by the sight and the story of their sufferings. The Saracens were conducted through the territories of Gabala and Laodicea, at a cautious distance from the walls of the cities; the rain was incessant, the night was dark, a single mountain separated them from the Roman army; and Caled, ever anxious for the safety of his brethren, whispered an ominous dream in the ear of his companion. With the dawn of day, the prospect again cleared, and they saw before them, in a pleasant valley, the tents of Damascus. After a short interval of repose and prayer, Caled divided his cavalry into four squadrons, committing the first to his faithful Derar, and reserving the last for himself. They successively rushed on the promiscuous multitude, insufficiently provided with arms, and already vanquished by sorrow and fatigue. Except a captive, who was pardoned and dismissed, the Arabs enjoyed the satisfaction of believing that not a Christian of either sex escaped the edge of their cimeters. The gold and silver of Damascus was scattered over the camp, and a royal wardrobe of three hundred load of silk might clothe an army of naked Barbarians. In the tumult of the battle, Jonas sought and found the object of his pursuit: but her resentment was inflamed by the last act of his perfidy; and as Eudocia struggled in his hateful embraces, she struck a dagger to her heart. Another female, the widow of Thomas, and the real or supposed daughter of Heraclius, was spared and released without a ransom; but the generosity of Caled was the effect of his contempt; and the haughty Saracen insulted, by a message of defiance, the throne of the Cæsars. Caled had penetrated above a hundred and fifty miles into the heart of the Roman province: he returned to Damascus with the same secrecy and speed On the accession of Omar, the Sword of God was removed from the command; but the caliph, who blamed the rashness, was compelled to applaud the vigor and conduct, of the enterprise.

The passion of a Syrian youth led to the downfall of the exiles from Damascus. A nobleman named Jonas was engaged to a wealthy young woman, but her parents delayed their marriage, and she was persuaded to run away with the man she loved. They bribed the night watchmen at the Keisan gate; the lover, who was leading the way, was surrounded by a group of Arabs. His shout in Greek, "The bird is taken," warned his girlfriend to hurry back. Faced with Caled and death, the unfortunate Jonas declared his belief in one God and His prophet Muhammad; he continued to fulfill the duties of a brave and sincere Muslim until the time of his martyrdom. When the city fell, he rushed to the monastery where Eudocia had sought refuge, but he was forgotten; the traitor was scorned; she chose her religion over her country; and Caled's justice, though lacking mercy, refused to forcibly detain any man or woman from Damascus. The general was bound to stay in the city for four days due to the treaty obligations and the pressing issues of his new conquest. His thirst for blood and plunder would have been quelled by the hopeless calculation of time and distance; however, he listened to Jonas’s pleas, who assured him that the tired fugitives could still be caught. Leading four thousand horsemen disguised as Christian Arabs, Caled set out in pursuit. They only paused for prayer, and their guide was well-acquainted with the area. For a long stretch, the footsteps of the Damascenes were clear and visible, but they suddenly disappeared. The Saracens were reassured by the belief that the caravan had diverted into the mountains and would soon fall into their hands. While crossing the ridges of the Lebanon, they faced unbearable hardships, and the spirits of the veteran warriors were lifted and encouraged by the relentless enthusiasm of a lover. A local peasant informed them that the emperor had ordered the group of exiles to follow the coastal route to Constantinople, perhaps fearing that the soldiers and people of Antioch would be discouraged by seeing and hearing about their suffering. The Saracens moved through the territories of Gabala and Laodicea, keeping a safe distance from the city walls; the rain fell constantly, the night was dark, and a single mountain separated them from the Roman army. Caled, always concerned for the safety of his men, shared an ominous dream with his companion. When dawn broke, the view cleared, and they saw the tents of Damascus in a beautiful valley. After a brief rest and prayer, Caled split his cavalry into four squadrons, assigning the first to his loyal Derar and keeping the last for himself. They charged at the mixed crowd, poorly armed and already defeated by sadness and fatigue. Apart from one pardoned captive, the Arabs were satisfied in believing that not a single Christian of either gender escaped the blade of their swords. The gold and silver from Damascus was scattered across the camp, and a royal wardrobe containing three hundred loads of silk could have clothed an army of naked barbarians. Amid the chaos of the battle, Jonas sought out the one he pursued: but her anger flared due to his last act of betrayal; as Eudocia fought against his unwanted grasp, she stabbed herself in the heart. Another woman, the widow of Thomas and either the real or supposed daughter of Heraclius, was spared and released without a ransom; but Caled's generosity stemmed from his disdain, and the proud Saracen sent a defiant message to the throne of the Caesars. Caled had penetrated over one hundred and fifty miles into Roman territory: he returned to Damascus with the same stealth and urgency. With the rise of Omar, the Sword of God was removed from command; however, the caliph, who criticized the recklessness, was nonetheless forced to commend the energy and skill of the mission.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part IV.

Another expedition of the conquerors of Damascus will equally display their avidity and their contempt for the riches of the present world. They were informed that the produce and manufactures of the country were annually collected in the fair of Abyla, about thirty miles from the city; that the cell of a devout hermit was visited at the same time by a multitude of pilgrims; and that the festival of trade and superstition would be ennobled by the nuptials of the daughter of the governor of Tripoli. Abdallah, the son of Jaafar, a glorious and holy martyr, undertook, with a banner of five hundred horse, the pious and profitable commission of despoiling the infidels. As he approached the fair of Abyla, he was astonished by the report of this mighty concourse of Jews and Christians, Greeks, and Armenians, of natives of Syria and of strangers of Egypt, to the number of ten thousand, besides a guard of five thousand horse that attended the person of the bride. The Saracens paused: "For my own part," said Abdallah, "I dare not go back: our foes are many, our danger is great, but our reward is splendid and secure, either in this life or in the life to come. Let every man, according to his inclination, advance or retire." Not a Mussulman deserted his standard. "Lead the way," said Abdallah to his Christian guide, "and you shall see what the companions of the prophet can perform." They charged in five squadrons; but after the first advantage of the surprise, they were encompassed and almost overwhelmed by the multitude of their enemies; and their valiant band is fancifully compared to a white spot in the skin of a black camel. About the hour of sunset, when their weapons dropped from their hands, when they panted on the verge of eternity, they discovered an approaching cloud of dust; they heard the welcome sound of the tecbir, and they soon perceived the standard of Caled, who flew to their relief with the utmost speed of his cavalry. The Christians were broken by his attack, and slaughtered in their flight, as far as the river of Tripoli. They left behind them the various riches of the fair; the merchandises that were exposed for sale, the money that was brought for purchase, the gay decorations of the nuptials, and the governor's daughter, with forty of her female attendants. The fruits, provisions, and furniture, the money, plate, and jewels, were diligently laden on the backs of horses, asses, and mules; and the holy robbers returned in triumph to Damascus. The hermit, after a short and angry controversy with Caled, declined the crown of martyrdom, and was left alive in the solitary scene of blood and devastation.

Another expedition by the conquerors of Damascus will clearly show their greed and disregard for the wealth of this world. They found out that the products and goods of the region were gathered every year at the fair in Abyla, about thirty miles from the city; that a devout hermit's cell was visited at the same time by many pilgrims; and that the festival combining trade and superstition would be made even more special by the wedding of the governor of Tripoli's daughter. Abdallah, the son of Jaafar, a glorious and holy martyr, took on the honorable and profitable task of raiding the infidels with a banner of five hundred horsemen. As he neared the fair in Abyla, he was astonished by the sight of a massive crowd of Jews and Christians, Greeks and Armenians, locals from Syria, and visitors from Egypt, numbering around ten thousand, plus a guard of five thousand horsemen accompanying the bride. The Saracens hesitated: "For my part," Abdallah said, "I dare not turn back: our enemies are numerous, our danger is great, but our reward is magnificent and guaranteed, either in this life or the next. Let everyone go forward or retreat according to his own desire." No Muslim abandoned his banner. "Lead on," Abdallah told his Christian guide, "and you will see what the companions of the prophet can achieve." They charged in five groups; but after the initial surprise, they were surrounded and nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of their foes; their brave group is fancifully compared to a white spot on a black camel. Around sunset, when their weapons fell from their hands and they were gasping on the edge of death, they noticed a cloud of dust approaching; they heard the welcome sound of the tecbir, and soon saw Caled's banner, who rushed to their aid with the fastest cavalry. The Christians were broken by his attack and slaughtered in their flight all the way to the river of Tripoli. They left behind the various treasures of the fair; the goods for sale, the money brought for purchases, the elaborate decorations for the wedding, and the governor's daughter, along with forty of her female attendants. The fruits, food, and supplies, along with money, silver, and jewels, were quickly loaded onto the backs of horses, donkeys, and mules; and the holy raiders returned triumphantly to Damascus. The hermit, after a brief and heated argument with Caled, rejected the chance for martyrdom and was left alive in the bloody and devastated scene.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part V.

Syria, one of the countries that have been improved by the most early cultivation, is not unworthy of the preference. The heat of the climate is tempered by the vicinity of the sea and mountains, by the plenty of wood and water; and the produce of a fertile soil affords the subsistence, and encourages the propagation, of men and animals. From the age of David to that of Heraclius, the country was overspread with ancient and flourishing cities: the inhabitants were numerous and wealthy; and, after the slow ravage of despotism and superstition, after the recent calamities of the Persian war, Syria could still attract and reward the rapacious tribes of the desert. A plain, of ten days' journey, from Damascus to Aleppo and Antioch, is watered, on the western side, by the winding course of the Orontes. The hills of Libanus and Anti-Libanus are planted from north to south, between the Orontes and the Mediterranean; and the epithet of hollow (Clesyria) was applied to a long and fruitful valley, which is confined in the same direction, by the two ridges of snowy mountains. Among the cities, which are enumerated by Greek and Oriental names in the geography and conquest of Syria, we may distinguish Emesa or Hems, Heliopolis or Baalbec, the former as the metropolis of the plain, the latter as the capital of the valley. Under the last of the Cæsars, they were strong and populous; the turrets glittered from afar: an ample space was covered with public and private buildings; and the citizens were illustrious by their spirit, or at least by their pride; by their riches, or at least by their luxury. In the days of Paganism, both Emesa and Heliopolis were addicted to the worship of Baal, or the sun; but the decline of their superstition and splendor has been marked by a singular variety of fortune. Not a vestige remains of the temple of Emesa, which was equalled in poetic style to the summits of Mount Libanus, while the ruins of Baalbec, invisible to the writers of antiquity, excite the curiosity and wonder of the European traveller. The measure of the temple is two hundred feet in length, and one hundred in breadth: the front is adorned with a double portico of eight columns; fourteen may be counted on either side; and each column, forty-five feet in height, is composed of three massy blocks of stone or marble. The proportions and ornaments of the Corinthian order express the architecture of the Greeks: but as Baalbec has never been the seat of a monarch, we are at a loss to conceive how the expense of these magnificent structures could be supplied by private or municipal liberality. From the conquest of Damascus the Saracens proceeded to Heliopolis and Emesa: but I shall decline the repetition of the sallies and combats which have been already shown on a larger scale. 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; familiarized 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. In a recent action, under the walls of Emesa, an Arabian youth, the cousin of Caled, was heard aloud to exclaim, "Methinks I see the black-eyed girls looking upon me; one of whom, should she appear in this world, all mankind would die for love of her. And I see in the hand of one of them a handkerchief of green silk, and a cap of precious stones, and she beckons me, and calls out, Come hither quickly, for I love thee." With these words, charging the Christians, he made havoc wherever he went, till, observed at length by the governor of Hems, he was struck through with a javelin.

Syria, one of the countries that benefited the most from early agriculture, truly deserves attention. The climate's heat is balanced by the nearby sea and mountains, with plenty of wood and water available; the productivity of its rich soil supports the livelihood and growth of both people and animals. From the time of David to Heraclius, the region was dotted with ancient thriving cities: the people were numerous and wealthy; and despite the slow destruction brought by tyranny and superstition, and the recent hardships from the Persian war, Syria could still attract and reward the greedy tribes from the desert. There’s a plain, journeying about ten days from Damascus to Aleppo and Antioch, watered on the western side by the winding Orontes River. The hills of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon stretch from north to south, positioned between the Orontes and the Mediterranean; and the term hollow (Clesyria) referred to a long, fruitful valley enclosed in the same direction by two snowy mountain ranges. Among the cities mentioned by Greek and Oriental names in the geography and conquests of Syria, we can identify Emesa or Homs, and Heliopolis or Baalbek, the former as the main city of the plain, and the latter as the capital of the valley. During the reign of the last Caesars, both were strong and populated; their towers shimmered from a distance: a large area was filled with public and private buildings; and the citizens were known for their spirit, or at least their pride; for their wealth, or at least their luxury. In pagan times, both Emesa and Heliopolis worshipped Baal, or the sun; yet the decline of their superstitions and splendor has been marked by a variety of fortunes. Not a trace remains of the temple in Emesa, which was poetically compared to the peaks of Mount Lebanon, while the ruins of Baalbek, which were unknown to ancient writers, now draw the curiosity and awe of European travelers. The temple measures two hundred feet long and one hundred feet wide: the front features a double entrance with eight columns; you can count fourteen on either side; and each column, standing forty-five feet tall, is made of three massive blocks of stone or marble. The proportions and decorations of the Corinthian style reflect Greek architecture: but since Baalbek has never been the seat of a king, it's hard to imagine how the funding for these magnificent structures could have come from private or city generosity. After conquering Damascus, the Saracens moved on to Heliopolis and Emesa: yet I won’t repeat the skirmishes and battles that have already been discussed more extensively. During the war, their strategy was just as effective as their military strength. Through brief and separate truces, they broke the enemy’s alliance; got the Syrians used to comparing their friendships with their hostilities; introduced them to their language, religion, and customs; and drained the cities’ supplies and arsenals through secret purchases before laying siege again. They increased the ransom demands for the wealthier or more defiant; for example, Chalcis alone was charged five thousand ounces of gold, five thousand ounces of silver, two thousand silk robes, and enough figs and olives to load five thousand donkeys. However, the terms of truces or agreements were faithfully upheld; and the caliph’s lieutenant, who had promised not to breach the walls of the captured Baalbek, remained calm and unmoving in his tent until the conflicting factions sought the intervention of an outside master. The conquest of the plain and valley of Syria was completed in less than two years. Still, the commander of the faithful criticized their slow advance; and the Saracens, lamenting their mistake with tears of anger and regret, loudly called for their leaders to take them into battle for the Lord. In a recent fight near Emesa, a young Arabian, a cousin of Khalid, was heard exclaiming, "I think I see the beautiful dark-eyed girls looking at me; one of them, if she came into this world, everyone would die for love of her. And I see in one of their hands a green silk handkerchief, and a cap of precious stones, and she beckons me, calling out, 'Come here quickly, for I love you.'" With these words, he charged at the Christians, causing chaos wherever he went, until at last, the governor of Homs saw him and struck him down with a javelin.

It was incumbent on the Saracens to exert the full powers of their valor 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 tribe of Gassan. Under the banner of Jabalah, the last of their princes, they marched in the van; and it was a maxim of the Greeks, that for the purpose of cutting diamond, a diamond was the most effectual. Heraclius withheld his person from the dangers of the field; but his presumption, or perhaps his despondency, suggested a peremptory order, that the fate of the province and the war should be decided by a single battle. The Syrians were attached to the standard of Rome and of the cross: but the noble, the citizen, the peasant, were exasperated by the injustice and cruelty of a licentious host, who oppressed them as subjects, and despised them as strangers and aliens. A report of these mighty preparations was conveyed to the Saracens in their camp of Emesa, and the chiefs, though resolved to fight, assembled a council: the faith of Abu Obeidah would have expected on the same spot the glory of martyrdom; the wisdom of Caled advised an honorable retreat to the skirts of Palestine and Arabia, where they might await the succors of their friends, and the attack of the unbelievers. A speedy messenger soon returned from the throne of Medina, with the blessings of Omar and Ali, the prayers of the widows of the prophet, and a reënforcement of eight thousand Moslems. In their way they overturned a detachment of Greeks, and when they joined at Yermuk the camp of their brethren, they found the pleasing intelligence, that Caled had already defeated and scattered the Christian Arabs of the tribe of Gassan. In the neighborhood 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 Obeidah, restored the command to the most deserving of the Moslems. Caled assumed his station in the front, his colleague was posted in the rear, that the disorder of the fugitive might be checked by his venerable aspect, and the sight of the yellow banner which Mahomet had displayed before the walls of Chaibar. 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. In the intervals of action, Abu Obeidah visited the tents of his brethren, prolonged their repose by repeating at once the prayers of two different hours, bound up their wounds with his own hands, and administered the comfortable reflection, that the infidels partook of their sufferings without partaking of their reward. Four thousand 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. Manuel, the Roman general, was either killed at Damascus, or took refuge in the monastery of Mount Sinai. An exile in the Byzantine court, Jabalah lamented the manners of Arabia, and his unlucky preference of the Christian cause. He had once inclined to the profession of Islam; but in the pilgrimage of Mecca, Jabalah was provoked to strike one of his brethren, and fled with amazement from the stern and equal justice of the caliph. These victorious Saracens enjoyed at Damascus a month of pleasure and repose: the spoil was divided by the discretion of Abu Obeidah: an equal share was allotted to a soldier and to his horse, and a double portion was reserved for the noble coursers of the Arabian breed.

It was essential for the Saracens to fully unleash their courage and passion against the emperor's forces, who learned through repeated defeats that the desert raiders were determined to achieve a complete and lasting conquest. From Europe and Asia, eighty thousand soldiers were transported by sea and land to Antioch and Cæsarea: the light troops of the army included sixty thousand Christian Arabs from the Gassan tribe. Under the banner of Jabalah, their last prince, they marched at the forefront; the Greeks had a saying that to cut a diamond, you needed another diamond. Heraclius kept himself away from the dangers of battle, but either out of arrogance or despair, he issued a firm order that the fate of the province and the war should be decided in a single battle. The Syrians were loyal to Rome and the cross, yet the nobles, citizens, and peasants were angered by the injustice and cruelty of a reckless army that oppressed them as subjects and looked down on them as foreigners. News of these large preparations reached the Saracens at their camp in Emesa, and though they were eager to fight, the leaders gathered for a council: Abu Obeidah would have expected to find glory in martyrdom there, while Caled suggested a strategic retreat to the borders of Palestine and Arabia, where they could wait for reinforcements and the enemy's attack. A swift messenger soon returned from Medina with the blessings of Omar and Ali, the prayers of the prophet’s widows, and an additional eight thousand Muslims. On their way, they defeated a small group of Greeks, and when they joined their fellow fighters at Yermuk, they received the encouraging news that Caled had already defeated and scattered the Christian Arabs of the Gassan tribe. Near Bosra, the springs of Mount Hermon flow into the plain of Decapolis, or "Ten Cities," and the river Hieromax, now known as Yermuk, quickly disappears into Lake Tiberias. The banks of this lesser-known stream became notable for a lengthy and bloody battle. On this crucial occasion, the public sentiment and Abu Obeidah's humility restored command to the most deserving Muslim leader. Caled took position at the front, while his colleague held the rear to control the retreating men with his respected presence and the sight of the yellow banner that Muhammad had flown before the walls of Khaybar. The last line was held by Derar's sister and the Arabian women who had joined this holy war; they were skilled in using the bow and spear and had defended their honor and faith against their assailants. The generals’ rallying cry was brief and powerful: "Paradise is in front of you, while hellfire is behind!" However, the strength of the Roman cavalry broke the right wing of the Arabs, separating them from the main group. They fell back three times, and each time were rallied back into the fray by the scorn and blows of the women. In the lulls between fighting, Abu Obeidah visited his comrades' tents, extended their rest by combining prayers from two different times, tended to their wounds himself, and reminded them that the infidels were suffering without the reward. Four thousand thirty Muslims were buried on the battlefield, and seven hundred Armenian archers could claim to have lost an eye in honorable service. The seasoned fighters of the Syrian campaign admitted it was the hardest and most uncertain day they had encountered. Yet, it was also the most decisive: thousands of Greeks and Syrians fell to the swords of the Arabs; many were slaughtered in the woods and mountains after the defeat; many drowned in the waters of Yermuk when they chose the wrong place to cross; and however much their losses may be exaggerated, Christian writers acknowledge and mourn the bloody retribution for their sins. Manuel, the Roman general, was either killed in Damascus or found refuge in the monastery of Mount Sinai. Jabalah, now an exile in the Byzantine court, mourned the ways of Arabia and his unfortunate support of the Christian cause. He had once considered converting to Islam, but during the pilgrimage to Mecca, he was provoked into striking one of his fellow Muslims and fled in shock from the strict and fair justice of the caliph. These victorious Saracens enjoyed a month of relaxation and pleasure in Damascus: the spoils were distributed by Abu Obeidah’s judgment, with each soldier and their horse receiving an equal share, while double portions were set aside for the noble Arabian steeds.

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 Mahomet himself. The son of Abu Sophian was sent with five thousand Arabs to try the first experiment of surprise or treaty; but on the eleventh day, the town was invested by the whole force of Abu Obeidah. He addressed the customary summons to the chief commanders and people of Ælia.

After the battle of Yermuk, the Roman army stopped appearing in the field, allowing the Saracens to choose from the fortified towns of Syria for their first attack. They consulted the caliph about whether to march on Cæsarea or Jerusalem, and Ali's advice led them to lay siege to the latter right away. To a modern observer, Jerusalem was either the first or second capital of Palestine; however, after Mecca and Medina, it was highly revered and visited by devout Muslims as the cornerstone of the Holy Land, sanctified by the revelations of Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad himself. The son of Abu Sophian was sent with five thousand Arabs to try an initial approach of surprise or negotiation; but on the eleventh day, the entire force of Abu Obeidah surrounded the town. He issued the usual summons to the chief commanders and people of Ælia.

"Health and happiness to every one that follows the right way! We require of you to testify that there is but one God, and that Mahomet is his apostle. If you refuse this, consent to pay tribute, and be under us forthwith. Otherwise I shall bring men against you who love death better than you do the drinking of wine or eating hog's flesh. Nor will I ever stir from you, if it please God, till I have destroyed those that fight for you, and made slaves of your children." But the city was defended on every side by deep valleys and steep ascents; since the invasion of Syria, the walls and towers had been anxiously restored; the bravest of the fugitives of Yermuk had stopped in the nearest place of refuge; and in the defence of the sepulchre of Christ, the natives and strangers might feel some sparks of the enthusiasm, which so fiercely glowed in the bosoms of the Saracens. 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 his 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. Wherever he halted, the company, without distinction, was invited to partake of his homely fare, and the repast was consecrated by the prayer and exhortation of the commander of the faithful. But in this expedition or pilgrimage, his power was exercised in the administration of justice: he reformed the licentious polygamy of the Arabs, relieved the tributaries from extortion and cruelty, and chastised the luxury of the Saracens, by despoiling them of their rich silks, and dragging them on their faces in the dirt. When he came within sight of Jerusalem, the caliph cried with a loud voice, "God is victorious. O Lord, give us an easy conquest!" and, pitching his tent of coarse hair, calmly seated himself on the ground. After signing the capitulation, he entered the city without fear or precaution; and courteously discoursed with the patriarch concerning its religious antiquities. Sophronius bowed before his new master, and secretly muttered, in the words of Daniel, "The abomination of desolation is in the holy place." At the hour of prayer they stood together in the church of the resurrection; but the caliph refused to perform his devotions, and contented himself with praying on the steps of the church of Constantine. To the patriarch he disclosed his prudent and honorable motive. "Had I yielded," said Omar, "to your request, the Moslems of a future age would have infringed the treaty under color of imitating my example." By his command the ground of the temple of Solomon was prepared for the foundation of a mosch; 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.

"Health and happiness to everyone who follows the right path! We ask you to testify that there is only one God, and that Muhammad is His messenger. If you refuse this, agree to pay tribute and submit to us immediately. Otherwise, I will send men against you who value death more than you value drinking wine or eating pork. And I will never leave you, if God wills, until I have destroyed those who fight for you and made slaves of your children." But the city was protected on all sides by deep valleys and steep hills; since the invasion of Syria, the walls and towers had been anxiously repaired; the bravest of the refugees from Yermuk had gathered in the closest place of safety; and in the defense of the tomb of Christ, both locals and outsiders felt some of the passion that burned fiercely in the hearts of the Saracens. The siege of Jerusalem lasted four months; not a single day passed without some act of attack or sortie; the siege engines constantly operated from the ramparts; and the harshness of winter was even more painful and harmful to the Arabs. Eventually, the Christians gave in to the determination of the besiegers. Patriarch Sophronius appeared on the walls and, through an interpreter, requested a meeting. After unsuccessfully trying to persuade the caliph's lieutenant to abandon his impious mission, he proposed, on behalf of the people, a fair negotiation, with the extraordinary condition that the security terms be confirmed by Omar himself. The matter was debated in the council of Medina; the sacred nature of the place and Ali’s counsel convinced the caliph to meet the desires of both his soldiers and his enemies; and the simplicity of his journey was more remarkable than the royal displays of pride and oppression. The conqueror of Persia and Syria rode on a red camel, which carried, in addition to himself, a bag of grain, a bag of dates, a wooden bowl, and a leather water container. Wherever he stopped, everyone was invited to share his simple meal, and the meal was blessed by the prayer and encouragement of the commander of the faithful. But in this expedition or pilgrimage, he exercised his power in administering justice: he reformed the uncontrolled polygamy of the Arabs, eased the burdens of the tributaries from greed and cruelty, and punished the extravagance of the Saracens by stripping them of their fine silks and dragging them through the dirt. When he saw Jerusalem, the caliph shouted, "God is victorious. O Lord, grant us an easy victory!" and, setting up his coarse hair tent, calmly sat on the ground. After signing the agreement, he entered the city without fear or caution; and engaged in polite conversation with the patriarch about its religious history. Sophronius bowed before his new ruler and silently muttered, using the words of Daniel, "The abomination of desolation is in the holy place." At prayer time, they stood together in the Church of the Resurrection; but the caliph refused to pray there, choosing instead to pray on the steps of the Church of Constantine. He explained to the patriarch his wise and honorable reasoning. "If I had agreed," Omar said, "the Muslims of the future would break the treaty under the guise of following my example." By his order, the ground of Solomon’s temple was prepared for a mosque's foundation; and during his ten-day stay, he organized the present and future state of his Syrian conquests. Medina might have been concerned that the caliph would be captivated by the holiness of Jerusalem or the beauty of Damascus; her fears were eased by his quick and willing 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 Amrou and Yezid, was left in the camp of Palestine; while the larger division, under the standard of Abu Obeidah and Caled, marched away to the north against Antioch and Aleppo. The latter of these, the Beræa of the Greeks, was not yet illustrious as the capital of a province or a kingdom; and the inhabitants, by anticipating their submission and pleading their poverty, obtained a moderate composition for their lives and religion. But the castle of Aleppo, distinct from the city, stood erect on a lofty artificial mound; the sides were sharpened to a precipice, and faced with free-stone; and the breadth of the ditch might be filled with water from the neighboring springs. After the loss of three thousand men, the garrison was still equal to the defence; and Youkinna, their valiant and hereditary chief, had murdered his brother, a holy monk, for daring to pronounce the name of peace. In a siege of four or five months, the hardest of the Syrian war, great numbers of the Saracens were killed and wounded: their removal to the distance of a mile could not seduce the vigilance of Youkinna; nor could the Christians be terrified by the execution of three hundred captives, whom they beheaded before the castle wall. The silence, and at length the complaints, of Abu Obeidah informed the caliph that their hope and patience were consumed at the foot of this impregnable fortress. "I am variously affected," replied Omar, "by the difference of your success; but I charge you by no means to raise the siege of the castle. Your retreat would diminish the reputation of our arms, and encourage the infidels to fall upon you on all sides. Remain before Aleppo till God shall determine the event, and forage with your horse round the adjacent country." The exhortation of the commander of the faithful was fortified 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. The forty-seventh day of his service he proposed, with only thirty men, to make an attempt on the castle. The experience and testimony of Caled recommended his offer; and Abu Obeidah admonished his brethren not to despise the baser origin of Dames, since he himself, could he relinquish the public care, would cheerfully serve under the banner of the slave. His design was covered by the appearance of a retreat; and the camp of the Saracens was pitched about a league from Aleppo. The thirty adventurers lay in ambush at the foot of the hill; and Dames at length succeeded in his inquiries, though he was provoked by the ignorance of his Greek captives. "God curse these dogs," said the illiterate Arab; "what a strange barbarous language they speak!" At the darkest hour of the night, he scaled the most accessible height, which he had diligently surveyed, 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. With bold and cautious footsteps, Dames explored the palace of the governor, who celebrated, in riotous merriment, the festival of his deliverance. From thence, returning to his companions, he assaulted on the inside the entrance of the castle. They overpowered the guard, unbolted the gate, let down the drawbridge, and defended the narrow pass, till the arrival of Caled, with the dawn of day, relieved their danger and assured their conquest. Youkinna, a formidable foe, became an active and useful proselyte; and the general of the Saracens expressed his regard for the most humble merit, by detaining the army at Aleppo till Dames was cured of his honorable wounds. The capital of Syria was still covered by the castle of Aazaz and the iron bridge of the Orontes. After the loss of those important posts, 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 of 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.

To deal with what was left of the Syrian war, the caliph formed two separate armies. A chosen group, led by Amrou and Yezid, stayed in the camp of Palestine, while the larger division, under the banners of Abu Obeidah and Caled, moved north toward Antioch and Aleppo. Antioch, known as the Beræa by the Greeks, wasn't yet famous as the capital of a province or kingdom; the residents, hoping to avoid conflict and citing their poverty, negotiated for a reasonable deal regarding their lives and faith. However, the castle of Aleppo, separate from the city, stood tall on a high artificial mound; its sides were steep and made of stone, and the ditch could be filled with water from nearby springs. Despite losing three thousand men, the garrison remained capable of defending the castle, and their brave leader, Youkinna, had killed his brother, a holy monk, for daring to mention peace. During a tough four to five-month siege, the fiercest phase of the Syrian war, many Saracens were killed and injured. Even moving a mile away didn't distract Youkinna, and the Christians weren't scared by the beheading of three hundred captives right before the castle walls. The silence, and eventually the complaints of Abu Obeidah, alerted the caliph that their hope and patience were wearing thin against this impregnable fortress. "I'm feeling conflicted," Omar replied, "about the difference in your success. But I urge you not to lift the siege from the castle. Retreating would hurt our reputation and would encourage the infidels to attack you from all sides. Stay at Aleppo until God decides what happens, and scout with your horses in the surrounding area." The caliph's encouragement was backed by a fresh supply of volunteers from all the tribes of Arabia, who arrived at the camp on horseback or camels. Among them was Dames, who was of low birth but of massive size and bold spirit. On the forty-seventh day of his service, he suggested that with just thirty men, he could try to attack the castle. Caled endorsed his proposal, and Abu Obeidah urged his comrades not to overlook Dames' lower status, noting that he would gladly serve under the banner of a slave if he could set aside his responsibilities. Dames' plan was hidden behind a feigned retreat, and the Saracens set up camp about a league from Aleppo. The thirty brave men lay in wait at the base of the hill, and Dames eventually managed to get information, even though he was frustrated by the ignorance of his Greek captives. "Damn these dogs," muttered the uneducated Arab. "What a strange, savage language they speak!" In the darkest hour of the night, he climbed the most accessible height, which he had carefully surveyed—a spot where the stones were loose, the slope less steep, and the guards less alert. Seven of the strongest Saracens stood on each other's shoulders, with the weight of the group resting on the broad, muscular back of the giant slave. Those at the top made it to the lowest part of the battlements, silently taking down the sentinels, and the thirty comrades, reciting a prayer, "O apostle of God, help and save us!" were pulled up by the long folds of their turbans. Moving boldly and cautiously, Dames explored the governor's palace, where the governor was celebrating with wild joy the festival of his alleged rescue. After that, he returned to his comrades and attacked the castle's entrance from the inside. They overpowered the guard, unlatched the gate, lowered the drawbridge, and defended the narrow passage until Caled arrived at dawn, relieving their danger and securing their victory. Youkinna, a formidable enemy, became an active and useful convert; and the general of the Saracens showed respect for even the humblest merit by keeping the army in Aleppo until Dames recovered from his honorable injuries. The capital of Syria was still protected by the castle of Aazaz and the iron bridge over the Orontes River. After losing those crucial positions and defeating the last of the Roman armies, the luxury of Antioch was shaken and subdued. Its safety came at a cost of three hundred thousand gold pieces; however, the throne of the successors of Alexander, the base of the Roman government in the East, which had been honored by Caesar with the titles of free, holy, and inviolable, was reduced under the caliphs to the status of a provincial town.

In the life of Heraclius, the glories of the Persian war are clouded on either hand by the disgrace and weakness of his more early and his later days. When the successors of Mahomet unsheathed the sword of war and religion, he was astonished at the boundless prospect of toil and danger; his nature was indolent, nor could the infirm and frigid age of the emperor be kindled to a second effort. The sense of shame, and the importunities of the Syrians, prevented the hasty departure from the scene of action; but the hero was no more; and 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; and the desertion of Youkinna, his false repentance and repeated perfidy, might justify the suspicion of the emperor, that he was encompassed by traitors and apostates, who conspired to betray his person and their country to the enemies of Christ. In the hour of adversity, his superstition was agitated by the omens and dreams of a falling crown; and after bidding an eternal farewell to Syria, he secretly embarked with a few attendants, and absolved the faith of his subjects. Constantine, his eldest son, had been stationed with forty thousand men at Cæsarea, the civil metropolis of the three provinces of Palestine. But his private interest recalled him to the Byzantine court; and, after the flight of his father, he felt himself an unequal champion to the united force of the caliph. His vanguard was boldly attacked by three hundred Arabs and a thousand black slaves, who, in the depth of winter, had climbed the snowy mountains of Libanus, and who were speedily followed by the victorious squadrons of Caled himself. From the north and south the troops of Antioch and Jerusalem advanced along the sea-shore till their banners were joined under the walls of the Phœnician cities: Tripoli and Tyre were betrayed; and a fleet of fifty transports, which entered without distrust the captive harbors, brought a seasonable supply of arms and provisions to the camp of the Saracens. Their labors were terminated by the unexpected surrender of Cæsarea: the Roman prince had embarked in the night; and the defenceless citizens solicited their pardon with an offering of two hundred thousand pieces of gold. The remainder of the province, Ramlah, Ptolemais or Acre, Sichem or Neapolis, Gaza, Ascalon, 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.

In the life of Heraclius, the glory of the Persian war is overshadowed by the disgrace and weakness of both his early and later years. When the followers of Mahomet drew their swords for war and religion, he was taken aback by the endless prospects of hardship and danger; he was naturally lazy, and the frail and cold age of the emperor couldn’t inspire a second attempt. Shame, along with the pressure from the Syrians, prevented a quick retreat from the battlefield; but the hero was gone, and the losses of Damascus and Jerusalem, along with the bloody battles of Aiznadin and Yermuk, can partly be blamed on the king's absence or poor conduct. Instead of defending Christ's tomb, he dragged the church and state into a philosophical debate about the unity of his will; and while Heraclius celebrated the children from his second marriage, he was passively stripped of the most valuable part of their inheritance. In the cathedral of Antioch, in front of the bishops and at the foot of the crucifix, he mourned the sins of the prince and people; but his confession showed the world that it was futile, and perhaps blasphemous, to oppose God's judgment. The Saracens were practically invincible because they believed they were invincible; and the defection of Youkinna, along with his false remorse and repeated betrayals, made the emperor suspect he was surrounded by traitors and renegades who conspired to turn him and their country over to Christ's enemies. In the face of adversity, his superstitions were stirred by omens and dreams of a crumbling crown; and after saying an eternal goodbye to Syria, he sneaked away with a few followers and abandoned the faith of his subjects. Constantine, his eldest son, had been stationed with forty thousand men at Cæsarea, the civil center of the three provinces of Palestine. However, his personal interest pulled him back to the Byzantine court; and after his father's flight, he felt inadequate to face the combined strength of the caliph. His advance guard was boldly attacked by three hundred Arabs and a thousand black slaves, who had climbed the snowy mountains of Libanus during the harsh winter, soon followed by the victorious troops led by Caled himself. From the north and south, the forces of Antioch and Jerusalem moved along the seashore until their banners united at the walls of the Phoenician cities: Tripoli and Tyre were betrayed; and a fleet of fifty transports, which entered the captured harbors without suspicion, brought a timely supply of weapons and provisions to the Saracen camp. Their efforts were concluded by the unexpected surrender of Cæsarea: the Roman prince had sailed off during the night, and the defenseless citizens sought forgiveness with an offering of two hundred thousand pieces of gold. The rest of the province—Ramlah, Ptolemais or Acre, Sichem or Neapolis, Gaza, Ascalon, Berytus, Sidon, Gabala, Laodicea, Apamea, Hierapolis—no longer dared oppose the conqueror’s will; and Syria fell under the rule of the caliphs seven hundred years after Pompey had stripped the last of the Macedonian kings.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part VI.

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 the fading delights of this world, that have prompted me to devote my life in the cause of religion. But I seek the favor 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 faithful captives might exercise a passive and more arduous resolution; and a cousin of Mahomet is celebrated for refusing, after an abstinence of three days, the wine and pork, the only nourishment that was allowed by the malice of the infidels. The frailty of some weaker brethren exasperated the implacable spirit of fanaticism; and the father of Amer deplored, in pathetic strains, the apostasy and damnation of a son, who had renounced the promises of God, and the intercession of the prophet, to occupy, with the priests and deacons, the lowest mansions of hell. The more fortunate Arabs, who survived the war and persevered in the faith, were restrained by their abstemious leader from the abuse of prosperity. After a refreshment of three days, Abu Obeidah 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 labor. But the virtue of Omar, however rigorous to himself, was kind and liberal to his brethren. After a just tribute of praise and thanksgiving, he dropped a tear of compassion; and sitting down on the ground, wrote an answer, in which he mildly censured the severity of his lieutenant: "God," said the successor of the prophet, "has not forbidden the use of the good things of this world to faithful men, and such as have performed good works. Therefore you ought to have given them leave to rest themselves, and partake freely of those good things which the country affordeth. If any of the Saracens have no family in Arabia, they may marry in Syria; and whosoever of them wants any female slaves, he may purchase as many as he hath occasion for." The conquerors prepared to use, or to abuse, this gracious permission; but 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 Obeidah might be lamented by the Christians; but his brethren recollected that he was one of the ten elect whom the prophet had named as the heirs of paradise. Caled survived his brethren about three years: and the tomb of the Sword of God is shown in the neighborhood of Emesa. His valor, 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 Mahomet, he deemed himself invulnerable amidst the darts of the infidels.

The sieges and battles of six campaigns had claimed the lives of many thousands of Muslims. They died with the honor and spirit of martyrs; and the simplicity of their faith can be summed up in the words of a young Arabian man when he embraced his sister and mother for the last time: "It's not the fine foods of Syria, or the fading pleasures of this world, that have inspired me to devote my life to this cause. I'm seeking the favor of God and His messenger; and I’ve heard from one of the prophet's companions that the spirits of the martyrs will reside in the crops of green birds, who will enjoy the fruits and drink the waters of paradise. Goodbye, we’ll meet again in the gardens and fountains that God has prepared for His chosen ones." The faithful captives might show a quieter and tougher resolve; and a cousin of Muhammad is known for refusing, after three days of fasting, the wine and pork, the only food allowed by the malice of the infidels. The weakness of some of the less strong brothers fueled the relentless intensity of fanaticism; and the father of Amer lamented, sorrowfully, the apostasy and damnation of a son who had turned away from God's promises and the prophet's intercession to join the priests and deacons in the lowest levels of hell. The luckier Arabs, who survived the war and remained faithful, were kept in check by their disciplined leader to avoid the pitfalls of luxury. After a three-day rest, Abu Obeidah withdrew his troops from the corrupting excesses of Antioch and assured the caliph that their religion and virtue could only be maintained through the strict discipline of poverty and hard work. But while Omar's virtue was strict with himself, he was kind and generous to his followers. After offering a heartfelt tribute of praise and thanks, he shed a tear of sympathy; and sitting down on the ground, he wrote a response that gently criticized his lieutenant's harshness: "God," said the prophet's successor, "has not prohibited the good things of this world to faithful men who do good works. Therefore, you should have allowed them to rest and enjoy the good things the land offers. If any of the Saracens have no family in Arabia, they may marry in Syria; and anyone needing female slaves may purchase as many as they require." The conquerors prepared to take advantage of this generous allowance; but the year of their victory was marked by widespread illness among people and livestock; and twenty-five thousand Saracens were lost from Syria. Christians may have mourned Abu Obeidah's death; but his brothers remembered that he was one of the ten chosen ones whom the prophet had named as heirs to paradise. Caled outlived his brothers by about three years: and the tomb of the Sword of God is located near Emesa. His bravery, which established the caliphate's empire in Arabia and Syria, was bolstered by a belief in special providence; and as long as he wore a cap that had been blessed by Muhammad, he considered himself invulnerable against the attacks 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 Ommiyah; 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 splendor 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 neighborhood 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 æra, 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 harbor, 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.

The place of the first conquerors was taken over by a new generation of their children and fellow countrymen: Syria became the center and support of the Ommiyah dynasty; and the income, soldiers, and ships of that powerful kingdom were dedicated to expanding the empire of the caliphs on all fronts. However, the Saracens look down on excessive fame; their historians barely bother to mention the lesser conquests that are overshadowed by the brilliance and speed of their victorious journey. To the north of Syria, they crossed Mount Taurus and brought the province of Cilicia, along with its capital Tarsus, the ancient legacy of the Assyrian kings, under their control. Beyond another ridge of the same mountains, they spread war rather than the light of religion, reaching the shores of the Euxine and the vicinity of Constantinople. To the east, they moved to the banks and sources of the Euphrates and Tigris rivers: the long-contested barrier between Rome and Persia was permanently erased; the walls of Edessa, Amida, Dara, and Nisibis, which had withstood the attacks of Sapor or Nushirvan, were crushed to the ground; and the holy city of Abgarus could only futilely present the letter or image of Christ to an unbelieving conqueror. To the west, the Syrian kingdom is bordered by the sea, and the destruction of Aradus, a small island or peninsula on the coast, was delayed for ten years. Yet, the hills of Libanus were rich in timber; Phoenicia had a bustling trade with many sailors; and a fleet of seventeen hundred ships was built and manned by the desert inhabitants. The Roman Imperial navy retreated before them from the Pamphylian cliffs to the Hellespont; however, the spirit of the emperor, a grandson of Heraclius, was broken before the battle by a dream and a pun. The Saracens dominated the sea; and the islands of Cyprus, Rhodes, and the Cyclades were successively subjected to their greedy raids. Three hundred years before the Christian era, the notable but unsuccessful siege of Rhodes by Demetrius had provided that maritime republic with the materials and subject for a trophy. A gigantic statue of Apollo, or the sun, standing seventy cubits high, was erected at the entrance of the harbor, a symbol of the freedom and culture of Greece. After standing for fifty-six years, the Colossus of Rhodes was toppled by an earthquake; but the massive trunk and huge fragments remained scattered for eight centuries and are often described as one of the wonders of the ancient world. They were collected by the Saracens and sold to a Jewish merchant from Edessa, who allegedly loaded nine hundred camels with the weight of the bronze; an enormous load, especially when including the hundred colossal figures and the three thousand statues that showcased the wealth of the city of the sun.

III. 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 Amrou was at once base and illustrious; his mother, a notorious prostitute, was unable to decide among five of the Koreish; but the proof of resemblance adjudged the child to Aasi, the oldest of her lovers. The youth of Amrou was impelled by the passions and prejudices of his kindred: his poetic genius was exercised in satirical verses against the person and doctrine of Mahomet; his dexterity was employed by the reigning faction to pursue the religious exiles who had taken refuge in the court of the Æthiopian king. Yet he returned from this embassy a secret proselyte; his reason or his interest determined him to renounce the worship of idols; he escaped from Mecca with his friend Caled; and the prophet of Medina enjoyed at the same moment the satisfaction of embracing the two firmest champions of his cause. The impatience of Amrou to lead the armies of the faithful was checked by the reproof of Omar, who advised him not to seek power and dominion, since he who is a subject to-day, may be a prince to-morrow. Yet his merit was not overlooked by the two first successors of Mahomet; 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 valor of an adventurous soldier. In a visit to Medina, the caliph expressed a wish to survey the sword which had cut down so many Christian warriors; the son of Aasi unsheathed a short and ordinary cimeter; and as he perceived the surprise of Omar, "Alas," said the modest Saracen, "the sword itself, without the arm of its master, is neither sharper nor more weighty than the sword of Pharezdak the poet." After the conquest of Egypt, he was recalled by the jealousy of the caliph Othman; but in the subsequent troubles, the ambition of a soldier, a statesman, and an orator, emerged from a private station. His powerful support, both in council and in the field, established the throne of the Ommiades; the administration and revenue of Egypt were restored by the gratitude of Moawiyah to a faithful friend who had raised himself above the rank of a subject; and Amrou ended his days in the palace and city which he had founded on the banks of the Nile. His dying speech to his children is celebrated by the Arabians as a model of eloquence and wisdom: he deplored the errors of his youth but if the penitent was still infected by the vanity of a poet, he might exaggerate the venom and mischief of his impious compositions.

III. The conquest of Egypt can be understood through the character of the victorious Saracen, one of the first from his nation, in a time when even the least among his peers was uplifted by a spirit of enthusiasm. Amrou was born into both a lowly and noble background; his mother, a well-known prostitute, couldn't determine which of five Koreish men was the father, but through resemblance, the child was claimed by Aasi, the oldest of her lovers. In his youth, Amrou was driven by the passions and biases of his family: his poetic talent was channeled into satirical verses mocking Mahomet and his teachings; his skills were used by the ruling faction to track down religious exiles who had sought refuge in the court of the Ethiopian king. However, he returned from this mission as a secret convert; whether by reason or interest, he chose to abandon idol worship; he escaped from Mecca with his friend Caled, and at the same time, the prophet of Medina was pleased to welcome the two strongest supporters of his cause. Amrou's eagerness to lead the armies of the faithful was tempered by Omar's admonition, who told him not to pursue power and rule, as someone who is a subject today could be a prince tomorrow. Yet, his abilities did not go unnoticed by the first two successors of Mahomet; they relied on his military prowess to secure the conquest of Palestine, and in all the battles and sieges in Syria, he combined the temperament of a leader with the bravery of an adventurous soldier. During a visit to Medina, the caliph expressed a desire to see the sword that had felled so many Christian warriors; Amrou, son of Aasi, drew a short and common scimitar, and upon seeing Omar's surprise, he said, "Alas, the sword itself, without the strength of its master, is no sharper or heavier than the sword of the poet Pharezdak." After the conquest of Egypt, he was called back due to the jealousy of caliph Othman; but during later troubles, the ambition of a soldier, a statesman, and a speaker brought him back from private life. His strong support, both in discussions and on the battlefield, helped establish the Ommiade throne; Moawiyah, grateful to a loyal friend who had risen above the status of a subject, restored the administration and revenues of Egypt to him; and Amrou spent his final days in the palace and city he had founded by the Nile. His last words to his children are celebrated by Arabs as epitomes of eloquence and wisdom: he lamented the mistakes of his youth, but if the remorseful still carried the vanity of a poet, he might have exaggerated the harmfulness and wickedness of his impious writings.

From his camp in Palestine, Amrou 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. The pride and the greatness of Pharaoh were familiar to the readers of the Koran; and a tenfold repetition of prodigies had been scarcely sufficient to effect, not the victory, but the flight, of six hundred thousand of the children of Israel: the cities of Egypt were many and populous; their architecture was strong and solid; the Nile, with its numerous branches, was alone an insuperable barrier; and the granary of the Imperial city would be obstinately defended by the Roman powers. In this perplexity, the commander of the faithful resigned himself to the decision of chance, or, in his opinion, of Providence. At the head of only four thousand Arabs, the intrepid Amrou 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 succor of God and of your brethren." The experience, perhaps the secret intelligence, of Amrou 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 neighborhood of the modern Cairo.

From his camp in Palestine, Amrou had either surprised or anticipated the caliph's decision to invade Egypt. The generous Omar had faith in his God and his sword, which had shaken the thrones of Chosroes and Caesar. But when he compared the small number of Moslems with the vastness of the task ahead, he regretted his own impulsiveness and listened to his nervous companions. The pride and might of Pharaoh were well-known to the readers of the Koran; and even a tenfold repetition of miracles had barely been enough to achieve not just victory, but even the escape of six hundred thousand of the children of Israel. The cities of Egypt were many and densely populated; their buildings were strong and sturdy; the Nile, with its numerous branches, was already an unbeatable barrier; and the granary of the Imperial city would be fiercely defended by the Roman forces. In this dilemma, the commander of the faithful resigned himself to fate, or, as he saw it, Providence. Leading only four thousand Arabs, the fearless Amrou had set off from his camp at Gaza when he was caught up with by a messenger from Omar. “If you are still in Syria,” said the vague order, “retreat without delay; but if, when you receive this letter, you have already reached the borders of Egypt, move forward with confidence, and trust in the support of God and your fellow soldiers.” Amrou’s experience, and possibly secret information, had taught him to be wary of the unpredictability of courts; so he continued his march until his tents were undoubtedly pitched on Egyptian soil. He gathered his officers there, broke the seal, read the letter, soberly asked about the name and location of the place, and declared his full obedience to the caliph's orders. After a siege of thirty days, he took control of Farmah, or Pelusium; and that crucial point in Egypt, as it has rightly been called, opened the way into the country as far as the ruins of Heliopolis and the area around 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, one hundred and fifty furlongs in circumference, displayed the magnificence of ancient kings. Under the reign of the Ptolemies and Cæsars, the seat of government was removed to the sea-coast; the ancient capital was eclipsed by the arts and opulence of Alexandria; the palaces, and at length the temples, were reduced to a desolate and ruinous condition: yet, in the age of Augustus, and even in that of Constantine, Memphis was still numbered among the greatest and most populous of the provincial cities. The banks of the Nile, in this place of the breadth of three thousand feet, were united by two bridges of sixty and of thirty boats, connected in the middle stream by the small island of Rouda, which was covered with gardens and habitations. The eastern extremity of the bridge was terminated by the town of Babylon and the camp of a Roman legion, which protected the passage of the river and the second capital of Egypt. This important fortress, which might fairly be described as a part of Memphis or Misrah, was invested by the arms of the lieutenant of Omar: a reënforcement of four thousand Saracens soon arrived in his camp; and the military engines, which battered the walls, may be imputed to the art and labor of his Syrian allies. Yet 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 mosch was blessed by the presence of fourscore companions of Mahomet. A new city arose in their camp, on the eastward bank of the Nile; and the contiguous quarters of Babylon and Fostat are confounded in their present decay by the appellation of old Misrah, or Cairo, of which they form an extensive suburb. 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 to those of Saladin.

On the western side of the Nile, just east of the Pyramids and south of the Delta, Memphis, which was about one hundred and fifty furlongs around, showcased the grandeur of ancient kings. During the time of the Ptolemies and Caesars, the government was moved to the coast, and the old capital was overshadowed by the culture and wealth of Alexandria. The palaces, and eventually the temples, fell into a state of neglect and ruin. However, even during the era of Augustus and Constantine, Memphis was still considered one of the largest and most populated provincial cities. The Nile banks here, three thousand feet wide, were connected by two bridges made of sixty and thirty boats, linked in the middle by the small island of Rouda, which was full of gardens and homes. The eastern end of the bridge led to the town of Babylon and a Roman legion camp, which guarded the river crossing and the second capital of Egypt. This significant fortress, which could rightly be seen as part of Memphis or Misrah, was besieged by the lieutenant of Omar. A reinforcement of four thousand Saracens quickly joined his camp, and the military engines that breached the walls were the work of his Syrian allies. The siege lasted seven months, and the bold invaders were threatened by the rising Nile waters. Their final attack was daring and successful: they crossed the ditch fortified with iron spikes, used their scaling ladders, entered the fortress with the cry of "God is victorious!" and forced the remaining Greeks to retreat to their boats and the Isle of Rouda. The site was later favored by the conqueror due to its easy access to the gulf and the Arabian peninsula; the ruins of Memphis were abandoned; the tents of the Arabs turned into permanent homes; and the first mosque was graced by eighty companions of Muhammad. A new city emerged in their camp on the eastern bank of the Nile, and the nearby areas of Babylon and Fostat now blend together in their current decay, called old Misrah or Cairo, which forms a large suburb. However, the name Cairo, meaning the town of victory, more accurately refers to the modern capital founded in the tenth century by the Fatimite caliphs. It has gradually moved away from the river, but a careful observer can trace the line of buildings from the monuments of Sesostris to those of Saladin.

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 rapid conquest of Alexander was assisted by the superstition and revolt of the natives: they abhorred their Persian oppressors, the disciples of the Magi, who had burnt the temples of Egypt, and feasted with sacrilegious appetite on the flesh of the god Apis. After a period of ten centuries, the same revolution was renewed by a similar cause; and in the support of an incomprehensible creed, the zeal of the Coptic Christians was equally ardent. I have already explained the origin and progress of the Monophysite controversy, and the persecution of the emperors, which 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 Mokawkas, 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 Mahomet ranked him among princes; but he declined, with rich gifts and ambiguous compliments, the proposal of a new religion. The abuse of his trust exposed him to the resentment of Heraclius: his submission was delayed by arrogance and fear; and his conscience was prompted by interest to throw himself on the favor of the nation and the support of the Saracens. In his first conference with Amrou, he heard without indignation the usual option of the Koran, the tribute, or the sword. "The Greeks," replied Mokawkas, "are determined to abide the determination of the sword; but with the Greeks I desire no communion, either in this world or in the next, and I abjure forever the Byzantine tyrant, his synod of Chalcedon, and his Melchite slaves. For myself and my brethren, we are resolved to live and die in the profession of the gospel and unity of Christ. It is impossible for us to embrace the revelations of your prophet; but we are desirous of peace, and cheerfully submit 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: the Copts above and below Memphis swore allegiance to the caliph, and promised a hospitable entertainment of three days to every Mussulman who should travel through their country. By this charter of security, the ecclesiastical and civil tyranny of the Melchites was destroyed: the anathemas of St. Cyril were thundered from every pulpit; and the sacred edifices, with the patrimony of the church, were restored to the national communion of the Jacobites, who enjoyed without moderation the moment of triumph and revenge. At the pressing summons of Amrou, 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 intrusted 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.

Yet the Arabs, after a successful and rewarding campaign, would have retreated to the desert if they hadn't found a strong alliance in the heart of the country. The swift conquest of Alexander was aided by the superstition and rebellion of the locals: they despised their Persian oppressors, the followers of the Magi, who had burned the temples of Egypt and feasted with sacrilegious greed on the flesh of the god Apis. After ten centuries, a similar revolution was sparked by the same reasons; and with the support of an unfathomable faith, the enthusiasm of the Coptic Christians was equally fierce. I have already detailed the origins and development of the Monophysite controversy and the emperors' persecution, which turned a sect into a nation and separated Egypt from their religion and government. The Saracens were welcomed as the liberators of the Jacobite church; and a secret and effective agreement was made during the siege of Memphis between a victorious army and a group of enslaved people. A wealthy and noble Egyptian named Mokawkas hid his faith to gain control of his province: in the chaos of the Persian war, he sought independence; Mahomet’s embassy regarded him as a prince, but he declined, with generous gifts and vague compliments, the proposal of a new religion. His abuse of power led to resentment from Heraclius: his submission was delayed by pride and fear; and his conscience, driven by self-interest, urged him to seek the favor of the people and the support of the Saracens. In his first meeting with Amrou, he listened without anger to the usual choices of the Koran: the tribute or the sword. "The Greeks," Mokawkas replied, "are ready to meet the sword; but I have no desire to associate with the Greeks, in this life or the next, and I reject forever the Byzantine tyrant, his council of Chalcedon, and his Melchite followers. My brethren and I are determined to live and die in adherence to the gospel and the unity of Christ. It's impossible for us to accept the revelations of your prophet; however, we are eager for peace and willingly agree to pay tribute and obey his earthly successors." The tribute was set at two pieces of gold for each Christian; but elderly men, monks, women, and children under sixteen were exempt from this tax: the Copts in and around Memphis pledged allegiance to the caliph and promised a welcome of three days to any Muslim traveling through their land. This charter of security ended the ecclesiastical and civil oppression of the Melchites: the anathemas of St. Cyril echoed from every pulpit; and the sacred buildings, along with the church's assets, were returned to the national communion of the Jacobites, who indulged without restraint in their moment of triumph and revenge. At Amrou's urgent request, their patriarch Benjamin came out of his desert; and after their initial meeting, the polite Arab pretended to declare that he had never spoken with a Christian priest who was more innocent in behavior and more dignified in appearance. While marching from Memphis to Alexandria, Omar's lieutenant relied on the eagerness and gratitude of the Egyptians for his safety: the roads and bridges were diligently repaired; and at every point in his journey, he could count on a consistent supply of food and information. The Greeks in Egypt, whose numbers were barely a tenth of the locals, were overwhelmed by the widespread defection: they had always been hated, and they were no longer feared: the magistrate fled from his court, the bishop from his altar; and distant garrisons were either surprised or starved by the surrounding masses. If not for the Nile providing a safe and quick route to the sea, no one connected to their despised name—by birth, language, position, or religion—could have escaped.

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 harbor to save the second capital of the empire. A circumference of ten miles would have scattered the forces of the Greeks, and favored the stratagems of an active enemy; but the two sides of an oblong square were covered by the sea and the Lake Maræotis, and each of the narrow ends exposed a front of no more than ten furlongs. The efforts of the Arabs were not inadequate to the difficulty of the attempt and the value of the prize. From the throne of Medina, the eyes of Omar were fixed on the camp and city: his voice excited to arms the Arabian tribes and the veterans of Syria; and the merit of a holy war was recommended by the peculiar fame and fertility of Egypt. Anxious for the ruin or expulsion of their tyrants, the faithful natives devoted their labors to the service of Amrou: some sparks of martial spirit were perhaps rekindled by the example of their allies; and the sanguine hopes of Mokawkas had fixed his sepulchre in the church of St. John of Alexandria. Eutychius the patriarch observes, that the Saracens fought with the courage of lions: they repulsed the frequent and almost daily sallies of the besieged, and soon assaulted in their turn the walls and towers of the city. In every attack, the sword, the banner of Amrou, glittered in the van of the Moslems. On a memorable day, he was betrayed by his imprudent valor: his followers who had entered the citadel were driven back; and the general, with a friend and slave, remained a prisoner in the hands of the Christians. When Amrou was conducted before the præfect, he remembered his dignity, and forgot his situation: a lofty demeanor, 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 Greeks embarked their dispirited and diminished numbers, and the standard of Mahomet was planted on the walls of the capital of Egypt. "I have taken," said Amrou to the caliph, "the great city of the West. It is impossible for me to enumerate the variety of its riches and beauty; and I shall content myself with observing, that it contains four thousand palaces, four thousand baths, four hundred theatres or places of amusement, twelve thousand shops for the sale of vegetable food, and forty thousand tributary Jews. The town has been subdued by force of arms, without treaty or capitulation, and the Moslems are impatient to seize the fruits of their victory." 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. Under the minority of his grandson, the clamors 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 harbor and fortifications of Alexandria were twice occupied by a fleet and army of Romans. They were twice expelled by the valor of Amrou, who was recalled by the domestic peril from the distant wars of Tripoli 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 was spared in the chastisement of the city, and the mosch of Mercy was erected on the spot where the victorious general had stopped the fury of his troops.

By the retreat of the Greeks from Upper Egypt, a significant force gathered on the Island of Delta; the natural and artificial channels of the Nile provided a series of strong and defensible positions. The road to Alexandria was painstakingly cleared thanks to the Saracens' victory over twenty-two days of continuous fighting. In their history of conquests, the siege of Alexandria stands out as one of the most challenging and crucial endeavors. The world's leading trading city was well-supplied with resources for sustenance and defense. Its many residents were fighting for their most valued rights: their religion and property; and the local population's hostility seemed to bar them from the general benefits of peace and tolerance. The sea was constantly open, and if Heraclius had been aware of the public's distress, fresh armies of Romans and Barbarians could have been brought into the harbor to rescue the empire’s second capital. A ten-mile radius could have scattered the Greek forces, benefiting an active enemy; however, the long sides of an oblong rectangle were protected by the sea and Lake Maræotis, while each narrow end presented a front of only about ten furlongs. The efforts of the Arabs were well-matched to the challenge of the task and the value of the prize. From his throne in Medina, Omar had his eyes set on the camp and city; his voice rallied the Arabian tribes and the seasoned fighters of Syria; and the idea of a holy war was made more appealing by Egypt’s unique fame and lushness. Eager for the downfall or departure of their oppressors, the loyal locals dedicated their efforts to Amrou; some sparks of martial spirit may have been reignited by their allies' example. Mokawkas's optimistic hopes had already envisioned his burial place in the Church of St. John of Alexandria. Eutychius, the patriarch, noted that the Saracens fought with the heart of lions: they repelled the frequent and almost daily attacks from the besieged and soon began their own assaults on the city's walls and towers. In every charge, the sword and banner of Amrou shone at the forefront of the Muslims. On a significant day, Amrou's reckless bravery led to his betrayal: his followers who had entered the citadel were driven back, leaving the general, along with a friend and a slave, as prisoners in the Christians' hands. When Amrou was brought before the prefect, he remembered his dignity and ignored his predicament: his proud demeanor and determined words revealed him as the lieutenant of the caliph, and the battle-axe of a soldier was already raised to take the life of the daring captive. His life was spared by his quick-thinking slave, who instantly struck his master in the face and angrily ordered him to be silent in front of his superiors. The gullible Greek was misled: he entertained the offer of a treaty, and his prisoners were sent away with the hope of a more respectable diplomatic mission, until the jubilant cheers from the camp announced their general’s return, mocking the infidels' folly. Finally, after a fourteen-month siege and the loss of twenty-three thousand men, the Saracens triumphed: the Greeks abandoned their dispirited and diminished troops, and the flag of Mohammed was raised on the walls of the capital of Egypt. "I have taken," Amrou told the caliph, "the great city of the West. I can’t possibly list all its riches and beauty; I will simply note that it contains four thousand palaces, four thousand baths, four hundred theaters or entertainment venues, twelve thousand shops selling food, and forty thousand tribute-paying Jews. The city has been captured by force of arms, without any treaties or agreements, and the Muslims are eager to claim the benefits of their victory." The commander of the faithful firmly dismissed the idea of looting and directed his lieutenant to allocate Alexandria's wealth and revenues for public service and spreading the faith: the inhabitants were counted; a tribute was imposed, the zeal and resentment of the Jacobites were restrained, and the Melchites who accepted the Arabian rule were allowed the quiet and private practice of their worship. The news of this shameful and disastrous event greatly impacted the declining health of the emperor, leading to Heraclius' death from dropsy about seven weeks after Alexandria fell. During the minority of his grandson, the cries of a population deprived of daily food forced the Byzantine court to attempt to regain control of the capital of Egypt. In the span of four years, the harbor and fortifications of Alexandria were occupied twice by a fleet and army of Romans. They were twice ousted by Amrou's valor, who was recalled from distant wars in Tripoli and Nubia due to domestic threats. Yet the ease of that endeavor, the repeated insults, and the stubborn resistance compelled him to vow that if he drove the infidels back into the sea a third time, he would make Alexandria as open on all sides as the house of a prostitute. True to his word, he dismantled several sections of the walls and towers; however, the people were spared during the city's punishment, and the mosque of Mercy was built where the victorious general halted his troops' wrath.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part VII.

I should deceive the expectation of the reader, if I passed in silence the fate of the Alexandrian library, as it is described by the learned Abulpharagius. The spirit of Amrou 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. Amrou 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 were barely sufficient for the consumption of this precious fuel. Since the Dynasties of Abulpharagius 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 my own part, I am 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 annalist 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 Mahometan 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 Mahomet; yet in this instance, the conflagration would have speedily expired in the deficiency of materials. I should 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. But if we gradually descend from the 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. I sincerely regret the more valuable libraries which have been involved in the ruin of the Roman empire; but when I seriously compute the lapse of ages, the waste of ignorance, and the calamities of war, our treasures, rather than our losses, are the objects of my 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.

I would be misleading the reader if I didn't mention the fate of the Alexandrian library as described by the learned Abulpharagius. Amrou was more curious and open-minded than his peers, and in his free time, he enjoyed discussions with John, the last disciple of Ammonius, who earned the nickname Philoponus for his diligent study of grammar and philosophy. Feeling comfortable in their conversations, Philoponus dared to ask for what he considered an invaluable gift, though the Barbarians found it worthless—the royal library, which was the only treasure from Alexandria that had not been taken by the conqueror. Amrou was willing to fulfill the grammarian's request, but his strong sense of integrity prevented him from giving away even the smallest item without the caliph's approval; Omar's infamous response was fueled by the ignorance of a zealot: "If these Greek writings agree with God's book, they are unnecessary and don't need to be kept; if they disagree, they are harmful and should be destroyed." This decree was followed blindly: the volumes of paper or parchment were sent to the city’s four thousand baths, and there were so many that it took six months to burn them all as fuel. Since the Dynasties of Abulpharagius have been published in Latin, the story has been retold many times, and every scholar, with righteous anger, has mourned the irreparable loss of ancient knowledge, arts, and genius. Personally, I'm tempted to doubt both the occurrence and the aftermath. The event is indeed remarkable. "Read and be amazed!" says the historian himself, and the lone account from a stranger writing six hundred years later on the borders of Media is outweighed by the silence of two earlier annalists, both Christians and Egyptians, the earliest of whom, patriarch Eutychius, thoroughly detailed the conquest of Alexandria. Omar's harsh decree contradicts the well-reasoned and orthodox teachings of Islamic scholars, who clearly state that the religious texts of Jews and Christians acquired through war should never be burned, and that works of secular knowledge—historians, poets, doctors, or philosophers—can be lawfully used by the faithful. A more destructive zeal could perhaps be ascribed to Muhammad's early successors; yet in this case, the fire would have quickly died out from a lack of materials. I won’t recount the disasters that befell the Alexandrian library, including the accidental fire set by Caesar while defending himself, or the destructive fanaticism of Christians seeking to erase idolatrous monuments. However, as we move from the age of the Antonines to that of Theodosius, we learn from various contemporary witnesses that the royal palace and the temple of Serapis no longer housed the four or seven hundred thousand volumes amassed by the curiosity and grandeur of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and the patriarchs' seat might have held a collection of books, but if the heavy debates over Arian and Monophysite issues really ended up being burned in public baths, then a philosopher might wryly concede that it ultimately benefited mankind. I genuinely lament the more valuable libraries lost in the fall of the Roman Empire; but upon serious reflection on the passage of time, the destruction wrought by ignorance, and the disasters of war, I find our remaining treasures, rather than our losses, to be astonishing. Many fascinating and significant facts are lost to history: the three great historians of Rome have come down to us in fragmented form, and we've been deprived of many delightful works of Greek lyric, iambic, and dramatic poetry. Yet we should be grateful that time and chance have spared the classic works that antiquity deemed the pinnacle of genius and glory: the ancient scholars who came before us read and compared the writings of their predecessors; thus, it is reasonable to assume that no crucial truth or valuable discovery in art or nature has been taken from the curiosity of modern times.

In the administration of Egypt, Amrou balanced the demands of justice and policy; the interest of the people of the law, who were defended by God; and of the people of the alliance, who were protected by man. In the recent tumult of conquest and deliverance, the tongue of the Copts and the sword of the Arabs were most adverse to the tranquillity of the province. To the former, Amrou declared, that faction and falsehood would be doubly chastised; by the punishment of the accusers, whom he should detest as his personal enemies, and by the promotion of their innocent brethren, whom their envy had labored to injure and supplant. He excited the latter by the motives of religion and honor to sustain the dignity of their character, to endear themselves by a modest and temperate conduct to God and the caliph, to spare and protect a people who had trusted to their faith, and to content themselves with the legitimate and splendid rewards of their victory. 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 his 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 Amrou 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 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.

In Egypt's administration, Amrou balanced the needs of justice and policy; the interests of the law's followers, who were supported by God; and the interests of the allies, who were protected by humanity. In the recent chaos of conquest and liberation, the words of the Copts and the swords of the Arabs were both a threat to the peace of the region. To the former, Amrou declared that faction and deceit would be punished twice: by punishing the accusers, whom he viewed as his personal foes, and by promoting their innocent brothers, whom envy had tried to harm and replace. He motivated the latter with religion and honor to uphold their dignity, to earn God's and the caliph's favor through modest and restrained behavior, to spare and protect a people who had trusted them, and to be satisfied with the rightful and impressive rewards of their victory. In managing revenue, he rejected the simple but burdensome capitation tax and wisely preferred a percentage of taxes taken from the net profits of agriculture and commerce. A third of the tribute was set aside for annual repairs of the dikes and canals, crucial for public welfare. Under his leadership, Egypt’s fertility helped alleviate the scarcity in Arabia, and a line of camels loaded with grain and supplies continuously traveled the long route from Memphis to Medina. But Amrou's ingenuity soon revived the sea trade routes that had been attempted or achieved by the Pharaohs, Ptolemies, or Caesars, and a canal at least eighty miles long was dug from the Nile to the Red Sea. This inland navigation, intended to connect the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean, was soon halted as impractical and dangerous: the capital moved from Medina to Damascus, and Grecian fleets could have explored a route to Arabia's holy cities.

Of his new conquest, the caliph Omar had an imperfect knowledge from the voice of fame and the legends of the Koran. He requested that his lieutenant would place before his eyes the realm of Pharaoh and the Amalekites; and the answer of Amrou exhibits a lively and not unfaithful picture of that singular country. "O commander of the faithful, Egypt is a compound of black earth and green plants, between a pulverized mountain and a red sand. The distance from Syene to the sea is a month's journey for a horseman. Along the valley descends a river, on which the blessing of the Most High reposes both in the evening and morning, and which rises and falls with the revolutions of the sun and moon. When the annual dispensation of Providence unlocks the springs and fountains that nourish the earth, the Nile rolls his swelling and sounding waters through the realm of Egypt: the fields are overspread by the salutary flood; and the villages communicate with each other in their painted barks. The retreat of the inundation deposits a fertilizing mud for the reception of the various seeds: the crowds of husbandmen who blacken the land may be compared to a swarm of industrious ants; and their native indolence is quickened by the lash of the task-master, and the promise of the flowers and fruits of a plentiful increase. Their hope is seldom deceived; but the riches which they extract from the wheat, the barley, and the rice, the legumes, the fruit-trees, and the cattle, are unequally shared between those who labor and those who possess. According to the vicissitudes of the seasons, the face of the country is adorned with a silver wave, a verdant emerald, and the deep yellow of a golden harvest." Yet this beneficial order is sometimes interrupted; and the long delay and sudden swell of the river in the first year of the conquest might afford some color to an edifying fable. It is said, that the annual sacrifice of a virgin had been interdicted by the piety of Omar; and that the Nile lay sullen and inactive in his shallow bed, till the mandate of the caliph was cast into the obedient stream, which rose in a single night to the height of sixteen cubits. The admiration of the Arabs for their new conquest encouraged the license of their romantic spirit. We may read, in the gravest authors, that Egypt was crowded with twenty thousand cities or villages: that, exclusive of the Greeks and Arabs, the Copts alone were found, on the assessment, six millions of tributary subjects, or twenty millions of either sex, and of every age: that three hundred millions of gold or silver were annually paid to the treasury of the caliphs. Our reason must be startled by these extravagant assertions; and they will become more palpable, if we assume the compass and measure the extent of habitable ground: a valley from the tropic to Memphis seldom broader than twelve miles, and the triangle of the Delta, a flat surface of two thousand one hundred square leagues, compose a twelfth part of the magnitude of France. A more accurate research will justify a more reasonable estimate. The three hundred millions, created by the error of a scribe, are reduced to the decent revenue of four millions three hundred thousand pieces of gold, of which nine hundred thousand were consumed by the pay of the soldiers. Two authentic lists, of the present and of the twelfth century, are circumscribed within the respectable number of two thousand seven hundred villages and towns. After a long residence at Cairo, a French consul has ventured to assign about four millions of Mahometans, Christians, and Jews, for the ample, though not incredible, scope of the population of Egypt.

Of his new conquest, Caliph Omar had an imperfect understanding from the tales of fame and the legends of the Koran. He asked his lieutenant to show him the land of Pharaoh and the Amalekites; Amrou's response provides a vivid and fairly accurate picture of that unique country. "O commander of the faithful, Egypt is a mix of dark soil and green plants, nestled between a dusty mountain and red sand. The journey from Syene to the sea takes a month for a horseman. A river flows through the valley, blessed by the Most High both in the evening and morning, rising and falling with the cycles of the sun and moon. When the annual flow of Providence opens up the springs and fountains that nourish the earth, the Nile carries its swelling, roaring waters through Egypt: the fields are covered by the life-giving flood; and the villages connect with each other through their painted boats. The retreat of the flood leaves behind fertilizing mud perfect for planting all kinds of seeds: the throngs of farmers blackening the land can be likened to a swarm of busy ants; their natural laziness is spurred on by the whip of the overseer and the promise of the flowers and fruit from a bountiful harvest. Their hopes are rarely disappointed; however, the wealth they reap from wheat, barley, rice, legumes, fruit trees, and livestock is unevenly distributed between those who toil and those who own. According to the changing seasons, the landscape is dressed in a shimmering silver wave, a lush emerald, and the deep yellow of a golden harvest." Yet, this beneficial cycle is sometimes disrupted; and the long delay and sudden rise of the river in the first year of the conquest could lend some credibility to a cautionary tale. It is said that the annual sacrifice of a virgin had been banned by the piety of Omar; and that the Nile lay gloomy and dormant in its shallow bed until the caliph's decree was thrown into the obedient waters, which rose overnight to sixteen cubits high. The admiration of the Arabs for their new conquest fueled their romantic imagination. In the most serious texts, it is noted that Egypt was filled with twenty thousand cities or villages: that, not counting the Greeks and Arabs, the Copts alone were counted at six million tributary subjects, or twenty million of all genders and ages: that three hundred million gold or silver coins were paid annually into the treasury of the caliphs. Such extravagant claims should astonish our reason; and they become clearer if we consider the size and measure the area of habitable land: a valley stretching from the tropics to Memphis is seldom wider than twelve miles, and the triangle of the Delta, a flat expanse of two thousand one hundred square leagues, makes up just one-twelfth the size of France. A more thorough investigation will support a more realistic assessment. The three hundred million, born from a scribe's mistake, are reduced to a more modest income of four million three hundred thousand gold coins, of which nine hundred thousand were used for soldier wages. Two reliable lists, from the present and the twelfth century, are limited to a respectable count of two thousand seven hundred villages and towns. After a long stay in Cairo, a French consul has estimated about four million Muslims, Christians, and Jews as a plausible, even conservative, estimate of Egypt's population.

IV. The conquest of Africa, from the Nile to the Atlantic Ocean, was first attempted by the arms of the caliph Othman. The pious design was approved by the companions of Mahomet and the chiefs of the tribes; and twenty thousand Arabs marched from Medina, with the gifts and the blessing of the commander of the faithful. They were joined in the camp of Memphis by twenty thousand of their countrymen; and the conduct of the war was intrusted to Abdallah, the son of Said and the foster-brother of the caliph, who had lately supplanted the conqueror and lieutenant of Egypt. Yet the favor of the prince, and the merit of his favorite, could not obliterate the guilt of his apostasy. The early conversion of Abdallah, and his skilful pen, had recommended him to the important office of transcribing the sheets of the Koran: he betrayed his trust, corrupted the text, derided the errors which he had made, and fled to Mecca to escape the justice, and expose the ignorance, of the apostle. After the conquest of Mecca, he fell prostrate at the feet of Mahomet; his tears, and the entreaties of Othman, extorted a reluctant pardon; but the prophet declared that he had so long hesitated, to allow time for some zealous disciple to avenge his injury in the blood of the apostate. With apparent fidelity and effective merit, he served the religion which it was no longer his interest to desert: his birth and talents gave him an honorable rank among the Koreish; and, in a nation of cavalry, Abdallah was renowned as the boldest and most dexterous horseman of Arabia. At the head of forty thousand Moslems, he advanced from Egypt into the unknown countries of the West. The sands of Barca might be impervious to a Roman legion but the Arabs were attended by their faithful camels; and the natives of the desert beheld without terror the familiar aspect of the soil and climate. After a painful march, they pitched their tents before the walls of Tripoli, a maritime city in which the name, the wealth, and the inhabitants of the province had gradually centred, and which now maintains the third rank among the states of Barbary. A reënforcement of Greeks was surprised and cut in pieces on the sea-shore; but the fortifications of Tripoli resisted the first assaults; and the Saracens were tempted by the approach of the præfect Gregory to relinquish the labors of the siege for the perils and the hopes of a decisive action. If his standard was followed by one hundred and twenty thousand men, the regular bands of the empire must have been lost in the naked and disorderly crowd of Africans and Moors, who formed the strength, or rather the numbers, of his host. He rejected with indignation the option of the Koran or the tribute; and during several days the two armies were fiercely engaged from the dawn of light to the hour of noon, when their fatigue and the excessive heat compelled them to seek shelter and refreshment in their respective camps. The daughter of Gregory, a maid of incomparable beauty and spirit, is said to have fought by his side: from her earliest youth she was trained to mount on horseback, to draw the bow, and to wield the cimeter; and the richness of her arms and apparel were conspicuous in the foremost ranks of the battle. Her hand, with a hundred thousand pieces of gold, was offered for the head of the Arabian general, and the youths of Africa were excited by the prospect of the glorious prize. At the pressing solicitation of his brethren, Abdallah withdrew his person from the field; but the Saracens were discouraged by the retreat of their leader, and the repetition of these equal or unsuccessful conflicts.

IV. The conquest of Africa, stretching from the Nile to the Atlantic Ocean, was first attempted by Caliph Othman. His noble mission was supported by the companions of Muhammad and the tribal leaders; twenty thousand Arabs marched from Medina, bearing the gifts and blessings of the commander of the faithful. In the camp of Memphis, they were joined by another twenty thousand fellow countrymen, and the responsibility of leading the war was given to Abdallah, the son of Said and the caliph's foster-brother, who had recently replaced the former conqueror and lieutenant of Egypt. However, the caliph's favor and Abdallah's skills couldn't erase the stain of his betrayal. Abdallah’s early conversion and his talent for writing had made him the important role of transcribing the Koran, but he abused that trust, distorted the text, mocked his mistakes, and fled to Mecca to escape punishment and reveal the prophet's ignorance. After the conquest of Mecca, he threw himself at Muhammad's feet; his tears and Othman's pleas yielded a reluctant forgiveness, but the prophet declared that he had hesitated so long to give a devoted disciple a chance to avenge his wrong with the blood of the traitor. With apparent loyalty and real talent, he served the religion he no longer found beneficial to abandon; his noble birth and abilities granted him a distinguished place among the Koreish, and in a horse-riding nation, Abdallah was renowned as the boldest and most skilled horseman in Arabia. Leading forty thousand Muslims, he moved from Egypt into the unknown western lands. The sands of Barca might be impenetrable to a Roman legion, but the Arabs had their loyal camels, and the desert natives were unafraid of the familiar landscape. After a difficult march, they set up their tents outside the walls of Tripoli, a coastal city where the province’s name, wealth, and people had gradually come together and which now holds the third position among the states of Barbary. A group of Greeks was ambushed and slaughtered on the shoreline, but the defenses of Tripoli held against the initial assaults; the Saracens were tempted to abandon the siege for the dangers and possibilities of a decisive battle as Prefect Gregory approached. While his standard was followed by one hundred and twenty thousand men, the regular troops of the empire likely got lost in the disorganized and unarmed crowd of Africans and Moors that made up the bulk of his forces. He angrily rejected the choice of converting to Islam or paying tribute; for several days, the two armies fiercely clashed from dawn until noon, when their exhaustion and the intense heat forced them to seek shelter and refreshment in their respective camps. It is said that Gregory's daughter, an exceptionally beautiful and spirited young woman, fought beside him: from her early childhood, she had been trained to ride horseback, shoot a bow, and wield a sword; her elaborate armor and attire were prominent among the front lines of battle. A reward of one hundred thousand gold pieces was offered for the head of the Arabian general, igniting the excitement of the youth of Africa at the chance of such a glorious prize. At the urgent request of his relatives, Abdallah withdrew from the battlefield; however, the Saracens were disheartened by their leader's retreat and the continuation of these matched or unsuccessful confrontations.

A noble Arabian, who afterwards became the adversary of Ali, and the father of a caliph, had signalized his valor in Egypt, and Zobeir was the first who planted the scaling-ladder against the walls of Babylon. In the African war he was detached from the standard of Abdallah. On the news of the battle, Zobeir, with twelve companions, cut his way through the camp of the Greeks, and pressed forwards, without tasting either food or repose, to partake of the dangers of his brethren. He cast his eyes round the field: "Where," said he, "is our general?" "In his tent." "Is the tent a station for the general of the Moslems?" Abdallah represented with a blush the importance of his own life, and the temptation that was held forth by the Roman præfect. "Retort," said Zobeir, "on the infidels their ungenerous attempt. Proclaim through the ranks that the head of Gregory shall be repaid with his captive daughter, and the equal sum of one hundred thousand pieces of gold." To the courage and discretion of Zobeir the lieutenant of the caliph intrusted the execution of his own stratagem, which inclined the long-disputed balance in favor of the Saracens. Supplying by activity and artifice the deficiency of numbers, a part of their forces lay concealed in their tents, while the remainder prolonged an irregular skirmish with the enemy till the sun was high in the heavens. On both sides they retired with fainting steps: their horses were unbridled, their armor was laid aside, and the hostile nations prepared, or seemed to prepare, for the refreshment of the evening, and the encounter of the ensuing day. On a sudden the charge was sounded; the Arabian camp poured forth a swarm of fresh and intrepid warriors; and the long line of the Greeks and Africans was surprised, assaulted, overturned, by new squadrons of the faithful, who, to the eye of fanaticism, might appear as a band of angels descending from the sky. The præfect himself was slain by the hand of Zobeir: his daughter, who sought revenge and death, was surrounded and made prisoner; and the fugitives involved in their disaster the town of Sufetula, to which they escaped from the sabres and lances of the Arabs. Sufetula was built one hundred and fifty miles to the south of Carthage: a gentle declivity is watered by a running stream, and shaded by a grove of juniper-trees; and, in the ruins of a triumphal arch, a portico, and three temples of the Corinthian order, curiosity may yet admire the magnificence of the Romans. After the fall of this opulent city, the provincials and Barbarians implored on all sides the mercy of the conqueror. His vanity or his zeal might be flattered by offers of tribute or professions of faith: but his losses, his fatigues, and the progress of an epidemical disease, prevented a solid establishment; and the Saracens, after a campaign of fifteen months, retreated to the confines of Egypt, with the captives and the wealth of their African expedition. The caliph's fifth was granted to a favorite, on the nominal payment of five hundred thousand pieces of gold; but the state was doubly injured by this fallacious transaction, if each foot-soldier had shared one thousand, and each horseman three thousand, pieces, in the real division of the plunder. The author of the death of Gregory was expected to have claimed the most precious reward of the victory: from his silence it might be presumed that he had fallen in the battle, till the tears and exclamations of the præfect's daughter at the sight of Zobeir revealed the valor and modesty of that gallant soldier. The unfortunate virgin was offered, and almost rejected as a slave, by her father's murderer, who coolly declared that his sword was consecrated to the service of religion; and that he labored for a recompense far above the charms of mortal beauty, or the riches of this transitory life. A reward congenial to his temper was the honorable commission of announcing to the caliph Othman the success of his arms. The companions the chiefs, and the people, were assembled in the mosch of Medina, to hear the interesting narrative of Zobeir; and as the orator forgot nothing except the merit of his own counsels and actions, the name of Abdallah was joined by the Arabians with the heroic names of Caled and Amrou.

A noble Arab, who later became an enemy of Ali and the father of a caliph, had shown great courage in Egypt, and Zobeir was the first to put the scaling ladder against the walls of Babylon. During the war in Africa, he was separated from Abdallah’s standard. When he heard about the battle, Zobeir, along with twelve companions, fought his way through the Greek camp, pushing forward without eating or resting to share in the dangers faced by his fellow soldiers. He scanned the battlefield and asked, "Where’s our general?" "In his tent," came the reply. "Is a tent where the general of the Muslims should be?" Abdallah blushed as he explained the importance of his life and the temptation offered by the Roman prefect. "Retaliate against the infidels for their cowardly attempt," Zobeir commanded. "Proclaim through the ranks that the head of Gregory will be exchanged for his captured daughter, along with one hundred thousand pieces of gold." The lieutenant of the caliph entrusted Zobeir with executing his strategy, which turned the long-standing conflict in favor of the Saracens. Compensating for their lack of numbers with speed and cleverness, part of their forces remained hidden in their tents while the rest engaged in a disorganized skirmish with the enemy until the sun was high. Both sides retreated with weary steps; their horses were unbridled, their armor set aside, as the warring nations seemed to prepare for the evening's rest and the battle to come. Suddenly, a charge was sounded; the Arab camp burst forth with a wave of fresh and fearless warriors, and the long lines of Greeks and Africans were caught off guard, attacked, and overturned by the new squadrons of the faithful, who, in the eyes of fanaticism, seemed like angels descending from the heavens. Zobeir personally killed the prefect, and his daughter, seeking vengeance and death, was surrounded and captured; the fleeing soldiers brought disaster upon the town of Sufetula as they escaped from the blades and lances of the Arabs. Sufetula was situated one hundred fifty miles south of Carthage, graced with a gentle slope, watered by a stream, and shaded by juniper trees; in the remains of a triumphal arch, a portico, and three Corinthian temples, one can still admire the grandeur of the Romans. After the fall of this prosperous city, the provincials and Barbarians pleaded for mercy from the conqueror. His pride or zeal may have been flattered by offers of tribute or declarations of faith; however, his losses, his exhaustion, and the spread of an epidemic prevented a solid establishment, and the Saracens, after a fifteen-month campaign, retreated to the borders of Egypt with captives and the wealth from their African expedition. The caliph’s fifth was granted to a favorite for the nominal payment of five hundred thousand pieces of gold; yet the state was doubly harmed by this deceptive arrangement, as each foot soldier received one thousand pieces, and each horseman three thousand pieces in the actual division of the spoils. The person responsible for Gregory’s death was expected to claim the most valuable reward from the victory: his silence led others to believe he had fallen in battle until the tears and cries of the prefect’s daughter upon seeing Zobeir revealed the courage and modesty of that brave soldier. The unfortunate young woman was offered, and nearly rejected as a slave, by her father’s killer, who coolly stated that his sword was dedicated to the service of religion and that he sought a reward far beyond earthly beauty or the riches of this fleeting life. A reward fitting his nature was the honorable task of announcing his military success to Caliph Othman. The chiefs, companions, and people gathered in the mosque of Medina to hear Zobeir's captivating story; as the speaker left out only the acknowledgment of his own plans and actions, the name of Abdallah was honored alongside the heroic names of Caled and Amrou.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part VIII.

The Western conquests of the Saracens were suspended near twenty years, till their dissensions were composed by the establishment of the house of Ommiyah; and the caliph Moawiyah was invited by the cries of the Africans themselves. The successors of Heraclius had been informed of the tribute which they had been compelled to stipulate with the Arabs, but instead of being moved to pity and relieve their distress, they imposed, as an equivalent or a fine, a second tribute of a similar amount. The ears of the Byzantine ministers were shut against the complaints of their poverty and ruin: their despair was reduced to prefer the dominion of a single master; and the extortions of the patriarch of Carthage, who was invested with civil and military power, provoked the sectaries, and even the Catholics of the Roman province, to abjure the religion as well as the authority of their tyrants. The first lieutenant of Moawiyah acquired a just renown, subdued an important city, defeated an army of thirty thousand Greeks, swept away fourscore thousand captives, and enriched with their spoils the bold adventures of Syria and Egypt. But the title of conqueror of Africa is more justly due to his successor Akbah. He marched from Damascus at the head of ten thousand of the bravest Arabs; and the genuine force of the Moslems was enlarged by the doubtful aid and conversion of many thousand Barbarians. It would be difficult, nor is it necessary, to trace the accurate line of the progress of Akbah. The interior regions have been peopled by the Orientals with fictitious armies and imaginary citadels. In the warlike province of Zab, or Numidia, fourscore thousand of the natives might assemble in arms; but the number of three hundred and sixty towns is incompatible with the ignorance or decay of husbandry; and a circumference of three leagues will not be justified by the ruins of Erbe or Lambesa, the ancient metropolis of that inland country. As we approach the seacoast, the well-known cities of Bugia and Tangier define the more certain limits of the Saracen victories. A remnant of trade still adheres to the commodious harbor of Bugia which, in a more prosperous age, is said to have contained about twenty thousand houses; and the plenty of iron which is dug from the adjacent mountains might have supplied a braver people with the instruments of defence. The remote position and venerable antiquity of Tingi, or Tangier, have been decorated by the Greek and Arabian fables; but the figurative expressions of the latter, that the walls were constructed of brass, and that the roofs were covered with gold and silver, may be interpreted as the emblems of strength and opulence. The provinces of Mauritania Tingitana, which assumed the name of the capital, had been imperfectly discovered and settled by the Romans; the five colonies were confined to a narrow pale, and the more southern parts were seldom explored except by the agents of luxury, who searched the forests for ivory and the citron-wood, and the shores of the ocean for the purple shell-fish. The fearless Akbah plunged into the heart of the country, traversed the wilderness in which his successors erected the splendid capitals of Fez and Morocco, and at length penetrated to the verge of the Atlantic and the great desert. The river Sus descends from the western sides of Mount Atlas, fertilizes, like the Nile, the adjacent soil, and falls into the sea at a moderate distance from the Canary, or Fortunate Islands. Its banks were inhabited by the last of the Moors, a race of savages, without laws, or discipline, or religion; they were astonished by the strange and irresistible terrors of the Oriental arms; and as they possessed neither gold nor silver, the riches spoil was the beauty of the female captives, some of whom were afterwards sold for a thousand pieces of gold. The career, though not the zeal, of Akbah was checked by the prospect of a boundless ocean. He spurred his horse into the waves, and raising his eyes to heaven, exclaimed with a tone of a fanatic, "Great God! if my course were not stopped by this sea, I would still go on, to the unknown kingdoms of the West, preaching the unity of thy holy name, and putting to the sword the rebellious nations who worship any other Gods than thee." Yet this Mahometan Alexander, who sighed for new worlds, was unable to preserve his recent conquests. By the universal defection of the Greeks and Africans, he was recalled from the shores of the Atlantic, and the surrounding multitudes left him only the resource of an honorable death. The last scene was dignified by an example of national virtue. An ambitious chief, who had disputed the command and failed in the attempt, was led about as a prisoner in the camp of the Arabian general. The insurgents had trusted to his discontent and revenge; he disdained their offers, and revealed their designs. In the hour of danger, the grateful Akbah unlocked his fetters, and advised him to retire; he chose to die under the banner of his rival. Embracing as friends and martyrs, they unsheathed their cimeters, broke their scabbards, and maintained an obstinate combat, till they fell by each other's side on the last of their slaughtered countrymen. The third general or governor of Africa, Zuheir, avenged and encountered the fate of his predecessor. He vanquished the natives in many battles; he was overthrown by a powerful army, which Constantinople had sent to the relief of Carthage.

The Western conquests of the Saracens were on hold for about twenty years until their conflicts were resolved with the establishment of the Ommiyah dynasty. The caliph Moawiyah was called upon by the pleas of the Africans themselves. The successors of Heraclius were aware of the tribute they had been forced to agree to with the Arabs, but instead of feeling sympathy and easing their suffering, they imposed a second tribute of the same amount as a penalty. The Byzantine officials ignored the complaints about their poverty and ruin; in their despair, they preferred the rule of a single master. The exploitation by the patriarch of Carthage, who held both civil and military power, angered the sectarians and even the Catholics in the Roman province, leading them to reject both the religion and authority of their oppressors. Moawiyah’s top lieutenant gained significant fame, conquered an important city, defeated an army of thirty thousand Greeks, took eighty thousand captives, and enriched the daring campaigns in Syria and Egypt with their spoils. However, the title of conqueror of Africa more rightly belongs to his successor, Akbah. He set out from Damascus with ten thousand of the bravest Arabs, and the true strength of the Muslims was bolstered by the uncertain support and conversion of many thousands of Barbarians. It would be difficult, and unnecessary, to accurately trace Akbah’s progress. The interior regions were populated by the Orientals with fictitious armies and imaginary fortresses. In the war-ready province of Zab, or Numidia, eighty thousand locals might be able to gather arms; yet, the number of three hundred sixty towns contradicts the ignorance or decline of agriculture, and a radius of three leagues cannot be justified by the ruins of Erbe or Lambesa, the ancient capital of that inland region. As we get closer to the coast, the well-known cities of Bugia and Tangier mark the more definite boundaries of the Saracen victories. A remnant of trade still clings to the convenient harbor of Bugia, which, in a more prosperous time, was said to have around twenty thousand houses; and the abundance of iron sourced from nearby mountains could have supplied a braver people with tools for defense. The distant location and ancient history of Tingi, or Tangier, have been embellished by Greek and Arabian legends; however, the figurative language of the latter, describing walls made of brass and roofs covered with gold and silver, can be understood as symbols of strength and wealth. The provinces of Mauritania Tingitana, named after the capital, had been inadequately explored and settled by the Romans; the five colonies were enclosed within a narrow boundary, and the more southern regions were rarely explored except by luxury agents looking for ivory, citron wood, and purple shellfish along the ocean shores. The fearless Akbah ventured into the heart of the country, crossed the wilderness where his successors built the impressive capitals of Fez and Morocco, and eventually reached the edge of the Atlantic and the vast desert. The river Sus, descending from the western slopes of Mount Atlas, nourishes the neighboring land, like the Nile, and flows into the sea not far from the Canary or Fortunate Islands. Its banks were populated by the last of the Moors, a lawless and undisciplined people without any religion; they were stunned by the strange and overwhelming terror of the Eastern forces; and since they had no gold or silver, their wealth was in the beauty of the female captives, some of whom were later sold for a thousand pieces of gold. Akbah's advance, though not his eagerness, was halted by the sight of an endless ocean. He urged his horse into the waves and, raising his gaze to the heavens, exclaimed with a fanatic's fervor, "Great God! If this sea didn’t stop my journey, I would continue to the unknown kingdoms of the West, preaching your holy name and fighting against any nations that worship other gods." Yet this Muslim Alexander, who longed for new worlds, couldn’t maintain his recent conquests. Due to a universal rebellion by the Greeks and Africans, he was called back from the Atlantic shores, leaving him only the option of a noble death. The final scene was marked by an example of national virtue. An ambitious leader who had contended for command but failed was paraded as a prisoner in the camp of the Arabian general. The insurgents had counted on his discontent and desire for revenge; he spurned their offers and revealed their plans. In the moment of crisis, the grateful Akbah released his chains and advised him to flee; he chose to perish under the banner of his rival. Embracing as friends and martyrs, they unsheathed their sabers, broke their scabbards, and engaged in a fierce battle, falling side by side among the last of their slain countrymen. The third general or governor of Africa, Zuheir, avenged and faced a fate similar to that of his predecessor. He defeated the locals in numerous battles but was eventually overthrown by a powerful army sent from Constantinople to assist Carthage.

It had been the frequent practice of the Moorish tribes to join the invaders, to share the plunder, to profess the faith, and to revolt to their savage state of independence and idolatry, on the first retreat or misfortune of the Moslems. The prudence of Akbah had proposed to found an Arabian colony in the heart of Africa; a citadel that might curb the levity of the Barbarians, a place of refuge to secure, against the accidents of war, the wealth and the families of the Saracens. With this view, and under the modest title of the station of a caravan, he planted this colony in the fiftieth year of the Hegira. In the present decay, Cairoan still holds the second rank in the kingdom of Tunis, from which it is distant about fifty miles to the south: its inland situation, twelve miles westward of the sea, has protected the city from the Greek and Sicilian fleets. When the wild beasts and serpents were extirpated, when the forest, or rather wilderness, was cleared, the vestiges of a Roman town were discovered in a sandy plain: the vegetable food of Cairoan is brought from afar; and the scarcity of springs constrains the inhabitants to collect in cisterns and reservoirs a precarious supply of rain-water. These obstacles were subdued by the industry of Akbah; he traced a circumference of three thousand and six hundred paces, which he encompassed with a brick wall; in the space of five years, the governor's palace was surrounded with a sufficient number of private habitations; a spacious mosch was supported by five hundred columns of granite, porphyry, and Numidian marble; and Cairoan became the seat of learning as well as of empire. But these were the glories of a later age; the new colony was shaken by the successive defeats of Akbah and Zuheir, and the western expeditions were again interrupted by the civil discord of the Arabian monarchy. The son of the valiant Zobeir maintained a war of twelve years, a siege of seven months against the house of Ommiyah. Abdallah was said to unite the fierceness of the lion with the subtlety of the fox; but if he inherited the courage, he was devoid of the generosity, of his father.

The Moorish tribes often teamed up with the invaders to split the spoils, adopt the faith, and then return to their wild, independent, and idol-worshiping ways at the first setback faced by the Muslims. Akbah wisely proposed to establish an Arabian colony in the heart of Africa; a fortress that could rein in the unpredictability of the Barbarians, a safe haven to protect the wealth and families of the Saracens against the unpredictable nature of war. With this goal in mind, and under the simple title of a caravan station, he set up this colony in the fiftieth year of the Hegira. Today, despite its decline, Cairoan remains the second most important city in the kingdom of Tunis, located about fifty miles south of it. Its inland location, twelve miles from the sea, has kept it safe from attacks by Greek and Sicilian fleets. After the wild animals and snakes were driven out and the forest—or rather, wilderness—was cleared, ruins of a Roman town were found in a sandy plain. The food supply for Cairoan is sourced from afar, and the lack of springs forces the residents to store a limited amount of rainwater in cisterns and reservoirs. Akbah overcame these challenges; he mapped out a perimeter of three thousand six hundred paces and built a brick wall around it. In five years, the governor's palace was surrounded by enough private homes; a grand mosque was supported by five hundred columns made of granite, porphyry, and Numidian marble; and Cairoan evolved into a center of knowledge as well as power. But these were the achievements of a later time; the new colony was shaken by the continuous defeats of Akbah and Zuheir, while their western campaigns were once again disrupted by the internal conflicts in the Arabian monarchy. The courageous Zobeir's son waged a twelve-year war, laying siege for seven months against the house of Ommiyah. Abdallah was known for combining the strength of a lion with the cunning of a fox; but while he inherited his father’s bravery, he lacked his generosity.

The return of domestic peace allowed the caliph Abdalmalek to resume the conquest of Africa; the standard was delivered to Hassan, governor of Egypt, and the revenue of that kingdom, with an army of forty thousand men, was consecrated to the important service. In the vicissitudes of war, the interior provinces had been alternately won and lost by the Saracens. But the sea-coast still remained in the hands of the Greeks; the predecessors of Hassan had respected the name and fortifications of Carthage; and the number of its defenders was recruited by the fugitives of Cabes and Tripoli. The arms of Hassan, were bolder and more fortunate: he reduced and pillaged the metropolis of Africa; and the mention of scaling-ladders may justify the suspicion that he anticipated, by a sudden assault, the more tedious operations of a regular siege. But the joy of the conquerors was soon disturbed by the appearance of the Christian succors. The præfect and patrician John, a general of experience and renown, embarked at Constantinople the forces of the Eastern empire; they were joined by the ships and soldiers of Sicily, and a powerful reenforcement of Goths was obtained from the fears and religion of the Spanish monarch. The weight of the confederate navy broke the chain that guarded the entrance of the harbor; the Arabs retired to Cairoan, or Tripoli; the Christians landed; the citizens hailed the ensign of the cross, and the winter was idly wasted in the dream of victory or deliverance. But Africa was irrecoverably lost; the zeal and resentment of the commander of the faithful prepared in the ensuing spring a more numerous armament by sea and land; and the patrician in his turn was compelled to evacuate the post and fortifications of Carthage. A second battle was fought in the neighborhood of Utica: the Greeks and Goths were again defeated; and their timely embarkation saved them from the sword of Hassan, who had invested the slight and insufficient rampart of their camp. Whatever yet remained of Carthage was delivered to the flames, and the colony of Dido and Cæsar lay desolate above two hundred years, till a part, perhaps a twentieth, of the old circumference was repeopled by the first of the Fatimite caliphs. In the beginning of the sixteenth century, the second capital of the West was represented by a mosch, a college without students, twenty-five or thirty shops, and the huts of five hundred peasants, who, in their abject poverty, displayed the arrogance of the Punic senators. Even that paltry village was swept away by the Spaniards whom Charles the Fifth had stationed in the fortress of the Goletta. The ruins of Carthage have perished; and the place might be unknown if some broken arches of an aqueduct did not guide the footsteps of the inquisitive traveller.

The return of peace at home allowed Caliph Abdalmalek to continue the conquest of Africa. The banner was given to Hassan, the governor of Egypt, and the revenue from that kingdom, along with an army of forty thousand men, was dedicated to this crucial mission. In the ups and downs of war, the Saracens had alternately gained and lost control of the interior provinces. However, the coast was still under Greek control; Hassan’s predecessors had respected the name and fortifications of Carthage, and its defenders included refugees from Cabes and Tripoli. Hassan’s forces were bolder and more successful; he captured and looted Africa's capital, and the mention of scaling ladders suggests he planned a sudden attack instead of a lengthy siege. But the joy of the conquerors was quickly disrupted by the arrival of Christian reinforcements. Prefect and patrician John, an experienced and well-known general, set sail from Constantinople with the forces of the Eastern Empire. They were joined by ships and soldiers from Sicily, and a strong reinforcement of Goths was secured due to the fears and beliefs of the Spanish king. The power of the combined naval forces broke the chain that secured the harbor's entrance; the Arabs retreated to Cairoan or Tripoli; the Christians landed, and the citizens welcomed the cross. Winter was spent in vain hopes of victory or salvation. But Africa was irrevocably lost; motivated by zeal and resentment, the commander of the faithful prepared a larger army by sea and land for the following spring, forcing the patrician to abandon the post and fortifications of Carthage. A second battle was fought near Utica: the Greeks and Goths were again defeated, and their timely retreat saved them from Hassan's sword, who had besieged the flimsy defenses of their camp. Whatever remained of Carthage was set ablaze, and the colony of Dido and Cæsar lay in ruins for over two hundred years until a small part, maybe a twentieth, of the original circumference was repopulated by the first of the Fatimite caliphs. By the early sixteenth century, the second capital of the West had become a mosque, a college without students, twenty-five or thirty shops, and the huts of five hundred peasants who, despite their extreme poverty, displayed the arrogance of the Punic senators. Even that small village was destroyed by the Spaniards that Charles the Fifth had stationed in the Goletta fortress. The ruins of Carthage have vanished, and the site might be forgotten if it weren't for some broken arches of an aqueduct that lead the curious traveler.

The Greeks were expelled, but the Arabians were not yet masters of the country. In the interior provinces the Moors or Berbers, so feeble under the first Cæsars, so formidable to the Byzantine princes, maintained a disorderly resistance to the religion and power of the successors of Mahomet. Under the standard of their queen Cahina, the independent tribes acquired some degree of union and discipline; and as the Moors respected in their females the character of a prophetess, they attacked the invaders with an enthusiasm similar to their own. The veteran bands of Hassan were inadequate to the defence of Africa: the conquests of an age were lost in a single day; and the Arabian chief, overwhelmed by the torrent, retired to the confines of Egypt, and expected, five years, the promised succors of the caliph. After the retreat of the Saracens, the victorious prophetess assembled the Moorish chiefs, and recommended a measure of strange and savage policy. "Our cities," said she, "and the gold and silver which they contain, perpetually attract the arms of the Arabs. These vile metals are not the objects of our ambition; we content ourselves with the simple productions of the earth. Let us destroy these cities; let us bury in their ruins those pernicious treasures; and when the avarice of our foes shall be destitute of temptation, perhaps they will cease to disturb the tranquillity of a warlike people." The proposal was accepted with unanimous applause. From Tangier to Tripoli, the buildings, or at least the fortifications, were demolished, the fruit-trees were cut down, the means of subsistence were extirpated, a fertile and populous garden was changed into a desert, and the historians of a more recent period could discern the frequent traces of the prosperity and devastation of their ancestors. Such is the tale of the modern Arabians. Yet I strongly suspect that their ignorance of antiquity, the love of the marvellous, and the fashion of extolling the philosophy of Barbarians, has induced them to describe, as one voluntary act, the calamities of three hundred years since the first fury of the Donatists and Vandals. In the progress of the revolt, Cahina had most probably contributed her share of destruction; and the alarm of universal ruin might terrify and alienate the cities that had reluctantly yielded to her unworthy yoke. They no longer hoped, perhaps they no longer wished, the return of their Byzantine sovereigns: their present servitude was not alleviated by the benefits of order and justice; and the most zealous Catholic must prefer the imperfect truths of the Koran to the blind and rude idolatry of the Moors. The general of the Saracens was again received as the savior of the province: the friends of civil society conspired against the savages of the land; and the royal prophetess was slain, in the first battle, which overturned the baseless fabric of her superstition and empire. The same spirit revived under the successor of Hassan: it was finally quelled by the activity of Musa and his two sons; but the number of the rebels may be presumed from that of three hundred thousand captives; sixty thousand of whom, the caliph's fifth, were sold for the profit of the public treasury. Thirty thousand of the Barbarian youth were enlisted in the troops; and the pious labors of Musa, to inculcate the knowledge and practice of the Koran, accustomed the Africans to obey the apostle of God and the commander of the faithful. In their climate and government, their diet and habitation, the wandering Moors resembled the Bedoweens of the desert. With the religion they were proud to adopt the language, name, and origin, of Arabs: the blood of the strangers and natives was insensibly mingled; and from the Euphrates to the Atlantic, the same nation might seem to be diffused over the sandy plains of Asia and Africa. Yet I will not deny that fifty thousand tents of pure Arabians might be transported over the Nile, and scattered through the Libyan desert: and I am not ignorant that five of the Moorish tribes still retain their barbarous idiom, with the appellation and character of white Africans.

The Greeks were kicked out, but the Arabs hadn’t taken full control of the country yet. In the interior regions, the Moors or Berbers, once weak against the early Caesars and later a threat to the Byzantine princes, put up a chaotic resistance against the religion and power of Mahomet's successors. Rallying under their queen, Cahina, the independent tribes found some level of unity and structure; and since the Moors viewed their women as prophetesses, they attacked the invaders with an enthusiasm that matched their own. Hassan’s seasoned troops weren’t enough to defend Africa: the conquests accumulated over years were lost in just one day, and the Arabian leader, overwhelmed, retreated to the borders of Egypt, waiting five years for the promised support from the caliph. After the Saracens pulled back, the triumphant prophetess gathered the Moorish leaders and suggested a shocking and brutal plan. "Our cities," she said, "and the gold and silver they hold, constantly attract the Arabs' armies. These worthless metals aren’t what we desire; we’re satisfied with the basic products of the earth. Let’s wipe out these cities; let’s bury their harmful treasures in the rubble, and maybe when our enemies' greed has nothing to lure them, they’ll stop disrupting the peace of our warrior nation." The plan was met with unanimous approval. From Tangier to Tripoli, structures, or at least the fortifications, were torn down, fruit trees were cut down, and sources of food were eradicated; a once fertile and populated area turned into a desert, and later historians could see the frequent signs of both prosperity and destruction among their ancestors. This is the story of the modern Arabs. However, I strongly suspect that their lack of historical knowledge, their love of the sensational, and their tendency to praise the philosophy of Barbarians has led them to depict the misfortunes from three hundred years ago, since the initial onslaught of the Donatists and Vandals, as one single act. During the uprising, Cahina probably played her part in the devastation; and the fear of widespread ruin might have frightened and turned the cities that had reluctantly submitted to her unworthy rule. They likely no longer hoped, and perhaps didn’t even wish, for the return of their Byzantine rulers: their current subjugation provided no relief through order and justice; and the most fervent Catholics would choose the flawed truths of the Koran over the blind and crude idolatry of the Moors. The Saracen general was once again welcomed as the savior of the province: supporters of civil society conspired against the land's savages; and the royal prophetess was killed in the first battle, which shattered her worthless belief system and rule. The same spirit emerged under Hassan's successor: it was finally subdued by the efforts of Musa and his two sons; but the number of rebels can be inferred from the three hundred thousand captives, sixty thousand of whom, the caliph's share, were sold to benefit the public treasury. Thirty thousand young Barbarians were enlisted in the army; and Musa’s efforts to teach the knowledge and practice of the Koran trained the Africans to obey the messenger of God and the commander of the faithful. In their climate and governance, their diet and dwellings, the roaming Moors were much like the Bedouins of the desert. In adopting the religion, they were proud to accept the language, name, and lineage of Arabs: the blood of foreigners and locals gradually blended; and from the Euphrates to the Atlantic, the same nation seemed spread across the sandy plains of Asia and Africa. Still, I can’t deny that fifty thousand tents of pure Arabs could be moved across the Nile and scattered throughout the Libyan desert: and I know that five of the Moorish tribes still keep their barbarous language, along with the name and characteristics of white Africans.

V. 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.

V. During the conquests from the north and south, the Goths and the Saracens met at the borders of Europe and Africa. The Saracens believe that their differing religion justifies their hostility and conflict.

As early as the time of Othman, their piratical squadrons had ravaged the coast of Andalusia; nor had they forgotten the relief of Carthage by the Gothic succors. 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 Mauritania 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 of the Christian chief, who offered his place, his person, and his sword, to the successors of Mahomet, and solicited the disgraceful honor 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 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 motive 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 the more dangerous, as it was varnished with the dissimulation of courts: their followers were excited by the remembrance of favors and the promise of a revolution; and their uncle Oppas, archbishop of Toledo and Seville, was the first 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. The merit and influence of the count rendered him a useful or formidable subject: his estates were ample, his followers bold and numerous; and it was too fatally shown, that, by his Andalusian and Mauritanian commands, he held in his hand the keys of the Spanish monarchy. Too feeble, however, to meet his sovereign in arms, he sought the aid of a foreign power; and his rash invitation of 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 Pyrenæan 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.

As early as Othman's time, their pirate fleets had attacked the coast of Andalusia; they also remembered the Gothic support that helped Carthage. Back then, just like now, the kings of Spain controlled the fortress of Ceuta, one of the Pillars of Hercules, separated by a narrow strait from the other Pillar in Europe. A small part of Mauritania was still needed to complete the African conquest; however, Musa, feeling victorious, was driven back from the walls of Ceuta by the vigilance and bravery of Count Julian, the Gothic general. Musa's disappointment was eased by an unexpected message from the Christian leader, who offered his position, his life, and his sword to Muhammad's successors and sought the dishonorable honor of leading their forces into the heart of Spain. If we look for the reason behind his betrayal, the Spaniards will tell the popular story of his daughter Cava—a virgin who was seduced or violated by her king—and of a father who sacrificed his faith and country for revenge. The desires of rulers have often been reckless and destructive; however, this well-known tale, though romantic, has little solid evidence to back it up, and Spanish history suggests motivations related more to interest and politics in the mind of a seasoned statesman. After Witiza died or was deposed, his two sons were pushed aside by Roderic, an ambitious Gothic noble, whose father, a duke or provincial governor, had fallen victim to the previous tyranny. The monarchy was still elective; however, the sons of Witiza, raised near the throne, were impatient to remain private citizens. Their anger was more dangerous as it was disguised in the tricks of the court; their supporters were stirred by memories of past favors and promises of change; and their uncle, Oppas, the archbishop of Toledo and Seville, was a prominent figure in the church and second in the state. It's likely that Julian was caught up in the disgrace of the defeated faction; that he had little hope and much to fear from the new reign; and that the reckless king could not forget or forgive the wrongs inflicted upon him by Roderic and his family. The merits and influence of the count made him a valuable or threatening subject: his lands were vast, his followers bold and numerous; and it was tragically evident that through his command in Andalusia and Mauritania, he held the keys to the Spanish monarchy. However, too weak to confront his sovereign in battle, he sought assistance from a foreign power; and his reckless invitation to the Moors and Arabs led to eight hundred years of suffering. In his letters or through personal meetings, he laid bare the wealth and vulnerability of his country; the fragility of an unpopular king; the degeneration of a weak people. The Goths were no longer the victorious Barbarians who had humiliated Rome, plundered the queen of nations, and advanced from the Danube to the Atlantic Ocean. Isolated from the world by the Pyrenees, Alaric's successors had rested in prolonged peace: the city walls had crumbled into dust; the youth had forsaken military training; and the arrogance of their former glory would leave them vulnerable to the first attack from invaders. The ambitious Saracen was motivated by the simplicity and significance of the endeavor, but the execution was delayed until he could consult the commander of the faithful; and his messenger returned with permission from Walid to bring the unknown kingdoms of the West under the rule and religion of the caliphs. In his home in Tangier, Musa, with secrecy and caution, continued his correspondence and sped up his preparations. However, the conspirators' guilt was eased by the false promise that he would be satisfied with glory and riches, without aiming to establish the Muslims across the sea separating 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 Tarif their chief; and the date of this memorable event is fixed to the month of Ramadan, of the ninety-first year of the Hegira, to the month of July, seven hundred and forty-eight years from the Spanish æra of Cæsar, seven hundred and ten after the birth of Christ. From their first station, they marched eighteen miles through a hilly country to the castle and town of Julian: on which (it is still called Algezire) they bestowed the name of the Green Island, from a verdant cape that advances into the sea. 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 favorable 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 (Gebel al Tarik) describes the mountain of Tarik; and the intrenchments of his camp were the first outline of those fortifications, which, in the hands of our countrymen, 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. 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 neighborhood 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 valor 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, Roderic 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. "And such," continues a valiant historian of the Arabs, "is the fate of those kings who withdraw themselves from a field of battle."

Before Musa would trust an army of the faithful to the traitors and non-believers of a foreign land, he made a less risky test of their strength and honesty. One hundred Arabs and four hundred Africans crossed over in four ships from Tangier or Ceuta: their landing point on the opposite shore of the strait is marked by the name of Tarif, their leader; and the date of this significant event is set to the month of Ramadan, in the ninety-first year of the Hegira, which corresponds to July, seven hundred and forty-eight years from the Spanish era of Caesar, and seven hundred and ten after the birth of Christ. From their first position, they marched eighteen miles through a hilly region to the castle and town of Julian: they named this place Algezire, meaning the Green Island, after a green cape that extends into the sea. Their welcoming reception, the Christians who joined their forces, their raid into a fertile and unguarded area, the wealth they gained, and the safety of their return signaled to their fellow believers the most promising signs of victory. In the following spring, five thousand veterans and volunteers embarked under the command of Tarik, a fearless and skilled soldier, who exceeded the expectations of his leader; and the necessary transportation was organized by their overly loyal ally. The Saracens landed at the point of Europe; the commonly used name Gibraltar (Gebel al Tarik) refers to Tarik's mountain; and the fortifications of his camp were the initial outlines of those defenses, which, in the hands of our countrymen, have stood against the art and might of the house of Bourbon. The local governors informed the court of Toledo about the arrival and advance of the Arabs; and the defeat of his lieutenant Edeco, who had been ordered to capture and bind the bold strangers, warned Roderic of the serious danger. At the royal command, the dukes and counts, the bishops and nobles of the Gothic monarchy gathered with their troops; and the title of King of the Romans, used by an Arabic historian, can be justified by the close similarities in language, religion, and customs between the peoples of Spain. His army consisted of ninety to one hundred thousand men; a formidable force, if their loyalty and discipline had matched their numbers. Tarik's troops had grown to twelve thousand Saracens; however, angry Christians were drawn in by Julian's influence, and a large number of Africans eagerly embraced the material benefits of the Koran. Near Cadiz, the town of Xeres became famous for the battle that determined the fate of the kingdom; the Guadalete river, flowing into the bay, separated the two camps and marked the advancing and retreating skirmishes over three successive and bloody days. On the fourth day, the two armies met for a more serious and decisive battle; yet Alaric would have been ashamed to see his unworthy successor, adorned with a crown of pearls, weighed down by a flowing robe of gold and silk embroidery, reclining on an ivory litter drawn by two white mules. Despite the bravery of the Saracens, they faltered under the overwhelming numbers, and the plain of Xeres was covered with sixteen thousand of their dead. "My brethren," said Tarik to his surviving companions, "the enemy is in front of you, the sea is behind; where would you flee? Follow your general; I am determined to either lose my life or to triumph over the fallen king of the Romans." Besides the desperation that gave him strength, he relied on the secret communications and nighttime meetings of Count Julian with the sons and the brother of Witiza. The two princes and the archbishop of Toledo held the most crucial position: their timely defection broke the Christians' lines; each warrior was driven by fear or suspicion to think of his own safety; and the remnants of the Gothic army were scattered or destroyed during the flight and pursuit over the next three days. Amid the chaos, Roderic jumped from his litter and mounted Orelia, the fastest of his horses; but he escaped a soldier's death only to perish more disgracefully in the waters of the Bætis or Guadalquivir. His crown, his robes, and his horse were found on the riverbank; however, since the body of the Gothic prince was lost in the waves, the pride and ignorance of the caliph must have been satisfied with some lesser head displayed in triumph before the palace of Damascus. "And this," continues a brave historian of the Arabs, "is the fate of those kings who flee from the battlefield."

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. "The king of the Goths is slain; their princes have fled before you, the army is routed, the nation is astonished. Secure with sufficient detachments the cities of Bætica; but in person, and without delay, march to the royal city of Toledo, and allow not the distracted Christians either time or tranquillity for the election of a new monarch." 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 sea-coast of Bætica, which in the last period of the Moorish power has comprised in a narrow space the populous kingdom of Grenada. The march of Tarik from the Bætis to the Tagus was directed through the Sierra Morena, that separates Andalusia and Castille, 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. The voluntary exiles were allowed to depart with their effects; seven churches were appropriated to the Christian worship; the archbishop and his clergy were at liberty to exercise their functions, the monks to practise or neglect their penance; and the Goths and Romans were left in all civil and criminal cases to the subordinate jurisdiction of their own laws and magistrates. 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 fidelity; and the alliance between the disciples of Moses and of Mahomet was maintained till the final æra of their common expulsion. From the royal seat of Toledo, the Arabian leader spread his conquests to the north, over the modern realms of Castille 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. That strength had been wasted by two successive seasons of famine and pestilence; and the governors, who were impatient to surrender, might exaggerate the difficulty of collecting the provisions of a siege. To disarm the Christians, superstition likewise contributed her terrors: and the subtle Arab encouraged the report of dreams, omens, and prophecies, and of the portraits of the destined conquerors of Spain, that were discovered on breaking open an apartment of the royal palace. 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 mountaineers repulsed the slaves of the caliph; and the sword of Pelagius has been transformed into the sceptre of the Catholic kings.

Count Julian had sunk so deep into guilt and disgrace that his only hope lay in the downfall of his country. After the battle of Xeres, he suggested the most effective strategies to the victorious Saracen. "The king of the Goths is dead; their princes have fled before you, the army is defeated, and the nation is in shock. Secure the cities of Bætica with enough troops, but personally and without delay, march to the royal city of Toledo, and don’t give the confused Christians any time or peace to elect a new ruler." Tarik heeded his advice. A Roman captive and convert, who had been freed by the caliph himself, attacked Cordova with seven hundred cavalry: he swam across the river, caught the town by surprise, and forced the Christians into the large church, where they held out for over three months. Another group subdued the coastal region of Bætica, which, in the final days of Moorish power, included the densely populated kingdom of Grenada in a small area. Tarik’s march from the Bætis to the Tagus went through the Sierra Morena, which separates Andalusia and Castile, until he appeared in arms outside the walls of Toledo. The most dedicated Catholics had fled with the relics of their saints; and even if the gates were closed, it was only until the victor agreed to a fair and reasonable settlement. The willing exiles were permitted to leave with their belongings; seven churches were designated for Christian worship; the archbishop and his clergy could carry out their duties freely, while the monks could choose to practice or skip their penances; and the Goths and Romans were allowed to follow their own laws and judges in all civil and criminal matters. However, while Tarik’s justice protected the Christians, his gratitude and strategy rewarded the Jews, whose secret or open support he relied upon for his major victories. Persecuted by the kings and synods of Spain, who often offered them the choice of exile or baptism, that outcast community seized the moment for revenge: their past and present situation confirmed their loyalty; and the alliance between the followers of Moses and Muhammad lasted until the eventual period of their shared expulsion. From the royal city of Toledo, the Arab leader extended his conquests northward into the modern regions of Castile and León; but it’s unnecessary to list the cities that surrendered to him or to recount the emerald table that was brought from the East by the Romans, acquired by the Goths from the spoils of Rome, and presented by the Arabs to the throne of Damascus. Beyond the Asturian mountains, the coastal town of Gijón marked the limit of Musa’s lieutenant, who had accomplished, with the speed of a traveler, his victorious march of seven hundred miles from the rock of Gibraltar to the Bay of Biscay. A shortage of land forced him to retreat; he was called back to Toledo to explain his overreach in trying to conquer a kingdom without his general. Spain, which had resisted Roman arms for over two hundred years in a more savage and chaotic state, was overrun in just a few months by the Saracens; and so eager were they to submit and negotiate that the governor of Cordova is recorded as the only leader who fell into their hands without conditions. The fate of the Goths had already been irrevocably decided at the field of Xeres; and, in their national panic, each part of the monarchy refused to face the opponent who had defeated the combined strength of all. That strength had been depleted by two consecutive seasons of famine and disease; and the governors, eager to surrender, may have exaggerated the challenges of stockpiling supplies for a siege. To disarm the Christians, superstition also played its role: and the cunning Arab fueled rumors of visions, omens, and prophecies, including the images of those destined to conquer Spain, which were supposedly found upon breaking into a room in the royal palace. Yet a spark of life still flickered: some defiant survivors chose a life of poverty and freedom in the Asturian valleys; the tough mountain dwellers pushed back against the caliph’s forces; and the sword of Pelagius eventually became the scepter of the Catholic kings.





Chapter LI: Conquests By The Arabs.—Part IX.

On the intelligence of this 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 Mauritania 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. At his landing in Algezire, he was respectfully entertained by Count Julian, who stifled his inward remorse, and testified, both in words and actions, that the victory of the Arabs had not impaired his attachment to their cause. 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 labor 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 of this city: happy is the man who shall become its master!" He aspired to that happiness, but the Emeritans sustained on this occasion the honor of their descent from the veteran legionaries of Augustus. Disdaining the confinement of their walls, they gave battle to the Arabs on the plain; but an ambuscade rising from the shelter of a quarry, or a ruin, chastised their indiscretion, and intercepted their return. The wooden turrets of assault were rolled forwards to the foot of the rampart; but 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 Gallicia, 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 Tarragonest province. A mosch 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 Pyrenæan mountains into their Gallic province of Septimania or Languedoc. In the church of St. Mary at Carcassone, Musa found, but it is improbable that he left, seven equestrian statues of massy silver; and from his ter or column of Narbonne, he returned on his footsteps to the Gallician and Lusitanian shores of the ocean. During the absence of the father, his son Abdelaziz chastised the insurgents of Seville, and reduced, from Malaga to Valentia, the sea-coast of the Mediterranean: his original treaty with the discreet and valiant Theodemir will represent the manners and policy of the times. "The conditions of peace agreed and sworn between Abdelaziz, the son of Musa, the son of Nassir, and Theodemir prince of the Goths. In the name of the most merciful God, Abdelaziz makes peace on these conditions: that Theodemir shall not be disturbed in his principality; nor any injury be offered to the life or property, the wives and children, the religion and temples, of the Christians: that Theodemir shall freely deliver his seven cities, Orihuela, Valentola, Alicanti Mola, Vacasora, Bigerra, (now Bejar,) Ora, (or Opta,) and Lorca: that he shall not assist or entertain the enemies of the caliph, but shall faithfully communicate his knowledge of their hostile designs: that himself, and each of the Gothic nobles, shall annually pay one piece of gold, four measures of wheat, as many of barley, with a certain proportion of honey, oil, and vinegar; and that each of their vassals shall be taxed at one moiety of the said imposition. Given the fourth of Regeb, in the year of the Hegira ninety-four, and subscribed with the names of four Mussulman witnesses." 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 Arragon, we must applaud the moderation and discipline of the Arabian conquerors.

On the intelligence of this quick success, Musa's applause turned into envy, and he started to worry—not to complain—that Tarik would leave him nothing to conquer. Leading ten thousand Arabs and eight thousand Africans, he traveled personally from Mauritania to Spain: his closest companions were the noblest of the Koreish; he left his eldest son in charge of Africa; and his three younger brothers were both young enough and brave enough to support their father's boldest ventures. Upon landing in Algezire, he was respectfully welcomed by Count Julian, who suppressed his feelings of guilt and showed through both words and actions that the Arabs' victory had not affected his loyalty to their cause. Some enemies still remained for Musa's sword. The delayed remorse of the Goths made them compare their numbers to those of the invaders; the cities that Tarik had bypassed considered themselves untouchable; and the bravest patriots defended the fortifications of Seville and Merida. They were gradually besieged and worn down by Musa, who moved his camp from the Bætis to the Anas, from the Guadalquivir to the Guadiana. When he saw the remnants of Roman grandeur—the bridge, the aqueducts, the triumphal arches, and the theater of the ancient metropolis of Lusitania—he said to his four companions, “I would think that the human race must have combined their skills and power to build this city: fortunate is the man who will become its master!” He longed for that fortune, but the Emeritans upheld the legacy of their descent from the veteran soldiers of Augustus. Rejecting the safety of their walls, they engaged the Arabs on the plain; however, an ambush from a quarry or a ruin punished their recklessness and blocked their retreat. The wooden siege towers were rolled forward to the base of the rampart, but the defense of Merida was stubborn and prolonged; and the castle of the martyrs constantly reminded the Muslims of their losses. The resilience of those under siege was finally broken by hunger and despair; the shrewd victor masked his impatience under the guise of mercy and respect. They were given the choice of exile or tribute; the churches were shared between the two religions; and the wealth of those who fell in the siege or fled to Gallicia was seized as the reward for the faithful. Halfway between Merida and Toledo, Musa’s lieutenant greeted the vicegerent of the caliph and led him to the palace of the Gothic kings. Their first meeting was cold and formal: a strict account was demanded of Spain's treasures; Tarik’s character was cast into doubt; and the hero was imprisoned, insulted, and shamefully whipped at the hands or by the orders of Musa. Yet the discipline was so strict, the zeal so genuine, or the spirit so subdued among the early Muslims that, after this public humiliation, Tarik was able to serve and be trusted in taking over the Tarragonest province. A mosque was built in Saragossa through the generosity of the Koreish; the port of Barcelona was opened to ships from Syria; and the Goths were chased beyond the Pyrenees into their Gallic province of Septimania or Languedoc. In the church of St. Mary at Carcassonne, Musa discovered, though it’s unlikely he left behind, seven equestrian statues made of solid silver; and from his column in Narbonne, he retraced his steps back to the Galician and Lusitanian coasts of the ocean. While the father was away, his son Abdelaziz punished the rebels in Seville and secured the Mediterranean coast from Malaga to Valencia: his original treaty with the wise and brave Theodemir reflects the customs and politics of the era. "The terms of peace agreed upon and sworn between Abdelaziz, the son of Musa, son of Nassir, and Theodemir, prince of the Goths. In the name of the most merciful God, Abdelaziz establishes peace on these conditions: that Theodemir shall not be disturbed in his principality; nor shall any harm come to the life or property, the wives and children, the religion and temples, of the Christians; that Theodemir shall freely hand over his seven cities, Orihuela, Valentola, Alicanti Mola, Vacasora, Bigerra (now Bejar), Ora (or Opta), and Lorca; that he shall not aid or harbor the enemies of the caliph, but shall diligently inform of their hostile plans; that he, along with each of the Gothic nobles, shall annually pay one gold piece, four measures of wheat, four measures of barley, and a certain amount of honey, oil, and vinegar; and that each of their vassals shall be taxed at half of that amount. Dated the fourth of Regeb, in the year of the Hegira ninety-four, and signed by the names of four Muslim witnesses." Theodemir and his people were treated with remarkable leniency; however, the tax rate appeared to fluctuate between a tenth and a fifth, depending on the submission or resistance of the Christians. In this upheaval, many local disasters were caused by the intense desires and religious fervor of the extremists: some churches were desecrated by the new faith; some relics or images were mistaken for idols; rebels were executed; and one town (an obscure place between Cordova and Seville) was destroyed to its foundations. Yet if we compare the Goths’ invasion of Spain to its recovery by the kings of Castile and Aragon, we must commend the moderation and discipline of the Arab conquerors.

The exploits of Musa were performed in the evening of life, though he affected to disguise his age by coloring with a red powder the whiteness of his beard. But in the love of action and glory, his breast was still fired with the ardor 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 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 Gallicia, 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 Abdelaziz. 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. As soon as he reached Tiberias in Palestine, he was apprised of the sickness and danger of the caliph, by a private message from Soliman, his brother and presumptive heir; who wished to reserve for his own reign the spectacle of victory. Had Walid recovered, the delay of Musa would have been criminal: he pursued his march, and found an enemy on the throne. In his trial before a partial judge against a popular antagonist, he was convicted of vanity and falsehood; and a fine of two hundred thousand pieces of gold either exhausted his poverty or proved his rapaciousness. The unworthy treatment of Tarik was revenged by a similar indignity; and the veteran commander, after a public whipping, stood a whole day in the sun before the palace gate, till he obtained a decent exile, under the pious name of a pilgrimage to Mecca. The resentment of the caliph might have been satiated with the ruin of Musa; but his fears demanded the extirpation of a potent and injured family. A sentence of death was intimated with secrecy and speed to the trusty servants of the throne both in Africa and Spain; and the forms, if not the substance, of justice were superseded in this bloody execution. In the mosch or palace of Cordova, Abdelaziz was slain by the swords of the conspirators; they accused their governor of claiming the honors of royalty; and his scandalous marriage with Egilona, the widow of Roderic, offended the prejudices both of the Christians and Moslems. By a refinement of cruelty, the head of the son was presented to the father, with an insulting question, whether he acknowledged the features of the rebel? "I know his features," he exclaimed with indignation: "I assert his innocence; and I imprecate the same, a juster fate, against the authors of his death." The age and despair of Musa raised him above the power of kings; and he expired at Mecca of the anguish of a broken heart. His rival was more favorably treated: his services were forgiven; and Tarik was permitted to mingle with the crowd of slaves. I am ignorant whether Count Julian was rewarded with the death which he deserved indeed, though not from the hands of the Saracens; but the tale of their ingratitude to the sons of Witiza is disproved by the most unquestionable evidence. The two royal youths were reinstated in the private patrimony of their father; but on the decease of Eba, the elder, his daughter was unjustly despoiled of her portion by the violence of her uncle Sigebut. The Gothic maid pleaded her cause before the caliph Hashem, and obtained the restitution of her inheritance; but she was given in marriage to a noble Arabian, and their two sons, Isaac and Ibrahim, were received in Spain with the consideration that was due to their origin and riches.

The adventures of Musa took place later in his life, although he tried to hide his age by using a red powder to cover the gray in his beard. Yet in his love for action and glory, he was still fueled by youthful passion; owning Spain was just the first step toward ruling Europe. With a strong military presence both at sea and on land, he was getting ready to cross the Pyrenees again to crush the fading kingdoms of the Franks and Lombards in Gaul and Italy, and to promote the idea of one God at the Vatican. From there, by defeating the Barbarians of Germany, he aimed to follow the Danube River from its source to the Black Sea, to topple the Greek or Roman empire of Constantinople, and then return from Europe to Asia to link his new territories with Antioch and the provinces of Syria. But his grand plans, though they might have been easily achievable, seemed excessive to ordinary minds; and this visionary conqueror was quickly reminded of his limitations and obligations. Tarik's friends had effectively detailed his achievements and grievances: at the court in Damascus, Musa's actions were criticized, his motives were questioned, and his delay in responding to the initial invitation was met with a harsher and more urgent summons. A fearless messenger from the caliph arrived at his camp in Lugo, Galicia, and in front of both Saracens and Christians pulled the reins of his horse to a stop. His loyalty, or that of his troops, enforced the need for obedience; and his disgrace was softened by the recall of his rival and the allowance to appoint his two sons, Abdallah and Abdelaziz, to his two positions of power. His long journey from Ceuta to Damascus showcased the treasures of Africa and Spain: four hundred Gothic nobles adorned with gold crowns and belts were noted in his entourage; and the number of male and female captives, chosen for their noble birth or beauty, was estimated at eighteen or even thirty thousand. Once he arrived in Tiberias, Palestine, he received a private message from Solomon, his brother and the expected heir, informing him of the caliph’s illness and peril; Solomon wanted to reserve the display of victory for his own reign. If Walid had recovered, Musa's delay would have been considered a crime: he continued his advance only to find an enemy on the throne. In his trial before a biased judge against a popular foe, he was found guilty of arrogance and deceit; and a fine of two hundred thousand gold pieces either drained his finances or revealed his greed. The unjust treatment of Tarik was avenged by a similar humiliation; the veteran commander was subjected to public flogging and stood for an entire day in the sun outside the palace gate until he received a somewhat dignified exile, under the pretense of a pilgrimage to Mecca. The caliph's rage might have been satisfied with Musa's downfall; but his fears called for the complete eradication of a powerful and wronged family. A death sentence was secretly and quickly communicated to the loyal servants of the throne in both Africa and Spain; and the rituals of justice were bypassed in this bloody execution. In the mosque or palace in Cordova, Abdelaziz was killed by the swords of conspirators; they accused him of seeking royal honors, and his scandalous marriage to Egilona, Roderic's widow, angered both Christians and Muslims. In a cruel twist, Abdelaziz's head was presented to Musa with a taunting question about whether he recognized the features of the rebel. “I know his features,” Musa exclaimed in outrage: “I declare his innocence and invoke a far more just fate against those responsible for his death.” Musa's age and despair elevated him beyond the reach of kings; he died in Mecca from the pain of a shattered heart. His rival faced kinder treatment: his previous actions were forgiven, and Tarik was allowed to merge with the crowd of slaves. I do not know if Count Julian received the punishment he truly deserved, though not from the hands of the Saracens; however, the narrative of their ingratitude toward the sons of Witiza is disproven by the most reliable evidence. The two royal youths were reinstated in their father's private inheritance; but after the death of Eba, the elder, his daughter was wrongfully deprived of her share by her uncle Sigebut's violence. The Gothic maiden took her case before the caliph Hashem and obtained the restoration of her inheritance; but she was married off to a noble Arab, and their two sons, Isaac and Ibrahim, were welcomed in Spain with the respect their lineage and wealth warranted.

A province is assimilated to the victorious state by the introduction of strangers and the imitative spirit of the natives; and Spain, which had been successively tinctured with Punic, and Roman, and Gothic blood, imbibed, in a few generations, the name and manners of the Arabs. The first conquerors, and the twenty successive lieutenants of the caliphs, were attended by a numerous train of civil and military followers, who preferred a distant fortune to a narrow home: the private and public interest was promoted by the establishment of faithful colonies; and the cities of Spain were proud to commemorate the tribe or country of their Eastern progenitors. The victorious though motley bands of Tarik and Musa asserted, by the name of Spaniards, their original claim of conquest; yet they allowed their brethren of Egypt to share their establishments of Murcia and Lisbon. The royal legion of Damascus was planted at Cordova; that of Emesa at Seville; that of Kinnisrin or Chalcis at Jaen; that of Palestine at Algezire and Medina Sidonia. The natives of Yemen and Persia were scattered round Toledo and the inland country, and the fertile seats of Grenada were bestowed on ten thousand horsemen of Syria and Irak, the children of the purest and most noble of the Arabian tribes. A spirit of emulation, sometimes beneficial, more frequently dangerous, was nourished by these hereditary factions. Ten years after the conquest, a map of the province was presented to the caliph: the seas, the rivers, and the harbors, 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 Ommiades 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 Christians monarchs. His royal seat of Cordova contained six hundred moschs, 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 æra of the riches, the cultivation, and the populousness of Spain.

A province is integrated into the victorious state through the arrival of outsiders and the imitative nature of the locals; and Spain, which had been influenced by Punic, Roman, and Gothic blood, quickly adopted the name and customs of the Arabs. The initial conquerors and the twenty subsequent lieutenants of the caliphs were accompanied by a large group of civil and military followers who preferred seeking a fortune far away rather than staying in a limited home. Both private and public interests thrived due to the establishment of loyal colonies; and the cities of Spain took pride in honoring the tribe or country of their Eastern ancestors. The victorious yet diverse forces of Tarik and Musa laid claim to the title of Spaniards through their original conquest; however, they allowed their fellow countrymen from Egypt to partake in their settlements in Murcia and Lisbon. The royal legion from Damascus settled in Cordova; that from Emesa in Seville; that from Kinnisrin or Chalcis in Jaen; and that from Palestine in Algezire and Medina Sidonia. The natives from Yemen and Persia were dispersed around Toledo and the interior regions, while the fertile lands of Granada were given to ten thousand horsemen from Syria and Irak, who descended from the purest and most noble Arabian tribes. A competitive spirit, sometimes beneficial but more often perilous, was fostered by these hereditary factions. Ten years after the conquest, a map of the province was presented to the caliph, detailing the seas, rivers, and harbors, the population and cities, the climate, the soil, and the mineral resources available. Over the span of two centuries, nature's gifts were enhanced by the agriculture, manufacturing, and trade of a hardworking people; and the results of their efforts were often embellished by the laziness of their imagination. The first of the Ommiades to rule in Spain sought the support of the Christians; in his peace and protection edict, he humbly imposed ten thousand ounces of gold, ten thousand pounds of silver, ten thousand horses, as many mules, one thousand breastplates, and an equal number of helmets and lances. The most powerful of his successors received an annual tribute from the same kingdom totaling twelve million and forty-five thousand dinars or gold coins, approximately six million in sterling; a sum that, in the tenth century, likely exceeded the combined revenues of the Christian monarchs. His royal seat at Cordova boasted six hundred mosques, nine hundred baths, and two hundred thousand houses; he governed eighty major cities and three hundred smaller ones; and the fertile banks of the Guadalquivir were adorned with twelve thousand villages and hamlets. The Arabs may have exaggerated some facts, but they created and detailed the most prosperous era of wealth, cultivation, and population in Spain.

The wars of the Moslems were sanctified by the prophet; but among the various precepts and examples of his life, the caliphs selected the lessons of toleration that might tend to disarm the resistance of the unbelievers. Arabia was the temple and patrimony of the God of Mahomet; but he beheld with less jealousy and affection the nations of the earth. The polytheists and idolaters, who were ignorant of his name, might be lawfully extirpated by his votaries; but a wise policy supplied the obligation of justice; and after some acts of intolerant zeal, the Mahometan conquerors of Hindostan have spared the pagodas of that devout and populous country. The disciples of Abraham, of Moses, and of Jesus, were solemnly invited to accept the more perfect revelation of Mahomet; but if they preferred the payment of a moderate tribute, they were entitled to the freedom of conscience and religious worship. In a field of battle the forfeit lives of the prisoners were redeemed by the profession of Islam; the females were bound to embrace the religion of their masters, and a race of sincere proselytes was gradually multiplied by the education of the infant captives. But the millions of African and Asiatic converts, who swelled the native band of the faithful Arabs, must have been allured, rather than constrained, to declare their belief in one God and the apostle of God. By the repetition of a sentence and the loss of a foreskin, the subject or the slave, the captive or the criminal, arose in a moment the free and equal companion of the victorious Moslems. Every sin was expiated, every engagement was dissolved: the vow of celibacy was superseded by the indulgence of nature; the active spirits who slept in the cloister were awakened by the trumpet of the Saracens; and in the convulsion of the world, every member of a new society ascended to the natural level of his capacity and courage. The minds of the multitude were tempted by the invisible as well as temporal blessings of the Arabian prophet; and charity will hope that many of his proselytes entertained a serious conviction of the truth and sanctity of his revelation. In the eyes of an inquisitive polytheist, it must appear worthy of the human and the divine nature. More pure than the system of Zoroaster, more liberal than the law of Moses, the religion of Mahomet might seem less inconsistent with reason than the creed of mystery and superstition, which, in the seventh century, disgraced the simplicity of the gospel.

The wars of the Muslims were justified by the prophet; but among the various teachings and examples from his life, the caliphs emphasized the lessons of tolerance that could help reduce the resistance of non-believers. Arabia was the sacred land of the God of Muhammad; however, he looked upon the nations of the world with less envy and affection. The polytheists and idol worshippers, who didn’t know his name, could be rightfully eliminated by his followers; but wise policies stressed the importance of justice, and after some acts of intolerance, the Muslim conquerors of India spared the temples of that devoted and populous nation. The followers of Abraham, Moses, and Jesus were formally invited to accept the more perfect revelation of Muhammad; but if they chose to pay a reasonable tax, they were granted freedom of conscience and the right to worship. In battle, the lives of prisoners could be redeemed by embracing Islam; the women were required to adopt the religion of their captors, and a new generation of sincere converts grew through the education of young captives. However, the millions of African and Asian converts, who bolstered the local followers of the faithful Arabs, were likely persuaded rather than forced to declare their belief in one God and His messenger. By repeating a phrase and undergoing circumcision, the subjects or slaves, captives, or criminals suddenly became free and equal companions of the victorious Muslims. Every sin was forgiven, every bond was broken: the vow of celibacy was replaced with the fulfillment of nature; the active souls who had been confined to monasteries were stirred by the call of the Saracens; and in the upheaval of the world, everyone in this new society rose to the level dictated by their ability and bravery. The masses were enticed by both the unseen and worldly rewards promised by the Arabian prophet; and it is only charitable to believe that many of his converts sincerely believed in the truth and holiness of his revelation. To a curious polytheist, it must have seemed worthy of both human and divine nature. More pure than Zoroaster’s teachings, more open than Moses' law, the faith of Muhammad may have appeared more reasonable than the creed of mystery and superstition, which, in the seventh century, marred the simplicity of the gospel.

In the extensive provinces of Persia and Africa, the national religion has been eradicated by the Mahometan faith. The ambiguous theology of the Magi stood alone among the sects of the East; but the profane writings of Zoroaster might, under the reverend name of Abraham, be dexterously connected with the chain of divine revelation. Their evil principle, the dæmon Ahriman, might be represented as the rival, or as the creature, of the God of light. The temples of Persia were devoid of images; but the worship of the sun and of fire might be stigmatized as a gross and criminal idolatry. The milder sentiment was consecrated by the practice of Mahomet and the prudence of the caliphs; the Magians or Ghebers were ranked with the Jews and Christians among the people of the written law; and as late as the third century of the Hegira, the city of Herat will afford a lively contrast of private zeal and public toleration. Under the payment of an annual tribute, the Mahometan law secured to the Ghebers of Herat their civil and religious liberties: but the recent and humble mosch was overshadowed by the antique splendor of the adjoining temple of fire. A fanatic Imam deplored, in his sermons, the scandalous neighborhood, and accused the weakness or indifference of the faithful. Excited by his voice, the people assembled in tumult; the two houses of prayer were consumed by the flames, but the vacant ground was immediately occupied by the foundations of a new mosch. The injured Magi appealed to the sovereign of Chorasan; he promised justice and relief; when, behold! four thousand citizens of Herat, of a grave character and mature age, unanimously swore that the idolatrous fane had never existed; the inquisition was silenced and their conscience was satisfied (says the historian Mirchond ) with this holy and meritorious perjury. But the greatest part of the temples of Persia were ruined by the insensible and general desertion of their votaries. It was insensible, since it is not accompanied with any memorial of time or place, of persecution or resistance. It was general, since the whole realm, from Shiraz to Samarcand, imbibed the faith of the Koran; and the preservation of the native tongue reveals the descent of the Mahometans of Persia. In the mountains and deserts, an obstinate race of unbelievers adhered to the superstition of their fathers; and a faint tradition of the Magian theology is kept alive in the province of Kirman, along the banks of the Indus, among the exiles of Surat, and in the colony which, in the last century, was planted by Shaw Abbas at the gates of Ispahan. The chief pontiff has retired to Mount Elbourz, eighteen leagues from the city of Yezd: the perpetual fire (if it continues to burn) is inaccessible to the profane; but his residence is the school, the oracle, and the pilgrimage of the Ghebers, whose hard and uniform features attest the unmingled purity of their blood. Under the jurisdiction of their elders, eighty thousand families maintain an innocent and industrious life: their subsistence is derived from some curious manufactures and mechanic trades; and they cultivate the earth with the fervor of a religious duty. Their ignorance withstood the despotism of Shaw Abbas, who demanded with threats and tortures the prophetic books of Zoroaster; and this obscure remnant of the Magians is spared by the moderation or contempt of their present sovereigns.

In the vast regions of Persia and Africa, the national religion has been replaced by Islam. The unclear beliefs of the Magi were unique among Eastern sects, but Zoroaster's writings could cleverly be linked to the holy heritage of Abraham. Their evil entity, the demon Ahriman, could be portrayed as either a rival to or a being created by the God of light. The temples in Persia didn't have images; however, worshiping the sun and fire could be criticized as blatant and sinful idolatry. A more moderate approach was established through the practices of Muhammad and the wisdom of the caliphs; the Magians, or Ghebers, were classified alongside Jews and Christians as people of the written law. Even as late as the third century of the Hegira, the city of Herat showed a vivid contrast between private devotion and public acceptance. By paying an annual tribute, the Islamic law protected the Ghebers of Herat, allowing them their civil and religious freedoms. But the humble new mosque was overshadowed by the ancient grandeur of the nearby fire temple. A zealous Imam lamented in his sermons about this scandalous proximity and criticized the faith of the people for their weakness or indifference. Spurred by his words, the crowd gathered in uproar; both houses of worship were set ablaze, but the empty lot was quickly taken over by the foundations of a new mosque. The wronged Magi appealed to the ruler of Chorasan, who promised justice and relief. Then, remarkably, four thousand citizens of Herat, known for their seriousness and maturity, unanimously swore that the idolatrous temple had *never* existed; the investigation was silenced, and their conscience was appeased (as historian Mirchond states) with this pious and commendable falsehood. However, most of the temples in Persia fell into ruin due to the unnoticed and widespread abandonment by their worshipers. It was *unnoticed*, as there were no records of time or place, persecution or resistance. It was *widespread*, since the entire region, from Shiraz to Samarcand, adopted the faith of the Koran, and the survival of the native language reflects the heritage of the Muslims in Persia. In the mountains and deserts, a stubborn tribe of nonbelievers clung to the customs of their forefathers; a faint tradition of Magian beliefs still exists in the province of Kirman, along the Indus River, among exiles in Surat, and in the colony established by Shah Abbas at the gates of Ispahan last century. The chief priest has retreated to Mount Elbourz, eighteen leagues from the city of Yezd: the eternal fire (if it continues to burn) is off-limits to outsiders; his residence serves as the school, the oracle, and the pilgrimage site for the Ghebers, whose rugged and consistent features signify the unblended purity of their ancestry. Under the guidance of their leaders, eighty thousand families lead simple and hardworking lives: their livelihood comes from unique crafts and trades, and they tend the land with a devotion akin to religious duty. Their ignorance defied the tyranny of Shah Abbas, who threatened and tortured them for the prophetic texts of Zoroaster; and this obscure remnant of the Magians has been spared by the restraint or disregard of their current rulers.

The Northern coast of Africa is the only land in which the light of the gospel, after a long and perfect establishment, has been totally extinguished. The arts, which had been taught by Carthage and Rome, were involved in a cloud of ignorance; the doctrine of Cyprian and Augustin was no longer studied. Five hundred episcopal churches were overturned by the hostile fury of the Donatists, the Vandals, and the Moors. The zeal and numbers of the clergy declined; and the people, without discipline, or knowledge, or hope, submissively sunk under the yoke of the Arabian prophet. Within fifty years after the expulsion of the Greeks, a lieutenant of Africa informed the caliph that the tribute of the infidels was abolished by their conversion; and, though he sought to disguise his fraud and rebellion, his specious pretence was drawn from the rapid and extensive progress of the Mahometan faith. In the next age, an extraordinary mission of five bishops was detached from Alexandria to Cairoan. They were ordained by the Jacobite patriarch to cherish and revive the dying embers of Christianity: but the interposition of a foreign prelate, a stranger to the Latins, an enemy to the Catholics, supposes the decay and dissolution of the African hierarchy. It was no longer the time when the successor of St. Cyprian, at the head of a numerous synod, could maintain an equal contest with the ambition of the Roman pontiff. In the eleventh century, the unfortunate priest who was seated on the ruins of Carthage implored the arms and the protection of the Vatican; and he bitterly complains that his naked body had been scourged by the Saracens, and that his authority was disputed by the four suffragans, the tottering pillars of his throne. Two epistles of Gregory the Seventh are destined to soothe the distress of the Catholics and the pride of a Moorish prince. The pope assures the sultan that they both worship the same God, and may hope to meet in the bosom of Abraham; but the complaint that three bishops could no longer be found to consecrate a brother, announces the speedy and inevitable ruin of the episcopal order. The Christians of Africa and Spain had long since submitted to the practice of circumcision and the legal abstinence from wine and pork; and the name of Mozarabe (adoptive Arabs) was applied to their civil or religious conformity. About the middle of the twelfth century, the worship of Christ and the succession of pastors were abolished along the coast of Barbary, and in the kingdoms of Cordova and Seville, of Valencia and Grenada. The throne of the Almohades, or Unitarians, was founded on the blindest fanaticism, and their extraordinary rigor might be provoked or justified by the recent victories and intolerant zeal of the princes of Sicily and Castille, of Arragon and Portugal. The faith of the Mozarabes was occasionally revived by the papal missionaries; and, on the landing of Charles the Fifth, some families of Latin Christians were encouraged to rear their heads at Tunis and Algiers. But the seed of the gospel was quickly eradicated, and the long province from Tripoli to the Atlantic has lost all memory of the language and religion of Rome.

The northern coast of Africa is the only place where, after a long and complete establishment, the light of the gospel has been totally extinguished. The arts that had been taught by Carthage and Rome fell into a cloud of ignorance; the teachings of Cyprian and Augustine were no longer studied. Five hundred episcopal churches were destroyed by the destructive actions of the Donatists, the Vandals, and the Moors. The zeal and numbers of the clergy dwindled, and the people, lacking discipline, knowledge, or hope, submissively fell under the control of the Arabian prophet. Within fifty years after the Greeks were expelled, a lieutenant of Africa informed the caliph that the tribute from the infidels had ended due to their conversion; although he tried to hide his deception and rebellion, his misleading claim was based on the rapid spread of the Islamic faith. In the next century, an extraordinary mission of five bishops was sent from Alexandria to Cairo. They were ordained by the Jacobite patriarch to nurture and revive the fading flames of Christianity: but the involvement of a foreign prelate, a stranger to the Latins and an enemy to the Catholics, signaled the decline and disintegration of the African hierarchy. It was no longer a time when the successor of St. Cyprian, leading a large synod, could compete equally with the ambitions of the Roman pope. In the eleventh century, the unfortunate priest who sat on the ruins of Carthage pleaded for the military and protection of the Vatican; he bitterly lamented that his bare body had been whipped by the Saracens and that his authority was challenged by the four suffragans, the crumbling supports of his throne. Two letters from Gregory VII were meant to comfort the Catholics and appease a Moorish prince. The pope assured the sultan that they both worship the same God and might hope to meet in Abraham's embrace; however, the complaint that three bishops could no longer be found to consecrate a brother indicated the impending and unavoidable decline of the episcopal order. The Christians of Africa and Spain had long since adopted the practices of circumcision and abstaining from wine and pork; the term Mozarabes (adoptive Arabs) was used for their civil or religious conformity. By the middle of the twelfth century, the worship of Christ and the succession of pastors were eliminated along the coast of Barbary, in the kingdoms of Córdoba and Seville, Valencia and Granada. The throne of the Almohades, or Unitarians, was built on the most extreme fanaticism, and their severe actions could be provoked or justified by the recent victories and intolerant zeal of the princes of Sicily, Castile, Aragon, and Portugal. The faith of the Mozarabes was occasionally revived by papal missionaries; and upon the arrival of Charles V, some Latin Christian families were encouraged to assert their presence in Tunis and Algiers. But the seed of the gospel was quickly eradicated, and the vast area from Tripoli to the Atlantic has lost all memory of the language and religion of Rome.

After the revolution of eleven centuries, the Jews and Christians of the Turkish empire enjoy the liberty of conscience which was granted by the Arabian caliphs. During the first age of the conquest, they suspected the loyalty of the Catholics, whose name of Melchites betrayed their secret attachment to the Greek emperor, while the Nestorians and Jacobites, his inveterate enemies, approved themselves the sincere and voluntary friends of the Mahometan government. Yet this partial jealousy was healed by time and submission; the churches of Egypt were shared with the Catholics; and all the Oriental sects were included in the common benefits of toleration. The rank, the immunities, the domestic jurisdiction of the patriarchs, the bishops, and the clergy, were protected by the civil magistrate: the learning of individuals recommended them to the employments of secretaries and physicians: they were enriched by the lucrative collection of the revenue; and their merit was sometimes raised to the command of cities and provinces. A caliph of the house of Abbas was heard to declare that the Christians were most worthy of trust in the administration of Persia. "The Moslems," said he, "will abuse their present fortune; the Magians regret their fallen greatness; and the Jews are impatient for their approaching deliverance." But the slaves of despotism are exposed to the alternatives of favor and disgrace. The captive churches of the East have been afflicted in every age by the avarice or bigotry of their rulers; and the ordinary and legal restraints must be offensive to the pride, or the zeal, of the Christians. About two hundred years after Mahomet, they were separated from their fellow-subjects by a turban or girdle of a less honorable color; instead of horses or mules, they were condemned to ride on asses, in the attitude of women. Their public and private building were measured by a diminutive standard; in the streets or the baths it is their duty to give way or bow down before the meanest of the people; and their testimony is rejected, if it may tend to the prejudice of a true believer. The pomp of processions, the sound of bells or of psalmody, is interdicted in their worship; a decent reverence for the national faith is imposed on their sermons and conversations; and the sacrilegious attempt to enter a mosch, or to seduce a Mussulman, will not be suffered to escape with impunity. In a time, however, of tranquillity and justice, the Christians have never been compelled to renounce the Gospel, or to embrace the Koran; but the punishment of death is inflicted upon the apostates who have professed and deserted the law of Mahomet. The martyrs of Cordova provoked the sentence of the cadhi, by the public confession of their inconstancy, or their passionate invectives against the person and religion of the prophet.

After the revolution of eleven centuries, the Jews and Christians of the Turkish empire enjoy the freedom of belief granted by the Arabian caliphs. During the early days of the conquest, they questioned the loyalty of the Catholics, whose name of Melchites revealed their hidden allegiance to the Greek emperor, while the Nestorians and Jacobites, his staunch enemies, proved to be the genuine and willing supporters of the Muslim government. Yet, this initial suspicion faded over time and with submission; the churches of Egypt were shared with the Catholics; and all the Eastern sects benefited from the shared tolerance. The status, privileges, and local authority of the patriarchs, bishops, and clergy were safeguarded by civil authorities: the knowledge of individuals earned them positions as secretaries and physicians: they prospered through the profitable collection of taxes; and their merit sometimes led to positions of command in cities and provinces. A caliph from the Abbasid dynasty was heard to say that Christians were the most trustworthy in the administration of Persia. "The Muslims," he said, "will misuse their current power; the Magians lament their lost greatness; and the Jews are eager for their coming deliverance." However, those under a despotic rule are subject to the whims of favor and disgrace. The captive churches of the East have been troubled in every age by the greed or prejudice of their leaders; and the usual restrictions must offend the pride or zeal of the Christians. Around two hundred years after Muhammad, they were distinguished from their fellow subjects by a turban or girdle of a less prestigious color; instead of horses or mules, they were forced to ride donkeys, seated like women. Their public and private buildings were limited by a smaller standard; in the streets or the baths, they were expected to yield or bow to even the lowliest of people; and their testimony was dismissed if it could harm a true believer. The grandeur of processions, the ringing of bells or singing of hymns, was forbidden in their worship; a respectful acknowledgment of the national faith was required in their sermons and conversations; and the sacrilegious act of entering a mosque or attempting to convert a Muslim would not go unpunished. However, during times of peace and fairness, Christians have never been forced to abandon the Gospel or adopt the Quran; but the death penalty is imposed on those who profess and then renounce the law of Muhammad. The martyrs of Cordoba incurred the judgment of the cadhi by publicly admitting their inconsistency or their impassioned attacks against the person and religion of the prophet.

At the end of the first century of the Hegira, the caliphs were the most potent and absolute monarchs of the globe. Their prerogative was not circumscribed, either in right or in fact, by the power of the nobles, the freedom of the commons, the privileges of the church, the votes of a senate, or the memory of a free constitution. The authority of the companions of Mahomet expired with their lives; and the chiefs or emirs of the Arabian tribes left behind, in the desert, the spirit of equality and independence. The regal and sacerdotal characters were united in the successors of Mahomet; and if the Koran was the rule of their actions, they were the supreme judges and interpreters of that divine book. They reigned by the right of conquest over the nations of the East, to whom the name of liberty was unknown, and who were accustomed to applaud in their tyrants the acts of violence and severity that were exercised at their own expense. Under the last of the Ommiades, the Arabian empire extended two hundred days' journey from east to west, from the confines of Tartary and India to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. And if we retrench the sleeve of the robe, as it is styled by their writers, the long and narrow province of Africa, the solid and compact dominion from Fargana to Aden, from Tarsus to Surat, will spread on every side to the measure of four or five months of the march of a caravan. We should vainly seek the indissoluble union and easy obedience that pervaded the government of Augustus and the Antonines; but the progress of the Mahometan religion diffused over this ample space a general resemblance of manners and opinions. The language and laws of the Koran were studied with equal devotion at Samarcand and Seville: the Moor and the Indian embraced as countrymen and brothers in the pilgrimage of Mecca; and the Arabian language was adopted as the popular idiom in all the provinces to the westward of the Tigris.

At the end of the first century of the Hegira, the caliphs were the most powerful and absolute rulers in the world. Their authority wasn't limited, either legally or practically, by the nobles' power, the people's freedoms, the church's privileges, the senate's votes, or even a memory of a free constitution. The authority of Muhammad's companions ended with their lives, and the leaders of the Arabian tribes left behind a spirit of equality and independence in the desert. The royal and religious roles were combined in Muhammad's successors; and while the Quran guided their actions, they were the ultimate judges and interpreters of that holy text. They ruled by right of conquest over the Eastern nations, who had no concept of liberty and were used to cheering on their tyrants for the very acts of violence that were inflicted upon them. Under the last of the Umayyads, the Arabian empire stretched two hundred days' journey from east to west, from the borders of Tartary and India to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. If we remove the less significant areas, as described by their writers, the long and narrow region of Africa, along with the solid and extensive territories from Fergana to Aden, and from Tarsus to Surat, would encompass an area measuring four or five months of caravan travel in every direction. We would fruitlessly seek the unbreakable unity and easy obedience that characterized the governments of Augustus and the Antonines; however, the spread of Islam created a general similarity in customs and beliefs across this vast region. The language and laws of the Quran were studied with equal dedication in Samarkand and Seville; Moors and Indians embraced each other as countrymen and brothers during the pilgrimage to Mecca; and the Arabic language became the common tongue in all the provinces west of the Tigris.





Chapter LII: More Conquests By The Arabs.—Part I.

     The Two Sieges Of Constantinople By The Arabs.—Their
     Invasion Of France, And Defeat By Charles Martel.—Civil War
     Of The Ommiades And Abbassides.—Learning Of The Arabs.—
     Luxury Of The Caliphs.—Naval Enterprises On Crete, Sicily,
     And Rome.—Decay And Division Of The Empire Of The Caliphs.—
     Defeats And Victories Of The Greek Emperors.
     The Two Sieges of Constantinople by the Arabs.—Their invasion of France and defeat by Charles Martel.—Civil War of the Omayyads and Abbasids.—Learning of the Arabs.—Luxury of the Caliphs.—Naval campaigns in Crete, Sicily, and Rome.—Decline and division of the Caliphate Empire.—Defeats and victories of the Greek Emperors.

When the Arabs first issued from the desert, they must have been surprised at the ease and rapidity of their own success. But when they advanced in the career of victory to the banks of the Indus and the summit of the Pyrenees; when they had repeatedly tried the edge of their cimeters and the energy of their faith, they might be equally astonished that any nation could resist their invincible arms; that any boundary should confine the dominion of the successor of the prophet. The confidence of soldiers and fanatics may indeed be excused, since the calm historian of the present hour, who strives to follow the rapid course of the Saracens, must study to explain by what means the church and state were saved from this impending, and, as it should seem, from this inevitable, danger. The deserts of Scythia and Sarmatia might be guarded by their extent, their climate, their poverty, and the courage of the northern shepherds; China was remote and inaccessible; but the greatest part of the temperate zone was subject to the Mahometan conquerors, the Greeks were exhausted by the calamities of war and the loss of their fairest provinces, and the Barbarians of Europe might justly tremble at the precipitate fall of the Gothic monarchy. In this inquiry I shall unfold the events that rescued our ancestors of Britain, and our neighbors of Gaul, from the civil and religious yoke of the Koran; that protected the majesty of Rome, and delayed the servitude of Constantinople; that invigorated the defence of the Christians, and scattered among their enemies the seeds of division and decay.

When the Arabs first emerged from the desert, they must have been surprised by how easily and quickly they achieved success. But as they continued their victories all the way to the banks of the Indus and the peak of the Pyrenees; after testing their swords and the strength of their faith repeatedly, they might have been just as amazed that any nation could withstand their unstoppable forces; that any border could limit the rule of the prophet's successor. It's understandable that soldiers and fanatics would be confident, but even today’s calm historians, who seek to trace the swift advances of the Saracens, must ponder how the church and state were spared from this looming and seemingly unavoidable threat. The vast, challenging landscapes of Scythia and Sarmatia may have acted as defenses due to their size, harsh weather, lack of resources, and the bravery of the northern shepherds; China was far and hard to reach; yet much of the temperate zone fell under the control of the Muslim conquerors, the Greeks were worn out from the disasters of war and the loss of their most prized lands, and the Barbarians of Europe likely felt justifiably anxious about the swift downfall of the Gothic kingdom. In this examination, I will reveal the events that saved our British ancestors and our neighbors in Gaul from the civil and religious oppression of the Koran; that preserved the greatness of Rome and postponed the enslavement of Constantinople; that strengthened the defense of Christians, and spread seeds of division and decay among their enemies.

Forty-six years after the flight of Mahomet from Mecca, his disciples appeared in arms under the walls of Constantinople. They were animated by a genuine or fictitious saying of the prophet, that, to the first army which besieged the city of the Cæsars, their sins were forgiven: the long series of Roman triumphs would be meritoriously transferred to the conquerors of New Rome; and the wealth of nations was deposited in this well-chosen seat of royalty and commerce. No sooner had the caliph Moawiyah suppressed his rivals and established his throne, than he aspired to expiate the guilt of civil blood, by the success and glory of this holy expedition; his preparations by sea and land were adequate to the importance of the object; his standard was intrusted to Sophian, a veteran warrior, but the troops were encouraged by the example and presence of Yezid, the son and presumptive heir of the commander of the faithful. The Greeks had little to hope, nor had their enemies any reason of fear, from the courage and vigilance of the reigning emperor, who disgraced the name of Constantine, and imitated only the inglorious years of his grandfather Heraclius. Without delay or opposition, the naval forces of the Saracens passed through the unguarded channel of the Hellespont, which even now, under the feeble and disorderly government of the Turks, is maintained as the natural bulwark of the capital. The Arabian fleet cast anchor, and the troops were disembarked near the palace of Hebdomon, seven miles from the city. During many days, from the dawn of light to the evening, the line of assault was extended from the golden gate to the eastern promontory and the foremost warriors were impelled by the weight and effort of the succeeding columns. But the besiegers had formed an insufficient estimate of the strength and resources of Constantinople. The solid and lofty walls were guarded by numbers and discipline: the spirit of the Romans was rekindled by the last danger of their religion and empire: the fugitives from the conquered provinces more successfully renewed the defence of Damascus and Alexandria; and the Saracens were dismayed by the strange and prodigious effects of artificial fire. This firm and effectual resistance diverted their arms to the more easy attempt of plundering the European and Asiatic coasts of the Propontis; and, after keeping the sea from the month of April to that of September, on the approach of winter they retreated fourscore miles from the capital, to the Isle of Cyzicus, in which they had established their magazine of spoil and provisions. So patient was their perseverance, or so languid were their operations, that they repeated in the six following summers the same attack and retreat, with a gradual abatement of hope and vigor, till the mischances of shipwreck and disease, of the sword and of fire, compelled them to relinquish the fruitless enterprise. They might bewail the loss, or commemorate the martyrdom, of thirty thousand Moslems, who fell in the siege of Constantinople; and the solemn funeral of Abu Ayub, or Job, excited the curiosity of the Christians themselves. That venerable Arab, one of the last of the companions of Mahomet, was numbered among the ansars, or auxiliaries, of Medina, who sheltered the head of the flying prophet. In his youth he fought, at Beder and Ohud, under the holy standard: in his mature age he was the friend and follower of Ali; and the last remnant of his strength and life was consumed in a distant and dangerous war against the enemies of the Koran. His memory was revered; but the place of his burial was neglected and unknown, during a period of seven hundred and eighty years, till the conquest of Constantinople by Mahomet the Second. A seasonable vision (for such are the manufacture of every religion) revealed the holy spot at the foot of the walls and the bottom of the harbor; and the mosch of Ayub has been deservedly chosen for the simple and martial inauguration of the Turkish sultans.

Forty-six years after Muhammad fled from Mecca, his followers showed up with weapons at the walls of Constantinople. They were motivated by a true or fabricated saying of the prophet, that the first army to besiege the city of the Caesars would have their sins forgiven: the long history of Roman victories would be earned by the conquerors of New Rome, and the wealth of nations was stored in this well-placed center of power and trade. As soon as Caliph Muawiyah crushed his rivals and secured his throne, he aimed to atone for the bloodshed from civil wars through the success and glory of this holy campaign; his preparations by land and sea matched the importance of the goal; his banner was entrusted to Sophian, a seasoned fighter, but the troops were motivated by the presence and example of Yezid, the son and presumed heir of the commander of the faithful. The Greeks had little hope, and their enemies had no reason to fear the courage and vigilance of the reigning emperor, who dishonored the name of Constantine and only mirrored the shameful years of his grandfather Heraclius. Without delay or challenge, the Saracen naval forces sailed through the unguarded Hellespont, which even now, under the weak and chaotic governance of the Turks, serves as the natural defense of the capital. The Arabian fleet dropped anchor, and the troops were disembarked near the palace of Hebdomon, seven miles from the city. For many days, from dawn until dusk, the line of attack stretched from the Golden Gate to the eastern promontory as the bravest warriors were pushed forward by the weight and energy of the following columns. However, the besiegers underestimated the strength and resources of Constantinople. The strong, towering walls were defended by numbers and discipline: the spirit of the Romans was reignited by the urgent threat to their religion and empire: the refugees from the conquered provinces were better able to renew the defense of Damascus and Alexandria; and the Saracens were unsettled by the strange and amazing effects of Greek fire. This strong and effective resistance diverted their efforts to the easier task of plundering the European and Asian coasts of the Propontis; and, after dominating the sea from April to September, they retreated eighty miles from the capital to the Isle of Cyzicus, where they had stored their plunder and supplies. Their perseverance was either patient or their operations sluggish, as they repeated the same attack and retreat over the next six summers, gradually losing hope and strength, until misfortunes from shipwreck, disease, battle, and fire forced them to give up the fruitless mission. They could mourn the loss or honor the martyrdom of thirty thousand Muslims who died in the siege of Constantinople; and the solemn funeral of Abu Ayub, or Job, piqued the interest of the Christians. That respected Arab, one of the last companions of Muhammad, was counted among the ansars, or supporters, of Medina, who provided refuge to the fleeing prophet. In his youth, he fought at Beder and Uhud under the holy banner: in his later years, he was the friend and follower of Ali; and the last of his strength and life was spent in a distant and perilous war against the foes of the Quran. His legacy was honored; but the site of his burial was overlooked and unknown for seven hundred and eighty years, until Constantinople was conquered by Muhammad the Second. A timely vision (for such things are created in every religion) revealed the sacred location at the foot of the walls and the bottom of the harbor; and the mosque of Ayub has been rightly chosen for the simple and martial inauguration of the Turkish sultans.

The event of the siege revived, both in the East and West, the reputation of the Roman arms, and cast a momentary shade over the glories of the Saracens. The Greek ambassador was favorably received at Damascus, a general council of the emirs or Koreish: a peace, or truce, of thirty years was ratified between the two empires; and the stipulation of an annual tribute, fifty horses of a noble breed, fifty slaves, and three thousand pieces of gold, degraded the majesty of the commander of the faithful. The aged caliph was desirous of possessing his dominions, and ending his days in tranquillity and repose: while the Moors and Indians trembled at his name, his palace and city of Damascus was insulted by the Mardaites, or Maronites, of Mount Libanus, the firmest barrier of the empire, till they were disarmed and transplanted by the suspicious policy of the Greeks. After the revolt of Arabia and Persia, the house of Ommiyah was reduced to the kingdoms of Syria and Egypt: their distress and fear enforced their compliance with the pressing demands of the Christians; and the tribute was increased to a slave, a horse, and a thousand pieces of gold, for each of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the solar year. But as soon as the empire was again united by the arms and policy of Abdalmalek, he disclaimed a badge of servitude not less injurious to his conscience than to his pride; he discontinued the payment of the tribute; and the resentment of the Greeks was disabled from action by the mad tyranny of the second Justinian, the just rebellion of his subjects, and the frequent change of his antagonists and successors. Till the reign of Abdalmalek, the Saracens had been content with the free possession of the Persian and Roman treasures, in the coins of Chosroes and Cæsar. By the command of that caliph, a national mint was established, both for silver and gold, and the inscription of the Dinar, though it might be censured by some timorous casuists, proclaimed the unity of the God of Mahomet. Under the reign of the caliph Walid, the Greek language and characters were excluded from the accounts of the public revenue. If this change was productive of the invention or familiar use of our present numerals, the Arabic or Indian ciphers, as they are commonly styled, a regulation of office has promoted the most important discoveries of arithmetic, algebra, and the mathematical sciences.

The siege brought back, both in the East and West, the reputation of the Roman military and momentarily overshadowed the achievements of the Saracens. The Greek ambassador was well-received in Damascus at a general council of the emirs or Koreish; a peace truce lasting thirty years was agreed upon between the two empires. The agreement included an annual tribute of fifty fine horses, fifty slaves, and three thousand gold coins, which diminished the standing of the commander of the faithful. The elderly caliph wanted to maintain his territories and spend his final days in peace and comfort. While the Moors and Indians feared him, his palace and the city of Damascus were insulted by the Mardaites, or Maronites, from Mount Libanus, the strongest defense of the empire, until they were disarmed and removed due to the suspicious strategy of the Greeks. After the revolts in Arabia and Persia, the Ommiyah dynasty was left with just the kingdoms of Syria and Egypt. Their distress and fear forced them to comply with the Christians' demands, leading to an increased tribute of one slave, one horse, and a thousand gold coins for each of the three hundred sixty-five days of the year. However, once the empire was unified again under the leadership and strategy of Abdalmalek, he rejected a form of submission that was damaging to his pride and conscience; he stopped paying the tribute, and the Greeks were unable to act due to the chaotic tyranny of the second Justinian, the just rebellion of his people, and the frequent changes in his opponents and successors. Until Abdalmalek's reign, the Saracens had been satisfied with the free access to the riches of Persia and Rome in the coins of Chosroes and Cæsar. Under that caliph's instruction, a national mint was established for both silver and gold, and the inscription on the Dinar, although it might be criticized by some overly cautious scholars, proclaimed the unity of the God of Mohammed. During the reign of caliph Walid, the Greek language and script were eliminated from the public revenue records. If this change led to the invention or common use of what we now refer to as Arabic or Indian numerals, it helped in the significant advancements in arithmetic, algebra, and mathematical sciences through formal regulation.

Whilst the caliph Walid sat idle on the throne of Damascus, whilst his lieutenants achieved the conquest of Transoxiana and Spain, a third army of Saracens overspread the provinces of Asia Minor, and approached the borders of the Byzantine capital. But the attempt and disgrace of the second siege was reserved for his brother Soliman, whose ambition appears to have been quickened by a more active and martial spirit. In the revolutions of the Greek empire, after the tyrant Justinian had been punished and avenged, an humble secretary, Anastasius or Artemius, was promoted by chance or merit to the vacant purple. He was alarmed by the sound of war; and his ambassador returned from Damascus with the tremendous news, that the Saracens were preparing an armament by sea and land, such as would transcend the experience of the past, or the belief of the present age. The precautions of Anastasius were not unworthy of his station, or of the impending danger. He issued a peremptory mandate, that all persons who were not provided with the means of subsistence for a three years' siege should evacuate the city: the public granaries and arsenals were abundantly replenished; the walls were restored and strengthened; and the engines for casting stones, or darts, or fire, were stationed along the ramparts, or in the brigantines of war, of which an additional number was hastily constructed. To prevent is safer, as well as more honorable, than to repel, an attack; and a design was meditated, above the usual spirit of the Greeks, of burning the naval stores of the enemy, the cypress timber that had been hewn in Mount Libanus, and was piled along the sea-shore of Phœnicia, for the service of the Egyptian fleet. This generous enterprise was defeated by the cowardice or treachery of the troops, who, in the new language of the empire, were styled of the Obsequian Theme. They murdered their chief, deserted their standard in the Isle of Rhodes, dispersed themselves over the adjacent continent, and deserved pardon or reward by investing with the purple a simple officer of the revenue. The name of Theodosius might recommend him to the senate and people; but, after some months, he sunk into a cloister, and resigned, to the firmer hand of Leo the Isaurian, the urgent defence of the capital and empire. The most formidable of the Saracens, Moslemah, the brother of the caliph, was advancing at the head of one hundred and twenty thousand Arabs and Persians, the greater part mounted on horses or camels; and the successful sieges of Tyana, Amorium, and Pergamus, were of sufficient duration to exercise their skill and to elevate their hopes. At the well-known passage of Abydus, on the Hellespont, the Mahometan arms were transported, for the first time, from Asia to Europe. From thence, wheeling round the Thracian cities of the Propontis, Moslemah invested Constantinople on the land side, surrounded his camp with a ditch and rampart, prepared and planted his engines of assault, and declared, by words and actions, a patient resolution of expecting the return of seed-time and harvest, should the obstinacy of the besieged prove equal to his own. The Greeks would gladly have ransomed their religion and empire, by a fine or assessment of a piece of gold on the head of each inhabitant of the city; but the liberal offer was rejected with disdain, and the presumption of Moslemah was exalted by the speedy approach and invincible force of the natives of Egypt and Syria. They are said to have amounted to eighteen hundred ships: the number betrays their inconsiderable size; and of the twenty stout and capacious vessels, whose magnitude impeded their progress, each was manned with no more than one hundred heavy-armed soldiers. This huge armada proceeded on a smooth sea, and with a gentle gale, towards the mouth of the Bosphorus; the surface of the strait was overshadowed, in the language of the Greeks, with a moving forest, and the same fatal night had been fixed by the Saracen chief for a general assault by sea and land. To allure the confidence of the enemy, the emperor had thrown aside the chain that usually guarded the entrance of the harbor; but while they hesitated whether they should seize the opportunity, or apprehend the snare, the ministers of destruction were at hand. The fire-ships of the Greeks were launched against them; the Arabs, their arms, and vessels, were involved in the same flames; the disorderly fugitives were dashed against each other or overwhelmed in the waves; and I no longer find a vestige of the fleet, that had threatened to extirpate the Roman name. A still more fatal and irreparable loss was that of the caliph Soliman, who died of an indigestion, in his camp near Kinnisrin or Chalcis in Syria, as he was preparing to lead against Constantinople the remaining forces of the East. The brother of Moslemah was succeeded by a kinsman and an enemy; and the throne of an active and able prince was degraded by the useless and pernicious virtues of a bigot. While he started and satisfied the scruples of a blind conscience, the siege was continued through the winter by the neglect, rather than by the resolution of the caliph Omar. The winter proved uncommonly rigorous: above a hundred days the ground was covered with deep snow, and the natives of the sultry climes of Egypt and Arabia lay torpid and almost lifeless in their frozen camp. They revived on the return of spring; a second effort had been made in their favor; and their distress was relieved by the arrival of two numerous fleets, laden with corn, and arms, and soldiers; the first from Alexandria, of four hundred transports and galleys; the second of three hundred and sixty vessels from the ports of Africa. But the Greek fires were again kindled; and if the destruction was less complete, it was owing to the experience which had taught the Moslems to remain at a safe distance, or to the perfidy of the Egyptian mariners, who deserted with their ships to the emperor of the Christians. The trade and navigation of the capital were restored; and the produce of the fisheries supplied the wants, and even the luxury, of the inhabitants. But the calamities of famine and disease were soon felt by the troops of Moslemah, and as the former was miserably assuaged, so the latter was dreadfully propagated, by the pernicious nutriment which hunger compelled them to extract from the most unclean or unnatural food. The spirit of conquest, and even of enthusiasm, was extinct: the Saracens could no longer struggle, beyond their lines, either single or in small parties, without exposing themselves to the merciless retaliation of the Thracian peasants. An army of Bulgarians was attracted from the Danube by the gifts and promises of Leo; and these savage auxiliaries made some atonement for the evils which they had inflicted on the empire, by the defeat and slaughter of twenty-two thousand Asiatics. A report was dexterously scattered, that the Franks, the unknown nations of the Latin world, were arming by sea and land in the defence of the Christian cause, and their formidable aid was expected with far different sensations in the camp and city. At length, after a siege of thirteen months, the hopeless Moslemah received from the caliph the welcome permission of retreat. * The march of the Arabian cavalry over the Hellespont and through the provinces of Asia, was executed without delay or molestation; but an army of their brethren had been cut in pieces on the side of Bithynia, and the remains of the fleet were so repeatedly damaged by tempest and fire, that only five galleys entered the port of Alexandria to relate the tale of their various and almost incredible disasters.

While Caliph Walid sat idly on the throne of Damascus, and his lieutenants achieved the conquest of Transoxiana and Spain, a third army of Saracens swept through the provinces of Asia Minor and approached the borders of the Byzantine capital. The attempt and failure of the second siege fell to his brother Soliman, whose ambition seemed to be driven by a more active and warrior-like spirit. In the upheaval of the Greek empire, after the tyrant Justinian had been punished and avenged, a humble secretary named Anastasius or Artemius was unexpectedly promoted to the vacant throne due to chance or merit. Alarmed by the sound of war, his ambassador returned from Damascus with the shocking news that the Saracens were preparing an unprecedented military campaign by sea and land. The precautions taken by Anastasius were fitting for his position and the looming danger. He issued an urgent order that anyone without resources to survive a three-year siege should leave the city. The public granaries and arsenals were well-stocked; the walls were restored and reinforced; and siege engines for launching stones, darts, or fire were positioned along the ramparts or in the hastily built warships. It is safer and more honorable to prevent an attack than to defend against one; thus a plan was devised, surpassing the usual spirit of the Greeks, to burn the enemy's naval supplies — the cypress timber cut from Mount Lebanon, stacked along the shores of Phoenicia for the Egyptian fleet. This noble endeavor was thwarted by the cowardice or betrayal of the troops, who, in the new terminology of the empire, were known as the Obsequian Theme. They murdered their leader, abandoned their standard on the Isle of Rhodes, scattered themselves across the nearby mainland, and gained favor by promoting a simple tax officer to the throne. The name Theodosius might have helped him gain support from the senate and people, but after a few months, he withdrew into a monastery, leaving the defense of the capital and empire to the more capable hands of Leo the Isaurian. The most formidable of the Saracen forces, Moslemah, the caliph's brother, was advancing with an army of one hundred and twenty thousand Arabs and Persians, most of whom were mounted on horses or camels; the successful sieges of Tyana, Amorium, and Pergamus had provided them with ample training and raised their morale. At the famous passage of Abydus, on the Hellespont, the Muslim forces were transported for the first time from Asia to Europe. From there, moving around the Thracian cities of the Propontis, Moslemah besieged Constantinople from the land side, surrounded his camp with a ditch and rampart, set up his siege engines, and showed a steadfast commitment to waiting for the return of the planting and harvest seasons, should the besieged show equal stubbornness. The Greeks would have happily ransomed their religion and empire with a fine or tax of a piece of gold on each city inhabitant; however, this generous offer was rejected with disdain, and Moslemah's confidence was boosted by the swift arrival and unstoppable force of reinforcements from Egypt and Syria. They are said to have brought eighteen hundred ships: the number reveals their relatively small size, and of the twenty large vessels, which hindered their progress, each was manned by no more than one hundred heavily armed soldiers. This massive fleet sailed smoothly on calm seas and with a gentle breeze towards the mouth of the Bosphorus; the surface of the strait appeared to the Greeks like a moving forest. That same fatal night had been chosen by the Saracen leader for a coordinated attack by both sea and land. To entice the enemy's confidence, the emperor had removed the chain that typically secured the harbor entrance; but as they debated whether to seize the chance or fear an ambush, the agents of destruction were already at hand. The Greeks launched fire ships against them; the Arabs, their weapons, and vessels were engulfed in flames; the disorganized fleeing troops collided with each other or were overwhelmed by the waves; and I no longer find any trace of the fleet that had threatened to eradicate the Roman name. An even more devastating and irreparable loss was that of Caliph Soliman, who died of indigestion in his camp near Kinnisrin or Chalcis in Syria, just as he was getting ready to lead the remaining Eastern forces against Constantinople. Moslemah's brother was succeeded by a relative and foe; and the throne of a capable and active prince was reduced to the useless and harmful virtues of a zealot. As he grappled with the dilemmas of a misguided conscience, the siege continued throughout the winter due to Caliph Omar's indifference rather than his determination. The winter was uncommonly harsh: for over a hundred days, the ground was blanketed in deep snow, and the people from the warm climates of Egypt and Arabia lay sluggish and nearly lifeless in their frozen camp. They revived with the onset of spring; a second campaign was launched in their favor; and their situation improved with the arrival of two large fleets filled with grain, weapons, and soldiers; the first from Alexandria, consisting of four hundred ships, and the second from the ports of Africa, totaling three hundred and sixty vessels. But Greek fires were rekindled; and although the destruction was less severe, it was due to the experience gained by the Muslims who learned to keep a safe distance, or to the treachery of the Egyptian sailors, who deserted with their ships to the Christian emperor. Trade and navigation in the capital were restored; and seafood provided for the needs, and even the comforts, of the residents. However, famine and disease quickly afflicted Moslemah's troops, and while the former was pitifully alleviated, the latter spread dreadfully due to the unhealthy food that hunger forced them to consume. The spirit of conquest and even enthusiasm had died out: the Saracens could no longer venture beyond their lines, alone or in small groups, without facing ruthless retaliation from the Thracian peasants. An army of Bulgarians was recruited from the Danube by the promises and bribes from Leo; and these brutal allies somewhat compensated for the damage they had caused to the empire by defeating and slaughtering twenty-two thousand Asiatics. A clever rumor circulated that the Franks, the unknown peoples of the Latin world, were mobilizing by sea and land to defend the Christian cause, and this formidable support was awaited with far different emotions in both the camp and the city. Finally, after a thirteen-month siege, the despairing Moslemah received permission to retreat from the caliph. The march of the Arabian cavalry over the Hellespont and through the provinces of Asia was completed without delay or interruption; however, an army of their brethren had been annihilated in Bithynia, and the remains of the fleet suffered such repeated damage from storms and fire that only five galleys made it back to the port of Alexandria to recount their various and almost unbelievable misfortunes.

In the two sieges, the deliverance of Constantinople may be chiefly ascribed to the novelty, the terrors, and the real efficacy of the Greek fire. The important secret of compounding and directing this artificial flame was imparted by Callinicus, a native of Heliopolis in Syria, who deserted from the service of the caliph to that of the emperor. The skill of a chemist and engineer was equivalent to the succor of fleets and armies; and this discovery or improvement of the military art was fortunately reserved for the distressful period, when the degenerate Romans of the East were incapable of contending with the warlike enthusiasm and youthful vigor of the Saracens. The historian who presumes to analyze this extraordinary composition should suspect his own ignorance and that of his Byzantine guides, so prone to the marvellous, so careless, and, in this instance, so jealous of the truth. From their obscure, and perhaps fallacious, hints it should seem that the principal ingredient of the Greek fire was the naphtha, or liquid bitumen, a light, tenacious, and inflammable oil, which springs from the earth, and catches fire as soon as it comes in contact with the air. The naphtha was mingled, I know not by what methods or in what proportions, with sulphur and with the pitch that is extracted from evergreen firs. From this mixture, which produced a thick smoke and a loud explosion, proceeded a fierce and obstinate flame, which not only rose in perpendicular ascent, but likewise burnt with equal vehemence in descent or lateral progress; instead of being extinguished, it was nourished and quickened by the element of water; and sand, urine, or vinegar, were the only remedies that could damp the fury of this powerful agent, which was justly denominated by the Greeks the liquid, or the maritime, fire. For the annoyance of the enemy, it was employed with equal effect, by sea and land, in battles or in sieges. It was either poured from the rampart in large boilers, or launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in arrows and javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil; sometimes it was deposited in fire-ships, the victims and instruments of a more ample revenge, and was most commonly blown through long tubes of copper which were planted on the prow of a galley, and fancifully shaped into the mouths of savage monsters, that seemed to vomit a stream of liquid and consuming fire. This important art was preserved at Constantinople, as the palladium of the state: the galleys and artillery might occasionally be lent to the allies of Rome; but the composition of the Greek fire was concealed with the most jealous scruple, and the terror of the enemies was increased and prolonged by their ignorance and surprise. In the treaties of the administration of the empire, the royal author suggests the answers and excuses that might best elude the indiscreet curiosity and importunate demands of the Barbarians. They should be told that the mystery of the Greek fire had been revealed by an angel to the first and greatest of the Constantines, with a sacred injunction, that this gift of Heaven, this peculiar blessing of the Romans, should never be communicated to any foreign nation; that the prince and the subject were alike bound to religious silence under the temporal and spiritual penalties of treason and sacrilege; and that the impious attempt would provoke the sudden and supernatural vengeance of the God of the Christians. By these precautions, the secret was confined, above four hundred years, to the Romans of the East; and at the end of the eleventh century, the Pisans, to whom every sea and every art were familiar, suffered the effects, without understanding the composition, of the Greek fire. It was at length either discovered or stolen by the Mahometans; and, in the holy wars of Syria and Egypt, they retorted an invention, contrived against themselves, on the heads of the Christians. A knight, who despised the swords and lances of the Saracens, relates, with heartfelt sincerity, his own fears, and those of his companions, at the sight and sound of the mischievous engine that discharged a torrent of the Greek fire, the feu Gregeois, as it is styled by the more early of the French writers. It came flying through the air, says Joinville, like a winged long-tailed dragon, about the thickness of a hogshead, with the report of thunder and the velocity of lightning; and the darkness of the night was dispelled by this deadly illumination. The use of the Greek, or, as it might now be called, of the Saracen fire, was continued to the middle of the fourteenth century, when the scientific or casual compound of nitre, sulphur, and charcoal, effected a new revolution in the art of war and the history of mankind.

In the two sieges, the rescue of Constantinople can mainly be attributed to the novelty, the fear, and the real effectiveness of the Greek fire. The crucial secret of creating and directing this artificial flame was given by Callinicus, a native of Heliopolis in Syria, who switched from serving the caliph to the emperor. The expertise of a chemist and engineer was comparable to the support of fleets and armies, and this discovery or enhancement of military technology was luckily preserved for a desperate time when the weakened Eastern Romans were unable to compete with the warlike enthusiasm and youthful energy of the Saracens. The historian who attempts to analyze this extraordinary concoction should question his own knowledge and that of his Byzantine sources, who were prone to exaggeration, careless, and, in this case, protective of the truth. From their vague, and possibly misleading, hints, it seems that the main ingredient of the Greek fire was naphtha, or liquid bitumen, a light, sticky, and flammable oil that rises from the earth and ignites upon contact with the air. The naphtha was mixed—though I cannot say how or in what ratios—with sulfur and pitch extracted from evergreen trees. This mixture produced a thick smoke and a loud bang, resulting in a fierce and stubborn flame that not only shot upwards but also burned just as fiercely downwards or sideways; rather than being extinguished, it was fueled and intensified by water, and the only things that could subdue this powerful agent were sand, urine, or vinegar, which the Greeks aptly called the liquid or maritime fire. It was used effectively against enemies, both at sea and on land, during battles and sieges. It could be poured from the ramparts using large boilers, launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or shot from arrows and javelins wrapped in flax and tow that had soaked up the flammable oil; there were even fire ships, designed for greater revenge, and the fire was most commonly blown through long copper tubes on the prow of a ship, crafted into the shapes of savage monsters that seemed to spit out streams of liquid and destructive fire. This important skill was preserved in Constantinople as the protector of the state: the galleys and artillery could sometimes be lent to Rome’s allies, but the recipe for Greek fire was kept secret with great care, prolonging the terror of their enemies due to their ignorance and surprise. In the treaties governing the empire, the royal author suggests the best responses and excuses to deflect the inappropriate curiosity and demanding inquiries of the Barbarians. They should be told that the mystery of Greek fire was revealed by an angel to the first and greatest of the Constantines, with a divine command that this heavenly gift, this special blessing of the Romans, should never be shared with any foreign nation; that both the prince and the subject were bound to keep this secret under the threat of earthly and spiritual penalties of treason and sacrilege; and that such an irreverent attempt would provoke the swift and supernatural wrath of the Christian God. Through these precautions, the secret was kept for over four hundred years among the Eastern Romans; and by the end of the eleventh century, the Pisans, who were familiar with every sea and every skill, experienced the effects of Greek fire without knowing its composition. Eventually, it was either discovered or taken by the Muslims, who in the holy wars in Syria and Egypt turned this weapon, designed against them, back on the Christians. A knight, who dismissed the swords and lances of the Saracens, recounts, with genuine emotion, his own fears and those of his companions when they witnessed the fearsome device that unleashed a torrent of Greek fire, or feu Gregeois, as referred to by early French writers. Joinville describes it flying through the air like a winged dragon with a long tail, about the size of a barrel, accompanied by the sound of thunder and the speed of lightning; and the darkness of the night was pierced by this deadly illumination. The use of Greek fire, or what might now be called Saracen fire, continued until the mid-fourteenth century, when a new combination of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal brought about a revolution in warfare and the history of mankind.





Chapter LII: More Conquests By The Arabs.—Part II.

Constantinople and the Greek fire might exclude the Arabs from the eastern entrance of Europe; but in the West, on the side of the Pyrenees, the provinces of Gaul were threatened and invaded by the conquerors of Spain. The decline of the French monarchy invited the attack of these insatiate fanatics. The descendants of Clovis had lost the inheritance of his martial and ferocious spirit; and their misfortune or demerit has affixed the epithet of lazy to the last kings of the Merovingian race. They ascended the throne without power, and sunk into the grave without a name. A country palace, in the neighborhood of Compiegne was allotted for their residence or prison: but each year, in the month of March or May, they were conducted in a wagon drawn by oxen to the assembly of the Franks, to give audience to foreign ambassadors, and to ratify the acts of the mayor of the palace. That domestic officer was become the minister of the nation and the master of the prince. A public employment was converted into the patrimony of a private family: the elder Pepin left a king of mature years under the guardianship of his own widow and her child; and these feeble regents were forcibly dispossessed by the most active of his bastards. A government, half savage and half corrupt, was almost dissolved; and the tributary dukes, and provincial counts, and the territorial lords, were tempted to despise the weakness of the monarch, and to imitate the ambition of the mayor. Among these independent chiefs, one of the boldest and most successful was Eudes, duke of Aquitain, who in the southern provinces of Gaul usurped the authority, and even the title of king. The Goths, the Gascons, and the Franks, assembled under the standard of this Christian hero: he repelled the first invasion of the Saracens; and Zama, lieutenant of the caliph, lost his army and his life under the walls of Thoulouse. The ambition of his successors was stimulated by revenge; they repassed the Pyrenees with the means and the resolution of conquest. The advantageous situation which had recommended Narbonne as the first Roman colony, was again chosen by the Moslems: they claimed the province of Septimania or Languedoc as a just dependence of the Spanish monarchy: the vineyards of Gascony and the city of Bourdeaux were possessed by the sovereign of Damascus and Samarcand; and the south of France, from the mouth of the Garonne to that of the Rhone, assumed the manners and religion of Arabia.

Constantinople and Greek fire might keep the Arabs from entering Eastern Europe; but in the West, on the side of the Pyrenees, the provinces of Gaul faced threats and invasions by the conquerors from Spain. The decline of the French monarchy invited attacks from these relentless fanatics. The descendants of Clovis had lost his fighting spirit and fierce nature; as a result, the last kings of the Merovingian line were labeled lazy. They took the throne without real power and passed away without leaving a legacy. A country palace near Compiegne was designated for their residence or imprisonment: each year, in March or May, they were transported in an ox-drawn wagon to the assembly of the Franks to meet foreign ambassadors and approve the decisions of the mayor of the palace. This domestic official had become the nation's minister and the prince’s master. A public role was turned into a family legacy: the elder Pepin left a king of age under the care of his widow and her child; these weak regents were forcibly removed by Pepin's most active bastard. A government, half-savage and half-corrupt, was nearly falling apart; and the tributary dukes, provincial counts, and territorial lords began to look down on the king's weakness and emulate the mayor's ambition. Among these independent leaders, one of the boldest and most successful was Eudes, duke of Aquitain, who claimed authority and even the title of king in southern Gaul. The Goths, Gascons, and Franks rallied under this Christian hero: he halted the first invasion of the Saracens, and Zama, the caliph's lieutenant, lost both his army and his life at the walls of Toulouse. The ambition of his successors was fueled by a desire for revenge; they crossed the Pyrenees again with the means and determination to conquer. The strategic location that had made Narbonne the first Roman colony was again chosen by the Muslims: they claimed the province of Septimania or Languedoc as a rightful part of the Spanish monarchy; the vineyards of Gascony and the city of Bordeaux were under the control of the sovereign of Damascus and Samarcand, and southern France, from the mouth of the Garonne to that of the Rhone, adopted the customs and religion of Arabia.

But these narrow limits were scorned by the spirit of Abdalraman, or Abderame, who had been restored by the caliph Hashem to the wishes of the soldiers and people of Spain. That veteran and daring commander adjudged to the obedience of the prophet whatever yet remained of France or of Europe; and prepared to execute the sentence, at the head of a formidable host, in the full confidence of surmounting all opposition either of nature or of man. His first care was to suppress a domestic rebel, who commanded the most important passes of the Pyrenees: Manuza, a Moorish chief, had accepted the alliance of the duke of Aquitain; and Eudes, from a motive of private or public interest, devoted his beauteous daughter to the embraces of the African misbeliever. But the strongest fortresses of Cerdagne were invested by a superior force; the rebel was overtaken and slain in the mountains; and his widow was sent a captive to Damascus, to gratify the desires, or more probably the vanity, of the commander of the faithful. From the Pyrenees, Abderame proceeded without delay to the passage of the Rhone and the siege of Arles. An army of Christians attempted the relief of the city: the tombs of their leaders were yet visible in the thirteenth century; and many thousands of their dead bodies were carried down the rapid stream into the Mediterranean Sea. The arms of Abderame were not less successful on the side of the ocean. He passed without opposition the Garonne and Dordogne, which unite their waters in the Gulf of Bourdeaux; but he found, beyond those rivers, the camp of the intrepid Eudes, who had formed a second army and sustained a second defeat, so fatal to the Christians, that, according to their sad confession, God alone could reckon the number of the slain. The victorious Saracen overran the provinces of Aquitain, whose Gallic names are disguised, rather than lost, in the modern appellations of Perigord, Saintonge, and Poitou: his standards were planted on the walls, or at least before the gates, of Tours and of Sens; and his detachments overspread the kingdom of Burgundy as far as the well-known cities of Lyons and Besancon. The memory of these devastations (for Abderame did not spare the country or the people) was long preserved by tradition; and the invasion of France by the Moors or Mahometans affords the groundwork of those fables, which have been so wildly disfigured in the romances of chivalry, and so elegantly adorned by the Italian muse. In the decline of society and art, the deserted cities could supply a slender booty to the Saracens; their richest spoil was found in the churches and monasteries, which they stripped of their ornaments and delivered to the flames: and the tutelar saints, both Hilary of Poitiers and Martin of Tours, forgot their miraculous powers in the defence of their own sepulchres. A victorious line of march had been prolonged above a thousand miles from the rock of Gibraltar to the banks of the Loire; the repetition of an equal space would have carried the Saracens to the confines of Poland and the Highlands of Scotland; the Rhine is not more impassable than the Nile or Euphrates, and the Arabian fleet might have sailed without a naval combat into the mouth of the Thames. Perhaps the interpretation of the Koran would now be taught in the schools of Oxford, and her pulpits might demonstrate to a circumcised people the sanctity and truth of the revelation of Mahomet.

But the narrow limits were disregarded by the spirit of Abdalraman, or Abderame, who had been restored by Caliph Hashem to meet the desires of the soldiers and people of Spain. That seasoned and bold commander believed that the obedience to the prophet covered whatever remained of France or Europe; he prepared to carry out this plan, leading a formidable army, fully confident in overcoming all opposition from either nature or humanity. His first priority was to put down a domestic rebel commanding the key passes of the Pyrenees: Manuza, a Moorish chief, had allied himself with the Duke of Aquitaine, and Eudes, whether out of personal or public interest, dedicated his beautiful daughter to the embraces of the African infidel. But the strongest fortresses of Cerdagne were besieged by a larger force; the rebel was tracked down and killed in the mountains; his widow was sent as a captive to Damascus, either to satisfy the desires, or more likely the vanity, of the commander of the faithful. From the Pyrenees, Abderame moved swiftly to the crossing of the Rhone and the siege of Arles. An army of Christians attempted to relieve the city: the burial sites of their leaders remained visible in the thirteenth century, and many thousands of their dead were washed down the rushing river into the Mediterranean Sea. Abderame's forces were equally successful on the ocean side. He crossed the Garonne and Dordogne without resistance, as the two rivers joined in the Gulf of Bordeaux; but beyond those rivers, he encountered the camp of the fearless Eudes, who had rallied a second army and faced a second defeat so devastating to the Christians that, in their sorrowful acknowledgment, only God could count the dead. The victorious Saracen swept through the provinces of Aquitaine, whose Gallic names have transformed, rather than vanished, into the modern names of Perigord, Saintonge, and Poitou: his flags were planted on the walls, or at least in front of the gates, of Tours and Sens; and his detachments spread across the kingdom of Burgundy as far as the well-known cities of Lyons and Besançon. The memory of these devastations (for Abderame did not spare the land or the people) was long remembered through tradition; and the invasion of France by the Moors or Muslims provided the foundation for those tales that have been wildly distorted in the romances of chivalry and elegantly embellished by the Italian muse. As society and art declined, the abandoned cities could offer only a meager loot to the Saracens; their richest spoils came from the churches and monasteries, which they stripped of their valuables and set ablaze: and the patron saints, both Hilary of Poitiers and Martin of Tours, seemed to forget their miraculous powers in defending their own tombs. A victorious route had stretched over a thousand miles from the rock of Gibraltar to the banks of the Loire; repeating that distance would have taken the Saracens to the borders of Poland and the Highlands of Scotland; the Rhine is not more unpassable than the Nile or Euphrates, and the Arabian fleet could have sailed effortlessly into the Thames without facing a naval battle. Perhaps the teachings of the Koran would be taught in the schools of Oxford now, and its pulpits might preach to a circumcised people the holiness and truth of Muhammad's revelation.

From such calamities was Christendom delivered by the genius and fortune of one man. Charles, the illegitimate son of the elder Pepin, was content with the titles of mayor or duke of the Franks; but he deserved to become the father of a line of kings. In a laborious administration of twenty-four years, he restored and supported the dignity of the throne, and the rebels of Germany and Gaul were successively crushed by the activity of a warrior, who, in the same campaign, could display his banner on the Elbe, the Rhone, and the shores of the ocean. In the public danger he was summoned by the voice of his country; and his rival, the duke of Aquitain, was reduced to appear among the fugitives and suppliants. "Alas!" exclaimed the Franks, "what a misfortune! what an indignity! We have long heard of the name and conquests of the Arabs: we were apprehensive of their attack from the East; they have now conquered Spain, and invade our country on the side of the West. Yet their numbers, and (since they have no buckler) their arms, are inferior to our own." "If you follow my advice," replied the prudent mayor of the palace, "you will not interrupt their march, nor precipitate your attack. They are like a torrent, which it is dangerous to stem in its career. The thirst of riches, and the consciousness of success, redouble their valor, and valor is of more avail than arms or numbers. Be patient till they have loaded themselves with the encumbrance of wealth. The possession of wealth will divide their councils and assure your victory." This subtile policy is perhaps a refinement of the Arabian writers; and the situation of Charles will suggest a more narrow and selfish motive of procrastination—the secret desire of humbling the pride and wasting the provinces of the rebel duke of Aquitain. It is yet more probable, that the delays of Charles were inevitable and reluctant. A standing army was unknown under the first and second race; more than half the kingdom was now in the hands of the Saracens: according to their respective situation, the Franks of Neustria and Austrasia were to conscious or too careless of the impending danger; and the voluntary aids of the Gepidæ and Germans were separated by a long interval from the standard of the Christian general. No sooner had he collected his forces, than he sought and found the enemy in the centre of France, between Tours and Poitiers. His well-conducted march was covered with a range of hills, and Abderame appears to have been surprised by his unexpected presence. The nations of Asia, Africa, and Europe, advanced with equal ardor to an encounter which would change the history of the world. In the six first days of desultory combat, the horsemen and archers of the East maintained their advantage: but in the closer onset of the seventh day, the Orientals were oppressed by the strength and stature of the Germans, who, with stout hearts and iron hands, asserted the civil and religious freedom of their posterity. The epithet of Martel, the Hammer, which has been added to the name of Charles, is expressive of his weighty and irresistible strokes: the valor of Eudes was excited by resentment and emulation; and their companions, in the eye of history, are the true Peers and Paladins of French chivalry. After a bloody field, in which Abderame was slain, the Saracens, in the close of the evening, retired to their camp. In the disorder and despair of the night, the various tribes of Yemen and Damascus, of Africa and Spain, were provoked to turn their arms against each other: the remains of their host were suddenly dissolved, and each emir consulted his safety by a hasty and separate retreat. At the dawn of the day, the stillness of a hostile camp was suspected by the victorious Christians: on the report of their spies, they ventured to explore the riches of the vacant tents; but if we except some celebrated relics, a small portion of the spoil was restored to the innocent and lawful owners. The joyful tidings were soon diffused over the Catholic world, and the monks of Italy could affirm and believe that three hundred and fifty, or three hundred and seventy-five, thousand of the Mahometans had been crushed by the hammer of Charles, while no more than fifteen hundred Christians were slain in the field of Tours. But this incredible tale is sufficiently disproved by the caution of the French general, who apprehended the snares and accidents of a pursuit, and dismissed his German allies to their native forests. The inactivity of a conqueror betrays the loss of strength and blood, and the most cruel execution is inflicted, not in the ranks of battle, but on the backs of a flying enemy. Yet the victory of the Franks was complete and final; Aquitain was recovered by the arms of Eudes; the Arabs never resumed the conquest of Gaul, and they were soon driven beyond the Pyrenees by Charles Martel and his valiant race. It might have been expected that the savior of Christendom would have been canonized, or at least applauded, by the gratitude of the clergy, who are indebted to his sword for their present existence. But in the public distress, the mayor of the palace had been compelled to apply the riches, or at least the revenues, of the bishops and abbots, to the relief of the state and the reward of the soldiers. His merits were forgotten, his sacrilege alone was remembered, and, in an epistle to a Carlovingian prince, a Gallic synod presumes to declare that his ancestor was damned; that on the opening of his tomb, the spectators were affrighted by a smell of fire and the aspect of a horrid dragon; and that a saint of the times was indulged with a pleasant vision of the soul and body of Charles Martel, burning, to all eternity, in the abyss of hell.

From such disasters was Christendom saved by the brilliance and fortune of one man. Charles, the illegitimate son of the older Pepin, was satisfied with the titles of mayor or duke of the Franks, but he deserved to be the father of a line of kings. In a demanding administration lasting twenty-four years, he restored and upheld the dignity of the throne, and the rebels in Germany and Gaul were successively defeated by the energy of a warrior who, in the same campaign, could display his banner on the Elbe, the Rhone, and the ocean shores. In the face of public danger, he was called upon by his country; his rival, the duke of Aquitaine, was forced to join the ranks of the fugitives and supplicants. "Alas!" cried the Franks, "what a tragedy! What an indignity! We've long heard of the name and victories of the Arabs; we were worried about their attack from the East. They've now conquered Spain and are invading our land from the West. Yet their numbers and, since they lack shields, their weapons are inferior to ours." "If you take my advice," replied the wise mayor of the palace, "don't disrupt their march or rush your attack. They're like a torrent that’s dangerous to block. The desire for wealth and the knowledge of their success only increase their courage, and courage is more effective than weapons or numbers. Be patient until they’ve burdened themselves with the weight of wealth. Their possession of riches will split their plans and ensure your victory." This clever strategy might be a refinement found in Arabian writings; however, Charles's situation might imply a more selfish motive for delaying—his secret ambition to humble the pride and weaken the territories of the rebel duke of Aquitaine. It's likely that Charles’s delays were both inevitable and reluctant. A standing army was unheard of during the first and second dynasties; more than half the kingdom was now under Saracen control. Depending on their respective situations, the Franks of Neustria and Austrasia were either too aware or too indifferent to the looming danger. The voluntary support from the Gepids and Germans was far removed from the standards of the Christian general. No sooner had he gathered his forces than he found the enemy in the center of France, between Tours and Poitiers. His well-planned march was shielded by a range of hills, and Abderame seemed to be caught off guard by his unexpected arrival. The nations of Asia, Africa, and Europe advanced equally eager for a confrontation that would alter world history. In the first six days of scattered combat, the cavalry and archers of the East held the advantage, but in the closer clash on the seventh day, the Orientals were overwhelmed by the strength and size of the Germans, who, with fierce hearts and iron hands, fought for the civil and religious freedom of their descendants. The title of Martel, meaning Hammer, that has been added to Charles's name illustrates his powerful and unyielding strikes. Eudes's bravery was fueled by anger and rivalry, and their comrades, in the eyes of history, are the true Peers and Paladins of French knighthood. After a bloody battle, in which Abderame was slain, the Saracens retreated to their camp at dusk. In the chaos and despair of the night, the various tribes from Yemen and Damascus, from Africa and Spain, were provoked into turning their weapons against one another; the remnants of their host quickly dissolved, and each emir sought safety through a hurried and separate retreat. At dawn, the victorious Christians suspected the silence in the enemy camp; on the report of their scouts, they ventured to look for treasures in the empty tents, but aside from a few famous relics, a small portion of the spoils was returned to their rightful owners. The happy news quickly spread across the Catholic world, and the monks of Italy could confidently claim that three hundred and fifty, or even three hundred and seventy-five thousand, Muslims had been defeated by Charles the Hammer, while only about fifteen hundred Christians fell on the field of Tours. But this incredible tale is contradicted by the prudence of the French general, who anticipated the traps and incidents of a pursuit and sent his German allies back to their native forests. The inactivity of a conqueror reveals the loss of strength and lives, and the cruelest punishment is inflicted not in the heat of battle but on the backs of a fleeing enemy. Yet the victory of the Franks was complete and conclusive; Aquitaine was reclaimed by Eudes's forces; the Arabs never advanced into Gaul again, and they were soon driven beyond the Pyrenees by Charles Martel and his brave lineage. It might have been expected that the savior of Christendom would have been canonized, or at least praised, by the church's gratitude, who owe their current existence to his sword. However, in the public crisis, the mayor of the palace was forced to utilize the wealth, or at least the revenues, of the bishops and abbots to support the state and reward the soldiers. His achievements were forgotten; only his sacrilege was remembered, and in a letter to a Carlovingian prince, a Gallic synod dared to declare that his ancestor was condemned; that when his tomb was opened, onlookers were terrified by a smell of fire and the sight of a dreadful dragon; and that a saint from the time was granted a pleasant vision of the soul and body of Charles Martel, burning eternally in the depths of hell.

The loss of an army, or a province, in the Western world, was less painful to the court of Damascus, than the rise and progress of a domestic competitor. Except among the Syrians, the caliphs of the house of Ommiyah had never been the objects of the public favor. The life of Mahomet recorded their perseverance in idolatry and rebellion: their conversion had been reluctant, their elevation irregular and factious, and their throne was cemented with the most holy and noble blood of Arabia. The best of their race, the pious Omar, was dissatisfied with his own title: their personal virtues were insufficient to justify a departure from the order of succession; and the eyes and wishes of the faithful were turned towards the line of Hashem, and the kindred of the apostle of God. Of these the Fatimites were either rash or pusillanimous; but the descendants of Abbas cherished, with courage and discretion, the hopes of their rising fortunes. From an obscure residence in Syria, they secretly despatched their agents and missionaries, who preached in the Eastern provinces their hereditary indefeasible right; and Mohammed, the son of Ali, the son of Abdallah, the son of Abbas, the uncle of the prophet, gave audience to the deputies of Chorasan, and accepted their free gift of four hundred thousand pieces of gold. After the death of Mohammed, the oath of allegiance was administered in the name of his son Ibrahim to a numerous band of votaries, who expected only a signal and a leader; and the governor of Chorasan continued to deplore his fruitless admonitions and the deadly slumber of the caliphs of Damascus, till he himself, with all his adherents, was driven from the city and palace of Meru, by the rebellious arms of Abu Moslem. That maker of kings, the author, as he is named, of the call of the Abbassides, was at length rewarded for his presumption of merit with the usual gratitude of courts. A mean, perhaps a foreign, extraction could not repress the aspiring energy of Abu Moslem. Jealous of his wives, liberal of his wealth, prodigal of his own blood and of that of others, he could boast with pleasure, and possibly with truth, that he had destroyed six hundred thousand of his enemies; and such was the intrepid gravity of his mind and countenance, that he was never seen to smile except on a day of battle. In the visible separation of parties, the green was consecrated to the Fatimites; the Ommiades were distinguished by the white; and the black, as the most adverse, was naturally adopted by the Abbassides. Their turbans and garments were stained with that gloomy color: two black standards, on pike staves nine cubits long, were borne aloft in the van of Abu Moslem; and their allegorical names of the night and the shadow obscurely represented the indissoluble union and perpetual succession of the line of Hashem. From the Indus to the Euphrates, the East was convulsed by the quarrel of the white and the black factions: the Abbassides were most frequently victorious; but their public success was clouded by the personal misfortune of their chief. The court of Damascus, awakening from a long slumber, resolved to prevent the pilgrimage of Mecca, which Ibrahim had undertaken with a splendid retinue, to recommend himself at once to the favor of the prophet and of the people. A detachment of cavalry intercepted his march and arrested his person; and the unhappy Ibrahim, snatched away from the promise of untasted royalty, expired in iron fetters in the dungeons of Haran. His two younger brothers, Saffah * and Almansor, eluded the search of the tyrant, and lay concealed at Cufa, till the zeal of the people and the approach of his Eastern friends allowed them to expose their persons to the impatient public. On Friday, in the dress of a caliph, in the colors of the sect, Saffah proceeded with religious and military pomp to the mosch: ascending the pulpit, he prayed and preached as the lawful successor of Mahomet; and after his departure, his kinsmen bound a willing people by an oath of fidelity. But it was on the banks of the Zab, and not in the mosch of Cufa, that this important controversy was determined. Every advantage appeared to be on the side of the white faction: the authority of established government; an army of a hundred and twenty thousand soldiers, against a sixth part of that number; and the presence and merit of the caliph Mervan, the fourteenth and last of the house of Ommiyah. Before his accession to the throne, he had deserved, by his Georgian warfare, the honorable epithet of the ass of Mesopotamia; and he might have been ranked amongst the greatest princes, had not, says Abulfeda, the eternal order decreed that moment for the ruin of his family; a decree against which all human fortitude and prudence must struggle in vain. The orders of Mervan were mistaken, or disobeyed: the return of his horse, from which he had dismounted on a necessary occasion, impressed the belief of his death; and the enthusiasm of the black squadrons was ably conducted by Abdallah, the uncle of his competitor. After an irretrievable defeat, the caliph escaped to Mosul; but the colors of the Abbassides were displayed from the rampart; he suddenly repassed the Tigris, cast a melancholy look on his palace of Haran, crossed the Euphrates, abandoned the fortifications of Damascus, and, without halting in Palestine, pitched his last and fatal camp at Busir, on the banks of the Nile. His speed was urged by the incessant diligence of Abdallah, who in every step of the pursuit acquired strength and reputation: the remains of the white faction were finally vanquished in Egypt; and the lance, which terminated the life and anxiety of Mervan, was not less welcome perhaps to the unfortunate than to the victorious chief. The merciless inquisition of the conqueror eradicated the most distant branches of the hostile race: their bones were scattered, their memory was accursed, and the martyrdom of Hossein was abundantly revenged on the posterity of his tyrants. Fourscore of the Ommiades, who had yielded to the faith or clemency of their foes, were invited to a banquet at Damascus. The laws of hospitality were violated by a promiscuous massacre: the board was spread over their fallen bodies; and the festivity of the guests was enlivened by the music of their dying groans. By the event of the civil war, the dynasty of the Abbassides was firmly established; but the Christians only could triumph in the mutual hatred and common loss of the disciples of Mahomet.

The loss of an army or a region in the Western world affected the court of Damascus less than the rise of a domestic rival. Besides among the Syrians, the caliphs from the house of Ommiyah never enjoyed public favor. The life of Muhammad chronicled their persistence in idolatry and rebellion: their conversion was reluctant, their rise was irregular and contentious, and their rule was solidified with the most noble blood of Arabia. The best among them, the devout Omar, was unhappy with his own title; their personal virtues couldn’t justify a break from the line of succession, and the loyal followers were focused on the family of Hashem and the kin of the prophet. The Fatimites were either reckless or timid; however, the descendants of Abbas held onto hopes for their future with both courage and wisdom. From a humble home in Syria, they secretly sent out agents and missionaries who preached their unquestionable hereditary right in the Eastern provinces. Mohammed, son of Ali, son of Abdallah, son of Abbas, the prophet’s uncle, met with the representatives from Chorasan and accepted their generous offer of four hundred thousand gold pieces. After Mohammed’s death, an oath of loyalty was given in his son Ibrahim's name to many followers who were just waiting for a signal and a leader; meanwhile, the governor of Chorasan lamented his unsuccessful warnings and the deep sleep of the caliphs in Damascus, until he was driven out of the city and palace of Meru by the rebellious Abu Moslem. That creator of kings, often called the author of the call of the Abbassides, was eventually rewarded for his ambition with the usual gratitude of courts. His humble, possibly foreign background couldn’t suppress the ambition of Abu Moslem. Jealous of his wives, generous with his wealth, reckless with his own blood and others', he could proudly claim, perhaps truthfully, that he’d killed six hundred thousand enemies. His serious demeanor was so intense that he was rarely seen smiling except on the battlefield. Among the visible division of factions, the green represented the Fatimites, the white was for the Ommiyahs, and the black was naturally adopted by the Abbassides as the most oppositional color. Their turbans and clothing were marked by that dark hue; two black banners, on nine-cubit-long pikes, were held high in front of Abu Moslem, and their symbolic names, night and shadow, hinted at the unbreakable bond and ongoing succession of the Hashem lineage. From the Indus to the Euphrates, the East was shaken by the conflict between the white and black factions: the Abbassides often emerged victorious, but their public success was overshadowed by their leader’s personal setbacks. The court of Damascus, roused from a long slumber, aimed to stop Ibrahim’s pilgrimage to Mecca, which he intended to undertake with a grand entourage to win over the favor of the prophet and the people. A cavalry unit intercepted his march and captured him; the unfortunate Ibrahim, torn from the promise of royal grandeur, died in chains in the dungeons of Haran. His two younger brothers, Saffah and Almansor, avoided the tyrant's search and hid in Cufa until the people's enthusiasm and the arrival of their Eastern allies gave them the chance to reveal themselves to the eager crowd. On a Friday, dressed as a caliph and in the colors of the sect, Saffah entered the mosque with religious and military grandeur: he ascended the pulpit and prayed and preached as the rightful successor of Muhammad; after he left, his relatives bound the willing crowd with an oath of loyalty. But it was on the banks of the Zab, not in the mosque of Cufa, that this crucial dispute was resolved. Every advantage seemed to favor the white faction: the authority of the established government, an army of 120,000 soldiers against only a sixth of that for the other side, and the presence and merit of Caliph Mervan, the fourteenth and final Ommiyad ruler. Before becoming caliph, he earned the respectful nickname "the ass of Mesopotamia" due to his battles in Georgia; and he could have been one of the greatest princes had it not been for, as Abulfeda notes, the predetermined fate that marked the downfall of his family, a fate against which no human strength or wisdom can ultimately prevail. Mervan's orders were either misunderstood or ignored: when his horse returned without him after he dismounted briefly, people thought he was dead; meanwhile, the enthusiasm of the black troops was effectively led by Abdallah, the uncle of his rival. After a devastating defeat, the caliph fled to Mosul; but the Abbassides' colors were raised from the ramparts. He swiftly crossed back over the Tigris, cast a sorrowful glance at his palace in Haran, crossed the Euphrates, abandoned the fortifications in Damascus, and, without stopping in Palestine, set up his last and doomed camp in Busir, along the Nile. His haste was driven by the relentless pursuit of Abdallah, who gained strength and reputation with each step he took towards him: the remnants of the white faction were ultimately defeated in Egypt; and the spear that ended Mervan's life and troubles was likely welcomed by both the unfortunate and the victorious leader. The merciless hunt by the conqueror wiped out the farthest branches of the rival family: their remains were scattered, their legacy cursed, and the martyrdom of Hossein was thoroughly avenged on his oppressors' descendants. Eighty of the Ommiyads, who had submitted to the mercy of their foes, were invited to a banquet in Damascus. The rules of hospitality were shattered by a chaotic massacre: the table was set over their fallen bodies, and the celebration for the guests was uplifted by the sounds of their dying cries. As a result of the civil war, the Abbassides' dynasty was firmly established; but it was only the Christians who could rejoice in the mutual animosity and shared losses of Muhammad's followers.

Yet the thousands who were swept away by the sword of war might have been speedily retrieved in the succeeding generation, if the consequences of the revolution had not tended to dissolve the power and unity of the empire of the Saracens. In the proscription of the Ommiades, a royal youth of the name of Abdalrahman alone escaped the rage of his enemies, who hunted the wandering exile from the banks of the Euphrates to the valleys of Mount Atlas. His presence in the neighborhood of Spain revived the zeal of the white faction. The name and cause of the Abbassides had been first vindicated by the Persians: the West had been pure from civil arms; and the servants of the abdicated family still held, by a precarious tenure, the inheritance of their lands and the offices of government. Strongly prompted by gratitude, indignation, and fear, they invited the grandson of the caliph Hashem to ascend the throne of his ancestors; and, in his desperate condition, the extremes of rashness and prudence were almost the same. The acclamations of the people saluted his landing on the coast of Andalusia: and, after a successful struggle, Abdalrahman established the throne of Cordova, and was the father of the Ommiades of Spain, who reigned above two hundred and fifty years from the Atlantic to the Pyrenees. He slew in battle a lieutenant of the Abbassides, who had invaded his dominions with a fleet and army: the head of Ala, in salt and camphire, was suspended by a daring messenger before the palace of Mecca; and the caliph Almansor rejoiced in his safety, that he was removed by seas and lands from such a formidable adversary. Their mutual designs or declarations of offensive war evaporated without effect; but instead of opening a door to the conquest of Europe, Spain was dissevered from the trunk of the monarchy, engaged in perpetual hostility with the East, and inclined to peace and friendship with the Christian sovereigns of Constantinople and France. The example of the Ommiades was imitated by the real or fictitious progeny of Ali, the Edrissites of Mauritania, and the more powerful Fatimites of Africa and Egypt. In the tenth century, the chair of Mahomet was disputed by three caliphs or commanders of the faithful, who reigned at Bagdad, Cairoan, and Cordova, excommunicating each other, and agreed only in a principle of discord, that a sectary is more odious and criminal than an unbeliever.

Yet the thousands who were taken by the sword of war could have been quickly reclaimed in the next generation if the aftermath of the revolution hadn't weakened the power and unity of the Saracen empire. In the purge of the Ommiades, only a royal youth named Abdalrahman managed to escape the fury of his enemies, who chased the wandering exile from the banks of the Euphrates to the valleys of Mount Atlas. His presence near Spain reignited the passion of the white faction. The Persian supporters were the first to restore the name and cause of the Abbassides: the West had remained free from civil conflict; and the loyalists of the overthrown family still held, precariously, onto their lands and governmental positions. Driven by gratitude, anger, and fear, they invited the grandson of Caliph Hashem to take the throne of his ancestors; and in his desperate situation, the extremes of recklessness and caution were nearly indistinguishable. The cheers of the people welcomed his arrival on the coast of Andalusia, and after a successful battle, Abdalrahman established the throne of Cordoba, becoming the founder of the Ommiades of Spain, who reigned for over two hundred and fifty years from the Atlantic to the Pyrenees. He defeated a lieutenant of the Abbassides who had invaded his territory with a fleet and army: the head of Ala, preserved in salt and camphor, was displayed by a bold messenger in front of the palace of Mecca; and Caliph Almansor was relieved that he was separated by seas and lands from such a formidable foe. Their mutual plans or declarations of war fell through without action; instead of paving the way for conquering Europe, Spain was cut off from the main monarchy, engaged in constant conflict with the East, and leaning towards peace and friendship with the Christian rulers of Constantinople and France. The example of the Ommiades was followed by either real or pretended descendants of Ali, the Edrissites of Mauritania, and the more powerful Fatimites of Africa and Egypt. In the tenth century, the position of Muhammad was contested by three caliphs or leaders of the faithful, who ruled from Baghdad, Cairo, and Cordoba, excommunicating each other, and only agreeing on a principle of division: that a sectarian is more detestable and guilty than an unbeliever.

Mecca was the patrimony of the line of Hashem, yet the Abbassides were never tempted to reside either in the birthplace or the city of the prophet. Damascus was disgraced by the choice, and polluted with the blood, of the Ommiades; and, after some hesitation, Almansor, the brother and successor of Saffah, laid the foundations of Bagdad, the Imperial seat of his posterity during a reign of five hundred years. The chosen spot is on the eastern bank of the Tigris, about fifteen miles above the ruins of Modain: the double wall was of a circular form; and such was the rapid increase of a capital, now dwindled to a provincial town, that the funeral of a popular saint might be attended by eight hundred thousand men and sixty thousand women of Bagdad and the adjacent villages. In this city of peace, amidst the riches of the East, the Abbassides soon disdained the abstinence and frugality of the first caliphs, and aspired to emulate the magnificence of the Persian kings. After his wars and buildings, Almansor left behind him in gold and silver about thirty millions sterling: and this treasure was exhausted in a few years by the vices or virtues of his children. His son Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of dinars of gold. A pious and charitable motive may sanctify the foundation of cisterns and caravanseras, which he distributed along a measured road of seven hundred miles; but his train of camels, laden with snow, could serve only to astonish the natives of Arabia, and to refresh the fruits and liquors of the royal banquet. The courtiers would surely praise the liberality of his grandson Almamon, who gave away four fifths of the income of a province, a sum of two millions four hundred thousand gold dinars, before he drew his foot from the stirrup. At the nuptials of the same prince, a thousand pearls of the largest size were showered on the head of the bride, and a lottery of lands and houses displayed the capricious bounty of fortune. The glories of the court were brightened, rather than impaired, in the decline of the empire, and a Greek ambassador might admire, or pity, the magnificence of the feeble Moctader. "The caliph's whole army," says the historian Abulfeda, "both horse and foot, was under arms, which together made a body of one hundred and sixty thousand men. His state officers, the favorite slaves, stood near him in splendid apparel, their belts glittering with gold and gems. Near them were seven thousand eunuchs, four thousand of them white, the remainder black. The porters or door-keepers were in number seven hundred. Barges and boats, with the most superb decorations, were seen swimming upon the Tigris. Nor was the palace itself less splendid, in which were hung up thirty-eight thousand pieces of tapestry, twelve thousand five hundred of which were of silk embroidered with gold. The carpets on the floor were twenty-two thousand. A hundred lions were brought out, with a keeper to each lion. Among the other spectacles of rare and stupendous luxury was a tree of gold and silver spreading into eighteen large branches, on which, and on the lesser boughs, sat a variety of birds made of the same precious metals, as well as the leaves of the tree. While the machinery affected spontaneous motions, the several birds warbled their natural harmony. Through this scene of magnificence, the Greek ambassador was led by the vizier to the foot of the caliph's throne." In the West, the Ommiades of Spain supported, with equal pomp, the title of commander of the faithful. Three miles from Cordova, in honor of his favorite sultana, the third and greatest of the Abdalrahmans constructed the city, palace, and gardens of Zehra. Twenty-five years, and above three millions sterling, were employed by the founder: his liberal taste invited the artists of Constantinople, the most skilful sculptors and architects of the age; and the buildings were sustained or adorned by twelve hundred columns of Spanish and African, of Greek and Italian marble. The hall of audience was incrusted with gold and pearls, and a great basin in the centre was surrounded with the curious and costly figures of birds and quadrupeds. In a lofty pavilion of the gardens, one of these basins and fountains, so delightful in a sultry climate, was replenished not with water, but with the purest quicksilver. The seraglio of Abdalrahman, his wives, concubines, and black eunuchs, amounted to six thousand three hundred persons: and he was attended to the field by a guard of twelve thousand horse, whose belts and cimeters were studded with gold.

Mecca was the heritage of the Hashem family, yet the Abbasids were never tempted to live in the birthplace or the city of the prophet. Damascus suffered from the choice and the violence of the Umayyads; and after some indecision, Al-Mansur, the brother and successor of al-Saffah, established Baghdad, which would be the imperial seat of his descendants for five hundred years. The selected location is on the eastern bank of the Tigris, about fifteen miles upstream from the ruins of Modain: the double wall was circular; and the rapid growth of a capital, now reduced to a provincial town, meant that the funeral of a popular saint might attract eight hundred thousand men and sixty thousand women from Baghdad and nearby villages. In this city of peace, surrounded by the wealth of the East, the Abbasids soon turned away from the simplicity and frugality of the first caliphs, aiming instead to match the opulence of the Persian kings. After his military campaigns and constructions, Al-Mansur left behind him about thirty million pounds in gold and silver, a fortune that quickly diminished due to the behavior of his children, whether good or bad. His son Al-Mahdi spent six million gold dinars on a single pilgrimage to Mecca. While a pious and charitable intention might justify the construction of cisterns and caravanserais along a measured road of seven hundred miles, the line of camels carrying snow was merely meant to impress the locals of Arabia and to cool the fruits and drinks served at royal feasts. The courtiers would undoubtedly praise the generosity of his grandson Al-Ma'mun, who gave away four-fifths of a province's income, amounting to two million four hundred thousand gold dinars, before even dismounting. At the wedding of the same prince, a thousand of the largest pearls were showered on the bride's head, and a lottery of lands and houses showcased the unpredictable generosity of fortune. The splendor of the court only grew, rather than diminished, during the decline of the empire, and a Greek ambassador might either admire or feel sorry for the lavishness of the weak al-Muqtafi. "The caliph's entire army," says the historian Abulfeda, "both cavalry and infantry, was mobilized, totaling one hundred and sixty thousand men. His state officials and favorite slaves were nearby in striking outfits, their belts sparkling with gold and gems. Close to them were seven thousand eunuchs, four thousand of whom were white, and the rest black. The porters or door-keepers numbered seven hundred. Ornately decorated barges and boats were seen sailing on the Tigris. The palace itself was no less splendid, adorned with thirty-eight thousand pieces of tapestry, twelve thousand five hundred of which were silk embroidered with gold. The carpets on the floor were twenty-two thousand in number. A hundred lions were displayed, each with its own keeper. Among the other extravagant sights was a tree made of gold and silver, reaching out with eighteen large branches, on which sat various birds crafted from the same precious metals, including the leaves. The machinery created automatic movements, allowing the birds to sing their natural melodies. Through this display of grandeur, the Greek ambassador was escorted by the vizier to the foot of the caliph's throne." In the West, the Umayyads of Spain upheld, with equal splendor, the title of commander of the faithful. Three miles from Cordoba, in honor of his favorite sultana, the third and greatest of the Abdalrahman lineage built the city, palace, and gardens of Azahara. It took twenty-five years and over three million pounds for the founder to complete it: his generous vision attracted artists from Constantinople, the most skilled sculptors and architects of the era, and the structures were supported or embellished by twelve hundred columns made from Spanish and African, Greek and Italian marble. The audience hall was adorned with gold and pearls, and a large basin in the center was surrounded by intricate and costly sculptures of birds and animals. In a grand pavilion of the gardens, one of these basins and fountains, so refreshing in a hot climate, was filled not with water, but with pure quicksilver. Abdalrahman's household, including his wives, concubines, and black eunuchs, totaled six thousand three hundred people; he was accompanied into battle by a guard of twelve thousand cavalry, whose belts and scimitars were studded with gold.





Chapter LII: More Conquests By The Arabs.—Part III.

In a private condition, our desires are perpetually repressed by poverty and subordination; but the lives and labors of millions are devoted to the service of a despotic prince, whose laws are blindly obeyed, and whose wishes are instantly gratified. Our imagination is dazzled by the splendid picture; and whatever may be the cool dictates of reason, there are few among us who would obstinately refuse a trial of the comforts and the cares of royalty. It may therefore be of some use to borrow the experience of the same Abdalrahman, whose magnificence has perhaps excited our admiration and envy, and to transcribe an authentic memorial which was found in the closet of the deceased caliph. "I have now reigned above fifty years in victory or peace; beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honors, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation, I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to Fourteen:—O man! place not thy confidence in this present world!" The luxury of the caliphs, so useless to their private happiness, relaxed the nerves, and terminated the progress, of the Arabian empire. Temporal and spiritual conquest had been the sole occupation of the first successors of Mahomet; and after supplying themselves with the necessaries of life, the whole revenue was scrupulously devoted to that salutary work. The Abbassides were impoverished by the multitude of their wants, and their contempt of economy. Instead of pursuing the great object of ambition, their leisure, their affections, the powers of their mind, were diverted by pomp and pleasure: the rewards of valor were embezzled by women and eunuchs, and the royal camp was encumbered by the luxury of the palace. A similar temper was diffused among the subjects of the caliph. Their stern enthusiasm was softened by time and prosperity. They sought riches in the occupations of industry, fame in the pursuits of literature, and happiness in the tranquillity of domestic life. War was no longer the passion of the Saracens; and the increase of pay, the repetition of donatives, were insufficient to allure the posterity of those voluntary champions who had crowded to the standard of Abubeker and Omar for the hopes of spoil and of paradise.

In a private life, our desires are constantly held back by poverty and low status; meanwhile, the lives and efforts of millions are dedicated to serving a tyrannical ruler, whose laws are unquestioningly followed and whose wishes are quickly fulfilled. We are dazzled by the glamorous image; and no matter what reason tells us, few would stubbornly turn down a taste of the comforts and worries of royalty. It might be valuable to learn from the experience of Abdalrahman, whose opulence may inspire our admiration and jealousy, and to share an authentic note found in the closet of the late caliph. "I have now ruled for over fifty years in victory or peace; loved by my people, feared by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Wealth and honor, power and pleasure, have always been at my fingertips, and no earthly blessing seems to have been missing from my happiness. In this situation, I have carefully counted the days of pure and genuine happiness that I have experienced: they total Fourteen:—O man! do not place your trust in this present world!" The luxury of the caliphs, which did little for their personal happiness, weakened their resolve and brought an end to the progress of the Arabian empire. The first successors of Mahomet focused solely on temporal and spiritual conquests, and after ensuring they had what they needed to survive, all their revenue was carefully dedicated to that important task. The Abbassides were drained by their endless needs and their disregard for frugality. Instead of pursuing their lofty ambitions, their free time, affections, and mental energies were redirected towards extravagance and enjoyment: the rewards for bravery were misappropriated by women and eunuchs, and the royal camp was burdened by the luxury of the palace. A similar mindset spread among the subjects of the caliph. Their intense enthusiasm softened over time and with prosperity. They sought wealth through industrious pursuits, fame through literature, and happiness in the calm of family life. War was no longer the driving force for the Saracens; and increases in pay and repeated gifts were not enough to entice the descendants of those brave fighters who had flocked to the banners of Abubeker and Omar, driven by the hope of spoils and paradise.

Under the reign of the Ommiades, the studies of the Moslems were confined to the interpretation of the Koran, and the eloquence and poetry of their native tongue. A people continually exposed to the dangers of the field must esteem the healing powers of medicine, or rather of surgery; but the starving physicians of Arabia murmured a complaint that exercise and temperance deprived them of the greatest part of their practice. After their civil and domestic wars, the subjects of the Abbassides, awakening from this mental lethargy, found leisure and felt curiosity for the acquisition of profane science. This spirit was first encouraged by the caliph Almansor, who, besides his knowledge of the Mahometan law, had applied himself with success to the study of astronomy. But when the sceptre devolved to Almamon, the seventh of the Abbassides, he completed the designs of his grandfather, and invited the muses from their ancient seats. His ambassadors at Constantinople, his agents in Armenia, Syria, and Egypt, collected the volumes of Grecian science; at his command they were translated by the most skilful interpreters into the Arabic language: his subjects were exhorted assiduously to peruse these instructive writings; and the successor of Mahomet assisted with pleasure and modesty at the assemblies and disputations of the learned. "He was not ignorant," says Abulpharagius, "that they are the elect of God, his best and most useful servants, whose lives are devoted to the improvement of their rational faculties. The mean ambition of the Chinese or the Turks may glory in the industry of their hands or the indulgence of their brutal appetites. Yet these dexterous artists must view, with hopeless emulation, the hexagons and pyramids of the cells of a beehive: these fortitudinous heroes are awed by the superior fierceness of the lions and tigers; and in their amorous enjoyments they are much inferior to the vigor of the grossest and most sordid quadrupeds. The teachers of wisdom are the true luminaries and legislators of a world, which, without their aid, would again sink in ignorance and barbarism." The zeal and curiosity of Almamon were imitated by succeeding princes of the line of Abbas: their rivals, the Fatimites of Africa and the Ommiades of Spain, were the patrons of the learned, as well as the commanders of the faithful; the same royal prerogative was claimed by their independent emirs of the provinces; and their emulation diffused the taste and the rewards of science from Samarcand and Bochara to Fez and Cordova. The vizier of a sultan consecrated a sum of two hundred thousand pieces of gold to the foundation of a college at Bagdad, which he endowed with an annual revenue of fifteen thousand dinars. The fruits of instruction were communicated, perhaps at different times, to six thousand disciples of every degree, from the son of the noble to that of the mechanic: a sufficient allowance was provided for the indigent scholars; and the merit or industry of the professors was repaid with adequate stipends. In every city the productions of Arabic literature were copied and collected by the curiosity of the studious and the vanity of the rich. A private doctor refused the invitation of the sultan of Bochara, because the carriage of his books would have required four hundred camels. The royal library of the Fatimites consisted of one hundred thousand manuscripts, elegantly transcribed and splendidly bound, which were lent, without jealousy or avarice, to the students of Cairo. Yet this collection must appear moderate, if we can believe that the Ommiades of Spain had formed a library of six hundred thousand volumes, forty-four of which were employed in the mere catalogue. Their capital, Cordova, with the adjacent towns of Malaga, Almeria, and Murcia, had given birth to more than three hundred writers, and above seventy public libraries were opened in the cities of the Andalusian kingdom. The age of Arabian learning continued about five hundred years, till the great eruption of the Moguls, and was coeval with the darkest and most slothful period of European annals; but since the sun of science has arisen in the West, it should seem that the Oriental studies have languished and declined.

Under the rule of the Ommiades, Muslims focused their studies mainly on interpreting the Koran and the eloquence and poetry of their native language. A people frequently facing the dangers of battle must value the healing aspects of medicine, particularly surgery; however, the struggling doctors of Arabia complained that exercise and a healthy lifestyle limited their practice. After their civil and domestic conflicts, the subjects of the Abbassides, emerging from this intellectual stagnation, found time and interest in learning worldly sciences. This newfound curiosity was first encouraged by Caliph Almansor, who, besides understanding Islamic law, successfully studied astronomy. When the leadership passed to Almamon, the seventh of the Abbassides, he continued his grandfather’s vision and welcomed knowledge from its ancient sources. His ambassadors in Constantinople, along with agents in Armenia, Syria, and Egypt, gathered essential Greek texts; at his request, these works were translated into Arabic by the best interpreters. He urged his people to diligently read these valuable writings; the successor of Muhammad modestly participated in discussions and debates among scholars. "He was not unaware," notes Abulpharagius, "that they are the chosen of God, his best and most helpful servants, dedicated to advancing their intellect. The petty ambitions of the Chinese or Turks may boast of their labor or indulge in their base desires. Yet, these skilled artisans must view, with envy, the hexagons and pyramids of a beehive; these brave warriors are intimidated by the fierceness of lions and tigers; and in their romantic pursuits, they are far outdone by the strength of the most basic animals. The true educators are the light and lawgivers of a world that, without their influence, would regress into ignorance and barbarism." Almamon’s passion and curiosity were emulated by subsequent Abbasid princes: their rivals, the Fatimites from Africa and the Ommiades from Spain, also supported scholars and led the faithful; the same royal privilege was claimed by their independent provincial emirs; and their competition spread the appreciation and rewards of knowledge from Samarcand and Bukhara to Fez and Cordoba. The vizier of a sultan allocated two hundred thousand gold coins for establishing a college in Baghdad, which he funded with an annual income of fifteen thousand dinars. The benefits of education were shared, perhaps at different intervals, among six thousand students of all backgrounds, from noblemen’s sons to those of laborers: sufficient support was given to needy scholars, and the dedication of the professors was honored with fair salaries. In every city, the works of Arabic literature were copied and collected through the curiosity of the studious and the vanity of the wealthy. One private doctor turned down an invitation from the sultan of Bukhara because transporting his books would require four hundred camels. The royal library of the Fatimites had one hundred thousand beautifully transcribed and splendidly bound manuscripts, which were freely lent to students in Cairo. However, this collection might seem modest when we consider that the Ommiades of Spain had built a library of six hundred thousand volumes, with forty-four devoted just to the catalog. Their capital, Cordoba, along with nearby towns like Malaga, Almeria, and Murcia, produced over three hundred writers, and more than seventy public libraries opened in the cities of the Andalusian kingdom. The era of Arabic learning lasted about five hundred years until the great invasion of the Mongols, coinciding with Europe’s darkest and most stagnant period; however, since the rise of science in the West, it seems that Eastern studies have diminished and declined.

In the libraries of the Arabians, as in those of Europe, the far greater part of the innumerable volumes were possessed only of local value or imaginary merit. The shelves were crowded with orators and poets, whose style was adapted to the taste and manners of their countrymen; with general and partial histories, which each revolving generation supplied with a new harvest of persons and events; with codes and commentaries of jurisprudence, which derived their authority from the law of the prophet; with the interpreters of the Koran, and orthodox tradition; and with the whole theological tribe, polemics, mystics, scholastics, and moralists, the first or the last of writers, according to the different estimates of sceptics or believers. The works of speculation or science may be reduced to the four classes of philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, and physic. The sages of Greece were translated and illustrated in the Arabic language, and some treatises, now lost in the original, have been recovered in the versions of the East, which possessed and studied the writings of Aristotle and Plato, of Euclid and Apollonius, of Ptolemy, Hippocrates, and Galen. Among the ideal systems which have varied with the fashion of the times, the Arabians adopted the philosophy of the Stagirite, alike intelligible or alike obscure for the readers of every age. Plato wrote for the Athenians, and his allegorical genius is too closely blended with the language and religion of Greece. After the fall of that religion, the Peripatetics, emerging from their obscurity, prevailed in the controversies of the Oriental sects, and their founder was long afterwards restored by the Mahometans of Spain to the Latin schools. The physics, both of the Academy and the Lycæum, as they are built, not on observation, but on argument, have retarded the progress of real knowledge. The metaphysics of infinite, or finite, spirit, have too often been enlisted in the service of superstition. But the human faculties are fortified by the art and practice of dialectics; the ten predicaments of Aristotle collect and methodize our ideas, and his syllogism is the keenest weapon of dispute. It was dexterously wielded in the schools of the Saracens, but as it is more effectual for the detection of error than for the investigation of truth, it is not surprising that new generations of masters and disciples should still revolve in the same circle of logical argument. The mathematics are distinguished by a peculiar privilege, that, in the course of ages, they may always advance, and can never recede. But the ancient geometry, if I am not misinformed, was resumed in the same state by the Italians of the fifteenth century; and whatever may be the origin of the name, the science of algebra is ascribed to the Grecian Diophantus by the modest testimony of the Arabs themselves. They cultivated with more success the sublime science of astronomy, which elevates the mind of man to disdain his diminutive planet and momentary existence. The costly instruments of observation were supplied by the caliph Almamon, and the land of the Chaldæans still afforded the same spacious level, the same unclouded horizon. In the plains of Sinaar, and a second time in those of Cufa, his mathematicians accurately measured a degree of the great circle of the earth, and determined at twenty-four thousand miles the entire circumference of our globe. From the reign of the Abbassides to that of the grandchildren of Tamerlane, the stars, without the aid of glasses, were diligently observed; and the astronomical tables of Bagdad, Spain, and Samarcand, correct some minute errors, without daring to renounce the hypothesis of Ptolemy, without advancing a step towards the discovery of the solar system. In the Eastern courts, the truths of science could be recommended only by ignorance and folly, and the astronomer would have been disregarded, had he not debased his wisdom or honesty by the vain predictions of astrology. But in the science of medicine, the Arabians have been deservedly applauded. The names of Mesua and Geber, of Razis and Avicenna, are ranked with the Grecian masters; in the city of Bagdad, eight hundred and sixty physicians were licensed to exercise their lucrative profession: in Spain, the life of the Catholic princes was intrusted to the skill of the Saracens, and the school of Salerno, their legitimate offspring, revived in Italy and Europe the precepts of the healing art. The success of each professor must have been influenced by personal and accidental causes; but we may form a less fanciful estimate of their general knowledge of anatomy, botany, and chemistry, the threefold basis of their theory and practice. A superstitious reverence for the dead confined both the Greeks and the Arabians to the dissection of apes and quadrupeds; the more solid and visible parts were known in the time of Galen, and the finer scrutiny of the human frame was reserved for the microscope and the injections of modern artists. Botany is an active science, and the discoveries of the torrid zone might enrich the herbal of Dioscorides with two thousand plants. Some traditionary knowledge might be secreted in the temples and monasteries of Egypt; much useful experience had been acquired in the practice of arts and manufactures; but the science of chemistry owes its origin and improvement to the industry of the Saracens. They first invented and named the alembic for the purposes of distillation, analyzed the substances of the three kingdoms of nature, tried the distinction and affinities of alcalis and acids, and converted the poisonous minerals into soft and salutary medicines. But the most eager search of Arabian chemistry was the transmutation of metals, and the elixir of immortal health: the reason and the fortunes of thousands were evaporated in the crucibles of alchemy, and the consummation of the great work was promoted by the worthy aid of mystery, fable, and superstition.

In the libraries of the Arab world, just like in those of Europe, most of the countless books held mostly local significance or imaginary value. The shelves were packed with speakers and poets whose styles were tailored to the tastes and customs of their fellow countrymen; with both general and specialized histories that each new generation updated with fresh faces and events; with legal codes and commentaries rooted in the law of the prophet; with interpreters of the Koran and traditional beliefs; and with the entire range of theologians—ranging from polemicists and mystics to scholastics and moralists, regarded as either the foremost or least significant authors based on the perspectives of skeptics or believers. The works of speculation or science can be classified into four categories: philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, and physics. The wisdom of Greece was translated and studied in Arabic, and some texts that are now lost in their original form have been preserved in Eastern versions, which studied the writings of Aristotle, Plato, Euclid, Apollonius, Ptolemy, Hippocrates, and Galen. Among the various philosophical systems that have changed with the times, the Arabs embraced the philosophy of Aristotle, which can be both clear and obscure for readers of any era. Plato wrote for the Athenians, and his allegorical style is deeply intertwined with the language and religion of Greece. After the decline of that religion, the Peripatetics, who emerged from obscurity, gained ground in debates among Eastern sects, and their founder was later revived by the Muslims of Spain in Latin schools. The physics from both the Academy and the Lyceum, built more on argument than observation, have slowed the advancement of real knowledge. The metaphysics of infinite and finite spirits have often been manipulated in the service of superstition. However, human reasoning has been strengthened by the art and practice of dialectics; Aristotle’s ten categories help organize our thoughts, and his syllogism is the sharpest tool for debate. It was skillfully used in the schools of the Saracens, but since it’s better suited for revealing errors than discovering truths, it’s no surprise that new generations of teachers and students continue to revolve around the same circle of logical reasoning. Mathematics stands out with a unique privilege: it can always progress and never regress. However, the ancient geometry, if I’m correct, was picked up again in the same state by the Italians of the fifteenth century; and regardless of the origin of the name, the science of algebra is attributed to the Greek Diophantus according to the humble acknowledgment of the Arabs themselves. They achieved greater success in the noble science of astronomy, which lifts mankind's thoughts above his tiny planet and fleeting existence. The expensive observational tools were provided by the caliph Almamon, and the land of the Chaldeans still had the same vast flatness and the same clear horizon. In the plains of Sinaar and again in Cufa, his mathematicians accurately measured a degree of the Earth’s circumference, determining it to be twenty-four thousand miles. From the time of the Abbasids to the reign of Tamerlane's grandchildren, stars were diligently observed without telescopes; the astronomical tables from Baghdad, Spain, and Samarkand corrected some minor errors without abandoning Ptolemy’s theories or taking steps toward discovering the solar system. In the Eastern courts, scientific truths could only be recommended by ignorance and folly, and astronomers would have been overlooked had they not sullied their knowledge or integrity with the vain predictions of astrology. However, in the field of medicine, the Arabs received well-deserved praise. The names of Mesua and Geber, Razis and Avicenna, are ranked alongside Greek masters; in Baghdad, eight hundred sixty physicians were licensed to practice their profitable profession: in Spain, the lives of the Catholic kings relied on the skills of the Saracens, and the school of Salerno, their legitimate successor, revived the principles of healing in Italy and Europe. The success of each professor was likely influenced by personal and circumstantial factors, but we can form a more realistic view of their general understanding of anatomy, botany, and chemistry—essential foundations of their theory and practice. A superstitious respect for the dead limited both the Greeks and Arabs to dissecting monkeys and four-legged animals; the more significant parts of the body were known during Galen’s time, while the finer details of human anatomy were left for modern microscopes and injections. Botany is a dynamic science, and discoveries in tropical regions might have enriched Dioscorides’ herbal with two thousand plants. Some traditional knowledge might have been stored away in the temples and monasteries of Egypt; considerable useful experience had been gained in various crafts and industries; but the science of chemistry owes its origin and advancement to the efforts of the Saracens. They were the first to create and name the alembic for distillation purposes, analyzed substances from the three realms of nature, explored the distinctions and relationships between alkalis and acids, and turned toxic minerals into soft and beneficial medicines. However, the most fervent quest of Arabian chemistry was the transformation of metals and the elixir of eternal health: the reason and fortunes of thousands were consumed in the crucibles of alchemy, and the culmination of this great work was aided by a mix of mystery, myth, and superstition.

But the Moslems deprived themselves of the principal benefits of a familiar intercourse with Greece and Rome, the knowledge of antiquity, the purity of taste, and the freedom of thought. Confident in the riches of their native tongue, the Arabians disdained the study of any foreign idiom. The Greek interpreters were chosen among their Christian subjects; they formed their translations, sometimes on the original text, more frequently perhaps on a Syriac version; and in the crowd of astronomers and physicians, there is no example of a poet, an orator, or even an historian, being taught to speak the language of the Saracens. The mythology of Homer would have provoked the abhorrence of those stern fanatics: they possessed in lazy ignorance the colonies of the Macedonians, and the provinces of Carthage and Rome: the heroes of Plutarch and Livy were buried in oblivion; and the history of the world before Mahomet was reduced to a short legend of the patriarchs, the prophets, and the Persian kings. Our education in the Greek and Latin schools may have fixed in our minds a standard of exclusive taste; and I am not forward to condemn the literature and judgment of nations, of whose language I am ignorant. Yet I know that the classics have much to teach, and I believe that the Orientals have much to learn; the temperate dignity of style, the graceful proportions of art, the forms of visible and intellectual beauty, the just delineation of character and passion, the rhetoric of narrative and argument, the regular fabric of epic and dramatic poetry. The influence of truth and reason is of a less ambiguous complexion. The philosophers of Athens and Rome enjoyed the blessings, and asserted the rights, of civil and religious freedom. Their moral and political writings might have gradually unlocked the fetters of Eastern despotism, diffused a liberal spirit of inquiry and toleration, and encouraged the Arabian sages to suspect that their caliph was a tyrant, and their prophet an impostor. The instinct of superstition was alarmed by the introduction even of the abstract sciences; and the more rigid doctors of the law condemned the rash and pernicious curiosity of Almamon. To the thirst of martyrdom, the vision of paradise, and the belief of predestination, we must ascribe the invincible enthusiasm of the prince and people. And the sword of the Saracens became less formidable when their youth was drawn away from the camp to the college, when the armies of the faithful presumed to read and to reflect. Yet the foolish vanity of the Greeks was jealous of their studies, and reluctantly imparted the sacred fire to the Barbarians of the East.

But the Muslims deprived themselves of the main benefits of a close relationship with Greece and Rome: the knowledge of ancient history, refined taste, and freedom of thought. Proud of the richness of their own language, the Arabs looked down on learning any foreign language. The Greek interpreters were chosen from among their Christian subjects; they created translations, sometimes based on the original text, but more often on a Syriac version. Among the many astronomers and physicians, there was no instance of a poet, orator, or even historian learning to speak the language of the Saracens. The mythology of Homer would have disgusted those rigid fanatics; they remained in lazy ignorance of the colonies of the Macedonians and the provinces of Carthage and Rome. The heroes of Plutarch and Livy were forgotten, and the history of the world before Muhammad was limited to a brief account of the patriarchs, prophets, and Persian kings. Our education in Greek and Latin schools may have instilled in us a narrow taste; and I'm not quick to criticize the literature and judgment of nations whose language I don’t know. Yet I know that the classics have a lot to teach, and I believe that the people of the East have much to learn: the balanced dignity of style, the graceful proportions of art, the forms of visible and intellectual beauty, the accurate portrayal of character and emotion, the rhetoric of storytelling and argument, and the structured fabric of epic and dramatic poetry. The influence of truth and reason is less ambiguous. The philosophers of Athens and Rome enjoyed civil and religious freedoms and asserted their rights. Their moral and political writings could have gradually loosened the chains of Eastern despotism, spread a spirit of inquiry and tolerance, and encouraged Arab scholars to suspect that their caliph was a tyrant and their prophet a fraud. The instinct of superstition was threatened even by the introduction of abstract sciences; and the stricter legal scholars condemned Almamon’s rash and harmful curiosity. The unquenchable enthusiasm of the prince and people can be attributed to their thirst for martyrdom, the vision of paradise, and the belief in predestination. The Saracen sword became less threatening when their youth were taken from the battlefield to the classroom, when the armies of the faithful dared to read and think. Yet the foolish pride of the Greeks was protective of their studies and was reluctant to share their sacred knowledge with the Eastern Barbarians.

In the bloody conflict of the Ommiades and Abbassides, the Greeks had stolen the opportunity of avenging their wrongs and enlarging their limits. But a severe retribution was exacted by Mohadi, the third caliph of the new dynasty, who seized, in his turn, the favorable opportunity, while a woman and a child, Irene and Constantine, were seated on the Byzantine throne. An army of ninety-five thousand Persians and Arabs was sent from the Tigris to the Thracian Bosphorus, under the command of Harun, or Aaron, the second son of the commander of the faithful. His encampment on the opposite heights of Chrysopolis, or Scutari, informed Irene, in her palace of Constantinople, of the loss of her troops and provinces. With the consent or connivance of their sovereign, her ministers subscribed an ignominious peace; and the exchange of some royal gifts could not disguise the annual tribute of seventy thousand dinars of gold, which was imposed on the Roman empire. The Saracens had too rashly advanced into the midst of a distant and hostile land: their retreat was solicited by the promise of faithful guides and plentiful markets; and not a Greek had courage to whisper, that their weary forces might be surrounded and destroyed in their necessary passage between a slippery mountain and the River Sangarius. Five years after this expedition, Harun ascended the throne of his father and his elder brother; the most powerful and vigorous monarch of his race, illustrious in the West, as the ally of Charlemagne, and familiar to the most childish readers, as the perpetual hero of the Arabian tales. His title to the name of Al Rashid (the Just) is sullied by the extirpation of the generous, perhaps the innocent, Barmecides; yet he could listen to the complaint of a poor widow who had been pillaged by his troops, and who dared, in a passage of the Koran, to threaten the inattentive despot with the judgment of God and posterity. His court was adorned with luxury and science; but, in a reign of three-and-twenty years, Harun repeatedly visited his provinces from Chorasan to Egypt; nine times he performed the pilgrimage of Mecca; eight times he invaded the territories of the Romans; and as often as they declined the payment of the tribute, they were taught to feel that a month of depredation was more costly than a year of submission. But when the unnatural mother of Constantine was deposed and banished, her successor, Nicephorus, resolved to obliterate this badge of servitude and disgrace. The epistle of the emperor to the caliph was pointed with an allusion to the game of chess, which had already spread from Persia to Greece. "The queen (he spoke of Irene) considered you as a rook, and herself as a pawn. That pusillanimous female submitted to pay a tribute, the double of which she ought to have exacted from the Barbarians. Restore therefore the fruits of your injustice, or abide the determination of the sword." At these words the ambassadors cast a bundle of swords before the foot of the throne. The caliph smiled at the menace, and drawing his cimeter, samsamah, a weapon of historic or fabulous renown, he cut asunder the feeble arms of the Greeks, without turning the edge, or endangering the temper, of his blade. He then dictated an epistle of tremendous brevity: "In the name of the most merciful God, Harun al Rashid, commander of the faithful, to Nicephorus, the Roman dog. I have read thy letter, O thou son of an unbelieving mother. Thou shalt not hear, thou shalt behold, my reply." It was written in characters of blood and fire on the plains of Phrygia; and the warlike celerity of the Arabs could only be checked by the arts of deceit and the show of repentance. The triumphant caliph retired, after the fatigues of the campaign, to his favorite palace of Racca on the Euphrates: but the distance of five hundred miles, and the inclemency of the season, encouraged his adversary to violate the peace. Nicephorus was astonished by the bold and rapid march of the commander of the faithful, who repassed, in the depth of winter, the snows of Mount Taurus: his stratagems of policy and war were exhausted; and the perfidious Greek escaped with three wounds from a field of battle overspread with forty thousand of his subjects. Yet the emperor was ashamed of submission, and the caliph was resolved on victory. One hundred and thirty-five thousand regular soldiers received pay, and were inscribed in the military roll; and above three hundred thousand persons of every denomination marched under the black standard of the Abbassides. They swept the surface of Asia Minor far beyond Tyana and Ancyra, and invested the Pontic Heraclea, once a flourishing state, now a paltry town; at that time capable of sustaining, in her antique walls, a month's siege against the forces of the East. The ruin was complete, the spoil was ample; but if Harun had been conversant with Grecian story, he would have regretted the statue of Hercules, whose attributes, the club, the bow, the quiver, and the lion's hide, were sculptured in massy gold. The progress of desolation by sea and land, from the Euxine to the Isle of Cyprus, compelled the emperor Nicephorus to retract his haughty defiance. In the new treaty, the ruins of Heraclea were left forever as a lesson and a trophy; and the coin of the tribute was marked with the image and superscription of Harun and his three sons. Yet this plurality of lords might contribute to remove the dishonor of the Roman name. After the death of their father, the heirs of the caliph were involved in civil discord, and the conqueror, the liberal Almamon, was sufficiently engaged in the restoration of domestic peace and the introduction of foreign science.

In the bloody conflict between the Ommiades and Abbassides, the Greeks missed their chance to take revenge and expand their territory. However, Mohadi, the third caliph of the new dynasty, took his opportunity while a woman and a child, Irene and Constantine, sat on the Byzantine throne. An army of ninety-five thousand Persians and Arabs was dispatched from the Tigris to the Thracian Bosphorus, led by Harun, the second son of the commander of the faithful. His camp on the heights of Chrysopolis, or Scutari, informed Irene, back in her palace in Constantinople, of the loss of her troops and provinces. With either her agreement or knowledge, her ministers accepted a shameful peace; and no amount of royal gifts could hide the annual tribute of seventy thousand dinars of gold imposed on the Roman Empire. The Saracens had recklessly advanced into a distant and hostile land: they were encouraged to retreat by promises of trustworthy guides and plentiful markets; and no Greek had the courage to suggest that their exhausted forces might be trapped and destroyed on their necessary passage between a slippery mountain and the River Sangarius. Five years after this expedition, Harun ascended the thrones of his father and elder brother; he was the most powerful and energetic monarch of his dynasty, known in the West as the ally of Charlemagne and familiar to even young readers as the continuous hero of Arabian tales. His title, Al Rashid (the Just), is tainted by the eradication of the noble, perhaps innocent, Barmecides; yet he listened to the complaints of a poor widow who had been robbed by his troops, daring to threaten the inattentive ruler with divine judgment and the judgment of history in a passage from the Koran. His court was filled with luxury and knowledge; but in his twenty-three-year reign, Harun repeatedly visited his provinces from Chorasan to Egypt; he made the pilgrimage to Mecca nine times; he invaded Roman territories eight times; and whenever they refused to pay the tribute, they learned that a month of plundering was more costly than a year of submission. However, when the unnatural mother of Constantine was deposed and exiled, her successor, Nicephorus, was determined to erase this mark of servitude and shame. The emperor's letter to the caliph cleverly referenced the game of chess, which had already spread from Persia to Greece. "The queen (he referred to Irene) thought of you as a rook, and herself as a pawn. That cowardly woman submitted to pay a tribute twice what she should have demanded from the Barbarians. So return the fruits of your injustice, or face the consequences of battle." At these words, the ambassadors threw a bundle of swords at the foot of the throne. The caliph smiled at the threat and, drawing his legendary sword, samsamah, effortlessly cut through the Greeks' weak show of force without dulling or risking his blade. He then dictated an extremely brief response: "In the name of the most merciful God, Harun al Rashid, commander of the faithful, to Nicephorus, the Roman dog. I have read your letter, son of an unbelieving mother. You will not hear, but see, my reply." It was written in blood and fire on the plains of Phrygia, and the swift actions of the Arabs could only be slowed by deceit and a pretense of remorse. The victorious caliph withdrew after the campaign's turmoil to his favorite palace in Racca on the Euphrates: but the distance of five hundred miles and the harshness of the season encouraged his opponent to break the peace. Nicephorus was stunned by the bold and rapid advance of the commander of the faithful, who crossed the snowy peaks of Mount Taurus in the depths of winter: his political and military strategies had been exhausted; and the treacherous Greek escaped with three wounds from a battlefield covered with forty thousand of his subjects. Yet the emperor was ashamed of defeat, and the caliph was determined to win. One hundred thirty-five thousand regular soldiers were enlisted and paid; and over three hundred thousand individuals from all backgrounds marched under the black banner of the Abbassides. They swept across Asia Minor far beyond Tyana and Ancyra, and besieged the once-thriving town of Pontic Heraclea, which was now just a small town, yet at the time capable of withstanding a month-long siege. The destruction was complete, the spoils were vast; but if Harun had known Greek history, he would have regretted the statue of Hercules, whose attributes—the club, the bow, the quiver, and the lion's hide—were made of solid gold. The relentless devastation by land and sea, from the Euxine to the Isle of Cyprus, forced Emperor Nicephorus to retract his arrogant defiance. In the new treaty, the ruins of Heraclea would remain a lesson and a trophy; and the tribute coins bore the image and name of Harun and his three sons. However, having multiple lords might help alleviate the dishonor of the Roman name. After their father passed away, the caliph's heirs fell into civil strife, and the victorious, generous Almamon was occupied with restoring domestic peace and promoting foreign knowledge.





Chapter LII: More Conquests By The Arabs.—Part IV.

Under the reign of Almamon at Bagdad, of Michael the Stammerer at Constantinople, the islands of Crete and Sicily were subdued by the Arabs. The former of these conquests is disdained by their own writers, who were ignorant of the fame of Jupiter and Minos, but it has not been overlooked by the Byzantine historians, who now begin to cast a clearer light on the affairs of their own times. A band of Andalusian volunteers, discontented with the climate or government of Spain, explored the adventures of the sea; but as they sailed in no more than ten or twenty galleys, their warfare must be branded with the name of piracy. As the subjects and sectaries of the white party, they might lawfully invade the dominions of the black caliphs. A rebellious faction introduced them into Alexandria; they cut in pieces both friends and foes, pillaged the churches and the moschs, sold above six thousand Christian captives, and maintained their station in the capital of Egypt, till they were oppressed by the forces and the presence of Almamon himself. From the mouth of the Nile to the Hellespont, the islands and sea-coasts both of the Greeks and Moslems were exposed to their depredations; they saw, they envied, they tasted the fertility of Crete, and soon returned with forty galleys to a more serious attack. The Andalusians wandered over the land fearless and unmolested; but when they descended with their plunder to the sea-shore, their vessels were in flames, and their chief, Abu Caab, confessed himself the author of the mischief. Their clamors accused his madness or treachery. "Of what do you complain?" replied the crafty emir. "I have brought you to a land flowing with milk and honey. Here is your true country; repose from your toils, and forget the barren place of your nativity." "And our wives and children?" "Your beauteous captives will supply the place of your wives, and in their embraces you will soon become the fathers of a new progeny." The first habitation was their camp, with a ditch and rampart, in the Bay of Suda; but an apostate monk led them to a more desirable position in the eastern parts; and the name of Candax, their fortress and colony, has been extended to the whole island, under the corrupt and modern appellation of Candia. The hundred cities of the age of Minos were diminished to thirty; and of these, only one, most probably Cydonia, had courage to retain the substance of freedom and the profession of Christianity. The Saracens of Crete soon repaired the loss of their navy; and the timbers of Mount Ida were launched into the main. During a hostile period of one hundred and thirty-eight years, the princes of Constantinople attacked these licentious corsairs with fruitless curses and ineffectual arms.

During Almamon's reign in Baghdad and Michael the Stammerer's rule in Constantinople, the Arabs conquered the islands of Crete and Sicily. The Arabs' historians look down on the conquest of Crete, unaware of the significance of Jupiter and Minos, but Byzantine historians are starting to shed light on their own times. A group of Andalusian volunteers, unhappy with the climate or government in Spain, sought adventure at sea; however, with only ten or twenty galleys, their actions were considered piracy. As followers of the white faction, they were justified in invading the territories of the black caliphs. A rebellious group welcomed them into Alexandria, where they brutally slaughtered both allies and enemies, plundered churches and mosques, sold over six thousand Christian captives, and held their ground in Egypt until Almamon's forces crushed them. From the Nile to the Hellespont, the islands and coastlines of both Greeks and Muslims fell victim to their raids; they admired and envied Crete's fertility and soon returned with forty galleys for a more serious assault. The Andalusians roamed the land freely, but upon returning to the shore with their spoils, they found their ships on fire, and their leader, Abu Caab, admitted to causing the destruction. His actions raised suspicion of madness or betrayal. "What are you complaining about?" answered the crafty emir. "I have brought you to a land flowing with milk and honey. This is your true homeland; rest from your labor and forget the desolate land of your birth." "And our wives and children?" "Your beautiful captives will replace your wives, and you will soon become fathers to a new generation in their arms." Their first settlement was a camp with a ditch and rampart in the Bay of Suda, but an apostate monk guided them to a better location in the east, where their fortress and colony, Candax, has now become known as Candia. The hundred cities from Minos's time were reduced to thirty, and of those, only one, likely Cydonia, had the courage to keep its freedom and maintain Christianity. The Saracens in Crete quickly rebuilt their navy, using timber from Mount Ida for ships. Over the span of one hundred thirty-eight years, the princes of Constantinople attacked these unruly pirates with useless curses and ineffective attacks.

The loss of Sicily was occasioned by an act of superstitious rigor. An amorous youth, who had stolen a nun from her cloister, was sentenced by the emperor to the amputation of his tongue. Euphemius appealed to the reason and policy of the Saracens of Africa; and soon returned with the Imperial purple, a fleet of one hundred ships, and an army of seven hundred horse and ten thousand foot. They landed at Mazara near the ruins of the ancient Selinus; but after some partial victories, Syracuse was delivered by the Greeks, the apostate was slain before her walls, and his African friends were reduced to the necessity of feeding on the flesh of their own horses. In their turn they were relieved by a powerful reënforcement of their brethren of Andalusia; the largest and western part of the island was gradually reduced, and the commodious harbor of Palermo was chosen for the seat of the naval and military power of the Saracens. Syracuse preserved about fifty years the faith which she had sworn to Christ and to Cæsar. In the last and fatal siege, her citizens displayed some remnant of the spirit which had formerly resisted the powers of Athens and Carthage. They stood above twenty days against the battering-rams and catapult, the mines and tortoises of the besiegers; and the place might have been relieved, if the mariners of the Imperial fleet had not been detained at Constantinople in building a church to the Virgin Mary. The deacon Theodosius, with the bishop and clergy, was dragged in chains from the altar to Palermo, cast into a subterraneous dungeon, and exposed to the hourly peril of death or apostasy. His pathetic, and not inelegant, complaint may be read as the epitaph of his country. From the Roman conquest to this final calamity, Syracuse, now dwindled to the primitive Isle of Ortygea, had insensibly declined. Yet the relics were still precious; the plate of the cathedral weighed five thousand pounds of silver; the entire spoil was computed at one million of pieces of gold, (about four hundred thousand pounds sterling,) and the captives must outnumber the seventeen thousand Christians, who were transported from the sack of Tauromenium into African servitude. In Sicily, the religion and language of the Greeks were eradicated; and such was the docility of the rising generation, that fifteen thousand boys were circumcised and clothed on the same day with the son of the Fatimite caliph. The Arabian squadrons issued from the harbors of Palermo, Biserta, and Tunis; a hundred and fifty towns of Calabria and Campania were attacked and pillaged; nor could the suburbs of Rome be defended by the name of the Cæsars and apostles. Had the Mahometans been united, Italy must have fallen an easy and glorious accession to the empire of the prophet. But the caliphs of Bagdad had lost their authority in the West; the Aglabites and Fatimites usurped the provinces of Africa, their emirs of Sicily aspired to independence; and the design of conquest and dominion was degraded to a repetition of predatory inroads.

The loss of Sicily was caused by a superstitious act. A lovesick young man, who had taken a nun from her convent, was sentenced by the emperor to have his tongue cut out. Euphemius appealed to the reason and strategy of the Saracens in Africa and soon returned with imperial authority, a fleet of a hundred ships, and an army of seven hundred cavalry and ten thousand infantry. They landed at Mazara near the ruins of ancient Selinus, but after some minor victories, Syracuse was liberated by the Greeks, the traitor was killed at her gates, and his African allies were forced to eat their own horses. They were then helped by a powerful reinforcements from their brothers in Andalusia; the largest western part of the island was gradually taken, and the safe harbor of Palermo was chosen as the base of Saracen naval and military power. Syracuse remained faithful to the oath she had taken to Christ and Caesar for about fifty years. During the final siege, her citizens showed some of the spirit that had once resisted Athens and Carthage. They held out for more than twenty days against the battering rams and catapults, the mines and siege towers of the attackers; the city might have been saved if the crew of the imperial fleet hadn’t been held up in Constantinople building a church for the Virgin Mary. Deacon Theodosius, along with the bishop and clergy, was dragged in chains from the altar to Palermo, thrown into an underground dungeon, and faced the constant threat of death or conversion. His moving and somewhat eloquent complaint can be seen as the epitaph of his homeland. From the Roman conquest to this final disaster, Syracuse, which had shrunk to the original Isle of Ortygea, had gradually declined. Yet the remnants were still valuable; the cathedral’s silver plate weighed five thousand pounds; the total loot was estimated at one million gold pieces (about four hundred thousand pounds sterling), and the captives likely outnumbered the seventeen thousand Christians who were taken from the sack of Tauromenium into slavery in Africa. In Sicily, the Greek religion and language were wiped out; so compliant was the new generation that fifteen thousand boys were circumcised and dressed the same day as the son of the Fatimite caliph. The Arabian forces came out of the ports of Palermo, Biserta, and Tunis; they attacked and looted one hundred and fifty towns in Calabria and Campania; even the suburbs of Rome couldn’t be defended by the names of the Caesars and apostles. If the Muslims had been united, Italy would have easily and gloriously fallen into the hands of the prophet’s empire. But the caliphs of Baghdad had lost their power in the West; the Aglabites and Fatimites took over the provinces of Africa, and their leaders in Sicily sought independence; the goal of conquest and domination was reduced to repeated waves of plundering.

In the sufferings of prostrate Italy, the name of Rome awakens a solemn and mournful recollection. A fleet of Saracens from the African coast presumed to enter the mouth of the Tyber, and to approach a city which even yet, in her fallen state, was revered as the metropolis of the Christian world. The gates and ramparts were guarded by a trembling people; but the tombs and temples of St. Peter and St. Paul were left exposed in the suburbs of the Vatican and of the Ostian way. Their invisible sanctity had protected them against the Goths, the Vandals, and the Lombards; but the Arabs disdained both the gospel and the legend; and their rapacious spirit was approved and animated by the precepts of the Koran. The Christian idols were stripped of their costly offerings; a silver altar was torn away from the shrine of St. Peter; and if the bodies or the buildings were left entire, their deliverance must be imputed to the haste, rather than the scruples, of the Saracens. In their course along the Appian way, they pillaged Fundi and besieged Gayeta; but they had turned aside from the walls of Rome, and by their divisions, the Capitol was saved from the yoke of the prophet of Mecca. The same danger still impended on the heads of the Roman people; and their domestic force was unequal to the assault of an African emir. They claimed the protection of their Latin sovereign; but the Carlovingian standard was overthrown by a detachment of the Barbarians: they meditated the restoration of the Greek emperors; but the attempt was treasonable, and the succor remote and precarious. Their distress appeared to receive some aggravation from the death of their spiritual and temporal chief; but the pressing emergency superseded the forms and intrigues of an election; and the unanimous choice of Pope Leo the Fourth was the safety of the church and city. This pontiff was born a Roman; the courage of the first ages of the republic glowed in his breast; and, amidst the ruins of his country, he stood erect, like one of the firm and lofty columns that rear their heads above the fragments of the Roman forum. The first days of his reign were consecrated to the purification and removal of relics, to prayers and processions, and to all the solemn offices of religion, which served at least to heal the imagination, and restore the hopes, of the multitude. The public defence had been long neglected, not from the presumption of peace, but from the distress and poverty of the times. As far as the scantiness of his means and the shortness of his leisure would allow, the ancient walls were repaired by the command of Leo; fifteen towers, in the most accessible stations, were built or renewed; two of these commanded on either side of the Tyber; and an iron chain was drawn across the stream to impede the ascent of a hostile navy. The Romans were assured of a short respite by the welcome news, that the siege of Gayeta had been raised, and that a part of the enemy, with their sacrilegious plunder, had perished in the waves.

In the suffering of devastated Italy, the name of Rome evokes a serious and sorrowful memory. A fleet of Saracens from the African coast dared to enter the mouth of the Tiber and approach a city that, even in its fallen state, was respected as the center of the Christian world. The gates and walls were guarded by a fearful people; however, the tombs and temples of St. Peter and St. Paul were left vulnerable in the outskirts of the Vatican and along the Ostian way. Their unseen sanctity had protected them from the Goths, the Vandals, and the Lombards; but the Arabs disregarded both the gospel and the legend, and their greedy nature was encouraged by the teachings of the Koran. The Christian idols were stripped of their valuable offerings; a silver altar was ripped from the shrine of St. Peter; and if the bodies or buildings remained whole, it was more due to the haste than the morals of the Saracens. As they traveled along the Appian way, they looted Fundi and besieged Gaeta; yet they turned away from the walls of Rome, and their divisions saved the Capitol from the control of the prophet of Mecca. The same threat still hovered over the Roman people, and their local forces were insufficient to fend off an African emir. They sought the protection of their Latin ruler; but the Carlovingian standard was toppled by a group of Barbarians: they contemplated restoring the Greek emperors; but this plan was treasonous, and the help they needed was distant and uncertain. Their plight seemed to worsen with the death of their spiritual and temporal leader; however, the urgent situation overshadowed the procedures and scheming of an election, and the unanimous selection of Pope Leo IV became the salvation of the church and city. This pope was born a Roman; the spirit of the early republic burned within him; and amidst the ruins of his homeland, he stood tall, like one of the strong and elevated columns that rise above the remnants of the Roman forum. The early days of his reign were dedicated to cleansing and removing relics, to prayers and processions, and to all the solemn rituals of religion, which at least helped soothe the people's minds and restore their hopes. The public defense had long been neglected, not out of a false sense of peace, but due to the hardships and poverty of the times. As much as his limited resources and time allowed, Leo commanded repairs to the ancient walls; fifteen towers were built or restored at the most accessible positions; two of these overlooked both sides of the Tiber; and an iron chain was stretched across the river to block the advance of a hostile navy. The Romans were relieved by the news that the siege of Gaeta had been lifted and that some of the enemy, along with their sacrilegious loot, had perished in the waves.

But the storm, which had been delayed, soon burst upon them with redoubled violence. The Aglabite, who reigned in Africa, had inherited from his father a treasure and an army: a fleet of Arabs and Moors, after a short refreshment in the harbors of Sardinia, cast anchor before the mouth of the Tyber, sixteen miles from the city: and their discipline and numbers appeared to threaten, not a transient inroad, but a serious design of conquest and dominion. But the vigilance of Leo had formed an alliance with the vassals of the Greek empire, the free and maritime states of Gayeta, Naples, and Amalfi; and in the hour of danger, their galleys appeared in the port of Ostia under the command of Cæsarius, the son of the Neapolitan duke, a noble and valiant youth, who had already vanquished the fleets of the Saracens. With his principal companions, Cæsarius was invited to the Lateran palace, and the dexterous pontiff affected to inquire their errand, and to accept with joy and surprise their providential succor. The city bands, in arms, attended their father to Ostia, where he reviewed and blessed his generous deliverers. They kissed his feet, received the communion with martial devotion, and listened to the prayer of Leo, that the same God who had supported St. Peter and St. Paul on the waves of the sea, would strengthen the hands of his champions against the adversaries of his holy name. After a similar prayer, and with equal resolution, the Moslems advanced to the attack of the Christian galleys, which preserved their advantageous station along the coast. The victory inclined to the side of the allies, when it was less gloriously decided in their favor by a sudden tempest, which confounded the skill and courage of the stoutest mariners. The Christians were sheltered in a friendly harbor, while the Africans were scattered and dashed in pieces among the rocks and islands of a hostile shore. Those who escaped from shipwreck and hunger neither found, nor deserved, mercy at the hands of their implacable pursuers. The sword and the gibbet reduced the dangerous multitude of captives; and the remainder was more usefully employed, to restore the sacred edifices which they had attempted to subvert. The pontiff, at the head of the citizens and allies, paid his grateful devotion at the shrines of the apostles; and, among the spoils of this naval victory, thirteen Arabian bows of pure and massy silver were suspended round the altar of the fishermen of Galilee. The reign of Leo the Fourth was employed in the defence and ornament of the Roman state. The churches were renewed and embellished: near four thousand pounds of silver were consecrated to repair the losses of St. Peter; and his sanctuary was decorated with a plate of gold of the weight of two hundred and sixteen pounds, embossed with the portraits of the pope and emperor, and encircled with a string of pearls. Yet this vain magnificence reflects less glory on the character of Leo than the paternal care with which he rebuilt the walls of Horta and Ameria; and transported the wandering inhabitants of Centumcellæ to his new foundation of Leopolis, twelve miles from the sea-shore. By his liberality, a colony of Corsicans, with their wives and children, was planted in the station of Porto, at the mouth of the Tyber: the falling city was restored for their use, the fields and vineyards were divided among the new settlers: their first efforts were assisted by a gift of horses and cattle; and the hardy exiles, who breathed revenge against the Saracens, swore to live and die under the standard of St. Peter. The nations of the West and North who visited the threshold of the apostles had gradually formed the large and populous suburb of the Vatican, and their various habitations were distinguished, in the language of the times, as the schools of the Greeks and Goths, of the Lombards and Saxons. But this venerable spot was still open to sacrilegious insult: the design of enclosing it with walls and towers exhausted all that authority could command, or charity would supply: and the pious labor of four years was animated in every season, and at every hour, by the presence of the indefatigable pontiff. The love of fame, a generous but worldly passion, may be detected in the name of the Leonine city, which he bestowed on the Vatican; yet the pride of the dedication was tempered with Christian penance and humility. The boundary was trod by the bishop and his clergy, barefoot, in sackcloth and ashes; the songs of triumph were modulated to psalms and litanies; the walls were besprinkled with holy water; and the ceremony was concluded with a prayer, that, under the guardian care of the apostles and the angelic host, both the old and the new Rome might ever be preserved pure, prosperous, and impregnable.

But the storm, which had been delayed, soon hit them with even greater force. The Aglabite ruler in Africa had inherited a treasure and an army from his father: a fleet of Arabs and Moors, after a brief stop in the harbors of Sardinia, dropped anchor near the mouth of the Tiber, sixteen miles from the city. Their discipline and size seemed to threaten not just a temporary raid but a serious plan for conquest and control. However, Leo’s vigilance had forged an alliance with the vassals of the Greek empire and the free maritime states of Gaeta, Naples, and Amalfi; and in their hour of need, their galleys arrived in the port of Ostia under the command of Cæsarius, the son of the Neapolitan duke, a noble and brave young man who had already defeated the fleets of the Saracens. Along with his key companions, Cæsarius was invited to the Lateran palace, where the skillful pontiff pretended to ask about their purpose and welcomed their unexpected help with joy and surprise. The city guards, in arms, accompanied their leader to Ostia, where he reviewed and blessed his generous rescuers. They kissed his feet, took communion with martial devotion, and listened to Leo’s prayer that the same God who supported St. Peter and St. Paul on the sea would strengthen the hands of his champions against the enemies of His holy name. After a similar prayer and with equal determination, the Muslims launched their attack on the Christian galleys, which maintained their advantageous position along the coast. Victory seemed to favor the allies when a sudden storm shifted the tide in their favor, disrupting the skill and bravery of even the toughest sailors. The Christians found refuge in a friendly harbor, while the Africans were scattered and wrecked among the rocks and islands of a hostile shore. Those who survived the shipwreck and hunger found no mercy from their relentless pursuers. The sword and the gallows quickly reduced the dangerous crowd of captives; the rest were put to work restoring the sacred buildings they had tried to destroy. The pontiff, leading the citizens and allies, expressed his gratitude at the shrines of the apostles, and among the spoils of this naval victory, thirteen Arabian bows made of pure, solid silver were hung around the altar of the fishermen from Galilee. Leo the Fourth spent his reign defending and beautifying the Roman state. The churches were renewed and enhanced: nearly four thousand pounds of silver were dedicated to make up for the losses of St. Peter; his sanctuary was adorned with a gold plate weighing two hundred and sixteen pounds, featuring the portraits of the pope and emperor and surrounded by a string of pearls. Yet this showy magnificence reflects less glory on Leo's character than the fatherly care he took in rebuilding the walls of Horta and Ameria, and relocating the wandering inhabitants of Centumcellæ to his new foundation of Leopolis, twelve miles from the coast. Through his generosity, a colony of Corsicans, along with their wives and children, was settled in the Porto area at the Tiber's mouth: the crumbling city was restored for their use, and the fields and vineyards were divided among the new settlers. Their initial efforts were supported by a gift of horses and cattle; and the hardy exiles, burning with a desire for revenge against the Saracens, vowed to live and die under the standard of St. Peter. The nations from the West and North visiting the apostles' threshold gradually formed a large and populous suburb around the Vatican, with their diverse homes identified in the language of the day as the schools of the Greeks and Goths, and of the Lombards and Saxons. But this honored site remained vulnerable to sacrilegious attack: the effort to enclose it with walls and towers consumed all that authority could muster or charity could provide, and the pious work took four years, energized at every season and hour by the presence of the tireless pontiff. The desire for fame, a generous but worldly passion, can be seen in the name of the Leonine city he gave to the Vatican; yet the pride of this dedication was balanced by Christian penance and humility. The bishop and his clergy walked barefoot, in sackcloth and ashes, along the boundaries; triumphal songs were turned into psalms and litanies; the walls were sprinkled with holy water; and the ceremony finished with a prayer that, under the protection of the apostles and the heavenly hosts, both old and new Rome might always remain pure, prosperous, and unconquerable.

The emperor Theophilus, son of Michael the Stammerer, was one of the most active and high-spirited princes who reigned at Constantinople during the middle age. In offensive or defensive war, he marched in person five times against the Saracens, formidable in his attack, esteemed by the enemy in his losses and defeats. In the last of these expeditions he penetrated into Syria, and besieged the obscure town of Sozopetra; the casual birthplace of the caliph Motassem, whose father Harun was attended in peace or war by the most favored of his wives and concubines. The revolt of a Persian impostor employed at that moment the arms of the Saracen, and he could only intercede in favor of a place for which he felt and acknowledged some degree of filial affection. These solicitations determined the emperor to wound his pride in so sensible a part. Sozopetra was levelled with the ground, the Syrian prisoners were marked or mutilated with ignominious cruelty, and a thousand female captives were forced away from the adjacent territory. Among these a matron of the house of Abbas invoked, in an agony of despair, the name of Motassem; and the insults of the Greeks engaged the honor of her kinsman to avenge his indignity, and to answer her appeal. Under the reign of the two elder brothers, the inheritance of the youngest had been confined to Anatolia, Armenia, Georgia, and Circassia; this frontier station had exercised his military talents; and among his accidental claims to the name of Octonary, the most meritorious are the eight battles which he gained or fought against the enemies of the Koran. In this personal quarrel, the troops of Irak, Syria, and Egypt, were recruited from the tribes of Arabia and the Turkish hordes; his cavalry might be numerous, though we should deduct some myriads from the hundred and thirty thousand horses of the royal stables; and the expense of the armament was computed at four millions sterling, or one hundred thousand pounds of gold. From Tarsus, the place of assembly, the Saracens advanced in three divisions along the high road of Constantinople: Motassem himself commanded the centre, and the vanguard was given to his son Abbas, who, in the trial of the first adventures, might succeed with the more glory, or fail with the least reproach. In the revenge of his injury, the caliph prepared to retaliate a similar affront. The father of Theophilus was a native of Amorium in Phrygia: the original seat of the Imperial house had been adorned with privileges and monuments; and, whatever might be the indifference of the people, Constantinople itself was scarcely of more value in the eyes of the sovereign and his court. The name of Amorium was inscribed on the shields of the Saracens; and their three armies were again united under the walls of the devoted city. It had been proposed by the wisest counsellors, to evacuate Amorium, to remove the inhabitants, and to abandon the empty structures to the vain resentment of the Barbarians. The emperor embraced the more generous resolution of defending, in a siege and battle, the country of his ancestors. When the armies drew near, the front of the Mahometan line appeared to a Roman eye more closely planted with spears and javelins; but the event of the action was not glorious on either side to the national troops. The Arabs were broken, but it was by the swords of thirty thousand Persians, who had obtained service and settlement in the Byzantine empire. The Greeks were repulsed and vanquished, but it was by the arrows of the Turkish cavalry; and had not their bowstrings been damped and relaxed by the evening rain, very few of the Christians could have escaped with the emperor from the field of battle. They breathed at Dorylæum, at the distance of three days; and Theophilus, reviewing his trembling squadrons, forgave the common flight both of the prince and people. After this discovery of his weakness, he vainly hoped to deprecate the fate of Amorium: the inexorable caliph rejected with contempt his prayers and promises; and detained the Roman ambassadors to be the witnesses of his great revenge. They had nearly been the witnesses of his shame. The vigorous assaults of fifty-five days were encountered by a faithful governor, a veteran garrison, and a desperate people; and the Saracens must have raised the siege, if a domestic traitor had not pointed to the weakest part of the wall, a place which was decorated with the statues of a lion and a bull. The vow of Motassem was accomplished with unrelenting rigor: tired, rather than satiated, with destruction, he returned to his new palace of Samara, in the neighborhood of Bagdad, while the unfortunate Theophilus implored the tardy and doubtful aid of his Western rival the emperor of the Franks. Yet in the siege of Amorium about seventy thousand Moslems had perished: their loss had been revenged by the slaughter of thirty thousand Christians, and the sufferings of an equal number of captives, who were treated as the most atrocious criminals. Mutual necessity could sometimes extort the exchange or ransom of prisoners: but in the national and religious conflict of the two empires, peace was without confidence, and war without mercy. Quarter was seldom given in the field; those who escaped the edge of the sword were condemned to hopeless servitude, or exquisite torture; and a Catholic emperor relates, with visible satisfaction, the execution of the Saracens of Crete, who were flayed alive, or plunged into caldrons of boiling oil. To a point of honor Motassem had sacrificed a flourishing city, two hundred thousand lives, and the property of millions. The same caliph descended from his horse, and dirtied his robe, to relieve the distress of a decrepit old man, who, with his laden ass, had tumbled into a ditch. On which of these actions did he reflect with the most pleasure, when he was summoned by the angel of death?

The emperor Theophilus, son of Michael the Stammerer, was one of the most active and spirited rulers of Constantinople during the Middle Ages. He personally marched five times against the Saracens, excelling in both offensive and defensive warfare, and garnered respect from the enemy even in defeat. On his last campaign, he invaded Syria and laid siege to the little-known town of Sozopetra, which happened to be the birthplace of the caliph Motassem. Motassem's father, Harun, had been surrounded in both peace and war by his preferred wives and concubines. At that time, a Persian impostor was leading a revolt, compelling Saracen forces to split their attention, and Motassem could only plead for Sozopetra, a place he felt a personal connection to. This plea led the emperor to strike at his pride in a significant way. Sozopetra was completely destroyed, the Syrian prisoners were cruelly marked or mutilated, and a thousand women from the surrounding region were taken captive. Among them, a woman from the Abbas family cried out in deep despair, calling on Motassem's name; the Greeks’ insults spurred her relatives to seek revenge on her behalf. Under the rule of his two older brothers, the youngest had inherited lands in Anatolia, Armenia, Georgia, and Circassia, which had honed his military skills. Notably, among the claims to the name Octonary was the eight battles he won or fought against the enemies of the Koran. In this conflict, the armies of Irak, Syria, and Egypt were made up of tribes from Arabia and Turkish groups; his cavalry was numerous, although thousands were likely subtracted from the total of one hundred thirty thousand royal horses, and the cost of the armament was estimated at four million pounds sterling, or one hundred thousand pounds of gold. From Tarsus, where the troops gathered, the Saracens marched in three divisions towards Constantinople: Motassem led the center while his son Abbas commanded the vanguard, aiming to achieve glory or avoid blame in their initial encounters. In response to his grievances, the caliph prepared to return the favor. Theophilus's father was from Amorium in Phrygia; the original home of the imperial family had been adorned with privileges and monuments, and despite the people's indifference, Constantinople was hardly valued more by the ruler and his court. Amorium's name was written on the shields of the Saracens, and their three armies regrouped outside the vulnerable city. The wisest advisors had suggested abandoning Amorium, moving the inhabitants, and leaving the empty buildings to the wrath of the Barbarians. However, the emperor opted for a nobler course—to defend his ancestral land with siege and battle. As the armies approached, the Muslim front appeared densely arrayed with spears and javelins from a Roman perspective, but the outcome was not glorious for either side's national troops. The Arabs were defeated, but only through the swords of thirty thousand Persians stationed in the Byzantine Empire. The Greeks were driven back and defeated through the arrows of Turkish cavalry; had their bowstrings not been slackened by evening rain, very few Christians would have escaped the battlefield alongside the emperor. They found refuge at Dorylæum, three days away, and Theophilus forgave the common retreat of both prince and people. After revealing his vulnerability, he vainly hoped to avert the fall of Amorium: the relentless caliph dismissed his pleas and promises with scorn and held Roman ambassadors as witnesses to his revenge. They almost witnessed his disgrace. A determined governor, a battle-hardened garrison, and a desperate citizenry withstood fifty-five days of fierce attacks, and the Saracens might have lifted the siege had a domestic traitor not directed them to a weak spot in the wall, marked by statues of a lion and a bull. Motassem's vow was fulfilled with harsh precision: weary, not satisfied, from destruction, he returned to his new palace in Samara near Baghdad, while the unfortunate Theophilus begged for the slow and uncertain aid of his rival, the emperor of the Franks. Yet, during the siege of Amorium, around seventy thousand Muslims had perished, their loss avenged by the deaths of thirty thousand Christians and similar suffering inflicted on an equal number of captives, who were treated like terrible criminals. Mutual need occasionally forced the exchange or ransom of prisoners, but in the national and religious conflict between the two empires, trust was absent, and war was merciless. The battlefield rarely offered quarter; those who eluded the sword were fated to either despairing servitude or cruel torture, and a Catholic emperor recounts, with apparent satisfaction, the flaying alive or boiling of Saracens from Crete. Motassem sacrificed a thriving city, two hundred thousand lives, and the wealth of millions for a point of honor. The same caliph dismounted from his horse and soiled his robe to help a decrepit old man whose weighted donkey had fallen into a ditch. Which of these actions do you think he pondered with the most joy when he was called by the angel of death?

With Motassem, the eighth of the Abbassides, the glory of his family and nation expired. When the Arabian conquerors had spread themselves over the East, and were mingled with the servile crowds of Persia, Syria, and Egypt, they insensibly lost the freeborn and martial virtues of the desert. The courage of the South is the artificial fruit of discipline and prejudice; the active power of enthusiasm had decayed, and the mercenary forces of the caliphs were recruited in those climates of the North, of which valor is the hardy and spontaneous production. Of the Turks who dwelt beyond the Oxus and Jaxartes, the robust youths, either taken in war or purchased in trade, were educated in the exercises of the field, and the profession of the Mahometan faith. The Turkish guards stood in arms round the throne of their benefactor, and their chiefs usurped the dominion of the palace and the provinces. Motassem, the first author of this dangerous example, introduced into the capital above fifty thousand Turks: their licentious conduct provoked the public indignation, and the quarrels of the soldiers and people induced the caliph to retire from Bagdad, and establish his own residence and the camp of his Barbarian favorites at Samara on the Tigris, about twelve leagues above the city of Peace. His son Motawakkel was a jealous and cruel tyrant: odious to his subjects, he cast himself on the fidelity of the strangers, and these strangers, ambitious and apprehensive, were tempted by the rich promise of a revolution. At the instigation, or at least in the cause of his son, they burst into his apartment at the hour of supper, and the caliph was cut into seven pieces by the same swords which he had recently distributed among the guards of his life and throne. To this throne, yet streaming with a father's blood, Montasser was triumphantly led; but in a reign of six months, he found only the pangs of a guilty conscience. If he wept at the sight of an old tapestry which represented the crime and punishment of the son of Chosroes, if his days were abridged by grief and remorse, we may allow some pity to a parricide, who exclaimed, in the bitterness of death, that he had lost both this world and the world to come. After this act of treason, the ensigns of royalty, the garment and walking-staff of Mahomet, were given and torn away by the foreign mercenaries, who in four years created, deposed, and murdered, three commanders of the faithful. As often as the Turks were inflamed by fear, or rage, or avarice, these caliphs were dragged by the feet, exposed naked to the scorching sun, beaten with iron clubs, and compelled to purchase, by the abdication of their dignity, a short reprieve of inevitable fate. At length, however, the fury of the tempest was spent or diverted: the Abbassides returned to the less turbulent residence of Bagdad; the insolence of the Turks was curbed with a firmer and more skilful hand, and their numbers were divided and destroyed in foreign warfare. But the nations of the East had been taught to trample on the successors of the prophet; and the blessings of domestic peace were obtained by the relaxation of strength and discipline. So uniform are the mischiefs of military despotism, that I seem to repeat the story of the prætorians of Rome.

With Motassem, the eighth of the Abbassides, the glory of his family and nation came to an end. When the Arabian conquerors spread across the East and mingled with the servile populations of Persia, Syria, and Egypt, they gradually lost the noble and warrior qualities of the desert. The courage of the South became an artificial result of discipline and bias; the vibrant power of enthusiasm faded, and the caliphs’ mercenary forces were recruited from the northern climates, where valor is a natural and sturdy trait. The Turks living beyond the Oxus and Jaxartes, robust young men either captured in battle or bought in trade, were trained in military skills and the practices of the Muslim faith. The Turkish guards stood armed around the throne of their benefactor, with their leaders seizing control of the palace and provinces. Motassem, the first to set this dangerous precedent, brought over fifty thousand Turks into the capital. Their reckless behavior angered the public, and the conflicts between the soldiers and the people forced the caliph to leave Baghdad and establish his residence and the camp of his foreign favorites in Samara on the Tigris, about twelve leagues from the city of Peace. His son Motawakkel was a jealous and cruel tyrant; hated by his subjects, he relied on the loyalty of the foreigners, who, ambitious and fearful, were tempted by the promise of wealth from a coup. Encouraged, or at least influenced, by his son, they stormed his dining room at supper, and the caliph was cut into seven pieces by the same swords he had recently given to his guards. To this throne, still stained with a father’s blood, Montasser was triumphantly led; but during his six-month reign, he found only the torment of a guilty conscience. If he cried at the sight of an old tapestry depicting the crime and punishment of the son of Chosroes, if his days were shortened by grief and remorse, we can muster some pity for a parricide who lamented, in his dying moments, that he had lost both this world and the next. After this act of betrayal, the symbols of royalty, the robe and staff of Mahomet, were handed out and taken away by the foreign mercenaries, who in four years created, deposed, and murdered three commanders of the faithful. Whenever the Turks were stirred by fear, anger, or greed, these caliphs were dragged by their feet, exposed naked to the burning sun, beaten with iron clubs, and forced to buy a brief extension of their lives by giving up their dignity. Eventually, however, the storm's fury calmed or was redirected: the Abbassides returned to the more peaceful residence of Baghdad; the Turks' arrogance was restrained with a firmer and more skillful hand, and their ranks were reduced and weakened in foreign wars. But the people of the East had learned to trample on the successors of the prophet, and the benefits of domestic peace came at the cost of diminished strength and discipline. The damaging effects of military despotism are so consistent that it feels like I am recounting the story of the Praetorians of Rome.

While the flame of enthusiasm was damped by the business, the pleasure, and the knowledge, of the age, it burnt with concentrated heat in the breasts of the chosen few, the congenial spirits, who were ambitious of reigning either in this world or in the next. How carefully soever the book of prophecy had been sealed by the apostle of Mecca, the wishes, and (if we may profane the word) even the reason, of fanaticism might believe that, after the successive missions of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Mahomet, the same God, in the fulness of time, would reveal a still more perfect and permanent law. In the two hundred and seventy-seventh year of the Hegira, and in the neighborhood of Cufa, an Arabian preacher, of the name of Carmath, assumed the lofty and incomprehensible style of the Guide, the Director, the Demonstration, the Word, the Holy Ghost, the Camel, the Herald of the Messiah, who had conversed with him in a human shape, and the representative of Mohammed the son of Ali, of St. John the Baptist, and of the angel Gabriel. In his mystic volume, the precepts of the Koran were refined to a more spiritual sense: he relaxed the duties of ablution, fasting, and pilgrimage; allowed the indiscriminate use of wine and forbidden food; and nourished the fervor of his disciples by the daily repetition of fifty prayers. The idleness and ferment of the rustic crowd awakened the attention of the magistrates of Cufa; a timid persecution assisted the progress of the new sect; and the name of the prophet became more revered after his person had been withdrawn from the world. His twelve apostles dispersed themselves among the Bedoweens, "a race of men," says Abulfeda, "equally devoid of reason and of religion;" and the success of their preaching seemed to threaten Arabia with a new revolution. The Carmathians were ripe for rebellion, since they disclaimed the title of the house of Abbas, and abhorred the worldly pomp of the caliphs of Bagdad. They were susceptible of discipline, since they vowed a blind and absolute submission to their Imam, who was called to the prophetic office by the voice of God and the people. Instead of the legal tithes, he claimed the fifth of their substance and spoil; the most flagitious sins were no more than the type of disobedience; and the brethren were united and concealed by an oath of secrecy. After a bloody conflict, they prevailed in the province of Bahrein, along the Persian Gulf: far and wide, the tribes of the desert were subject to the sceptre, or rather to the sword of Abu Said and his son Abu Taher; and these rebellious imams could muster in the field a hundred and seven thousand fanatics. The mercenaries of the caliph were dismayed at the approach of an enemy who neither asked nor accepted quarter; and the difference between, them in fortitude and patience, is expressive of the change which three centuries of prosperity had effected in the character of the Arabians. Such troops were discomfited in every action; the cities of Racca and Baalbec, of Cufa and Bassora, were taken and pillaged; Bagdad was filled with consternation; and the caliph trembled behind the veils of his palace. In a daring inroad beyond the Tigris, Abu Taher advanced to the gates of the capital with no more than five hundred horse. By the special order of Moctader, the bridges had been broken down, and the person or head of the rebel was expected every hour by the commander of the faithful. His lieutenant, from a motive of fear or pity, apprised Abu Taher of his danger, and recommended a speedy escape. "Your master," said the intrepid Carmathian to the messenger, "is at the head of thirty thousand soldiers: three such men as these are wanting in his host:" at the same instant, turning to three of his companions, he commanded the first to plunge a dagger into his breast, the second to leap into the Tigris, and the third to cast himself headlong down a precipice. They obeyed without a murmur. "Relate," continued the imam, "what you have seen: before the evening your general shall be chained among my dogs." Before the evening, the camp was surprised, and the menace was executed. The rapine of the Carmathians was sanctified by their aversion to the worship of Mecca: they robbed a caravan of pilgrims, and twenty thousand devout Moslems were abandoned on the burning sands to a death of hunger and thirst. Another year they suffered the pilgrims to proceed without interruption; but, in the festival of devotion, Abu Taher stormed the holy city, and trampled on the most venerable relics of the Mahometan faith. Thirty thousand citizens and strangers were put to the sword; the sacred precincts were polluted by the burial of three thousand dead bodies; the well of Zemzem overflowed with blood; the golden spout was forced from its place; the veil of the Caaba was divided among these impious sectaries; and the black stone, the first monument of the nation, was borne away in triumph to their capital. After this deed of sacrilege and cruelty, they continued to infest the confines of Irak, Syria, and Egypt: but the vital principle of enthusiasm had withered at the root. Their scruples, or their avarice, again opened the pilgrimage of Mecca, and restored the black stone of the Caaba; and it is needless to inquire into what factions they were broken, or by whose swords they were finally extirpated. The sect of the Carmathians may be considered as the second visible cause of the decline and fall of the empire of the caliphs.

While the fire of enthusiasm was dampened by the business, pleasure, and knowledge of the age, it burned brightly in the hearts of the chosen few, the kindred spirits who aspired to rule either in this world or the next. No matter how carefully the book of prophecy was sealed by the apostle of Mecca, the desires—and if we may use the term—even the reasoning of fanaticism might believe that, after the successive missions of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad, the same God, in due time, would reveal an even more perfect and lasting law. In the 277th year of the Hegira, near Cufa, an Arabian preacher named Carmath took on the grand and incomprehensible titles of the Guide, the Director, the Demonstration, the Word, the Holy Ghost, the Camel, and the Herald of the Messiah, claiming to have conversed with him in human form, and being the representative of Muhammad son of Ali, St. John the Baptist, and the angel Gabriel. In his mystical writings, the precepts of the Koran were interpreted in a more spiritual sense; he relaxed the obligations of washing, fasting, and pilgrimage; permitted the indiscriminate consumption of wine and forbidden food; and fueled the fervor of his followers with the daily repetition of fifty prayers. The idleness and unrest of the rural crowd caught the attention of the officials in Cufa; a timid persecution aided the growth of the new sect; and the prophet's name became more revered after he left the world. His twelve apostles spread among the Bedouins, “a race of men,” says Abulfeda, “equally devoid of reason and religion;” and the success of their preaching seemed to threaten Arabia with a new upheaval. The Carmathians were ripe for rebellion, as they rejected the title of the house of Abbas and detested the worldly grandeur of the caliphs of Baghdad. They were amenable to discipline since they vowed blind and absolute loyalty to their Imam, who was called to prophetic office by the voice of God and the people. Instead of paying legal tithes, he demanded one-fifth of their wealth and spoils; even major sins were viewed merely as disobedience; and the brethren were united and concealed by an oath of secrecy. After a bloody conflict, they prevailed in the province of Bahrein by the Persian Gulf: far and wide, the desert tribes came under the control, or rather the sword, of Abu Said and his son Abu Taher; and these rebellious imams could gather an army of 107,000 fanatics. The caliph's mercenaries were intimidated by the approach of an enemy who neither asked nor offered mercy; and the difference in courage and patience highlighted the change that three centuries of prosperity had made in the character of the Arabians. Such troops were defeated in every engagement; the cities of Racca, Baalbec, Cufa, and Bassora were taken and looted; Baghdad was filled with fear; and the caliph trembled behind the veils of his palace. In a bold raid across the Tigris, Abu Taher advanced to the gates of the capital with only five hundred horsemen. By special order of Moctader, the bridges had been destroyed, and the rebel's head was expected by the commander of the faithful at any moment. His lieutenant, acting out of fear or pity, warned Abu Taher of his imminent danger and suggested a quick escape. "Your master," replied the fearless Carmathian to the messenger, "has thirty thousand soldiers: three such men are missing from his ranks." At that instant, turning to three of his companions, he ordered the first to stab himself in the chest, the second to jump into the Tigris, and the third to throw himself off a cliff. They complied without hesitation. "Tell," continued the imam, "what you have seen: by evening, your general will be chained among my dogs." By evening, the camp was taken by surprise, and the threat was fulfilled. The looting of the Carmathians was justified by their contempt for the worship of Mecca: they robbed a caravan of pilgrims, leaving twenty thousand devout Muslims to die of hunger and thirst on the burning sands. The following year, they allowed the pilgrims to proceed without interruption; but during the festival of devotion, Abu Taher attacked the holy city, desecrating the most revered relics of the Muslim faith. Thirty thousand citizens and visitors were slaughtered; the sacred grounds were stained by the burial of three thousand bodies; the well of Zemzem overflowed with blood; the golden spout was wrenched from its place; the veil of the Kaaba was divided among these impious followers; and the black stone, the first monument of the nation, was triumphantly carried to their capital. After this act of sacrilege and brutality, they continued to infest the borders of Iraq, Syria, and Egypt: but the core of their enthusiasm had withered away. Their doubts, or perhaps their greed, reopened the pilgrimage to Mecca, and they returned the black stone to the Kaaba; and it is unnecessary to delve into which factions fragmented them, or by whose swords they were ultimately vanquished. The Carmathian sect can be seen as a significant factor in the decline and fall of the caliphate empire.





Chapter LII: More Conquests By The Arabs.—Part V.

The third and most obvious cause was the weight and magnitude of the empire itself. The caliph Almamon might proudly assert, that it was easier for him to rule the East and the West, than to manage a chess-board of two feet square: yet I suspect that in both those games he was guilty of many fatal mistakes; and I perceive, that in the distant provinces the authority of the first and most powerful of the Abbassides was already impaired. The analogy of despotism invests the representative with the full majesty of the prince; the division and balance of powers might relax the habits of obedience, might encourage the passive subject to inquire into the origin and administration of civil government. He who is born in the purple is seldom worthy to reign; but the elevation of a private man, of a peasant, perhaps, or a slave, affords a strong presumption of his courage and capacity. The viceroy of a remote kingdom aspires to secure the property and inheritance of his precarious trust; the nations must rejoice in the presence of their sovereign; and the command of armies and treasures are at once the object and the instrument of his ambition. A change was scarcely visible as long as the lieutenants of the caliph were content with their vicarious title; while they solicited for themselves or their sons a renewal of the Imperial grant, and still maintained on the coin and in the public prayers the name and prerogative of the commander of the faithful. But in the long and hereditary exercise of power, they assumed the pride and attributes of royalty; the alternative of peace or war, of reward or punishment, depended solely on their will; and the revenues of their government were reserved for local services or private magnificence. Instead of a regular supply of men and money, the successors of the prophet were flattered with the ostentatious gift of an elephant, or a cast of hawks, a suit of silk hangings, or some pounds of musk and amber.

The third and clearest reason was the sheer size and weight of the empire itself. Caliph Almamon might boast that it was easier for him to govern both the East and West than to manage a chessboard of two feet square; yet I suspect that in both situations he made many serious mistakes. It's clear that in the far provinces, the authority of the first and most powerful Abbasids was already weakened. The analogy of dictatorship gives the representative all the power of a prince; the division and balance of powers might lessen the habits of obedience and encourage the passive subjects to question the origins and management of civil government. Those born into power are rarely fit to rule; however, the rise of a common person, perhaps a peasant or even a slave, strongly suggests his courage and ability. The viceroy of a distant kingdom aims to secure the property and legacy of his uncertain position; the people should celebrate the presence of their ruler, and the control of armies and wealth are both his ambition's goal and means. A change was hardly noticeable as long as the caliph's lieutenants were satisfied with their vicarious titles; while they sought to renew the Imperial grant for themselves or their sons and continued to feature the name and authority of the commander of the faithful on coins and in public prayers. But through the long and hereditary exercise of power, they took on the pride and traits of royalty; the choices of peace or war, reward or punishment, depended solely on their wishes, and the taxes from their governance were kept for local needs or personal splendor. Instead of a regular supply of troops and funds, the successors of the prophet were flattered with lavish gifts like an elephant, a group of hawks, a set of silk hangings, or some pounds of musk and amber.

After the revolt of Spain from the temporal and spiritual supremacy of the Abbassides, the first symptoms of disobedience broke forth in the province of Africa. Ibrahim, the son of Aglab, the lieutenant of the vigilant and rigid Harun, bequeathed to the dynasty of the Aglabite the inheritance of his name and power. The indolence or policy of the caliphs dissembled the injury and loss, and pursued only with poison the founder of the Edrisites, who erected the kingdom and city of Fez on the shores of the Western ocean. In the East, the first dynasty was that of the Taherites; the posterity of the valiant Taher, who, in the civil wars of the sons of Harun, had served with too much zeal and success the cause of Almamon, the younger brother. He was sent into honorable exile, to command on the banks of the Oxus; and the independence of his successors, who reigned in Chorasan till the fourth generation, was palliated by their modest and respectful demeanor, the happiness of their subjects and the security of their frontier. They were supplanted by one of those adventures so frequent in the annals of the East, who left his trade of a brazier (from whence the name of Soffarides) for the profession of a robber. In a nocturnal visit to the treasure of the prince of Sistan, Jacob, the son of Leith, stumbled over a lump of salt, which he unwarily tasted with his tongue. Salt, among the Orientals, is the symbol of hospitality, and the pious robber immediately retired without spoil or damage. The discovery of this honorable behavior recommended Jacob to pardon and trust; he led an army at first for his benefactor, at last for himself, subdued Persia, and threatened the residence of the Abbassides. On his march towards Bagdad, the conqueror was arrested by a fever. He gave audience in bed to the ambassador of the caliph; and beside him on a table were exposed a naked cimeter, a crust of brown bread, and a bunch of onions. "If I die," said he, "your master is delivered from his fears. If I live, this must determine between us. If I am vanquished, I can return without reluctance to the homely fare of my youth." From the height where he stood, the descent would not have been so soft or harmless: a timely death secured his own repose and that of the caliph, who paid with the most lavish concessions the retreat of his brother Amrou to the palaces of Shiraz and Ispahan. The Abbassides were too feeble to contend, too proud to forgive: they invited the powerful dynasty of the Samanides, who passed the Oxus with ten thousand horse so poor, that their stirrups were of wood: so brave, that they vanquished the Soffarian army, eight times more numerous than their own. The captive Amrou was sent in chains, a grateful offering to the court of Bagdad; and as the victor was content with the inheritance of Transoxiana and Chorasan, the realms of Persia returned for a while to the allegiance of the caliphs. The provinces of Syria and Egypt were twice dismembered by their Turkish slaves of the race of Toulon and Ilkshid. These Barbarians, in religion and manners the countrymen of Mahomet, emerged from the bloody factions of the palace to a provincial command and an independent throne: their names became famous and formidable in their time; but the founders of these two potent dynasties confessed, either in words or actions, the vanity of ambition. The first on his death-bed implored the mercy of God to a sinner, ignorant of the limits of his own power: the second, in the midst of four hundred thousand soldiers and eight thousand slaves, concealed from every human eye the chamber where he attempted to sleep. Their sons were educated in the vices of kings; and both Egypt and Syria were recovered and possessed by the Abbassides during an interval of thirty years. In the decline of their empire, Mesopotamia, with the important cities of Mosul and Aleppo, was occupied by the Arabian princes of the tribe of Hamadan. The poets of their court could repeat without a blush, that nature had formed their countenances for beauty, their tongues for eloquence, and their hands for liberality and valor: but the genuine tale of the elevation and reign of the Hamadanites exhibits a scene of treachery, murder, and parricide. At the same fatal period, the Persian kingdom was again usurped by the dynasty of the Bowides, by the sword of three brothers, who, under various names, were styled the support and columns of the state, and who, from the Caspian Sea to the ocean, would suffer no tyrants but themselves. Under their reign, the language and genius of Persia revived, and the Arabs, three hundred and four years after the death of Mahomet, were deprived of the sceptre of the East.

After Spain revolted against the rule of the Abbassides, signs of disobedience emerged in Africa. Ibrahim, the son of Aglab, the loyal and strict lieutenant of Harun, passed on his name and power to the Aglabite dynasty. The caliphs ignored the damage and losses, only subtly targeting the founder of the Edrisites, who established the kingdom and city of Fez along the Western ocean. In the East, the first dynasty was the Taherites, descendants of the brave Taher, who had fiercely supported Almamon, Harun's younger brother, during their civil wars. He was exiled with honor to command along the Oxus River, and his successors ruled in Chorasan for four generations, maintaining their independence due to their humble and respectful attitude, the happiness of their people, and the security of their borders. They were ultimately replaced by one of those typical Eastern adventurers, who abandoned his job as a brazier (hence the name Soffarides) to become a robber. During a nighttime raid on the treasure of the prince of Sistan, Jacob, the son of Leith, accidentally tasted a lump of salt he stumbled over. In Eastern culture, salt symbolizes hospitality, so the honorable robber retreated without taking anything. This act of respect earned Jacob forgiveness and trust; he initially led an army for his benefactor and later for himself, conquering Persia and threatening the Abbassid capital. As he headed towards Bagdad, he was struck by a fever. While bedridden, he met with the caliph's ambassador, with a naked sword, a piece of brown bread, and a bunch of onions displayed on a table beside him. "If I die," he remarked, "your master is free from his worries. If I live, this must decide our fate. If I'm defeated, I can return to the simple food of my youth." The fall from his position wouldn't be soft or easy: a timely death ensured his peace and the caliph's safety, who conceded lavishly to allow his brother Amrou to retreat to the palaces of Shiraz and Ispahan. The Abbassids were too weak to fight back and too proud to forgive: they called upon the powerful Samanid dynasty, who crossed the Oxus with 10,000 soldiers so poor, their stirrups were made of wood; yet they were courageous enough to defeat the Soffarid army, which outnumbered them eightfold. Amrou, captured, was sent in chains as a grateful gift to the Bagdad court; and as the victor was content with the inheritance of Transoxiana and Chorasan, Persia temporarily returned to the caliph's authority. The provinces of Syria and Egypt were divided twice by their Turkish slaves of the Toulon and Ilkshid lineage. These Barbarians, sharing Mahomet's religion and customs, rose from the palace's bloody conflicts to provincial command and independent rule: their names became renowned in their time, but the founders of these powerful dynasties ultimately acknowledged, through words or actions, the futility of ambition. The first, on his deathbed, implored God for mercy as a sinner unaware of the limits of his own power; the second, surrounded by 400,000 soldiers and 8,000 slaves, hid the chamber where he tried to sleep from all eyes. Their sons grew up with the vices of kings; and both Egypt and Syria were reclaimed by the Abbassids after thirty years. As their empire declined, Mesopotamia, including the major cities of Mosul and Aleppo, fell under the control of the Arabian princes from the Hamadan tribe. The poets at their court boasted that nature had shaped their faces for beauty, their tongues for eloquence, and their hands for generosity and bravery; yet the true story of the Hamadanites' rise and reign is filled with betrayal, murder, and patricide. At the same grim time, the Persian kingdom was once again taken over by the Bowides, three brothers who, under various titles, were known as the supports of the state and who wouldn't allow any rulers but themselves from the Caspian Sea to the ocean. During their reign, Persian language and culture flourished, and the Arabs, three hundred and four years after Mahomet's death, lost control of the East.

Rahadi, the twentieth of the Abbassides, and the thirty-ninth of the successors of Mahomet, was the last who deserved the title of commander of the faithful; the last (says Abulfeda) who spoke to the people, or conversed with the learned; the last who, in the expense of his household, represented the wealth and magnificence of the ancient caliphs. After him, the lords of the Eastern world were reduced to the most abject misery, and exposed to the blows and insults of a servile condition. The revolt of the provinces circumscribed their dominions within the walls of Bagdad: but that capital still contained an innumerable multitude, vain of their past fortune, discontented with their present state, and oppressed by the demands of a treasury which had formerly been replenished by the spoil and tribute of nations. Their idleness was exercised by faction and controversy. Under the mask of piety, the rigid followers of Hanbal invaded the pleasures of domestic life, burst into the houses of plebeians and princes, the wine, broke the instruments, beat the musicians, and dishonored, with infamous suspicions, the associates of every handsome youth. In each profession, which allowed room for two persons, the one was a votary, the other an antagonist, of Ali; and the Abbassides were awakened by the clamorous grief of the sectaries, who denied their title, and cursed their progenitors. A turbulent people could only be repressed by a military force; but who could satisfy the avarice or assert the discipline of the mercenaries themselves? The African and the Turkish guards drew their swords against each other, and the chief commanders, the emirs al Omra, imprisoned or deposed their sovereigns, and violated the sanctuary of the mosch and harem. If the caliphs escaped to the camp or court of any neighboring prince, their deliverance was a change of servitude, till they were prompted by despair to invite the Bowides, the sultans of Persia, who silenced the factions of Bagdad by their irresistible arms. The civil and military powers were assumed by Moezaldowlat, the second of the three brothers, and a stipend of sixty thousand pounds sterling was assigned by his generosity for the private expense of the commander of the faithful. But on the fortieth day, at the audience of the ambassadors of Chorasan, and in the presence of a trembling multitude, the caliph was dragged from his throne to a dungeon, by the command of the stranger, and the rude hands of his Dilemites. His palace was pillaged, his eyes were put out, and the mean ambition of the Abbassides aspired to the vacant station of danger and disgrace. In the school of adversity, the luxurious caliphs resumed the grave and abstemious virtues of the primitive times. Despoiled of their armor and silken robes, they fasted, they prayed, they studied the Koran and the tradition of the Sonnites: they performed, with zeal and knowledge, the functions of their ecclesiastical character. The respect of nations still waited on the successors of the apostle, the oracles of the law and conscience of the faithful; and the weakness or division of their tyrants sometimes restored the Abbassides to the sovereignty of Bagdad. But their misfortunes had been imbittered by the triumph of the Fatimites, the real or spurious progeny of Ali. Arising from the extremity of Africa, these successful rivals extinguished, in Egypt and Syria, both the spiritual and temporal authority of the Abbassides; and the monarch of the Nile insulted the humble pontiff on the banks of the Tigris.

Rahadi, the twentieth of the Abbassides and the thirty-ninth successor of Mahomet, was the last who truly deserved the title of commander of the faithful; the last (as Abulfeda notes) who engaged with the public or interacted with scholars; the last who, through his household expenses, displayed the wealth and grandeur of the ancient caliphs. After him, the rulers of the Eastern world fell into extreme poverty and faced the blows and insults of a degraded condition. The revolt of the provinces limited their power to the walls of Bagdad: yet that capital still housed countless people, proud of their past prosperity, disenchanted with their current status, and burdened by the demands of a treasury that had once been filled with the plunder and taxes of nations. Their idleness was filled with factions and disputes. Under the guise of piety, the strict followers of Hanbal attacked the comforts of domestic life, stormed the homes of commoners and nobles, smashed wine bottles, destroyed instruments, beat musicians, and scandalously accused the companions of every attractive young man. In every profession that allowed for two roles, one was a follower and the other an opponent of Ali; the Abbassides were disturbed by the loud grief of the sectarians, who denied their legitimacy and cursed their ancestors. A restless populace could only be controlled by military force; but who could satisfy the greed or enforce the discipline of the mercenaries? The African and Turkish guards clashed with each other, the chief commanders, the emirs al Omra, imprisoned or overthrew their rulers and violated the sanctity of the mosque and harem. If the caliphs sought refuge in the court or camp of a neighboring prince, their salvation simply meant a change of servitude, until desperation drove them to call upon the Bowides, the sultans of Persia, who quelled the factions of Bagdad with their unstoppable military might. Moezaldowlat, the second of the three brothers, assumed both civil and military authority, and generously allocated a stipend of sixty thousand pounds for the personal expenses of the commander of the faithful. But on the fortieth day, during the audience with the ambassadors of Chorasan, in front of a fearful crowd, the caliph was dragged from his throne to a dungeon by the order of the foreigner and the rough hands of his Dilemites. His palace was looted, his eyes were gouged out, and the petty ambitions of the Abbassides aimed for the dangerous and disgraceful vacant position. In the school of hardship, the indulgent caliphs adopted the serious and austere virtues of earlier times. Stripped of their armor and lavish robes, they fasted, prayed, and studied the Koran and the teachings of the Sunnis. They diligently and knowledgeably performed their ecclesiastical duties. The respect of nations continued to surround the successors of the apostle, the authorities of law and the moral conscience of the faithful; and the weakness or divisions among their oppressors sometimes led to the restoration of the Abbassides' control over Bagdad. However, their misfortunes were exacerbated by the triumph of the Fatimites, the genuine or false descendants of Ali. Rising from the far reaches of Africa, these successful rivals extinguished both the spiritual and temporal power of the Abbassides in Egypt and Syria; and the ruler of the Nile insulted the humble pontiff on the banks of the Tigris.

In the declining age of the caliphs, in the century which elapsed after the war of Theophilus and Motassem, the hostile transactions of the two nations were confined to some inroads by sea and land, the fruits of their close vicinity and indelible hatred. But when the Eastern world was convulsed and broken, the Greeks were roused from their lethargy by the hopes of conquest and revenge. The Byzantine empire, since the accession of the Basilian race, had reposed in peace and dignity; and they might encounter with their entire strength the front of some petty emir, whose rear was assaulted and threatened by his national foes of the Mahometan faith. The lofty titles of the morning star, and the death of the Saracens, were applied in the public acclamations to Nicephorus Phocas, a prince as renowned in the camp, as he was unpopular in the city. In the subordinate station of great domestic, or general of the East, he reduced the Island of Crete, and extirpated the nest of pirates who had so long defied, with impunity, the majesty of the empire. His military genius was displayed in the conduct and success of the enterprise, which had so often failed with loss and dishonor. The Saracens were confounded by the landing of his troops on safe and level bridges, which he cast from the vessels to the shore. Seven months were consumed in the siege of Candia; the despair of the native Cretans was stimulated by the frequent aid of their brethren of Africa and Spain; and after the massy wall and double ditch had been stormed by the Greeks a hopeless conflict was still maintained in the streets and houses of the city. The whole island was subdued in the capital, and a submissive people accepted, without resistance, the baptism of the conqueror. Constantinople applauded the long-forgotten pomp of a triumph; but the Imperial diadem was the sole reward that could repay the services, or satisfy the ambition, of Nicephorus.

In the declining era of the caliphs, a century after the war between Theophilus and Motassem, the conflicts between the two nations were limited to some raids by sea and land, the result of their close proximity and deep-seated hatred. However, when the Eastern world was shaken and fragmented, the Greeks were awakened from their slumber by hopes of conquest and revenge. The Byzantine Empire, since the rise of the Basilian dynasty, had enjoyed peace and dignity; they were able to face even a minor emir with full force, while his back was threatened by his national enemies of the Muslim faith. The grand titles of “morning star” and “the end of the Saracens” were bestowed upon Nicephorus Phocas, a prince celebrated in battle but unpopular in the city. In his lower role as the great domestic or general of the East, he conquered the Island of Crete and eradicated the band of pirates who had long defied the empire's authority with impunity. His military brilliance was evident in the strategy and success of an operation that had often ended in failure and disgrace. The Saracens were thrown into confusion by the landing of his troops via secure and even bridges that he built from the ships to the shore. The siege of Candia lasted for seven months; the despair of the local Cretans was fueled by the constant support from their fellow countrymen in Africa and Spain. Even after the strong walls and double moat were breached by the Greeks, a desperate fight continued in the city's streets and homes. The entire island was subdued at the capital, and a compliant population accepted the conqueror’s baptism without resistance. Constantinople celebrated the long-forgotten splendor of a triumph, but the Imperial crown was the only reward that could satisfy the services or ambition of Nicephorus.

After the death of the younger Romanus, the fourth in lineal descent of the Basilian race, his widow Theophania successively married Nicephorus Phocas and his assassin John Zimisces, the two heroes of the age. They reigned as the guardians and colleagues of her infant sons; and the twelve years of their military command form the most splendid period of the Byzantine annals. The subjects and confederates, whom they led to war, appeared, at least in the eyes of an enemy, two hundred thousand strong; and of these about thirty thousand were armed with cuirasses: a train of four thousand mules attended their march; and their evening camp was regularly fortified with an enclosure of iron spikes. A series of bloody and undecisive combats is nothing more than an anticipation of what would have been effected in a few years by the course of nature; but I shall briefly prosecute the conquests of the two emperors from the hills of Cappadocia to the desert of Bagdad. The sieges of Mopsuestia and Tarsus, in Cilicia, first exercised the skill and perseverance of their troops, on whom, at this moment, I shall not hesitate to bestow the name of Romans. In the double city of Mopsuestia, which is divided by the River Sarus, two hundred thousand Moslems were predestined to death or slavery, a surprising degree of population, which must at least include the inhabitants of the dependent districts. They were surrounded and taken by assault; but Tarsus was reduced by the slow progress of famine; and no sooner had the Saracens yielded on honorable terms than they were mortified by the distant and unprofitable view of the naval succors of Egypt. They were dismissed with a safe-conduct to the confines of Syria: a part of the old Christians had quietly lived under their dominion; and the vacant habitations were replenished by a new colony. But the mosch was converted into a stable; the pulpit was delivered to the flames; many rich crosses of gold and gems, the spoils of Asiatic churches, were made a grateful offering to the piety or avarice of the emperor; and he transported the gates of Mopsuestia and Tarsus, which were fixed in the walls of Constantinople, an eternal monument of his victory. After they had forced and secured the narrow passes of Mount Amanus, the two Roman princes repeatedly carried their arms into the heart of Syria. Yet, instead of assaulting the walls of Antioch, the humanity or superstition of Nicephorus appeared to respect the ancient metropolis of the East: he contented himself with drawing round the city a line of circumvallation; left a stationary army; and instructed his lieutenant to expect, without impatience, the return of spring. But in the depth of winter, in a dark and rainy night, an adventurous subaltern, with three hundred soldiers, approached the rampart, applied his scaling-ladders, occupied two adjacent towers, stood firm against the pressure of multitudes, and bravely maintained his post till he was relieved by the tardy, though effectual, support of his reluctant chief. The first tumult of slaughter and rapine subsided; the reign of Cæsar and of Christ was restored; and the efforts of a hundred thousand Saracens, of the armies of Syria and the fleets of Africa, were consumed without effect before the walls of Antioch. The royal city of Aleppo was subject to Seifeddowlat, of the dynasty of Hamadan, who clouded his past glory by the precipitate retreat which abandoned his kingdom and capital to the Roman invaders. In his stately palace, that stood without the walls of Aleppo, they joyfully seized a well-furnished magazine of arms, a stable of fourteen hundred mules, and three hundred bags of silver and gold. But the walls of the city withstood the strokes of their battering-rams: and the besiegers pitched their tents on the neighboring mountain of Jaushan. Their retreat exasperated the quarrel of the townsmen and mercenaries; the guard of the gates and ramparts was deserted; and while they furiously charged each other in the market-place, they were surprised and destroyed by the sword of a common enemy. The male sex was exterminated by the sword; ten thousand youths were led into captivity; the weight of the precious spoil exceeded the strength and number of the beasts of burden; the superfluous remainder was burnt; and, after a licentious possession of ten days, the Romans marched away from the naked and bleeding city. In their Syrian inroads they commanded the husbandmen to cultivate their lands, that they themselves, in the ensuing season, might reap the benefit; more than a hundred cities were reduced to obedience; and eighteen pulpits of the principal moschs were committed to the flames to expiate the sacrilege of the disciples of Mahomet. The classic names of Hierapolis, Apamea, and Emesa, revive for a moment in the list of conquest: the emperor Zimisces encamped in the paradise of Damascus, and accepted the ransom of a submissive people; and the torrent was only stopped by the impregnable fortress of Tripoli, on the sea-coast of Phœnicia. Since the days of Heraclius, the Euphrates, below the passage of Mount Taurus, had been impervious, and almost invisible, to the Greeks. The river yielded a free passage to the victorious Zimisces; and the historian may imitate the speed with which he overran the once famous cities of Samosata, Edessa, Martyropolis, Amida, and Nisibis, the ancient limit of the empire in the neighborhood of the Tigris. His ardor was quickened by the desire of grasping the virgin treasures of Ecbatana, a well-known name, under which the Byzantine writer has concealed the capital of the Abbassides. The consternation of the fugitives had already diffused the terror of his name; but the fancied riches of Bagdad had already been dissipated by the avarice and prodigality of domestic tyrants. The prayers of the people, and the stern demands of the lieutenant of the Bowides, required the caliph to provide for the defence of the city. The helpless Mothi replied, that his arms, his revenues, and his provinces, had been torn from his hands, and that he was ready to abdicate a dignity which he was unable to support. The emir was inexorable; the furniture of the palace was sold; and the paltry price of forty thousand pieces of gold was instantly consumed in private luxury. But the apprehensions of Bagdad were relieved by the retreat of the Greeks: thirst and hunger guarded the desert of Mesopotamia; and the emperor, satiated with glory, and laden with Oriental spoils, returned to Constantinople, and displayed, in his triumph, the silk, the aromatics, and three hundred myriads of gold and silver. Yet the powers of the East had been bent, not broken, by this transient hurricane. After the departure of the Greeks, the fugitive princes returned to their capitals; the subjects disclaimed their involuntary oaths of allegiance; the Moslems again purified their temples, and overturned the idols of the saints and martyrs; the Nestorians and Jacobites preferred a Saracen to an orthodox master; and the numbers and spirit of the Melchites were inadequate to the support of the church and state. Of these extensive conquests, Antioch, with the cities of Cilicia and the Isle of Cyprus, was alone restored, a permanent and useful accession to the Roman empire.

After the death of the younger Romanus, the fourth in the line of the Basilian family, his widow Theophania went on to marry Nicephorus Phocas and then his assassin John Zimisces, two prominent figures of the time. They served as guardians and co-rulers for her young sons, and their twelve years of military leadership marked the most glorious period in Byzantine history. The forces they commanded, as viewed by their enemies, numbered around two hundred thousand; of these, about thirty thousand were equipped with armor. Their march was supported by a convoy of four thousand mules, and they regularly fortified their evening camps with iron spikes. The series of bloody, inconclusive battles merely anticipated what would eventually occur naturally; I will briefly recount the conquests of the two emperors from the hills of Cappadocia to the desert near Baghdad. The sieges of Mopsuestia and Tarsus in Cilicia tested the skill and perseverance of their troops, whom I will confidently refer to as Romans. In the dual city of Mopsuestia, separated by the River Sarus, two hundred thousand Muslims faced death or slavery, an astonishing population that included the residents of surrounding areas. They were surrounded and captured by an assault, while Tarsus fell due to the slow onset of famine. As soon as the Saracens surrendered under honorable conditions, they were left humiliated by the sight of naval reinforcements from Egypt that were of no benefit to them. They were granted safe passage to the borders of Syria; some old Christians lived peacefully under their rule, and the abandoned homes were filled by new settlers. The mosque was transformed into a stable, the pulpit was set ablaze, and many rich crosses made of gold and gems, looted from Asian churches, were offered to the emperor, whether out of devotion or greed. He also transported the gates of Mopsuestia and Tarsus to Constantinople, creating a lasting monument to his victory. After securing the narrow passes of Mount Amanus, the two Roman princes repeatedly invaded the heart of Syria. Yet, instead of attacking the walls of Antioch, Nicephorus's sense of humanity or perhaps superstition led him to show respect for this ancient eastern metropolis; he settled for establishing a line of circumvallation around the city, left a stationary army, and instructed his lieutenant to wait patiently for spring to return. However, in the depths of winter, on a dark and rainy night, a daring subordinate, with three hundred troops, approached the walls, set up scaling ladders, took over two nearby towers, held firm against overwhelming numbers, and bravely maintained his position until relieved by the delayed but effective support of his reluctant leader. The initial chaos of slaughter and looting eventually calmed down; the reign of Caesar and Christ was restored, and the efforts of one hundred thousand Saracens, alongside the armies of Syria and fleets from Africa, ended in failure against the walls of Antioch. The royal city of Aleppo was under the control of Seifeddowlat from the Hamadan dynasty, who tarnished his previous glory with a hasty retreat that left his kingdom and capital vulnerable to the Roman invaders. In his grand palace outside Aleppo, the Romans seized a well-stocked armory, a stable of fourteen hundred mules, and three hundred bags of silver and gold. However, the city's walls resisted the pounding of their siege machines, and the besiegers set up camp on the nearby Jaushan mountain. Their retreat fueled ongoing conflicts between the townspeople and mercenaries; the gate and rampart guards fled, and while they fought fiercely in the market, they were caught off guard and slaughtered by a common enemy. The male population was exterminated; ten thousand young men were taken captive; the weight of the loot exceeded the strength and number of their pack animals; the excess was burned; and after ten days of uncontrolled occupation, the Romans left the battered, empty city behind. During their incursions into Syria, they ordered farmers to cultivate their lands to reap the benefits in the next season; over a hundred cities submitted; and eighteen pulpits from major mosques were burned to atone for the sacrilege against the followers of Muhammad. The classic names of Hierapolis, Apamea, and Emesa briefly resurfaced in the list of conquests: Emperor Zimisces camped in the lush paradise of Damascus and accepted a ransom from the subservient population; the onslaught was only halted by the impenetrable fortress of Tripoli on the coast of Phoenicia. Since the days of Heraclius, the Euphrates, downstream from Mount Taurus, had been unreachable and nearly invisible to the Greeks. The river opened a clear path for the victorious Zimisces; and the historian may note the rapidity with which he conquered the once-celebrated cities of Samosata, Edessa, Martyropolis, Amida, and Nisibis, the ancient frontier of the empire near the Tigris. His eagerness was driven by the wish to seize the untouched treasures of Ecbatana, a well-known name concealing the capital of the Abbasids. The panic among the fleeing elite had already spread the terror of his name; however, the imagined riches of Baghdad had been squandered by the greed and extravagance of local tyrants. The people's pleas and stern demands from the lieutenant of the Bowides compelled the caliph to prepare the city's defenses. The powerless Mothi replied that all his resources, revenue, and territories had been taken from him, and he was willing to give up a title he couldn't maintain. The emir was merciless; palace furniture was sold off, and the meager sum of forty thousand gold pieces was quickly consumed in indulgence. But Baghdad's fears were alleviated by the Greeks' departure: thirst and starvation guarded the Mesopotamian desert; and the emperor, satisfied with his glory and laden with Eastern riches, returned to Constantinople, displaying silk, spices, and three hundred million gold and silver coins during his triumph. Nevertheless, the Eastern powers had been bent but not broken by this fleeting storm. After the Greeks left, the fleeing princes returned to their capitals; the citizens rejected their involuntary oaths of loyalty; the Muslims restored their temples and overthrew the idols of saints and martyrs; the Nestorians and Jacobites preferred a Saracen ruler over an orthodox one; and the numbers and spirit of the Melchites were insufficient to uphold church and state. Of these vast conquests, Antioch, along with the cities of Cilicia and the Isle of Cyprus, was the only territory returned, adding a lasting and valuable piece to the Roman Empire.





Chapter LIII: Fate Of The Eastern Empire.—Part I.

     Fate Of The Eastern Empire In The Tenth Century.—Extent And
     Division.—Wealth And Revenue.—Palace Of Constantinople.—
     Titles And Offices.—Pride And Power Of The Emperors.—
     Tactics Of The Greeks, Arabs, And Franks.—Loss Of The Latin
     Tongue.—Studies And Solitude Of The Greeks.
     Fate Of The Eastern Empire In The Tenth Century.—Extent And
     Division.—Wealth And Revenue.—Palace Of Constantinople.—
     Titles And Offices.—Pride And Power Of The Emperors.—
     Tactics Of The Greeks, Arabs, And Franks.—Loss Of The Latin
     Tongue.—Studies And Solitude Of The Greeks.

A ray of historic light seems to beam from the darkness of the tenth century. We open with curiosity and respect the royal volumes of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, which he composed at a mature age for the instruction of his son, and which promise to unfold the state of the eastern empire, both in peace and war, both at home and abroad. In the first of these works he minutely describes the pompous ceremonies of the church and palace of Constantinople, according to his own practice, and that of his predecessors. In the second, he attempts an accurate survey of the provinces, the themes, as they were then denominated, both of Europe and Asia. The system of Roman tactics, the discipline and order of the troops, and the military operations by land and sea, are explained in the third of these didactic collections, which may be ascribed to Constantine or his father Leo. In the fourth, of the administration of the empire, he reveals the secrets of the Byzantine policy, in friendly or hostile intercourse with the nations of the earth. The literary labors of the age, the practical systems of law, agriculture, and history, might redound to the benefit of the subject and the honor of the Macedonian princes. The sixty books of the Basilics, the code and pandects of civil jurisprudence, were gradually framed in the three first reigns of that prosperous dynasty. The art of agriculture had amused the leisure, and exercised the pens, of the best and wisest of the ancients; and their chosen precepts are comprised in the twenty books of the Geoponics of Constantine. At his command, the historical examples of vice and virtue were methodized in fifty-three books, and every citizen might apply, to his contemporaries or himself, the lesson or the warning of past times. From the august character of a legislator, the sovereign of the East descends to the more humble office of a teacher and a scribe; and if his successors and subjects were regardless of his paternal cares, we may inherit and enjoy the everlasting legacy.

A ray of historic light seems to shine from the darkness of the tenth century. We approach with curiosity and respect the royal writings of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, which he created at an older age for the education of his son, and which promise to reveal the state of the eastern empire, both in times of peace and war, both at home and abroad. In the first of these works, he carefully describes the grand ceremonies of the church and palace of Constantinople, based on his own experiences and those of his predecessors. In the second, he attempts a detailed overview of the provinces, called the themes, in both Europe and Asia. The system of Roman tactics, the discipline and organization of the troops, and the military actions by land and sea are outlined in the third of these educational collections, which can be attributed to Constantine or his father Leo. In the fourth, concerning the administration of the empire, he reveals the intricacies of Byzantine policy, both in friendly and hostile relations with other nations. The intellectual contributions of the time, along with practical systems of law, agriculture, and history, could benefit the populace and bring honor to the Macedonian princes. The sixty books of the Basilics, the code and compilations of civil law, were gradually developed during the first three reigns of that successful dynasty. The practice of agriculture had engaged the leisure and attention of the best and wisest of the ancients; their selected teachings are compiled in the twenty books of the Geoponics of Constantine. At his command, the historical accounts of vice and virtue were organized into fifty-three books, allowing every citizen to relate the lessons or warnings of the past to their contemporaries or themselves. From the noble role of a legislator, the ruler of the East takes on the more modest role of a teacher and a scribe; and even if his successors and subjects ignored his paternal guidance, we may inherit and enjoy the lasting legacy.

A closer survey will indeed reduce the value of the gift, and the gratitude of posterity: in the possession of these Imperial treasures we may still deplore our poverty and ignorance; and the fading glories of their authors will be obliterated by indifference or contempt. The Basilics will sink to a broken copy, a partial and mutilated version, in the Greek language, of the laws of Justinian; but the sense of the old civilians is often superseded by the influence of bigotry: and the absolute prohibition of divorce, concubinage, and interest for money, enslaves the freedom of trade and the happiness of private life. In the historical book, a subject of Constantine might admire the inimitable virtues of Greece and Rome: he might learn to what a pitch of energy and elevation the human character had formerly aspired. But a contrary effect must have been produced by a new edition of the lives of the saints, which the great logothete, or chancellor of the empire, was directed to prepare; and the dark fund of superstition was enriched by the fabulous and florid legends of Simon the Metaphrast. The merits and miracles of the whole calendar are of less account in the eyes of a sage, than the toil of a single husbandman, who multiplies the gifts of the Creator, and supplies the food of his brethren. Yet the royal authors of the Geoponics were more seriously employed in expounding the precepts of the destroying art, which had been taught since the days of Xenophon, as the art of heroes and kings. But the Tactics of Leo and Constantine are mingled with the baser alloy of the age in which they lived. It was destitute of original genius; they implicitly transcribe the rules and maxims which had been confirmed by victories. It was unskilled in the propriety of style and method; they blindly confound the most distant and discordant institutions, the phalanx of Sparta and that of Macedon, the legions of Cato and Trajan, of Augustus and Theodosius. Even the use, or at least the importance, of these military rudiments may be fairly questioned: their general theory is dictated by reason; but the merit, as well as difficulty, consists in the application. The discipline of a soldier is formed by exercise rather than by study: the talents of a commander are appropriated to those calm, though rapid, minds, which nature produces to decide the fate of armies and nations: the former is the habit of a life, the latter the glance of a moment; and the battles won by lessons of tactics may be numbered with the epic poems created from the rules of criticism. The book of ceremonies is a recital, tedious yet imperfect, of the despicable pageantry which had infected the church and state since the gradual decay of the purity of the one and the power of the other. A review of the themes or provinces might promise such authentic and useful information, as the curiosity of government only can obtain, instead of traditionary fables on the origin of the cities, and malicious epigrams on the vices of their inhabitants. Such information the historian would have been pleased to record; nor should his silence be condemned if the most interesting objects, the population of the capital and provinces, the amount of the taxes and revenues, the numbers of subjects and strangers who served under the Imperial standard, have been unnoticed by Leo the philosopher, and his son Constantine. His treatise of the public administration is stained with the same blemishes; yet it is discriminated by peculiar merit; the antiquities of the nations may be doubtful or fabulous; but the geography and manners of the Barbaric world are delineated with curious accuracy. Of these nations, the Franks alone were qualified to observe in their turn, and to describe, the metropolis of the East. The ambassador of the great Otho, a bishop of Cremona, has painted the state of Constantinople about the middle of the tenth century: his style is glowing, his narrative lively, his observation keen; and even the prejudices and passions of Liutprand are stamped with an original character of freedom and genius. From this scanty fund of foreign and domestic materials, I shall investigate the form and substance of the Byzantine empire; the provinces and wealth, the civil government and military force, the character and literature, of the Greeks in a period of six hundred years, from the reign of Heraclius to his successful invasion of the Franks or Latins.

A closer look will definitely lessen the value of the gift and the gratitude of future generations. While we possess these imperial treasures, we may still lament our poverty and ignorance; and the fading glories of their creators will be lost to indifference or scorn. The *Basilics* will fade into a broken copy, a partial and incomplete version in Greek of Justinian’s laws; however, the insights of ancient legal scholars are often overshadowed by the influence of intolerance: the absolute ban on divorce, concubinage, and interest on money restricts trade freedom and personal happiness. In the historical accounts, a subject of Constantine might admire the unmatched virtues of Greece and Rome: they might learn the heights to which human character once aspired. But a new edition of the lives of saints, which the great logothete, or chancellor of the empire, was instructed to create, likely produced a contrasting effect; the dark well of superstition was enriched by the extravagant and fanciful legends of Simon the *Metaphrast*. The merits and miracles of the entire calendar are less significant in the eyes of a wise person than the hard work of a single farmer, who enhances the Creator’s gifts and provides food for his fellow humans. Yet, the royal authors of the *Geoponics* were more seriously dedicated to explaining the principles of the destructive art, which had been taught since the days of Xenophon as the craft of heroes and kings. But the *Tactics* of Leo and Constantine are mixed with the lesser quality of the era they lived in. It lacked original genius; they simply copied the rules and maxims that had been validated by victories. They were unskilled in style and method; they blindly mixed together the most distant and mismatched institutions, the phalanx of Sparta and that of Macedon, the legions of Cato and Trajan, of Augustus and Theodosius. Even the relevance, or at least the importance, of these military basics can be justly questioned: their general theory is based on reason; however, the real merit, as well as the challenge, lies in the application. A soldier’s discipline is developed through practice rather than study: the skills of a commander belong to those calm, yet quick-thinking minds, which nature produces to determine the fate of armies and nations: the former is the routine of a lifetime, the latter a moment’s insight; and battles won through tactical lessons may be counted alongside epic poems born from the principles of criticism. The book of ceremonies is a tedious yet incomplete account of the trivial pageantry that has tainted the church and state since the gradual decline of the purity of one and the power of the other. A review of the themes or provinces might promise authentic and useful information that only the government’s curiosity can obtain, instead of traditional fables about the origins of cities and bitter epigrams about the vices of their people. Such information the historian would have gladly recorded; nor should his silence be criticized if the most intriguing subjects—the population of the capital and provinces, the amount of taxes and revenues, the numbers of subjects and foreigners serving under the Imperial banner—have gone unmentioned by Leo the philosopher and his son Constantine. His treatise on public administration is marked by the same flaws; yet it is distinguished by a unique merit: the histories of nations may be uncertain or legendary; but the geography and customs of the Barbaric world are depicted with remarkable accuracy. Of these nations, the Franks alone were able to observe and describe the capital of the East. The ambassador of the great Otho, a bishop from Cremona, has painted the state of Constantinople around the middle of the tenth century: his style is vibrant, his narrative lively, and his observations sharp; even Liutprand’s biases and passions are imbued with a distinctive spirit of freedom and creativity. From this limited collection of foreign and domestic materials, I will explore the form and essence of the Byzantine Empire; the provinces and wealth, the civil government and military strength, the character and literature of the Greeks over a period of six hundred years, from the reign of Heraclius to his successful invasion of the Franks or Latins.

After the final division between the sons of Theodosius, the swarms of Barbarians from Scythia and Germany over-spread the provinces and extinguished the empire of ancient Rome. The weakness of Constantinople was concealed by extent of dominion: her limits were inviolate, or at least entire; and the kingdom of Justinian was enlarged by the splendid acquisition of Africa and Italy. But the possession of these new conquests was transient and precarious; and almost a moiety of the Eastern empire was torn away by the arms of the Saracens. Syria and Egypt were oppressed by the Arabian caliphs; and, after the reduction of Africa, their lieutenants invaded and subdued the Roman province which had been changed into the Gothic monarchy of Spain. The islands of the Mediterranean were not inaccessible to their naval powers; and it was from their extreme stations, the harbors of Crete and the fortresses of Cilicia, that the faithful or rebel emirs insulted the majesty of the throne and capital. The remaining provinces, under the obedience of the emperors, were cast into a new mould; and the jurisdiction of the presidents, the consulars, and the counts were superseded by the institution of the themes, or military governments, which prevailed under the successors of Heraclius, and are described by the pen of the royal author. Of the twenty-nine themes, twelve in Europe and seventeen in Asia, the origin is obscure, the etymology doubtful or capricious: the limits were arbitrary and fluctuating; but some particular names, that sound the most strangely to our ear, were derived from the character and attributes of the troops that were maintained at the expense, and for the guard, of the respective divisions. The vanity of the Greek princes most eagerly grasped the shadow of conquest and the memory of lost dominion. A new Mesopotamia was created on the western side of the Euphrates: the appellation and prætor of Sicily were transferred to a narrow slip of Calabria; and a fragment of the duchy of Beneventum was promoted to the style and title of the theme of Lombardy. In the decline of the Arabian empire, the successors of Constantine might indulge their pride in more solid advantages. The victories of Nicephorus, John Zimisces, and Basil the Second, revived the fame, and enlarged the boundaries, of the Roman name: the province of Cilicia, the metropolis of Antioch, the islands of Crete and Cyprus, were restored to the allegiance of Christ and Cæsar: one third of Italy was annexed to the throne of Constantinople: the kingdom of Bulgaria was destroyed; and the last sovereigns of the Macedonian dynasty extended their sway from the sources of the Tigris to the neighborhood of Rome. In the eleventh century, the prospect was again clouded by new enemies and new misfortunes: the relics of Italy were swept away by the Norman adventures; and almost all the Asiatic branches were dissevered from the Roman trunk by the Turkish conquerors. After these losses, the emperors of the Comnenian family continued to reign from the Danube to Peloponnesus, and from Belgrade to Nice, Trebizond, and the winding stream of the Meander. The spacious provinces of Thrace, Macedonia, and Greece, were obedient to their sceptre; the possession of Cyprus, Rhodes, and Crete, was accompanied by the fifty islands of the Ægean or Holy Sea; and the remnant of their empire transcends the measure of the largest of the European kingdoms.

After the final split between the sons of Theodosius, barbarian hordes from Scythia and Germany flooded the provinces and brought down the ancient Roman Empire. The weakness of Constantinople was hidden by the vastness of its territory: its borders were intact, or at least whole; and Justinian's kingdom expanded with the impressive gains of Africa and Italy. However, holding onto these new conquests was short-lived and unstable; nearly half of the Eastern Empire was taken by the Saracens. Syria and Egypt fell under the control of the Arabian caliphs; and after taking Africa, their governors invaded and conquered the Roman province that had become the Gothic monarchy of Spain. The islands of the Mediterranean were not safe from their naval powers; from their farthest outposts, the ports of Crete and the fortresses of Cilicia, loyal or rebellious emirs mocked the authority of the throne and capital. The remaining provinces, still under the emperors' rule, were reshaped; the roles of governors, consuls, and counts were replaced by the establishment of the themes, or military governments, which became prominent under the successors of Heraclius, and are chronicled by the royal author. Of the twenty-nine themes, twelve in Europe and seventeen in Asia, their origins are unclear, their names uncertain or whimsical: the borders were arbitrary and changeable; but some of the more unusual names were derived from the characteristics and roles of the troops maintained at the expense, and for the protection, of their respective divisions. The vanity of the Greek princes eagerly clutched at the illusion of conquest and the memory of lost power. A new Mesopotamia was created on the western side of the Euphrates; the title and governor of Sicily were transferred to a small area of Calabria; and a part of the duchy of Beneventum was elevated to the status and name of the theme of Lombardy. In the decline of the Arabian Empire, the successors of Constantine could take pride in more tangible successes. The victories of Nicephorus, John Zimisces, and Basil the Second restored the glory and expanded the borders of the Roman Empire: the province of Cilicia, the capital of Antioch, the islands of Crete and Cyprus were returned to the allegiance of Christ and Caesar; a third of Italy was added to the throne of Constantinople; the kingdom of Bulgaria was annihilated; and the last rulers of the Macedonian dynasty extended their influence from the sources of the Tigris to the vicinity of Rome. By the eleventh century, the outlook was darkened once more by new adversaries and fresh misfortunes: the remnants of Italy were taken by Norman raiders; and nearly all the Asian territories were separated from the Roman core by the Turkish conquerors. After these losses, the emperors from the Comnenian family continued to reign from the Danube to the Peloponnesus, and from Belgrade to Nice, Trebizond, and the winding Meander River. The vast provinces of Thrace, Macedonia, and Greece were subject to their rule; their hold on Cyprus, Rhodes, and Crete was supported by the fifty islands of the Aegean or Holy Sea; and the remnants of their empire exceeded the size of the largest of the European kingdoms.

The same princes might assert, with dignity and truth, that of all the monarchs of Christendom they possessed the greatest city, the most ample revenue, the most flourishing and populous state. With the decline and fall of the empire, the cities of the West had decayed and fallen; nor could the ruins of Rome, or the mud walls, wooden hovels, and narrow precincts of Paris and London, prepare the Latin stranger to contemplate the situation and extent of Constantinople, her stately palaces and churches, and the arts and luxury of an innumerable people. Her treasures might attract, but her virgin strength had repelled, and still promised to repel, the audacious invasion of the Persian and Bulgarian, the Arab and the Russian. The provinces were less fortunate and impregnable; and few districts, few cities, could be discovered which had not been violated by some fierce Barbarian, impatient to despoil, because he was hopeless to possess. From the age of Justinian the Eastern empire was sinking below its former level; the powers of destruction were more active than those of improvement; and the calamities of war were imbittered by the more permanent evils of civil and ecclesiastical tyranny. The captive who had escaped from the Barbarians was often stripped and imprisoned by the ministers of his sovereign: the Greek superstition relaxed the mind by prayer, and emaciated the body by fasting; and the multitude of convents and festivals diverted many hands and many days from the temporal service of mankind. Yet the subjects of the Byzantine empire were still the most dexterous and diligent of nations; their country was blessed by nature with every advantage of soil, climate, and situation; and, in the support and restoration of the arts, their patient and peaceful temper was more useful than the warlike spirit and feudal anarchy of Europe. The provinces that still adhered to the empire were repeopled and enriched by the misfortunes of those which were irrecoverably lost. From the yoke of the caliphs, the Catholics of Syria, Egypt, and Africa retired to the allegiance of their prince, to the society of their brethren: the movable wealth, which eludes the search of oppression, accompanied and alleviated their exile, and Constantinople received into her bosom the fugitive trade of Alexandria and Tyre. The chiefs of Armenia and Scythia, who fled from hostile or religious persecution, were hospitably entertained: their followers were encouraged to build new cities and to cultivate waste lands; and many spots, both in Europe and Asia, preserved the name, the manners, or at least the memory, of these national colonies. Even the tribes of Barbarians, who had seated themselves in arms on the territory of the empire, were gradually reclaimed to the laws of the church and state; and as long as they were separated from the Greeks, their posterity supplied a race of faithful and obedient soldiers. Did we possess sufficient materials to survey the twenty-nine themes of the Byzantine monarchy, our curiosity might be satisfied with a chosen example: it is fortunate enough that the clearest light should be thrown on the most interesting province, and the name of Peloponnesus will awaken the attention of the classic reader.

The same princes could confidently say that of all the monarchs in Christendom, they controlled the greatest city, generated the most income, and presided over the most thriving and populous state. As the empire declined and fell, the cities of the West also deteriorated; neither the ruins of Rome nor the muddy walls, wooden shacks, and cramped quarters of Paris and London could prepare a Latin outsider for the grandeur and scale of Constantinople, with its impressive palaces and churches, and the culture and luxury of countless people. While its treasures might lure people in, its untested strength had kept at bay, and continued to promise to keep at bay, the bold invasions from the Persians, Bulgarians, Arabs, and Russians. The provinces were less fortunate and not as defensible; and few regions or cities were found that had not been ravaged by some fierce Barbarian, eager to plunder because he had no hope of owning anything. Since the time of Justinian, the Eastern Empire had been sinking below its former status; the forces of destruction were more active than those of progress; and the disasters of war were made worse by the more lasting evils of civil and religious tyranny. Captives who escaped from the Barbarians often found themselves stripped and imprisoned by the agents of their own rulers: Greek superstition calmed the mind through prayer but starved the body through fasting; and the numerous monasteries and festivals distracted many people and many days from serving the needs of mankind. Still, the subjects of the Byzantine Empire remained the most skilled and hard-working of nations; their land was naturally endowed with all the advantages of soil, climate, and location; and in supporting and restoring the arts, their patient and peaceful nature proved more beneficial than the militaristic spirit and feudal chaos of Europe. The provinces that remained loyal to the Empire were repopulated and enriched by the troubles of those that were irretrievably lost. Fleeing from the rule of the caliphs, the Catholics of Syria, Egypt, and Africa returned to their prince, rejoining their fellow believers: the movable wealth that managed to escape oppression accompanied and eased their exile, and Constantinople welcomed the relocated trade from Alexandria and Tyre. The leaders of Armenia and Scythia, escaping from hostile or religious persecution, were hospitably received; their followers were encouraged to build new cities and cultivate abandoned lands; and many areas in both Europe and Asia retained the name, customs, or at least the memory, of these national settlements. Even the Barbarian tribes that had armed themselves on the Empire’s territory gradually accepted the laws of the church and state; and as long as they remained separated from the Greeks, their descendants became a reliable and loyal fighting force. If we had enough information to explore the twenty-nine districts of the Byzantine monarchy, our curiosity would be satisfied with a select example: it's fortunate that the clearest insights are available for the most captivating region, and the name Peloponnesus will catch the attention of any classic reader.

As early as the eighth century, in the troubled reign of the Iconoclasts, Greece, and even Peloponnesus, were overrun by some Sclavonian bands who outstripped the royal standard of Bulgaria. The strangers of old, Cadmus, and Danaus, and Pelops, had planted in that fruitful soil the seeds of policy and learning; but the savages of the north eradicated what yet remained of their sickly and withered roots. In this irruption, the country and the inhabitants were transformed; the Grecian blood was contaminated; and the proudest nobles of Peloponnesus were branded with the names of foreigners and slaves. By the diligence of succeeding princes, the land was in some measure purified from the Barbarians; and the humble remnant was bound by an oath of obedience, tribute, and military service, which they often renewed and often violated. The siege of Patras was formed by a singular concurrence of the Sclavonians of Peloponnesus and the Saracens of Africa. In their last distress, a pious fiction of the approach of the prætor of Corinth revived the courage of the citizens. Their sally was bold and successful; the strangers embarked, the rebels submitted, and the glory of the day was ascribed to a phantom or a stranger, who fought in the foremost ranks under the character of St. Andrew the Apostle. The shrine which contained his relics was decorated with the trophies of victory, and the captive race was forever devoted to the service and vassalage of the metropolitan church of Patras. By the revolt of two Sclavonian tribes, in the neighborhood of Helos and Lacedæmon, the peace of the peninsula was often disturbed. They sometimes insulted the weakness, and sometimes resisted the oppression, of the Byzantine government, till at length the approach of their hostile brethren extorted a golden bull to define the rites and obligations of the Ezzerites and Milengi, whose annual tribute was defined at twelve hundred pieces of gold. From these strangers the Imperial geographer has accurately distinguished a domestic, and perhaps original, race, who, in some degree, might derive their blood from the much-injured Helots. The liberality of the Romans, and especially of Augustus, had enfranchised the maritime cities from the dominion of Sparta; and the continuance of the same benefit ennobled them with the title of Eleuthero, or Free-Laconians. In the time of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, they had acquired the name of Mainotes, under which they dishonor the claim of liberty by the inhuman pillage of all that is shipwrecked on their rocky shores. Their territory, barren of corn, but fruitful of olives, extended to the Cape of Malea: they accepted a chief or prince from the Byzantine prætor, and a light tribute of four hundred pieces of gold was the badge of their immunity, rather than of their dependence. The freemen of Laconia assumed the character of Romans, and long adhered to the religion of the Greeks. By the zeal of the emperor Basil, they were baptized in the faith of Christ: but the altars of Venus and Neptune had been crowned by these rustic votaries five hundred years after they were proscribed in the Roman world. In the theme of Peloponnesus, forty cities were still numbered, and the declining state of Sparta, Argos, and Corinth, may be suspended in the tenth century, at an equal distance, perhaps, between their antique splendor and their present desolation. The duty of military service, either in person or by substitute, was imposed on the lands or benefices of the province; a sum of five pieces of gold was assessed on each of the substantial tenants; and the same capitation was shared among several heads of inferior value. On the proclamation of an Italian war, the Peloponnesians excused themselves by a voluntary oblation of one hundred pounds of gold, (four thousand pounds sterling,) and a thousand horses with their arms and trappings. The churches and monasteries furnished their contingent; a sacrilegious profit was extorted from the sale of ecclesiastical honors; and the indigent bishop of Leucadia was made responsible for a pension of one hundred pieces of gold.

As early as the eighth century, during the troubled reign of the Iconoclasts, Greece, and even the Peloponnesus, were invaded by some Sclavonian groups who surpassed the royal standard of Bulgaria. The ancient outsiders, like Cadmus, Danaus, and Pelops, had planted the seeds of governance and knowledge in that fertile land; however, the northern savages wiped out what little remained of their frail and decayed roots. This invasion transformed the country and its people; the Greek heritage was tainted, and the proudest nobles of Peloponnesus were marked with the labels of foreigners and slaves. Due to the efforts of successive rulers, the land was somewhat cleansed of the Barbarians; the humble remnants were bound by an oath of loyalty, tribute, and military service, which they often renewed and frequently broke. The siege of Patras was established by an unusual alliance of Sclavonians from Peloponnesus and Saracens from Africa. In their dire moment, a devout myth about the approaching prætor of Corinth boosted the citizens' spirits. Their attack was bold and successful; the invaders fled, the rebels surrendered, and the glory of the day was credited to an apparition or a stranger, who fought in the front lines as St. Andrew the Apostle. The shrine that held his relics was adorned with trophies of victory, and the captured people were forever pledged to the service and subjugation of the metropolitan church of Patras. The rebellion of two Sclavonian tribes, near Helos and Lacedæmon, frequently disrupted the peace of the peninsula. They sometimes mocked the weakness and sometimes resisted the oppression of the Byzantine government, until eventually the approach of their hostile kin forced the issuance of a golden bull to outline the rights and obligations of the Ezzerites and Milengi, whose annual tribute was set at twelve hundred pieces of gold. From these outsiders, the Imperial geographer has accurately identified a local, and perhaps original, group who might, to some extent, trace their lineage back to the greatly wronged Helots. The generosity of the Romans, especially Augustus, had freed the coastal cities from Spartan control; and the continued benefits ennobled them with the title of Eleuthero, or Free-Laconians. By the time of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, they were known as Mainotes, under which they dishonor the claim of freedom through the brutal looting of everything that shipwrecked on their rugged shores. Their land, lacking in grain but rich in olives, extended to Cape Malea: they accepted a leader or prince from the Byzantine prætor, and a light tribute of four hundred pieces of gold marked their immunity rather than their subservience. The free people of Laconia took on the character of Romans and remained faithful to the religion of the Greeks for a long time. Through the efforts of Emperor Basil, they were baptized into the Christian faith: yet, five hundred years later, these rustic worshippers still crowned the altars of Venus and Neptune, long after they had been banned in the Roman world. In the region of Peloponnesus, forty cities were still counted, and the declining states of Sparta, Argos, and Corinth could be seen in the tenth century, perhaps suspended equally between their ancient glory and their current ruin. The obligation of military service, either personally or via a substitute, was imposed on the land or benefits of the province; a fee of five pieces of gold was assessed on each of the notable landowners; and the same tax was shared among several less wealthy heads. When an Italian war was announced, the Peloponnesians excused themselves with a voluntary offering of one hundred pounds of gold (four thousand pounds sterling) and a thousand horses with their armor and gear. The churches and monasteries contributed their share; a sacrilegious profit was gained from the sale of church positions; and the impoverished bishop of Leucadia was held accountable for a pension of one hundred pieces of gold.

But the wealth of the province, and the trust of the revenue, were founded on the fair and plentiful produce of trade and manufacturers; and some symptoms of liberal policy may be traced in a law which exempts from all personal taxes the mariners of Peloponnesus, and the workmen in parchment and purple. This denomination may be fairly applied or extended to the manufacturers of linen, woollen, and more especially of silk: the two former of which had flourished in Greece since the days of Homer; and the last was introduced perhaps as early as the reign of Justinian. These arts, which were exercised at Corinth, Thebes, and Argos, afforded food and occupation to a numerous people: the men, women, and children were distributed according to their age and strength; and, if many of these were domestic slaves, their masters, who directed the work and enjoyed the profit, were of a free and honorable condition. The gifts which a rich and generous matron of Peloponnesus presented to the emperor Basil, her adopted son, were doubtless fabricated in the Grecian looms. Danielis bestowed a carpet of fine wool, of a pattern which imitated the spots of a peacock's tail, of a magnitude to overspread the floor of a new church, erected in the triple name of Christ, of Michael the archangel, and of the prophet Elijah. She gave six hundred pieces of silk and linen, of various use and denomination: the silk was painted with the Tyrian dye, and adorned by the labors of the needle; and the linen was so exquisitely fine, that an entire piece might be rolled in the hollow of a cane. In his description of the Greek manufactures, an historian of Sicily discriminates their price, according to the weight and quality of the silk, the closeness of the texture, the beauty of the colors, and the taste and materials of the embroidery. A single, or even a double or treble thread was thought sufficient for ordinary sale; but the union of six threads composed a piece of stronger and more costly workmanship. Among the colors, he celebrates, with affectation of eloquence, the fiery blaze of the scarlet, and the softer lustre of the green. The embroidery was raised either in silk or gold: the more simple ornament of stripes or circles was surpassed by the nicer imitation of flowers: the vestments that were fabricated for the palace or the altar often glittered with precious stones; and the figures were delineated in strings of Oriental pearls. Till the twelfth century, Greece alone, of all the countries of Christendom, was possessed of the insect who is taught by nature, and of the workmen who are instructed by art, to prepare this elegant luxury. But the secret had been stolen by the dexterity and diligence of the Arabs: the caliphs of the East and West scorned to borrow from the unbelievers their furniture and apparel; and two cities of Spain, Almeria and Lisbon, were famous for the manufacture, the use, and, perhaps, the exportation, of silk. It was first introduced into Sicily by the Normans; and this emigration of trade distinguishes the victory of Roger from the uniform and fruitless hostilities of every age. After the sack of Corinth, Athens, and Thebes, his lieutenant embarked with a captive train of weavers and artificers of both sexes, a trophy glorious to their master, and disgraceful to the Greek emperor. The king of Sicily was not insensible of the value of the present; and, in the restitution of the prisoners, he excepted only the male and female manufacturers of Thebes and Corinth, who labor, says the Byzantine historian, under a barbarous lord, like the old Eretrians in the service of Darius. A stately edifice, in the palace of Palermo, was erected for the use of this industrious colony; and the art was propagated by their children and disciples to satisfy the increasing demand of the western world. The decay of the looms of Sicily may be ascribed to the troubles of the island, and the competition of the Italian cities. In the year thirteen hundred and fourteen, Lucca alone, among her sister republics, enjoyed the lucrative monopoly. A domestic revolution dispersed the manufacturers to Florence, Bologna, Venice, Milan, and even the countries beyond the Alps; and thirteen years after this event the statutes of Modena enjoin the planting of mulberry-trees, and regulate the duties on raw silk. The northern climates are less propitious to the education of the silkworm; but the industry of France and England is supplied and enriched by the productions of Italy and China.

But the wealth of the province and the reliability of its revenue were based on the fair and abundant output of trade and manufacturing. Some signs of progressive policy can be seen in a law that exempts mariners from Peloponnesus and workers in parchment and purple from all personal taxes. This classification can reasonably extend to manufacturers of linen, wool, and especially silk. The first two had thrived in Greece since Homer's time, while silk was likely introduced during Justinian's reign. These crafts, practiced in Corinth, Thebes, and Argos, provided food and jobs for many people: men, women, and children were assigned tasks based on their age and strength; and although many were domestic slaves, their masters, who oversaw the work and profited from it, were of a free and respected status. The gifts that a wealthy and generous matron from Peloponnesus gave to Emperor Basil, her adopted son, were undoubtedly made in Greek workshops. Danielis presented a fine wool carpet patterned to resemble peacock feathers, large enough to cover the floor of a newly built church dedicated to Christ, Archangel Michael, and the prophet Elijah. She also offered six hundred pieces of silk and linen for various uses: the silk was dyed with Tyrian purple and beautifully embroidered; the linen was so incredibly fine that a whole piece could fit inside a cane. An historian from Sicily describes Greek manufacturing, noting the prices based on the weight and quality of the silk, the tightness of the weave, the vibrancy of the colors, and the artistry and materials used in the embroidery. A single thread, or even double or triple threads, were considered enough for standard sales; however, combining six threads created a stronger and more expensive fabric. Among the colors he praises, with a flair for dramatic language, is the vibrant scarlet and the gentle richness of green. The embroidery could be done in silk or gold; simple patterns of stripes or circles were outdone by intricate floral designs. The garments made for the palace or altar often sparkled with precious stones, and figures were outlined with strings of Oriental pearls. Until the twelfth century, Greece was the only country in Christendom to possess the insect that naturally produces silk and the skilled workers needed to create this luxurious fabric. However, the knowledge was taken by the skill and efforts of the Arabs: the caliphs of the East and West refused to borrow from the unbelievers for their clothing and furnishings, and two cities in Spain, Almeria and Lisbon, became well-known for silk manufacturing, use, and possibly export. The Normans first brought silk to Sicily, marking a significant shift in trade thanks to Roger's victory, unlike the consistent, fruitless conflicts of previous ages. After the destruction of Corinth, Athens, and Thebes, his lieutenant left with a group of captive weavers and artisans, both male and female—a trophy for their master but a disgrace for the Greek emperor. The king of Sicily recognized the value of this gift; when he returned the prisoners, he kept only the male and female manufacturers from Thebes and Corinth, who, according to a Byzantine historian, labored under a cruel master, similar to the old Eretrians serving Darius. A grand building was constructed in the palace of Palermo for this industrious group; and the skill was passed down to their children and trainees to meet the increasing demand in the western world. The decline of the Sicilian looms can be attributed to the island's turmoil and competition from Italian cities. By 1314, Lucca stood alone among its sister republics as a profitable monopoly. A domestic upheaval caused manufacturers to scatter to Florence, Bologna, Venice, Milan, and even to regions beyond the Alps; thirteen years later, the statutes of Modena mandated the planting of mulberry trees and regulated duties on raw silk. Northern climates are not as conducive to silkworm cultivation, but France and England's industries continue to thrive and benefit from the silk produced in Italy and China.





Chapter LIII: Fate Of The Eastern Empire.—Part II.

I must repeat the complaint that the vague and scanty memorials of the times will not afford any just estimate of the taxes, the revenue, and the resources of the Greek empire. From every province of Europe and Asia the rivulets of gold and silver discharged into the Imperial reservoir a copious and perennial stream. The separation of the branches from the trunk increased the relative magnitude of Constantinople; and the maxims of despotism contracted the state to the capital, the capital to the palace, and the palace to the royal person. A Jewish traveller, who visited the East in the twelfth century, is lost in his admiration of the Byzantine riches. "It is here," says Benjamin of Tudela, "in the queen of cities, that the tributes of the Greek empire are annually deposited and the lofty towers are filled with precious magazines of silk, purple, and gold. It is said, that Constantinople pays each day to her sovereign twenty thousand pieces of gold; which are levied on the shops, taverns, and markets, on the merchants of Persia and Egypt, of Russia and Hungary, of Italy and Spain, who frequent the capital by sea and land." In all pecuniary matters, the authority of a Jew is doubtless respectable; but as the three hundred and sixty-five days would produce a yearly income exceeding seven millions sterling, I am tempted to retrench at least the numerous festivals of the Greek calendar. The mass of treasure that was saved by Theodora and Basil the Second will suggest a splendid, though indefinite, idea of their supplies and resources. The mother of Michael, before she retired to a cloister, attempted to check or expose the prodigality of her ungrateful son, by a free and faithful account of the wealth which he inherited; one hundred and nine thousand pounds of gold, and three hundred thousand of silver, the fruits of her own economy and that of her deceased husband. The avarice of Basil is not less renowned than his valor and fortune: his victorious armies were paid and rewarded without breaking into the mass of two hundred thousand pounds of gold, (about eight millions sterling,) which he had buried in the subterraneous vaults of the palace. Such accumulation of treasure is rejected by the theory and practice of modern policy; and we are more apt to compute the national riches by the use and abuse of the public credit. Yet the maxims of antiquity are still embraced by a monarch formidable to his enemies; by a republic respectable to her allies; and both have attained their respective ends of military power and domestic tranquillity.

I have to repeat the complaint that the unclear and limited records from that time don't give a fair estimate of the taxes, revenue, and resources of the Greek empire. From every province in Europe and Asia, streams of gold and silver flowed into the Imperial treasury, creating a steady and abundant supply. The division of the regions from the center increased Constantinople's significance, and the principles of despotism narrowed the state to the capital, the capital to the palace, and the palace to the emperor. A Jewish traveler who visited the East in the twelfth century can't hide his admiration for Byzantine wealth. "It is here," says Benjamin of Tudela, "in the queen of cities, where the tributes of the Greek empire are deposited each year, and the tall towers are filled with precious stores of silk, purple, and gold. It's said that Constantinople pays her ruler twenty thousand pieces of gold every day, raised from the shops, taverns, and markets, as well as from merchants from Persia and Egypt, Russia and Hungary, Italy and Spain, who come to the capital by land and sea." In financial matters, the authority of a Jewish source is certainly respected; however, since three hundred sixty-five days would generate an annual income exceeding seven million pounds sterling, I'm inclined to downplay at least some of the many festivals in the Greek calendar. The vast treasure saved by Theodora and Basil II gives a lavish, though still unclear, sense of their resources. Michael's mother, before she entered a convent, tried to rein in or expose her ungrateful son’s extravagance by providing a detailed and honest account of the wealth he inherited: one hundred nine thousand pounds of gold and three hundred thousand pounds of silver, the fruits of her own careful management and that of her late husband. Basil's greed is as legendary as his bravery and success: his victorious armies were paid and rewarded without dipping into the treasure of two hundred thousand pounds of gold (about eight million pounds sterling) he had buried in hidden vaults of the palace. This kind of treasure hoarding is rejected by modern economic theory and practice; today, we tend to measure a nation's wealth by its public credit's use and misuse. Yet the principles of the past are still upheld by a powerful monarch who poses a threat to his enemies, by a republic that commands respect from its allies, and both have achieved their goals of military strength and domestic peace.

Whatever might be consumed for the present wants, or reserved for the future use, of the state, the first and most sacred demand was for the pomp and pleasure of the emperor, and his discretion only could define the measure of his private expense. The princes of Constantinople were far removed from the simplicity of nature; yet, with the revolving seasons, they were led by taste or fashion to withdraw to a purer air, from the smoke and tumult of the capital. They enjoyed, or affected to enjoy, the rustic festival of the vintage: their leisure was amused by the exercise of the chase and the calmer occupation of fishing, and in the summer heats, they were shaded from the sun, and refreshed by the cooling breezes from the sea. The coasts and islands of Asia and Europe were covered with their magnificent villas; but, instead of the modest art which secretly strives to hide itself and to decorate the scenery of nature, the marble structure of their gardens served only to expose the riches of the lord, and the labors of the architect. The successive casualties of inheritance and forfeiture had rendered the sovereign proprietor of many stately houses in the city and suburbs, of which twelve were appropriated to the ministers of state; but the great palace, the centre of the Imperial residence, was fixed during eleven centuries to the same position, between the hippodrome, the cathedral of St. Sophia, and the gardens, which descended by many a terrace to the shores of the Propontis. The primitive edifice of the first Constantine was a copy, or rival, of ancient Rome; the gradual improvements of his successors aspired to emulate the wonders of the old world, and in the tenth century, the Byzantine palace excited the admiration, at least of the Latins, by an unquestionable preëminence of strength, size, and magnificence. But the toil and treasure of so many ages had produced a vast and irregular pile: each separate building was marked with the character of the times and of the founder; and the want of space might excuse the reigning monarch, who demolished, perhaps with secret satisfaction, the works of his predecessors. The economy of the emperor Theophilus allowed a more free and ample scope for his domestic luxury and splendor. A favorite ambassador, who had astonished the Abbassides themselves by his pride and liberality, presented on his return the model of a palace, which the caliph of Bagdad had recently constructed on the banks of the Tigris. The model was instantly copied and surpassed: the new buildings of Theophilus were accompanied with gardens, and with five churches, one of which was conspicuous for size and beauty: it was crowned with three domes, the roof of gilt brass reposed on columns of Italian marble, and the walls were incrusted with marbles of various colors. In the face of the church, a semicircular portico, of the figure and name of the Greek sigma, was supported by fifteen columns of Phrygian marble, and the subterraneous vaults were of a similar construction. The square before the sigma was decorated with a fountain, and the margin of the basin was lined and encompassed with plates of silver. In the beginning of each season, the basin, instead of water, was replenished with the most exquisite fruits, which were abandoned to the populace for the entertainment of the prince. He enjoyed this tumultuous spectacle from a throne resplendent with gold and gems, which was raised by a marble staircase to the height of a lofty terrace. Below the throne were seated the officers of his guards, the magistrates, the chiefs of the factions of the circus; the inferior steps were occupied by the people, and the place below was covered with troops of dancers, singers, and pantomimes. The square was surrounded by the hall of justice, the arsenal, and the various offices of business and pleasure; and the purple chamber was named from the annual distribution of robes of scarlet and purple by the hand of the empress herself. The long series of the apartments was adapted to the seasons, and decorated with marble and porphyry, with painting, sculpture, and mosaics, with a profusion of gold, silver, and precious stones. His fanciful magnificence employed the skill and patience of such artists as the times could afford: but the taste of Athens would have despised their frivolous and costly labors; a golden tree, with its leaves and branches, which sheltered a multitude of birds warbling their artificial notes, and two lions of massy gold, and of natural size, who looked and roared like their brethren of the forest. The successors of Theophilus, of the Basilian and Comnenian dynasties, were not less ambitious of leaving some memorial of their residence; and the portion of the palace most splendid and august was dignified with the title of the golden triclinium. With becoming modesty, the rich and noble Greeks aspired to imitate their sovereign, and when they passed through the streets on horseback, in their robes of silk and embroidery, they were mistaken by the children for kings. A matron of Peloponnesus, who had cherished the infant fortunes of Basil the Macedonian, was excited by tenderness or vanity to visit the greatness of her adopted son. In a journey of five hundred miles from Patras to Constantinople, her age or indolence declined the fatigue of a horse or carriage: the soft litter or bed of Danielis was transported on the shoulders of ten robust slaves; and as they were relieved at easy distances, a band of three hundred were selected for the performance of this service. She was entertained in the Byzantine palace with filial reverence, and the honors of a queen; and whatever might be the origin of her wealth, her gifts were not unworthy of the regal dignity. I have already described the fine and curious manufactures of Peloponnesus, of linen, silk, and woollen; but the most acceptable of her presents consisted in three hundred beautiful youths, of whom one hundred were eunuchs; "for she was not ignorant," says the historian, "that the air of the palace is more congenial to such insects, than a shepherd's dairy to the flies of the summer." During her lifetime, she bestowed the greater part of her estates in Peloponnesus, and her testament instituted Leo, the son of Basil, her universal heir. After the payment of the legacies, fourscore villas or farms were added to the Imperial domain; and three thousand slaves of Danielis were enfranchised by their new lord, and transplanted as a colony to the Italian coast. From this example of a private matron, we may estimate the wealth and magnificence of the emperors. Yet our enjoyments are confined by a narrow circle; and, whatsoever may be its value, the luxury of life is possessed with more innocence and safety by the master of his own, than by the steward of the public, fortune.

Whatever might be consumed for the current needs or saved for future use by the state, the first and most important demand was for the grandeur and pleasure of the emperor, and only he could decide the extent of his private spending. The princes of Constantinople were far removed from the simplicity of nature; yet, with the changing seasons, they were influenced by taste or fashion to retreat to cleaner air, away from the smoke and chaos of the capital. They enjoyed, or pretended to enjoy, the rural festival of the harvest; their free time was spent hunting and fishing, and in the summer heat, they found shade from the sun and relief from the cooling sea breezes. The coasts and islands of Asia and Europe were dotted with their magnificent villas; but instead of the modest art that tries to blend in with and enhance nature, the marble structures of their gardens served only to showcase the wealth of the owner and the work of the architect. The passing of inheritance and loss had made the emperor the owner of many grand houses in the city and its outskirts, twelve of which were designated for state ministers; but the great palace, the heart of the Imperial residence, remained in the same location for eleven centuries, situated between the hippodrome, the cathedral of St. Sophia, and the gardens that descended over many terraces to the shores of the Propontis. The original building of the first Constantine imitated or competed with ancient Rome; the gradual improvements of his successors aimed to match the wonders of the old world, and by the tenth century, the Byzantine palace drew admiration, especially from the Latins, for its unmatched strength, size, and grandeur. However, the effort and wealth accumulated over many ages resulted in a vast and haphazard structure: each individual building bore the marks of its era and its founder; and the lack of space could excuse the reigning monarch, who might have taken secret pleasure in tearing down the works of his predecessors. The spending of Emperor Theophilus allowed for a more free and extensive display of his domestic luxury and opulence. A favored ambassador, who had amazed even the Abbassids with his arrogance and generosity, returned with the design of a palace recently built by the caliph of Baghdad along the Tigris River. The model was quickly copied and improved upon: Theophilus’s new buildings included gardens and five churches, one of which stood out for its size and beauty: it was topped with three domes, its gilt-brass roof resting on columns of Italian marble, and its walls adorned with marbles of various colors. The front of the church featured a semicircular portico, shaped like the Greek letter sigma, supported by fifteen columns of Phrygian marble, with similar construction in the underground vaults. The square in front of the sigma was decorated with a fountain, and the edge of the basin was lined with silver plates. At the beginning of each season, the basin, instead of holding water, was filled with exquisite fruits, given to the people for the entertainment of the prince. He watched this lively spectacle from a throne adorned with gold and jewels, raised on a marble staircase to a high terrace. Below the throne sat the officers of his guards, the magistrates, and the leaders of the circus factions; the lower steps were filled with the people, and the space below teemed with dancers, singers, and performers. The square was surrounded by the hall of justice, the arsenal, and various offices for both business and leisure; the purple chamber was named for the annual distribution of scarlet and purple robes by the empress herself. The long series of rooms was designed for the seasons and decorated with marble and porphyry, paintings, sculptures, and mosaics, with an abundance of gold, silver, and precious stones. His extravagant magnificence employed the talents and patience of the artists of the time: yet the refined taste of Athens would have looked down upon their extravagant and trivial creations; a golden tree, complete with its leaves and branches, sheltered numerous birds singing their artificial tunes, along with two life-sized, heavy gold lions roaring and acting like their wild brethren. The successors of Theophilus from the Basilian and Comnenian dynasties were similarly eager to leave their mark. The most splendid part of the palace was grandly titled the golden triclinium. With appropriate humility, the wealthy and noble Greeks aspired to emulate their emperor; when they rode through the streets in silk and embroidered robes, children mistook them for kings. A matron from Peloponnesus, who had nurtured the young fortunes of Basil the Macedonian, was driven by affection or pride to visit her adopted son’s greatness. On a journey of five hundred miles from Patras to Constantinople, her age or laziness kept her from the fatigue of riding a horse or in a carriage: she was carried on a comfortable litter or bed by ten strong slaves; and as they were relieved at intervals, a team of three hundred was chosen for this task. She was greeted in the Byzantine palace with familial reverence and the honors due to a queen; and regardless of the source of her wealth, her gifts matched the regal dignity. I have already mentioned the fine and unique products of Peloponnesus, made from linen, silk, and wool; but the most impressive of her gifts included three hundred beautiful young men, one hundred of whom were eunuchs; "for she was not unaware," the historian notes, "that the atmosphere of the palace was more conducive to such creatures than a shepherd's dairy is to summer flies." During her lifetime, she gave away much of her estate in Peloponnesus, and her will named Leo, the son of Basil, as her sole heir. After settling the legacies, eighty villas or farms were added to the Imperial estate; and three thousand of Danielis’s slaves were freed by their new lord and relocated to the Italian coast as a colony. From this example of a private matron, we can infer the wealth and glory of the emperors. Yet our pleasures are restricted to a small circle; and, whatever its worth, the luxury of life is enjoyed with more innocence and safety by the master of his own fortune than by the steward of the public's wealth.

In an absolute government, which levels the distinctions of noble and plebeian birth, the sovereign is the sole fountain of honor; and the rank, both in the palace and the empire, depends on the titles and offices which are bestowed and resumed by his arbitrary will. Above a thousand years, from Vespasian to Alexius Comnenus, the Cæsar was the second person, or at least the second degree, after the supreme title of Augustus was more freely communicated to the sons and brothers of the reigning monarch. To elude without violating his promise to a powerful associate, the husband of his sister, and, without giving himself an equal, to reward the piety of his brother Isaac, the crafty Alexius interposed a new and supereminent dignity. The happy flexibility of the Greek tongue allowed him to compound the names of Augustus and Emperor (Sebastos and Autocrator,) and the union produces the sonorous title of Sebastocrator. He was exalted above the Cæsar on the first step of the throne: the public acclamations repeated his name; and he was only distinguished from the sovereign by some peculiar ornaments of the head and feet. The emperor alone could assume the purple or red buskins, and the close diadem or tiara, which imitated the fashion of the Persian kings. It was a high pyramidal cap of cloth or silk, almost concealed by a profusion of pearls and jewels: the crown was formed by a horizontal circle and two arches of gold: at the summit, the point of their intersection, was placed a globe or cross, and two strings or lappets of pearl depended on either cheek. Instead of red, the buskins of the Sebastocrator and Cæsar were green; and on their open coronets or crowns, the precious gems were more sparingly distributed. Beside and below the Cæsar the fancy of Alexius created the Panhypersebasto and the Protosebastos, whose sound and signification will satisfy a Grecian ear. They imply a superiority and a priority above the simple name of Augustus; and this sacred and primitive title of the Roman prince was degraded to the kinsmen and servants of the Byzantine court. The daughter of Alexius applauds, with fond complacency, this artful gradation of hopes and honors; but the science of words is accessible to the meanest capacity; and this vain dictionary was easily enriched by the pride of his successors. To their favorite sons or brothers, they imparted the more lofty appellation of Lord or Despot, which was illustrated with new ornaments, and prerogatives, and placed immediately after the person of the emperor himself. The five titles of, 1. Despot; 2. Sebastocrator; 3. Cæsar; 4. Panhypersebastos; and, 5. Protosebastos; were usually confined to the princes of his blood: they were the emanations of his majesty; but as they exercised no regular functions, their existence was useless, and their authority precarious.

In an absolute government that removes the distinctions between noble and common birth, the ruler is the only source of honor; ranks in the palace and the empire depend on the titles and positions granted and taken away at his discretion. For over a thousand years, from Vespasian to Alexius Comnenus, the Cæsar was the second highest title, or at least the second rank, after the supreme title of Augustus, which was given more freely to the sons and brothers of the reigning monarch. To navigate his promise to a powerful ally, his sister's husband, and to reward the loyalty of his brother Isaac without making him an equal, the clever Alexius created a new and superior title. The flexible nature of the Greek language allowed him to combine the names of Augustus and Emperor (Sebastos and Autocrator), resulting in the impressive title of Sebastocrator. He was elevated above the Cæsar on the first step of the throne: public acclaim echoed his name, and he was only set apart from the ruler by some unique head and foot decorations. The emperor alone could wear the purple or red boots and the close diadem or tiara that imitated the style of the Persian kings. This was a tall, pyramidal cap made of cloth or silk, almost hidden beneath a wealth of pearls and jewels: the crown had a horizontal band and two gold arches; at the top, where they met, sat a globe or cross, with two strings or lappets of pearl hanging down from each side. Instead of red, the boots of the Sebastocrator and Cæsar were green; and on their open crowns, the precious gems were used more sparingly. Next to the Cæsar, Alexius also invented the titles of Panhypersebasto and Protosebastos, which would sound pleasing to a Greek ear. These titles suggest a superiority and precedence over the simple name of Augustus; this revered and ancient title of the Roman prince was lowered to the level of the family and servants of the Byzantine court. Alexius's daughter praises this clever hierarchy of hopes and honors, but the manipulation of words is easy to grasp for even the simplest individuals; this empty vocabulary was quickly embellished by the arrogance of his successors. To their favored sons or brothers, they granted the more exalted title of Lord or Despot, which came with new honors and privileges, placing them right next to the emperor himself. The five titles of 1. Despot; 2. Sebastocrator; 3. Cæsar; 4. Panhypersebastos; and 5. Protosebastos; were typically reserved for the royal family: they were extensions of his majesty, but since they held no official duties, their roles were pointless and their authority unstable.

But in every monarchy the substantial powers of government must be divided and exercised by the ministers of the palace and treasury, the fleet and army. The titles alone can differ; and in the revolution of ages, the counts and præfects, the prætor and quæstor, insensibly descended, while their servants rose above their heads to the first honors of the state. 1. In a monarchy, which refers every object to the person of the prince, the care and ceremonies of the palace form the most respectable department. The Curopalata, so illustrious in the age of Justinian, was supplanted by the Protovestiare, whose primitive functions were limited to the custody of the wardrobe. From thence his jurisdiction was extended over the numerous menials of pomp and luxury; and he presided with his silver wand at the public and private audience. 2. In the ancient system of Constantine, the name of Logothete, or accountant, was applied to the receivers of the finances: the principal officers were distinguished as the Logothetes of the domain, of the posts, the army, the private and public treasure; and the great Logothete, the supreme guardian of the laws and revenues, is compared with the chancellor of the Latin monarchies. His discerning eye pervaded the civil administration; and he was assisted, in due subordination, by the eparch or præfect of the city, the first secretary, and the keepers of the privy seal, the archives, and the red or purple ink which was reserved for the sacred signature of the emperor alone. The introductor and interpreter of foreign ambassadors were the great Chiauss and the Dragoman, two names of Turkish origin, and which are still familiar to the Sublime Porte. 3. From the humble style and service of guards, the Domestics insensibly rose to the station of generals; the military themes of the East and West, the legions of Europe and Asia, were often divided, till the great Domestic was finally invested with the universal and absolute command of the land forces. The Protostrator, in his original functions, was the assistant of the emperor when he mounted on horseback: he gradually became the lieutenant of the great Domestic in the field; and his jurisdiction extended over the stables, the cavalry, and the royal train of hunting and hawking. The Stratopedarch was the great judge of the camp: the Protospathaire commanded the guards; the Constable, the great Æteriarch, and the Acolyth, were the separate chiefs of the Franks, the Barbarians, and the Varangi, or English, the mercenary strangers, who, at the decay of the national spirit, formed the nerve of the Byzantine armies. 4. The naval powers were under the command of the great Duke; in his absence they obeyed the great Drungaire of the fleet; and, in his place, the Emir, or Admiral, a name of Saracen extraction, but which has been naturalized in all the modern languages of Europe. Of these officers, and of many more whom it would be useless to enumerate, the civil and military hierarchy was framed. Their honors and emoluments, their dress and titles, their mutual salutations and respective preëminence, were balanced with more exquisite labor than would have fixed the constitution of a free people; and the code was almost perfect when this baseless fabric, the monument of pride and servitude, was forever buried in the ruins of the empire.

But in every monarchy, the main powers of government must be divided and carried out by the ministers of the palace and treasury, the navy, and the army. The titles may vary; as time passes, counts and prefects gradually decline in status, while their servants rise to top positions in the state. 1. In a monarchy that links everything to the figure of the prince, the management and rituals of the palace become the most respected area. The Curopalata, which was prominent during Justinian’s era, was replaced by the Protovestiare, whose initial role was simply to manage the wardrobe. From there, his authority grew to include the many attendants of luxury; he oversaw public and private audiences with his silver staff. 2. In Constantine’s ancient system, the title Logothete, or accountant, referred to the finance receivers: the main officials were identified as the Logothetes of the domain, the posts, the army, and both private and public treasures; the great Logothete, the supreme guardian of the laws and revenues, is likened to the chancellor of Latin monarchies. His keen eye oversaw civil administration; he was supported, in proper order, by the eparch or prefect of the city, the chief secretary, and the keepers of the privy seal, the archives, and the red or purple ink saved for the emperor's exclusive signature. The introducer and interpreter for foreign ambassadors were the great Chiauss and the Dragoman, two Turkish-origin titles still well-known at the Sublime Porte. 3. From a humble background and the role of guards, the Domestics gradually advanced to become generals; the military divisions of the East and West, as well as the armies of Europe and Asia, were often split, until the great Domestic held the ultimate and complete command of the land forces. The Protostrator, originally the emperor’s assistant while mounting a horse, evolved into the lieutenant of the great Domestic in the field; his responsibilities expanded to include the stables, the cavalry, and the royal hunting and hawking retinue. The Stratopedarch acted as the chief judge of the camp; the Protospathaire commanded the guards; and the Constable, the great Æteriarch, and the Acolyth were the respective leaders of the Franks, the Barbarians, and the Varangians or English, these foreign mercenaries who, in the decline of national spirit, constituted the backbone of the Byzantine armies. 4. The naval forces were led by the great Duke; in his absence, they followed the great Drungaire of the fleet; and in his stead, the Emir or Admiral, a title of Saracen origin but now integrated into all modern European languages. These officers, along with many others not worth detailing, formed the civil and military hierarchy. Their honors and earnings, their attire and titles, their mutual greetings and relative status, were arranged with more intricate care than that which would establish the constitution of a free people; and the framework was nearly perfect when this empty structure, a monument of arrogance and servitude, was ultimately buried in the ruins of the empire.





Chapter LIII: Fate Of The Eastern Empire.—Part III.

The most lofty titles, and the most humble postures, which devotion has applied to the Supreme Being, have been prostituted by flattery and fear to creatures of the same nature with ourselves. The mode of adoration, of falling prostrate on the ground, and kissing the feet of the emperor, was borrowed by Diocletian from Persian servitude; but it was continued and aggravated till the last age of the Greek monarchy. Excepting only on Sundays, when it was waived, from a motive of religious pride, this humiliating reverence was exacted from all who entered the royal presence, from the princes invested with the diadem and purple, and from the ambassadors who represented their independent sovereigns, the caliphs of Asia, Egypt, or Spain, the kings of France and Italy, and the Latin emperors of ancient Rome. In his transactions of business, Liutprand, bishop of Cremona, asserted the free spirit of a Frank and the dignity of his master Otho. Yet his sincerity cannot disguise the abasement of his first audience. When he approached the throne, the birds of the golden tree began to warble their notes, which were accompanied by the roarings of the two lions of gold. With his two companions Liutprand was compelled to bow and to fall prostrate; and thrice to touch the ground with his forehead. He arose, but in the short interval, the throne had been hoisted from the floor to the ceiling, the Imperial figure appeared in new and more gorgeous apparel, and the interview was concluded in haughty and majestic silence. In this honest and curious narrative, the Bishop of Cremona represents the ceremonies of the Byzantine court, which are still practised in the Sublime Porte, and which were preserved in the last age by the dukes of Muscovy or Russia. After a long journey by sea and land, from Venice to Constantinople, the ambassador halted at the golden gate, till he was conducted by the formal officers to the hospitable palace prepared for his reception; but this palace was a prison, and his jealous keepers prohibited all social intercourse either with strangers or natives. At his first audience, he offered the gifts of his master, slaves, and golden vases, and costly armor. The ostentatious payment of the officers and troops displayed before his eyes the riches of the empire: he was entertained at a royal banquet, in which the ambassadors of the nations were marshalled by the esteem or contempt of the Greeks: from his own table, the emperor, as the most signal favor, sent the plates which he had tasted; and his favorites were dismissed with a robe of honor. In the morning and evening of each day, his civil and military servants attended their duty in the palace; their labors were repaid by the sight, perhaps by the smile, of their lord; his commands were signified by a nod or a sign: but all earthly greatness stood silent and submissive in his presence. In his regular or extraordinary processions through the capital, he unveiled his person to the public view: the rites of policy were connected with those of religion, and his visits to the principal churches were regulated by the festivals of the Greek calendar. On the eve of these processions, the gracious or devout intention of the monarch was proclaimed by the heralds. The streets were cleared and purified; the pavement was strewed with flowers; the most precious furniture, the gold and silver plate, and silken hangings, were displayed from the windows and balconies, and a severe discipline restrained and silenced the tumult of the populace. The march was opened by the military officers at the head of their troops: they were followed in long order by the magistrates and ministers of the civil government: the person of the emperor was guarded by his eunuchs and domestics, and at the church door he was solemnly received by the patriarch and his clergy. The task of applause was not abandoned to the rude and spontaneous voices of the crowd. The most convenient stations were occupied by the bands of the blue and green factions of the circus; and their furious conflicts, which had shaken the capital, were insensibly sunk to an emulation of servitude. From either side they echoed in responsive melody the praises of the emperor; their poets and musicians directed the choir, and long life and victory were the burden of every song. The same acclamations were performed at the audience, the banquet, and the church; and as an evidence of boundless sway, they were repeated in the Latin, Gothic, Persian, French, and even English language, by the mercenaries who sustained the real or fictitious character of those nations. By the pen of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, this science of form and flattery has been reduced into a pompous and trifling volume, which the vanity of succeeding times might enrich with an ample supplement. Yet the calmer reflection of a prince would surely suggest that the same acclamations were applied to every character and every reign: and if he had risen from a private rank, he might remember, that his own voice had been the loudest and most eager in applause, at the very moment when he envied the fortune, or conspired against the life, of his predecessor.

The highest titles and the lowest acts of devotion that were given to the Supreme Being have been degraded by flattery and fear towards beings just like us. The practice of adoration, where people fell to the ground and kissed the emperor’s feet, was taken by Diocletian from Persian servitude; however, it continued and intensified until the final days of the Greek monarchy. This humiliating reverence was enforced for everyone entering the royal presence, except on Sundays, when it was abandoned out of a sense of religious pride. This included princes wearing the diadem and purple, as well as ambassadors representing their independent rulers, like the caliphs of Asia, Egypt, or Spain, and the kings of France and Italy, as well as the Latin emperors of ancient Rome. In his dealings, Liutprand, bishop of Cremona, showcased the free spirit of a Frank and the dignity of his master Otho. Yet even his sincerity couldn’t hide the humiliation of his first audience. As he approached the throne, the birds of the golden tree began to sing, synchronized with the roars of the two golden lions. Liutprand and his two companions had to bow down and fall prostrate, touching the ground with their foreheads three times. He stood up, but in that brief moment, the throne had been lifted to the ceiling, the Imperial figure appeared in new and grander clothing, and the meeting ended in a proud and majestic silence. In this honest and fascinating account, the Bishop of Cremona depicts the ceremonies of the Byzantine court, which are still practiced at the Sublime Porte, and were maintained until the last age by the dukes of Muscovy or Russia. After a long journey by sea and land from Venice to Constantinople, the ambassador stopped at the golden gate until formal officers escorted him to the hospitable palace prepared for his stay; but this palace was a prison, and his jealous guards prevented any social interactions with either strangers or locals. During his first audience, he presented gifts from his master, including slaves, golden vases, and expensive armor. The extravagant payment to the officers and troops displayed the empire's wealth before him: he was treated to a royal banquet where the ambassadors of various nations were arranged according to the Greeks' regard or disdain. From his own table, the emperor sent him the plates he had eaten from as a remarkable favor, and his favorites left adorned with a robe of honor. Each morning and evening, his civil and military servants carried out their duties in the palace; their efforts were rewarded by the sight, and perhaps the smile, of their lord; his commands were conveyed through a nod or gesture: yet all earthly greatness stood silent and submissive in his presence. During his regular or special processions through the capital, he revealed himself to the public: the rites of governance were intertwined with those of religion, and his visits to main churches aligned with the Greek calendar’s festivals. The night before these processions, the gracious or pious intentions of the monarch were announced by heralds. The streets were cleared and cleaned; the pavements were covered in flowers; the finest decorations, including gold and silver plates and silk hangings, were displayed from windows and balconies, while strict discipline kept the crowds quiet. The march began with military officers leading their troops, followed in long lines by the magistrates and civil government ministers. The emperor’s person was protected by his eunuchs and servants, and at the church door, he was ceremoniously greeted by the patriarch and clergy. The task of applauding wasn't left to the rough and spontaneous voices of the crowd. The prime spots were filled by the groups from the blue and green factions of the circus; and the fierce conflicts that had once shaken the capital had gradually turned into a display of subservience. From either side, they sang in harmony the praises of the emperor; their poets and musicians led the choir, with long life and victory being the theme of every song. The same cheers were heard at the audience, the feast, and the church; as a sign of boundless power, they were echoed in Latin, Gothic, Persian, French, and even English by the mercenaries representing those nations. Through the writing of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, this art of ritual and flattery has been recorded in a grand and trivial volume, which the pride of later times might expand upon. Yet, a more thoughtful prince would surely realize that the same praises were offered to every character and every reign: and if he had risen from humble beginnings, he might remember that his own voice had been the loudest and most eager in applause at the very moment he envied the success or plotted against the life of his predecessor.

The princes of the North, of the nations, says Constantine, without faith or fame, were ambitious of mingling their blood with the blood of the Cæsars, by their marriage with a royal virgin, or by the nuptials of their daughters with a Roman prince. The aged monarch, in his instructions to his son, reveals the secret maxims of policy and pride; and suggests the most decent reasons for refusing these insolent and unreasonable demands. Every animal, says the discreet emperor, is prompted by the distinction of language, religion, and manners. A just regard to the purity of descent preserves the harmony of public and private life; but the mixture of foreign blood is the fruitful source of disorder and discord. Such had ever been the opinion and practice of the sage Romans: their jurisprudence proscribed the marriage of a citizen and a stranger: in the days of freedom and virtue, a senator would have scorned to match his daughter with a king: the glory of Mark Antony was sullied by an Egyptian wife: and the emperor Titus was compelled, by popular censure, to dismiss with reluctance the reluctant Berenice. This perpetual interdict was ratified by the fabulous sanction of the great Constantine. The ambassadors of the nations, more especially of the unbelieving nations, were solemnly admonished, that such strange alliances had been condemned by the founder of the church and city. The irrevocable law was inscribed on the altar of St. Sophia; and the impious prince who should stain the majesty of the purple was excluded from the civil and ecclesiastical communion of the Romans. If the ambassadors were instructed by any false brethren in the Byzantine history, they might produce three memorable examples of the violation of this imaginary law: the marriage of Leo, or rather of his father Constantine the Fourth, with the daughter of the king of the Chozars, the nuptials of the granddaughter of Romanus with a Bulgarian prince, and the union of Bertha of France or Italy with young Romanus, the son of Constantine Porphyrogenitus himself. To these objections three answers were prepared, which solved the difficulty and established the law. I. The deed and the guilt of Constantine Copronymus were acknowledged. The Isaurian heretic, who sullied the baptismal font, and declared war against the holy images, had indeed embraced a Barbarian wife. By this impious alliance he accomplished the measure of his crimes, and was devoted to the just censure of the church and of posterity. II. Romanus could not be alleged as a legitimate emperor; he was a plebeian usurper, ignorant of the laws, and regardless of the honor, of the monarchy. His son Christopher, the father of the bride, was the third in rank in the college of princes, at once the subject and the accomplice of a rebellious parent. The Bulgarians were sincere and devout Christians; and the safety of the empire, with the redemption of many thousand captives, depended on this preposterous alliance. Yet no consideration could dispense from the law of Constantine: the clergy, the senate, and the people, disapproved the conduct of Romanus; and he was reproached, both in his life and death, as the author of the public disgrace. III. For the marriage of his own son with the daughter of Hugo, king of Italy, a more honorable defence is contrived by the wise Porphyrogenitus. Constantine, the great and holy, esteemed the fidelity and valor of the Franks; and his prophetic spirit beheld the vision of their future greatness. They alone were excepted from the general prohibition: Hugo, king of France, was the lineal descendant of Charlemagne; and his daughter Bertha inherited the prerogatives of her family and nation. The voice of truth and malice insensibly betrayed the fraud or error of the Imperial court. The patrimonial estate of Hugo was reduced from the monarchy of France to the simple county of Arles; though it was not denied, that, in the confusion of the times, he had usurped the sovereignty of Provence, and invaded the kingdom of Italy. His father was a private noble; and if Bertha derived her female descent from the Carlovingian line, every step was polluted with illegitimacy or vice. The grandmother of Hugo was the famous Valdrada, the concubine, rather than the wife, of the second Lothair; whose adultery, divorce, and second nuptials, had provoked against him the thunders of the Vatican. His mother, as she was styled, the great Bertha, was successively the wife of the count of Arles and of the marquis of Tuscany: France and Italy were scandalized by her gallantries; and, till the age of threescore, her lovers, of every degree, were the zealous servants of her ambition. The example of maternal incontinence was copied by the king of Italy; and the three favorite concubines of Hugo were decorated with the classic names of Venus, Juno, and Semele. The daughter of Venus was granted to the solicitations of the Byzantine court: her name of Bertha was changed to that of Eudoxia; and she was wedded, or rather betrothed, to young Romanus, the future heir of the empire of the East. The consummation of this foreign alliance was suspended by the tender age of the two parties; and, at the end of five years, the union was dissolved by the death of the virgin spouse. The second wife of the emperor Romanus was a maiden of plebeian, but of Roman, birth; and their two daughters, Theophano and Anne, were given in marriage to the princes of the earth. The eldest was bestowed, as the pledge of peace, on the eldest son of the great Otho, who had solicited this alliance with arms and embassies. It might legally be questioned how far a Saxon was entitled to the privilege of the French nation; but every scruple was silenced by the fame and piety of a hero who had restored the empire of the West. After the death of her father-in-law and husband, Theophano governed Rome, Italy, and Germany, during the minority of her son, the third Otho; and the Latins have praised the virtues of an empress, who sacrificed to a superior duty the remembrance of her country. In the nuptials of her sister Anne, every prejudice was lost, and every consideration of dignity was superseded, by the stronger argument of necessity and fear. A Pagan of the North, Wolodomir, great prince of Russia, aspired to a daughter of the Roman purple; and his claim was enforced by the threats of war, the promise of conversion, and the offer of a powerful succor against a domestic rebel. A victim of her religion and country, the Grecian princess was torn from the palace of her fathers, and condemned to a savage reign, and a hopeless exile on the banks of the Borysthenes, or in the neighborhood of the Polar circle. Yet the marriage of Anne was fortunate and fruitful: the daughter of her grandson Joroslaus was recommended by her Imperial descent; and the king of France, Henry I., sought a wife on the last borders of Europe and Christendom.

The princes from the North, from various nations, says Constantine, lacking faith or reputation, were eager to combine their lineage with that of the Cæsars by marrying a royal virgin or by having their daughters marry a Roman prince. The aging monarch, in his advice to his son, reveals the hidden principles of statecraft and pride, while providing the most appropriate reasons to refuse these arrogant and unreasonable requests. Every creature, the wise emperor states, is motivated by differences in language, religion, and customs. A true respect for the purity of lineage maintains balance in both public and private life; however, mixing foreign blood breeds disorder and discord. This had always been the belief and practice of the wise Romans: their laws forbade the marriage of a citizen and a foreigner; in times of freedom and virtue, a senator would have looked down on marrying his daughter to a king: Mark Antony's glory was tarnished by his Egyptian wife; and Emperor Titus was reluctantly compelled by public disapproval to send away the unwilling Berenice. This ongoing prohibition was confirmed by the legendary authority of the great Constantine. The ambassadors from the nations, particularly those from non-believing nations, were solemnly warned that such unusual alliances had been condemned by the founder of the church and city. The unchangeable law was inscribed on the altar of St. Sophia; and any impious ruler who dared to tarnish the dignity of imperial purple was excluded from the civil and ecclesiastical community of the Romans. If the ambassadors were misled by any false friends in Byzantine history, they might cite three significant examples of violations of this nonexistent law: the marriage of Leo, or rather his father Constantine the Fourth, to the daughter of the king of the Chozars, the marriage of the granddaughter of Romanus to a Bulgarian prince, and the union of Bertha, from France or Italy, with young Romanus, the very son of Constantine Porphyrogenitus. To these objections, three responses were prepared to address the issues and confirm the law. I. The actions and sins of Constantine Copronymus were acknowledged. The Isaurian heretic, who polluted the baptismal font and waged war against sacred images, indeed took a Barbarian wife. Through this ungodly alliance, he fulfilled the extent of his crimes and was deserving of the rightful condemnation of the church and future generations. II. Romanus could not be considered a legitimate emperor; he was a plebeian usurper, ignorant of the laws, and oblivious to the respect owed to the crown. His son Christopher, the father of the bride, was third in rank among the princes, both a subject and an accomplice of a treasonous parent. The Bulgarians were genuine and devoted Christians; and the safety of the empire, along with the rescue of many thousand captives, hinged upon this absurd alliance. Yet no considerations could absolve him from the law laid by Constantine: the clergy, the senate, and the people disapproved of Romanus's actions; he was slandered both in life and after death as the cause of public shame. III. A more honorable defense for the marriage of his own son to the daughter of Hugo, king of Italy, was crafted by the wise Porphyrogenitus. Constantine, the great and holy, valued the loyalty and bravery of the Franks; and his prophetic insight foresaw their future greatness. They alone were excluded from the general ban: Hugo, king of France, was a direct descendant of Charlemagne; and his daughter Bertha inherited the rights of her family and nation. The truth and malice of the situation gradually revealed the deception or mistakes of the Imperial court. Hugo's ancestral estate shrank from the monarchy of France to a mere county of Arles; although it was accepted that, amid the chaos of the time, he had seized sovereignty over Provence and invaded Italy. His father was a private noble; and even if Bertha was linked to the Carolingian line through her mother, each step was tainted with illegitimacy or vice. Hugo's grandmother was the infamous Valdrada, the concubine, rather than the wife, of the second Lothair; whose adultery, divorce, and remarriage had drawn the condemnation of the Vatican. His mother, known as the great Bertha, was married successively to the count of Arles and the marquis of Tuscany; France and Italy were scandalized by her liaisons, and until she reached sixty, her lovers of all ranks were eager servants to her ambitions. The example of her mother’s infidelity was mirrored by the king of Italy; and Hugo’s three favored mistresses were given the classic names of Venus, Juno, and Semele. The daughter of Venus succumbed to the requests of the Byzantine court: her name Bertha was changed to Eudoxia; and she was married, or rather betrothed, to young Romanus, the future heir of the Eastern empire. The consummation of this foreign union was delayed due to the young age of both parties; and, after five years, the union ended with the death of the virgin bride. The second wife of Emperor Romanus was a maiden of plebeian, yet Roman, origin; and their two daughters, Theophano and Anne, were married off to princes from various lands. The eldest was given, as a pledge of peace, to the eldest son of the great Otho, who had sought this alliance through arms and diplomacy. It could legally be questioned how far a Saxon could claim the rights of the French nation; but every doubt was silenced by the reputation and piety of a hero who had restored the Western empire. After the deaths of her father-in-law and husband, Theophano governed Rome, Italy, and Germany during the minority of her son, the third Otho; and the Latins praised the virtues of an empress who sacrificed her national pride for a greater duty. In the marriage of her sister Anne, all biases faded, and concerns of status were set aside, overridden by the more pressing arguments of necessity and fear. A Pagan from the North, Wolodomir, great prince of Russia, sought to marry a daughter of the Roman imperial family; and his claim was backed by threats of war, promises of conversion, and offers of significant support against a domestic rebel. A victim of her faith and homeland, the Greek princess was taken from her family’s palace, sentenced to a harsh reign, and faced hopeless exile on the banks of the Borysthenes or near the Arctic Circle. Yet Anne's marriage proved fortunate and fruitful: her grandson Joroslaus's daughter was favored because of her Imperial lineage; and Henry I, king of France, sought a wife from the farthest reaches of Europe and Christendom.

In the Byzantine palace, the emperor was the first slave of the ceremonies which he imposed, of the rigid forms which regulated each word and gesture, besieged him in the palace, and violated the leisure of his rural solitude. But the lives and fortunes of millions hung on his arbitrary will; and the firmest minds, superior to the allurements of pomp and luxury, may be seduced by the more active pleasure of commanding their equals. The legislative and executive powers were centred in the person of the monarch, and the last remains of the authority of the senate were finally eradicated by Leo the philosopher. A lethargy of servitude had benumbed the minds of the Greeks: in the wildest tumults of rebellion they never aspired to the idea of a free constitution; and the private character of the prince was the only source and measure of their public happiness. Superstition rivetted their chains; in the church of St. Sophia he was solemnly crowned by the patriarch; at the foot of the altar, they pledged their passive and unconditional obedience to his government and family. On his side he engaged to abstain as much as possible from the capital punishments of death and mutilation; his orthodox creed was subscribed with his own hand, and he promised to obey the decrees of the seven synods, and the canons of the holy church. But the assurance of mercy was loose and indefinite: he swore, not to his people, but to an invisible judge; and except in the inexpiable guilt of heresy, the ministers of heaven were always prepared to preach the indefeasible right, and to absolve the venial transgressions, of their sovereign. The Greek ecclesiastics were themselves the subjects of the civil magistrate: at the nod of a tyrant, the bishops were created, or transferred, or deposed, or punished with an ignominious death: whatever might be their wealth or influence, they could never succeed like the Latin clergy in the establishment of an independent republic; and the patriarch of Constantinople condemned, what he secretly envied, the temporal greatness of his Roman brother. Yet the exercise of boundless despotism is happily checked by the laws of nature and necessity. In proportion to his wisdom and virtue, the master of an empire is confined to the path of his sacred and laborious duty. In proportion to his vice and folly, he drops the sceptre too weighty for his hands; and the motions of the royal image are ruled by the imperceptible thread of some minister or favorite, who undertakes for his private interest to exercise the task of the public oppression. In some fatal moment, the most absolute monarch may dread the reason or the caprice of a nation of slaves; and experience has proved, that whatever is gained in the extent, is lost in the safety and solidity, of regal power.

In the Byzantine palace, the emperor was the ultimate servant of the ceremonies he enforced, bound by strict rules that dictated every word and gesture, which surrounded him in the palace and interrupted his peaceful rural life. Yet, the lives and fortunes of millions depended on his arbitrary decisions; even the strongest individuals, who could resist the temptations of wealth and splendor, could be lured by the more enticing pleasure of controlling their peers. The legislative and executive powers were held within the monarch's authority, and the last remnants of the senate's power were ultimately wiped out by Leo the philosopher. A state of servitude had numbed the minds of the Greeks: in the most chaotic uprisings, they never dreamed of a free constitution; and the private nature of the prince was the only source and standard of their public happiness. Superstition reinforced their chains; in the church of St. Sophia, he was formally crowned by the patriarch; at the altar, they pledged their passive and unconditional loyalty to him and his family. In return, he promised to minimize the use of capital punishment and mutilation; he signed his orthodox beliefs and vowed to uphold the decrees of the seven synods and the laws of the holy church. However, his promise of mercy was vague and unclear: he swore, not to his people, but to an unseen judge; and barring the unpardonable sin of heresy, the heavenly ministers were always ready to preach the undeniable right and forgive the minor offenses of their ruler. The Greek clergy were also subjects to the civil authority: at the command of a tyrant, bishops could be appointed, transferred, deposed, or even murdered in disgrace. No matter their wealth or influence, they could never replicate the Latin clergy's success in forming an independent republic; and the patriarch of Constantinople begrudgingly condemned, yet secretly envied, the worldly power of his Roman counterpart. Still, the exercise of unlimited tyranny is fortunately restricted by the laws of nature and necessity. The greater the emperor's wisdom and virtue, the more he is bound to the responsibilities of his sacred and demanding role. Conversely, with greater vice and foolishness, he risks dropping the burden of power beyond his capability; and the actions of the royal figure are often controlled by the invisible thread of some minister or favorite, who manipulates the emperor for personal gain while enforcing public oppression. In critical moments, even the most absolute monarch may fear the reasoning or whims of a nation of subservients; and history shows that whatever is gained in reach is often lost in the security and stability of royal power.

Whatever titles a despot may assume, whatever claims he may assert, it is on the sword that he must ultimately depend to guard him against his foreign and domestic enemies. From the age of Charlemagne to that of the Crusades, the world (for I overlook the remote monarchy of China) was occupied and disputed by the three great empires or nations of the Greeks, the Saracens, and the Franks. Their military strength may be ascertained by a comparison of their courage, their arts and riches, and their obedience to a supreme head, who might call into action all the energies of the state. The Greeks, far inferior to their rivals in the first, were superior to the Franks, and at least equal to the Saracens, in the second and third of these warlike qualifications.

Whatever titles a dictator may take on, whatever claims he may make, he ultimately relies on the sword to protect him from both foreign and domestic enemies. From the time of Charlemagne to the Crusades, the world (excluding the distant monarchy of China) was occupied and contested by the three major empires or nations of the Greeks, the Saracens, and the Franks. Their military strength can be measured by comparing their courage, their arts and wealth, and their obedience to a supreme leader who could mobilize all the resources of the state. The Greeks, significantly weaker than their rivals in courage, were superior to the Franks and at least equal to the Saracens in the other two aspects of martial capability.

The wealth of the Greeks enabled them to purchase the service of the poorer nations, and to maintain a naval power for the protection of their coasts and the annoyance of their enemies. A commerce of mutual benefit exchanged the gold of Constantinople for the blood of Sclavonians and Turks, the Bulgarians and Russians: their valor contributed to the victories of Nicephorus and Zimisces; and if a hostile people pressed too closely on the frontier, they were recalled to the defence of their country, and the desire of peace, by the well-managed attack of a more distant tribe. The command of the Mediterranean, from the mouth of the Tanais to the columns of Hercules, was always claimed, and often possessed, by the successors of Constantine. Their capital was filled with naval stores and dexterous artificers: the situation of Greece and Asia, the long coasts, deep gulfs, and numerous islands, accustomed their subjects to the exercise of navigation; and the trade of Venice and Amalfi supplied a nursery of seamen to the Imperial fleet. Since the time of the Peloponnesian and Punic wars, the sphere of action had not been enlarged; and the science of naval architecture appears to have declined. The art of constructing those stupendous machines which displayed three, or six, or ten, ranges of oars, rising above, or falling behind, each other, was unknown to the ship-builders of Constantinople, as well as to the mechanicians of modern days. The Dromones, or light galleys of the Byzantine empire, were content with two tier of oars; each tier was composed of five-and-twenty benches; and two rowers were seated on each bench, who plied their oars on either side of the vessel. To these we must add the captain or centurion, who, in time of action, stood erect with his armor-bearer on the poop, two steersmen at the helm, and two officers at the prow, the one to manage the anchor, the other to point and play against the enemy the tube of liquid fire. The whole crew, as in the infancy of the art, performed the double service of mariners and soldiers; they were provided with defensive and offensive arms, with bows and arrows, which they used from the upper deck, with long pikes, which they pushed through the portholes of the lower tier. Sometimes, indeed, the ships of war were of a larger and more solid construction; and the labors of combat and navigation were more regularly divided between seventy soldiers and two hundred and thirty mariners. But for the most part they were of the light and manageable size; and as the Cape of Malea in Peloponnesus was still clothed with its ancient terrors, an Imperial fleet was transported five miles over land across the Isthmus of Corinth. The principles of maritime tactics had not undergone any change since the time of Thucydides: a squadron of galleys still advanced in a crescent, charged to the front, and strove to impel their sharp beaks against the feeble sides of their antagonists. A machine for casting stones and darts was built of strong timbers, in the midst of the deck; and the operation of boarding was effected by a crane that hoisted baskets of armed men. The language of signals, so clear and copious in the naval grammar of the moderns, was imperfectly expressed by the various positions and colors of a commanding flag. In the darkness of the night, the same orders to chase, to attack, to halt, to retreat, to break, to form, were conveyed by the lights of the leading galley. By land, the fire-signals were repeated from one mountain to another; a chain of eight stations commanded a space of five hundred miles; and Constantinople in a few hours was apprised of the hostile motions of the Saracens of Tarsus. Some estimate may be formed of the power of the Greek emperors, by the curious and minute detail of the armament which was prepared for the reduction of Crete. A fleet of one hundred and twelve galleys, and seventy-five vessels of the Pamphylian style, was equipped in the capital, the islands of the Ægean Sea, and the seaports of Asia, Macedonia, and Greece. It carried thirty-four thousand mariners, seven thousand three hundred and forty soldiers, seven hundred Russians, and five thousand and eighty-seven Mardaites, whose fathers had been transplanted from the mountains of Libanus. Their pay, most probably of a month, was computed at thirty-four centenaries of gold, about one hundred and thirty-six thousand pounds sterling. Our fancy is bewildered by the endless recapitulation of arms and engines, of clothes and linen, of bread for the men and forage for the horses, and of stores and utensils of every description, inadequate to the conquest of a petty island, but amply sufficient for the establishment of a flourishing colony.

The wealth of the Greeks allowed them to hire the services of poorer nations and maintain a navy to protect their shores and disrupt their enemies. They engaged in mutually beneficial trade, exchanging gold from Constantinople for the manpower of Slavs and Turks, Bulgarians, and Russians: their bravery contributed to the victories of Nicephorus and Zimisces. When an enemy nation threatened the border too closely, they were recalled to defend their homeland, motivated by a well-timed attack from a more distant tribe. The successors of Constantine always claimed and often controlled the Mediterranean, from the mouth of the Tanais to the columns of Hercules. Their capital was stocked with naval supplies and skilled artisans: Greece and Asia's geography, with their long coastlines, deep bays, and many islands, trained their people in navigation. The trade of Venice and Amalfi provided a pool of sailors for the Imperial fleet. Since the Peloponnesian and Punic Wars, the scope of naval operations hadn’t expanded; and the art of naval architecture seemed to have declined. The ability to build those massive ships with three, six, or ten tiers of oars, stacked multiple levels high, was unknown to the shipbuilders of Constantinople and modern engineers alike. The Dromones, or light galleys of the Byzantine Empire, had only two tiers of oars; each tier had twenty-five benches, with two rowers on each bench, who rowed on either side of the boat. Additionally, the captain or centurion stood upright with his armor-bearer at the back, along with two steersmen at the helm and two officers at the front – one managing the anchor and the other directing the tube that launched incendiary projectiles at the enemy. The entire crew performed as both sailors and soldiers; they carried defensive and offensive weapons, using bows and arrows from the upper deck, and long spears that they thrust through the portholes of the lower tier. Sometimes, the warships were larger and sturdier, with tasks in battle and navigation divided more evenly between seventy soldiers and two hundred and thirty sailors. But generally, they were lightweight and easy to handle; and since the Cape of Malea in Peloponnesus was still feared, an Imperial fleet was moved five miles overland across the Isthmus of Corinth. Maritime tactics hadn't changed since Thucydides: a fleet of galleys still advanced in a crescent formation, charging forward and trying to ram their sharp prows into the vulnerable sides of their opponents. A device for shooting stones and darts was built on the deck, and a crane was used to hoist groups of armed men aboard. The signaling system, which is so clear and extensive in modern naval operations, was somewhat rudimentary, relying on different positions and colors of a commanding flag. At night, commands to pursue, attack, stop, retreat, break, or form were conveyed through the lights of the leading galley. On land, fire signals were relayed from mountain to mountain; a chain of eight stations covered a distance of five hundred miles; and Constantinople was quickly informed about the movements of the Saracens from Tarsus. We can get a sense of the power of the Greek emperors from the detailed account of the military preparations for the conquest of Crete. A fleet of one hundred and twelve galleys and seventy-five ships of the Pamphylian type was prepared in the capital, the islands of the Ægean Sea, and the ports of Asia, Macedonia, and Greece. It carried thirty-four thousand sailors, seven thousand three hundred and forty soldiers, seven hundred Russians, and five thousand eighty-seven Mardaites, whose ancestors came from the mountains of Lebanon. Their pay, likely calculated for a month, totaled thirty-four centenaries of gold, about one hundred thirty-six thousand pounds sterling. The details of weapons, equipment, clothing, and provisions for both men and horses, along with various supplies and tools, seem overwhelming, insufficient for conquering a small island but more than enough for establishing a thriving colony.

The invention of the Greek fire did not, like that of gun powder, produce a total revolution in the art of war. To these liquid combustibles the city and empire of Constantine owed their deliverance; and they were employed in sieges and sea-fights with terrible effect. But they were either less improved, or less susceptible of improvement: the engines of antiquity, the catapultæ, balistæ, and battering-rams, were still of most frequent and powerful use in the attack and defence of fortifications; nor was the decision of battles reduced to the quick and heavy fire of a line of infantry, whom it were fruitless to protect with armor against a similar fire of their enemies. Steel and iron were still the common instruments of destruction and safety; and the helmets, cuirasses, and shields, of the tenth century did not, either in form or substance, essentially differ from those which had covered the companions of Alexander or Achilles. But instead of accustoming the modern Greeks, like the legionaries of old, to the constant and easy use of this salutary weight, their armor was laid aside in light chariots, which followed the march, till, on the approach of an enemy, they resumed with haste and reluctance the unusual encumbrance. Their offensive weapons consisted of swords, battle-axes, and spears; but the Macedonian pike was shortened a fourth of its length, and reduced to the more convenient measure of twelve cubits or feet. The sharpness of the Scythian and Arabian arrows had been severely felt; and the emperors lament the decay of archery as a cause of the public misfortunes, and recommend, as an advice and a command, that the military youth, till the age of forty, should assiduously practise the exercise of the bow. The bands, or regiments, were usually three hundred strong; and, as a medium between the extremes of four and sixteen, the foot soldiers of Leo and Constantine were formed eight deep; but the cavalry charged in four ranks, from the reasonable consideration, that the weight of the front could not be increased by any pressure of the hindmost horses. If the ranks of the infantry or cavalry were sometimes doubled, this cautious array betrayed a secret distrust of the courage of the troops, whose numbers might swell the appearance of the line, but of whom only a chosen band would dare to encounter the spears and swords of the Barbarians. The order of battle must have varied according to the ground, the object, and the adversary; but their ordinary disposition, in two lines and a reserve, presented a succession of hopes and resources most agreeable to the temper as well as the judgment of the Greeks. In case of a repulse, the first line fell back into the intervals of the second; and the reserve, breaking into two divisions, wheeled round the flanks to improve the victory or cover the retreat. Whatever authority could enact was accomplished, at least in theory, by the camps and marches, the exercises and evolutions, the edicts and books, of the Byzantine monarch. Whatever art could produce from the forge, the loom, or the laboratory, was abundantly supplied by the riches of the prince, and the industry of his numerous workmen. But neither authority nor art could frame the most important machine, the soldier himself; and if the ceremonies of Constantine always suppose the safe and triumphal return of the emperor, his tactics seldom soar above the means of escaping a defeat, and procrastinating the war. Notwithstanding some transient success, the Greeks were sunk in their own esteem and that of their neighbors. A cold hand and a loquacious tongue was the vulgar description of the nation: the author of the tactics was besieged in his capital; and the last of the Barbarians, who trembled at the name of the Saracens, or Franks, could proudly exhibit the medals of gold and silver which they had extorted from the feeble sovereign of Constantinople. What spirit their government and character denied, might have been inspired in some degree by the influence of religion; but the religion of the Greeks could only teach them to suffer and to yield. The emperor Nicephorus, who restored for a moment the discipline and glory of the Roman name, was desirous of bestowing the honors of martyrdom on the Christians who lost their lives in a holy war against the infidels. But this political law was defeated by the opposition of the patriarch, the bishops, and the principal senators; and they strenuously urged the canons of St. Basil, that all who were polluted by the bloody trade of a soldier should be separated, during three years, from the communion of the faithful.

The invention of Greek fire didn't, unlike gunpowder, completely revolutionize warfare. The city and empire of Constantine relied on these liquid combustibles for their survival, using them in sieges and naval battles with devastating results. However, they were either less advanced or not as easily improved upon: the ancient weapons like catapults, ballistae, and battering rams were still commonly and effectively used in attacking and defending fortifications. Battles were not decided by the rapid and heavy fire of infantry lines, as there was no point in protecting soldiers with armor against a similar assault from their enemies. Steel and iron remained the usual tools of destruction and protection, and the helmets, breastplates, and shields of the tenth century didn’t significantly differ in design or material from those used by Alexander’s or Achilles’ companions. Unlike the old legionaries, who were trained to effectively carry this essential weight, modern Greeks left their armor on light chariots that followed them until they had to hurriedly don their cumbersome gear when facing an enemy. Their offensive weapons included swords, battle-axes, and spears, but the Macedonian pike had been shortened by a quarter, trimmed down to a more manageable twelve feet. The sharpness of Scythian and Arabian arrows had been painfully felt, leading the emperors to lament the decline of archery as a public disaster and to recommend that military youth practice with bows until they turned forty, both as advice and a directive. The regiments, or bands, typically consisted of three hundred soldiers; as a compromise between four and sixteen, the foot soldiers of Leo and Constantine formed eight deep, while cavalry charged in four ranks, recognizing that the weight of the front could not be enhanced by pressing the horses from behind. If infantry or cavalry ranks were ever doubled, this cautious formation revealed a hidden lack of trust in the troops' bravery, where only a select few would dare confront the spears and swords of the Barbarians. The order of battle likely changed based on terrain, objectives, and opponents, but their standard setup, in two lines with a reserve, provided a sequence of hope and resources that suited both the mindset and judgment of the Greeks. In the event of a setback, the front line would withdraw into the gaps of the second, while the reserve, divided in two, would maneuver around the flanks to capitalize on victory or protect a retreat. Whatever authority could establish was achieved, at least theoretically, through the camps, marches, drills, formations, edicts, and writings of the Byzantine emperor. Everything that craft could produce from forges, looms, or laboratories was generously supplied by the wealth of the emperor and the efforts of his many workers. However, neither authority nor craftsmanship could create the most crucial component, the soldier himself; and while Constantine's ceremonies often envisioned his safe and victorious return, his tactics rarely went beyond means to avoid defeat and delay war. Despite some fleeting successes, the Greeks were mired in disdain for themselves and from others. The common perception of the people was one of coldness and verbosity: the author of the tactics was confined in his capital, and the last of the Barbarians, who feared the Saracens or Franks, could boastfully display gold and silver medals they had seized from the weakened ruler of Constantinople. Any spirit lacking in their government and character might have received some encouragement from religion; however, the Greek faith only taught them to endure and submit. Emperor Nicephorus, who briefly restored discipline and the glory of Rome, wanted to grant martyrdom to the Christians who died in a righteous war against nonbelievers. But this political effort was thwarted by the patriarch, bishops, and leading senators, who strongly referenced the canons of St. Basil, insisting that anyone involved in the bloody profession of a soldier be barred from communion with the faithful for three years.

These scruples of the Greeks have been compared with the tears of the primitive Moslems when they were held back from battle; and this contrast of base superstition and high-spirited enthusiasm, unfolds to a philosophic eye the history of the rival nations. The subjects of the last caliphs had undoubtedly degenerated from the zeal and faith of the companions of the prophet. Yet their martial creed still represented the Deity as the author of war: the vital though latent spark of fanaticism still glowed in the heart of their religion, and among the Saracens, who dwelt on the Christian borders, it was frequently rekindled to a lively and active flame. Their regular force was formed of the valiant slaves who had been educated to guard the person and accompany the standard of their lord: but the Mussulman people of Syria and Cilicia, of Africa and Spain, was awakened by the trumpet which proclaimed a holy war against the infidels. The rich were ambitious of death or victory in the cause of God; the poor were allured by the hopes of plunder; and the old, the infirm, and the women, assumed their share of meritorious service by sending their substitutes, with arms and horses, into the field. These offensive and defensive arms were similar in strength and temper to those of the Romans, whom they far excelled in the management of the horse and the bow: the massy silver of their belts, their bridles, and their swords, displayed the magnificence of a prosperous nation; and except some black archers of the South, the Arabs disdained the naked bravery of their ancestors. Instead of wagons, they were attended by a long train of camels, mules, and asses: the multitude of these animals, whom they bedecked with flags and streamers, appeared to swell the pomp and magnitude of their host; and the horses of the enemy were often disordered by the uncouth figure and odious smell of the camels of the East. Invincible by their patience of thirst and heat, their spirits were frozen by a winter's cold, and the consciousness of their propensity to sleep exacted the most rigorous precautions against the surprises of the night. Their order of battle was a long square of two deep and solid lines; the first of archers, the second of cavalry. In their engagements by sea and land, they sustained with patient firmness the fury of the attack, and seldom advanced to the charge till they could discern and oppress the lassitude of their foes. But if they were repulsed and broken, they knew not how to rally or renew the combat; and their dismay was heightened by the superstitious prejudice, that God had declared himself on the side of their enemies. The decline and fall of the caliphs countenanced this fearful opinion; nor were there wanting, among the Mahometans and Christians, some obscure prophecies which prognosticated their alternate defeats. The unity of the Arabian empire was dissolved, but the independent fragments were equal to populous and powerful kingdoms; and in their naval and military armaments, an emir of Aleppo or Tunis might command no despicable fund of skill, and industry, and treasure. In their transactions of peace and war with the Saracens, the princes of Constantinople too often felt that these Barbarians had nothing barbarous in their discipline; and that if they were destitute of original genius, they had been endowed with a quick spirit of curiosity and imitation. The model was indeed more perfect than the copy; their ships, and engines, and fortifications, were of a less skilful construction; and they confess, without shame, that the same God who has given a tongue to the Arabians, had more nicely fashioned the hands of the Chinese, and the heads of the Greeks.

These doubts of the Greeks have been likened to the tears of the early Muslims when they were held back from battle; this contrast between misguided superstition and spirited enthusiasm reveals the history of the rival nations to a thoughtful observer. The subjects of the last caliphs had undoubtedly strayed from the zeal and faith of the prophet's companions. Still, their martial belief portrayed the Deity as the source of war: the essential, albeit dormant, spark of fanaticism continued to burn within their religion, and among the Saracens living near Christian territories, it was often reignited into a vibrant and active flame. Their standing army was made up of brave slaves trained to protect their lord and carry his banner: but the Muslim population from Syria and Cilicia, Africa, and Spain was stirred by the call to arms proclaiming a holy war against the infidels. The wealthy were eager for death or victory in God’s cause; the poor were drawn by the chances of loot; and the elderly, the sick, and women contributed by sending substitutes, equipped with weapons and horses, to the battlefield. These offensive and defensive arms were as strong and well-made as those of the Romans, whom they surpassed in horsemanship and archery: the heavy silver of their belts, bridles, and swords showcased the wealth of a prosperous nation; and, except for a few black archers from the South, the Arabs looked down upon the raw bravery of their ancestors. Instead of carts, they were accompanied by a long line of camels, mules, and donkeys: the sheer number of these animals, adorned with flags and streamers, seemed to enhance the grandeur of their army; and the enemy's horses were often unsettled by the strange appearance and unpleasant odor of the Eastern camels. Unbeatable in their endurance of thirst and heat, they struggled with the cold of winter, and their tendency to sleep required strict measures against nighttime surprises. Their battle formation was a long rectangle of two deep and solid lines; the first comprised archers, the second cavalry. In both sea and land battles, they withstood the intensity of the attack with patient resilience, rarely launching an offensive until they perceived their enemies' fatigue. However, if they were forced back and shattered, they did not know how to regroup or resume the fight; their fear was intensified by the superstitious belief that God had sided with their enemies. The decline and fall of the caliphs supported this fearful notion; nor were there lacking obscure prophecies among both Muslims and Christians that foretold their alternate defeats. The unity of the Arab empire had dissolved, but the independent fragments had grown into populous and powerful kingdoms; and in their naval and military capabilities, an emir from Aleppo or Tunis could command a substantial reserve of skill, resources, and wealth. In their dealings of peace and war with the Saracens, the princes of Constantinople often found that these so-called Barbarians had no barbarism in their discipline; and that if they lacked original genius, they had been blessed with a keen sense of curiosity and the ability to imitate. The model was indeed more refined than the imitation; their ships, machines, and fortifications were less skillfully constructed; and they readily admitted that the same God who gave a voice to the Arabs had more finely crafted the hands of the Chinese and the minds of the Greeks.





Chapter LIII: Fate Of The Eastern Empire.—Part IV.

A name of some German tribes between the Rhine and the Weser had spread its victorious influence over the greatest part of Gaul, Germany, and Italy; and the common appellation of Franks was applied by the Greeks and Arabians to the Christians of the Latin church, the nations of the West, who stretched beyond their knowledge to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. The vast body had been inspired and united by the soul of Charlemagne; but the division and degeneracy of his race soon annihilated the Imperial power, which would have rivalled the Cæsars of Byzantium, and revenged the indignities of the Christian name. The enemies no longer feared, nor could the subjects any longer trust, the application of a public revenue, the labors of trade and manufactures in the military service, the mutual aid of provinces and armies, and the naval squadrons which were regularly stationed from the mouth of the Elbe to that of the Tyber. In the beginning of the tenth century, the family of Charlemagne had almost disappeared; his monarchy was broken into many hostile and independent states; the regal title was assumed by the most ambitious chiefs; their revolt was imitated in a long subordination of anarchy and discord, and the nobles of every province disobeyed their sovereign, oppressed their vassals, and exercised perpetual hostilities against their equals and neighbors. Their private wars, which overturned the fabric of government, fomented the martial spirit of the nation. In the system of modern Europe, the power of the sword is possessed, at least in fact, by five or six mighty potentates; their operations are conducted on a distant frontier, by an order of men who devote their lives to the study and practice of the military art: the rest of the country and community enjoys in the midst of war the tranquillity of peace, and is only made sensible of the change by the aggravation or decrease of the public taxes. In the disorders of the tenth and eleventh centuries, every peasant was a soldier, and every village a fortification; each wood or valley was a scene of murder and rapine; and the lords of each castle were compelled to assume the character of princes and warriors. To their own courage and policy they boldly trusted for the safety of their family, the protection of their lands, and the revenge of their injuries; and, like the conquerors of a larger size, they were too apt to transgress the privilege of defensive war. The powers of the mind and body were hardened by the presence of danger and necessity of resolution: the same spirit refused to desert a friend and to forgive an enemy; and, instead of sleeping under the guardian care of a magistrate, they proudly disdained the authority of the laws. In the days of feudal anarchy, the instruments of agriculture and art were converted into the weapons of bloodshed: the peaceful occupations of civil and ecclesiastical society were abolished or corrupted; and the bishop who exchanged his mitre for a helmet, was more forcibly urged by the manners of the times than by the obligation of his tenure.

A name from some German tribes between the Rhine and the Weser had spread its victorious influence over most of Gaul, Germany, and Italy; and the term Franks was used by the Greeks and Arabs to refer to the Christians of the Latin church, the nations of the West, who extended beyond their knowledge to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. This vast group had been inspired and united by the spirit of Charlemagne; however, the division and decline of his lineage soon destroyed the Imperial power, which could have rivaled the Caesars of Byzantium and avenged the wrongs done to the Christian name. Enemies no longer feared him, nor could subjects trust how public funds were spent, the efforts of trade and manufacturing in military service, the mutual support of provinces and armies, or the naval fleets regularly stationed from the mouth of the Elbe to that of the Tiber. By the early tenth century, Charlemagne's family had nearly vanished; his kingdom had fractured into many hostile and independent states; the title of king was claimed by the most ambitious leaders; their rebellion led to a long period of anarchy and discord, with nobles in every province disobeying their sovereign, oppressing their vassals, and engaging in endless conflicts with their peers and neighbors. Their private wars destabilized the government and fueled the warrior spirit of the nation. In modern Europe's system, military power is, at least in practice, held by five or six powerful rulers; their actions are carried out on distant fronts by a class of people who dedicate their lives to military training: the rest of the country enjoys a sense of peace amid war, only feeling the impact through changes in public taxes. During the turmoil of the tenth and eleventh centuries, every peasant was a soldier, and every village was fortified; each forest or valley became a site of violence and looting, and the lords of each castle were forced to act like princes and warriors. They relied confidently on their own strength and strategy for their family's safety, the protection of their lands, and the revenge of their grievances; and, like larger conquerors, they often crossed the line of justifiable defense. The challenges of danger and the need for resolve strengthened their minds and bodies: the same spirit that refused to abandon a friend or forgive an enemy; instead of resting under the protection of a magistrate, they defiantly rejected the authority of the law. In the era of feudal chaos, tools of farming and craftsmanship became weapons of violence: the peaceful activities of civil and church society were abolished or corrupted; and the bishop who traded his mitre for a helmet was more compelled by the customs of the time than by the obligations of his position.

The love of freedom and of arms was felt, with conscious pride, by the Franks themselves, and is observed by the Greeks with some degree of amazement and terror. "The Franks," says the emperor Constantine, "are bold and valiant to the verge of temerity; and their dauntless spirit is supported by the contempt of danger and death. In the field and in close onset, they press to the front, and rush headlong against the enemy, without deigning to compute either his numbers or their own. Their ranks are formed by the firm connections of consanguinity and friendship; and their martial deeds are prompted by the desire of saving or revenging their dearest companions. In their eyes, a retreat is a shameful flight; and flight is indelible infamy." A nation endowed with such high and intrepid spirit, must have been secure of victory if these advantages had not been counter-balanced by many weighty defects. The decay of their naval power left the Greeks and Saracens in possession of the sea, for every purpose of annoyance and supply. In the age which preceded the institution of knighthood, the Franks were rude and unskilful in the service of cavalry; and in all perilous emergencies, their warriors were so conscious of their ignorance, that they chose to dismount from their horses and fight on foot. Unpractised in the use of pikes, or of missile weapons, they were encumbered by the length of their swords, the weight of their armor, the magnitude of their shields, and, if I may repeat the satire of the meagre Greeks, by their unwieldy intemperance. Their independent spirit disdained the yoke of subordination, and abandoned the standard of their chief, if he attempted to keep the field beyond the term of their stipulation or service. On all sides they were open to the snares of an enemy less brave but more artful than themselves. They might be bribed, for the Barbarians were venal; or surprised in the night, for they neglected the precautions of a close encampment or vigilant sentinels. The fatigues of a summer's campaign exhausted their strength and patience, and they sunk in despair if their voracious appetite was disappointed of a plentiful supply of wine and of food. This general character of the Franks was marked with some national and local shades, which I should ascribe to accident rather than to climate, but which were visible both to natives and to foreigners. An ambassador of the great Otho declared, in the palace of Constantinople, that the Saxons could dispute with swords better than with pens, and that they preferred inevitable death to the dishonor of turning their backs to an enemy. It was the glory of the nobles of France, that, in their humble dwellings, war and rapine were the only pleasure, the sole occupation, of their lives. They affected to deride the palaces, the banquets, the polished manner of the Italians, who in the estimate of the Greeks themselves had degenerated from the liberty and valor of the ancient Lombards.

The Franks had a deep love for freedom and combat, and they took pride in it, which the Greeks observed with a mix of amazement and fear. "The Franks," says Emperor Constantine, "are bold and brave to the point of recklessness; their fearless spirit comes from a disregard for danger and death. In battle, they lead the charge and rush at the enemy without bothering to count either their numbers or the enemy's. Their ranks are formed by strong bonds of family and friendship, and their heroic actions are driven by the desire to protect or avenge their closest companions. To them, retreat is a disgrace; fleeing is a shameful mark of infamy." A nation with such a spirited and fearless attitude should have been assured of victory, if not for many serious shortcomings. The decline of their naval strength left the Greeks and Saracens in control of the sea for all purposes of disruption and supply. In the period before knighthood emerged, the Franks were rough and inexperienced in cavalry tactics, and in critical situations, their warriors were so aware of their lack of skills that they chose to dismount and fight on foot. Unpracticed with pikes or projectile weapons, they struggled with the length of their swords, the weight of their armor, the size of their shields, and, to echo the jest of the skinny Greeks, their clumsy excess. Their independent spirit rejected the burden of following orders and would abandon their leader’s standard if he tried to keep them in the field beyond the limits of their agreement or service. They were vulnerable to the traps of a less brave but more cunning enemy. They could be bribed, as the Barbarians were easily swayed; or they could be surprised at night, since they neglected to secure their camp or maintain vigilant sentries. The strains of a summer campaign drained their strength and patience, and they fell into despair if their greedy appetites were not satisfied with plenty of food and wine. This general character of the Franks had some national and regional variations, which I would attribute more to chance than to climate, and these were noticeable to both locals and outsiders. An ambassador from the great Otto stated in the palace of Constantinople that the Saxons were better at fighting with swords than at writing, and that they would rather face certain death than the shame of retreating from an enemy. It was a point of pride among the French nobles that, in their modest homes, warfare and raiding were their only pleasures and the sole focus of their lives. They pretended to mock the opulence, feasts, and refined manners of the Italians, who, according to the Greeks, had lost the freedom and courage of the ancient Lombards.

By the well-known edict of Caracalla, his subjects, from Britain to Egypt, were entitled to the name and privileges of Romans, and their national sovereign might fix his occasional or permanent residence in any province of their common country. In the division of the East and West, an ideal unity was scrupulously observed, and in their titles, laws, and statutes, the successors of Arcadius and Honorius announced themselves as the inseparable colleagues of the same office, as the joint sovereigns of the Roman world and city, which were bounded by the same limits. After the fall of the Western monarchy, the majesty of the purple resided solely in the princes of Constantinople; and of these, Justinian was the first who, after a divorce of sixty years, regained the dominion of ancient Rome, and asserted, by the right of conquest, the august title of Emperor of the Romans. A motive of vanity or discontent solicited one of his successors, Constans the Second, to abandon the Thracian Bosphorus, and to restore the pristine honors of the Tyber: an extravagant project, (exclaims the malicious Byzantine,) as if he had despoiled a beautiful and blooming virgin, to enrich, or rather to expose, the deformity of a wrinkled and decrepit matron. But the sword of the Lombards opposed his settlement in Italy: he entered Rome not as a conqueror, but as a fugitive, and, after a visit of twelve days, he pillaged, and forever deserted, the ancient capital of the world. The final revolt and separation of Italy was accomplished about two centuries after the conquests of Justinian, and from his reign we may date the gradual oblivion of the Latin tongue. That legislator had composed his Institutes, his Code, and his Pandects, in a language which he celebrates as the proper and public style of the Roman government, the consecrated idiom of the palace and senate of Constantinople, of the campus and tribunals of the East. But this foreign dialect was unknown to the people and soldiers of the Asiatic provinces, it was imperfectly understood by the greater part of the interpreters of the laws and the ministers of the state. After a short conflict, nature and habit prevailed over the obsolete institutions of human power: for the general benefit of his subjects, Justinian promulgated his novels in the two languages: the several parts of his voluminous jurisprudence were successively translated; the original was forgotten, the version was studied, and the Greek, whose intrinsic merit deserved indeed the preference, obtained a legal, as well as popular establishment in the Byzantine monarchy. The birth and residence of succeeding princes estranged them from the Roman idiom: Tiberius by the Arabs, and Maurice by the Italians, are distinguished as the first of the Greek Cæsars, as the founders of a new dynasty and empire: the silent revolution was accomplished before the death of Heraclius; and the ruins of the Latin speech were darkly preserved in the terms of jurisprudence and the acclamations of the palace. After the restoration of the Western empire by Charlemagne and the Othos, the names of Franks and Latins acquired an equal signification and extent; and these haughty Barbarians asserted, with some justice, their superior claim to the language and dominion of Rome. They insulted the alien of the East who had renounced the dress and idiom of Romans; and their reasonable practice will justify the frequent appellation of Greeks. But this contemptuous appellation was indignantly rejected by the prince and people to whom it was applied. Whatsoever changes had been introduced by the lapse of ages, they alleged a lineal and unbroken succession from Augustus and Constantine; and, in the lowest period of degeneracy and decay, the name of Romans adhered to the last fragments of the empire of Constantinople.

By the famous decree of Caracalla, his subjects, from Britain to Egypt, were granted the title and privileges of Romans, and their national ruler could choose to live temporarily or permanently in any province of their shared country. In the division of the East and West, an ideal unity was carefully maintained, and in their titles, laws, and statutes, the successors of Arcadius and Honorius presented themselves as inseparable partners of the same office, as joint rulers of the Roman world and city, which had the same boundaries. After the fall of the Western monarchy, the majesty of the purple was held solely by the princes of Constantinople; of these, Justinian was the first to regain control of ancient Rome after a separation of sixty years, asserting, through conquest, the prestigious title of Emperor of the Romans. A motive of vanity or dissatisfaction led one of his successors, Constans the Second, to leave the Thracian Bosphorus and restore the former honors of the Tiber: an extravagant project, as the spiteful Byzantine claimed, as if he had robbed a beautiful and blooming virgin, to enrich, or rather to expose, the ugliness of a wrinkled and decrepit matron. However, the sword of the Lombards blocked his settlement in Italy: he entered Rome not as a conqueror, but as a fugitive, and after a twelve-day visit, he plundered and abandoned the ancient capital of the world for good. The final revolt and separation of Italy occurred about two centuries after Justinian's conquests, and from his reign, we can date the gradual loss of the Latin language. That legislator had written his Institutes, his Code, and his Pandects in a language he praised as the proper and public style of Roman government, the established idiom of the palace and senate of Constantinople, of the forums and courts of the East. But this foreign language was unfamiliar to the people and soldiers of the Asiatic provinces, and it was poorly understood by most of the law interpreters and state ministers. After a brief struggle, nature and habit triumphed over the outdated institutions of human power: for the general benefit of his subjects, Justinian published his new laws in two languages: the various sections of his extensive body of law were gradually translated; the original was forgotten, the translation was studied, and Greek, which deservedly had its own merits, gained legal and popular status in the Byzantine monarchy. The birth and reign of the following princes distanced them from the Roman language: Tiberius by the Arabs, and Maurice by the Italians, are known as the first of the Greek Caesars, as founders of a new dynasty and empire: the quiet shift had taken place before Heraclius died; and the remnants of the Latin language were only dimly preserved in legal terms and in the praises of the palace. After the revival of the Western empire by Charlemagne and the Othos, the names of Franks and Latins gained similar meaning and scope; and these proud Barbarians, with some justification, claimed their superiority over the language and dominion of Rome. They mocked the Eastern outsiders who had abandoned the attire and language of Romans; and their reasonable approach will account for the frequent use of the term Greeks. But this derogatory label was fiercely rejected by the prince and people it was directed at. Whatever changes had taken place over the years, they claimed a direct and unbroken descent from Augustus and Constantine; and, even in the lowest period of decline, the name of Romans clung to the last remnants of the empire of Constantinople.

While the government of the East was transacted in Latin, the Greek was the language of literature and philosophy; nor could the masters of this rich and perfect idiom be tempted to envy the borrowed learning and imitative taste of their Roman disciples. After the fall of Paganism, the loss of Syria and Egypt, and the extinction of the schools of Alexandria and Athens, the studies of the Greeks insensibly retired to some regular monasteries, and above all, to the royal college of Constantinople, which was burnt in the reign of Leo the Isaurian. In the pompous style of the age, the president of that foundation was named the Sun of Science: his twelve associates, the professors in the different arts and faculties, were the twelve signs of the zodiac; a library of thirty-six thousand five hundred volumes was open to their inquiries; and they could show an ancient manuscript of Homer, on a roll of parchment one hundred and twenty feet in length, the intestines, as it was fabled, of a prodigious serpent. But the seventh and eight centuries were a period of discord and darkness: the library was burnt, the college was abolished, the Iconoclasts are represented as the foes of antiquity; and a savage ignorance and contempt of letters has disgraced the princes of the Heraclean and Isaurian dynasties.

While the government of the East used Latin, Greek was the language of literature and philosophy; the masters of this rich and refined language could not be tempted to envy the borrowed knowledge and imitative taste of their Roman students. After the decline of Paganism, the loss of Syria and Egypt, and the closing of the schools of Alexandria and Athens, Greek studies gradually moved to a few established monasteries, especially to the royal college of Constantinople, which was destroyed during the reign of Leo the Isaurian. In the elaborate style of the time, the head of that institution was called the Sun of Science; his twelve colleagues, the professors in various arts and disciplines, were referred to as the twelve signs of the zodiac; a library with thirty-six thousand five hundred volumes was available for their research; and they could display an ancient manuscript of Homer, written on a roll of parchment one hundred and twenty feet long, supposedly made from the intestines of a monstrous serpent. However, the seventh and eighth centuries were a time of conflict and darkness: the library was burned, the college was shut down, the Iconoclasts were seen as enemies of the past; and a brutal ignorance and disdain for learning tarnished the reputation of the rulers from the Heraclean and Isaurian dynasties.

In the ninth century we trace the first dawnings of the restoration of science. After the fanaticism of the Arabs had subsided, the caliphs aspired to conquer the arts, rather than the provinces, of the empire: their liberal curiosity rekindled the emulation of the Greeks, brushed away the dust from their ancient libraries, and taught them to know and reward the philosophers, whose labors had been hitherto repaid by the pleasure of study and the pursuit of truth. The Cæsar Bardas, the uncle of Michael the Third, was the generous protector of letters, a title which alone has preserved his memory and excused his ambition. A particle of the treasures of his nephew was sometimes diverted from the indulgence of vice and folly; a school was opened in the palace of Magnaura; and the presence of Bardas excited the emulation of the masters and students. At their head was the philosopher Leo, archbishop of Thessalonica: his profound skill in astronomy and the mathematics was admired by the strangers of the East; and this occult science was magnified by vulgar credulity, which modestly supposes that all knowledge superior to its own must be the effect of inspiration or magic. At the pressing entreaty of the Cæsar, his friend, the celebrated Photius, renounced the freedom of a secular and studious life, ascended the patriarchal throne, and was alternately excommunicated and absolved by the synods of the East and West. By the confession even of priestly hatred, no art or science, except poetry, was foreign to this universal scholar, who was deep in thought, indefatigable in reading, and eloquent in diction. Whilst he exercised the office of protospathaire or captain of the guards, Photius was sent ambassador to the caliph of Bagdad. The tedious hours of exile, perhaps of confinement, were beguiled by the hasty composition of his Library, a living monument of erudition and criticism. Two hundred and fourscore writers, historians, orators, philosophers, theologians, are reviewed without any regular method: he abridges their narrative or doctrine, appreciates their style and character, and judges even the fathers of the church with a discreet freedom, which often breaks through the superstition of the times. The emperor Basil, who lamented the defects of his own education, intrusted to the care of Photius his son and successor, Leo the philosopher; and the reign of that prince and of his son Constantine Porphyrogenitus forms one of the most prosperous æras of the Byzantine literature. By their munificence the treasures of antiquity were deposited in the Imperial library; by their pens, or those of their associates, they were imparted in such extracts and abridgments as might amuse the curiosity, without oppressing the indolence, of the public. Besides the Basilics, or code of laws, the arts of husbandry and war, of feeding or destroying the human species, were propagated with equal diligence; and the history of Greece and Rome was digested into fifty-three heads or titles, of which two only (of embassies, and of virtues and vices) have escaped the injuries of time. In every station, the reader might contemplate the image of the past world, apply the lesson or warning of each page, and learn to admire, perhaps to imitate, the examples of a brighter period. I shall not expatiate on the works of the Byzantine Greeks, who, by the assiduous study of the ancients, have deserved, in some measure, the remembrance and gratitude of the moderns. The scholars of the present age may still enjoy the benefit of the philosophical commonplace book of Stobæus, the grammatical and historical lexicon of Suidas, the Chiliads of Tzetzes, which comprise six hundred narratives in twelve thousand verses, and the commentaries on Homer of Eustathius, archbishop of Thessalonica, who, from his horn of plenty, has poured the names and authorities of four hundred writers. From these originals, and from the numerous tribe of scholiasts and critics, some estimate may be formed of the literary wealth of the twelfth century: Constantinople was enlightened by the genius of Homer and Demosthenes, of Aristotle and Plato: and in the enjoyment or neglect of our present riches, we must envy the generation that could still peruse the history of Theopompus, the orations of Hyperides, the comedies of Menander, and the odes of Alcæus and Sappho. The frequent labor of illustration attests not only the existence, but the popularity, of the Grecian classics: the general knowledge of the age may be deduced from the example of two learned females, the empress Eudocia, and the princess Anna Comnena, who cultivated, in the purple, the arts of rhetoric and philosophy. The vulgar dialect of the city was gross and barbarous: a more correct and elaborate style distinguished the discourse, or at least the compositions, of the church and palace, which sometimes affected to copy the purity of the Attic models.

In the ninth century, we see the first signs of science making a comeback. After the fervor of the Arabs faded, the caliphs aimed to master the arts instead of just expanding their territories: their open curiosity reignited the inspiration of the Greeks, cleared the dust from their ancient libraries, and encouraged them to recognize and reward philosophers, whose efforts had only been repaid by the joy of learning and the quest for truth. Cæsar Bardas, the uncle of Michael the Third, was a generous supporter of literature—a title that has kept his memory alive and justified his ambitions. Occasionally, some of his nephew's wealth was redirected away from indulgence and folly; a school was founded in the palace of Magnaura, and Bardas's presence sparked competition among the teachers and students. Leading the group was the philosopher Leo, archbishop of Thessalonica: his deep knowledge of astronomy and mathematics earned admiration from Eastern visitors; and this complex knowledge was often inflated by common belief, which modestly assumed that all knowledge greater than its own was a result of inspiration or magic. At the persistent request of Cæsar, his friend, the renowned Photius gave up his independent, scholarly life, took the patriarchal throne, and was alternately excommunicated and forgiven by the church councils of the East and West. Even those who hated him acknowledged that no field of art or science, except poetry, was beyond this well-rounded scholar, who was deeply thoughtful, tireless in reading, and eloquent in expression. While serving as protospathaire, or captain of the guards, Photius was sent as an ambassador to the caliph of Baghdad. The tedious hours of exile, possibly under confinement, were filled by the quick writing of his Library, a living testament of knowledge and critique. He reviewed two hundred and eighty writers—historians, orators, philosophers, theologians—without any specific order: he summarized their narratives or teachings, assessed their style and character, and even evaluated the church fathers with a thoughtful freedom that often broke through the superstitions of the time. Emperor Basil, who regretted the shortcomings in his own education, entrusted his son and successor Leo the philosopher to Photius's care; and the reign of that prince and his son Constantine Porphyrogenitus marks one of the most prosperous periods in Byzantine literature. Through their generosity, treasures of antiquity were stored in the Imperial library; through their writings or those of their colleagues, this knowledge was shared in such summaries and extracts that could satisfy curiosity without overwhelming the public's laziness. In addition to the Basilics, or code of laws, the skills of farming and warfare, and the means of sustaining or harming humanity, were promoted with equal care; the history of Greece and Rome was organized into fifty-three sections or titles, of which only two (on embassies and on virtues and vices) have survived the ravages of time. In every position, readers could reflect on the past, apply the lessons or warnings from each page, and learn to admire, perhaps even emulate, the examples from a brighter era. I won’t go on at length about the work of the Byzantine Greeks, who, through their diligent study of the ancients, deserve some recognition and gratitude from modern scholars. Today’s scholars can still benefit from the philosophical commonplaces of Stobæus, the grammatical and historical lexicon of Suidas, the Chiliads by Tzetzes, which contain six hundred stories in twelve thousand lines, and Eustathius's commentaries on Homer, who, from his abundant knowledge, cited four hundred authors. From these original works and the many scholars and critics, we can gauge the literary wealth of the twelfth century: Constantinople was illuminated by the brilliance of Homer, Demosthenes, Aristotle, and Plato; and as we enjoy or overlook our current riches, we must envy the generation that could still read Theopompus's history, Hyperides's speeches, Menander's comedies, and the odes by Alcæus and Sappho. The frequent efforts to illustrate these works not only prove their existence but also their popularity: the general knowledge of the era can be inferred from the example of two educated women, Empress Eudocia and Princess Anna Comnena, who nurtured the arts of rhetoric and philosophy in the royal court. The common speech of the city was crude and rough: a more polished and sophisticated style characterized the discourse, or at least the writings, of the church and palace, which sometimes attempted to emulate the purity of the Attic models.

In our modern education, the painful though necessary attainment of two languages, which are no longer living, may consume the time and damp the ardor of the youthful student. The poets and orators were long imprisoned in the barbarous dialects of our Western ancestors, devoid of harmony or grace; and their genius, without precept or example, was abandoned to the rule and native powers of their judgment and fancy. But the Greeks of Constantinople, after purging away the impurities of their vulgar speech, acquired the free use of their ancient language, the most happy composition of human art, and a familiar knowledge of the sublime masters who had pleased or instructed the first of nations. But these advantages only tend to aggravate the reproach and shame of a degenerate people. They held in their lifeless hands the riches of their fathers, without inheriting the spirit which had created and improved that sacred patrimony: they read, they praised, they compiled, but their languid souls seemed alike incapable of thought and action. In the revolution of ten centuries, not a single discovery was made to exalt the dignity or promote the happiness of mankind. Not a single idea has been added to the speculative systems of antiquity, and a succession of patient disciples became in their turn the dogmatic teachers of the next servile generation. Not a single composition of history, philosophy, or literature, has been saved from oblivion by the intrinsic beauties of style or sentiment, of original fancy, or even of successful imitation. In prose, the least offensive of the Byzantine writers are absolved from censure by their naked and unpresuming simplicity: but the orators, most eloquent in their own conceit, are the farthest removed from the models whom they affect to emulate. In every page our taste and reason are wounded by the choice of gigantic and obsolete words, a stiff and intricate phraseology, the discord of images, the childish play of false or unseasonable ornament, and the painful attempt to elevate themselves, to astonish the reader, and to involve a trivial meaning in the smoke of obscurity and exaggeration. Their prose is soaring to the vicious affectation of poetry: their poetry is sinking below the flatness and insipidity of prose. The tragic, epic, and lyric muses, were silent and inglorious: the bards of Constantinople seldom rose above a riddle or epigram, a panegyric or tale; they forgot even the rules of prosody; and with the melody of Homer yet sounding in their ears, they confound all measure of feet and syllables in the impotent strains which have received the name of political or city verses. The minds of the Greek were bound in the fetters of a base and imperious superstition which extends her dominion round the circle of profane science. Their understandings were bewildered in metaphysical controversy: in the belief of visions and miracles, they had lost all principles of moral evidence, and their taste was vitiated by the homilies of the monks, an absurd medley of declamation and Scripture. Even these contemptible studies were no longer dignified by the abuse of superior talents: the leaders of the Greek church were humbly content to admire and copy the oracles of antiquity, nor did the schools of pulpit produce any rivals of the fame of Athanasius and Chrysostom.

In today’s education, the difficult but necessary task of learning two dead languages can take up valuable time and dampen the enthusiasm of young students. Poets and speakers were held back by the harsh dialects of our Western ancestors, lacking melody or elegance; their talent, without guidance or examples, was left to the whims of their judgment and imagination. However, the Greeks of Constantinople, after cleaning up the impurities of their everyday speech, gained the ability to freely use their ancient language, which was a beautiful blend of human artistry, and developed a solid understanding of the great masters who had inspired or taught the early civilizations. But these benefits only serve to highlight the shame and reproach of a declining people. They grasped in their powerless hands the treasures of their ancestors but failed to inherit the spirit that had created and enhanced that precious legacy: they read, they praised, they compiled, but their tired souls seemed unable to think or act. Over ten centuries, not a single innovation was made to elevate the dignity or improve the happiness of humanity. Not a single idea has been added to the philosophical systems of the past, and a line of diligent students became, in turn, the dogmatic teachers of the next submissive generation. No work of history, philosophy, or literature has escaped being forgotten through its intrinsic beauty of style or sentiment, original thought, or even through successful imitation. Among the Byzantine writers, the least offensive are cleared of criticism by their plain and modest simplicity: yet the orators, who are most confident in their own abilities, are the furthest from the models they claim to follow. On every page, our taste and reason are hurt by their choice of oversized and outdated words, rigid and complicated phrases, jarring images, the childish play of false or poorly chosen embellishments, and their frustrating attempts to grandstand, astonish the reader, and wrap trivial meanings in obscurity and exaggeration. Their prose aims for a burdensome imitation of poetry, while their poetry sinks below the dullness and blandness of prose. The tragic, epic, and lyric muses were silent and unremarkable: the bards of Constantinople rarely went beyond riddles or epigrams, praise songs or stories; they even forgot the rules of rhythm; and with the melody of Homer still ringing in their ears, they muddled all measures of feet and syllables in the weak verses known as political or city verses. The minds of the Greeks were shackled by a degrading and tyrannical superstition that extended its control over every domain of secular knowledge. Their understanding was confused by metaphysical debates: believing in visions and miracles, they abandoned all principles of moral reasoning, and their taste was corrupted by the sermons of the monks, a ridiculous mix of speeches and Scripture. Even these disreputable studies were no longer enhanced by abused superior talents: the leaders of the Greek church were content to simply admire and imitate the writings of ancient authorities, and the preaching schools produced no rivals to the fame of Athanasius and Chrysostom.

In all the pursuits of active and speculative life, the emulation of states and individuals is the most powerful spring of the efforts and improvements of mankind. The cities of ancient Greece were cast in the happy mixture of union and independence, which is repeated on a larger scale, but in a looser form, by the nations of modern Europe; the union of language, religion, and manners, which renders them the spectators and judges of each other's merit; the independence of government and interest, which asserts their separate freedom, and excites them to strive for preëminence in the career of glory. The situation of the Romans was less favorable; yet in the early ages of the republic, which fixed the national character, a similar emulation was kindled among the states of Latium and Italy; and in the arts and sciences, they aspired to equal or surpass their Grecian masters. The empire of the Cæsars undoubtedly checked the activity and progress of the human mind; its magnitude might indeed allow some scope for domestic competition; but when it was gradually reduced, at first to the East and at last to Greece and Constantinople, the Byzantine subjects were degraded to an abject and languid temper, the natural effect of their solitary and insulated state. From the North they were oppressed by nameless tribes of Barbarians, to whom they scarcely imparted the appellation of men. The language and religion of the more polished Arabs were an insurmountable bar to all social intercourse. The conquerors of Europe were their brethren in the Christian faith; but the speech of the Franks or Latins was unknown, their manners were rude, and they were rarely connected, in peace or war, with the successors of Heraclius. Alone in the universe, the self-satisfied pride of the Greeks was not disturbed by the comparison of foreign merit; and it is no wonder if they fainted in the race, since they had neither competitors to urge their speed, nor judges to crown their victory. The nations of Europe and Asia were mingled by the expeditions to the Holy Land; and it is under the Comnenian dynasty that a faint emulation of knowledge and military virtue was rekindled in the Byzantine empire.

In all the activities of both active and thoughtful life, the desire to compete with other states and individuals is the strongest motivation for the efforts and advancements of humanity. The cities of ancient Greece enjoyed a fortunate blend of unity and independence, similar to what we see today on a larger, yet looser, scale in modern European nations; this unity of language, faith, and customs allowed them to observe and assess each other's worth, while their governmental and individual independence claimed their distinct freedom and motivated them to strive for excellence in the pursuit of honor. The Romans had a less advantageous position; however, in the early days of the republic, which shaped their national character, a similar competitive spirit sparked among the states of Latium and Italy, and in the fields of arts and sciences, they aimed to match or outshine their Greek mentors. The reign of the Cæsars undoubtedly stifled the vigor and progress of human intellect; its vast size might have provided some room for local competition, but as it gradually diminished, first to the East and finally to Greece and Constantinople, the Byzantine inhabitants fell into a state of degradation and lethargy, a natural outcome of their isolated and solitary existence. From the North, they were overrun by unnamed barbarian tribes, who they barely considered human. The language and culture of the more refined Arabs created an unbridgeable gap for any social interaction. The conquerors of Europe shared their Christian faith; however, the language of the Franks or Latins was foreign, their customs were harsh, and they were rarely in touch, in peace or warfare, with the successors of Heraclius. Isolated in the world, the self-satisfied arrogance of the Greeks was untouched by the comparison to foreign achievements; it is not surprising that they faltered in the race, as they had no rivals to speed them on, nor judges to recognize their triumphs. The nations of Europe and Asia were brought together by the crusades to the Holy Land; and it was under the Comnenian dynasty that a faint spark of competition in knowledge and military excellence was reignited within the Byzantine Empire.





Chapter LIV: Origin And Doctrine Of The Paulicians.—Part I.

     Origin And Doctrine Of The Paulicians.—Their Persecution By
     The Greek Emperors.—Revolt In Armenia &c.—Transplantation
     Into Thrace.—Propagation In The West.—The Seeds,
     Character, And Consequences Of The Reformation.
     Origin and Beliefs of the Paulicians.—Their Persecution by
     the Greek Emperors.—Revolt in Armenia & etc.—Relocation
     to Thrace.—Spread in the West.—The Roots,
     Nature, and Effects of the Reformation.

In the profession of Christianity, the variety of national characters may be clearly distinguished. The natives of Syria and Egypt abandoned their lives to lazy and contemplative devotion: Rome again aspired to the dominion of the world; and the wit of the lively and loquacious Greeks was consumed in the disputes of metaphysical theology. The incomprehensible mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation, instead of commanding their silent submission, were agitated in vehement and subtile controversies, which enlarged their faith at the expense, perhaps, of their charity and reason. From the council of Nice to the end of the seventh century, the peace and unity of the church was invaded by these spiritual wars; and so deeply did they affect the decline and fall of the empire, that the historian has too often been compelled to attend the synods, to explore the creeds, and to enumerate the sects, of this busy period of ecclesiastical annals. From the beginning of the eighth century to the last ages of the Byzantine empire, the sound of controversy was seldom heard: curiosity was exhausted, zeal was fatigued, and, in the decrees of six councils, the articles of the Catholic faith had been irrevocably defined. The spirit of dispute, however vain and pernicious, requires some energy and exercise of the mental faculties; and the prostrate Greeks were content to fast, to pray, and to believe in blind obedience to the patriarch and his clergy. During a long dream of superstition, the Virgin and the Saints, their visions and miracles, their relics and images, were preached by the monks, and worshipped by the people; and the appellation of people might be extended, without injustice, to the first ranks of civil society. At an unseasonable moment, the Isaurian emperors attempted somewhat rudely to awaken their subjects: under their influence reason might obtain some proselytes, a far greater number was swayed by interest or fear; but the Eastern world embraced or deplored their visible deities, and the restoration of images was celebrated as the feast of orthodoxy. In this passive and unanimous state the ecclesiastical rulers were relieved from the toil, or deprived of the pleasure, of persecution. The Pagans had disappeared; the Jews were silent and obscure; the disputes with the Latins were rare and remote hostilities against a national enemy; and the sects of Egypt and Syria enjoyed a free toleration under the shadow of the Arabian caliphs. About the middle of the seventh century, a branch of Manichæans was selected as the victims of spiritual tyranny; their patience was at length exasperated to despair and rebellion; and their exile has scattered over the West the seeds of reformation. These important events will justify some inquiry into the doctrine and story of the Paulicians; and, as they cannot plead for themselves, our candid criticism will magnify the good, and abate or suspect the evil, that is reported by their adversaries.

In the practice of Christianity, the diverse national traits are clearly defined. The people of Syria and Egypt devoted themselves to a life of lazy contemplation, while Rome sought to dominate the world. Meanwhile, the clever and talkative Greeks got caught up in heated debates about metaphysical theology. The puzzling mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation didn’t lead to quiet acceptance but sparked intense controversies that may have expanded their faith at the expense of their charity and reason. From the Council of Nicaea to the end of the seventh century, the peace and unity of the church were disrupted by these spiritual battles. These conflicts had such a deep impact on the decline and fall of the empire that historians often felt compelled to attend the synods, examine the creeds, and list the sects from this busy period of church history. From the start of the eighth century to the later years of the Byzantine empire, disagreements were rare; curiosity had faded, enthusiasm had waned, and the articles of Catholic faith were firmly defined in the decisions of six councils. However, this spirit of debate, while often futile and harmful, required some mental effort; the subdued Greeks were content to fast, pray, and blindly obey the patriarch and his clergy. During a long period filled with superstition, the Virgin and Saints, their visions and miracles, relics, and images were promoted by monks and worshipped by the people, with this term 'people' even extending, without injustice, to the upper echelons of society. At a poorly timed moment, the Isaurian emperors tried to awaken their subjects, and while reason might have won a few followers, many more were influenced by self-interest or fear; yet, the Eastern world either embraced or mourned their visible deities, and the restoration of images was celebrated as the feast of orthodoxy. In this passive and unified state, church leaders were either spared the burden or stripped of the enjoyment of persecution. Pagans had vanished, Jews remained quiet and obscure, disputes with the Latins were seldom and more like distant conflicts with a national foe, and the sects in Egypt and Syria enjoyed freedom under the Arabian caliphs. In the middle of the seventh century, a faction of Manichaeans was picked as the targets of spiritual oppression; their endurance eventually turned to despair and rebellion, and their exile spread the seeds of reform in the West. These significant events warrant a closer look at the beliefs and history of the Paulicians, and since they cannot defend themselves, our fair critique will highlight the good and diminish or question the evil attributed to them by their opponents.

The Gnostics, who had distracted the infancy, were oppressed by the greatness and authority, of the church. Instead of emulating or surpassing the wealth, learning, and numbers of the Catholics, their obscure remnant was driven from the capitals of the East and West, and confined to the villages and mountains along the borders of the Euphrates. Some vestige of the Marcionites may be detected in the fifth century; but the numerous sects were finally lost in the odious name of the Manichæans; and these heretics, who presumed to reconcile the doctrines of Zoroaster and Christ, were pursued by the two religions with equal and unrelenting hatred. Under the grandson of Heraclius, in the neighborhood of Samosata, more famous for the birth of Lucian than for the title of a Syrian kingdom, a reformer arose, esteemed by the Paulicians as the chosen messenger of truth. In his humble dwelling of Mananalis, Constantine entertained a deacon, who returned from Syrian captivity, and received the inestimable gift of the New Testament, which was already concealed from the vulgar by the prudence of the Greek, and perhaps of the Gnostic, clergy. These books became the measure of his studies and the rule of his faith; and the Catholics, who dispute his interpretation, acknowledge that his text was genuine and sincere. But he attached himself with peculiar devotion to the writings and character of St. Paul: the name of the Paulicians is derived by their enemies from some unknown and domestic teacher; but I am confident that they gloried in their affinity to the apostle of the Gentiles. His disciples, Titus, Timothy, Sylvanus, Tychicus, were represented by Constantine and his fellow-laborers: the names of the apostolic churches were applied to the congregations which they assembled in Armenia and Cappadocia; and this innocent allegory revived the example and memory of the first ages. In the Gospel, and the Epistles of St. Paul, his faithful follower investigated the Creed of primitive Christianity; and, whatever might be the success, a Protestant reader will applaud the spirit, of the inquiry. But if the Scriptures of the Paulicians were pure, they were not perfect. Their founders rejected the two Epistles of St. Peter, the apostle of the circumcision, whose dispute with their favorite for the observance of the law could not easily be forgiven. They agreed with their Gnostic brethren in the universal contempt for the Old Testament, the books of Moses and the prophets, which have been consecrated by the decrees of the Catholic church. With equal boldness, and doubtless with more reason, Constantine, the new Sylvanus, disclaimed the visions, which, in so many bulky and splendid volumes, had been published by the Oriental sects; the fabulous productions of the Hebrew patriarchs and the sages of the East; the spurious gospels, epistles, and acts, which in the first age had overwhelmed the orthodox code; the theology of Manes, and the authors of the kindred heresies; and the thirty generations, or æons, which had been created by the fruitful fancy of Valentine. The Paulicians sincerely condemned the memory and opinions of the Manichæan sect, and complained of the injustice which impressed that invidious name on the simple votaries of St. Paul and of Christ.

The Gnostics, who had unsettled the early days, were suppressed by the power and authority of the church. Instead of trying to match or outdo the wealth, knowledge, and numbers of the Catholics, their small remnant was forced out of the cities of the East and West, and confined to villages and mountains along the Euphrates River. Some trace of the Marcionites can still be seen in the fifth century; however, the various sects ultimately disappeared under the negative label of the Manichæans. These heretics, who tried to blend the teachings of Zoroaster and Christ, were pursued by both religions with equal and relentless animosity. During the time of Heraclius's grandson, near Samosata—better known for being the birthplace of Lucian than for being a Syrian kingdom—a reformer emerged, regarded by the Paulicians as the chosen messenger of truth. In his modest home in Mananalis, Constantine welcomed a deacon back from captivity in Syria, who brought with him the invaluable New Testament, which had already been kept hidden from the general public by the caution of the Greek and possibly the Gnostic clergy. These texts became the foundation of his studies and the guide for his faith, and the Catholics, who disagree with his interpretation, recognize that his text was authentic and sincere. However, he was particularly devoted to the writings and character of St. Paul: the name of the Paulicians is said by their opponents to come from some unknown domestic teacher; but I believe they took pride in their connection to the apostle of the Gentiles. His disciples, Titus, Timothy, Sylvanus, and Tychicus, were represented by Constantine and his colleagues: the names of the apostolic churches were used for the communities they gathered in Armenia and Cappadocia, and this innocent allegory revived the example and memory of the early days. In the Gospel and the Epistles of St. Paul, his faithful follower explored the creed of early Christianity; and regardless of the outcome, a Protestant reader will appreciate the spirit of this inquiry. But while the Scriptures of the Paulicians were pure, they were not perfect. Their founders rejected the two Epistles of St. Peter, the apostle for the circumcised, whose disagreement with their favorite regarding the law could hardly be forgiven. They shared their Gnostic brethren's universal disdain for the Old Testament, the books of Moses and the prophets, which have been sanctified by the decrees of the Catholic Church. With equal boldness, and likely with more justification, Constantine, the new Sylvanus, dismissed the visions written in the many extensive and impressive volumes published by the Eastern sects; the mythical creations of the Hebrew patriarchs and Eastern sages; the spurious gospels, epistles, and acts that had flooded the orthodox texts in the early days; the theology of Manes, and the authors of related heresies; and the thirty generations, or æons, created by the imaginative mind of Valentine. The Paulicians genuinely condemned the memory and views of the Manichæan sect and lamented the injustice of having that undeserved name attached to the humble followers of St. Paul and Christ.

Of the ecclesiastical chain, many links had been broken by the Paulician reformers; and their liberty was enlarged, as they reduced the number of masters, at whose voice profane reason must bow to mystery and miracle. The early separation of the Gnostics had preceded the establishment of the Catholic worship; and against the gradual innovations of discipline and doctrine they were as strongly guarded by habit and aversion, as by the silence of St. Paul and the evangelists. The objects which had been transformed by the magic of superstition, appeared to the eyes of the Paulicians in their genuine and naked colors. An image made without hands was the common workmanship of a mortal artist, to whose skill alone the wood and canvas must be indebted for their merit or value. The miraculous relics were a heap of bones and ashes, destitute of life or virtue, or of any relation, perhaps, with the person to whom they were ascribed. The true and vivifying cross was a piece of sound or rotten timber, the body and blood of Christ, a loaf of bread and a cup of wine, the gifts of nature and the symbols of grace. The mother of God was degraded from her celestial honors and immaculate virginity; and the saints and angels were no longer solicited to exercise the laborious office of mediation in heaven, and ministry upon earth. In the practice, or at least in the theory, of the sacraments, the Paulicians were inclined to abolish all visible objects of worship, and the words of the gospel were, in their judgment, the baptism and communion of the faithful. They indulged a convenient latitude for the interpretation of Scripture: and as often as they were pressed by the literal sense, they could escape to the intricate mazes of figure and allegory. Their utmost diligence must have been employed to dissolve the connection between the Old and the New Testament; since they adored the latter as the oracles of God, and abhorred the former as the fabulous and absurd invention of men or dæmons. We cannot be surprised, that they should have found in the Gospel the orthodox mystery of the Trinity: but, instead of confessing the human nature and substantial sufferings of Christ, they amused their fancy with a celestial body that passed through the virgin like water through a pipe; with a fantastic crucifixion, that eluded the vain and important malice of the Jews. A creed thus simple and spiritual was not adapted to the genius of the times; and the rational Christian, who might have been contented with the light yoke and easy burden of Jesus and his apostles, was justly offended, that the Paulicians should dare to violate the unity of God, the first article of natural and revealed religion. Their belief and their trust was in the Father, of Christ, of the human soul, and of the invisible world. But they likewise held the eternity of matter; a stubborn and rebellious substance, the origin of a second principle of an active being, who has created this visible world, and exercises his temporal reign till the final consummation of death and sin. The appearances of moral and physical evil had established the two principles in the ancient philosophy and religion of the East; from whence this doctrine was transfused to the various swarms of the Gnostics. A thousand shades may be devised in the nature and character of Ahriman, from a rival god to a subordinate dæmon, from passion and frailty to pure and perfect malevolence: but, in spite of our efforts, the goodness, and the power, of Ormusd are placed at the opposite extremities of the line; and every step that approaches the one must recede in equal proportion from the other.

Of the church hierarchy, many links had been broken by the Paulician reformers; and their freedom grew as they reduced the number of masters, to whom ordinary reasoning had to submit to mystery and miracle. The early separation of the Gnostics had come before the establishment of Catholic worship; and against the gradual changes in discipline and doctrine, they were as strongly protected by habit and aversion as by the silence of St. Paul and the evangelists. The things that had been distorted by superstition appeared to the Paulicians in their true and raw form. An image made without hands was just the common creation of a human artist, whose skill alone granted value to the wood and canvas. The miraculous relics were merely a pile of bones and ashes, lacking life or virtue, or any real connection, perhaps, to the person to whom they were attributed. The true and life-giving cross was simply a piece of sound or rotten wood, and the body and blood of Christ were just a loaf of bread and a cup of wine, the gifts of nature and symbols of grace. The mother of God was stripped of her celestial honors and virginity; and the saints and angels were no longer asked to work as mediators in heaven or ministers on earth. In practice, or at least in principle, the Paulicians tended to eliminate all visible objects of worship, believing that the words of the gospel were, in their view, the baptism and communion for the faithful. They allowed a flexible interpretation of Scripture: and whenever they felt pressured by the literal meaning, they could escape into the complex ways of figures and allegories. They must have worked hard to break the connection between the Old and the New Testament; as they revered the latter as God's revelations but despised the former as the fictional and absurd creation of men or demons. It's no surprise that they found in the Gospel the orthodox mystery of the Trinity: but instead of acknowledging Christ’s human nature and real sufferings, they entertained the idea of a celestial body that passed through the virgin like water through a pipe; with a fanciful crucifixion that circumvented the futile and significant malice of the Jews. Such a simple and spiritual creed wasn’t suited to the spirit of the times; and the rational Christian, who might have been okay with the light burden of Jesus and his apostles, was rightly offended that the Paulicians dared to challenge the unity of God, the first principle of both natural and revealed religion. Their faith and trust lay in the Father, of Christ, of the human soul, and of the unseen world. But they also believed in the eternity of matter; a stubborn and rebellious substance, the source of a second principle of an active being, who created this visible world and rules over it until the final end of death and sin. The existence of moral and physical evil established the two principles in the ancient philosophy and religion of the East; from which this doctrine was carried over to the various groups of Gnostics. A thousand nuances can be attributed to the nature and character of Ahriman, from a rival god to a lesser demon, from passion and weakness to pure and perfect malevolence: but, despite our efforts, the goodness and power of Ormusd are placed at opposite ends of the spectrum; and every step closer to one must also pull away from the other.

The apostolic labors of Constantine Sylvanus soon multiplied the number of his disciples, the secret recompense of spiritual ambition. The remnant of the Gnostic sects, and especially the Manichæans of Armenia, were united under his standard; many Catholics were converted or seduced by his arguments; and he preached with success in the regions of Pontus and Cappadocia, which had long since imbibed the religion of Zoroaster. The Paulician teachers were distinguished only by their Scriptural names, by the modest title of Fellow-pilgrims, by the austerity of their lives, their zeal or knowledge, and the credit of some extraordinary gifts of the Holy Spirit. But they were incapable of desiring, or at least of obtaining, the wealth and honors of the Catholic prelacy; such anti-Christian pride they bitterly censured; and even the rank of elders or presbyters was condemned as an institution of the Jewish synagogue. The new sect was loosely spread over the provinces of Asia Minor to the westward of the Euphrates; six of their principal congregations represented the churches to which St. Paul had addressed his epistles; and their founder chose his residence in the neighborhood of Colonia, in the same district of Pontus which had been celebrated by the altars of Bellona and the miracles of Gregory. After a mission of twenty-seven years, Sylvanus, who had retired from the tolerating government of the Arabs, fell a sacrifice to Roman persecution. The laws of the pious emperors, which seldom touched the lives of less odious heretics, proscribed without mercy or disguise the tenets, the books, and the persons of the Montanists and Manichæans: the books were delivered to the flames; and all who should presume to secrete such writings, or to profess such opinions, were devoted to an ignominious death. A Greek minister, armed with legal and military powers, appeared at Colonia to strike the shepherd, and to reclaim, if possible, the lost sheep. By a refinement of cruelty, Simeon placed the unfortunate Sylvanus before a line of his disciples, who were commanded, as the price of their pardon and the proof of their repentance, to massacre their spiritual father. They turned aside from the impious office; the stones dropped from their filial hands, and of the whole number, only one executioner could be found, a new David, as he is styled by the Catholics, who boldly overthrew the giant of heresy. This apostate (Justin was his name) again deceived and betrayed his unsuspecting brethren, and a new conformity to the acts of St. Paul may be found in the conversion of Simeon: like the apostle, he embraced the doctrine which he had been sent to persecute, renounced his honors and fortunes, and required among the Paulicians the fame of a missionary and a martyr. They were not ambitious of martyrdom, but in a calamitous period of one hundred and fifty years, their patience sustained whatever zeal could inflict; and power was insufficient to eradicate the obstinate vegetation of fanaticism and reason. From the blood and ashes of the first victims, a succession of teachers and congregations repeatedly arose: amidst their foreign hostilities, they found leisure for domestic quarrels: they preached, they disputed, they suffered; and the virtues, the apparent virtues, of Sergius, in a pilgrimage of thirty-three years, are reluctantly confessed by the orthodox historians. The native cruelty of Justinian the Second was stimulated by a pious cause; and he vainly hoped to extinguish, in a single conflagration, the name and memory of the Paulicians. By their primitive simplicity, their abhorrence of popular superstition, the Iconoclast princes might have been reconciled to some erroneous doctrines; but they themselves were exposed to the calumnies of the monks, and they chose to be the tyrants, lest they should be accused as the accomplices, of the Manichæans. Such a reproach has sullied the clemency of Nicephorus, who relaxed in their favor the severity of the penal statutes, nor will his character sustain the honor of a more liberal motive. The feeble Michael the First, the rigid Leo the Armenian, were foremost in the race of persecution; but the prize must doubtless be adjudged to the sanguinary devotion of Theodora, who restored the images to the Oriental church. Her inquisitors explored the cities and mountains of the Lesser Asia, and the flatterers of the empress have affirmed that, in a short reign, one hundred thousand Paulicians were extirpated by the sword, the gibbet, or the flames. Her guilt or merit has perhaps been stretched beyond the measure of truth: but if the account be allowed, it must be presumed that many simple Iconoclasts were punished under a more odious name; and that some who were driven from the church, unwillingly took refuge in the bosom of heresy.

The missionary work of Constantine Sylvanus quickly increased the number of his followers, a hidden reward of spiritual ambition. The remnants of the Gnostic sects, especially the Manichaeans from Armenia, rallied under his banner; many Catholics were converted or swayed by his arguments; and he preached effectively in the areas of Pontus and Cappadocia, which had long embraced the religion of Zoroaster. The Paulician teachers were recognized only by their Scriptural names, the humble title of Fellow-pilgrims, their strict lifestyles, their dedication or knowledge, and the reputation for some extraordinary gifts of the Holy Spirit. However, they did not aspire to, or at least could not attain, the wealth and honors of the Catholic clergy; they strongly criticized such anti-Christian pride; and even the rank of elders or presbyters was condemned as a Jewish synagogue institution. The new sect was loosely spread across the provinces of Asia Minor west of the Euphrates; six of their main congregations mirrored the churches to which St. Paul had written his letters; and their founder made his home near Colonia, in the same region of Pontus that was famous for the altars of Bellona and the miracles of Gregory. After twenty-seven years of mission work, Sylvanus, who had withdrawn from the lenient rule of the Arabs, became a victim of Roman persecution. The laws of the devout emperors, which rarely affected the lives of less notorious heretics, ruthlessly banned the beliefs, books, and people of the Montanists and Manichaeans: the books were consigned to the flames; and anyone who dared to hide such writings or profess such beliefs was condemned to a shameful death. A Greek minister, vested with legal and military authority, came to Colonia to strike down the shepherd and, if possible, reclaim the lost sheep. In a cruel twist, Simeon forced the unfortunate Sylvanus to stand before his disciples, who were ordered to kill their spiritual father as the price of their forgiveness and proof of repentance. They turned away from this impious task; the stones fell from their hands, and out of the entire group, only one executioner could be found, a new David, as the Catholics call him, who boldly defeated the giant of heresy. This traitor (his name was Justin) deceived and betrayed his unsuspecting brethren, and a new parallel to the actions of St. Paul emerges in the conversion of Simeon: like the apostle, he accepted the doctrine he had been sent to persecute, gave up his honors and wealth, and sought among the Paulicians the renown of a missionary and martyr. They did not seek martyrdom, but in a troubled period lasting one hundred and fifty years, their patience endured whatever zeal could inflict; and power was insufficient to eliminate the stubborn presence of fanaticism and reason. From the blood and ashes of the first victims, a succession of teachers and congregations repeatedly arose: amid external conflicts, they found time for internal disputes: they preached, they argued, they suffered; and the virtues, or apparent virtues, of Sergius, during his pilgrimage of thirty-three years, are reluctantly acknowledged by orthodox historians. The inherent cruelty of Justinian the Second was amplified by a pious cause; and he foolishly hoped to eradicate the name and memory of the Paulicians in a single fire. With their primitive simplicity and their disdain for popular superstition, the Iconoclast princes might have reconciled with some erroneous beliefs; but they were themselves subjected to the slanders of the monks, and they chose to act as tyrants rather than be accused as accomplices of the Manichaeans. Such a accusation tarnished the clemency of Nicephorus, who softened the strictness of the penal laws against them, nor can his character maintain the reputation of a more generous motive. The weak Michael the First and the strict Leo the Armenian were at the forefront of persecution; but the credit must surely go to the bloodthirsty zeal of Theodora, who reinstated the images in the Eastern church. Her inquisitors scoured the cities and mountains of Lesser Asia, and the empress's sycophants claimed that, in her brief reign, one hundred thousand Paulicians were wiped out by the sword, the gallows, or the flames. Her guilt or merit has likely been exaggerated beyond the truth; but if the account is accepted, it must be assumed that many simple Iconoclasts were punished under a more detestable label; and that some who were expelled from the church, unwillingly took refuge in the arms of heresy.

The most furious and desperate of rebels are the sectaries of a religion long persecuted, and at length provoked. In a holy cause they are no longer susceptible of fear or remorse: the justice of their arms hardens them against the feelings of humanity; and they revenge their fathers' wrongs on the children of their tyrants. Such have been the Hussites of Bohemia and the Calvinists of France, and such, in the ninth century, were the Paulicians of Armenia and the adjacent provinces. They were first awakened to the massacre of a governor and bishop, who exercised the Imperial mandate of converting or destroying the heretics; and the deepest recesses of Mount Argæus protected their independence and revenge. A more dangerous and consuming flame was kindled by the persecution of Theodora, and the revolt of Carbeas, a valiant Paulician, who commanded the guards of the general of the East. His father had been impaled by the Catholic inquisitors; and religion, or at least nature, might justify his desertion and revenge. Five thousand of his brethren were united by the same motives; they renounced the allegiance of anti-Christian Rome; a Saracen emir introduced Carbeas to the caliph; and the commander of the faithful extended his sceptre to the implacable enemy of the Greeks. In the mountains between Siwas and Trebizond he founded or fortified the city of Tephrice, which is still occupied by a fierce or licentious people, and the neighboring hills were covered with the Paulician fugitives, who now reconciled the use of the Bible and the sword. During more than thirty years, Asia was afflicted by the calamities of foreign and domestic war; in their hostile inroads, the disciples of St. Paul were joined with those of Mahomet; and the peaceful Christians, the aged parent and tender virgin, who were delivered into barbarous servitude, might justly accuse the intolerant spirit of their sovereign. So urgent was the mischief, so intolerable the shame, that even the dissolute Michael, the son of Theodora, was compelled to march in person against the Paulicians: he was defeated under the walls of Samosata; and the Roman emperor fled before the heretics whom his mother had condemned to the flames. The Saracens fought under the same banners, but the victory was ascribed to Carbeas; and the captive generals, with more than a hundred tribunes, were either released by his avarice, or tortured by his fanaticism. The valor and ambition of Chrysocheir, his successor, embraced a wider circle of rapine and revenge. In alliance with his faithful Moslems, he boldly penetrated into the heart of Asia; the troops of the frontier and the palace were repeatedly overthrown; the edicts of persecution were answered by the pillage of Nice and Nicomedia, of Ancyra and Ephesus; nor could the apostle St. John protect from violation his city and sepulchre. The cathedral of Ephesus was turned into a stable for mules and horses; and the Paulicians vied with the Saracens in their contempt and abhorrence of images and relics. It is not unpleasing to observe the triumph of rebellion over the same despotism which had disdained the prayers of an injured people. The emperor Basil, the Macedonian, was reduced to sue for peace, to offer a ransom for the captives, and to request, in the language of moderation and charity, that Chrysocheir would spare his fellow-Christians, and content himself with a royal donative of gold and silver and silk garments. "If the emperor," replied the insolent fanatic, "be desirous of peace, let him abdicate the East, and reign without molestation in the West. If he refuse, the servants of the Lord will precipitate him from the throne." The reluctant Basil suspended the treaty, accepted the defiance, and led his army into the land of heresy, which he wasted with fire and sword. The open country of the Paulicians was exposed to the same calamities which they had inflicted; but when he had explored the strength of Tephrice, the multitude of the Barbarians, and the ample magazines of arms and provisions, he desisted with a sigh from the hopeless siege. On his return to Constantinople, he labored, by the foundation of convents and churches, to secure the aid of his celestial patrons, of Michael the archangel and the prophet Elijah; and it was his daily prayer that he might live to transpierce, with three arrows, the head of his impious adversary. Beyond his expectations, the wish was accomplished: after a successful inroad, Chrysocheir was surprised and slain in his retreat; and the rebel's head was triumphantly presented at the foot of the throne. On the reception of this welcome trophy, Basil instantly called for his bow, discharged three arrows with unerring aim, and accepted the applause of the court, who hailed the victory of the royal archer. With Chrysocheir, the glory of the Paulicians faded and withered: on the second expedition of the emperor, the impregnable Tephrice, was deserted by the heretics, who sued for mercy or escaped to the borders. The city was ruined, but the spirit of independence survived in the mountains: the Paulicians defended, above a century, their religion and liberty, infested the Roman limits, and maintained their perpetual alliance with the enemies of the empire and the gospel.

The most furious and desperate rebels are those who belong to a religion that has faced long-term persecution, and eventually, they've been pushed too far. In a holy fight, they stop feeling fear or guilt: the righteousness of their cause hardens them against basic human feelings, and they take revenge for their ancestors' wrongs against the children of their oppressors. This has been true for the Hussites in Bohemia and the Calvinists in France, and back in the ninth century, it was the same for the Paulicians in Armenia and nearby areas. They were initially stirred into action by the massacre of a governor and a bishop, who were following the Emperor's orders to convert or destroy heretics; the deep recesses of Mount Argæus protected their fight for independence and revenge. A more intense and destructive fire was ignited by the persecution instigated by Theodora and the rebellion led by Carbeas, a brave Paulician who was in charge of the guards for the Eastern general. His father had been impaled by Catholic inquisitors; his religion, or at least human nature, could justify his betrayal and desire for revenge. Five thousand of his fellow believers shared the same motives; they rejected the authority of anti-Christian Rome; a Saracen emir introduced Carbeas to the caliph, and the commander of the faithful welcomed the relentless enemy of the Greeks. In the mountains between Siwas and Trebizond, he founded or strengthened the city of Tephrice, which is still home to a fierce or unruly population, and the nearby hills were filled with Paulician refugees, who now combined the use of the Bible and the sword. For over thirty years, Asia suffered from the miseries of both foreign and internal conflicts; during their attacks, the followers of St. Paul fought alongside those of Muhammad; the peaceful Christians, the elderly and gentle mothers and daughters, who were subjected to cruel servitude, could justly blame their sovereign's intolerant attitude. The crisis was so pressing and the shame so unbearable that even the debauched Michael, the son of Theodora, was forced to lead the charge against the Paulicians personally: he was defeated outside the walls of Samosata; the Roman emperor fled before the heretics his mother had condemned to be burned alive. The Saracens fought under the same banners, but the victory went to Carbeas; the captured generals, along with over a hundred officers, were either released due to his greed or tortured by his fanaticism. The bravery and ambition of his successor, Chrysocheir, aimed for a broader scope of plunder and revenge. Teaming up with his loyal Muslims, he boldly ventured into the heart of Asia; troops at the border and within the palace were repeatedly defeated; the edicts of persecution were met with the plundering of Nice and Nicomedia, Ancyra and Ephesus; even the apostle St. John could not protect his city and tomb from desecration. The cathedral of Ephesus was transformed into a stable for mules and horses; the Paulicians competed with the Saracens in their disdain and hatred for images and relics. It is somewhat gratifying to see the rebellion triumph over the tyranny that had ignored the prayers of a wronged people. The emperor Basil, the Macedonian, was forced to plea for peace, to offer a ransom for the captives, and to request, with language of moderation and kindness, that Chrysocheir spare his fellow Christians and accept a royal gift of gold, silver, and silk garments. "If the emperor," replied the arrogant fanatic, "wants peace, let him give up the East and reign in the West without interference. If he refuses, the servants of the Lord will throw him from his throne." The hesitant Basil paused the treaty, accepted the challenge, and led his army into the land of heresy, which he ravaged with fire and sword. The open territories of the Paulicians faced the same disasters they had inflicted; but when he assessed the strength of Tephrice, the number of Barbarians, and the abundant stockpiles of weapons and supplies, he sighed and withdrew from the hopeless siege. Upon returning to Constantinople, he worked to establish monasteries and churches in order to gain support from his heavenly patrons, Michael the archangel and the prophet Elijah; he prayed daily that he might live to shoot three arrows into the head of his wicked foe. Exceeding his expectations, that wish was fulfilled: after a successful raid, Chrysocheir was caught off guard and killed while retreating; and the rebel's head was triumphantly brought to the foot of the throne. Upon receiving this welcome prize, Basil immediately called for his bow, shot three arrows with perfect accuracy, and accepted the accolades from the court, who celebrated the victory of the royal archer. With Chrysocheir’s demise, the power of the Paulicians diminished and faded: during the emperor’s second campaign, the impregnable Tephrice was abandoned by the heretics, who sought mercy or escaped to the borders. The city was devastated, but the spirit of independence lived on in the mountains: the Paulicians defended their faith and freedom for over a century, troubled the Roman borders, and maintained an ongoing alliance with the empire's and the gospel's enemies.





Chapter LIV: Origin And Doctrine Of The Paulicians.—Part II.

About the middle of the eight century, Constantine, surnamed Copronymus by the worshippers of images, had made an expedition into Armenia, and found, in the cities of Melitene and Theodosiopolis, a great number of Paulicians, his kindred heretics. As a favor, or punishment, he transplanted them from the banks of the Euphrates to Constantinople and Thrace; and by this emigration their doctrine was introduced and diffused in Europe. If the sectaries of the metropolis were soon mingled with the promiscuous mass, those of the country struck a deep root in a foreign soil. The Paulicians of Thrace resisted the storms of persecution, maintained a secret correspondence with their Armenian brethren, and gave aid and comfort to their preachers, who solicited, not without success, the infant faith of the Bulgarians. In the tenth century, they were restored and multiplied by a more powerful colony, which John Zimisces transported from the Chalybian hills to the valleys of Mount Hæmus. The Oriental clergy who would have preferred the destruction, impatiently sighed for the absence, of the Manichæans: the warlike emperor had felt and esteemed their valor: their attachment to the Saracens was pregnant with mischief; but, on the side of the Danube, against the Barbarians of Scythia, their service might be useful, and their loss would be desirable. Their exile in a distant land was softened by a free toleration: the Paulicians held the city of Philippopolis and the keys of Thrace; the Catholics were their subjects; the Jacobite emigrants their associates: they occupied a line of villages and castles in Macedonia and Epirus; and many native Bulgarians were associated to the communion of arms and heresy. As long as they were awed by power and treated with moderation, their voluntary bands were distinguished in the armies of the empire; and the courage of these dogs, ever greedy of war, ever thirsty of human blood, is noticed with astonishment, and almost with reproach, by the pusillanimous Greeks. The same spirit rendered them arrogant and contumacious: they were easily provoked by caprice or injury; and their privileges were often violated by the faithless bigotry of the government and clergy. In the midst of the Norman war, two thousand five hundred Manichæans deserted the standard of Alexius Comnenus, and retired to their native homes. He dissembled till the moment of revenge; invited the chiefs to a friendly conference; and punished the innocent and guilty by imprisonment, confiscation, and baptism. In an interval of peace, the emperor undertook the pious office of reconciling them to the church and state: his winter quarters were fixed at Philippopolis; and the thirteenth apostle, as he is styled by his pious daughter, consumed whole days and nights in theological controversy. His arguments were fortified, their obstinacy was melted, by the honors and rewards which he bestowed on the most eminent proselytes; and a new city, surrounded with gardens, enriched with immunities, and dignified with his own name, was founded by Alexius for the residence of his vulgar converts. The important station of Philippopolis was wrested from their hands; the contumacious leaders were secured in a dungeon, or banished from their country; and their lives were spared by the prudence, rather than the mercy, of an emperor, at whose command a poor and solitary heretic was burnt alive before the church of St. Sophia. But the proud hope of eradicating the prejudices of a nation was speedily overturned by the invincible zeal of the Paulicians, who ceased to dissemble or refused to obey. After the departure and death of Alexius, they soon resumed their civil and religious laws. In the beginning of the thirteenth century, their pope or primate (a manifest corruption) resided on the confines of Bulgaria, Croatia, and Dalmatia, and governed, by his vicars, the filial congregations of Italy and France. From that æra, a minute scrutiny might prolong and perpetuate the chain of tradition. At the end of the last age, the sect or colony still inhabited the valleys of Mount Hæmus, where their ignorance and poverty were more frequently tormented by the Greek clergy than by the Turkish government. The modern Paulicians have lost all memory of their origin; and their religion is disgraced by the worship of the cross, and the practice of bloody sacrifice, which some captives have imported from the wilds of Tartary.

About the middle of the eighth century, Constantine, nicknamed Copronymus by the image worshippers, launched a campaign into Armenia and discovered a large number of Paulicians, his fellow heretics, in the cities of Melitene and Theodosiopolis. As either a favor or a punishment, he relocated them from the banks of the Euphrates to Constantinople and Thrace; this migration introduced and spread their doctrine in Europe. While the members in the capital quickly mixed with the diverse population, those in rural areas took root deeply in foreign soil. The Paulicians in Thrace resisted persecution, maintained secret communication with their Armenian counterparts, and supported their preachers, who successfully promoted the fledgling faith among the Bulgarians. In the tenth century, they were bolstered by a larger group that John Zimisces brought from the Chalybian hills to the valleys of Mount Hæmus. The Eastern clergy, who would have rather seen the Manichaeans destroyed, eagerly wished for their absence; the warlike emperor had recognized and appreciated their bravery. Their alliance with the Saracens posed a threat, but their service on the Danube against the Scythian Barbarians could be beneficial, and their removal was seen as desirable. Their exile in a remote land was eased by a degree of tolerance: the Paulicians held the city of Philippopolis and controlled key areas of Thrace; the Catholics were their subjects, and Jacobite emigrants were their allies. They occupied a series of villages and fortresses in Macedonia and Epirus, and many native Bulgarians joined their ranks in arms and heresy. As long as they were respected and treated fairly, their volunteer groups were prominent in the empire's armies; the bravery of these dogs, always eager for war and bloodshed, astonished and even drew reproach from the timid Greeks. However, this same spirit made them proud and rebellious; they easily took offense at whims or grievances, and their rights were frequently violated by the untrustworthy bigotry of the government and clergy. During the Norman war, two thousand five hundred Manichaeans abandoned the banner of Alexius Comnenus and returned to their homeland. He pretended to wait for revenge, invited their leaders to a friendly meeting, and punished both the innocent and guilty with imprisonment, confiscation, and forced baptism. In a brief period of peace, the emperor sought to reconcile them with the church and state; he set up his winter quarters in Philippopolis, and the thirteenth apostle, as called by his devout daughter, spent long days and nights in theological debate. His arguments were strengthened, and their stubbornness diminished, by the honors and rewards he gave to the most prominent converts; Alexius founded a new city surrounded by gardens, blessed with privileges, and named after himself, as a residence for his common converts. The crucial city of Philippopolis was taken from them; the defiant leaders were imprisoned or exiled; and their lives were spared due to the caution, rather than the mercy, of an emperor who had ordered a lone and destitute heretic to be burned alive before the church of St. Sophia. But the proud hope of eradicating a nation's biases was quickly undone by the unyielding passion of the Paulicians, who stopped pretending and refused to conform. After the departure and death of Alexius, they quickly reinstated their civil and religious laws. By the early thirteenth century, their pope or primate (a clear corruption) lived on the borders of Bulgaria, Croatia, and Dalmatia, governing the satellite communities in Italy and France through his representatives. Since that era, a detailed investigation could extend and preserve the chain of tradition. By the end of the last century, the sect or colony still lived in the valleys of Mount Hæmus, where their ignorance and poverty were more often harassed by the Greek clergy than by the Turkish government. The modern Paulicians have lost all memory of their origins, and their faith is tainted by the veneration of the cross and the practice of bloody sacrifices, which some captives brought from the wilds of Tartary.

In the West, the first teachers of the Manichæan theology had been repulsed by the people, or suppressed by the prince. The favor and success of the Paulicians in the eleventh and twelfth centuries must be imputed to the strong, though secret, discontent which armed the most pious Christians against the church of Rome. Her avarice was oppressive, her despotism odious; less degenerate perhaps than the Greeks in the worship of saints and images, her innovations were more rapid and scandalous: she had rigorously defined and imposed the doctrine of transubstantiation: the lives of the Latin clergy were more corrupt, and the Eastern bishops might pass for the successors of the apostles, if they were compared with the lordly prelates, who wielded by turns the crosier, the sceptre, and the sword. Three different roads might introduce the Paulicians into the heart of Europe. After the conversion of Hungary, the pilgrims who visited Jerusalem might safely follow the course of the Danube: in their journey and return they passed through Philippopolis; and the sectaries, disguising their name and heresy, might accompany the French or German caravans to their respective countries. The trade and dominion of Venice pervaded the coast of the Adriatic, and the hospitable republic opened her bosom to foreigners of every climate and religion. Under the Byzantine standard, the Paulicians were often transported to the Greek provinces of Italy and Sicily: in peace and war, they freely conversed with strangers and natives, and their opinions were silently propagated in Rome, Milan, and the kingdoms beyond the Alps. It was soon discovered, that many thousand Catholics of every rank, and of either sex, had embraced the Manichæan heresy; and the flames which consumed twelve canons of Orleans was the first act and signal of persecution. The Bulgarians, a name so innocent in its origin, so odious in its application, spread their branches over the face of Europe. United in common hatred of idolatry and Rome, they were connected by a form of episcopal and presbyterian government; their various sects were discriminated by some fainter or darker shades of theology; but they generally agreed in the two principles, the contempt of the Old Testament and the denial of the body of Christ, either on the cross or in the eucharist. A confession of simple worship and blameless manners is extorted from their enemies; and so high was their standard of perfection, that the increasing congregations were divided into two classes of disciples, of those who practised, and of those who aspired. It was in the country of the Albigeois, in the southern provinces of France, that the Paulicians were most deeply implanted; and the same vicissitudes of martyrdom and revenge which had been displayed in the neighborhood of the Euphrates, were repeated in the thirteenth century on the banks of the Rhone. The laws of the Eastern emperors were revived by Frederic the Second. The insurgents of Tephrice were represented by the barons and cities of Languedoc: Pope Innocent III. surpassed the sanguinary fame of Theodora. It was in cruelty alone that her soldiers could equal the heroes of the Crusades, and the cruelty of her priests was far excelled by the founders of the Inquisition; an office more adapted to confirm, than to refute, the belief of an evil principle. The visible assemblies of the Paulicians, or Albigeois, were extirpated by fire and sword; and the bleeding remnant escaped by flight, concealment, or Catholic conformity. But the invincible spirit which they had kindled still lived and breathed in the Western world. In the state, in the church, and even in the cloister, a latent succession was preserved of the disciples of St. Paul; who protested against the tyranny of Rome, embraced the Bible as the rule of faith, and purified their creed from all the visions of the Gnostic theology. The struggles of Wickliff in England, of Huss in Bohemia, were premature and ineffectual; but the names of Zuinglius, Luther, and Calvin, are pronounced with gratitude as the deliverers of nations.

In the West, the first teachers of Manichaean theology were rejected by the people or silenced by the ruler. The popularity and success of the Paulicians in the eleventh and twelfth centuries can be attributed to the strong, though hidden, dissatisfaction that drove many devout Christians to oppose the church of Rome. Her greed was burdensome, and her tyranny was detestable; although less corrupt perhaps than the Greeks in the veneration of saints and images, her changes were quicker and more scandalous: she had strictly defined and enforced the doctrine of transubstantiation, and the conduct of the Latin clergy was more immoral. In comparison, the Eastern bishops could be seen as successors of the apostles next to the powerful prelates who alternately wielded the crosier, the scepter, and the sword. There were three main paths that could bring the Paulicians into the heart of Europe. After Hungary converted, the pilgrims who traveled to Jerusalem could safely navigate along the Danube: on their journey to and from, they passed through Philippopolis; and the believers, hiding their identity and beliefs, could join the French or German caravans back to their countries. The trade and influence of Venice spread across the Adriatic coast, and the welcoming republic embraced foreigners from all backgrounds and religions. Under the Byzantine banner, the Paulicians were frequently moved to the Greek regions of Italy and Sicily: during peacetime and wartime, they mingled freely with locals and outsiders, and their ideas quietly spread in Rome, Milan, and beyond the Alps. It was soon revealed that many thousands of Catholics from all walks of life had adopted Manichaean beliefs, and the burning of twelve canons in Orleans marked the first act of persecution. The Bulgarians, whose name started innocently but became detestable, spread across Europe. United by a shared disdain for idolatry and Rome, they were linked by a mix of episcopal and presbyterian governance; their various sects were distinguished by some subtle or more pronounced theological differences, but they generally shared the two core beliefs of disdain for the Old Testament and the rejection of the body of Christ, whether on the cross or in the Eucharist. Their enemies were forced to admit to their simple worship and blameless behavior; and their high standards of perfection led to their growing congregations being split into two classes of followers: those who practiced and those who aspired. It was in the region of the Albigeois, in the southern provinces of France, where the Paulicians took root the most deeply; and the same cycles of martyrdom and revenge seen near the Euphrates were repeated in the thirteenth century along the banks of the Rhone. The laws of the Eastern emperors were reinstated by Frederick the Second. The rebels of Tephrice were represented by the barons and cities of Languedoc: Pope Innocent III outdid the bloody reputation of Theodora. It was only in cruelty that her soldiers could match the heroes of the Crusades, and the brutality of her priests was far surpassed by the founders of the Inquisition—an office more suited to affirm than to deny the belief in evil. The visible gatherings of the Paulicians, or Albigeois, were eradicated by fire and sword; and the surviving, wounded remnants either fled, hid, or conformed to Catholicism. However, the indomitable spirit they ignited still lived and thrived in the Western world. Within the state, the church, and even the cloister, there was a hidden lineage of disciples of St. Paul who stood against the tyranny of Rome, embraced the Bible as their guide to faith, and cleansed their beliefs of all the notions from Gnostic theology. The struggles of Wycliffe in England and Huss in Bohemia were early and ineffective; but the names of Zwingli, Luther, and Calvin are spoken of with appreciation as the liberators of nations.

A philosopher, who calculates the degree of their merit and the value of their reformation, will prudently ask from what articles of faith, above or against our reason, they have enfranchised the Christians; for such enfranchisement is doubtless a benefit so far as it may be compatible with truth and piety. After a fair discussion, we shall rather be surprised by the timidity, than scandalized by the freedom, of our first reformers. With the Jews, they adopted the belief and defence of all the Hebrew Scriptures, with all their prodigies, from the garden of Eden to the visions of the prophet Daniel; and they were bound, like the Catholics, to justify against the Jews the abolition of a divine law. In the great mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation the reformers were severely orthodox: they freely adopted the theology of the four, or the six first councils; and with the Athanasian creed, they pronounced the eternal damnation of all who did not believe the Catholic faith. Transubstantiation, the invisible change of the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, is a tenet that may defy the power of argument and pleasantry; but instead of consulting the evidence of their senses, of their sight, their feeling, and their taste, the first Protestants were entangled in their own scruples, and awed by the words of Jesus in the institution of the sacrament. Luther maintained a corporeal, and Calvin a real, presence of Christ in the eucharist; and the opinion of Zuinglius, that it is no more than a spiritual communion, a simple memorial, has slowly prevailed in the reformed churches. But the loss of one mystery was amply compensated by the stupendous doctrines of original sin, redemption, faith, grace, and predestination, which have been strained from the epistles of St. Paul. These subtile questions had most assuredly been prepared by the fathers and schoolmen; but the final improvement and popular use may be attributed to the first reformers, who enforced them as the absolute and essential terms of salvation. Hitherto the weight of supernatural belief inclines against the Protestants; and many a sober Christian would rather admit that a wafer is God, than that God is a cruel and capricious tyrant.

A philosopher who evaluates their worth and the significance of their reforms will wisely consider which articles of faith, beyond or contrary to our reason, have liberated the Christians; because such liberation is certainly beneficial as long as it aligns with truth and piety. After a thoughtful discussion, we are more likely to be surprised by the hesitance than shocked by the boldness of our early reformers. Along with the Jews, they embraced the belief and defense of all the Hebrew Scriptures, with all their wonders, from the Garden of Eden to the visions of the prophet Daniel; and they were obligated, like the Catholics, to justify the cancellation of a divine law against the Jews. In the significant mysteries of the Trinity and Incarnation, the reformers maintained strict orthodoxy: they openly accepted the theology from the first four or six councils; and with the Athanasian creed, they declared the eternal damnation of anyone who did not believe in the Catholic faith. Transubstantiation, the invisible transformation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, is a doctrine that may resist logical debate and humor; but instead of relying on their senses of sight, touch, and taste, the first Protestants found themselves caught up in their own doubts, feeling intimidated by Jesus’ words at the institution of the sacrament. Luther argued for a corporeal presence of Christ in the Eucharist, while Calvin supported a real presence; Zuinglius's view, that it is merely a spiritual communion, a simple memorial, has gradually gained acceptance in the reformed churches. However, the loss of one mystery was more than compensated for by the extraordinary doctrines of original sin, redemption, faith, grace, and predestination, which have emerged from the letters of St. Paul. These intricate questions had certainly been laid out by the church fathers and theologians, but their ultimate refinement and common usage can be credited to the first reformers, who presented them as the fundamental and essential conditions for salvation. Until now, the weight of supernatural belief tends to be against the Protestants; and many a thoughtful Christian would prefer to accept that a wafer is God rather than believe that God is a cruel and capricious tyrant.

Yet the services of Luther and his rivals are solid and important; and the philosopher must own his obligations to these fearless enthusiasts. I. By their hands the lofty fabric of superstition, from the abuse of indulgences to the intercession of the Virgin, has been levelled with the ground. Myriads of both sexes of the monastic profession were restored to the liberty and labors of social life. A hierarchy of saints and angels, of imperfect and subordinate deities, were stripped of their temporal power, and reduced to the enjoyment of celestial happiness; their images and relics were banished from the church; and the credulity of the people was no longer nourished with the daily repetition of miracles and visions. The imitation of Paganism was supplied by a pure and spiritual worship of prayer and thanksgiving, the most worthy of man, the least unworthy of the Deity. It only remains to observe, whether such sublime simplicity be consistent with popular devotion; whether the vulgar, in the absence of all visible objects, will not be inflamed by enthusiasm, or insensibly subside in languor and indifference. II. The chain of authority was broken, which restrains the bigot from thinking as he pleases, and the slave from speaking as he thinks: the popes, fathers, and councils, were no longer the supreme and infallible judges of the world; and each Christian was taught to acknowledge no law but the Scriptures, no interpreter but his own conscience. This freedom, however, was the consequence, rather than the design, of the Reformation. The patriot reformers were ambitious of succeeding the tyrants whom they had dethroned. They imposed with equal rigor their creeds and confessions; they asserted the right of the magistrate to punish heretics with death. The pious or personal animosity of Calvin proscribed in Servetus the guilt of his own rebellion; and the flames of Smithfield, in which he was afterwards consumed, had been kindled for the Anabaptists by the zeal of Cranmer. The nature of the tiger was the same, but he was gradually deprived of his teeth and fangs. A spiritual and temporal kingdom was possessed by the Roman pontiff; the Protestant doctors were subjects of an humble rank, without revenue or jurisdiction. His decrees were consecrated by the antiquity of the Catholic church: their arguments and disputes were submitted to the people; and their appeal to private judgment was accepted beyond their wishes, by curiosity and enthusiasm. Since the days of Luther and Calvin, a secret reformation has been silently working in the bosom of the reformed churches; many weeds of prejudice were eradicated; and the disciples of Erasmus diffused a spirit of freedom and moderation. The liberty of conscience has been claimed as a common benefit, an inalienable right: the free governments of Holland and England introduced the practice of toleration; and the narrow allowance of the laws has been enlarged by the prudence and humanity of the times. In the exercise, the mind has understood the limits of its powers, and the words and shadows that might amuse the child can no longer satisfy his manly reason. The volumes of controversy are overspread with cobwebs: the doctrine of a Protestant church is far removed from the knowledge or belief of its private members; and the forms of orthodoxy, the articles of faith, are subscribed with a sigh, or a smile, by the modern clergy. Yet the friends of Christianity are alarmed at the boundless impulse of inquiry and scepticism. The predictions of the Catholics are accomplished: the web of mystery is unravelled by the Arminians, Arians, and Socinians, whose number must not be computed from their separate congregations; and the pillars of Revelation are shaken by those men who preserve the name without the substance of religion, who indulge the license without the temper of philosophy.

Yet the services of Luther and his rivals are solid and important, and the philosopher must acknowledge his debt to these fearless enthusiasts. I. Through their efforts, the lofty structure of superstition, from the misuse of indulgences to the intercession of the Virgin, has been dismantled. Myriads of both men and women in religious orders returned to the freedom and work of social life. A hierarchy of saints and angels, of imperfect and subordinate deities, was stripped of their earthly power and reduced to enjoying celestial happiness; their images and relics were removed from the church, and the gullibility of the people was no longer fed by the daily repetition of miracles and visions. The imitation of Paganism was replaced by a pure and spiritual worship of prayer and thanksgiving, the most worthy of mankind and least unworthy of the Deity. It only remains to see whether such sublime simplicity can coexist with popular devotion; whether the masses, without any visible objects, will not be fired up by enthusiasm or gradually fall into lethargy and indifference. II. The chain of authority was broken, which kept the bigot from thinking freely and the slave from speaking his mind: the popes, fathers, and councils were no longer the supreme and infallible judges of the world; and each Christian was taught to recognize no law but the Scriptures, no interpreter but his own conscience. However, this freedom was more of a consequence than a goal of the Reformation. The reformers, who were patriots, were eager to take the place of the tyrants they had overthrown. They enforced their own creeds and confessions with equal strictness; they claimed the magistrate had the right to punish heretics with death. The fervent or personal animosity of Calvin led to the prosecution of Servetus, reflecting his own guilt; and the flames of Smithfield, where he was later burned, had been ignited for the Anabaptists by Cranmer’s zeal. The nature of the tiger remained the same, but gradually he was stripped of his teeth and claws. The Roman pontiff possessed both spiritual and temporal authority; the Protestant leaders were of a lowly status, without wealth or power. His decrees were sanctified by the traditions of the Catholic church: their arguments and debates were presented to the people; and their appeal to private judgment was accepted beyond their expectations, fueled by curiosity and enthusiasm. Since the days of Luther and Calvin, a quiet reformation has been subtly taking place within the reformed churches; many prejudices have been uprooted; and the followers of Erasmus spread a sense of freedom and moderation. The liberty of conscience has been claimed as a common good, an inalienable right: the free governments of Holland and England adopted the practice of toleration; and the restrictive nature of the laws has been eased by the wisdom and compassion of the times. In practice, the mind has grasped the limits of its powers, and the words and illusions that could amuse a child can no longer satisfy an adult's reasoning. The volumes of debate are gathering dust: the teachings of a Protestant church are far removed from the understanding or belief of its individual members; and the forms of orthodoxy, the articles of faith, are signed with a sigh or a smile by the modern clergy. Yet the advocates of Christianity are worried about the limitless drive for inquiry and doubt. The predictions of the Catholics have come true: the web of mystery has been untangled by the Arminians, Arians, and Socinians, whose numbers should not be counted solely by their separate congregations; and the foundations of Revelation are being shaken by those who keep the name without the essence of religion, who indulge in the freedom without the principles of philosophy.





Chapter LV: The Bulgarians, The Hungarians And The Russians.—Part I.

     The Bulgarians.—Origin, Migrations, And Settlement Of The
     Hungarians.—Their Inroads In The East And West.—The
     Monarchy Of Russia.—Geography And Trade.—Wars Of The
     Russians Against The Greek Empire.—Conversion Of The
     Barbarians.
     The Bulgarians.—Origin, Migrations, And Settlement Of The
     Hungarians.—Their Invasions In The East And West.—The
     Monarchy Of Russia.—Geography And Trade.—Wars Of The
     Russians Against The Greek Empire.—Conversion Of The
     Barbarians.

Under the reign of Constantine the grandson of Heraclius, the ancient barrier of the Danube, so often violated and so often restored, was irretrievably swept away by a new deluge of Barbarians. Their progress was favored by the caliphs, their unknown and accidental auxiliaries: the Roman legions were occupied in Asia; and after the loss of Syria, Egypt, and Africa, the Cæsars were twice reduced to the danger and disgrace of defending their capital against the Saracens. If, in the account of this interesting people, I have deviated from the strict and original line of my undertaking, the merit of the subject will hide my transgression, or solicit my excuse. In the East, in the West, in war, in religion, in science, in their prosperity, and in their decay, the Arabians press themselves on our curiosity: the first overthrow of the church and empire of the Greeks may be imputed to their arms; and the disciples of Mahomet still hold the civil and religious sceptre of the Oriental world. But the same labor would be unworthily bestowed on the swarms of savages, who, between the seventh and the twelfth century, descended from the plains of Scythia, in transient inroad or perpetual emigration. Their names are uncouth, their origins doubtful, their actions obscure, their superstition was blind, their valor brutal, and the uniformity of their public and private lives was neither softened by innocence nor refined by policy. The majesty of the Byzantine throne repelled and survived their disorderly attacks; the greater part of these Barbarians has disappeared without leaving any memorial of their existence, and the despicable remnant continues, and may long continue, to groan under the dominion of a foreign tyrant. From the antiquities of, I. Bulgarians, II. Hungarians, and, III. Russians, I shall content myself with selecting such facts as yet deserve to be remembered. The conquests of the, IV. Normans, and the monarchy of the, V. Turks, will naturally terminate in the memorable Crusades to the Holy Land, and the double fall of the city and empire of Constantine.

Under the rule of Constantine, the grandson of Heraclius, the ancient barrier of the Danube, which had been violated and restored many times, was completely wiped out by a new wave of Barbarians. Their advance was supported by the caliphs, their unexpected allies: the Roman legions were occupied in Asia; and after losing Syria, Egypt, and Africa, the Cæsars found themselves twice in the risk and shame of defending their capital against the Saracens. If my account of this interesting people strays from the strict path of my original intent, the significance of the subject will cover my misstep or excuse me. In the East, in the West, in war, in religion, in science, in their prosperity, and in their decline, the Arabs draw our interest: the first downfall of the church and empire of the Greeks can be attributed to their military actions; and the followers of Mahomet still hold the civil and religious authority of the Eastern world. However, the same effort would be poorly spent on the hordes of savages who, between the seventh and twelfth centuries, came down from the plains of Scythia, whether through temporary raids or permanent migrations. Their names are strange, their origins uncertain, their actions unclear, their beliefs were blind, their bravery was brutal, and the consistency of their public and private lives was neither softened by innocence nor refined by strategy. The grandeur of the Byzantine throne resisted and survived their chaotic assaults; most of these Barbarians have vanished without leaving any trace of their existence, and the pathetic remnants continue to suffer, and may continue to suffer for a long time, under the rule of a foreign tyrant. From the histories of I. Bulgarians, II. Hungarians, and III. Russians, I will only choose those facts that still deserve to be remembered. The conquests of the IV. Normans and the monarchy of the V. Turks will naturally lead to the significant Crusades to the Holy Land and the dual fall of the city and empire of Constantine.

I. In his march to Italy, Theodoric the Ostrogoth had trampled on the arms of the Bulgarians. After this defeat, the name and the nation are lost during a century and a half; and it may be suspected that the same or a similar appellation was revived by strange colonies from the Borysthenes, the Tanais, or the Volga. A king of the ancient Bulgaria bequeathed to his five sons a last lesson of moderation and concord. It was received as youth has ever received the counsels of age and experience: the five princes buried their father; divided his subjects and cattle; forgot his advice; separated from each other; and wandered in quest of fortune till we find the most adventurous in the heart of Italy, under the protection of the exarch of Ravenna. But the stream of emigration was directed or impelled towards the capital. The modern Bulgaria, along the southern banks of the Danube, was stamped with the name and image which it has retained to the present hour: the new conquerors successively acquired, by war or treaty, the Roman provinces of Dardania, Thessaly, and the two Epirus; the ecclesiastical supremacy was translated from the native city of Justinian; and, in their prosperous age, the obscure town of Lychnidus, or Achrida, was honored with the throne of a king and a patriarch. The unquestionable evidence of language attests the descent of the Bulgarians from the original stock of the Sclavonian, or more properly Slavonian, race; and the kindred bands of Servians, Bosnians, Rascians, Croatians, Walachians, &c., followed either the standard or the example of the leading tribe. From the Euxine to the Adriatic, in the state of captives, or subjects, or allies, or enemies, of the Greek empire, they overspread the land; and the national appellation of the slaves has been degraded by chance or malice from the signification of glory to that of servitude. Among these colonies, the Chrobatians, or Croats, who now attend the motions of an Austrian army, are the descendants of a mighty people, the conquerors and sovereigns of Dalmatia. The maritime cities, and of these the infant republic of Ragusa, implored the aid and instructions of the Byzantine court: they were advised by the magnanimous Basil to reserve a small acknowledgment of their fidelity to the Roman empire, and to appease, by an annual tribute, the wrath of these irresistible Barbarians. The kingdom of Croatia was shared by eleven Zoupans, or feudatory lords; and their united forces were numbered at sixty thousand horse and one hundred thousand foot. A long sea-coast, indented with capacious harbors, covered with a string of islands, and almost in sight of the Italian shores, disposed both the natives and strangers to the practice of navigation. The boats or brigantines of the Croats were constructed after the fashion of the old Liburnians: one hundred and eighty vessels may excite the idea of a respectable navy; but our seamen will smile at the allowance of ten, or twenty, or forty, men for each of these ships of war. They were gradually converted to the more honorable service of commerce; yet the Sclavonian pirates were still frequent and dangerous; and it was not before the close of the tenth century that the freedom and sovereignty of the Gulf were effectually vindicated by the Venetian republic. The ancestors of these Dalmatian kings were equally removed from the use and abuse of navigation: they dwelt in the White Croatia, in the inland regions of Silesia and Little Poland, thirty days' journey, according to the Greek computation, from the sea of darkness.

I. In his march to Italy, Theodoric the Ostrogoth trampled on the arms of the Bulgarians. After this defeat, the name and the nation were lost for a century and a half; it’s suspected that the same or a similar name was revived by strange colonies from the Borysthenes, the Tanais, or the Volga. A king of ancient Bulgaria passed down a final lesson of moderation and unity to his five sons. They received it just like young people always have treated the advice of older generations: the five princes buried their father, divided his subjects and livestock, ignored his counsel, separated from one another, and wandered off in search of fortune until the most adventurous found themselves in the heart of Italy, under the protection of the exarch of Ravenna. However, the stream of migration was directed or pushed towards the capital. The modern Bulgaria, located along the southern banks of the Danube, kept the name and identity it has today: the new conquerors gradually acquired, through war or treaties, the Roman provinces of Dardania, Thessaly, and the two Epirus; ecclesiastical authority was transferred from the native city of Justinian; and, in their prosperous era, the obscure town of Lychnidus, or Achrida, was honored with the throne of a king and a patriarch. The undeniable evidence of language confirms that the Bulgarians descended from the original stock of the Sclavonian, or more accurately, Slavonian race; and the related groups of Serbs, Bosnians, Rascians, Croatians, Wallachians, etc., either followed the banner or the example of the leading tribe. From the Black Sea to the Adriatic, they filled the land as captives, subjects, allies, or enemies of the Greek empire; and the national name of the slaves has been degraded by chance or malice from one of glory to one of servitude. Among these groups, the Chrobatians, or Croats, who now follow an Austrian army, are the descendants of a powerful people, the conquerors and rulers of Dalmatia. The coastal cities, including the newborn republic of Ragusa, sought help and guidance from the Byzantine court: they were advised by the noble Basil to maintain a small acknowledgment of their loyalty to the Roman empire, and to appease, through an annual tribute, the anger of these unstoppable Barbarians. The kingdom of Croatia was divided among eleven Zoupans, or feudal lords; and their combined forces were estimated at sixty thousand cavalry and one hundred thousand infantry. With a long coastline, filled with large harbors, dotted with a chain of islands, and almost visible from the Italian shores, both locals and foreigners were inclined to take up navigation. The boats or brigantines of the Croats were modeled after the old Liburnians: one hundred and eighty vessels might suggest a respectable navy; however, our sailors would smile at the allowance of ten, twenty, or forty men for each of these war ships. They were gradually shifted to the more respectable role of commerce; still, the Sclavonian pirates remained common and dangerous; and it wasn't until the end of the tenth century that the freedom and sovereignty of the Gulf were effectively asserted by the Venetian republic. The ancestors of these Dalmatian kings were equally distant from the use and abuse of navigation: they lived in White Croatia, in the inland areas of Silesia and Little Poland, about thirty days' journey, according to Greek estimates, from the sea of darkness.

The glory of the Bulgarians was confined to a narrow scope both of time and place. In the ninth and tenth centuries, they reigned to the south of the Danube; but the more powerful nations that had followed their emigration repelled all return to the north and all progress to the west. Yet in the obscure catalogue of their exploits, they might boast an honor which had hitherto been appropriated to the Goths: that of slaying in battle one of the successors of Augustus and Constantine. The emperor Nicephorus had lost his fame in the Arabian, he lost his life in the Sclavonian, war. In his first operations he advanced with boldness and success into the centre of Bulgaria, and burnt the royal court, which was probably no more than an edifice and village of timber. But while he searched the spoil and refused all offers of treaty, his enemies collected their spirits and their forces: the passes of retreat were insuperably barred; and the trembling Nicephorus was heard to exclaim, "Alas, alas! unless we could assume the wings of birds, we cannot hope to escape." Two days he waited his fate in the inactivity of despair; but, on the morning of the third, the Bulgarians surprised the camp, and the Roman prince, with the great officers of the empire, were slaughtered in their tents. The body of Valens had been saved from insult; but the head of Nicephorus was exposed on a spear, and his skull, enchased with gold, was often replenished in the feasts of victory. The Greeks bewailed the dishonor of the throne; but they acknowledged the just punishment of avarice and cruelty. This savage cup was deeply tinctured with the manners of the Scythian wilderness; but they were softened before the end of the same century by a peaceful intercourse with the Greeks, the possession of a cultivated region, and the introduction of the Christian worship. The nobles of Bulgaria were educated in the schools and palace of Constantinople; and Simeon, a youth of the royal line, was instructed in the rhetoric of Demosthenes and the logic of Aristotle. He relinquished the profession of a monk for that of a king and warrior; and in his reign of more than forty years, Bulgaria assumed a rank among the civilized powers of the earth. The Greeks, whom he repeatedly attacked, derived a faint consolation from indulging themselves in the reproaches of perfidy and sacrilege. They purchased the aid of the Pagan Turks; but Simeon, in a second battle, redeemed the loss of the first, at a time when it was esteemed a victory to elude the arms of that formidable nation. The Servians were overthrown, made captive and dispersed; and those who visited the country before their restoration could discover no more than fifty vagrants, without women or children, who extorted a precarious subsistence from the chase. On classic ground, on the banks of Achelöus, the Greeks were defeated; their horn was broken by the strength of the Barbaric Hercules. He formed the siege of Constantinople; and, in a personal conference with the emperor, Simeon imposed the conditions of peace. They met with the most jealous precautions: the royal gallery was drawn close to an artificial and well-fortified platform; and the majesty of the purple was emulated by the pomp of the Bulgarian. "Are you a Christian?" said the humble Romanus: "it is your duty to abstain from the blood of your fellow-Christians. Has the thirst of riches seduced you from the blessings of peace? Sheathe your sword, open your hand, and I will satiate the utmost measure of your desires." The reconciliation was sealed by a domestic alliance; the freedom of trade was granted or restored; the first honors of the court were secured to the friends of Bulgaria, above the ambassadors of enemies or strangers; and her princes were dignified with the high and invidious title of Basileus, or emperor. But this friendship was soon disturbed: after the death of Simeon, the nations were again in arms; his feeble successors were divided and extinguished; and, in the beginning of the eleventh century, the second Basil, who was born in the purple, deserved the appellation of conqueror of the Bulgarians. His avarice was in some measure gratified by a treasure of four hundred thousand pounds sterling, (ten thousand pounds' weight of gold,) which he found in the palace of Lychnidus. His cruelty inflicted a cool and exquisite vengeance on fifteen thousand captives who had been guilty of the defence of their country. They were deprived of sight; but to one of each hundred a single eye was left, that he might conduct his blind century to the presence of their king. Their king is said to have expired of grief and horror; the nation was awed by this terrible example; the Bulgarians were swept away from their settlements, and circumscribed within a narrow province; the surviving chiefs bequeathed to their children the advice of patience and the duty of revenge.

The glory of the Bulgarians was limited both in time and place. In the ninth and tenth centuries, they ruled south of the Danube, but more powerful nations that followed their migration blocked any return to the north and any progress to the west. However, in their list of exploits, they could claim an achievement that had previously belonged to the Goths: they defeated in battle one of the successors of Augustus and Constantine. Emperor Nicephorus lost his reputation in the Arabian Wars and his life in the Slavic War. At first, he boldly and successfully advanced into the heart of Bulgaria and burned the royal court, which was likely just a wooden structure and village. But while he looted the area and refused all offers of a treaty, his enemies gathered their strength. The escape routes were completely blocked, and the terrified Nicephorus was heard exclaiming, “Alas, alas! Unless we could grow wings like birds, we can’t hope to escape.” He waited for two days in despair, but on the morning of the third day, the Bulgarians surprised his camp, and the Roman prince, along with the top officials of the empire, was killed in their tents. Valens's body was spared from disrespect, but Nicephorus's head was displayed on a spear, and his golden-coated skull was often filled during victory feasts. The Greeks mourned the disgrace of the throne, but they recognized it as a fitting punishment for greed and cruelty. This brutal act was heavily influenced by the harsh ways of the Scythian wilderness, but by the end of the same century, things softened with peaceful interactions with the Greeks, settling in a cultivated area, and adopting Christian worship. The Bulgarian nobles were educated in the schools and palace of Constantinople, and Simeon, a young royal, studied the rhetoric of Demosthenes and the logic of Aristotle. He gave up being a monk to become a king and warrior; during his reign of over forty years, Bulgaria gained a status among the civilized nations. The Greeks, who he attacked repeatedly, found little comfort in labeling him as treacherous and sacrilegious. They sought help from the Pagan Turks; however, Simeon regained his first battle's loss in a second battle when it was considered a victory just to escape the might of that fierce nation. The Serbians were defeated, captured, and scattered; those who traveled to the region before their return could find no more than fifty wanderers, without women or children, struggling to survive through hunting. On classic ground, along the Achelöus River, the Greeks were beaten; their pride was shattered by the power of the Barbaric Hercules. He laid siege to Constantinople and, in a face-to-face meeting with the emperor, Simeon set terms for peace. They met with extreme caution: the royal area was moved close to a fortified platform; the majesty of the purple was matched by the splendor of the Bulgarian. “Are you a Christian?” asked the humble Romanus. “You should avoid shedding the blood of your fellow Christians. Has your desire for wealth led you away from the blessings of peace? Put away your sword, open your hands, and I’ll fulfill all your desires.” Their reconciliation was confirmed through a marriage alliance; trade freedom was granted or restored; the highest honors at court went to Bulgaria's allies over the ambassadors of enemies or outsiders; and its leaders were given the prestigious and envied title of Basileus, or emperor. But this friendship was soon disrupted: after Simeon’s death, the nations took up arms again; his weak successors were divided and defeated; and by the early eleventh century, the second Basil, who was born into royalty, earned the title of conqueror of the Bulgarians. His greed was somewhat satisfied by a treasure of four hundred thousand pounds sterling (ten thousand pounds of gold) found in the palace of Lychnidus. His cruelty brought forth a cold and exquisite revenge on fifteen thousand captives who had defended their land. They were blinded, but for every hundred, one was left with a single eye to lead his blind group before their king. It’s said that their king died from grief and horror; the nation was struck by this horrific example; the Bulgarians were driven from their homes and confined to a small region; the surviving leaders passed down the counsel of patience and the obligation of revenge to their children.

II. When the black swarm of Hungarians first hung over Europe, above nine hundred years after the Christian æra, they were mistaken by fear and superstition for the Gog and Magog of the Scriptures, the signs and forerunners of the end of the world. Since the introduction of letters, they have explored their own antiquities with a strong and laudable impulse of patriotic curiosity. Their rational criticism can no longer be amused with a vain pedigree of Attila and the Huns; but they complain that their primitive records have perished in the Tartar war; that the truth or fiction of their rustic songs is long since forgotten; and that the fragments of a rude chronicle must be painfully reconciled with the contemporary though foreign intelligence of the imperial geographer. Magiar is the national and oriental denomination of the Hungarians; but, among the tribes of Scythia, they are distinguished by the Greeks under the proper and peculiar name of Turks, as the descendants of that mighty people who had conquered and reigned from China to the Volga. The Pannonian colony preserved a correspondence of trade and amity with the eastern Turks on the confines of Persia and after a separation of three hundred and fifty years, the missionaries of the king of Hungary discovered and visited their ancient country near the banks of the Volga. They were hospitably entertained by a people of Pagans and Savages who still bore the name of Hungarians; conversed in their native tongue, recollected a tradition of their long-lost brethren, and listened with amazement to the marvellous tale of their new kingdom and religion. The zeal of conversion was animated by the interest of consanguinity; and one of the greatest of their princes had formed the generous, though fruitless, design of replenishing the solitude of Pannonia by this domestic colony from the heart of Tartary. From this primitive country they were driven to the West by the tide of war and emigration, by the weight of the more distant tribes, who at the same time were fugitives and conquerors. Reason or fortune directed their course towards the frontiers of the Roman empire: they halted in the usual stations along the banks of the great rivers; and in the territories of Moscow, Kiow, and Moldavia, some vestiges have been discovered of their temporary residence. In this long and various peregrination, they could not always escape the dominion of the stronger; and the purity of their blood was improved or sullied by the mixture of a foreign race: from a motive of compulsion, or choice, several tribes of the Chazars were associated to the standard of their ancient vassals; introduced the use of a second language; and obtained by their superior renown the most honorable place in the front of battle. The military force of the Turks and their allies marched in seven equal and artificial divisions; each division was formed of thirty thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven warriors, and the proportion of women, children, and servants, supposes and requires at least a million of emigrants. Their public counsels were directed by seven vayvods, or hereditary chiefs; but the experience of discord and weakness recommended the more simple and vigorous administration of a single person. The sceptre, which had been declined by the modest Lebedias, was granted to the birth or merit of Almus and his son Arpad, and the authority of the supreme khan of the Chazars confirmed the engagement of the prince and people; of the people to obey his commands, of the prince to consult their happiness and glory.

II. When the large group of Hungarians first arrived in Europe, over nine hundred years after the start of the Christian era, they were feared and seen as the Gog and Magog of the Scriptures, signals of the apocalypse. Since the advent of writing, they've taken a strong and commendable interest in their own history. Their logical analysis can no longer be satisfied with a meaningless lineage to Attila and the Huns; instead, they lament that their early records were lost in the Tartar wars, that the truth or fiction of their folk songs has long been forgotten, and that the scraps of a rough chronicle must be painstakingly compared with the contemporary yet foreign knowledge of imperial mapmakers. Magiar is the national and eastern name for the Hungarians; among the Scythian tribes, they're identified by the Greeks using the specific name Turks, as descendants of the powerful group that conquered and ruled from China to the Volga. The Pannonian colony maintained trade and friendly relations with the eastern Turks near Persia, and after three hundred and fifty years had passed, the missionaries from the king of Hungary discovered and visited their ancient land by the Volga River. They were warmly welcomed by a people of Pagans and Savages who still identified as Hungarians; they spoke in their native language, remembered a tradition about their long-lost relatives, and listened in awe to the incredible stories of their new kingdom and faith. The enthusiasm for conversion was fueled by their shared bloodline; one of their greatest princes had planned a noble, though ultimately unsuccessful, initiative to repopulate the empty lands of Pannonia with this local colony from the heart of Tartary. This original homeland was left as they moved westward due to war and migration, pushed by the weight of more distant tribes who were both fleeing and conquering at the same time. Fortune or reason guided their journey towards the borders of the Roman Empire; they stopped at familiar spots along the great rivers; and in the areas of Moscow, Kiow, and Moldavia, some evidence of their temporary settlements has been found. During this lengthy and varied journey, they couldn’t always escape the control of stronger groups; and the purity of their lineage was either enhanced or tainted by mixing with foreign races: either by coercion or choice, several tribes of the Chazars joined with their historical vassals; introduced a second language; and gained the most honorable positions in battle due to their superior reputation. The military might of the Turks and their allies was organized in seven equal and strategic divisions; each division consisted of thirty thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven warriors, and the number of women, children, and servants suggests there were at least a million emigrants. Their public decisions were made by seven vayvods, or hereditary chiefs; however, the experience of conflict and weakness led to the preference for a more straightforward and effective governance by a single leader. The leadership, which had been turned down by the modest Lebedias, was given to Almus and his son Arpad based on either their birth or merit, and the authority of the supreme khan of the Chazars solidified the agreement between the prince and the people: the people would obey his commands, and the prince would seek their well-being and honor.

With this narrative we might be reasonably content, if the penetration of modern learning had not opened a new and larger prospect of the antiquities of nations. The Hungarian language stands alone, and as it were insulated, among the Sclavonian dialects; but it bears a close and clear affinity to the idioms of the Fennic race, of an obsolete and savage race, which formerly occupied the northern regions of Asia and Europe. The genuine appellation of Ugri or Igours is found on the western confines of China; their migration to the banks of the Irtish is attested by Tartar evidence; a similar name and language are detected in the southern parts of Siberia; and the remains of the Fennic tribes are widely, though thinly scattered from the sources of the Oby to the shores of Lapland. The consanguinity of the Hungarians and Laplanders would display the powerful energy of climate on the children of a common parent; the lively contrast between the bold adventurers who are intoxicated with the wines of the Danube, and the wretched fugitives who are immersed beneath the snows of the polar circle. Arms and freedom have ever been the ruling, though too often the unsuccessful, passion of the Hungarians, who are endowed by nature with a vigorous constitution of soul and body. Extreme cold has diminished the stature and congealed the faculties of the Laplanders; and the arctic tribes, alone among the sons of men, are ignorant of war, and unconscious of human blood; a happy ignorance, if reason and virtue were the guardians of their peace!

With this story, we might feel fairly satisfied, if the advancement of modern knowledge hadn’t revealed a new and broader view of the histories of different nations. The Hungarian language is unique and somewhat isolated among the Slavic dialects; however, it shares a clear connection with the languages of the Finnic people, an ancient and untamed culture that once inhabited the northern regions of Asia and Europe. The true name of Ugri or Igours is found in the western borders of China; their migration to the banks of the Irtish River is supported by Tartar evidence; a similar name and language can be found in southern Siberia; and remnants of the Finnic tribes are widely but sparsely distributed from the sources of the Ob River to the shores of Lapland. The relationship between Hungarians and Laplanders highlights the strong influence of climate on the descendants of a common ancestor; the striking contrast exists between the daring adventurers indulging in the wines of the Danube and the miserable refugees buried under the snows of the polar circle. Arms and freedom have always been the driving, albeit often unsuccessful, passion of the Hungarians, who are naturally blessed with a strong constitution both in spirit and body. Severe cold has stunted the growth and impaired the abilities of the Laplanders; and the Arctic tribes, unique among humankind, are clueless about warfare and unaware of human bloodshed; a fortunate ignorance, if reason and virtue were the protectors of their peace!





Chapter LV: The Bulgarians, The Hungarians And The Russians.—Part II.

It is the observation of the Imperial author of the Tactics, that all the Scythian hordes resembled each other in their pastoral and military life, that they all practised the same means of subsistence, and employed the same instruments of destruction. But he adds, that the two nations of Bulgarians and Hungarians were superior to their brethren, and similar to each other in the improvements, however rude, of their discipline and government: their visible likeness determines Leo to confound his friends and enemies in one common description; and the picture may be heightened by some strokes from their contemporaries of the tenth century. Except the merit and fame of military prowess, all that is valued by mankind appeared vile and contemptible to these Barbarians, whose native fierceness was stimulated by the consciousness of numbers and freedom. The tents of the Hungarians were of leather, their garments of fur; they shaved their hair, and scarified their faces: in speech they were slow, in action prompt, in treaty perfidious; and they shared the common reproach of Barbarians, too ignorant to conceive the importance of truth, too proud to deny or palliate the breach of their most solemn engagements. Their simplicity has been praised; yet they abstained only from the luxury they had never known; whatever they saw they coveted; their desires were insatiate, and their sole industry was the hand of violence and rapine. By the definition of a pastoral nation, I have recalled a long description of the economy, the warfare, and the government that prevail in that state of society; I may add, that to fishing, as well as to the chase, the Hungarians were indebted for a part of their subsistence; and since they seldom cultivated the ground, they must, at least in their new settlements, have sometimes practised a slight and unskilful husbandry. In their emigrations, perhaps in their expeditions, the host was accompanied by thousands of sheep and oxen which increased the cloud of formidable dust, and afforded a constant and wholesale supply of milk and animal food. A plentiful command of forage was the first care of the general, and if the flocks and herds were secure of their pastures, the hardy warrior was alike insensible of danger and fatigue. The confusion of men and cattle that overspread the country exposed their camp to a nocturnal surprise, had not a still wider circuit been occupied by their light cavalry, perpetually in motion to discover and delay the approach of the enemy. After some experience of the Roman tactics, they adopted the use of the sword and spear, the helmet of the soldier, and the iron breastplate of his steed: but their native and deadly weapon was the Tartar bow: from the earliest infancy their children and servants were exercised in the double science of archery and horsemanship; their arm was strong; their aim was sure; and in the most rapid career, they were taught to throw themselves backwards, and to shoot a volley of arrows into the air. In open combat, in secret ambush, in flight, or pursuit, they were equally formidable; an appearance of order was maintained in the foremost ranks, but their charge was driven forwards by the impatient pressure of succeeding crowds. They pursued, headlong and rash, with loosened reins and horrific outcries; but, if they fled, with real or dissembled fear, the ardor of a pursuing foe was checked and chastised by the same habits of irregular speed and sudden evolution. In the abuse of victory, they astonished Europe, yet smarting from the wounds of the Saracen and the Dane: mercy they rarely asked, and more rarely bestowed: both sexes if accused is equally inaccessible to pity, and their appetite for raw flesh might countenance the popular tale, that they drank the blood, and feasted on the hearts of the slain. Yet the Hungarians were not devoid of those principles of justice and humanity, which nature has implanted in every bosom. The license of public and private injuries was restrained by laws and punishments; and in the security of an open camp, theft is the most tempting and most dangerous offence. Among the Barbarians there were many, whose spontaneous virtue supplied their laws and corrected their manners, who performed the duties, and sympathized with the affections, of social life.

The Imperial author of the Tactics observes that all the Scythian tribes were similar in their farming and military lifestyles, that they all used the same methods for survival, and employed the same weapons. However, he adds that the two nations of Bulgarians and Hungarians were better than their relatives, sharing similarities in their rough improvements in discipline and governance. Their visible resemblance leads Leo to group both friends and foes into a single description, and this image can be enhanced by accounts from their tenth-century contemporaries. Aside from their military prowess, everything else valued by people seemed worthless and despicable to these Barbarians, whose natural fierceness was fueled by their awareness of their numbers and freedom. The Hungarians lived in leather tents and wore fur clothing; they shaved their heads and scarified their faces. In conversation, they were slow, in action quick, and in treaties deceitful; they shared the common shame of Barbarians who are too ignorant to understand the importance of truth and too proud to admit or soften the breach of their serious commitments. Their simplicity has been praised, yet they only refrained from luxuries they had never known; everything they saw, they desired; their cravings were insatiable, and their only industriousness lay in violence and theft. By defining a pastoral nation, I have gone through a long description of the economy, warfare, and governance that exist in that type of society. I can add that in addition to hunting, Hungarians relied on fishing for part of their food; and since they rarely farmed, they must have occasionally practiced a minimal and unskilled form of agriculture in their new settlements. During their migrations, perhaps during their raids, the group was accompanied by thousands of sheep and oxen, which raised a massive cloud of dust and provided a steady supply of milk and meat. Ensuring a plentiful supply of forage was the general's top priority, and as long as the flocks and herds were safe in their pastures, the tough warriors were oblivious to danger and fatigue. The mix of people and livestock that spread across the land made their camp vulnerable to surprise attacks at night, had it not been for their light cavalry patrolling the area to detect and slow any enemy approach. After experiencing Roman tactics, they adopted the use of swords and spears, soldier helmets, and iron breastplates for their horses. However, their primary and lethal weapon was the Tartar bow— from a young age, their children and servants trained in both archery and horseback riding; their arms were strong, their aim precise, and while riding at high speed, they learned to lean back and shoot volleys of arrows into the air. In open battle, ambushes, flight, or pursuit, they were equally fearsome; an appearance of order was kept among the front ranks, but their force surged forward fueled by the relentless push of those behind. They charged recklessly, shouting terrifying cries; yet if they fled— either out of genuine or feigned fear— the fervor of a pursuing enemy was met with their own swift, unpredictable movements. In the chaos of victory, they astonished Europe, even as they dealt with the wounds inflicted by the Saracen and the Dane. They rarely asked for mercy and even more rarely offered it; both genders, if accused, were equally unsympathetic, and their taste for raw meat supported the popular belief that they drank the blood and feasted on the hearts of the slain. Still, the Hungarians were not without the principles of justice and humanity that nature has instilled in every heart. The law and punishments governed public and private offenses, and in the safety of an open camp, theft was the most tempting yet dangerous crime. Among the Barbarians, there were many whose natural virtue guided their laws and improved their behavior, who fulfilled social duties and shared in the feelings of communal life.

After a long pilgrimage of flight or victory, the Turkish hordes approached the common limits of the French and Byzantine empires. Their first conquests and final settlements extended on either side of the Danube above Vienna, below Belgrade, and beyond the measure of the Roman province of Pannonia, or the modern kingdom of Hungary. That ample and fertile land was loosely occupied by the Moravians, a Sclavonian name and tribe, which were driven by the invaders into the compass of a narrow province. Charlemagne had stretched a vague and nominal empire as far as the edge of Transylvania; but, after the failure of his legitimate line, the dukes of Moravia forgot their obedience and tribute to the monarchs of Oriental France. The bastard Arnulph was provoked to invite the arms of the Turks: they rushed through the real or figurative wall, which his indiscretion had thrown open; and the king of Germany has been justly reproached as a traitor to the civil and ecclesiastical society of the Christians. During the life of Arnulph, the Hungarians were checked by gratitude or fear; but in the infancy of his son Lewis they discovered and invaded Bavaria; and such was their Scythian speed, that in a single day a circuit of fifty miles was stripped and consumed. In the battle of Augsburgh the Christians maintained their advantage till the seventh hour of the day, they were deceived and vanquished by the flying stratagems of the Turkish cavalry. The conflagration spread over the provinces of Bavaria, Swabia, and Franconia; and the Hungarians promoted the reign of anarchy, by forcing the stoutest barons to discipline their vassals and fortify their castles. The origin of walled towns is ascribed to this calamitous period; nor could any distance be secure against an enemy, who, almost at the same instant, laid in ashes the Helvetian monastery of St. Gall, and the city of Bremen, on the shores of the northern ocean. Above thirty years the Germanic empire, or kingdom, was subject to the ignominy of tribute; and resistance was disarmed by the menace, the serious and effectual menace of dragging the women and children into captivity, and of slaughtering the males above the age of ten years. I have neither power nor inclination to follow the Hungarians beyond the Rhine; but I must observe with surprise, that the southern provinces of France were blasted by the tempest, and that Spain, behind her Pyrenees, was astonished at the approach of these formidable strangers. The vicinity of Italy had tempted their early inroads; but from their camp on the Brenta, they beheld with some terror the apparent strength and populousness of the new discovered country. They requested leave to retire; their request was proudly rejected by the Italian king; and the lives of twenty thousand Christians paid the forfeit of his obstinacy and rashness. Among the cities of the West, the royal Pavia was conspicuous in fame and splendor; and the preëminence of Rome itself was only derived from the relics of the apostles. The Hungarians appeared; Pavia was in flames; forty-three churches were consumed; and, after the massacre of the people, they spared about two hundred wretches who had gathered some bushels of gold and silver (a vague exaggeration) from the smoking ruins of their country. In these annual excursions from the Alps to the neighborhood of Rome and Capua, the churches, that yet escaped, resounded with a fearful litany: "O, save and deliver us from the arrows of the Hungarians!" But the saints were deaf or inexorable; and the torrent rolled forwards, till it was stopped by the extreme land of Calabria. A composition was offered and accepted for the head of each Italian subject; and ten bushels of silver were poured forth in the Turkish camp. But falsehood is the natural antagonist of violence; and the robbers were defrauded both in the numbers of the assessment and the standard of the metal. On the side of the East, the Hungarians were opposed in doubtful conflict by the equal arms of the Bulgarians, whose faith forbade an alliance with the Pagans, and whose situation formed the barrier of the Byzantine empire. The barrier was overturned; the emperor of Constantinople beheld the waving banners of the Turks; and one of their boldest warriors presumed to strike a battle-axe into the golden gate. The arts and treasures of the Greeks diverted the assault; but the Hungarians might boast, in their retreat, that they had imposed a tribute on the spirit of Bulgaria and the majesty of the Cæsars. The remote and rapid operations of the same campaign appear to magnify the power and numbers of the Turks; but their courage is most deserving of praise, since a light troop of three or four hundred horse would often attempt and execute the most daring inroads to the gates of Thessalonica and Constantinople. At this disastrous æra of the ninth and tenth centuries, Europe was afflicted by a triple scourge from the North, the East, and the South: the Norman, the Hungarian, and the Saracen, sometimes trod the same ground of desolation; and these savage foes might have been compared by Homer to the two lions growling over the carcass of a mangled stag.

After a long journey of battle and conquest, the Turkish hordes approached the shared borders of the French and Byzantine empires. Their initial victories and final settlements extended on both sides of the Danube, above Vienna, below Belgrade, and beyond the previous limits of the Roman province of Pannonia, which is now known as Hungary. This vast and fertile land was only loosely inhabited by the Moravians, a Slavic people, who were pushed by the invaders into a small province. Charlemagne had stretched a vague and nominal empire as far as the edges of Transylvania; however, after the decline of his rightful heirs, the dukes of Moravia disregarded their allegiance and tribute to the monarchs of Eastern France. The illegitimate Arnulph incited the Turks to attack: they stormed through the actual or metaphorical breach that his carelessness had opened, and the king of Germany has rightly been labeled a traitor to the civil and religious order of Christians. During Arnulph’s lifetime, the Hungarians held back out of gratitude or fear; but in the early days of his son Lewis, they launched an invasion of Bavaria, moving with such speed that they ravaged an area of fifty miles in just one day. In the battle of Augsburg, the Christians held an advantage until the seventh hour but were ultimately outsmarted and defeated by the cunning tactics of the Turkish cavalry. The devastation spread across Bavaria, Swabia, and Franconia; and the Hungarians brought chaos by forcing the strongest barons to train their vassals and fortify their castles. The rise of walled towns is attributed to this disastrous era; nowhere was safe from an enemy that could, within moments, destroy both the Helvetian monastery of St. Gall and the city of Bremen, located by the Northern Ocean. For over thirty years, the Germanic empire faced the shame of paying tribute; and many were rendered powerless by the serious threat of having their women and children taken captive, while the males over ten were slaughtered. I lack the power or desire to track the Hungarians beyond the Rhine, but I must note with astonishment that the southern regions of France were struck by the storm, and that Spain, behind the Pyrenees, was shocked by the advance of these formidable invaders. The proximity of Italy had tempted their early incursions; however, staring from their camp on the Brenta, they were somewhat intimidated by the apparent strength and population of the newly discovered country. They asked for permission to retreat; their request was haughtily denied by the Italian king, and the lives of twenty thousand Christians became the price of his stubbornness and folly. Among the cities of the West, the royal Pavia stood out for its prominence and beauty; even the significance of Rome itself came mainly from the relics of the apostles. When the Hungarians arrived, Pavia was set ablaze; forty-three churches were destroyed, and after the massacre of the people, they spared around two hundred unfortunate souls who had gathered some bushels of gold and silver (a probable exaggeration) from the smoldering remains of their city. During these annual raids from the Alps to the vicinity of Rome and Capua, the surviving churches rang out with a terrifying prayer: "O, save and deliver us from the arrows of the Hungarians!" But the saints were either indifferent or unyielding; and the onslaught continued until it was halted at the southernmost part of Calabria. A payment was offered and accepted for each Italian subject; and ten bushels of silver were delivered to the Turkish camp. However, deceit is the natural enemy of violence, and the brigands were cheated both in the numbers of the payment and the quality of the metal. To the East, the Hungarians faced uncertain battles against the equally armed Bulgarians, whose faith forbade them from forming alliances with the pagans, and whose territory served as a buffer for the Byzantine empire. This barrier was breached; the emperor of Constantinople witnessed the flying banners of the Turks; and one of their bold warriors dared to strike a battle-axe against the golden gate. The arts and treasures of the Greeks deflected the attack, but the Hungarians could claim, in their retreat, that they had imposed a tribute on the spirit of Bulgaria and the dignity of the Caesars. The swift and distant efforts of the same campaign seem to amplify the power and numbers of the Turks; but their bravery deserves the most praise, as small groups of only three or four hundred horsemen often undertook the most audacious raids to the gates of Thessalonica and Constantinople. During this disastrous period of the ninth and tenth centuries, Europe suffered from a triple threat from the North, East, and South: the Normans, the Hungarians, and the Saracens sometimes left the same devastated ground behind; and these savage enemies could have been likened by Homer to two lions growling over the carcass of a mutilated stag.

The deliverance of Germany and Christendom was achieved by the Saxon princes, Henry the Fowler and Otho the Great, who, in two memorable battles, forever broke the power of the Hungarians. The valiant Henry was roused from a bed of sickness by the invasion of his country; but his mind was vigorous and his prudence successful. "My companions," said he, on the morning of the combat, "maintain your ranks, receive on your bucklers the first arrows of the Pagans, and prevent their second discharge by the equal and rapid career of your lances." They obeyed and conquered: and the historical picture of the castle of Merseburgh expressed the features, or at least the character, of Henry, who, in an age of ignorance, intrusted to the finer arts the perpetuity of his name. At the end of twenty years, the children of the Turks who had fallen by his sword invaded the empire of his son; and their force is defined, in the lowest estimate, at one hundred thousand horse. They were invited by domestic faction; the gates of Germany were treacherously unlocked; and they spread, far beyond the Rhine and the Meuse, into the heart of Flanders. But the vigor and prudence of Otho dispelled the conspiracy; the princes were made sensible that unless they were true to each other, their religion and country were irrecoverably lost; and the national powers were reviewed in the plains of Augsburgh. They marched and fought in eight legions, according to the division of provinces and tribes; the first, second, and third, were composed of Bavarians; the fourth, of Franconians; the fifth, of Saxons, under the immediate command of the monarch; the sixth and seventh consisted of Swabians; and the eighth legion, of a thousand Bohemians, closed the rear of the host. The resources of discipline and valor were fortified by the arts of superstition, which, on this occasion, may deserve the epithets of generous and salutary. The soldiers were purified with a fast; the camp was blessed with the relics of saints and martyrs; and the Christian hero girded on his side the sword of Constantine, grasped the invincible spear of Charlemagne, and waved the banner of St. Maurice, the præfect of the Thebæan legion. But his firmest confidence was placed in the holy lance, whose point was fashioned of the nails of the cross, and which his father had extorted from the king of Burgundy, by the threats of war, and the gift of a province. The Hungarians were expected in the front; they secretly passed the Lech, a river of Bavaria that falls into the Danube; turned the rear of the Christian army; plundered the baggage, and disordered the legion of Bohemia and Swabia. The battle was restored by the Franconians, whose duke, the valiant Conrad, was pierced with an arrow as he rested from his fatigues: the Saxons fought under the eyes of their king; and his victory surpassed, in merit and importance, the triumphs of the last two hundred years. The loss of the Hungarians was still greater in the flight than in the action; they were encompassed by the rivers of Bavaria; and their past cruelties excluded them from the hope of mercy. Three captive princes were hanged at Ratisbon, the multitude of prisoners was slain or mutilated, and the fugitives, who presumed to appear in the face of their country, were condemned to everlasting poverty and disgrace. Yet the spirit of the nation was humbled, and the most accessible passes of Hungary were fortified with a ditch and rampart. Adversity suggested the counsels of moderation and peace: the robbers of the West acquiesced in a sedentary life; and the next generation was taught, by a discerning prince, that far more might be gained by multiplying and exchanging the produce of a fruitful soil. The native race, the Turkish or Fennic blood, was mingled with new colonies of Scythian or Sclavonian origin; many thousands of robust and industrious captives had been imported from all the countries of Europe; and after the marriage of Geisa with a Bavarian princess, he bestowed honors and estates on the nobles of Germany. The son of Geisa was invested with the regal title, and the house of Arpad reigned three hundred years in the kingdom of Hungary. But the freeborn Barbarians were not dazzled by the lustre of the diadem, and the people asserted their indefeasible right of choosing, deposing, and punishing the hereditary servant of the state.

The liberation of Germany and Christendom was accomplished by the Saxon princes, Henry the Fowler and Otto the Great, who, in two significant battles, permanently ended the power of the Hungarians. The brave Henry was called from his sickbed by the invasion of his country; his mind was sharp and his judgement effective. “My friends,” he said on the morning of the battle, “stay in formation, absorb the first arrows of the Pagans on your shields, and prevent their second volley with a swift and equal charge of your lances.” They followed his lead and triumphed: the historical depiction of the castle of Merseburg reflects either the features or at least the character of Henry, who, in an age of ignorance, entrusted the finer arts with ensuring his name would live on. After twenty years, the descendants of the Turks who had fallen by his sword attacked the empire of his son, estimated to have a force of at least one hundred thousand cavalry. They were invited by domestic strife; the gates of Germany were treacherously opened, and they spread far beyond the Rhine and the Meuse, into the heart of Flanders. But Otto’s energy and wisdom thwarted the conspiracy; the princes realized that if they were not loyal to one another, their religion and country would be irretrievably lost; and national forces were gathered on the plains of Augsburg. They marched and fought in eight legions, organized by provinces and tribes: the first, second, and third were made up of Bavarians; the fourth group of Franconians; the fifth of Saxons, led directly by the monarch; the sixth and seventh consisted of Swabians; and the eighth legion, made up of a thousand Bohemians, brought up the rear. The elements of discipline and bravery were bolstered by the methods of superstition, which on this occasion could rightly be called generous and beneficial. The soldiers underwent purification through fasting; the camp was blessed with relics of saints and martyrs; and the Christian hero strapped on the sword of Constantine, held the invincible spear of Charlemagne, and waved the banner of St. Maurice, the commander of the Theban Legion. However, his strongest assurance was in the holy lance, whose tip was made from the nails of the cross, which his father had obtained from the king of Burgundy through the threats of war and the offer of a province. The Hungarians were expected in front; they secretly crossed the Lech, a Bavarian river that flows into the Danube; flanked the rear of the Christian army; plundered the supplies, and disrupted the legions of Bohemia and Swabia. The Franconians regained control of the battle, whose duke, the brave Conrad, was struck by an arrow while resting from his efforts: the Saxons fought under their king’s gaze; and his victory was more significant and noteworthy than the triumphs of the past two hundred years. The Hungarians suffered even greater losses in their retreat than in the battle; they were surrounded by the rivers of Bavaria; and their past brutality denied them any hope of mercy. Three captured princes were hanged at Regensburg, many prisoners were killed or mutilated, and the fleeing soldiers, who dared to return home, were sentenced to perpetual poverty and disgrace. Still, the national spirit was broken, and the most accessible routes into Hungary were fortified with ditches and ramparts. Hard times brought about advice for moderation and peace: the raiders from the West settled into a more sedentary lifestyle; and the next generation learned from a wise prince that it was far better to cultivate and trade the bounty of fertile land. The native population, of Turkish or Finno-Ugric descent, mixed with new groups from Scythian or Slavic origins; thousands of strong and hardworking captives were brought in from all over Europe; and after Geisa married a Bavarian princess, he granted honors and land to the German nobility. Geisa’s son was bestowed the royal title, and the House of Árpád ruled for three hundred years in the kingdom of Hungary. However, the freeborn Barbarians were not swayed by the shining crown, and the people asserted their undeniable right to choose, dismiss, and hold accountable the hereditary servant of the state.

III. The name of Russians was first divulged, in the ninth century, by an embassy of Theophilus, emperor of the East, to the emperor of the West, Lewis, the son of Charlemagne. The Greeks were accompanied by the envoys of the great duke, or chagan, or czar, of the Russians. In their journey to Constantinople, they had traversed many hostile nations; and they hoped to escape the dangers of their return, by requesting the French monarch to transport them by sea to their native country. A closer examination detected their origin: they were the brethren of the Swedes and Normans, whose name was already odious and formidable in France; and it might justly be apprehended, that these Russian strangers were not the messengers of peace, but the emissaries of war. They were detained, while the Greeks were dismissed; and Lewis expected a more satisfactory account, that he might obey the laws of hospitality or prudence, according to the interest of both empires. This Scandinavian origin of the people, or at least the princes, of Russia, may be confirmed and illustrated by the national annals and the general history of the North. The Normans, who had so long been concealed by a veil of impenetrable darkness, suddenly burst forth in the spirit of naval and military enterprise. The vast, and, as it is said, the populous regions of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, were crowded with independent chieftains and desperate adventurers, who sighed in the laziness of peace, and smiled in the agonies of death. Piracy was the exercise, the trade, the glory, and the virtue, of the Scandinavian youth. Impatient of a bleak climate and narrow limits, they started from the banquet, grasped their arms, sounded their horn, ascended their vessels, and explored every coast that promised either spoil or settlement. The Baltic was the first scene of their naval achievements they visited the eastern shores, the silent residence of Fennic and Sclavonic tribes, and the primitive Russians of the Lake Ladoga paid a tribute, the skins of white squirrels, to these strangers, whom they saluted with the title of Varangians or Corsairs. Their superiority in arms, discipline, and renown, commanded the fear and reverence of the natives. In their wars against the more inland savages, the Varangians condescended to serve as friends and auxiliaries, and gradually, by choice or conquest, obtained the dominion of a people whom they were qualified to protect. Their tyranny was expelled, their valor was again recalled, till at length Ruric, a Scandinavian chief, became the father of a dynasty which reigned above seven hundred years. His brothers extended his influence: the example of service and usurpation was imitated by his companions in the southern provinces of Russia; and their establishments, by the usual methods of war and assassination, were cemented into the fabric of a powerful monarchy.

III. The name of Russians was first revealed in the ninth century by an embassy from Theophilus, the emperor of the East, to Lewis, the son of Charlemagne, who was the emperor of the West. The Greeks were accompanied by envoys from the great duke, or chagan, or czar, of the Russians. On their journey to Constantinople, they passed through many hostile nations, and they hoped to avoid dangers on their return by asking the French king to transport them by sea back to their homeland. A closer look revealed their origins: they were related to the Swedes and Normans, whose name was already feared and despised in France, and it was justifiable to worry that these Russian newcomers were not messengers of peace, but rather agents of war. They were held back, while the Greeks were allowed to go, and Lewis awaited a clearer explanation so he could act according to the rules of hospitality or caution, depending on the interests of both empires. The Scandinavian roots of the people, or at least the leaders, of Russia can be confirmed and elaborated upon by national histories and the general history of the North. The Normans, who had been hidden in a shroud of impenetrable darkness, suddenly emerged, driven by a spirit of naval and military adventure. The vast, and as it's said, populous regions of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway were filled with independent chieftains and daring adventurers, who yearned for peace but also thrived on the thrill of battle. Piracy was the activity, the trade, the pride, and the virtue of the Scandinavian youth. Tired of a harsh climate and limited horizons, they left the feast, took up their weapons, sounded their horns, boarded their ships, and explored every coast that promised treasure or a place to settle. The Baltic was the first site of their naval successes; they visited the eastern shores, home to the quiet Fennic and Sclavonic tribes, and the early Russians of Lake Ladoga paid tribute, in the form of white squirrel skins, to these outsiders, whom they called Varangians or Corsairs. Their superior skills in combat, discipline, and reputation commanded both fear and respect from the locals. In their wars against the more inland tribes, the Varangians agreed to serve as allies, and over time, by choice or conquest, they came to rule over a people they were qualified to protect. Their oppression was eventually cast aside, their bravery was recognized again, until at last Ruric, a Scandinavian leader, became the ancestor of a dynasty that ruled for over seven hundred years. His brothers expanded his influence: the example of service and usurpation was followed by his companions in the southern regions of Russia, and their establishments, through typical means of warfare and betrayal, reinforced the foundation of a strong monarchy.

As long as the descendants of Ruric were considered as aliens and conquerors, they ruled by the sword of the Varangians, distributed estates and subjects to their faithful captains, and supplied their numbers with fresh streams of adventurers from the Baltic coast. But when the Scandinavian chiefs had struck a deep and permanent root into the soil, they mingled with the Russians in blood, religion, and language, and the first Waladimir had the merit of delivering his country from these foreign mercenaries. They had seated him on the throne; his riches were insufficient to satisfy their demands; but they listened to his pleasing advice, that they should seek, not a more grateful, but a more wealthy, master; that they should embark for Greece, where, instead of the skins of squirrels, silk and gold would be the recompense of their service. At the same time, the Russian prince admonished his Byzantine ally to disperse and employ, to recompense and restrain, these impetuous children of the North. Contemporary writers have recorded the introduction, name, and character, of the Varangians: each day they rose in confidence and esteem; the whole body was assembled at Constantinople to perform the duty of guards; and their strength was recruited by a numerous band of their countrymen from the Island of Thule. On this occasion, the vague appellation of Thule is applied to England; and the new Varangians were a colony of English and Danes who fled from the yoke of the Norman conqueror. The habits of pilgrimage and piracy had approximated the countries of the earth; these exiles were entertained in the Byzantine court; and they preserved, till the last age of the empire, the inheritance of spotless loyalty, and the use of the Danish or English tongue. With their broad and double-edged battle-axes on their shoulders, they attended the Greek emperor to the temple, the senate, and the hippodrome; he slept and feasted under their trusty guard; and the keys of the palace, the treasury, and the capital, were held by the firm and faithful hands of the Varangians.

As long as the descendants of Ruric were seen as outsiders and conquerors, they ruled with the sword of the Varangians, dividing up estates and subjects among their loyal captains while bringing in fresh recruits from the Baltic coast. But once the Scandinavian leaders had established a strong and lasting presence in the region, they mixed with the Russians in terms of blood, religion, and language. The first Vladimir played a key role in freeing his land from these foreign mercenaries. They had placed him on the throne, but his wealth wasn’t enough to meet their expectations. However, he persuaded them with the appealing idea that they should seek not a more grateful master, but a wealthier one; they should head to Greece, where the rewards for their service would be silk and gold instead of squirrel skins. At the same time, the Russian prince urged his Byzantine ally to distribute and utilize these fierce northern warriors to both reward and control them. Contemporary writers noted the arrival, name, and nature of the Varangians: they grew more confident and respected each day; the entire group was assembled in Constantinople to serve as guards, bolstered by many of their fellow countrymen from the Island of Thule. In this context, Thule refers vaguely to England, and the new Varangians were a group of English and Danes who escaped the rule of the Norman conqueror. The practices of pilgrimage and piracy had interconnected various lands; these exiles were welcomed at the Byzantine court, and they maintained, until the final days of the empire, their legacy of unwavering loyalty and the use of the Danish or English language. Armed with their broad, double-edged battle-axes, they accompanied the Greek emperor to the temple, the senate, and the hippodrome; he slept and feasted under their reliable guard, with the keys to the palace, treasury, and city entrusted to the strong and faithful hands of the Varangians.

In the tenth century, the geography of Scythia was extended far beyond the limits of ancient knowledge; and the monarchy of the Russians obtains a vast and conspicuous place in the map of Constantine. The sons of Ruric were masters of the spacious province of Wolodomir, or Moscow; and, if they were confined on that side by the hordes of the East, their western frontier in those early days was enlarged to the Baltic Sea and the country of the Prussians. Their northern reign ascended above the sixtieth degree of latitude over the Hyperborean regions, which fancy had peopled with monsters, or clouded with eternal darkness. To the south they followed the course of the Borysthenes, and approached with that river the neighborhood of the Euxine Sea. The tribes that dwelt, or wandered, in this ample circuit were obedient to the same conqueror, and insensibly blended into the same nation. The language of Russia is a dialect of the Sclavonian; but in the tenth century, these two modes of speech were different from each other; and, as the Sclavonian prevailed in the South, it may be presumed that the original Russians of the North, the primitive subjects of the Varangian chief, were a portion of the Fennic race. With the emigration, union, or dissolution, of the wandering tribes, the loose and indefinite picture of the Scythian desert has continually shifted. But the most ancient map of Russia affords some places which still retain their name and position; and the two capitals, Novogorod and Kiow, are coeval with the first age of the monarchy. Novogorod had not yet deserved the epithet of great, nor the alliance of the Hanseatic League, which diffused the streams of opulence and the principles of freedom. Kiow could not yet boast of three hundred churches, an innumerable people, and a degree of greatness and splendor which was compared with Constantinople by those who had never seen the residence of the Cæsars. In their origin, the two cities were no more than camps or fairs, the most convenient stations in which the Barbarians might assemble for the occasional business of war or trade. Yet even these assemblies announce some progress in the arts of society; a new breed of cattle was imported from the southern provinces; and the spirit of commercial enterprise pervaded the sea and land, from the Baltic to the Euxine, from the mouth of the Oder to the port of Constantinople. In the days of idolatry and barbarism, the Sclavonic city of Julin was frequented and enriched by the Normans, who had prudently secured a free mart of purchase and exchange. From this harbor, at the entrance of the Oder, the corsair, or merchant, sailed in forty-three days to the eastern shores of the Baltic, the most distant nations were intermingled, and the holy groves of Curland are said to have been decorated with Grecian and Spanish gold. Between the sea and Novogorod an easy intercourse was discovered; in the summer, through a gulf, a lake, and a navigable river; in the winter season, over the hard and level surface of boundless snows. From the neighborhood of that city, the Russians descended the streams that fall into the Borysthenes; their canoes, of a single tree, were laden with slaves of every age, furs of every species, the spoil of their beehives, and the hides of their cattle; and the whole produce of the North was collected and discharged in the magazines of Kiow. The month of June was the ordinary season of the departure of the fleet: the timber of the canoes was framed into the oars and benches of more solid and capacious boats; and they proceeded without obstacle down the Borysthenes, as far as the seven or thirteen ridges of rocks, which traverse the bed, and precipitate the waters, of the river. At the more shallow falls it was sufficient to lighten the vessels; but the deeper cataracts were impassable; and the mariners, who dragged their vessels and their slaves six miles over land, were exposed in this toilsome journey to the robbers of the desert. At the first island below the falls, the Russians celebrated the festival of their escape: at a second, near the mouth of the river, they repaired their shattered vessels for the longer and more perilous voyage of the Black Sea. If they steered along the coast, the Danube was accessible; with a fair wind they could reach in thirty-six or forty hours the opposite shores of Anatolia; and Constantinople admitted the annual visit of the strangers of the North. They returned at the stated season with a rich cargo of corn, wine, and oil, the manufactures of Greece, and the spices of India. Some of their countrymen resided in the capital and provinces; and the national treaties protected the persons, effects, and privileges, of the Russian merchant.

In the tenth century, the geography of Scythia expanded well beyond what was previously known, and the Russian monarchy held a significant place on the map of Constantine. The sons of Ruric controlled the large province of Wolodomir, or Moscow; while they faced the eastern hordes, their western border stretched to the Baltic Sea and the land of the Prussians. Their domain reached north above the sixtieth degree of latitude into mythical Hyperborean lands, which were imagined to be filled with monsters or shrouded in eternal darkness. To the south, they followed the route of the Borysthenes River toward the Euxine Sea. The tribes living and roaming within this vast area were ruled by the same leader and gradually merged into one nation. The Russian language is a dialect of Sclavonian; however, in the tenth century, these two languages were distinct. Since Sclavonian was dominant in the South, it’s likely that the original Russians of the North, the early subjects of the Varangian chief, were a part of the Fennic people. With the migration, joining, or disbanding of roaming tribes, the vague and shifting depiction of the Scythian wilderness has constantly changed. Nonetheless, the oldest map of Russia shows some places that still retain their names and locations, with the two capitals, Novogorod and Kiow, dating back to the early monarchy. Novogorod hadn’t yet earned the title of "great" or formed the alliance with the Hanseatic League, which brought wealth and the values of freedom. Kiow couldn’t yet claim to have three hundred churches, a countless population, and a level of greatness and splendor that some compared to Constantinople, despite never having seen the home of the Caesars. Originally, the two cities served merely as camps or fairs, convenient spots for Barbarians to gather for occasional trade or warfare. Yet, even these gatherings signified some advancement in social arts; a new breed of cattle was brought in from the southern provinces, and the spirit of trade spread across land and sea, from the Baltic to the Euxine, and from the mouth of the Oder to the port of Constantinople. In the times of idolatry and barbarism, the Sclavonic city of Julin thrived as it was frequented and enriched by the Normans, who wisely secured a free market for buying and selling. From this port at the mouth of the Oder, merchants could sail to the eastern shores of the Baltic in forty-three days, connecting distant nations, and the sacred groves of Curland are said to have been adorned with Grecian and Spanish gold. An easy trade route was established between the sea and Novogorod; in the summer, via a gulf, a lake, and a navigable river; in winter, over the flat and solid surface of endless snow. From the area near that city, Russians traveled down the rivers leading into the Borysthenes; their canoes, made from a single tree, carried slaves of all ages, a variety of furs, honey, and animal hides; and all the goods of the North were gathered and stored in Kiow. June was the typical time for the fleet to depart: the wood from the canoes was used to create oars and benches for larger, sturdier boats; and they smoothly navigated down the Borysthenes to the seven or thirteen rocky ridges that obstructed the river and caused the waters to cascade. At the shallower falls, they only needed to lighten their loads, but deeper waterfalls were impassable; mariners had to drag their boats and slaves six miles overland, exposing them to desert robbers during this arduous journey. At the first island below the falls, the Russians celebrated their escape; at a second, closer to the river's mouth, they repaired their damaged vessels for the longer and riskier trip across the Black Sea. If they traveled along the coast, the Danube was reachable; with favorable winds, they could reach the shores of Anatolia in thirty-six to forty hours, and Constantinople welcomed the northern visitors each year. They returned at the designated time with rich shipments of grain, wine, and oil, along with goods from Greece and spices from India. Some of their countrymen settled in the capital and its provinces, and the national treaties safeguarded the rights, belongings, and privileges of Russian merchants.





Chapter LV: The Bulgarians, The Hungarians And The Russians.—Part III.

But the same communication which had been opened for the benefit, was soon abused for the injury, of mankind. In a period of one hundred and ninety years, the Russians made four attempts to plunder the treasures of Constantinople: the event was various, but the motive, the means, and the object, were the same in these naval expeditions. The Russian traders had seen the magnificence, and tasted the luxury of the city of the Cæsars. A marvellous tale, and a scanty supply, excited the desires of their savage countrymen: they envied the gifts of nature which their climate denied; they coveted the works of art, which they were too lazy to imitate and too indigent to purchase; the Varangian princes unfurled the banners of piratical adventure, and their bravest soldiers were drawn from the nations that dwelt in the northern isles of the ocean. The image of their naval armaments was revived in the last century, in the fleets of the Cossacks, which issued from the Borysthenes, to navigate the same seas for a similar purpose. The Greek appellation of monoxyla, or single canoes, might justly be applied to the bottom of their vessels. It was scooped out of the long stem of a beech or willow, but the slight and narrow foundation was raised and continued on either side with planks, till it attained the length of sixty, and the height of about twelve, feet. These boats were built without a deck, but with two rudders and a mast; to move with sails and oars; and to contain from forty to seventy men, with their arms, and provisions of fresh water and salt fish. The first trial of the Russians was made with two hundred boats; but when the national force was exerted, they might arm against Constantinople a thousand or twelve hundred vessels. Their fleet was not much inferior to the royal navy of Agamemnon, but it was magnified in the eyes of fear to ten or fifteen times the real proportion of its strength and numbers. Had the Greek emperors been endowed with foresight to discern, and vigor to prevent, perhaps they might have sealed with a maritime force the mouth of the Borysthenes. Their indolence abandoned the coast of Anatolia to the calamities of a piratical war, which, after an interval of six hundred years, again infested the Euxine; but as long as the capital was respected, the sufferings of a distant province escaped the notice both of the prince and the historian. The storm which had swept along from the Phasis and Trebizond, at length burst on the Bosphorus of Thrace; a strait of fifteen miles, in which the rude vessels of the Russians might have been stopped and destroyed by a more skilful adversary. In their first enterprise under the princes of Kiow, they passed without opposition, and occupied the port of Constantinople in the absence of the emperor Michael, the son of Theophilus. Through a crowd of perils, he landed at the palace-stairs, and immediately repaired to a church of the Virgin Mary. By the advice of the patriarch, her garment, a precious relic, was drawn from the sanctuary and dipped in the sea; and a seasonable tempest, which determined the retreat of the Russians, was devoutly ascribed to the mother of God. The silence of the Greeks may inspire some doubt of the truth, or at least of the importance, of the second attempt by Oleg, the guardian of the sons of Ruric. A strong barrier of arms and fortifications defended the Bosphorus: they were eluded by the usual expedient of drawing the boats over the isthmus; and this simple operation is described in the national chronicles, as if the Russian fleet had sailed over dry land with a brisk and favorable gale. The leader of the third armament, Igor, the son of Ruric, had chosen a moment of weakness and decay, when the naval powers of the empire were employed against the Saracens. But if courage be not wanting, the instruments of defence are seldom deficient. Fifteen broken and decayed galleys were boldly launched against the enemy; but instead of the single tube of Greek fire usually planted on the prow, the sides and stern of each vessel were abundantly supplied with that liquid combustible. The engineers were dexterous; the weather was propitious; many thousand Russians, who chose rather to be drowned than burnt, leaped into the sea; and those who escaped to the Thracian shore were inhumanly slaughtered by the peasants and soldiers. Yet one third of the canoes escaped into shallow water; and the next spring Igor was again prepared to retrieve his disgrace and claim his revenge. After a long peace, Jaroslaus, the great grandson of Igor, resumed the same project of a naval invasion. A fleet, under the command of his son, was repulsed at the entrance of the Bosphorus by the same artificial flames. But in the rashness of pursuit, the vanguard of the Greeks was encompassed by an irresistible multitude of boats and men; their provision of fire was probably exhausted; and twenty-four galleys were either taken, sunk, or destroyed.

But the same communication that was opened for the benefit of mankind was soon misused to their detriment. Over a span of one hundred and ninety years, the Russians attempted four times to loot the treasures of Constantinople. The events varied, but the motives, means, and goals of these naval expeditions remained the same. Russian traders had witnessed the splendor and indulged in the luxury of the city of the Caesars. A fascinating story and a limited supply fueled the desires of their savage countrymen; they envied the gifts of nature that their climate denied them and longed for the artworks they were too lazy to replicate and too poor to buy. The Varangian princes raised the banners of piracy, and their bravest soldiers came from the northern islands of the ocean. The image of their naval forces reemerged in the last century with the Cossack fleets that set out from the Borysthenes to navigate the same seas for a similar purpose. The Greek term monoxyla, or single canoes, could accurately describe the hulls of their vessels. They were carved from the long trunk of a beech or willow, but the slender and narrow base was extended on either side with planks, reaching a length of about sixty and a height of around twelve feet. These boats were built without a deck, featuring two rudders, a mast, and were designed to move with both sails and oars, accommodating forty to seventy men along with their weapons and supplies of fresh water and salted fish. The Russians’ first attempt involved two hundred boats; however, when fully mobilized, they could wield a force of a thousand to twelve hundred vessels against Constantinople. Their fleet was nearly on par with the royal navy of Agamemnon, yet fear inflated its perceived strength to ten or fifteen times its actual size. If the Greek emperors had possessed the foresight to recognize and the resolve to act, they might have sealed the mouth of the Borysthenes with a naval force. Their laziness allowed the coast of Anatolia to fall victim to the ravages of piracy that, after six hundred years, plagued the Euxine once more; but as long as the capital remained safe, the suffering of a distant province went unnoticed by both the ruler and the historian. The storm that swept from Phasis and Trebizond eventually struck the Bosphorus of Thrace, a fifteen-mile strait where the primitive ships of the Russians could have been halted and destroyed by a more skilled opponent. In their first enterprise under the princes of Kiow, they passed without opposition and seized the port of Constantinople in the absence of Emperor Michael, the son of Theophilus. After facing many dangers, he landed at the palace steps and immediately went to a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary. At the recommendation of the patriarch, her robe, a treasured relic, was taken from the sanctuary and dipped in the sea; and a timely storm that forced the Russians to retreat was devoutly attributed to the Mother of God. The silence of the Greeks may cast some doubt on the truth or at least the significance of the second attempt by Oleg, the guardian of the sons of Ruric. A strong barrier of arms and fortifications protected the Bosphorus; they were circumvented by the usual tactic of dragging the boats over the isthmus, described in national chronicles as if the Russian fleet had sailed over dry land with a favorable wind. The leader of the third expedition, Igor, the son of Ruric, picked a moment of weakness and decline, when the empire's naval forces were engaged with the Saracens. But if courage is present, means of defense are rarely lacking. Fifteen broken and dilapidated galleys were boldly sent against the enemy; instead of just one Greek fire tube usually mounted on the prow, the flanks and stern of each ship were abundantly outfitted with that volatile liquid. The engineers were skilled, the weather was favorable; many thousands of Russians, preferring drowning to burning, jumped into the sea; and those who reached the Thracian shore were brutally slaughtered by the local peasants and soldiers. Yet one-third of the canoes made it to shallow waters; and the next spring, Igor was ready to reclaim his honor and seek revenge. After a long period of peace, Jaroslaus, Igor’s great-grandson, revived the same idea of a naval invasion. A fleet under his son's command was repelled at the Bosphorus’s entrance by the same fiery traps. But in the recklessness of pursuit, the Greek vanguard was surrounded by an overwhelming number of boats and men; their supply of fire was likely depleted; and twenty-four galleys were either captured, sunk, or destroyed.

Yet the threats or calamities of a Russian war were more frequently diverted by treaty than by arms. In these naval hostilities, every disadvantage was on the side of the Greeks; their savage enemy afforded no mercy: his poverty promised no spoil; his impenetrable retreat deprived the conqueror of the hopes of revenge; and the pride or weakness of empire indulged an opinion, that no honor could be gained or lost in the intercourse with Barbarians. At first their demands were high and inadmissible, three pounds of gold for each soldier or mariner of the fleet: the Russian youth adhered to the design of conquest and glory; but the counsels of moderation were recommended by the hoary sages. "Be content," they said, "with the liberal offers of Cæsar; is it not far better to obtain without a combat the possession of gold, silver, silks, and all the objects of our desires? Are we sure of victory? Can we conclude a treaty with the sea? We do not tread on the land; we float on the abyss of water, and a common death hangs over our heads." The memory of these Arctic fleets that seemed to descend from the polar circle left deep impression of terror on the Imperial city. By the vulgar of every rank, it was asserted and believed, that an equestrian statue in the square of Taurus was secretly inscribed with a prophecy, how the Russians, in the last days, should become masters of Constantinople. In our own time, a Russian armament, instead of sailing from the Borysthenes, has circumnavigated the continent of Europe; and the Turkish capital has been threatened by a squadron of strong and lofty ships of war, each of which, with its naval science and thundering artillery, could have sunk or scattered a hundred canoes, such as those of their ancestors. Perhaps the present generation may yet behold the accomplishment of the prediction, of a rare prediction, of which the style is unambiguous and the date unquestionable.

Yet the threats or disasters of a Russian war were more often avoided by treaties than by fighting. In these naval conflicts, the Greeks were at a disadvantage; their ruthless enemy showed no mercy: his poverty offered no spoils, his tough hideaway robbed the conqueror of any hopes for revenge, and the arrogance or frailty of empire led to the belief that no honor could be gained or lost in dealings with barbarians. Initially, their demands were high and unacceptable, three pounds of gold for each soldier or sailor of the fleet: the Russian youth were focused on conquest and glory; however, wise elders recommended moderation. "Be satisfied," they said, "with Caesar's generous offers; isn’t it better to gain gold, silver, silks, and all our desires without fighting? Can we be sure of victory? Can we negotiate with the sea? We aren’t stepping on land; we’re floating on an endless ocean, and a common death looms above us." The memory of these Arctic fleets, seemingly emerging from the polar circle, left a lasting impression of fear on the Imperial city. People of all classes claimed and believed that an equestrian statue in the Taurus square secretly bore a prophecy about how the Russians would, in the end, become masters of Constantinople. In our time, a Russian armada, rather than setting out from the Borysthenes, has sailed all around Europe; and the Turkish capital has been threatened by a squadron of powerful and towering warships, each capable of sinking or scattering a hundred canoes like those of their ancestors. Perhaps the current generation will still witness the fulfillment of that memorable prophecy, a rare one with a clear message and undoubted date.

By land the Russians were less formidable than by sea; and as they fought for the most part on foot, their irregular legions must often have been broken and overthrown by the cavalry of the Scythian hordes. Yet their growing towns, however slight and imperfect, presented a shelter to the subject, and a barrier to the enemy: the monarchy of Kiow, till a fatal partition, assumed the dominion of the North; and the nations from the Volga to the Danube were subdued or repelled by the arms of Swatoslaus, the son of Igor, the son of Oleg, the son of Ruric. The vigor of his mind and body was fortified by the hardships of a military and savage life. Wrapped in a bear-skin, Swatoslaus usually slept on the ground, his head reclining on a saddle; his diet was coarse and frugal, and, like the heroes of Homer, his meat (it was often horse-flesh) was broiled or roasted on the coals. The exercise of war gave stability and discipline to his army; and it may be presumed, that no soldier was permitted to transcend the luxury of his chief. By an embassy from Nicephorus, the Greek emperor, he was moved to undertake the conquest of Bulgaria; and a gift of fifteen hundred pounds of gold was laid at his feet to defray the expense, or reward the toils, of the expedition. An army of sixty thousand men was assembled and embarked; they sailed from the Borysthenes to the Danube; their landing was effected on the Mæsian shore; and, after a sharp encounter, the swords of the Russians prevailed against the arrows of the Bulgarian horse. The vanquished king sunk into the grave; his children were made captive; and his dominions, as far as Mount Hæmus, were subdued or ravaged by the northern invaders. But instead of relinquishing his prey, and performing his engagements, the Varangian prince was more disposed to advance than to retire; and, had his ambition been crowned with success, the seat of empire in that early period might have been transferred to a more temperate and fruitful climate. Swatoslaus enjoyed and acknowledged the advantages of his new position, in which he could unite, by exchange or rapine, the various productions of the earth. By an easy navigation he might draw from Russia the native commodities of furs, wax, and hydromel: Hungary supplied him with a breed of horses and the spoils of the West; and Greece abounded with gold, silver, and the foreign luxuries, which his poverty had affected to disdain. The bands of Patzinacites, Chozars, and Turks, repaired to the standard of victory; and the ambassador of Nicephorus betrayed his trust, assumed the purple, and promised to share with his new allies the treasures of the Eastern world. From the banks of the Danube the Russian prince pursued his march as far as Adrianople; a formal summons to evacuate the Roman province was dismissed with contempt; and Swatoslaus fiercely replied, that Constantinople might soon expect the presence of an enemy and a master.

By land, the Russians were not as powerful as they were at sea, and since they mostly fought on foot, their irregular forces were often defeated by the cavalry of the Scythian tribes. However, their growing towns, though small and imperfect, offered protection to their people and a barrier against invaders: the kingdom of Kiow, until a disastrous division, held sway over the North; and Swatoslaus, the son of Igor, the son of Oleg, the son of Ruric, conquered or pushed back the nations from the Volga to the Danube. His strong mind and body were strengthened by the challenges of a military and rugged life. Wrapped in a bear-skin, Swatoslaus typically slept on the ground, with his head resting on a saddle; his diet was simple and sparse, and, like the heroes of Homer, his meat (which often included horse-flesh) was cooked over the coals. The demands of warfare instilled stability and discipline in his army, and it is likely that no soldier enjoyed more luxury than his leader. An embassy from Nicephorus, the Greek ruler, inspired him to take on the conquest of Bulgaria; a gift of fifteen hundred pounds of gold was presented to help cover the costs or reward the efforts of the campaign. An army of sixty thousand men was gathered and set sail; they traveled from the Borysthenes to the Danube; they landed on the Mæsian shore, and after an intense battle, the swords of the Russians triumphed over the arrows of the Bulgarian cavalry. The defeated king fell, his children were captured, and his lands, up to Mount Hæmus, were conquered or ravaged by the northern invaders. But instead of giving up his gains and fulfilling his commitments, the Varangian prince was more eager to advance than to retreat; had his ambition succeeded, the center of power in that early time might have shifted to a milder and more fertile climate. Swatoslaus recognized and enjoyed the benefits of his new position, where he could gather, through trade or plunder, the diverse products of the land. Through easy navigation, he could import native commodities like furs, wax, and mead from Russia; Hungary provided him with horses and spoils from the West; and Greece was rich in gold, silver, and exotic luxuries that he had previously claimed to disdain due to poverty. The groups of Patzinacites, Chozars, and Turks flocked to his banner of victory; and the ambassador of Nicephorus betrayed his mission, took up the imperial purple, and promised to share the wealth of the Eastern world with his new allies. From the banks of the Danube, the Russian prince advanced as far as Adrianople; a formal demand to vacate the Roman province was dismissed with contempt, and Swatoslaus harshly declared that Constantinople could soon expect an enemy and a ruler.

Nicephorus could no longer expel the mischief which he had introduced; but his throne and wife were inherited by John Zimisces, who, in a diminutive body, possessed the spirit and abilities of a hero. The first victory of his lieutenants deprived the Russians of their foreign allies, twenty thousand of whom were either destroyed by the sword, or provoked to revolt, or tempted to desert. Thrace was delivered, but seventy thousand Barbarians were still in arms; and the legions that had been recalled from the new conquests of Syria, prepared, with the return of the spring, to march under the banners of a warlike prince, who declared himself the friend and avenger of the injured Bulgaria. The passes of Mount Hæmus had been left unguarded; they were instantly occupied; the Roman vanguard was formed of the immortals, (a proud imitation of the Persian style;) the emperor led the main body of ten thousand five hundred foot; and the rest of his forces followed in slow and cautious array, with the baggage and military engines. The first exploit of Zimisces was the reduction of Marcianopolis, or Peristhlaba, in two days; the trumpets sounded; the walls were scaled; eight thousand five hundred Russians were put to the sword; and the sons of the Bulgarian king were rescued from an ignominious prison, and invested with a nominal diadem. After these repeated losses, Swatoslaus retired to the strong post of Drista, on the banks of the Danube, and was pursued by an enemy who alternately employed the arms of celerity and delay. The Byzantine galleys ascended the river, the legions completed a line of circumvallation; and the Russian prince was encompassed, assaulted, and famished, in the fortifications of the camp and city. Many deeds of valor were performed; several desperate sallies were attempted; nor was it till after a siege of sixty-five days that Swatoslaus yielded to his adverse fortune. The liberal terms which he obtained announce the prudence of the victor, who respected the valor, and apprehended the despair, of an unconquered mind. The great duke of Russia bound himself, by solemn imprecations, to relinquish all hostile designs; a safe passage was opened for his return; the liberty of trade and navigation was restored; a measure of corn was distributed to each of his soldiers; and the allowance of twenty-two thousand measures attests the loss and the remnant of the Barbarians. After a painful voyage, they again reached the mouth of the Borysthenes; but their provisions were exhausted; the season was unfavorable; they passed the winter on the ice; and, before they could prosecute their march, Swatoslaus was surprised and oppressed by the neighboring tribes with whom the Greeks entertained a perpetual and useful correspondence. Far different was the return of Zimisces, who was received in his capital like Camillus or Marius, the saviors of ancient Rome. But the merit of the victory was attributed by the pious emperor to the mother of God; and the image of the Virgin Mary, with the divine infant in her arms, was placed on a triumphal car, adorned with the spoils of war, and the ensigns of Bulgarian royalty. Zimisces made his public entry on horseback; the diadem on his head, a crown of laurel in his hand; and Constantinople was astonished to applaud the martial virtues of her sovereign.

Nicephorus could no longer get rid of the trouble he had caused; instead, his throne and wife were taken over by John Zimisces, who, despite being small in stature, had the spirit and skills of a hero. The first win of his commanders cut off the Russians from their foreign allies, twenty thousand of whom were either killed in battle, stirred to revolt, or tempted to desert. Thrace was freed, but seventy thousand Barbarians were still armed; the legions that had been brought back from the new conquests in Syria were preparing to march under the banners of a warrior prince, who declared himself the ally and avenger of the wronged Bulgaria. The passes of Mount Hæmus had been left unguarded; they were immediately taken; the Roman vanguard was made up of the immortals (a proud imitation of the Persian style); the emperor led the main force of ten thousand five hundred infantry; and the rest of his troops followed in a slow and cautious formation, carrying the baggage and military equipment. Zimisces’s first achievement was the capture of Marcianopolis, or Peristhlaba, in just two days; the trumpets sounded; the walls were scaled; eight thousand five hundred Russians were killed; and the sons of the Bulgarian king were freed from a shameful prison and given a nominal crown. After these repeated defeats, Swatoslaus retreated to the stronghold of Drista on the banks of the Danube, while facing an enemy that alternated between swift attacks and slow tactics. The Byzantine ships sailed up the river, and the legions formed a line of siege; the Russian prince was surrounded, attacked, and starved in the defenses of the camp and city. Many acts of bravery were carried out; several desperate attempts to break free were made; and it wasn’t until after a sixty-five-day siege that Swatoslaus surrendered to his unfavorable situation. The generous terms he received show the wisdom of the victor, who respected the bravery and understood the despair of an unconquered spirit. The great duke of Russia pledged, with solemn oaths, to abandon all hostile plans; a safe route was provided for his return; trade and navigation were restored; a measure of grain was distributed to each of his soldiers; and the allocation of twenty-two thousand measures indicates the losses and the remnants of the Barbarians. After a difficult journey, they finally reached the mouth of the Borysthenes; however, their supplies were gone; the season was bad; they spent the winter on the ice; and, before they could continue their journey, Swatoslaus was ambushed and overwhelmed by the neighboring tribes with whom the Greeks had a constant and beneficial relationship. In stark contrast was the return of Zimisces, who was welcomed in his capital like Camillus or Marius, the saviors of ancient Rome. But the pious emperor credited the victory to the Mother of God; the image of the Virgin Mary, holding the divine infant in her arms, was placed on a triumphal chariot, decorated with the spoils of war and the symbols of Bulgarian royalty. Zimisces made his public entrance on horseback, wearing the crown and holding a laurel wreath; and Constantinople was amazed to celebrate the martial qualities of her sovereign.

Photius of Constantinople, a patriarch, whose ambition was equal to his curiosity, congratulates himself and the Greek church on the conversion of the Russians. Those fierce and bloody Barbarians had been persuaded, by the voice of reason and religion, to acknowledge Jesus for their God, the Christian missionaries for their teachers, and the Romans for their friends and brethren. His triumph was transient and premature. In the various fortune of their piratical adventures, some Russian chiefs might allow themselves to be sprinkled with the waters of baptism; and a Greek bishop, with the name of metropolitan, might administer the sacraments in the church of Kiow, to a congregation of slaves and natives. But the seed of the gospel was sown on a barren soil: many were the apostates, the converts were few; and the baptism of Olga may be fixed as the æra of Russian Christianity. A female, perhaps of the basest origin, who could revenge the death, and assume the sceptre, of her husband Igor, must have been endowed with those active virtues which command the fear and obedience of Barbarians. In a moment of foreign and domestic peace, she sailed from Kiow to Constantinople; and the emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus has described, with minute diligence, the ceremonial of her reception in his capital and palace. The steps, the titles, the salutations, the banquet, the presents, were exquisitely adjusted to gratify the vanity of the stranger, with due reverence to the superior majesty of the purple. In the sacrament of baptism, she received the venerable name of the empress Helena; and her conversion might be preceded or followed by her uncle, two interpreters, sixteen damsels of a higher, and eighteen of a lower rank, twenty-two domestics or ministers, and forty-four Russian merchants, who composed the retinue of the great princess Olga. After her return to Kiow and Novogorod, she firmly persisted in her new religion; but her labors in the propagation of the gospel were not crowned with success; and both her family and nation adhered with obstinacy or indifference to the gods of their fathers. Her son Swatoslaus was apprehensive of the scorn and ridicule of his companions; and her grandson Wolodomir devoted his youthful zeal to multiply and decorate the monuments of ancient worship. The savage deities of the North were still propitiated with human sacrifices: in the choice of the victim, a citizen was preferred to a stranger, a Christian to an idolater; and the father, who defended his son from the sacerdotal knife, was involved in the same doom by the rage of a fanatic tumult. Yet the lessons and example of the pious Olga had made a deep, though secret, impression in the minds of the prince and people: the Greek missionaries continued to preach, to dispute, and to baptize: and the ambassadors or merchants of Russia compared the idolatry of the woods with the elegant superstition of Constantinople. They had gazed with admiration on the dome of St. Sophia: the lively pictures of saints and martyrs, the riches of the altar, the number and vestments of the priests, the pomp and order of the ceremonies; they were edified by the alternate succession of devout silence and harmonious song; nor was it difficult to persuade them, that a choir of angels descended each day from heaven to join in the devotion of the Christians. But the conversion of Wolodomir was determined, or hastened, by his desire of a Roman bride. At the same time, and in the city of Cherson, the rites of baptism and marriage were celebrated by the Christian pontiff: the city he restored to the emperor Basil, the brother of his spouse; but the brazen gates were transported, as it is said, to Novogorod, and erected before the first church as a trophy of his victory and faith. At his despotic command, Peround, the god of thunder, whom he had so long adored, was dragged through the streets of Kiow; and twelve sturdy Barbarians battered with clubs the misshapen image, which was indignantly cast into the waters of the Borysthenes. The edict of Wolodomir had proclaimed, that all who should refuse the rites of baptism would be treated as the enemies of God and their prince; and the rivers were instantly filled with many thousands of obedient Russians, who acquiesced in the truth and excellence of a doctrine which had been embraced by the great duke and his boyars. In the next generation, the relics of Paganism were finally extirpated; but as the two brothers of Wolodomir had died without baptism, their bones were taken from the grave, and sanctified by an irregular and posthumous sacrament.

Photius of Constantinople, a patriarch whose ambition matched his curiosity, praised himself and the Greek church for converting the Russians. Those fierce and violent barbarians had been convinced, through reason and religion, to accept Jesus as their God, Christian missionaries as their teachers, and the Romans as their friends and allies. His triumph was short-lived and premature. While some Russian leaders might have allowed themselves to be baptized during their raiding escapades, and a Greek bishop, called metropolitan, might have administered sacraments in the church of Kiow to a congregation of slaves and locals, the gospel's message was planted on barren ground: many fell away from the faith, and only a few truly converted; the baptism of Olga can be marked as the beginning of Russian Christianity. A woman of possibly low origin, who could avenge her husband Igor’s death and take his throne, must have possessed the qualities that command the fear and obedience of barbarians. In a moment of both foreign and domestic peace, she sailed from Kiow to Constantinople; and Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus described in great detail the ceremony of her reception in his capital and palace. The steps, titles, salutations, banquet, and gifts were perfectly arranged to satisfy the vanity of the guest, while still showing proper respect to the emperor's majesty. In the baptism, she received the respected name of Empress Helena; her conversion was possibly preceded or followed by her uncle, two interpreters, sixteen noble women, eighteen of lower rank, twenty-two servants or attendants, and forty-four Russian merchants who accompanied the great princess Olga. After returning to Kiow and Novgorod, she remained steadfast in her new faith; however, her efforts to spread the gospel were not successful, and both her family and her people clung stubbornly to the gods of their ancestors. Her son Swatoslaus feared the ridicule of his peers, and her grandson Wolodomir devoted his youthful energy to enhancing the monuments of ancient worship. The brutal deities of the North were still appeased with human sacrifices; when choosing a victim, they preferred a local citizen over a stranger and a Christian over an idolater; and a father who tried to save his son from the priest’s knife met a similar fate due to the fury of a fanatical mob. Yet, the teachings and example of the devout Olga left a lasting, albeit hidden, impact on the minds of the prince and the people: Greek missionaries continued to preach, debate, and baptize, and the Russian envoys or merchants compared the idolatry of the forests with the sophisticated superstition of Constantinople. They admired the dome of St. Sophia, the vivid depictions of saints and martyrs, the riches on the altar, the numbers and garments of the priests, and the grandeur and order of the ceremonies. They found inspiration in the alternating moments of devout silence and harmonious singing; it was easy to convince them that a choir of angels descended from heaven each day to join the Christians in worship. But Wolodomir's conversion was driven, or quickened, by his wish for a Roman bride. Simultaneously, in the city of Cherson, the Christian bishop performed both the baptism and marriage rites: he returned the city to Emperor Basil, the brother of his wife; but the bronze gates were reportedly taken to Novgorod and set up in front of the first church as a trophy of his victory and faith. By his commanding order, Peround, the god of thunder whom he had long worshipped, was dragged through the streets of Kiow, and twelve strong barbarians smashed the misshapen statue with clubs, which was then indignantly thrown into the waters of the Borysthenes. Wolodomir’s decree stated that anyone refusing baptism would be treated as an enemy of God and their prince; and soon, the rivers were filled with thousands of obedient Russians who accepted the truth and goodness of a faith that had been embraced by the great duke and his boyars. In the next generation, remnants of paganism were completely eradicated; however, because Wolodomir's two brothers died without baptism, their remains were exhumed and sanctified through an irregular and posthumous sacrament.

In the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries of the Christian æra, the reign of the gospel and of the church was extended over Bulgaria, Hungary, Bohemia, Saxony, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Poland, and Russia. The triumphs of apostolic zeal were repeated in the iron age of Christianity; and the northern and eastern regions of Europe submitted to a religion, more different in theory than in practice, from the worship of their native idols. A laudable ambition excited the monks both of Germany and Greece, to visit the tents and huts of the Barbarians: poverty, hardships, and dangers, were the lot of the first missionaries; their courage was active and patient; their motive pure and meritorious; their present reward consisted in the testimony of their conscience and the respect of a grateful people; but the fruitful harvest of their toils was inherited and enjoyed by the proud and wealthy prelates of succeeding times. The first conversions were free and spontaneous: a holy life and an eloquent tongue were the only arms of the missionaries; but the domestic fables of the Pagans were silenced by the miracles and visions of the strangers; and the favorable temper of the chiefs was accelerated by the dictates of vanity and interest. The leaders of nations, who were saluted with the titles of kings and saints, held it lawful and pious to impose the Catholic faith on their subjects and neighbors; the coast of the Baltic, from Holstein to the Gulf of Finland, was invaded under the standard of the cross; and the reign of idolatry was closed by the conversion of Lithuania in the fourteenth century. Yet truth and candor must acknowledge, that the conversion of the North imparted many temporal benefits both to the old and the new Christians. The rage of war, inherent to the human species, could not be healed by the evangelic precepts of charity and peace; and the ambition of Catholic princes has renewed in every age the calamities of hostile contention. But the admission of the Barbarians into the pale of civil and ecclesiastical society delivered Europe from the depredations, by sea and land, of the Normans, the Hungarians, and the Russians, who learned to spare their brethren and cultivate their possessions. The establishment of law and order was promoted by the influence of the clergy; and the rudiments of art and science were introduced into the savage countries of the globe. The liberal piety of the Russian princes engaged in their service the most skilful of the Greeks, to decorate the cities and instruct the inhabitants: the dome and the paintings of St. Sophia were rudely copied in the churches of Kiow and Novogorod: the writings of the fathers were translated into the Sclavonic idiom; and three hundred noble youths were invited or compelled to attend the lessons of the college of Jaroslaus. It should appear that Russia might have derived an early and rapid improvement from her peculiar connection with the church and state of Constantinople, which at that age so justly despised the ignorance of the Latins. But the Byzantine nation was servile, solitary, and verging to a hasty decline: after the fall of Kiow, the navigation of the Borysthenes was forgotten; the great princes of Wolodomir and Moscow were separated from the sea and Christendom; and the divided monarchy was oppressed by the ignominy and blindness of Tartar servitude. The Sclavonic and Scandinavian kingdoms, which had been converted by the Latin missionaries, were exposed, it is true, to the spiritual jurisdiction and temporal claims of the popes; but they were united in language and religious worship, with each other, and with Rome; they imbibed the free and generous spirit of the European republic, and gradually shared the light of knowledge which arose on the western world.

In the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries of the Christian era, the influence of the gospel and the church spread to Bulgaria, Hungary, Bohemia, Saxony, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Poland, and Russia. The successes of early missionary effort were repeated during the tough times of Christianity; the northern and eastern parts of Europe turned to a religion that was more different in theory than in practice from their traditional idol worship. A commendable desire drove the monks from both Germany and Greece to explore the homes and camps of the non-Christians: poverty, hardships, and dangers were what the early missionaries faced; their courage was both active and enduring; their motives were pure and worthy; their immediate rewards came from the peace of mind from their conscience and the respect from a grateful people; however, the real benefits of their hardships were enjoyed by the proud and wealthy church leaders of later times. The initial conversions were voluntary and heartfelt: a holy life and persuasive speech were the only tools the missionaries had; but the local myths of the Pagans were overshadowed by the miracles and visions of the newcomers; and the favorable outlook of the leaders was boosted by vanity and personal gain. The national leaders, who were referred to as kings and saints, believed it was acceptable and righteous to impose the Catholic faith on their subjects and neighbors; the Baltic coast, from Holstein to the Gulf of Finland, was invaded under the cross; and the era of idol worship ended with the conversion of Lithuania in the fourteenth century. Yet, it's necessary to acknowledge that the conversion of the North brought many material benefits to both the old and new Christians. The violent nature of humanity could not be resolved by the gospel’s lessons of love and peace; and the ambitions of Catholic rulers have continuously renewed the horrors of conflict. But bringing the non-Christians into the folds of civil and religious society protected Europe from the raiding, both by sea and land, of the Normans, Hungarians, and Russians, who began to spare their fellow humans and take care of their lands. The establishment of law and order was encouraged by the clergy’s influence; and the basics of art and science were introduced into the wild regions of the world. The generous spirit of the Russian princes brought the most talented Greeks to serve them, to beautify their cities and educate the people: the dome and paintings of St. Sophia were roughly copied in the churches of Kiev and Novgorod; the writings of the church fathers were translated into the Slavic language; and three hundred noble young men were either invited or forced to attend the college of Jaroslav. It seems that Russia could have experienced early and rapid progress from its unique ties with the church and state of Constantinople, which at that time justly looked down on the ignorance of the Latins. But the Byzantine empire was servile, isolated, and heading towards a rapid decline: after the fall of Kiev, navigation on the Dnieper was forgotten; the powerful princes of Vladimir and Moscow were cut off from the sea and Christendom; and the fragmented kingdom was weighed down by the shame and ignorance of Tartar oppression. The Slavic and Scandinavian kingdoms, which had been converted by Latin missionaries, although subjected to the spiritual authority and earthly claims of the popes, were united in language and religious practice with each other and with Rome; they absorbed the free and generous spirit of the European republic and gradually shared in the knowledge that was blossoming in the western world.





Chapter LVI: The Saracens, The Franks And The Normans.—Part I.

     The Saracens, Franks, And Greeks, In Italy.—First
     Adventures And Settlement Of The Normans.—Character And
     Conquest Of Robert Guiscard, Duke Of Apulia—Deliverance Of
     Sicily By His Brother Roger.—Victories Of Robert Over The
     Emperors Of The East And West.—Roger, King Of Sicily,
     Invades Africa And Greece.—The Emperor Manuel Comnenus.—
     Wars Of The Greeks And Normans.—Extinction Of The Normans.
     The Saracens, Franks, and Greeks in Italy. — The first adventures and settlement of the Normans. — The character and conquests of Robert Guiscard, Duke of Apulia. — The rescue of Sicily by his brother Roger. — Robert's victories over the Emperors of the East and West. — Roger, King of Sicily, invades Africa and Greece. — The Emperor Manuel Comnenus. — The wars between the Greeks and Normans. — The decline of the Normans.

The three great nations of the world, the Greeks, the Saracens, and the Franks, encountered each other on the theatre of Italy. The southern provinces, which now compose the kingdom of Naples, were subject, for the most part, to the Lombard dukes and princes of Beneventum; so powerful in war, that they checked for a moment the genius of Charlemagne; so liberal in peace, that they maintained in their capital an academy of thirty-two philosophers and grammarians. The division of this flourishing state produced the rival principalities of Benevento, Salerno, and Capua; and the thoughtless ambition or revenge of the competitors invited the Saracens to the ruin of their common inheritance. During a calamitous period of two hundred years, Italy was exposed to a repetition of wounds, which the invaders were not capable of healing by the union and tranquility of a perfect conquest. Their frequent and almost annual squadrons issued from the port of Palermo, and were entertained with too much indulgence by the Christians of Naples: the more formidable fleets were prepared on the African coast; and even the Arabs of Andalusia were sometimes tempted to assist or oppose the Moslems of an adverse sect. In the revolution of human events, a new ambuscade was concealed in the Caudine Forks, the fields of Cannæ were bedewed a second time with the blood of the Africans, and the sovereign of Rome again attacked or defended the walls of Capua and Tarentum. A colony of Saracens had been planted at Bari, which commands the entrance of the Adriatic Gulf; and their impartial depredations provoked the resentment, and conciliated the union of the two emperors. An offensive alliance was concluded between Basil the Macedonian, the first of his race, and Lewis the great-grandson of Charlemagne; and each party supplied the deficiencies of his associate. It would have been imprudent in the Byzantine monarch to transport his stationary troops of Asia to an Italian campaign; and the Latin arms would have been insufficient if his superior navy had not occupied the mouth of the Gulf. The fortress of Bari was invested by the infantry of the Franks, and by the cavalry and galleys of the Greeks; and, after a defence of four years, the Arabian emir submitted to the clemency of Lewis, who commanded in person the operations of the siege. This important conquest had been achieved by the concord of the East and West; but their recent amity was soon imbittered by the mutual complaints of jealousy and pride. The Greeks assumed as their own the merit of the conquest and the pomp of the triumph; extolled the greatness of their powers, and affected to deride the intemperance and sloth of the handful of Barbarians who appeared under the banners of the Carlovingian prince. His reply is expressed with the eloquence of indignation and truth: "We confess the magnitude of your preparation," says the great-grandson of Charlemagne. "Your armies were indeed as numerous as a cloud of summer locusts, who darken the day, flap their wings, and, after a short flight, tumble weary and breathless to the ground. Like them, ye sunk after a feeble effort; ye were vanquished by your own cowardice; and withdrew from the scene of action to injure and despoil our Christian subjects of the Sclavonian coast. We were few in number, and why were we few? Because, after a tedious expectation of your arrival, I had dismissed my host, and retained only a chosen band of warriors to continue the blockade of the city. If they indulged their hospitable feasts in the face of danger and death, did these feasts abate the vigor of their enterprise? Is it by your fasting that the walls of Bari have been overturned? Did not these valiant Franks, diminished as they were by languor and fatigue, intercept and vanish the three most powerful emirs of the Saracens? and did not their defeat precipitate the fall of the city? Bari is now fallen; Tarentum trembles; Calabria will be delivered; and, if we command the sea, the Island of Sicily may be rescued from the hands of the infidels. My brother," accelerate (a name most offensive to the vanity of the Greek,) "accelerate your naval succors, respect your allies, and distrust your flatterers."

The three major nations of the world—the Greeks, the Saracens, and the Franks—met in Italy. The southern provinces, which now make up the kingdom of Naples, were mostly under the control of the Lombard dukes and princes of Beneventum. They were so strong in battle that they momentarily halted Charlemagne's ambitions, and so generous in peace that they maintained an academy of thirty-two philosophers and grammarians in their capital. The division of this thriving state led to rival principalities of Benevento, Salerno, and Capua; and the reckless ambition or desire for revenge of these rivals drew the Saracens in to destroy their shared inheritance. Over a disastrous two hundred-year stretch, Italy experienced repeated assaults that the invaders could not heal with the unity and stability of a complete conquest. Their regular and almost yearly fleets sailed from the port of Palermo and were treated with too much leniency by the Christians of Naples; the more dangerous fleets were prepared on the African coast; and even the Arabs from Andalusia were occasionally tempted to help or hinder the opposing Moslems. In the unfolding of human events, a new trap lay hidden in the Caudine Forks, the fields of Cannæ were soaked again with the blood of the Africans, and the ruler of Rome was once more attacking or defending the walls of Capua and Tarentum. A colony of Saracens had been established at Bari, which overlooks the entrance to the Adriatic Gulf; and their indiscriminate raids provoked anger and brought together the two emperors. An offensive alliance was formed between Basil the Macedonian, the first of his line, and Lewis, the great-grandson of Charlemagne; and each side covered the deficiencies of its partner. It would have been unwise for the Byzantine emperor to move his troops from Asia for an Italian campaign; and the Latin military would have been inadequate without his superior navy controlling the mouth of the Gulf. The fortress of Bari was besieged by the Frankish infantry and the Greek cavalry and ships; and after four years of defense, the Arabian emir yielded to the mercy of Lewis, who personally oversaw the siege operations. This significant victory came about through the partnership of the East and West; but their fresh alliance soon soured with mutual complaints of jealousy and pride. The Greeks claimed the credit for the victory and the glory of the triumph, bragged about their strength, and pretended to mock the excess and laziness of the small group of Barbarians under the banners of the Carlovingian prince. His response was delivered with a mix of anger and truth: "We acknowledge the size of your force," said Charlemagne's great-grandson. "Your armies were indeed as numerous as a swarm of summer locusts that darken the day, flap their wings, and, after a brief flight, fall to the ground, exhausted. Like them, you faltered after a weak effort; you were defeated by your own cowardice and retreated from the battlefield to harm and plunder our Christian subjects along the Sclavonian coast. We were few in number, and why were we few? Because, after waiting a long time for you to arrive, I had dismissed most of my army and kept only a select group of warriors to maintain the blockade of the city. If they enjoyed their meals in the face of danger and death, did those meals lessen their determination? Is it through your fasting that the walls of Bari have fallen? Did not these brave Franks, even reduced by weariness, take down the three most powerful emirs of the Saracens? And did not their defeat lead to the city's downfall? Bari has now fallen; Tarentum shakes; Calabria will be freed; and if we control the sea, the Island of Sicily may be saved from the hands of the infidels. My brother," hasten (a name that greatly offends the vanity of the Greeks), "hasten your naval support, respect your allies, and be wary of your flatterers."

These lofty hopes were soon extinguished by the death of Lewis, and the decay of the Carlovingian house; and whoever might deserve the honor, the Greek emperors, Basil, and his son Leo, secured the advantage, of the reduction of Bari. The Italians of Apulia and Calabria were persuaded or compelled to acknowledge their supremacy, and an ideal line from Mount Garganus to the Bay of Salerno, leaves the far greater part of the kingdom of Naples under the dominion of the Eastern empire. Beyond that line, the dukes or republics of Amalfi and Naples, who had never forfeited their voluntary allegiance, rejoiced in the neighborhood of their lawful sovereign; and Amalfi was enriched by supplying Europe with the produce and manufactures of Asia. But the Lombard princes of Benevento, Salerno, and Capua, were reluctantly torn from the communion of the Latin world, and too often violated their oaths of servitude and tribute. The city of Bari rose to dignity and wealth, as the metropolis of the new theme or province of Lombardy: the title of patrician, and afterwards the singular name of Catapan, was assigned to the supreme governor; and the policy both of the church and state was modelled in exact subordination to the throne of Constantinople. As long as the sceptre was disputed by the princes of Italy, their efforts were feeble and adverse; and the Greeks resisted or eluded the forces of Germany, which descended from the Alps under the Imperial standard of the Othos. The first and greatest of those Saxon princes was compelled to relinquish the siege of Bari: the second, after the loss of his stoutest bishops and barons, escaped with honor from the bloody field of Crotona. On that day the scale of war was turned against the Franks by the valor of the Saracens. These corsairs had indeed been driven by the Byzantine fleets from the fortresses and coasts of Italy; but a sense of interest was more prevalent than superstition or resentment, and the caliph of Egypt had transported forty thousand Moslems to the aid of his Christian ally. The successors of Basil amused themselves with the belief, that the conquest of Lombardy had been achieved, and was still preserved by the justice of their laws, the virtues of their ministers, and the gratitude of a people whom they had rescued from anarchy and oppression. A series of rebellions might dart a ray of truth into the palace of Constantinople; and the illusions of flattery were dispelled by the easy and rapid success of the Norman adventurers.

These lofty hopes were soon dashed by the death of Lewis and the decline of the Carolingian dynasty. Regardless of who might deserve the credit, the Greek emperors, Basil and his son Leo, gained the advantage with the taking of Bari. The people of Apulia and Calabria were persuaded or forced to accept their rule, drawing an imaginary line from Mount Garganus to the Bay of Salerno that left most of the Kingdom of Naples under Eastern Empire control. Beyond that line, the dukes or republics of Amalfi and Naples, who had never given up their allegiance, thrived near their rightful sovereign; and Amalfi prospered by supplying Europe with Asian goods. However, the Lombard rulers of Benevento, Salerno, and Capua were reluctantly pulled away from their ties to the Latin world and often broke their promises of loyalty and tribute. Bari became an important and wealthy city as the capital of the new province of Lombardy; the title of patrician, and later the unique title of Catapan, was given to the top governor, and both church and state policies were designed to align directly with the throne of Constantinople. As long as the rule was contested by the princes of Italy, their efforts were weak and ineffective; meanwhile, the Greeks successfully resisted or avoided the German forces that descended from the Alps under the Imperial banner of the Othos. The first and most prominent of those Saxon princes had to lift the siege of Bari; the second, after losing his toughest bishops and barons, managed to escape with honor from the bloody battlefield of Crotona. That day, the tide of war turned against the Franks due to the bravery of the Saracens. These pirates had indeed been driven out of the fortresses and coasts of Italy by the Byzantine fleets; however, self-interest held more sway than superstition or bitterness, and the caliph of Egypt had sent forty thousand Muslims to support his Christian ally. Basil's successors were entertained by the belief that the conquest of Lombardy had been achieved and was maintained by their fair laws, the integrity of their officials, and the gratitude of a people they had saved from chaos and oppression. A series of rebellions might have shed some light on the reality at the palace of Constantinople; and the flattery’s illusions were shattered by the swift and straightforward successes of the Norman adventurers.

The revolution of human affairs had produced in Apulia and Calabria a melancholy contrast between the age of Pythagoras and the tenth century of the Christian æra. At the former period, the coast of Great Greece (as it was then styled) was planted with free and opulent cities: these cities were peopled with soldiers, artists, and philosophers; and the military strength of Tarentum; Sybaris, or Crotona, was not inferior to that of a powerful kingdom. At the second æra, these once flourishing provinces were clouded with ignorance impoverished by tyranny, and depopulated by Barbarian war; nor can we severely accuse the exaggeration of a contemporary, that a fair and ample district was reduced to the same desolation which had covered the earth after the general deluge. Among the hostilities of the Arabs, the Franks, and the Greeks, in the southern Italy, I shall select two or three anecdotes expressive of their national manners. 1. It was the amusement of the Saracens to profane, as well as to pillage, the monasteries and churches. At the siege of Salerno, a Mussulman chief spread his couch on the communion-table, and on that altar sacrificed each night the virginity of a Christian nun. As he wrestled with a reluctant maid, a beam in the roof was accidentally or dexterously thrown down on his head; and the death of the lustful emir was imputed to the wrath of Christ, which was at length awakened to the defence of his faithful spouse. 2. The Saracens besieged the cities of Beneventum and Capua: after a vain appeal to the successors of Charlemagne, the Lombards implored the clemency and aid of the Greek emperor. A fearless citizen dropped from the walls, passed the intrenchments, accomplished his commission, and fell into the hands of the Barbarians as he was returning with the welcome news. They commanded him to assist their enterprise, and deceive his countrymen, with the assurance that wealth and honors should be the reward of his falsehood, and that his sincerity would be punished with immediate death. He affected to yield, but as soon as he was conducted within hearing of the Christians on the rampart, "Friends and brethren," he cried with a loud voice, "be bold and patient, maintain the city; your sovereign is informed of your distress, and your deliverers are at hand. I know my doom, and commit my wife and children to your gratitude." The rage of the Arabs confirmed his evidence; and the self-devoted patriot was transpierced with a hundred spears. He deserves to live in the memory of the virtuous, but the repetition of the same story in ancient and modern times, may sprinkle some doubts on the reality of this generous deed. 3. The recital of a third incident may provoke a smile amidst the horrors of war. Theobald, marquis of Camerino and Spoleto, supported the rebels of Beneventum; and his wanton cruelty was not incompatible in that age with the character of a hero. His captives of the Greek nation or party were castrated without mercy, and the outrage was aggravated by a cruel jest, that he wished to present the emperor with a supply of eunuchs, the most precious ornaments of the Byzantine court. The garrison of a castle had been defeated in a sally, and the prisoners were sentenced to the customary operation. But the sacrifice was disturbed by the intrusion of a frantic female, who, with bleeding cheeks dishevelled hair, and importunate clamors, compelled the marquis to listen to her complaint. "Is it thus," she cried, "ye magnanimous heroes, that ye wage war against women, against women who have never injured ye, and whose only arms are the distaff and the loom?" Theobald denied the charge, and protested that, since the Amazons, he had never heard of a female war. "And how," she furiously exclaimed, "can you attack us more directly, how can you wound us in a more vital part, than by robbing our husbands of what we most dearly cherish, the source of our joys, and the hope of our posterity? The plunder of our flocks and herds I have endured without a murmur, but this fatal injury, this irreparable loss, subdues my patience, and calls aloud on the justice of heaven and earth." A general laugh applauded her eloquence; the savage Franks, inaccessible to pity, were moved by her ridiculous, yet rational despair; and with the deliverance of the captives, she obtained the restitution of her effects. As she returned in triumph to the castle, she was overtaken by a messenger, to inquire, in the name of Theobald, what punishment should be inflicted on her husband, were he again taken in arms. "Should such," she answered without hesitation, "be his guilt and misfortune, he has eyes, and a nose, and hands, and feet. These are his own, and these he may deserve to forfeit by his personal offences. But let my lord be pleased to spare what his little handmaid presumes to claim as her peculiar and lawful property."

The upheaval of human affairs had created a stark contrast in Apulia and Calabria between the time of Pythagoras and the tenth century of the Christian era. In the earlier period, the coast of Great Greece (as it was known) was filled with free and prosperous cities, populated by soldiers, artists, and philosophers; the military might of Tarentum, Sybaris, or Crotona matched that of a powerful kingdom. By the next era, these once-thriving regions were overshadowed by ignorance, weakened by tyranny, and depopulated by barbarian warfare; one could hardly blame a contemporary for claiming that a once-beautiful and ample territory had fallen into the same desolation that covered the earth after the Great Flood. Among the hostilities of the Arabs, Franks, and Greeks in southern Italy, I will share a few anecdotes that highlight their national customs. 1. The Saracens took pleasure in both desecrating and looting monasteries and churches. During the siege of Salerno, a Muslim leader made his bed on the communion table and, each night, sacrificed the virginity of a Christian nun on that altar. While he struggled with a resisting maid, a beam from the ceiling either accidentally or deliberately fell on his head; the lustful emir's death was attributed to Christ's anger, finally stirred to defend his faithful bride. 2. The Saracens besieged the cities of Beneventum and Capua: after a fruitless appeal to Charlemagne’s successors, the Lombards pleaded for mercy and assistance from the Greek emperor. A brave citizen dropped over the walls, passed through the defenses, completed his mission, and was captured by the Barbarians as he returned with good news. They ordered him to join their cause and deceive his fellow countrymen, promising him wealth and honors for his betrayal and threatening him with immediate death for honesty. He pretended to comply, but as soon as he was close enough for the Christians on the rampart to hear him, he cried out loudly, “Friends and brothers, be brave and patient, defend the city; your king knows of your distress, and your rescuers are on the way. I know my fate, and I trust my wife and children to your kindness.” The frenzied anger of the Arabs confirmed his words, and the selfless patriot was pierced by a hundred spears. He deserves to be remembered by the virtuous, though the repetition of this tale in both ancient and modern times may cast some doubt on the authenticity of his heroic act. 3. The recounting of a third incident may bring a smile amidst the horrors of war. Theobald, marquis of Camerino and Spoleto, supported the rebels of Beneventum; his reckless cruelty was not incompatible with the image of a hero in that era. His Greek captives were mercilessly castrated, and the outrage was compounded by his cruel jest that he wanted to send the emperor a supply of eunuchs, the most valued ornaments of the Byzantine court. When the garrison of a castle was defeated during an attack, the prisoners were sentenced to the usual punishment. However, the execution was interrupted by a frantic woman who, with bleeding cheeks, disheveled hair, and persistent cries, forced the marquis to hear her grievance. “Is this how you noble heroes wage war against women, who have never harmed you, and whose only weapons are the distaff and the loom?” Theobald denied the accusation, insisting that since the Amazons, he had never heard of female warfare. “And how,” she shouted furiously, “can you attack us more directly? How can you wound us more profoundly than by stripping our husbands of what we hold most dear—the source of our happiness and the hope for our children? I have endured the plunder of our flocks and herds without complaint, but this catastrophic injury, this irretrievable loss, overwhelms my patience and demands justice from heaven and earth.” Her eloquence prompted a general laugh; even the ruthless Franks, who were typically indifferent to pity, were moved by her absurd yet reasonable despair; and with the release of the captives, she secured the return of her possessions. As she triumphantly returned to the castle, a messenger caught up with her to ask, on Theobald's behalf, what punishment should be given to her husband if he were captured again. “If that should be his crime and misfortune,” she replied without hesitation, “he has eyes, a nose, hands, and feet. These belong to him, and he may rightly forfeit them for his own actions. But let my lord be kind enough to spare what his little handmaid claims as her rightful and lawful property.”

The establishment of the Normans in the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily is an event most romantic in its origin, and in its consequences most important both to Italy and the Eastern empire. The broken provinces of the Greeks, Lombards, and Saracens, were exposed to every invader, and every sea and land were invaded by the adventurous spirit of the Scandinavian pirates. After a long indulgence of rapine and slaughter, a fair and ample territory was accepted, occupied, and named, by the Normans of France: they renounced their gods for the God of the Christians; and the dukes of Normandy acknowledged themselves the vassals of the successors of Charlemagne and Capet. The savage fierceness which they had brought from the snowy mountains of Norway was refined, without being corrupted, in a warmer climate; the companions of Rollo insensibly mingled with the natives; they imbibed the manners, language, and gallantry, of the French nation; and in a martial age, the Normans might claim the palm of valor and glorious achievements. Of the fashionable superstitions, they embraced with ardor the pilgrimages of Rome, Italy, and the Holy Land. In this active devotion, the minds and bodies were invigorated by exercise: danger was the incentive, novelty the recompense; and the prospect of the world was decorated by wonder, credulity, and ambitious hope. They confederated for their mutual defence; and the robbers of the Alps, who had been allured by the garb of a pilgrim, were often chastised by the arm of a warrior. In one of these pious visits to the cavern of Mount Garganus in Apulia, which had been sanctified by the apparition of the archangel Michael, they were accosted by a stranger in the Greek habit, but who soon revealed himself as a rebel, a fugitive, and a mortal foe of the Greek empire. His name was Melo; a noble citizen of Bari, who, after an unsuccessful revolt, was compelled to seek new allies and avengers of his country. The bold appearance of the Normans revived his hopes and solicited his confidence: they listened to the complaints, and still more to the promises, of the patriot. The assurance of wealth demonstrated the justice of his cause; and they viewed, as the inheritance of the brave, the fruitful land which was oppressed by effeminate tyrants. On their return to Normandy, they kindled a spark of enterprise, and a small but intrepid band was freely associated for the deliverance of Apulia. They passed the Alps by separate roads, and in the disguise of pilgrims; but in the neighborhood of Rome they were saluted by the chief of Bari, who supplied the more indigent with arms and horses, and instantly led them to the field of action. In the first conflict, their valor prevailed; but in the second engagement they were overwhelmed by the numbers and military engines of the Greeks, and indignantly retreated with their faces to the enemy. The unfortunate Melo ended his life a suppliant at the court of Germany: his Norman followers, excluded from their native and their promised land, wandered among the hills and valleys of Italy, and earned their daily subsistence by the sword. To that formidable sword the princes of Capua, Beneventum, Salerno, and Naples, alternately appealed in their domestic quarrels; the superior spirit and discipline of the Normans gave victory to the side which they espoused; and their cautious policy observed the balance of power, lest the preponderance of any rival state should render their aid less important, and their service less profitable. Their first asylum was a strong camp in the depth of the marshes of Campania: but they were soon endowed by the liberality of the duke of Naples with a more plentiful and permanent seat. Eight miles from his residence, as a bulwark against Capua, the town of Aversa was built and fortified for their use; and they enjoyed as their own the corn and fruits, the meadows and groves, of that fertile district. The report of their success attracted every year new swarms of pilgrims and soldiers: the poor were urged by necessity; the rich were excited by hope; and the brave and active spirits of Normandy were impatient of ease and ambitious of renown. The independent standard of Aversa afforded shelter and encouragement to the outlaws of the province, to every fugitive who had escaped from the injustice or justice of his superiors; and these foreign associates were quickly assimilated in manners and language to the Gallic colony. The first leader of the Normans was Count Rainulf; and, in the origin of society, preëminence of rank is the reward and the proof of superior merit.

The establishment of the Normans in the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily is a story with a romantic beginning and significant consequences for both Italy and the Eastern Empire. The broken provinces of the Greeks, Lombards, and Saracens were vulnerable to any invader, while every sea and land was impacted by the daring spirit of the Scandinavian pirates. After a long period of looting and violence, a beautiful and generous territory was accepted, occupied, and named by the Normans from France. They swapped their old gods for the Christian God, and the dukes of Normandy submitted themselves as vassals to the successors of Charlemagne and Capet. The savage fierceness they brought from the snowy mountains of Norway was refined, without losing its edge, in a warmer climate; Rollo's companions gradually mixed with the locals, adopting the manners, language, and chivalry of the French. In a martial age, the Normans could lay claim to bravery and glorious achievements. Of the popular superstitions, they eagerly took part in pilgrimages to Rome, Italy, and the Holy Land. This active devotion energized both body and mind through exercise: danger was the motivation, novelty the reward, and the world was filled with wonder, belief, and ambitious hope. They banded together for mutual defense, and the robbers of the Alps, who were tempted by the appearance of a pilgrim, were often dealt with by the hand of a warrior. During one of these pious journeys to the cave of Mount Garganus in Apulia, which was blessed by the appearance of the archangel Michael, they were approached by a stranger in Greek clothing, who soon revealed himself as a rebel, a fugitive, and an enemy of the Greek Empire. His name was Melo, a noble citizen of Bari, who, after a failed revolt, was forced to seek new allies to avenge his homeland. The bold presence of the Normans reignited his hopes and earned his trust: they listened to his grievances, and even more so to his promises. His assurances of wealth proved the justice of his cause; they saw the fruitful land oppressed by weak tyrants as a rightful inheritance of the brave. Upon their return to Normandy, they sparked a sense of enterprise, and a small but fearless group was formed to liberate Apulia. They crossed the Alps by different routes and disguised as pilgrims; but near Rome, they were met by the chief of Bari, who provided the less fortunate with arms and horses, immediately leading them to the battlefield. In the first battle, they emerged victorious; however, in the second encounter, they were overwhelmed by the numbers and war machines of the Greeks, retreating indignantly with their backs to the enemy. The unfortunate Melo ended his life as a supplicant at the court in Germany; his Norman followers, excluded from their homeland and promised land, roamed the hills and valleys of Italy, earning their daily bread by the sword. The powerful sword was sought by the princes of Capua, Beneventum, Salerno, and Naples in their internal conflicts; the superior spirit and discipline of the Normans often tilted the outcome in favor of the side they supported, and their careful policy maintained a balance of power to prevent any one rival state from making their assistance less critical and their service less rewarding. Their first refuge was a strong camp deep within the marshes of Campania, but they were quickly granted a more ample and permanent home by the generosity of the duke of Naples. Eight miles from his residence, as a stronghold against Capua, the town of Aversa was established and fortified for their use; they enjoyed the grains and fruits, the meadows and groves, of that fertile region. News of their success brought new waves of pilgrims and soldiers each year: the poor were motivated by necessity; the rich were driven by hope; and the brave and spirited individuals from Normandy yearned for action and glory. The independent banner of Aversa provided refuge and encouragement to outlaws from the region, and to any fugitive who had escaped the justice or injustice of their superiors; these foreign companions quickly adapted to the ways and language of the Gallic colony. The first leader of the Normans was Count Rainulf; in the early days of society, prominence in rank reflects superior merit.

Since the conquest of Sicily by the Arabs, the Grecian emperors had been anxious to regain that valuable possession; but their efforts, however strenuous, had been opposed by the distance and the sea. Their costly armaments, after a gleam of success, added new pages of calamity and disgrace to the Byzantine annals: twenty thousand of their best troops were lost in a single expedition; and the victorious Moslems derided the policy of a nation which intrusted eunuchs not only with the custody of their women, but with the command of their men. After a reign of two hundred years, the Saracens were ruined by their divisions. The emir disclaimed the authority of the king of Tunis; the people rose against the emir; the cities were usurped by the chiefs; each meaner rebel was independent in his village or castle; and the weaker of two rival brothers implored the friendship of the Christians. In every service of danger the Normans were prompt and useful; and five hundred knights, or warriors on horseback, were enrolled by Arduin, the agent and interpreter of the Greeks, under the standard of Maniaces, governor of Lombardy. Before their landing, the brothers were reconciled; the union of Sicily and Africa was restored; and the island was guarded to the water's edge. The Normans led the van and the Arabs of Messina felt the valor of an untried foe. In a second action the emir of Syracuse was unhorsed and transpierced by the iron arm of William of Hauteville. In a third engagement, his intrepid companions discomfited the host of sixty thousand Saracens, and left the Greeks no more than the labor of the pursuit: a splendid victory; but of which the pen of the historian may divide the merit with the lance of the Normans. It is, however, true, that they essentially promoted the success of Maniaces, who reduced thirteen cities, and the greater part of Sicily, under the obedience of the emperor. But his military fame was sullied by ingratitude and tyranny. In the division of the spoils, the deserts of his brave auxiliaries were forgotten; and neither their avarice nor their pride could brook this injurious treatment. They complained by the mouth of their interpreter: their complaint was disregarded; their interpreter was scourged; the sufferings were his; the insult and resentment belonged to those whose sentiments he had delivered. Yet they dissembled till they had obtained, or stolen, a safe passage to the Italian continent: their brethren of Aversa sympathized in their indignation, and the province of Apulia was invaded as the forfeit of the debt. Above twenty years after the first emigration, the Normans took the field with no more than seven hundred horse and five hundred foot; and after the recall of the Byzantine legions from the Sicilian war, their numbers are magnified to the amount of threescore thousand men. Their herald proposed the option of battle or retreat; "of battle," was the unanimous cry of the Normans; and one of their stoutest warriors, with a stroke of his fist, felled to the ground the horse of the Greek messenger. He was dismissed with a fresh horse; the insult was concealed from the Imperial troops; but in two successive battles they were more fatally instructed of the prowess of their adversaries. In the plains of Cannæ, the Asiatics fled before the adventurers of France; the duke of Lombardy was made prisoner; the Apulians acquiesced in a new dominion; and the four places of Bari, Otranto, Brundusium, and Tarentum, were alone saved in the shipwreck of the Grecian fortunes. From this æra we may date the establishment of the Norman power, which soon eclipsed the infant colony of Aversa. Twelve counts were chosen by the popular suffrage; and age, birth, and merit, were the motives of their choice. The tributes of their peculiar districts were appropriated to their use; and each count erected a fortress in the midst of his lands, and at the head of his vassals. In the centre of the province, the common habitation of Melphi was reserved as the metropolis and citadel of the republic; a house and separate quarter was allotted to each of the twelve counts: and the national concerns were regulated by this military senate. The first of his peers, their president and general, was entitled count of Apulia; and this dignity was conferred on William of the iron arm, who, in the language of the age, is styled a lion in battle, a lamb in society, and an angel in council. The manners of his countrymen are fairly delineated by a contemporary and national historian. "The Normans," says Malaterra, "are a cunning and revengeful people; eloquence and dissimulation appear to be their hereditary qualities: they can stoop to flatter; but unless they are curbed by the restraint of law, they indulge the licentiousness of nature and passion. Their princes affect the praises of popular munificence; the people observe the medium, or rather blond the extremes, of avarice and prodigality; and in their eager thirst of wealth and dominion, they despise whatever they possess, and hope whatever they desire. Arms and horses, the luxury of dress, the exercises of hunting and hawking are the delight of the Normans; but, on pressing occasions, they can endure with incredible patience the inclemency of every climate, and the toil and absence of a military life."

Since the Arabs conquered Sicily, the Greek emperors have been eager to reclaim this valuable territory. However, despite their vigorous efforts, they were hindered by distance and the sea. Their expensive military campaigns, after a brief period of success, only added more stories of disaster and shame to Byzantine history: twenty thousand of their best troops were lost in a single expedition, and the victorious Muslims mocked a nation that entrusted eunuchs not only with the care of their women but also with leading their men. After two hundred years, the Saracens weakened due to internal conflicts. The emir rejected the authority of the king of Tunis; the people rebelled against the emir; cities were taken over by local leaders; every minor rebel acted independently in his village or castle; and the weaker of two rival brothers sought support from the Christians. In every dangerous situation, the Normans were quick to respond and valuable; five hundred knights, or mounted warriors, were recruited by Arduin, the agent and interpreter of the Greeks, under the banner of Maniaces, the governor of Lombardy. Before their arrival, the brothers reconciled; the connection between Sicily and Africa was restored; and the island was secured up to the water's edge. The Normans led the charge, and the Arabs of Messina faced the bravery of an unknown enemy. In a second encounter, the emir of Syracuse was unseated and pierced by the iron arm of William of Hauteville. In a third battle, his fearless companions defeated the army of sixty thousand Saracens, leaving the Greeks only the task of pursuing them: a glorious victory, but one that the historian's pen must share with the Normans' lance. It is true, however, that they significantly contributed to Maniaces’ success, which led to the reduction of thirteen cities and the majority of Sicily under the emperor’s control. Nevertheless, his military reputation was tarnished by ingratitude and tyranny. In the division of the spoils, the merits of his brave allies were overlooked, and neither their greed nor pride could accept this unfair treatment. They voiced their complaints through their interpreter; their grievances were ignored; their interpreter was punished; his suffering was his own; the affront and anger belonged to those whose feelings he had expressed. Yet they hid their discontent until they secured, or stole, safe passage to the Italian mainland: their brethren in Aversa shared their anger, and the province of Apulia was invaded as compensation for their debt. More than twenty years after the initial migration, the Normans set out with only seven hundred cavalry and five hundred infantry; after the withdrawal of the Byzantine legions from the Sicilian campaign, their numbers were inflated to sixty thousand. Their herald offered the choice of battle or retreat; "battle" was the unanimous shout of the Normans, and one of their bravest warriors smashed the horse of the Greek messenger with his fist. He was sent off with a fresh horse; the insult was hidden from the Imperial troops; but in two subsequent battles, they learned, in a harsh way, the strength of their opponents. In the plains of Cannae, the Asiatics fled before the French adventurers; the duke of Lombardy was captured; the Apulians accepted a new rule; and only the four places of Bari, Otranto, Brundusium, and Tarentum were spared in the wreck of Greek fortunes. From this point, we can mark the rise of Norman power, which soon overshadowed the young colony of Aversa. Twelve counts were elected by popular vote, with age, lineage, and merit as the reasons for their choice. The tributes from their specific regions were assigned for their use; each count built a fortress in the center of his lands, at the head of his vassals. In the heart of the province, the communal home of Melphi was designated as the capital and stronghold of the republic; a house and separate area was designated for each of the twelve counts, and matters of national interest were managed by this military senate. The foremost of his peers, their president and commander, was called the count of Apulia; this honor was granted to William of the Iron Arm, who, in the language of the time, was referred to as a lion in battle, a lamb in society, and an angel in council. The character of his countrymen is well described by a contemporary and national historian. "The Normans," says Malaterra, "are a clever and vengeful people; eloquence and deceit seem to be their inherited traits: they can stoop to flattery; but if not kept in check by the law, they let their natural impulses and passions run wild. Their leaders seek the praise of generous wealth; the people maintain the balance, or rather mix the extremes, of greed and extravagance; and in their intense desire for wealth and power, they devalue what they have while yearning for what they do not possess. Weapons and horses, fashionable clothing, and the pleasures of hunting and falconry are the joys of the Normans; yet, in urgent situations, they can surprisingly endure the harshness of every climate and the hardships and separation of military life."





Chapter LVI: The Saracens, The Franks And The Normans.—Part II.

The Normans of Apulia were seated on the verge of the two empires; and, according to the policy of the hour, they accepted the investiture of their lands, from the sovereigns of Germany or Constantinople. But the firmest title of these adventurers was the right of conquest: they neither loved nor trusted; they were neither trusted nor beloved: the contempt of the princes was mixed with fear, and the fear of the natives was mingled with hatred and resentment. Every object of desire, a horse, a woman, a garden, tempted and gratified the rapaciousness of the strangers; and the avarice of their chiefs was only colored by the more specious names of ambition and glory. The twelve counts were sometimes joined in the league of injustice: in their domestic quarrels they disputed the spoils of the people: the virtues of William were buried in his grave; and Drogo, his brother and successor, was better qualified to lead the valor, than to restrain the violence, of his peers. Under the reign of Constantine Monomachus, the policy, rather than benevolence, of the Byzantine court, attempted to relieve Italy from this adherent mischief, more grievous than a flight of Barbarians; and Argyrus, the son of Melo, was invested for this purpose with the most lofty titles and the most ample commission. The memory of his father might recommend him to the Normans; and he had already engaged their voluntary service to quell the revolt of Maniaces, and to avenge their own and the public injury. It was the design of Constantine to transplant the warlike colony from the Italian provinces to the Persian war; and the son of Melo distributed among the chiefs the gold and manufactures of Greece, as the first-fruits of the Imperial bounty. But his arts were baffled by the sense and spirit of the conquerors of Apulia: his gifts, or at least his proposals, were rejected; and they unanimously refused to relinquish their possessions and their hopes for the distant prospect of Asiatic fortune. After the means of persuasion had failed, Argyrus resolved to compel or to destroy: the Latin powers were solicited against the common enemy; and an offensive alliance was formed of the pope and the two emperors of the East and West. The throne of St. Peter was occupied by Leo the Ninth, a simple saint, of a temper most apt to deceive himself and the world, and whose venerable character would consecrate with the name of piety the measures least compatible with the practice of religion. His humanity was affected by the complaints, perhaps the calumnies, of an injured people: the impious Normans had interrupted the payment of tithes; and the temporal sword might be lawfully unsheathed against the sacrilegious robbers, who were deaf to the censures of the church. As a German of noble birth and royal kindred, Leo had free access to the court and confidence of the emperor Henry the Third; and in search of arms and allies, his ardent zeal transported him from Apulia to Saxony, from the Elbe to the Tyber. During these hostile preparations, Argyrus indulged himself in the use of secret and guilty weapons: a crowd of Normans became the victims of public or private revenge; and the valiant Drogo was murdered in a church. But his spirit survived in his brother Humphrey, the third count of Apulia. The assassins were chastised; and the son of Melo, overthrown and wounded, was driven from the field, to hide his shame behind the walls of Bari, and to await the tardy succor of his allies.

The Normans of Apulia were positioned on the edge of two empires, and, following the politics of the time, they accepted the official title to their lands from the rulers of Germany or Constantinople. However, their strongest claim was based on conquest: they neither loved nor trusted anyone, and others felt the same way about them. The princes looked at them with a mix of contempt and fear, while the locals felt hatred and resentment toward the Normans. Everything desirable—a horse, a woman, a garden—tempted the greed of these outsiders, and the ambition of their leaders was merely a disguise for their avarice. The twelve counts sometimes joined forces in their unjust dealings, arguing among themselves over the spoils taken from the people. The virtues of William were long gone, buried with him; his brother Drogo, his successor, was better at leading the charge than controlling the aggression of his peers. Under the reign of Constantine Monomachus, the Byzantine court, out of a sense of strategy rather than kindness, sought to rid Italy of this troublesome presence, which was even worse than a wave of Barbarians. For this task, Argyrus, the son of Melo, was given high honors and extensive authority. The memory of his father might have earned him favor with the Normans, and he had already enlisted their help to quell the revolt of Maniaces and to seek revenge for personal and public grievances. Constantine aimed to move this combative group from Italy to the Persian front, and the son of Melo distributed gold and goods from Greece among the leaders as a sign of the emperor’s goodwill. However, his efforts were thwarted by the resolute mindset of the Apulian conquerors; they rejected his gifts and proposals, refusing to give up their land and hopes for the uncertain promise of fortune in Asia. When persuasion didn’t work, Argyrus decided to force their compliance or eliminate them. The Latin powers were called upon to fight a common enemy, leading to a military alliance involving the pope and the two emperors of the East and West. Leo the Ninth, a humble saint of a character prone to self-deception and misinterpreting his surroundings, presided over St. Peter's throne. His esteemed reputation would lend a pious veneer to actions that were less than religious. His concern was stirred by the complaints, possibly slanders, from a wronged populace: the impious Normans had disrupted the collection of tithes; it was entirely justifiable to draw the sword against these sacrilegious thieves, who ignored the church's admonishments. As a German of noble birth and royal lineage, Leo had easy access to Emperor Henry the Third's court, and in his pursuit of arms and allies, his fervent dedication took him from Apulia to Saxony, from the Elbe to the Tiber. During these preparations for conflict, Argyrus resorted to secret and illicit methods: many Normans fell victim to acts of public or private revenge, and the brave Drogo was murdered inside a church. Yet his spirit lived on in his brother Humphrey, the third count of Apulia. The assassins faced punishment, and Argyrus, overwhelmed and injured, was driven from the battlefield to hide his disgrace behind the walls of Bari, waiting for the slow arrival of assistance from his allies.

But the power of Constantine was distracted by a Turkish war; the mind of Henry was feeble and irresolute; and the pope, instead of repassing the Alps with a German army, was accompanied only by a guard of seven hundred Swabians and some volunteers of Lorraine. In his long progress from Mantua to Beneventum, a vile and promiscuous multitude of Italians was enlisted under the holy standard: the priest and the robber slept in the same tent; the pikes and crosses were intermingled in the front; and the martial saint repeated the lessons of his youth in the order of march, of encampment, and of combat. The Normans of Apulia could muster in the field no more than three thousand horse, with a handful of infantry: the defection of the natives intercepted their provisions and retreat; and their spirit, incapable of fear, was chilled for a moment by superstitious awe. On the hostile approach of Leo, they knelt without disgrace or reluctance before their spiritual father. But the pope was inexorable; his lofty Germans affected to deride the diminutive stature of their adversaries; and the Normans were informed that death or exile was their only alternative. Flight they disdained, and, as many of them had been three days without tasting food, they embraced the assurance of a more easy and honorable death. They climbed the hill of Civitella, descended into the plain, and charged in three divisions the army of the pope. On the left, and in the centre, Richard count of Aversa, and Robert the famous Guiscard, attacked, broke, routed, and pursued the Italian multitudes, who fought without discipline, and fled without shame. A harder trial was reserved for the valor of Count Humphrey, who led the cavalry of the right wing. The Germans have been described as unskillful in the management of the horse and the lance, but on foot they formed a strong and impenetrable phalanx; and neither man, nor steed, nor armor, could resist the weight of their long and two-handed swords. After a severe conflict, they were encompassed by the squadrons returning from the pursuit; and died in the ranks with the esteem of their foes, and the satisfaction of revenge. The gates of Civitella were shut against the flying pope, and he was overtaken by the pious conquerors, who kissed his feet, to implore his blessing and the absolution of their sinful victory. The soldiers beheld in their enemy and captive the vicar of Christ; and, though we may suppose the policy of the chiefs, it is probable that they were infected by the popular superstition. In the calm of retirement, the well-meaning pope deplored the effusion of Christian blood, which must be imputed to his account: he felt, that he had been the author of sin and scandal; and as his undertaking had failed, the indecency of his military character was universally condemned. With these dispositions, he listened to the offers of a beneficial treaty; deserted an alliance which he had preached as the cause of God; and ratified the past and future conquests of the Normans. By whatever hands they had been usurped, the provinces of Apulia and Calabria were a part of the donation of Constantine and the patrimony of St. Peter: the grant and the acceptance confirmed the mutual claims of the pontiff and the adventurers. They promised to support each other with spiritual and temporal arms; a tribute or quitrent of twelve pence was afterwards stipulated for every ploughland; and since this memorable transaction, the kingdom of Naples has remained above seven hundred years a fief of the Holy See.

But Constantine's power was distracted by a war with the Turks; Henry's mind was weak and indecisive; and instead of crossing the Alps with a German army, the pope was only accompanied by a guard of seven hundred Swabians and a few volunteers from Lorraine. During his long journey from Mantua to Beneventum, a disreputable and mixed crowd of Italians joined under the holy standard: priests and thieves shared the same tent; pikes and crosses were mixed at the front; and the warrior saint repeated the lessons of his youth in the order of march, camp setup, and battle. The Normans of Apulia could only muster around three thousand cavalry and a small number of infantry: the locals' defections cut off their supplies and retreat; and their bravery, usually fearless, was momentarily dampened by superstitious fear. When Leo's army approached, they knelt before their spiritual leader without shame or hesitation. However, the pope was unyielding; his proud German troops mocked the small stature of their opponents; and the Normans learned that their only options were death or exile. They rejected the idea of fleeing, and since many of them had gone three days without food, they welcomed the assurance of a quicker and more honorable death. They ascended the hill of Civitella, entered the plain, and charged the pope's army in three groups. On the left and in the center, Richard, Count of Aversa, and Robert, the famous Guiscard, attacked, broke through, routed, and pursued the Italian hordes, who fought without strategy and fled without shame. A tougher challenge awaited Count Humphrey, who led the cavalry on the right wing. The Germans were known for being clumsy with horses and lances, but on foot they formed a strong and impenetrable shield; and neither man, horse, nor armor could withstand the force of their long two-handed swords. After a fierce battle, they were surrounded by returning squadrons from the pursuit and died in ranks, earning the respect of their enemies and satisfying their desire for revenge. The gates of Civitella closed against the fleeing pope, and he was caught by the pious victors, who kissed his feet to seek his blessing and the forgiveness of their sinful victory. The soldiers saw in their enemy and captive the vicar of Christ; and while we might question the motives of their leaders, it’s likely they were influenced by widespread superstition. In his quiet moments, the well-meaning pope mourned the shedding of Christian blood, which he felt was his responsibility: he realized he had caused sin and scandal, and since his mission had failed, his military involvement was widely condemned. With this mindset, he considered a beneficial treaty; abandoned an alliance he had presented as righteous; and confirmed the previous and future conquests of the Normans. Regardless of how they had been seized, the provinces of Apulia and Calabria were part of Constantine's donation and St. Peter's legacy: the agreement confirmed the mutual claims of the pope and the soldiers. They pledged to support each other with spiritual and temporal resources; a tribute of twelve pence was later agreed upon for every ploughland; and since this notable event, the kingdom of Naples has remained a fief of the Holy See for over seven hundred years.

The pedigree of Robert of Guiscard is variously deduced from the peasants and the dukes of Normandy: from the peasants, by the pride and ignorance of a Grecian princess; from the dukes, by the ignorance and flattery of the Italian subjects. His genuine descent may be ascribed to the second or middle order of private nobility. He sprang from a race of valvassors or bannerets, of the diocese of Coutances, in the Lower Normandy: the castle of Hauteville was their honorable seat: his father Tancred was conspicuous in the court and army of the duke; and his military service was furnished by ten soldiers or knights. Two marriages, of a rank not unworthy of his own, made him the father of twelve sons, who were educated at home by the impartial tenderness of his second wife. But a narrow patrimony was insufficient for this numerous and daring progeny; they saw around the neighborhood the mischiefs of poverty and discord, and resolved to seek in foreign wars a more glorious inheritance. Two only remained to perpetuate the race, and cherish their father's age: their ten brothers, as they successfully attained the vigor of manhood, departed from the castle, passed the Alps, and joined the Apulian camp of the Normans. The elder were prompted by native spirit; their success encouraged their younger brethren, and the three first in seniority, William, Drogo, and Humphrey, deserved to be the chiefs of their nation and the founders of the new republic. Robert was the eldest of the seven sons of the second marriage; and even the reluctant praise of his foes has endowed him with the heroic qualities of a soldier and a statesman. His lofty stature surpassed the tallest of his army: his limbs were cast in the true proportion of strength and gracefulness; and to the decline of life, he maintained the patient vigor of health and the commanding dignity of his form. His complexion was ruddy, his shoulders were broad, his hair and beard were long and of a flaxen color, his eyes sparkled with fire, and his voice, like that of Achilles, could impress obedience and terror amidst the tumult of battle. In the ruder ages of chivalry, such qualifications are not below the notice of the poet or historians: they may observe that Robert, at once, and with equal dexterity, could wield in the right hand his sword, his lance in the left; that in the battle of Civitella he was thrice unhorsed; and that in the close of that memorable day he was adjudged to have borne away the prize of valor from the warriors of the two armies. His boundless ambition was founded on the consciousness of superior worth: in the pursuit of greatness, he was never arrested by the scruples of justice, and seldom moved by the feelings of humanity: though not insensible of fame, the choice of open or clandestine means was determined only by his present advantage. The surname of Guiscard was applied to this master of political wisdom, which is too often confounded with the practice of dissimulation and deceit; and Robert is praised by the Apulian poet for excelling the cunning of Ulysses and the eloquence of Cicero. Yet these arts were disguised by an appearance of military frankness: in his highest fortune, he was accessible and courteous to his fellow-soldiers; and while he indulged the prejudices of his new subjects, he affected in his dress and manners to maintain the ancient fashion of his country. He grasped with a rapacious, that he might distribute with a liberal, hand: his primitive indigence had taught the habits of frugality; the gain of a merchant was not below his attention; and his prisoners were tortured with slow and unfeeling cruelty, to force a discovery of their secret treasure. According to the Greeks, he departed from Normandy with only five followers on horseback and thirty on foot; yet even this allowance appears too bountiful: the sixth son of Tancred of Hauteville passed the Alps as a pilgrim; and his first military band was levied among the adventurers of Italy. His brothers and countrymen had divided the fertile lands of Apulia; but they guarded their shares with the jealousy of avarice; the aspiring youth was driven forwards to the mountains of Calabria, and in his first exploits against the Greeks and the natives, it is not easy to discriminate the hero from the robber. To surprise a castle or a convent, to ensnare a wealthy citizen, to plunder the adjacent villages for necessary food, were the obscure labors which formed and exercised the powers of his mind and body. The volunteers of Normandy adhered to his standard; and, under his command, the peasants of Calabria assumed the name and character of Normans.

The background of Robert of Guiscard is traced back to both the peasantry and the dukes of Normandy: from the peasants, through the pride and ignorance of a Greek princess; from the dukes, through the ignorance and flattery of the Italian people. His true lineage can be linked to the second or middle tier of private nobility. He came from a line of valvassors or bannerets in the diocese of Coutances, in Lower Normandy: the castle of Hauteville was their esteemed residence. His father Tancred was notable in the court and army of the duke, and he supported his military endeavors with ten soldiers or knights. Two marriages, not unworthy of his status, made him the father of twelve sons, who were raised at home with the impartial care of his second wife. But a small inheritance wasn’t enough for this large and ambitious family; they witnessed the hardships of poverty and discord around them and decided to seek a more glorious legacy in foreign wars. Only two stayed behind to carry on the family name and support their father in his old age: their ten brothers, once they reached adulthood, left the castle, crossed the Alps, and joined the Norman camp in Apulia. The older brothers were driven by their innate ambition; their success inspired their younger siblings, and the three eldest, William, Drogo, and Humphrey, emerged as leaders of their people and the founders of a new republic. Robert was the oldest of the seven sons from the second marriage; even his enemies grudgingly acknowledged his heroic qualities as a soldier and a leader. He was taller than the tallest in his army: his body reflected a perfect blend of strength and grace, and he maintained a robust health and commanding presence throughout his life. He had a ruddy complexion, broad shoulders, long flaxen hair and beard, sparkling eyes, and a voice that, like Achilles, could command obedience and instill fear amid the chaos of battle. In the rough times of chivalry, such traits caught the attention of poets and historians: they noted that Robert could skillfully wield a sword in his right hand and a lance in his left; that during the battle of Civitella, he was unhorsed three times; and that by the end of that historic day, he was deemed the most valiant among warriors from both sides. His immense ambition stemmed from a belief in his own superiority: in his quest for greatness, he was seldom held back by concerns of justice and rarely swayed by feelings of compassion; while he sought fame, his choice of direct or stealthy tactics depended solely on what benefited him most at the time. The title Guiscard was given to this master of political strategy, often mistakenly associated with dishonesty and deceit; and the Apulian poet praised Robert for being more cunning than Ulysses and more eloquent than Cicero. However, these skills were often masked by a facade of military honesty: in his peak, he was approachable and friendly to his fellow soldiers; and while he went along with the biases of his new subjects, he tried to keep the traditional styles of his homeland in his dress and behavior. He was greedy in acquiring wealth, but generous in sharing it: his early poverty taught him frugal habits; he paid attention to the profits of merchants; and he would inflict slow, merciless torture on captives to extract hidden treasures from them. According to the Greeks, he left Normandy with just five mounted followers and thirty foot soldiers; yet even this number seems exaggerated: Tancred of Hauteville's sixth son crossed the Alps as a pilgrim, and his initial military group was formed from adventurers in Italy. His brothers and countrymen had claimed the fertile lands in Apulia; but they guarded their portions with greedy jealousy, pushing the ambitious youth onward to the mountains of Calabria. In his early raids against the Greeks and locals, it’s hard to tell the hero apart from the thief. Capturing a castle or a convent, trapping a wealthy citizen, or raiding local villages for food were all the covert tasks that developed and honed his physical and mental abilities. Volunteers from Normandy rallied to his cause; under his leadership, the peasants of Calabria adopted the identity and spirit of Normans.

As the genius of Robert expanded with his fortune, he awakened the jealousy of his elder brother, by whom, in a transient quarrel, his life was threatened and his liberty restrained. After the death of Humphrey, the tender age of his sons excluded them from the command; they were reduced to a private estate, by the ambition of their guardian and uncle; and Guiscard was exalted on a buckler, and saluted count of Apulia and general of the republic. With an increase of authority and of force, he resumed the conquest of Calabria, and soon aspired to a rank that should raise him forever above the heads of his equals. By some acts of rapine or sacrilege, he had incurred a papal excommunication; but Nicholas the Second was easily persuaded that the divisions of friends could terminate only in their mutual prejudice; that the Normans were the faithful champions of the Holy See; and it was safer to trust the alliance of a prince than the caprice of an aristocracy. A synod of one hundred bishops was convened at Melphi; and the count interrupted an important enterprise to guard the person and execute the decrees of the Roman pontiff. His gratitude and policy conferred on Robert and his posterity the ducal title, with the investiture of Apulia, Calabria, and all the lands, both in Italy and Sicily, which his sword could rescue from the schismatic Greeks and the unbelieving Saracens. This apostolic sanction might justify his arms; but the obedience of a free and victorious people could not be transferred without their consent; and Guiscard dissembled his elevation till the ensuing campaign had been illustrated by the conquest of Consenza and Reggio. In the hour of triumph, he assembled his troops, and solicited the Normans to confirm by their suffrage the judgment of the vicar of Christ: the soldiers hailed with joyful acclamations their valiant duke; and the counts, his former equals, pronounced the oath of fidelity with hollow smiles and secret indignation. After this inauguration, Robert styled himself, "By the grace of God and St. Peter, duke of Apulia, Calabria, and hereafter of Sicily;" and it was the labor of twenty years to deserve and realize these lofty appellations. Such tardy progress, in a narrow space, may seem unworthy of the abilities of the chief and the spirit of the nation; but the Normans were few in number; their resources were scanty; their service was voluntary and precarious. The bravest designs of the duke were sometimes opposed by the free voice of his parliament of barons: the twelve counts of popular election conspired against his authority; and against their perfidious uncle, the sons of Humphrey demanded justice and revenge. By his policy and vigor, Guiscard discovered their plots, suppressed their rebellions, and punished the guilty with death or exile: but in these domestic feuds, his years, and the national strength, were unprofitably consumed. After the defeat of his foreign enemies, the Greeks, Lombards, and Saracens, their broken forces retreated to the strong and populous cities of the sea-coast. They excelled in the arts of fortification and defence; the Normans were accustomed to serve on horseback in the field, and their rude attempts could only succeed by the efforts of persevering courage. The resistance of Salerno was maintained above eight months; the siege or blockade of Bari lasted near four years. In these actions the Norman duke was the foremost in every danger; in every fatigue the last and most patient. As he pressed the citadel of Salerno, a huge stone from the rampart shattered one of his military engines; and by a splinter he was wounded in the breast. Before the gates of Bari, he lodged in a miserable hut or barrack, composed of dry branches, and thatched with straw; a perilous station, on all sides open to the inclemency of the winter and the spears of the enemy.

As Robert's brilliance grew along with his wealth, it sparked jealousy in his older brother, who, during a brief argument, threatened his life and restricted his freedom. After Humphrey’s death, his young sons were too inexperienced to assume control; they were pushed down to a private estate due to the ambitions of their guardian and uncle. Guiscard was elevated and named Count of Apulia and General of the Republic. With more power and strength, he resumed the conquest of Calabria and quickly sought a status that would forever set him above his peers. He had incurred a papal excommunication through acts of robbery or sacrilege, but Pope Nicholas II was easily convinced that the infighting among allies would only harm them all; that the Normans were loyal defenders of the Holy See; and it was wiser to rely on a prince’s alliance than the whims of an aristocracy. A synod of one hundred bishops was held at Melphi; the count paused an important campaign to protect the pope and carry out his decisions. His gratitude and strategy awarded Robert and his descendants the title of duke, along with control over Apulia, Calabria, and all the lands in Italy and Sicily that his sword could reclaim from the schismatic Greeks and unbelieving Saracens. This apostolic endorsement could justify his conquests; however, the loyalty of a free and victorious people couldn't be taken without their consent, and Guiscard hid his rise until the next campaign was marked by the conquest of Consenza and Reggio. In a moment of triumph, he rallied his troops and urged the Normans to confirm the pope's judgment with their vote: the soldiers cheered for their brave duke; and the counts, once his equals, swore loyalty with fake smiles and concealed anger. After this inauguration, Robert referred to himself as "By the grace of God and St. Peter, Duke of Apulia, Calabria, and, in due time, Sicily;" it would take him twenty years to deserve and achieve these grand titles. This slow progress, within a limited timeframe, might seem inadequate given the leader's capabilities and the nation's spirit; but the Normans were few, their resources were limited, and their service was voluntary and unreliable. The duke's bold plans were sometimes challenged by the free voice of his council of barons: the twelve elected counts plotted against his authority, and the sons of Humphrey sought justice and revenge against their treacherous uncle. Through his cunning and strength, Guiscard discovered their schemes, crushed their rebellions, and punished the guilty with death or exile: but during these internal conflicts, both his years and the national strength were wasted. After defeating foreign foes like the Greeks, Lombards, and Saracens, their scattered forces retreated to the strong and populous coastal cities. They excelled in fortification and defense; the Normans were used to fighting on horseback in the open fields, and their crude efforts relied solely on persistent bravery. Salerno held out for over eight months; the siege of Bari lasted nearly four years. In these battles, the Norman duke was always at the forefront of danger, being the last and most patient in every hardship. As he attacked the citadel of Salerno, a large stone from the wall destroyed one of his siege engines, and he was wounded in the chest by a splinter. Outside Bari, he stayed in a shabby hut or barrack made of dry branches and thatched with straw; a risky position, entirely exposed to the harsh winter and the enemy's spears.

The Italian conquests of Robert correspond with the limits of the present kingdom of Naples; and the countries united by his arms have not been dissevered by the revolutions of seven hundred years. The monarchy has been composed of the Greek provinces of Calabria and Apulia, of the Lombard principality of Salerno, the republic of Amalphi, and the inland dependencies of the large and ancient duchy of Beneventum. Three districts only were exempted from the common law of subjection; the first forever, the two last till the middle of the succeeding century. The city and immediate territory of Benevento had been transferred, by gift or exchange, from the German emperor to the Roman pontiff; and although this holy land was sometimes invaded, the name of St. Peter was finally more potent than the sword of the Normans. Their first colony of Aversa subdued and held the state of Capua; and her princes were reduced to beg their bread before the palace of their fathers. The dukes of Naples, the present metropolis, maintained the popular freedom, under the shadow of the Byzantine empire. Among the new acquisitions of Guiscard, the science of Salerno, and the trade of Amalphi, may detain for a moment the curiosity of the reader. I. Of the learned faculties, jurisprudence implies the previous establishment of laws and property; and theology may perhaps be superseded by the full light of religion and reason. But the savage and the sage must alike implore the assistance of physic; and, if our diseases are inflamed by luxury, the mischiefs of blows and wounds would be more frequent in the ruder ages of society. The treasures of Grecian medicine had been communicated to the Arabian colonies of Africa, Spain, and Sicily; and in the intercourse of peace and war, a spark of knowledge had been kindled and cherished at Salerno, an illustrious city, in which the men were honest and the women beautiful. A school, the first that arose in the darkness of Europe, was consecrated to the healing art: the conscience of monks and bishops was reconciled to that salutary and lucrative profession; and a crowd of patients, of the most eminent rank, and most distant climates, invited or visited the physicians of Salerno. They were protected by the Norman conquerors; and Guiscard, though bred in arms, could discern the merit and value of a philosopher. After a pilgrimage of thirty-nine years, Constantine, an African Christian, returned from Bagdad, a master of the language and learning of the Arabians; and Salerno was enriched by the practice, the lessons, and the writings of the pupil of Avicenna. The school of medicine has long slept in the name of a university; but her precepts are abridged in a string of aphorisms, bound together in the Leonine verses, or Latin rhymes, of the twelfth century. II. Seven miles to the west of Salerno, and thirty to the south of Naples, the obscure town of Amalphi displayed the power and rewards of industry. The land, however fertile, was of narrow extent; but the sea was accessible and open: the inhabitants first assumed the office of supplying the western world with the manufactures and productions of the East; and this useful traffic was the source of their opulence and freedom. The government was popular, under the administration of a duke and the supremacy of the Greek emperor. Fifty thousand citizens were numbered in the walls of Amalphi; nor was any city more abundantly provided with gold, silver, and the objects of precious luxury. The mariners who swarmed in her port, excelled in the theory and practice of navigation and astronomy: and the discovery of the compass, which has opened the globe, is owing to their ingenuity or good fortune. Their trade was extended to the coasts, or at least to the commodities, of Africa, Arabia, and India: and their settlements in Constantinople, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria, acquired the privileges of independent colonies. After three hundred years of prosperity, Amalphi was oppressed by the arms of the Normans, and sacked by the jealousy of Pisa; but the poverty of one thousand fisherman is yet dignified by the remains of an arsenal, a cathedral, and the palaces of royal merchants.

The Italian conquests of Robert align with the borders of today’s kingdom of Naples, and the territories united by his forces have not been divided by the upheavals of seven hundred years. The monarchy consisted of the Greek regions of Calabria and Apulia, the Lombard principality of Salerno, the republic of Amalfi, and the inland regions of the large and ancient duchy of Benevento. Only three areas were exempt from the common law of subjugation; one was forever exempt, while the other two were free until the middle of the following century. The city and surrounding area of Benevento had been handed over, through gift or exchange, from the German emperor to the Roman pope; and even though this sacred land was occasionally attacked, the name of St. Peter ultimately proved more powerful than the sword of the Normans. Their first settlement in Aversa conquered and maintained control over the state of Capua; its princes were reduced to begging for food at the gates of their own palace. The dukes of Naples, the current capital, preserved popular freedom under the influence of the Byzantine Empire. Among the new territories gained by Guiscard, the knowledge from Salerno and the trade from Amalfi might briefly catch the reader's attention. I. In terms of academic disciplines, law implies the prior establishment of laws and property; and theology may be overshadowed by the full illumination of religion and reason. However, both the savage and the wise must seek the aid of medicine; and if our ailments are exacerbated by luxury, the injuries from blows and wounds would have been more frequent in the rougher periods of society. The riches of Greek medicine had been shared with the Arabian colonies in Africa, Spain, and Sicily; and through peace and warfare, a spark of knowledge was ignited and nurtured in Salerno, an illustrious city known for its honest men and beautiful women. A school, the first to emerge from the darkness of Europe, was dedicated to the healing arts: the conscience of monks and bishops was reconciled to this beneficial and profitable profession; and a multitude of patients from the highest ranks and farthest lands sought out or visited the physicians of Salerno. They were protected by the Norman conquerors; and Guiscard, raised in warfare, could recognize the worth and value of a philosopher. After thirty-nine years of pilgrimage, Constantine, an African Christian, returned from Baghdad, proficient in the language and scholarship of the Arabs; and Salerno was enriched by the practice, teachings, and writings of Avicenna's student. The school of medicine may have long rested in the title of a university, but its teachings are condensed into a series of aphorisms, bound together in the Leonine verses or Latin rhymes of the twelfth century. II. Seven miles west of Salerno and thirty miles south of Naples, the little town of Amalfi showcased the power and rewards of hard work. The land, though fertile, was limited in size; yet the sea was accessible and open: the residents initially took on the role of supplying the western world with the products and creations of the East; and this valuable trade was the foundation of their wealth and independence. The government was popular, led by a duke and under the authority of the Greek emperor. Fifty thousand citizens lived within the walls of Amalfi; no other city had more gold, silver, and luxury goods. The sailors who filled the port excelled in both navigation and astronomy: the discovery of the compass, which changed global exploration, is credited to their cleverness or good luck. Their trade reached out to the coasts, or at least to the products, of Africa, Arabia, and India; and their settlements in Constantinople, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria gained the benefits of independent colonies. After three hundred years of prosperity, Amalfi fell under the oppression of the Normans and was raided by the jealousy of Pisa; yet the poverty of a thousand fishermen is still dignified by the remnants of an arsenal, a cathedral, and the mansions of wealthy merchants.





Chapter LVI: The Saracens, The Franks And The Normans.—Part III.

Roger, the twelfth and last of the sons of Tancred, had been long detained in Normandy by his own and his father's age. He accepted the welcome summons; hastened to the Apulian camp; and deserved at first the esteem, and afterwards the envy, of his elder brother. Their valor and ambition were equal; but the youth, the beauty, the elegant manners, of Roger engaged the disinterested love of the soldiers and people. So scanty was his allowance for himself and forty followers, that he descended from conquest to robbery, and from robbery to domestic theft; and so loose were the notions of property, that, by his own historian, at his special command, he is accused of stealing horses from a stable at Melphi. His spirit emerged from poverty and disgrace: from these base practices he rose to the merit and glory of a holy war; and the invasion of Sicily was seconded by the zeal and policy of his brother Guiscard. After the retreat of the Greeks, the idolaters, a most audacious reproach of the Catholics, had retrieved their losses and possessions; but the deliverance of the island, so vainly undertaken by the forces of the Eastern empire, was achieved by a small and private band of adventurers. In the first attempt, Roger braved, in an open boat, the real and fabulous dangers of Scylla and Charybdis; landed with only sixty soldiers on a hostile shore; drove the Saracens to the gates of Messina and safely returned with the spoils of the adjacent country. In the fortress of Trani, his active and patient courage were equally conspicuous. In his old age he related with pleasure, that, by the distress of the siege, himself, and the countess his wife, had been reduced to a single cloak or mantle, which they wore alternately; that in a sally his horse had been slain, and he was dragged away by the Saracens; but that he owed his rescue to his good sword, and had retreated with his saddle on his back, lest the meanest trophy might be left in the hands of the miscreants. In the siege of Trani, three hundred Normans withstood and repulsed the forces of the island. In the field of Ceramio, fifty thousand horse and foot were overthrown by one hundred and thirty-six Christian soldiers, without reckoning St. George, who fought on horseback in the foremost ranks. The captive banners, with four camels, were reserved for the successor of St. Peter; and had these barbaric spoils been exposed, not in the Vatican, but in the Capitol, they might have revived the memory of the Punic triumphs. These insufficient numbers of the Normans most probably denote their knights, the soldiers of honorable and equestrian rank, each of whom was attended by five or six followers in the field; yet, with the aid of this interpretation, and after every fair allowance on the side of valor, arms, and reputation, the discomfiture of so many myriads will reduce the prudent reader to the alternative of a miracle or a fable. The Arabs of Sicily derived a frequent and powerful succor from their countrymen of Africa: in the siege of Palermo, the Norman cavalry was assisted by the galleys of Pisa; and, in the hour of action, the envy of the two brothers was sublimed to a generous and invincible emulation. After a war of thirty years, Roger, with the title of great count, obtained the sovereignty of the largest and most fruitful island of the Mediterranean; and his administration displays a liberal and enlightened mind, above the limits of his age and education. The Moslems were maintained in the free enjoyment of their religion and property: a philosopher and physician of Mazara, of the race of Mahomet, harangued the conqueror, and was invited to court; his geography of the seven climates was translated into Latin; and Roger, after a diligent perusal, preferred the work of the Arabian to the writings of the Grecian Ptolemy. A remnant of Christian natives had promoted the success of the Normans: they were rewarded by the triumph of the cross. The island was restored to the jurisdiction of the Roman pontiff; new bishops were planted in the principal cities; and the clergy was satisfied by a liberal endowment of churches and monasteries. Yet the Catholic hero asserted the rights of the civil magistrate. Instead of resigning the investiture of benefices, he dexterously applied to his own profit the papal claims: the supremacy of the crown was secured and enlarged, by the singular bull, which declares the princes of Sicily hereditary and perpetual legates of the Holy See.

Roger, the twelfth and youngest son of Tancred, had been stuck in Normandy for a long time due to his own age and his father's. He eagerly accepted the invitation and rushed to the Apulian camp, earning the respect and later the envy of his older brother. Their courage and ambition were equal, but Roger's youth, good looks, and charming manners won him the genuine affection of the soldiers and the people. His allowance for himself and his forty followers was so small that he went from conquering to stealing and from stealing to petty theft; the concept of ownership was so loose that he was even accused by his own historian, at his request, of stealing horses from a stable in Melphi. Rising from poverty and disgrace, he moved past these dishonorable actions to achieve merit and glory in a holy war, and his brother Guiscard's enthusiasm and strategy supported the invasion of Sicily. After the Greeks' retreat, the so-called idolaters, who were a bold shame to the Catholics, had regained their losses and possessions; however, the island’s liberation, which the forces of the Eastern empire had attempted in vain, was accomplished by a small group of adventurers. In his first attempt, Roger faced both real and mythical dangers from Scylla and Charybdis in an open boat and landed on hostile shores with only sixty soldiers. He drove the Saracens to the gates of Messina and returned safely with spoils from the surrounding areas. In the fortress of Trani, his active and patient bravery was evident. In his old age, he recounted with pride how he and his wife, the countess, were reduced to wearing a single cloak due to the hardships of the siege; how his horse had been killed in a sortie, and he had been captured by the Saracens; but he credited his trusty sword for his escape and insisted on retreating with his saddle on his back to avoid leaving even the smallest trophy in the hands of the enemy. During the siege of Trani, three hundred Normans held back and repelled the island's forces. In the field of Ceramio, one hundred thirty-six Christian soldiers defeated fifty thousand enemy troops, not counting St. George, who fought in the front lines on horseback. The captured banners, along with four camels, were sent to the successor of St. Peter; had these barbaric trophies been displayed not in the Vatican but in the Capitol, they might have revived memories of the Punic triumphs. The small number of Normans likely refers to their knights, honorable soldiers, each accompanied by five or six followers; yet, even with this clarification and after considering their courage, weapons, and reputation, the defeat of such huge numbers pushes the prudent reader to consider whether it was a miracle or a fable. The Arabs of Sicily often received strong support from their fellow countrymen in Africa: during the siege of Palermo, the Norman cavalry was backed by the galleys from Pisa; and in the heat of battle, the rivalry between the brothers turned into a noble and unstoppable competition. After thirty years of war, Roger gained the title of Great Count and secured control over the largest, most fertile island in the Mediterranean; his administration showed a progressive and enlightened mindset that exceeded the understanding of his time and education. The Muslims were allowed to freely practice their religion and keep their property: a philosopher and physician from Mazara, of the lineage of Mohammed, addressed the conqueror and was invited to the court; his geographical work on the seven climates was translated into Latin, and after careful reading, Roger favored the Arabian work over that of the Greek Ptolemy. A small group of Christian natives had aided the Normans' success and were rewarded by the victory of the cross. The island was returned to the authority of the Roman Pope; new bishops were established in key cities, and the clergy were satisfied with generous funding for churches and monasteries. Yet the Catholic hero upheld the rights of civil authority. Instead of relinquishing control of benefices, he skillfully turned the papal claims to his own advantage: the crown's supremacy was secured and expanded by a special bull declaring the princes of Sicily to be hereditary and perpetual legates of the Holy See.

To Robert Guiscard, the conquest of Sicily was more glorious than beneficial: the possession of Apulia and Calabria was inadequate to his ambition; and he resolved to embrace or create the first occasion of invading, perhaps of subduing, the Roman empire of the East. From his first wife, the partner of his humble fortune, he had been divorced under the pretence of consanguinity; and her son Bohemond was destined to imitate, rather than to succeed, his illustrious father. The second wife of Guiscard was the daughter of the princes of Salerno; the Lombards acquiesced in the lineal succession of their son Roger; their five daughters were given in honorable nuptials, and one of them was betrothed, in a tender age, to Constantine, a beautiful youth, the son and heir of the emperor Michael. But the throne of Constantinople was shaken by a revolution: the Imperial family of Ducas was confined to the palace or the cloister; and Robert deplored, and resented, the disgrace of his daughter and the expulsion of his ally. A Greek, who styled himself the father of Constantine, soon appeared at Salerno, and related the adventures of his fall and flight. That unfortunate friend was acknowledged by the duke, and adorned with the pomp and titles of Imperial dignity: in his triumphal progress through Apulia and Calabria, Michael was saluted with the tears and acclamations of the people; and Pope Gregory the Seventh exhorted the bishops to preach, and the Catholics to fight, in the pious work of his restoration. His conversations with Robert were frequent and familiar; and their mutual promises were justified by the valor of the Normans and the treasures of the East. Yet this Michael, by the confession of the Greeks and Latins, was a pageant and an impostor; a monk who had fled from his convent, or a domestic who had served in the palace. The fraud had been contrived by the subtle Guiscard; and he trusted, that after this pretender had given a decent color to his arms, he would sink, at the nod of the conqueror, into his primitive obscurity. But victory was the only argument that could determine the belief of the Greeks; and the ardor of the Latins was much inferior to their credulity: the Norman veterans wished to enjoy the harvest of their toils, and the unwarlike Italians trembled at the known and unknown dangers of a transmarine expedition. In his new levies, Robert exerted the influence of gifts and promises, the terrors of civil and ecclesiastical authority; and some acts of violence might justify the reproach, that age and infancy were pressed without distinction into the service of their unrelenting prince. After two years' incessant preparations the land and naval forces were assembled at Otranto, at the heel, or extreme promontory, of Italy; and Robert was accompanied by his wife, who fought by his side, his son Bohemond, and the representative of the emperor Michael. Thirteen hundred knights of Norman race or discipline, formed the sinews of the army, which might be swelled to thirty thousand followers of every denomination. The men, the horses, the arms, the engines, the wooden towers, covered with raw hides, were embarked on board one hundred and fifty vessels: the transports had been built in the ports of Italy, and the galleys were supplied by the alliance of the republic of Ragusa.

To Robert Guiscard, conquering Sicily was more about glory than gain: owning Apulia and Calabria wasn’t enough for his ambitions; he was determined to find or create the first chance to invade, and maybe even conquer, the Eastern Roman Empire. He had divorced his first wife, who shared his earlier struggles, on the grounds of consanguinity; their son Bohemond was meant to imitate rather than succeed his famous father. Guiscard's second wife was the daughter of the princes of Salerno; the Lombards accepted the succession of their son Roger; their five daughters were married off honorably, and one of them was promised in marriage, at a young age, to Constantine, a handsome young man and the heir of Emperor Michael. However, the throne of Constantinople was shaken by a revolution: the Ducas imperial family was confined to the palace or a monastery; Robert lamented and resented his daughter's disgrace and the ousting of his ally. A Greek, calling himself the father of Constantine, soon appeared in Salerno and recounted his fall and escape. This unfortunate friend was recognized by the duke and given all the trappings and titles of imperial dignity: during his triumphant journey through Apulia and Calabria, Michael was met with tears and cheers from the people; Pope Gregory VII urged bishops to preach and Catholics to fight for his restoration. Robert frequently conversed with him, and their mutual promises were supported by the bravery of the Normans and the riches of the East. Yet, this Michael, as acknowledged by both Greeks and Latins, was a spectacle and a fraud; a monk who had fled his monastery, or a servant from the palace. The deception was masterminded by the cunning Guiscard; he hoped that once this pretender provided a façade for his ambitions, he would fade back into obscurity at the conqueror's command. But victory was the only proof that could convince the Greeks, and the enthusiasm of the Latins was far less than their gullibility: the Norman veterans wanted to reap the benefits of their efforts, while the timid Italians feared both known and unknown dangers of a overseas expedition. In raising his new troops, Robert used gifts and promises, as well as the threats of civil and church authority; some acts of violence could support the claim that both the old and the young were pressed into service by their unyielding ruler. After two years of relentless preparations, the land and naval forces gathered at Otranto, the southern tip of Italy; Robert was joined by his wife, who fought beside him, his son Bohemond, and the representative of Emperor Michael. Thirteen hundred knights of Norman blood or training made up the core of the army, which could grow to thirty thousand followers of all kinds. Supplies of men, horses, arms, and wooden siege towers, covered with raw hides, were loaded onto one hundred and fifty ships: the transports were built in Italian ports, and the galleys were provided by the alliance with the Republic of Ragusa.

At the mouth of the Adriatic Gulf, the shores of Italy and Epirus incline towards each other. The space between Brundusium and Durazzo, the Roman passage, is no more than one hundred miles; at the last station of Otranto, it is contracted to fifty; and this narrow distance had suggested to Pyrrhus and Pompey the sublime or extravagant idea of a bridge. Before the general embarkation, the Norman duke despatched Bohemond with fifteen galleys to seize or threaten the Isle of Corfu, to survey the opposite coast, and to secure a harbor in the neighborhood of Vallona for the landing of the troops. They passed and landed without perceiving an enemy; and this successful experiment displayed the neglect and decay of the naval power of the Greeks. The islands of Epirus and the maritime towns were subdued by the arms or the name of Robert, who led his fleet and army from Corfu (I use the modern appellation) to the siege of Durazzo. That city, the western key of the empire, was guarded by ancient renown, and recent fortifications, by George Palæologus, a patrician, victorious in the Oriental wars, and a numerous garrison of Albanians and Macedonians, who, in every age, have maintained the character of soldiers. In the prosecution of his enterprise, the courage of Guiscard was assailed by every form of danger and mischance. In the most propitious season of the year, as his fleet passed along the coast, a storm of wind and snow unexpectedly arose: the Adriatic was swelled by the raging blast of the south, and a new shipwreck confirmed the old infamy of the Acroceraunian rocks. The sails, the masts, and the oars, were shattered or torn away; the sea and shore were covered with the fragments of vessels, with arms and dead bodies; and the greatest part of the provisions were either drowned or damaged. The ducal galley was laboriously rescued from the waves, and Robert halted seven days on the adjacent cape, to collect the relics of his loss, and revive the drooping spirits of his soldiers. The Normans were no longer the bold and experienced mariners who had explored the ocean from Greenland to Mount Atlas, and who smiled at the petty dangers of the Mediterranean. They had wept during the tempest; they were alarmed by the hostile approach of the Venetians, who had been solicited by the prayers and promises of the Byzantine court. The first day's action was not disadvantageous to Bohemond, a beardless youth, who led the naval powers of his father. All night the galleys of the republic lay on their anchors in the form of a crescent; and the victory of the second day was decided by the dexterity of their evolutions, the station of their archers, the weight of their javelins, and the borrowed aid of the Greek fire. The Apulian and Ragusian vessels fled to the shore, several were cut from their cables, and dragged away by the conqueror; and a sally from the town carried slaughter and dismay to the tents of the Norman duke. A seasonable relief was poured into Durazzo, and as soon as the besiegers had lost the command of the sea, the islands and maritime towns withdrew from the camp the supply of tribute and provision. That camp was soon afflicted with a pestilential disease; five hundred knights perished by an inglorious death; and the list of burials (if all could obtain a decent burial) amounted to ten thousand persons. Under these calamities, the mind of Guiscard alone was firm and invincible; and while he collected new forces from Apulia and Sicily, he battered, or scaled, or sapped, the walls of Durazzo. But his industry and valor were encountered by equal valor and more perfect industry. A movable turret, of a size and capacity to contain five hundred soldiers, had been rolled forwards to the foot of the rampart: but the descent of the door or drawbridge was checked by an enormous beam, and the wooden structure was constantly consumed by artificial flames.

At the entrance of the Adriatic Gulf, the coasts of Italy and Epirus lean towards each other. The distance between Brundusium and Durazzo, the Roman crossing, is no more than one hundred miles; at the last stop of Otranto, it narrows to fifty; and this short distance inspired Pyrrhus and Pompey with the grand or crazy idea of building a bridge. Before the main embarkation, the Norman duke sent Bohemond with fifteen galleys to capture or intimidate the Isle of Corfu, scout the opposite shore, and secure a harbor near Vallona for the troops' landing. They passed and landed without encountering any enemy; this successful venture highlighted the decline of Greek naval power. The islands of Epirus and the coastal towns fell under the control of Robert’s forces, who transported his fleet and army from Corfu (using the modern name) to lay siege to Durazzo. That city, the western gate of the empire, was protected by its historic reputation and recent fortifications, overseen by George Palæologus, a patrician who had triumphed in the Eastern wars, alongside a large garrison of Albanians and Macedonians known for their soldierly spirit throughout the ages. During his campaign, Guiscard faced dangers and misfortunes at every turn. At the most favorable time of the year, as his fleet sailed along the coast, a sudden storm of wind and snow arose: the Adriatic swelled from a fierce southern gust, leading to a shipwreck that reinforced the notorious dangers of the Acroceraunian rocks. The sails, masts, and oars were shattered or torn away; the sea and shore were littered with wreckage, arms, and dead bodies, while most provisions were washed away or ruined. The ducal galley was painstakingly saved from the waves, and Robert spent seven days at the nearby cape to gather what remained of his losses and lift the spirits of his soldiers. The Normans were no longer the bold and skilled seafarers who had navigated the ocean from Greenland to Mount Atlas and who used to scoff at the minor dangers of the Mediterranean. They had wept during the storm; they were worried by the advancing Venetians, urged on by the Byzantine court's pleas and promises. The first day's battle was not unfavorable for Bohemond, a young man without a beard, who commanded his father’s naval force. All night the galleys of the republic sat anchored in a crescent shape; the victory on the second day was determined by their tactical maneuvers, the positioned archers, the weight of their javelins, and the use of Greek fire. The ships from Apulia and Ragusa fled to the shore, several were torn from their cables, and dragged away by the victor; and an attack from the town caused slaughter and panic in the tents of the Norman duke. Timely reinforcements arrived in Durazzo, and as soon as the besiegers lost control of the sea, the islands and coastal towns withdrew their tributes and supplies from the camp. Soon, that camp was struck by a deadly disease; five hundred knights died an undistinguished death; and the burial count (if all could receive a proper burial) reached ten thousand. Amid these tragedies, Guiscard's resolve remained strong and unyielding; while he gathered new troops from Apulia and Sicily, he attacked, scaled, or undermined the walls of Durazzo. Yet, his efforts and bravery were met with equal courage and superior strategy. A movable tower capable of holding five hundred soldiers was brought to the base of the rampart: however, the drop of the door or drawbridge was blocked by a massive beam, and the wooden structure was continually consumed by flames.

While the Roman empire was attacked by the Turks in the East, east, and the Normans in the West, the aged successor of Michael surrendered the sceptre to the hands of Alexius, an illustrious captain, and the founder of the Comnenian dynasty. The princess Anne, his daughter and historian, observes, in her affected style, that even Hercules was unequal to a double combat; and, on this principle, she approves a hasty peace with the Turks, which allowed her father to undertake in person the relief of Durazzo. On his accession, Alexius found the camp without soldiers, and the treasury without money; yet such were the vigor and activity of his measures, that in six months he assembled an army of seventy thousand men, and performed a march of five hundred miles. His troops were levied in Europe and Asia, from Peloponnesus to the Black Sea; his majesty was displayed in the silver arms and rich trappings of the companies of Horse-guards; and the emperor was attended by a train of nobles and princes, some of whom, in rapid succession, had been clothed with the purple, and were indulged by the lenity of the times in a life of affluence and dignity. Their youthful ardor might animate the multitude; but their love of pleasure and contempt of subordination were pregnant with disorder and mischief; and their importunate clamors for speedy and decisive action disconcerted the prudence of Alexius, who might have surrounded and starved the besieging army. The enumeration of provinces recalls a sad comparison of the past and present limits of the Roman world: the raw levies were drawn together in haste and terror; and the garrisons of Anatolia, or Asia Minor, had been purchased by the evacuation of the cities which were immediately occupied by the Turks. The strength of the Greek army consisted in the Varangians, the Scandinavian guards, whose numbers were recently augmented by a colony of exiles and volunteers from the British Island of Thule. Under the yoke of the Norman conqueror, the Danes and English were oppressed and united; a band of adventurous youths resolved to desert a land of slavery; the sea was open to their escape; and, in their long pilgrimage, they visited every coast that afforded any hope of liberty and revenge. They were entertained in the service of the Greek emperor; and their first station was in a new city on the Asiatic shore: but Alexius soon recalled them to the defence of his person and palace; and bequeathed to his successors the inheritance of their faith and valor. The name of a Norman invader revived the memory of their wrongs: they marched with alacrity against the national foe, and panted to regain in Epirus the glory which they had lost in the battle of Hastings. The Varangians were supported by some companies of Franks or Latins; and the rebels, who had fled to Constantinople from the tyranny of Guiscard, were eager to signalize their zeal and gratify their revenge. In this emergency, the emperor had not disdained the impure aid of the Paulicians or Manichæans of Thrace and Bulgaria; and these heretics united with the patience of martyrdom the spirit and discipline of active valor. The treaty with the sultan had procured a supply of some thousand Turks; and the arrows of the Scythian horse were opposed to the lances of the Norman cavalry. On the report and distant prospect of these formidable numbers, Robert assembled a council of his principal officers. "You behold," said he, "your danger: it is urgent and inevitable. The hills are covered with arms and standards; and the emperor of the Greeks is accustomed to wars and triumphs. Obedience and union are our only safety; and I am ready to yield the command to a more worthy leader." The vote and acclamation even of his secret enemies, assured him, in that perilous moment, of their esteem and confidence; and the duke thus continued: "Let us trust in the rewards of victory, and deprive cowardice of the means of escape. Let us burn our vessels and our baggage, and give battle on this spot, as if it were the place of our nativity and our burial." The resolution was unanimously approved; and, without confining himself to his lines, Guiscard awaited in battle-array the nearer approach of the enemy. His rear was covered by a small river; his right wing extended to the sea; his left to the hills: nor was he conscious, perhaps, that on the same ground Cæsar and Pompey had formerly disputed the empire of the world.

While the Roman Empire faced attacks from the Turks in the East and the Normans in the West, the elderly successor of Michael handed over power to Alexius, a notable leader and the founder of the Comnenian dynasty. His daughter, Princess Anne, who was also a historian, remarked in her elaborate style that even Hercules would struggle in a dual battle. Based on this idea, she supported a swift peace with the Turks, allowing her father to personally lead the relief of Durazzo. Upon taking charge, Alexius found the military lacking in troops and the treasury empty; however, his vigorous and proactive measures enabled him to gather an army of seventy thousand men within six months and march five hundred miles. His troops were recruited from Europe and Asia, stretching from Peloponnesus to the Black Sea. His majesty was evident in the silver armor and ornate decorations of the Horse-guards, while the emperor was accompanied by a retinue of nobles and princes, some of whom had recently been elevated to power and enjoyed a life of luxury and respect due to the leniency of the times. Their youthful enthusiasm might inspire the masses, but their love for indulgence and disregard for hierarchy caused disorder and strife; their persistent demands for immediate and bold action unsettled Alexius, who could have surrounded and starved the besieging army. The list of provinces evokes a grim comparison between the past and present boundaries of the Roman world: the hastily assembled soldiers were drawn together out of fear, while the garrisons in Anatolia, or Asia Minor, were depleted as a result of abandoning the cities that the Turks quickly occupied. The strength of the Greek army relied on the Varangians, the Scandinavian guards, whose ranks had recently swelled due to a group of exiles and volunteers from the British Isle of Thule. Under the Norman conqueror's control, the Danes and English were oppressed and united; a group of daring youths decided to escape from a land of bondage; the sea was their pathway to freedom; and during their long journey, they explored every shore that promised hope of liberty and revenge. They joined the service of the Greek emperor, initially stationed in a new city on the Asian shore, but Alexius soon recalled them to protect himself and his palace, passing their legacy of loyalty and bravery to his successors. The mention of a Norman invader rekindled memories of their grievances: they eagerly marched against their national enemy and yearned to reclaim in Epirus the honor they had lost at the Battle of Hastings. The Varangians received support from some companies of Franks or Latins, and the rebels who had fled to Constantinople from Guiscard’s tyranny were keen to demonstrate their zeal and satisfy their thirst for revenge. In this critical situation, the emperor did not reject the controversial support of the Paulicians or Manichæans from Thrace and Bulgaria; these heretics combined the endurance of martyrs with the spirit and discipline of active valor. A treaty with the sultan had secured the assistance of several thousand Turks; the arrows of the Scythian cavalry faced off against the lances of the Norman horsemen. On hearing the reports and seeing the distant sight of these formidable forces, Robert called a council of his top officers. "You see," he said, "your peril: it is urgent and unavoidable. The hills are filled with arms and banners; the emperor of the Greeks is experienced in wars and victories. Togetherness and obedience are our only path to safety; I am willing to relinquish command to a more capable leader." The vote and cheers from even his hidden adversaries reassured him, in that moment of danger, of their respect and trust, and the duke continued: "Let us believe in the rewards of victory and strip cowardice of any means of escape. Let us burn our ships and our supplies and engage in battle here, as if this were our birthplace and final resting place." The decision was unanimously embraced, and without limiting himself to his established lines, Guiscard stood ready for battle as the enemy approached. His rear was protected by a small river; his right flank extended to the sea; his left towards the hills; possibly unaware that this very ground was where Caesar and Pompey had once contested the empire of the world.

Against the advice of his wisest captains, Alexius resolved to risk the event of a general action, and exhorted the garrison of Durazzo to assist their own deliverance by a well-timed sally from the town. He marched in two columns to surprise the Normans before daybreak on two different sides: his light cavalry was scattered over the plain; the archers formed the second line; and the Varangians claimed the honors of the vanguard. In the first onset, the battle-axes of the strangers made a deep and bloody impression on the army of Guiscard, which was now reduced to fifteen thousand men. The Lombards and Calabrians ignominiously turned their backs; they fled towards the river and the sea; but the bridge had been broken down to check the sally of the garrison, and the coast was lined with the Venetian galleys, who played their engines among the disorderly throng. On the verge of ruin, they were saved by the spirit and conduct of their chiefs. Gaita, the wife of Robert, is painted by the Greeks as a warlike Amazon, a second Pallas; less skilful in arts, but not less terrible in arms, than the Athenian goddess: though wounded by an arrow, she stood her ground, and strove, by her exhortation and example, to rally the flying troops. Her female voice was seconded by the more powerful voice and arm of the Norman duke, as calm in action as he was magnanimous in council: "Whither," he cried aloud, "whither do ye fly? Your enemy is implacable; and death is less grievous than servitude." The moment was decisive: as the Varangians advanced before the line, they discovered the nakedness of their flanks: the main battle of the duke, of eight hundred knights, stood firm and entire; they couched their lances, and the Greeks deplore the furious and irresistible shock of the French cavalry. Alexius was not deficient in the duties of a soldier or a general; but he no sooner beheld the slaughter of the Varangians, and the flight of the Turks, than he despised his subjects, and despaired of his fortune. The princess Anne, who drops a tear on this melancholy event, is reduced to praise the strength and swiftness of her father's horse, and his vigorous struggle when he was almost overthrown by the stroke of a lance, which had shivered the Imperial helmet. His desperate valor broke through a squadron of Franks who opposed his flight; and after wandering two days and as many nights in the mountains, he found some repose, of body, though not of mind, in the walls of Lychnidus. The victorious Robert reproached the tardy and feeble pursuit which had suffered the escape of so illustrious a prize: but he consoled his disappointment by the trophies and standards of the field, the wealth and luxury of the Byzantine camp, and the glory of defeating an army five times more numerous than his own. A multitude of Italians had been the victims of their own fears; but only thirty of his knights were slain in this memorable day. In the Roman host, the loss of Greeks, Turks, and English, amounted to five or six thousand: the plain of Durazzo was stained with noble and royal blood; and the end of the impostor Michael was more honorable than his life.

Against the advice of his smartest captains, Alexius decided to risk a full-blown battle and encouraged the garrison of Durazzo to help themselves by launching a well-timed attack from the town. He marched in two columns to surprise the Normans before dawn on two different sides: his light cavalry spread out over the plain, the archers formed the second line, and the Varangians led the vanguard. In the first clash, the battle-axes of the outsiders inflicted a deep and bloody toll on Guiscard's army, which had dwindled to fifteen thousand men. The Lombards and Calabrians shamefully turned and fled towards the river and the sea, but the bridge had been destroyed to prevent the garrison from escaping, and the coast was filled with Venetian galleys, who attacked the chaotic crowd. On the brink of disaster, they were saved by the courage and leadership of their leaders. Gaita, Robert's wife, is depicted by the Greeks as a fierce warrior, a second Pallas; less skilled in arts, but just as fearsome in combat as the Athenian goddess: despite being wounded by an arrow, she held her ground, trying to rally the retreating troops with her words and example. Her female voice was supported by the stronger voice and arm of the Norman duke, who was as calm in action as he was noble in strategy: "Where are you fleeing to?" he shouted. "Your enemy is ruthless; death is better than slavery." The moment was crucial: as the Varangians advanced to the front, they exposed the vulnerability of their flanks: the main force of the duke, consisting of eight hundred knights, stood firm and intact; they readied their lances, and the Greeks lamented the furious and unstoppable charge of the French cavalry. Alexius was fully capable as a soldier and a general; however, when he saw the slaughter of the Varangians and the flight of the Turks, he looked down on his subjects and lost hope in his fortunes. The princess Anne, shedding a tear over this tragic event, was left to praise the strength and speed of her father's horse and his fierce struggle when he was almost toppled by a lance strike that shattered his Imperial helmet. His desperate bravery broke through a group of Franks who blocked his escape; after wandering for two days and nights in the mountains, he finally found some rest, though not peace of mind, within the walls of Lychnidus. The victorious Robert criticized the slow and weak pursuit that allowed such a valuable target to escape: but he eased his disappointment with the trophies and banners of the battlefield, the wealth and luxury of the Byzantine camp, and the glory of defeating an army five times larger than his own. A large number of Italians fell victim to their own fears; however, only thirty of his knights were killed on this historic day. Among the Roman forces, the loss of Greeks, Turks, and English totaled five or six thousand: the plain of Durazzo was soaked with noble and royal blood; and the demise of the impostor Michael was more honorable than his life.

It is more than probable that Guiscard was not afflicted by the loss of a costly pageant, which had merited only the contempt and derision of the Greeks. After their defeat, they still persevered in the defence of Durazzo; and a Venetian commander supplied the place of George Palæologus, who had been imprudently called away from his station. The tents of the besiegers were converted into barracks, to sustain the inclemency of the winter; and in answer to the defiance of the garrison, Robert insinuated, that his patience was at least equal to their obstinacy. Perhaps he already trusted to his secret correspondence with a Venetian noble, who sold the city for a rich and honorable marriage. At the dead of night, several rope-ladders were dropped from the walls; the light Calabrians ascended in silence; and the Greeks were awakened by the name and trumpets of the conqueror. Yet they defended the streets three days against an enemy already master of the rampart; and near seven months elapsed between the first investment and the final surrender of the place. From Durazzo, the Norman duke advanced into the heart of Epirus or Albania; traversed the first mountains of Thessaly; surprised three hundred English in the city of Castoria; approached Thessalonica; and made Constantinople tremble. A more pressing duty suspended the prosecution of his ambitious designs. By shipwreck, pestilence, and the sword, his army was reduced to a third of the original numbers; and instead of being recruited from Italy, he was informed, by plaintive epistles, of the mischiefs and dangers which had been produced by his absence: the revolt of the cities and barons of Apulia; the distress of the pope; and the approach or invasion of Henry king of Germany. Highly presuming that his person was sufficient for the public safety, he repassed the sea in a single brigantine, and left the remains of the army under the command of his son and the Norman counts, exhorting Bohemond to respect the freedom of his peers, and the counts to obey the authority of their leader. The son of Guiscard trod in the footsteps of his father; and the two destroyers are compared, by the Greeks, to the caterpillar and the locust, the last of whom devours whatever has escaped the teeth of the former. After winning two battles against the emperor, he descended into the plain of Thessaly, and besieged Larissa, the fabulous realm of Achilles, which contained the treasure and magazines of the Byzantine camp. Yet a just praise must not be refused to the fortitude and prudence of Alexius, who bravely struggled with the calamities of the times. In the poverty of the state, he presumed to borrow the superfluous ornaments of the churches: the desertion of the Manichæans was supplied by some tribes of Moldavia: a reënforcement of seven thousand Turks replaced and revenged the loss of their brethren; and the Greek soldiers were exercised to ride, to draw the bow, and to the daily practice of ambuscades and evolutions. Alexius had been taught by experience, that the formidable cavalry of the Franks on foot was unfit for action, and almost incapable of motion; his archers were directed to aim their arrows at the horse rather than the man; and a variety of spikes and snares were scattered over the ground on which he might expect an attack. In the neighborhood of Larissa the events of war were protracted and balanced. The courage of Bohemond was always conspicuous, and often successful; but his camp was pillaged by a stratagem of the Greeks; the city was impregnable; and the venal or discontented counts deserted his standard, betrayed their trusts, and enlisted in the service of the emperor. Alexius returned to Constantinople with the advantage, rather than the honor, of victory. After evacuating the conquests which he could no longer defend, the son of Guiscard embarked for Italy, and was embraced by a father who esteemed his merit, and sympathized in his misfortune.

It’s likely that Guiscard wasn’t too upset about losing an expensive show that only got the scorn and mockery of the Greeks. After their defeat, the Greeks kept fighting to defend Durazzo, and a Venetian commander took over for George Palæologus, who had foolishly left his post. The besiegers’ tents were turned into barracks to endure the harsh winter; in response to the garrison’s taunts, Robert hinted that his patience matched their stubbornness. He probably already trusted in his secret communication with a Venetian noble, who sold the city for a rich and honorable marriage. Late at night, several rope ladders were dropped from the walls; the nimble Calabrians climbed up quietly, and the Greeks were awakened by the name and trumpets of the conqueror. Still, they defended the streets for three days against an enemy who had already taken the ramparts, and nearly seven months passed between the initial siege and the city’s final surrender. From Durazzo, the Norman duke pushed into the heart of Epirus or Albania, crossed the initial mountains of Thessaly, caught three hundred English soldiers in the city of Castoria, neared Thessalonica, and made Constantinople quake. A more urgent obligation halted his ambitious plans. Through shipwrecks, disease, and warfare, his army was reduced to a third of its original size; instead of being reinforced from Italy, he received sorrowful letters about the troubles and dangers caused by his absence: the revolt of the cities and barons of Apulia, the pope’s distress, and the approach of Henry, king of Germany. Confident that his presence was crucial for public safety, he crossed the sea again in a single brigantine, leaving what remained of the army under the command of his son and the Norman counts, urging Bohemond to respect the freedom of his peers and the counts to follow their leader. Guiscard’s son followed in his father’s footsteps, and the two destroyers were compared by the Greeks to a caterpillar and a locust, with the latter devouring whatever the former missed. After winning two battles against the emperor, he descended into the plain of Thessaly and laid siege to Larissa, the legendary kingdom of Achilles, which held the treasures and supplies of the Byzantine camp. However, Alexius deserves rightful praise for his bravery and wisdom as he faced the challenges of the time. In the state’s poverty, he dared to borrow unnecessary ornaments from the churches; the departure of the Manichæans was filled by some tribes from Moldavia; a reinforcements of seven thousand Turks replaced and avenged their fallen comrades; and the Greek soldiers trained to ride, shoot bows, and practice ambush tactics and formations regularly. Alexius learned from experience that the formidable cavalry of the Franks was unfit for action when on foot; his archers were directed to aim at the horses rather than the men; and various spikes and snares were scattered on the ground where he expected an attack. In the vicinity of Larissa, the events of war dragged on and remained uncertain. Bohemond's courage was always evident and often victorious; however, his camp was raided through a Greek trick; the city was impregnable; and the bought or disgruntled counts abandoned his standard, betrayed their trusts, and joined the emperor’s service. Alexius returned to Constantinople with advantages rather than the honor of victory. After abandoning the conquests he could no longer defend, Guiscard's son sailed back to Italy, where he was welcomed by a father who valued his achievements and shared in his misfortunes.





Chapter LVI: The Saracens, The Franks And The Normans.—Part IV.

Of the Latin princes, the allies of Alexius and enemies of Robert, the most prompt and powerful was Henry the Third or Fourth, king of Germany and Italy, and future emperor of the West. The epistle of the Greek monarch to his brother is filled with the warmest professions of friendship, and the most lively desire of strengthening their alliance by every public and private tie. He congratulates Henry on his success in a just and pious war; and complains that the prosperity of his own empire is disturbed by the audacious enterprises of the Norman Robert. The lists of his presents expresses the manners of the age—a radiated crown of gold, a cross set with pearls to hang on the breast, a case of relics, with the names and titles of the saints, a vase of crystal, a vase of sardonyx, some balm, most probably of Mecca, and one hundred pieces of purple. To these he added a more solid present, of one hundred and forty-four thousand Byzantines of gold, with a further assurance of two hundred and sixteen thousand, so soon as Henry should have entered in arms the Apulian territories, and confirmed by an oath the league against the common enemy. The German, who was already in Lombardy at the head of an army and a faction, accepted these liberal offers, and marched towards the south: his speed was checked by the sound of the battle of Durazzo; but the influence of his arms, or name, in the hasty return of Robert, was a full equivalent for the Grecian bribe. Henry was the severe adversary of the Normans, the allies and vassals of Gregory the Seventh, his implacable foe. The long quarrel of the throne and mitre had been recently kindled by the zeal and ambition of that haughty priest: the king and the pope had degraded each other; and each had seated a rival on the temporal or spiritual throne of his antagonist. After the defeat and death of his Swabian rebel, Henry descended into Italy, to assume the Imperial crown, and to drive from the Vatican the tyrant of the church. But the Roman people adhered to the cause of Gregory: their resolution was fortified by supplies of men and money from Apulia; and the city was thrice ineffectually besieged by the king of Germany. In the fourth year he corrupted, as it is said, with Byzantine gold, the nobles of Rome, whose estates and castles had been ruined by the war. The gates, the bridges, and fifty hostages, were delivered into his hands: the anti-pope, Clement the Third, was consecrated in the Lateran: the grateful pontiff crowned his protector in the Vatican; and the emperor Henry fixed his residence in the Capitol, as the lawful successor of Augustus and Charlemagne. The ruins of the Septizonium were still defended by the nephew of Gregory: the pope himself was invested in the castle of St. Angelo; and his last hope was in the courage and fidelity of his Norman vassal. Their friendship had been interrupted by some reciprocal injuries and complaints; but, on this pressing occasion, Guiscard was urged by the obligation of his oath, by his interest, more potent than oaths, by the love of fame, and his enmity to the two emperors. Unfurling the holy banner, he resolved to fly to the relief of the prince of the apostles: the most numerous of his armies, six thousand horse, and thirty thousand foot, was instantly assembled; and his march from Salerno to Rome was animated by the public applause and the promise of the divine favor. Henry, invincible in sixty-six battles, trembled at his approach; recollected some indispensable affairs that required his presence in Lombardy; exhorted the Romans to persevere in their allegiance; and hastily retreated three days before the entrance of the Normans. In less than three years, the son of Tancred of Hauteville enjoyed the glory of delivering the pope, and of compelling the two emperors, of the East and West, to fly before his victorious arms. But the triumph of Robert was clouded by the calamities of Rome. By the aid of the friends of Gregory, the walls had been perforated or scaled; but the Imperial faction was still powerful and active; on the third day, the people rose in a furious tumult; and a hasty word of the conqueror, in his defence or revenge, was the signal of fire and pillage. The Saracens of Sicily, the subjects of Roger, and auxiliaries of his brother, embraced this fair occasion of rifling and profaning the holy city of the Christians: many thousands of the citizens, in the sight, and by the allies, of their spiritual father were exposed to violation, captivity, or death; and a spacious quarter of the city, from the Lateran to the Coliseum, was consumed by the flames, and devoted to perpetual solitude. From a city, where he was now hated, and might be no longer feared, Gregory retired to end his days in the palace of Salerno. The artful pontiff might flatter the vanity of Guiscard with the hope of a Roman or Imperial crown; but this dangerous measure, which would have inflamed the ambition of the Norman, must forever have alienated the most faithful princes of Germany.

Of the Latin princes allied with Alexius against Robert, the most immediate and powerful was Henry, either the Third or Fourth, king of Germany and Italy, and future emperor of the West. In his letter to his brother, the Greek monarch expresses deep friendship and a strong desire to strengthen their alliance through every public and private connection. He congratulates Henry on his success in a just and righteous war and complains that the prosperity of his empire is troubled by the bold actions of the Norman Robert. The list of his gifts reflects the customs of the time—a crown of gold, a cross adorned with pearls to wear on the chest, a case of relics with the names and titles of saints, a crystal vase, a sardonyx vase, some balm, likely from Mecca, and one hundred pieces of purple cloth. He also included a more substantial gift of one hundred and forty-four thousand gold Byzantines, with a promise of an additional two hundred sixteen thousand once Henry marched into Apulia and confirmed an oath for their alliance against the common enemy. The German king, already in Lombardy at the head of an army and faction, accepted these generous offers and marched south. His progress was slowed by the sounds of the battle at Durazzo, but the impact of his name and arms was enough to force Robert's hasty retreat, which balanced the Greek's bribe. Henry was a fierce opponent of the Normans, allies of Gregory the Seventh, his relentless enemy. The longstanding conflict between the throne and the church had been reignited by the zeal and ambition of that arrogant priest: the king and pope had each degraded the other and seated rivals on each other's temporal or spiritual thrones. After defeating and killing his Swabian rebel, Henry went to Italy to claim the Imperial crown and oust the tyrant from the Vatican. But the Roman people stood by Gregory's side: their resolve was bolstered by supplies of men and money from Apulia, and the city was unsuccessfully besieged by the king of Germany three times. In the fourth year, he allegedly bribed the Roman nobles with Byzantine gold whose estates and castles had been destroyed by the war. The gates, bridges, and fifty hostages were handed over to him: the anti-pope, Clement the Third, was consecrated in the Lateran; the grateful pope crowned his protector in the Vatican; and Emperor Henry made his home in the Capitol as the rightful successor of Augustus and Charlemagne. The ruins of the Septizonium were still held by Gregory's nephew; the pope himself was holed up in the castle of St. Angelo, with his last hope resting on the courage and loyalty of his Norman vassal. Their friendship had been strained by mutual grievances, but in this urgent situation, Guiscard was compelled by his oath, by his self-interest even more powerful than oaths, by his desire for glory, and his hostility toward the two emperors. Unfurling the holy banner, he resolved to rush to the aid of the prince of the apostles: his largest army, consisting of six thousand horsemen and thirty thousand foot soldiers, was quickly gathered; and his march from Salerno to Rome was met with public cheers and the promise of divine favor. Henry, unbeaten in sixty-six battles, felt fear at his approach; he recalled some urgent matters needing his attention in Lombardy; urged the Romans to remain loyal; and hastily retreated three days before the Normans arrived. In less than three years, the son of Tancred of Hauteville was celebrated for delivering the pope and forcing the two emperors of the East and West to flee before his victorious forces. However, Robert's triumph was marred by the sufferings in Rome. Thanks to Gregory’s supporters, the walls were breached or climbed; yet the Imperial faction remained strong and active; on the third day, the people erupted in a furious riot; and a swift remark from the conqueror, either in defense or retaliation, ignited chaos, leading to destruction and looting. The Saracens of Sicily, followers of Roger and allies of his brother, seized this opportunity to pillage and desecrate the holy city of Christians: thousands of citizens, in full view of their spiritual leader, were left vulnerable to violation, enslavement, or death; and a large section of the city, stretching from the Lateran to the Coliseum, was engulfed in flames, leaving it desolate. From a city where he was now despised and no longer feared, Gregory retreated to spend his final days in the palace of Salerno. The cunning pontiff tried to elevate Guiscard's pride with the prospect of a Roman or Imperial crown; however, such a risky move, which would have stoked the Norman's ambition, would have forever alienated the most loyal princes of Germany.

The deliverer and scourge of Rome might have indulged himself in a season of repose; but in the same year of the flight of the German emperor, the indefatigable Robert resumed the design of his eastern conquests. The zeal or gratitude of Gregory had promised to his valor the kingdoms of Greece and Asia; his troops were assembled in arms, flushed with success, and eager for action. Their numbers, in the language of Homer, are compared by Anna to a swarm of bees; yet the utmost and moderate limits of the powers of Guiscard have been already defined; they were contained on this second occasion in one hundred and twenty vessels; and as the season was far advanced, the harbor of Brundusium was preferred to the open road of Otranto. Alexius, apprehensive of a second attack, had assiduously labored to restore the naval forces of the empire; and obtained from the republic of Venice an important succor of thirty-six transports, fourteen galleys, and nine galiots or ships of extra-ordinary strength and magnitude. Their services were liberally paid by the license or monopoly of trade, a profitable gift of many shops and houses in the port of Constantinople, and a tribute to St. Mark, the more acceptable, as it was the produce of a tax on their rivals at Amalphi. By the union of the Greeks and Venetians, the Adriatic was covered with a hostile fleet; but their own neglect, or the vigilance of Robert, the change of a wind, or the shelter of a mist, opened a free passage; and the Norman troops were safely disembarked on the coast of Epirus. With twenty strong and well-appointed galleys, their intrepid duke immediately sought the enemy, and though more accustomed to fight on horseback, he trusted his own life, and the lives of his brother and two sons, to the event of a naval combat. The dominion of the sea was disputed in three engagements, in sight of the Isle of Corfu: in the two former, the skill and numbers of the allies were superior; but in the third, the Normans obtained a final and complete victory. The light brigantines of the Greeks were scattered in ignominious flight: the nine castles of the Venetians maintained a more obstinate conflict; seven were sunk, two were taken; two thousand five hundred captives implored in vain the mercy of the victor; and the daughter of Alexius deplores the loss of thirteen thousand of his subjects or allies. The want of experience had been supplied by the genius of Guiscard; and each evening, when he had sounded a retreat, he calmly explored the causes of his repulse, and invented new methods how to remedy his own defects, and to baffle the advantages of the enemy. The winter season suspended his progress: with the return of spring he again aspired to the conquest of Constantinople; but, instead of traversing the hills of Epirus, he turned his arms against Greece and the islands, where the spoils would repay the labor, and where the land and sea forces might pursue their joint operations with vigor and effect. But, in the Isle of Cephalonia, his projects were fatally blasted by an epidemical disease: Robert himself, in the seventieth year of his age, expired in his tent; and a suspicion of poison was imputed, by public rumor, to his wife, or to the Greek emperor. This premature death might allow a boundless scope for the imagination of his future exploits; and the event sufficiently declares, that the Norman greatness was founded on his life. Without the appearance of an enemy, a victorious army dispersed or retreated in disorder and consternation; and Alexius, who had trembled for his empire, rejoiced in his deliverance. The galley which transported the remains of Guiscard was ship-wrecked on the Italian shore; but the duke's body was recovered from the sea, and deposited in the sepulchre of Venusia, a place more illustrious for the birth of Horace than for the burial of the Norman heroes. Roger, his second son and successor, immediately sunk to the humble station of a duke of Apulia: the esteem or partiality of his father left the valiant Bohemond to the inheritance of his sword. The national tranquillity was disturbed by his claims, till the first crusade against the infidels of the East opened a more splendid field of glory and conquest.

The deliverer and scourge of Rome could have taken a break; however, in the same year that the German emperor fled, the tireless Robert picked up his plans for eastern conquests again. Gregory’s zeal or gratitude had promised him the kingdoms of Greece and Asia; his troops were ready for battle, energized by past victories, and eager for more action. Anna compares their numbers, in Homeric style, to a swarm of bees; yet the maximum, and reasonable, limits of Guiscard's might had already been set at one hundred and twenty ships this time. With the season well advanced, they chose the harbor of Brundusium over the open waters of Otranto. Alexius, worried about a second attack, worked hard to restore the naval forces of the empire, securing crucial help from the Republic of Venice, which provided thirty-six transports, fourteen galleys, and nine powerful ships. Their services were generously compensated through trade licenses, a profitable privilege of many shops and homes in the port of Constantinople, along with a tribute to St. Mark, especially welcome as it stemmed from a tax on their rivals in Amalfi. By joining forces, the Greeks and Venetians filled the Adriatic with a hostile fleet; but due to their own oversight, Robert’s vigilance, a change in wind, or the cover of fog, a clear passage opened, allowing the Norman troops to land safely on the coast of Epirus. With twenty strong, well-equipped galleys, their fearless duke immediately sought out the enemy, and although he was more used to fighting on horseback, he put his life, along with the lives of his brother and two sons, at stake in a naval battle. They fought for control of the sea in three skirmishes near the Isle of Corfu: in the first two, the allies had superior skill and numbers; but in the third, the Normans achieved a decisive victory. The Greek light ships scattered in disgraceful retreat; the nine Venetian castles put up a tougher fight—seven were sunk and two captured; two thousand five hundred captives pleaded in vain for mercy from the victor, while Alexius’s daughter mourned the loss of thirteen thousand of his subjects or allies. The lack of experience was compensated for by Guiscard's brilliance; each evening, after signaling a retreat, he calmly analyzed the causes of setbacks and devised new strategies to remedy his flaws and undermine the enemy's advantages. Winter halted his advances; when spring returned, he aimed once more for the conquest of Constantinople, but instead of crossing the hills of Epirus, he turned his efforts toward Greece and the islands, where the spoils would reward the effort and where land and naval forces could work together effectively and energetically. However, in the Isle of Cephalonia, his plans were tragically derailed by an epidemic: Robert himself died in his tent at seventy; rumors suggested poison, possibly from his wife or the Greek emperor. This untimely death opened up endless possibilities in people's imaginations about his future exploits; and the outcome clearly showed that Norman power depended on his life. Without any enemies in sight, a victorious army fell into disarray and panic; and Alexius, who had feared for his empire, celebrated his salvation. The galley carrying Guiscard’s remains was shipwrecked on the Italian coast, but his body was recovered from the sea and laid to rest in Venusia, a place better known for Horace's birthplace than for the burial of Norman heroes. Roger, his second son and successor, quickly dropped to the modest title of duke of Apulia; the honor or preference of his father left the courageous Bohemond to inherit his sword. National stability was disrupted by his claims until the first crusade against the infidels of the East opened a more glorious path for conquest.

Of human life, the most glorious or humble prospects are alike and soon bounded by the sepulchre. The male line of Robert Guiscard was extinguished, both in Apulia and at Antioch, in the second generation; but his younger brother became the father of a line of kings; and the son of the great count was endowed with the name, the conquests, and the spirit, of the first Roger. The heir of that Norman adventurer was born in Sicily; and, at the age of only four years, he succeeded to the sovereignty of the island, a lot which reason might envy, could she indulge for a moment the visionary, though virtuous wish of dominion. Had Roger been content with his fruitful patrimony, a happy and grateful people might have blessed their benefactor; and if a wise administration could have restored the prosperous times of the Greek colonies, the opulence and power of Sicily alone might have equalled the widest scope that could be acquired and desolated by the sword of war. But the ambition of the great count was ignorant of these noble pursuits; it was gratified by the vulgar means of violence and artifice. He sought to obtain the undivided possession of Palermo, of which one moiety had been ceded to the elder branch; struggled to enlarge his Calabrian limits beyond the measure of former treaties; and impatiently watched the declining health of his cousin William of Apulia, the grandson of Robert. On the first intelligence of his premature death, Roger sailed from Palermo with seven galleys, cast anchor in the Bay of Salerno, received, after ten days' negotiation, an oath of fidelity from the Norman capital, commanded the submission of the barons, and extorted a legal investiture from the reluctant popes, who could not long endure either the friendship or enmity of a powerful vassal. The sacred spot of Benevento was respectfully spared, as the patrimony of St. Peter; but the reduction of Capua and Naples completed the design of his uncle Guiscard; and the sole inheritance of the Norman conquests was possessed by the victorious Roger. A conscious superiority of power and merit prompted him to disdain the titles of duke and of count; and the Isle of Sicily, with a third perhaps of the continent of Italy, might form the basis of a kingdom which would only yield to the monarchies of France and England. The chiefs of the nation who attended his coronation at Palermo might doubtless pronounce under what name he should reign over them; but the example of a Greek tyrant or a Saracen emir was insufficient to justify his regal character; and the nine kings of the Latin world might disclaim their new associate, unless he were consecrated by the authority of the supreme pontiff. The pride of Anacletus was pleased to confer a title, which the pride of the Norman had stooped to solicit; but his own legitimacy was attacked by the adverse election of Innocent the Second; and while Anacletus sat in the Vatican, the successful fugitive was acknowledged by the nations of Europe. The infant monarchy of Roger was shaken, and almost overthrown, by the unlucky choice of an ecclesiastical patron; and the sword of Lothaire the Second of Germany, the excommunications of Innocent, the fleets of Pisa, and the zeal of St. Bernard, were united for the ruin of the Sicilian robber. After a gallant resistance, the Norman prince was driven from the continent of Italy: a new duke of Apulia was invested by the pope and the emperor, each of whom held one end of the gonfanon, or flagstaff, as a token that they asserted their right, and suspended their quarrel. But such jealous friendship was of short and precarious duration: the German armies soon vanished in disease and desertion: the Apulian duke, with all his adherents, was exterminated by a conqueror who seldom forgave either the dead or the living; like his predecessor Leo the Ninth, the feeble though haughty pontiff became the captive and friend of the Normans; and their reconciliation was celebrated by the eloquence of Bernard, who now revered the title and virtues of the king of Sicily.

Of human life, both the most glorious and humble prospects are equally limited and inevitably end at the grave. The male line of Robert Guiscard was extinguished in both Apulia and Antioch after just two generations; however, his younger brother became the father of a line of kings. The son of the great count inherited the name, the conquests, and the spirit of the first Roger. The heir of that Norman adventurer was born in Sicily, and at just four years old, he took over the rule of the island—a position that reason might envy, even if she could indulge in a moment's virtuous desire for power. If Roger had been satisfied with his fruitful inheritance, a happy and grateful people could have blessed their benefactor, and if wise governance could have restored the prosperous days of the Greek colonies, the wealth and power of Sicily alone might have rivaled the farthest reaches that could be gained or lost in warfare. But the ambition of the great count was blind to such noble aspirations; it was satisfied with common tactics of violence and deceit. He aimed to claim absolute control of Palermo, of which half had been granted to the elder branch; pressed to expand his influence in Calabria beyond previous treaties; and impatiently monitored the declining health of his cousin William of Apulia, Robert's grandson. Upon hearing the news of William's untimely death, Roger set sail from Palermo with seven galleys, anchored in the Bay of Salerno, and after ten days of negotiations, secured an oath of loyalty from the Norman capital. He commanded the barons' submission and forced a legal investiture from the reluctant popes, who could not long endure either the friendship or enmity of a powerful vassal. The sacred site of Benevento was respectfully left alone, as it was St. Peter's heritage; but the conquest of Capua and Naples finalized his uncle Guiscard's plans, and the sole inheritance of the Norman conquests belonged to the victorious Roger. A proud sense of superiority in power and merit made him look down upon the titles of duke and count; and the Isle of Sicily, along with about a third of the Italian mainland, could form the basis of a kingdom that would only yield to the monarchies of France and England. The local leaders present at his coronation in Palermo could surely decide under what title he should reign over them; however, the example of a Greek tyrant or a Saracen emir was not enough to legitimize his royal status, and the nine kings of the Latin world might reject their new peer unless he was consecrated by the authority of the supreme pontiff. Anacletus took pride in granting a title that the Norman had humbly asked for; but his own legitimacy was challenged by the opposing election of Innocent the Second; and while Anacletus sat in the Vatican, the successful outcast was recognized by the nations of Europe. Roger's fledgling monarchy was shaken and nearly toppled by the unfortunate choice of an ecclesiastical ally; and the sword of Lothaire the Second of Germany, Innocent's excommunications, the fleets from Pisa, and the fervor of St. Bernard came together to bring down the Sicilian brigand. After a brave resistance, the Norman prince was driven from the Italian mainland: a new duke of Apulia was appointed by the pope and the emperor, each holding one end of the gonfanon, or flagpole, as a sign of their shared claim and to temporarily set aside their dispute. But such jealous camaraderie was short-lived and precarious: the German armies soon collapsed due to disease and desertion; the Apulian duke and all his supporters were wiped out by a conqueror who rarely spared either the living or the dead. Like his predecessor Leo the Ninth, the weak yet proud pope became both captive and ally of the Normans; and their reconciliation was celebrated by the eloquence of Bernard, who now honored the title and virtues of the king of Sicily.

As a penance for his impious war against the successor of St. Peter, that monarch might have promised to display the banner of the cross, and he accomplished with ardor a vow so propitious to his interest and revenge. The recent injuries of Sicily might provoke a just retaliation on the heads of the Saracens: the Normans, whose blood had been mingled with so many subject streams, were encouraged to remember and emulate the naval trophies of their fathers, and in the maturity of their strength they contended with the decline of an African power. When the Fatimite caliph departed for the conquest of Egypt, he rewarded the real merit and apparent fidelity of his servant Joseph with a gift of his royal mantle, and forty Arabian horses, his palace with its sumptuous furniture, and the government of the kingdoms of Tunis and Algiers. The Zeirides, the descendants of Joseph, forgot their allegiance and gratitude to a distant benefactor, grasped and abused the fruits of prosperity; and after running the little course of an Oriental dynasty, were now fainting in their own weakness. On the side of the land, they were pressed by the Almohades, the fanatic princes of Morocco, while the sea-coast was open to the enterprises of the Greeks and Franks, who, before the close of the eleventh century, had extorted a ransom of two hundred thousand pieces of gold. By the first arms of Roger, the island or rock of Malta, which has been since ennobled by a military and religious colony, was inseparably annexed to the crown of Sicily. Tripoli, a strong and maritime city, was the next object of his attack; and the slaughter of the males, the captivity of the females, might be justified by the frequent practice of the Moslems themselves. The capital of the Zeirides was named Africa from the country, and Mahadia from the Arabian founder: it is strongly built on a neck of land, but the imperfection of the harbor is not compensated by the fertility of the adjacent plain. Mahadia was besieged by George the Sicilian admiral, with a fleet of one hundred and fifty galleys, amply provided with men and the instruments of mischief: the sovereign had fled, the Moorish governor refused to capitulate, declined the last and irresistible assault, and secretly escaping with the Moslem inhabitants abandoned the place and its treasures to the rapacious Franks. In successive expeditions, the king of Sicily or his lieutenants reduced the cities of Tunis, Safax, Capsia, Bona, and a long tract of the sea-coast; the fortresses were garrisoned, the country was tributary, and a boast that it held Africa in subjection might be inscribed with some flattery on the sword of Roger. After his death, that sword was broken; and these transmarine possessions were neglected, evacuated, or lost, under the troubled reign of his successor. The triumphs of Scipio and Belisarius have proved, that the African continent is neither inaccessible nor invincible; yet the great princes and powers of Christendom have repeatedly failed in their armaments against the Moors, who may still glory in the easy conquest and long servitude of Spain.

As a form of penance for his irreverent war against the successor of St. Peter, that king might have promised to fly the banner of the cross, and he passionately fulfilled a vow that was beneficial to his interests and revenge. The recent wrongs suffered by Sicily could justify a rightful response against the Saracens: the Normans, whose blood had mixed with so many different streams, were inspired to remember and strive for the naval victories of their ancestors, and in their prime, they battled a waning African power. When the Fatimid caliph set out to conquer Egypt, he rewarded his loyal servant Joseph with a gift of his royal cloak, forty Arabian horses, a lavish palace filled with fine furnishings, and the governorship of the kingdoms of Tunis and Algiers. The Zeirides, descendants of Joseph, forgot their allegiance and gratitude to a distant benefactor, seized the benefits of their fortune for themselves, and after a brief reign of their Eastern dynasty, they were now weakened. On land, they were pressured by the Almohades, the fanatical rulers of Morocco, while their coast was vulnerable to assaults from the Greeks and Franks, who, before the end of the eleventh century, had extorted a ransom of two hundred thousand gold pieces. Through Roger's initial campaigns, the island or rock of Malta, later honored by a military and religious colony, was permanently added to the crown of Sicily. Tripoli, a strong seaport city, was next on his target list; the slaughter of the men and the capture of the women could be justified by the common practices of the Muslims themselves. The capital of the Zeirides was called Africa after the region, and Mahadia after its Arab founder: it was sturdily built on a narrow landmass, but the poor harbor was not compensated by the fertility of the nearby plains. Mahadia was besieged by George, the Sicilian adm

Since the decease of Robert Guiscard, the Normans had relinquished, above sixty years, their hostile designs against the empire of the East. The policy of Roger solicited a public and private union with the Greek princes, whose alliance would dignify his regal character: he demanded in marriage a daughter of the Comnenian family, and the first steps of the treaty seemed to promise a favorable event. But the contemptuous treatment of his ambassadors exasperated the vanity of the new monarch; and the insolence of the Byzantine court was expiated, according to the laws of nations, by the sufferings of a guiltless people. With the fleet of seventy galleys, George, the admiral of Sicily, appeared before Corfu; and both the island and city were delivered into his hands by the disaffected inhabitants, who had yet to learn that a siege is still more calamitous than a tribute. In this invasion, of some moment in the annals of commerce, the Normans spread themselves by sea, and over the provinces of Greece; and the venerable age of Athens, Thebes, and Corinth, was violated by rapine and cruelty. Of the wrongs of Athens, no memorial remains. The ancient walls, which encompassed, without guarding, the opulence of Thebes, were scaled by the Latin Christians; but their sole use of the gospel was to sanctify an oath, that the lawful owners had not secreted any relic of their inheritance or industry. On the approach of the Normans, the lower town of Corinth was evacuated; the Greeks retired to the citadel, which was seated on a lofty eminence, abundantly watered by the classic fountain of Pirene; an impregnable fortress, if the want of courage could be balanced by any advantages of art or nature. As soon as the besiegers had surmounted the labor (their sole labor) of climbing the hill, their general, from the commanding eminence, admired his own victory, and testified his gratitude to Heaven, by tearing from the altar the precious image of Theodore, the tutelary saint. The silk weavers of both sexes, whom George transported to Sicily, composed the most valuable part of the spoil; and in comparing the skilful industry of the mechanic with the sloth and cowardice of the soldier, he was heard to exclaim that the distaff and loom were the only weapons which the Greeks were capable of using. The progress of this naval armament was marked by two conspicuous events, the rescue of the king of France, and the insult of the Byzantine capital. In his return by sea from an unfortunate crusade, Louis the Seventh was intercepted by the Greeks, who basely violated the laws of honor and religion. The fortunate encounter of the Norman fleet delivered the royal captive; and after a free and honorable entertainment in the court of Sicily, Louis continued his journey to Rome and Paris. In the absence of the emperor, Constantinople and the Hellespont were left without defence and without the suspicion of danger. The clergy and people (for the soldiers had followed the standard of Manuel) were astonished and dismayed at the hostile appearance of a line of galleys, which boldly cast anchor in the front of the Imperial city. The forces of the Sicilian admiral were inadequate to the siege or assault of an immense and populous metropolis; but George enjoyed the glory of humbling the Greek arrogance, and of marking the path of conquest to the navies of the West. He landed some soldiers to rifle the fruits of the royal gardens, and pointed with silver, or most probably with fire, the arrows which he discharged against the palace of the Cæsars. This playful outrage of the pirates of Sicily, who had surprised an unguarded moment, Manuel affected to despise, while his martial spirit, and the forces of the empire, were awakened to revenge. The Archipelago and Ionian Sea were covered with his squadrons and those of Venice; but I know not by what favorable allowance of transports, victuallers, and pinnaces, our reason, or even our fancy, can be reconciled to the stupendous account of fifteen hundred vessels, which is proposed by a Byzantine historian. These operations were directed with prudence and energy: in his homeward voyage George lost nineteen of his galleys, which were separated and taken: after an obstinate defence, Corfu implored the clemency of her lawful sovereign; nor could a ship, a soldier, of the Norman prince, be found, unless as a captive, within the limits of the Eastern empire. The prosperity and the health of Roger were already in a declining state: while he listened in his palace of Palermo to the messengers of victory or defeat, the invincible Manuel, the foremost in every assault, was celebrated by the Greeks and Latins as the Alexander or the Hercules of the age.

Since the death of Robert Guiscard, the Normans had given up their hostile plans against the Eastern Empire for over sixty years. Roger's strategy aimed for a public and private alliance with the Greek princes, enhancing his royal stature. He sought to marry a daughter from the Comnenian family, and the initial stages of the treaty looked promising. However, the disrespect shown to his ambassadors fueled the pride of the new monarch; the arrogance of the Byzantine court was paid for by the suffering of an innocent people. George, the admiral of Sicily, arrived before Corfu with a fleet of seventy galleys, and the discontented locals handed over both the island and city to him, unaware that a siege is often more disastrous than paying tribute. This invasion, significant in the history of trade, allowed the Normans to spread by sea across the provinces of Greece, and the ancient cities of Athens, Thebes, and Corinth were subjected to plunder and brutality. There are no records left of Athens' wrongs. The ancient walls of Thebes, which had protected its wealth, were scaled by the Latin Christians, but they only used the gospel to justify an oath that the rightful owners hadn't hidden any remnants of their heritage or work. As the Normans approached, the lower town of Corinth was evacuated; the Greeks retreated to the citadel, which was perched on a high hill, well-supplied by the legendary Pirene spring; it was an impregnable fortress, if lack of courage could be compensated by advantages of skill or nature. Once the besiegers overcame the effort of climbing the hill, their general admired his victory from above and showed his gratitude to Heaven by tearing the precious image of Theodore, the patron saint, from the altar. The silk weavers, both men and women, whom George took to Sicily represented the most valuable part of the loot; contrasting the skilled work of these artisans with the laziness and cowardice of the soldiers, he remarked that the distaff and loom were the only weapons the Greeks knew how to use. The progress of this naval expedition was marked by two notable events: the rescue of the King of France and the insult to the Byzantine capital. Returning by sea from an unsuccessful crusade, Louis the Seventh was intercepted by the Greeks, who shamefully broke the codes of honor and religion. The chance meeting with the Norman fleet freed the royal captive; after being treated honorably at the Sicilian court, Louis continued his journey to Rome and Paris. With the emperor absent, Constantinople and the Hellespont were left defenseless and unsuspecting of danger. The clergy and the people (as the soldiers had followed Manuel's banner) were shocked and terrified by the sight of a line of galleys boldly anchoring in front of the Imperial city. The Sicilian admiral's forces were not sufficient to besiege or attack such a vast and populous city; but George relished the acclaim of bringing down Greek arrogance and showing the way for Western navies to conquer. He landed some troops to loot the royal gardens and used silver-tipped, or more likely fire-tipped, arrows to shoot at the palace of the Cæsars. This playful assault by the Sicilian pirates, who had caught the city at an unprotected moment, was affectedly dismissed by Manuel, even as his warrior spirit and the empire's forces were stirred to seek revenge. The Archipelago and Ionian Sea were swarming with his fleet and that of Venice; but I can't fathom how our reason, or even imagination, can accept the outrageous claim of fifteen hundred vessels made by a Byzantine historian. These operations were conducted with caution and vigor; on his way back, George lost nineteen of his galleys, which were separated and captured. After fierce resistance, Corfu appealed for mercy from her rightful sovereign; and not a single ship or soldier of the Norman prince could be found, except as captives, within the boundaries of the Eastern Empire. Roger's health and prosperity were already on the decline; while he listened in his palace in Palermo to news of victory or defeat, the unstoppable Manuel, leading every charge, was celebrated by both Greeks and Latins as the Alexander or Hercules of his time.





Chapter LVI: The Saracens, The Franks And The Normans.—Part V.

A prince of such a temper could not be satisfied with having repelled the insolence of a Barbarian. It was the right and duty, it might be the interest and glory, of Manuel to restore the ancient majesty of the empire, to recover the provinces of Italy and Sicily, and to chastise this pretended king, the grandson of a Norman vassal. The natives of Calabria were still attached to the Greek language and worship, which had been inexorably proscribed by the Latin clergy: after the loss of her dukes, Apulia was chained as a servile appendage to the crown of Sicily; the founder of the monarchy had ruled by the sword; and his death had abated the fear, without healing the discontent, of his subjects: the feudal government was always pregnant with the seeds of rebellion; and a nephew of Roger himself invited the enemies of his family and nation. The majesty of the purple, and a series of Hungarian and Turkish wars, prevented Manuel from embarking his person in the Italian expedition. To the brave and noble Palæologus, his lieutenant, the Greek monarch intrusted a fleet and army: the siege of Bari was his first exploit; and, in every operation, gold as well as steel was the instrument of victory. Salerno, and some places along the western coast, maintained their fidelity to the Norman king; but he lost in two campaigns the greater part of his continental possessions; and the modest emperor, disdaining all flattery and falsehood, was content with the reduction of three hundred cities or villages of Apulia and Calabria, whose names and titles were inscribed on all the walls of the palace. The prejudices of the Latins were gratified by a genuine or fictitious donation under the seal of the German Cæsars; but the successor of Constantine soon renounced this ignominious pretence, claimed the indefeasible dominion of Italy, and professed his design of chasing the Barbarians beyond the Alps. By the artful speeches, liberal gifts, and unbounded promises, of their Eastern ally, the free cities were encouraged to persevere in their generous struggle against the despotism of Frederic Barbarossa: the walls of Milan were rebuilt by the contributions of Manuel; and he poured, says the historian, a river of gold into the bosom of Ancona, whose attachment to the Greeks was fortified by the jealous enmity of the Venetians. The situation and trade of Ancona rendered it an important garrison in the heart of Italy: it was twice besieged by the arms of Frederic; the imperial forces were twice repulsed by the spirit of freedom; that spirit was animated by the ambassador of Constantinople; and the most intrepid patriots, the most faithful servants, were rewarded by the wealth and honors of the Byzantine court. The pride of Manuel disdained and rejected a Barbarian colleague; his ambition was excited by the hope of stripping the purple from the German usurpers, and of establishing, in the West, as in the East, his lawful title of sole emperor of the Romans. With this view, he solicited the alliance of the people and the bishop of Rome. Several of the nobles embraced the cause of the Greek monarch; the splendid nuptials of his niece with Odo Frangipani secured the support of that powerful family, and his royal standard or image was entertained with due reverence in the ancient metropolis. During the quarrel between Frederic and Alexander the Third, the pope twice received in the Vatican the ambassadors of Constantinople. They flattered his piety by the long-promised union of the two churches, tempted the avarice of his venal court, and exhorted the Roman pontiff to seize the just provocation, the favorable moment, to humble the savage insolence of the Alemanni and to acknowledge the true representative of Constantine and Augustus.

A prince with such a temperament could not be satisfied just repelling the arrogance of a barbarian. It was Manuel's right and duty, and possibly his interest and glory, to restore the ancient dignity of the empire, reclaim the provinces of Italy and Sicily, and punish this so-called king, the grandson of a Norman vassal. The people of Calabria were still loyal to the Greek language and religion, which had been harshly banned by the Latin clergy. After losing her dukes, Apulia was forced to serve as a subordinate to the crown of Sicily; the founder of the monarchy had ruled with an iron fist, and his death had diminished fear without resolving the discontent among his subjects. The feudal system was always prone to rebellion, and a nephew of Roger himself invited enemies of his family and nation. The prestige of the empire, combined with ongoing wars against the Hungarians and Turks, kept Manuel from personally leading an expedition to Italy. Instead, he entrusted his brave and noble lieutenant, Palæologus, with a fleet and army. The siege of Bari was his first task, and in every operation, both gold and steel were key to victory. Salerno and a few other places along the western coast remained loyal to the Norman king; however, he lost most of his continental possessions in two campaigns. The modest emperor, rejecting flattery and falsehoods, was satisfied with the conquest of three hundred cities or villages in Apulia and Calabria, whose names were inscribed on the palace walls. The Latins were pleased by a genuine or forged donation under the seal of the German emperors; but the successor of Constantine soon abandoned this disgraceful claim, asserting his rightful dominion over Italy and declaring his intention to push the barbarians beyond the Alps. Encouraged by the clever speeches, generous gifts, and endless promises of their Eastern ally, the free cities were motivated to continue their noble fight against the tyranny of Frederic Barbarossa. The walls of Milan were rebuilt through Manuel's contributions, and he reportedly sent a river of gold into Ancona, whose loyalty to the Greeks was strengthened by the hostility of the Venetians. Ancona’s strategic location and trade made it a crucial garrison in the heart of Italy: it was besieged twice by Frederic's forces, and both times, the imperial army was pushed back by the spirit of freedom, a spirit invigorated by the ambassador of Constantinople. The most courageous patriots and loyal supporters were rewarded with wealth and honors from the Byzantine court. Manuel's pride spurned a barbarian ally; his ambition was fueled by the hope of stripping the empire from the German usurpers and establishing his rightful claim as the sole emperor of the Romans in both the West and the East. To this end, he sought an alliance with the people and the bishop of Rome. Many nobles supported the Greek monarch; the splendid marriage of his niece to Odo Frangipani secured that powerful family's backing, and his royal standard was honored in the ancient capital. During the dispute between Frederic and Pope Alexander III, the pope received ambassadors from Constantinople in the Vatican on two occasions. They flattered his piety with promises of the long-anticipated union of the two churches, tempted the greed of his corrupt court, and urged the Roman pontiff to seize the opportunity, a favorable moment to subdue the wild arrogance of the Alemanni and to acknowledge the true successor of Constantine and Augustus.

But these Italian conquests, this universal reign, soon escaped from the hand of the Greek emperor. His first demands were eluded by the prudence of Alexander the Third, who paused on this deep and momentous revolution; nor could the pope be seduced by a personal dispute to renounce the perpetual inheritance of the Latin name. After the reunion with Frederic, he spoke a more peremptory language, confirmed the acts of his predecessors, excommunicated the adherents of Manuel, and pronounced the final separation of the churches, or at least the empires, of Constantinople and Rome. The free cities of Lombardy no longer remembered their foreign benefactor, and without preserving the friendship of Ancona, he soon incurred the enmity of Venice. By his own avarice, or the complaints of his subjects, the Greek emperor was provoked to arrest the persons, and confiscate the effects, of the Venetian merchants. This violation of the public faith exasperated a free and commercial people: one hundred galleys were launched and armed in as many days; they swept the coasts of Dalmatia and Greece: but after some mutual wounds, the war was terminated by an agreement, inglorious to the empire, insufficient for the republic; and a complete vengeance of these and of fresh injuries was reserved for the succeeding generation. The lieutenant of Manuel had informed his sovereign that he was strong enough to quell any domestic revolt of Apulia and Calabria; but that his forces were inadequate to resist the impending attack of the king of Sicily. His prophecy was soon verified: the death of Palæologus devolved the command on several chiefs, alike eminent in rank, alike defective in military talents; the Greeks were oppressed by land and sea; and a captive remnant that escaped the swords of the Normans and Saracens, abjured all future hostility against the person or dominions of their conqueror. Yet the king of Sicily esteemed the courage and constancy of Manuel, who had landed a second army on the Italian shore; he respectfully addressed the new Justinian; solicited a peace or truce of thirty years, accepted as a gift the regal title; and acknowledged himself the military vassal of the Roman empire. The Byzantine Cæsars acquiesced in this shadow of dominion, without expecting, perhaps without desiring, the service of a Norman army; and the truce of thirty years was not disturbed by any hostilities between Sicily and Constantinople. About the end of that period, the throne of Manuel was usurped by an inhuman tyrant, who had deserved the abhorrence of his country and mankind: the sword of William the Second, the grandson of Roger, was drawn by a fugitive of the Comnenian race; and the subjects of Andronicus might salute the strangers as friends, since they detested their sovereign as the worst of enemies. The Latin historians expatiate on the rapid progress of the four counts who invaded Romania with a fleet and army, and reduced many castles and cities to the obedience of the king of Sicily. The Greeks accuse and magnify the wanton and sacrilegious cruelties that were perpetrated in the sack of Thessalonica, the second city of the empire. The former deplore the fate of those invincible but unsuspecting warriors who were destroyed by the arts of a vanquished foe. The latter applaud, in songs of triumph, the repeated victories of their countrymen on the Sea of Marmora or Propontis, on the banks of the Strymon, and under the walls of Durazzo. A revolution which punished the crimes of Andronicus, had united against the Franks the zeal and courage of the successful insurgents: ten thousand were slain in battle, and Isaac Angelus, the new emperor, might indulge his vanity or vengeance in the treatment of four thousand captives. Such was the event of the last contest between the Greeks and Normans: before the expiration of twenty years, the rival nations were lost or degraded in foreign servitude; and the successors of Constantine did not long survive to insult the fall of the Sicilian monarchy.

But these Italian conquests and this universal reign soon slipped from the grip of the Greek emperor. His initial demands were avoided by the caution of Alexander the Third, who hesitated during this significant upheaval; nor could the pope be convinced by a personal feud to give up the long-standing legacy of the Latin name. After reuniting with Frederic, he spoke more decisively, confirmed the actions of his predecessors, excommunicated the supporters of Manuel, and declared the final separation of the churches, or at least the empires, of Constantinople and Rome. The free cities of Lombardy no longer remembered their foreign benefactor, and without maintaining the friendship of Ancona, he soon gained the hostility of Venice. Due to his own greed or the complaints of his subjects, the Greek emperor was provoked to detain the Venetian merchants and seize their goods. This breach of trust angered a free and trade-focused people: one hundred galleys were launched and equipped in as many days; they swept the coasts of Dalmatia and Greece. However, after some mutual injuries, the war ended with a deal that was shameful for the empire and inadequate for the republic, leaving complete vengeance for these and future injuries to the next generation. The lieutenant of Manuel had informed his ruler that he was strong enough to crush any local rebellion in Apulia and Calabria, but that his forces were not enough to counter the looming attack from the king of Sicily. His prediction soon came true: the death of Palæologus transferred control to several leaders, equally notable in status but equally lacking in military skills; the Greeks were oppressed on land and sea, and a captive remnant that survived the swords of the Normans and Saracens renounced any future hostility against their conqueror. Yet the king of Sicily respected the bravery and perseverance of Manuel, who had landed a second army on the Italian coast; he addressed the new Justinian with respect, sought a peace or truce lasting thirty years, accepted the royal title as a gift, and acknowledged himself as a military vassal of the Roman Empire. The Byzantine Cæsars accepted this token of sovereignty, possibly without expecting or even desiring the service of a Norman army; and the thirty-year truce was not marred by any conflicts between Sicily and Constantinople. Toward the end of that period, Manuel’s throne was taken over by a cruel tyrant, who earned the hatred of his own country and humankind: the sword of William the Second, the grandson of Roger, was wielded by a fugitive of the Comnenian lineage; and the subjects of Andronicus could greet the strangers as friends since they loathed their ruler as their worst enemy. Latin historians elaborate on the swift advance of the four counts who invaded Romania with a fleet and army, bringing many castles and cities under the control of the king of Sicily. The Greeks accuse and amplify the wanton and sacrilegious atrocities committed during the sack of Thessalonica, the second city of the empire. The former lament the fate of those unbeatable yet unsuspecting warriors who were destroyed by the tactics of a defeated enemy. The latter cheer in triumphant songs the repeated victories of their countrymen on the Sea of Marmora or Propontis, along the banks of the Strymon, and beneath the walls of Durazzo. A revolution that punished the crimes of Andronicus united the zeal and courage of the successful rebels against the Franks: ten thousand were slain in battle, and Isaac Angelus, the new emperor, could indulge his vanity or vengeance in the treatment of four thousand captives. Such was the outcome of the last conflict between the Greeks and Normans: within twenty years, the rival nations were lost or degraded into foreign servitude; and the successors of Constantine did not survive long enough to celebrate the fall of the Sicilian monarchy.

The sceptre of Roger successively devolved to his son and grandson: they might be confounded under the name of William: they are strongly discriminated by the epithets of the bad and the good; but these epithets, which appear to describe the perfection of vice and virtue, cannot strictly be applied to either of the Norman princes. When he was roused to arms by danger and shame, the first William did not degenerate from the valor of his race; but his temper was slothful; his manners were dissolute; his passions headstrong and mischievous; and the monarch is responsible, not only for his personal vices, but for those of Majo, the great admiral, who abused the confidence, and conspired against the life, of his benefactor. From the Arabian conquest, Sicily had imbibed a deep tincture of Oriental manners; the despotism, the pomp, and even the harem, of a sultan; and a Christian people was oppressed and insulted by the ascendant of the eunuchs, who openly professed, or secretly cherished, the religion of Mahomet. An eloquent historian of the times has delineated the misfortunes of his country: the ambition and fall of the ungrateful Majo; the revolt and punishment of his assassins; the imprisonment and deliverance of the king himself; the private feuds that arose from the public confusion; and the various forms of calamity and discord which afflicted Palermo, the island, and the continent, during the reign of William the First, and the minority of his son. The youth, innocence, and beauty of William the Second, endeared him to the nation: the factions were reconciled; the laws were revived; and from the manhood to the premature death of that amiable prince, Sicily enjoyed a short season of peace, justice, and happiness, whose value was enhanced by the remembrance of the past and the dread of futurity. The legitimate male posterity of Tancred of Hauteville was extinct in the person of the second William; but his aunt, the daughter of Roger, had married the most powerful prince of the age; and Henry the Sixth, the son of Frederic Barbarossa, descended from the Alps to claim the Imperial crown and the inheritance of his wife. Against the unanimous wish of a free people, this inheritance could only be acquired by arms; and I am pleased to transcribe the style and sense of the historian Falcandus, who writes at the moment, and on the spot, with the feelings of a patriot, and the prophetic eye of a statesman. "Constantia, the daughter of Sicily, nursed from her cradle in the pleasures and plenty, and educated in the arts and manners, of this fortunate isle, departed long since to enrich the Barbarians with our treasures, and now returns, with her savage allies, to contaminate the beauties of her venerable parent. Already I behold the swarms of angry Barbarians: our opulent cities, the places flourishing in a long peace, are shaken with fear, desolated by slaughter, consumed by rapine, and polluted by intemperance and lust. I see the massacre or captivity of our citizens, the rapes of our virgins and matrons. In this extremity (he interrogates a friend) how must the Sicilians act? By the unanimous election of a king of valor and experience, Sicily and Calabria might yet be preserved; for in the levity of the Apulians, ever eager for new revolutions, I can repose neither confidence nor hope. Should Calabria be lost, the lofty towers, the numerous youth, and the naval strength, of Messina, might guard the passage against a foreign invader. If the savage Germans coalesce with the pirates of Messina; if they destroy with fire the fruitful region, so often wasted by the fires of Mount Ætna, what resource will be left for the interior parts of the island, these noble cities which should never be violated by the hostile footsteps of a Barbarian? Catana has again been overwhelmed by an earthquake: the ancient virtue of Syracuse expires in poverty and solitude; but Palermo is still crowned with a diadem, and her triple walls enclose the active multitudes of Christians and Saracens. If the two nations, under one king, can unite for their common safety, they may rush on the Barbarians with invincible arms. But if the Saracens, fatigued by a repetition of injuries, should now retire and rebel; if they should occupy the castles of the mountains and sea-coast, the unfortunate Christians, exposed to a double attack, and placed as it were between the hammer and the anvil, must resign themselves to hopeless and inevitable servitude." We must not forget, that a priest here prefers his country to his religion; and that the Moslems, whose alliance he seeks, were still numerous and powerful in the state of Sicily.

The scepter of Roger passed down to his son and grandson: they can be confused under the name William; they are clearly distinguished by the labels of bad and good; but these labels, which seem to define the extremes of vice and virtue, can’t strictly be applied to either of the Norman princes. When danger and shame compelled him to arms, the first William did not stray from the bravery of his lineage; however, his nature was lazy; his behavior was immoral; his passions were reckless and harmful; and the king is accountable, not just for his own vices, but for those of Majo, the great admiral, who misused the trust placed in him and plotted against the life of his benefactor. Since the Arabian conquest, Sicily had taken on a strong influence of Eastern customs; the tyranny, the grandeur, and even the harem of a sultan; and a Christian population was oppressed and insulted by the ascent of the eunuchs, who openly claimed, or secretly nurtured, the faith of Mahomet. An articulate historian of the era has outlined the misfortunes of his country: the ambition and downfall of the ungrateful Majo; the uprising and punishment of his assassins; the imprisonment and rescue of the king himself; the private conflicts that arose from the public chaos; and the various forms of disaster and discord that plagued Palermo, the island, and the mainland during the reign of William the First and the minority of his son. The youth, innocence, and charm of William the Second won him the affection of the nation: the factions were reconciled; the laws were upheld; and from the maturation to the untimely death of that beloved prince, Sicily enjoyed a brief period of peace, justice, and happiness, whose worth was heightened by the memory of past troubles and the fear of what was to come. The legitimate male descendants of Tancred of Hauteville ended with the second William; but his aunt, the daughter of Roger, had married the most powerful prince of the time; and Henry the Sixth, the son of Frederic Barbarossa, came down from the Alps to claim the Imperial crown and his wife's inheritance. Against the strong wishes of a free people, this inheritance could only be claimed by force; and I’m pleased to record the words and sentiments of the historian Falcandus, who was writing at the time and on the ground, feeling the perspective of a patriot and the foresight of a statesman. "Constantia, the daughter of Sicily, raised from her infancy in abundance and pleasures, and educated in the arts and customs of this fortunate island, left long ago to enrich the Barbarians with our resources and now returns, with her savage allies, to taint the beauties of her venerable homeland. Already I see the swarms of furious Barbarians: our wealthy cities, places that flourished in long-standing peace, are shaken with fear, devastated by slaughter, ravaged by plunder, and corrupted by excess and lust. I witness the massacre or capture of our citizens, the assaults on our virgins and matrons. In this dire situation (he questions a friend), how should the Sicilians respond? By the unanimous choice of a king of valor and experience, Sicily and Calabria could still be saved; for in the fickleness of the Apulians, always eager for new revolutions, I can place neither trust nor hope. If Calabria is lost, the tall towers, the many youths, and the naval strength of Messina could defend the passage against a foreign invader. If the savage Germans join forces with the pirates of Messina; if they burn down the fertile lands, already so often ravaged by the eruptions of Mount Ætna, what hope will remain for the interior regions of the island, these noble cities that should never be violated by the invading feet of a Barbarian? Catana has once again been struck by an earthquake: the ancient greatness of Syracuse is fading in poverty and isolation; but Palermo still shines with a crown, and her triple walls shelter the bustling crowds of Christians and Saracens. If the two nations, under one king, can come together for their shared safety, they might confront the Barbarians with unbeatable force. But if the Saracens, weary from constant injuries, decide to retreat and rebel; if they take over the mountain and coastal castles, the unfortunate Christians, caught as it were between the hammer and the anvil, must accept hopeless and unavoidable servitude." We must not overlook that a priest here prioritizes his country over his religion; and that the Muslims, whose partnership he seeks, remained numerous and influential in the state of Sicily.

The hopes, or at least the wishes, of Falcandus were at first gratified by the free and unanimous election of Tancred, the grandson of the first king, whose birth was illegitimate, but whose civil and military virtues shone without a blemish. During four years, the term of his life and reign, he stood in arms on the farthest verge of the Apulian frontier, against the powers of Germany; and the restitution of a royal captive, of Constantia herself, without injury or ransom, may appear to surpass the most liberal measure of policy or reason. After his decease, the kingdom of his widow and infant son fell without a struggle; and Henry pursued his victorious march from Capua to Palermo. The political balance of Italy was destroyed by his success; and if the pope and the free cities had consulted their obvious and real interest, they would have combined the powers of earth and heaven to prevent the dangerous union of the German empire with the kingdom of Sicily. But the subtle policy, for which the Vatican has so often been praised or arraigned, was on this occasion blind and inactive; and if it were true that Celestine the Third had kicked away the Imperial crown from the head of the prostrate Henry, such an act of impotent pride could serve only to cancel an obligation and provoke an enemy. The Genoese, who enjoyed a beneficial trade and establishment in Sicily, listened to the promise of his boundless gratitude and speedy departure: their fleet commanded the straits of Messina, and opened the harbor of Palermo; and the first act of his government was to abolish the privileges, and to seize the property, of these imprudent allies. The last hope of Falcandus was defeated by the discord of the Christians and Mahometans: they fought in the capital; several thousands of the latter were slain; but their surviving brethren fortified the mountains, and disturbed above thirty years the peace of the island. By the policy of Frederic the Second, sixty thousand Saracens were transplanted to Nocera in Apulia. In their wars against the Roman church, the emperor and his son Mainfroy were strengthened and disgraced by the service of the enemies of Christ; and this national colony maintained their religion and manners in the heart of Italy, till they were extirpated, at the end of the thirteenth century, by the zeal and revenge of the house of Anjou. All the calamities which the prophetic orator had deplored were surpassed by the cruelty and avarice of the German conqueror. He violated the royal sepulchres, and explored the secret treasures of the palace, Palermo, and the whole kingdom: the pearls and jewels, however precious, might be easily removed; but one hundred and sixty horses were laden with the gold and silver of Sicily. The young king, his mother and sisters, and the nobles of both sexes, were separately confined in the fortresses of the Alps; and, on the slightest rumor of rebellion, the captives were deprived of life, of their eyes, or of the hope of posterity. Constantia herself was touched with sympathy for the miseries of her country; and the heiress of the Norman line might struggle to check her despotic husband, and to save the patrimony of her new-born son, of an emperor so famous in the next age under the name of Frederic the Second. Ten years after this revolution, the French monarchs annexed to their crown the duchy of Normandy: the sceptre of her ancient dukes had been transmitted, by a granddaughter of William the Conqueror, to the house of Plantagenet; and the adventurous Normans, who had raised so many trophies in France, England, and Ireland, in Apulia, Sicily, and the East, were lost, either in victory or servitude, among the vanquished nations.

The hopes, or at least the wishes, of Falcandus were initially fulfilled by the open and unanimous election of Tancred, the grandson of the first king. Although his birth was illegitimate, his civil and military virtues were impeccable. During his four-year life and reign, he stood armed on the farthest edge of the Apulian frontier against the powers of Germany. The return of a royal captive, Constantia herself, without harm or ransom, might seem to exceed the most generous standards of policy or reason. After his death, his widow and infant son lost the kingdom without a struggle, and Henry continued his victorious journey from Capua to Palermo. His success wrecked the political balance of Italy. If the pope and the free cities had prioritized their clear and real interests, they would have joined forces with both earthly and heavenly powers to prevent the dangerous merging of the German empire with the kingdom of Sicily. But the cautious policy that the Vatican has so often been praised or criticized for was, in this case, blind and inactive. Even if it were true that Celestine the Third had pushed the Imperial crown away from the fallen Henry’s head, such an act of impotent pride could only serve to void an obligation and instigate an enemy. The Genoese, who benefited from trade and established themselves in Sicily, listened to his promises of limitless gratitude and swift departure: their fleet controlled the straits of Messina and opened the harbor of Palermo. The first act of his government was to cancel the privileges and seize the property of these reckless allies. The last hope of Falcandus was crushed by the conflict between Christians and Muslims: they fought in the capital, with several thousand Muslims killed; however, their surviving brethren fortified the mountains and disrupted the island’s peace for over thirty years. Under Frederic the Second’s policy, sixty thousand Saracens were moved to Nocera in Apulia. In their battles against the Roman church, the emperor and his son Manfred were both bolstered and shamed by the service of the enemies of Christ; this national colony maintained their religion and customs in the heart of Italy until they were exterminated at the end of the thirteenth century by the zeal and revenge of the house of Anjou. All the disasters that the prophetic orator lamented were eclipsed by the cruelty and greed of the German conqueror. He desecrated royal tombs and rummaged through the hidden treasures of Palermo and the whole kingdom: while pearls and gems, however valuable, could be easily taken away; one hundred sixty horses were loaded with the gold and silver of Sicily. The young king, his mother and sisters, and the nobles of both genders were each imprisoned in the Alps' fortresses, and at the slightest hint of rebellion, the captives were deprived of their lives, their eyes, or their hopes for future generations. Constantia herself empathized with the suffering of her country; the heiress of the Norman lineage might strive to restrain her tyrannical husband and preserve the heritage of her newborn son, who would become famous in the next age as Frederic the Second. Ten years after this upheaval, the French monarchs added the duchy of Normandy to their crown: the scepter of her ancient dukes had been passed down, through a granddaughter of William the Conqueror, to the house of Plantagenet. The adventurous Normans, who had raised numerous trophies in France, England, and Ireland, as well as in Apulia, Sicily, and the East, were now lost, either in victory or servitude, among the conquered nations.





Chapter LVII: The Turks.—Part I.

     The Turks Of The House Of Seljuk.—Their Revolt Against
     Mahmud Conqueror Of Hindostan.—Togrul Subdues Persia, And
     Protects The Caliphs.—Defeat And Captivity Of The Emperor
     Romanus Diogenes By Alp Arslan.—Power And Magnificence Of
     Malek Shah.—Conquest Of Asia Minor And Syria.—State And
     Oppression Of Jerusalem.—Pilgrimages To The Holy Sepulchre.
     The Turks of the House of Seljuk.—Their Revolt Against Mahmud, Conqueror of Hindostan.—Togrul Conquers Persia and Protects the Caliphs.—Defeat and Captivity of Emperor Romanus Diogenes by Alp Arslan.—Power and Grandeur of Malek Shah.—Conquest of Asia Minor and Syria.—Situation and Oppression of Jerusalem.—Pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre.

From the Isle of Sicily, the reader must transport himself beyond the Caspian Sea, to the original seat of the Turks or Turkmans, against whom the first crusade was principally directed. Their Scythian empire of the sixth century was long since dissolved; but the name was still famous among the Greeks and Orientals; and the fragments of the nation, each a powerful and independent people, were scattered over the desert from China to the Oxus and the Danube: the colony of Hungarians was admitted into the republic of Europe, and the thrones of Asia were occupied by slaves and soldiers of Turkish extraction. While Apulia and Sicily were subdued by the Norman lance, a swarm of these northern shepherds overspread the kingdoms of Persia; their princes of the race of Seljuk erected a splendid and solid empire from Samarcand to the confines of Greece and Egypt; and the Turks have maintained their dominion in Asia Minor, till the victorious crescent has been planted on the dome of St. Sophia.

From the Isle of Sicily, the reader must journey beyond the Caspian Sea to the original homeland of the Turks or Turkmans, who were the main targets of the first crusade. Their Scythian empire from the sixth century had long since fallen apart, but the name was still well-known among the Greeks and Orientals. The remnants of this nation, each a powerful and independent group, were scattered across the desert from China to the Oxus River and the Danube: the colony of Hungarians became part of the European republic, and the thrones of Asia were held by Turkish slaves and soldiers. While the Normans conquered Apulia and Sicily, a horde of these northern shepherds spread across the kingdoms of Persia; their Seljuk princes established a magnificent and robust empire stretching from Samarkand to the borders of Greece and Egypt. The Turks have maintained their rule in Asia Minor until the victorious crescent was planted on the dome of St. Sophia.

One of the greatest of the Turkish princes was Mahmood or Mahmud, the Gaznevide, who reigned in the eastern provinces of Persia, one thousand years after the birth of Christ. His father Sebectagi was the slave of the slave of the slave of the commander of the faithful. But in this descent of servitude, the first degree was merely titular, since it was filled by the sovereign of Transoxiana and Chorasan, who still paid a nominal allegiance to the caliph of Bagdad. The second rank was that of a minister of state, a lieutenant of the Samanides, who broke, by his revolt, the bonds of political slavery. But the third step was a state of real and domestic servitude in the family of that rebel; from which Sebectagi, by his courage and dexterity, ascended to the supreme command of the city and provinces of Gazna, as the son-in-law and successor of his grateful master. The falling dynasty of the Samanides was at first protected, and at last overthrown, by their servants; and, in the public disorders, the fortune of Mahmud continually increased. From him the title of Sultan was first invented; and his kingdom was enlarged from Transoxiana to the neighborhood of Ispahan, from the shores of the Caspian to the mouth of the Indus. But the principal source of his fame and riches was the holy war which he waged against the Gentoos of Hindostan. In this foreign narrative I may not consume a page; and a volume would scarcely suffice to recapitulate the battles and sieges of his twelve expeditions. Never was the Mussulman hero dismayed by the inclemency of the seasons, the height of the mountains, the breadth of the rivers, the barrenness of the desert, the multitudes of the enemy, or the formidable array of their elephants of war. The sultan of Gazna surpassed the limits of the conquests of Alexander: after a march of three months, over the hills of Cashmir and Thibet, he reached the famous city of Kinnoge, on the Upper Ganges; and, in a naval combat on one of the branches of the Indus, he fought and vanquished four thousand boats of the natives. Delhi, Lahor, and Multan, were compelled to open their gates: the fertile kingdom of Guzarat attracted his ambition and tempted his stay; and his avarice indulged the fruitless project of discovering the golden and aromatic isles of the Southern Ocean. On the payment of a tribute, the rajahs preserved their dominions; the people, their lives and fortunes; but to the religion of Hindostan the zealous Mussulman was cruel and inexorable: many hundred temples, or pagodas, were levelled with the ground; many thousand idols were demolished; and the servants of the prophet were stimulated and rewarded by the precious materials of which they were composed. The pagoda of Sumnat was situate on the promontory of Guzarat, in the neighborhood of Diu, one of the last remaining possessions of the Portuguese. It was endowed with the revenue of two thousand villages; two thousand Brahmins were consecrated to the service of the Deity, whom they washed each morning and evening in water from the distant Ganges: the subordinate ministers consisted of three hundred musicians, three hundred barbers, and five hundred dancing girls, conspicuous for their birth or beauty. Three sides of the temple were protected by the ocean, the narrow isthmus was fortified by a natural or artificial precipice; and the city and adjacent country were peopled by a nation of fanatics. They confessed the sins and the punishment of Kinnoge and Delhi; but if the impious stranger should presume to approach their holy precincts, he would surely be overwhelmed by a blast of the divine vengeance. By this challenge, the faith of Mahmud was animated to a personal trial of the strength of this Indian deity. Fifty thousand of his worshippers were pierced by the spear of the Moslems; the walls were scaled; the sanctuary was profaned; and the conqueror aimed a blow of his iron mace at the head of the idol. The trembling Brahmins are said to have offered ten millions sterling for his ransom; and it was urged by the wisest counsellors, that the destruction of a stone image would not change the hearts of the Gentoos; and that such a sum might be dedicated to the relief of the true believers. "Your reasons," replied the sultan, "are specious and strong; but never in the eyes of posterity shall Mahmud appear as a merchant of idols." He repeated his blows, and a treasure of pearls and rubies, concealed in the belly of the statue, explained in some degree the devout prodigality of the Brahmins. The fragments of the idol were distributed to Gazna, Mecca, and Medina. Bagdad listened to the edifying tale; and Mahmud was saluted by the caliph with the title of guardian of the fortune and faith of Mahomet.

One of the greatest Turkish princes was Mahmood or Mahmud, the Gaznevide, who ruled in the eastern provinces of Persia, a thousand years after Christ was born. His father, Sebectagi, was a slave of the slave of the slave of the commander of the faithful. However, in this lineage of servitude, the first level was just a title, since it was held by the ruler of Transoxiana and Chorasan, who still paid nominal allegiance to the caliph of Bagdad. The second rank was that of a state minister, a lieutenant of the Samanids, who broke the bonds of political slavery with his revolt. But the third level was true and domestic servitude in the family of that rebel; from which Sebectagi, through his bravery and skill, rose to the supreme command of the city and provinces of Gazna, as the son-in-law and successor of his grateful master. The declining dynasty of the Samanids was initially protected, and ultimately overthrown, by their servants; and amidst public unrest, Mahmud's fortunes grew continually. He was the first to be given the title of Sultan; his kingdom expanded from Transoxiana to near Ispahan, and from the shores of the Caspian to the mouth of the Indus. However, the main source of his fame and wealth was the holy war he waged against the Gentoos of Hindostan. I can’t take up a whole page with this foreign tale; even a whole book wouldn't be enough to recap the battles and sieges of his twelve campaigns. Mahmud, the Muslim hero, was never discouraged by harsh weather, high mountains, wide rivers, barren deserts, large enemy forces, or the fearsome lineup of their war elephants. The sultan of Gazna surpassed Alexander’s conquests: after a three-month march over the hills of Kashmir and Tibet, he reached the famous city of Kinnoge, on the Upper Ganges; in a naval battle on one of the branches of the Indus, he fought and defeated four thousand native boats. Delhi, Lahor, and Multan had to open their gates: the fertile kingdom of Guzarat caught his interest and tempted him to stay, while his greed indulged the futile plan of discovering the golden and aromatic islands of the Southern Ocean. With the payment of tribute, the rajahs kept their domains; the people, their lives and properties; but for the religion of Hindostan, the zealous Muslim was ruthless and unforgiving: many hundreds of temples, or pagodas, were brought down; many thousands of idols were destroyed; and the followers of the prophet were motivated and rewarded with the valuable materials that made up those idols. The pagoda of Sumnat was located on the Guzarat promontory, near Diu, one of the last Portuguese possessions. It was funded by the income from two thousand villages; two thousand Brahmins were dedicated to the service of the Deity, whom they would wash each morning and evening with water from the distant Ganges: the subordinate ministers included three hundred musicians, three hundred barbers, and five hundred dancing girls, known for their lineage or beauty. Three sides of the temple were surrounded by the ocean, and the narrow isthmus was fortified by a natural or man-made cliff; and the city and surrounding areas were inhabited by a nation of fanatics. They acknowledged the sins and punishments of Kinnoge and Delhi; but if the impious outsider dared to approach their holy grounds, he would surely be struck down by divine retribution. By this challenge, Mahmud's faith was fueled for a personal test of the strength of this Indian deity. Fifty thousand of his worshippers fell to the spear of the Muslims; the walls were scaled; the sanctuary was desecrated; and the conqueror aimed a blow with his iron mace at the head of the idol. The terrified Brahmins are said to have offered ten million pounds for his ransom; and it was argued by the wisest advisors that the destruction of a stone image wouldn't change the hearts of the Gentoos; and that such a sum could be used to aid the true believers. "Your arguments," replied the sultan, "are convincing and strong; but never in the eyes of history shall Mahmud be seen as a merchant of idols." He continued to strike, and a treasure of pearls and rubies hidden in the idol’s belly partially explained the Brahmins' devout extravagance. The remnants of the idol were sent to Gazna, Mecca, and Medina. Bagdad heard the inspiring story; and Mahmud was honored by the caliph with the title of guardian of the fortune and faith of Mahomet.

From the paths of blood (and such is the history of nations) I cannot refuse to turn aside to gather some flowers of science or virtue. The name of Mahmud the Gaznevide is still venerable in the East: his subjects enjoyed the blessings of prosperity and peace; his vices were concealed by the veil of religion; and two familiar examples will testify his justice and magnanimity. I. As he sat in the Divan, an unhappy subject bowed before the throne to accuse the insolence of a Turkish soldier who had driven him from his house and bed. "Suspend your clamors," said Mahmud; "inform me of his next visit, and ourself in person will judge and punish the offender." The sultan followed his guide, invested the house with his guards, and extinguishing the torches, pronounced the death of the criminal, who had been seized in the act of rapine and adultery. After the execution of his sentence, the lights were rekindled, Mahmud fell prostrate in prayer, and rising from the ground, demanded some homely fare, which he devoured with the voraciousness of hunger. The poor man, whose injury he had avenged, was unable to suppress his astonishment and curiosity; and the courteous monarch condescended to explain the motives of this singular behavior. "I had reason to suspect that none, except one of my sons, could dare to perpetrate such an outrage; and I extinguished the lights, that my justice might be blind and inexorable. My prayer was a thanksgiving on the discovery of the offender; and so painful was my anxiety, that I had passed three days without food since the first moment of your complaint." II. The sultan of Gazna had declared war against the dynasty of the Bowides, the sovereigns of the western Persia: he was disarmed by an epistle of the sultana mother, and delayed his invasion till the manhood of her son. "During the life of my husband," said the artful regent, "I was ever apprehensive of your ambition: he was a prince and a soldier worthy of your arms. He is now no more; his sceptre has passed to a woman and a child, and you dare not attack their infancy and weakness. How inglorious would be your conquest, how shameful your defeat! and yet the event of war is in the hand of the Almighty." Avarice was the only defect that tarnished the illustrious character of Mahmud; and never has that passion been more richly satiated. The Orientals exceed the measure of credibility in the account of millions of gold and silver, such as the avidity of man has never accumulated; in the magnitude of pearls, diamonds, and rubies, such as have never been produced by the workmanship of nature. Yet the soil of Hindostan is impregnated with precious minerals: her trade, in every age, has attracted the gold and silver of the world; and her virgin spoils were rifled by the first of the Mahometan conquerors. His behavior, in the last days of his life, evinces the vanity of these possessions, so laboriously won, so dangerously held, and so inevitably lost. He surveyed the vast and various chambers of the treasury of Gazna, burst into tears, and again closed the doors, without bestowing any portion of the wealth which he could no longer hope to preserve. The following day he reviewed the state of his military force; one hundred thousand foot, fifty-five thousand horse, and thirteen hundred elephants of battle. He again wept the instability of human greatness; and his grief was imbittered by the hostile progress of the Turkmans, whom he had introduced into the heart of his Persian kingdom.

From the paths of blood (and such is the history of nations), I cannot ignore the chance to gather some knowledge or virtues. The name of Mahmud the Gaznevide is still respected in the East: his subjects enjoyed the benefits of prosperity and peace; his flaws were hidden behind the guise of religion; and two well-known examples will demonstrate his fairness and generosity. I. As he sat in the Divan, a sad subject knelt before the throne to accuse a Turkish soldier who had driven him from his home and bed. "Stop your complaints," said Mahmud; "tell me when he will come again, and I will personally judge and punish him." The sultan followed the man’s guidance, surrounded the house with his guards, and turned off the torches to pronounce the death of the criminal, who was caught in the act of robbery and adultery. After carrying out his sentence, the lights were turned back on; Mahmud fell down in prayer and, getting up from the ground, asked for some simple food, which he devoured with great hunger. The poor man, whose wrongs he had avenged, couldn't hide his astonishment and curiosity; and the gracious monarch took the time to explain his unusual behavior. "I suspected that only one of my sons would dare to commit such a crime; and I turned off the lights so that my justice would be blind and relentless. My prayer was a thank you for discovering the offender; and I was so anxious that I hadn’t eaten for three days since you first brought your complaint." II. The sultan of Gazna had declared war on the Bowides dynasty, the rulers of western Persia: he was dissuaded by a letter from the sultan's mother, postponing his invasion until her son reached adulthood. "While my husband was alive," said the cunning regent, "I always feared your ambition: he was a prince and a soldier worthy of your might. He is gone now; his scepter has passed to a woman and a child, and you dare not attack their youth and vulnerability. How dishonorable would your victory be, how shameful your defeat! And yet the outcome of war is in the hands of the Almighty." Greed was the only flaw that marred Mahmud's illustrious character; and never has that desire been more satisfyingly fulfilled. The Easterners stretch credibility with their tales of millions in gold and silver that human greed has never amassed; in the size of pearls, diamonds, and rubies that nature has never produced. Yet the land of Hindostan is rich in precious minerals: its trade has drawn the world's gold and silver through the ages; and its untouched treasures were plundered by the first of the Muslim conquerors. His actions in the last days of his life showcase the futility of these hard-won riches, so precariously held, and so inevitably lost. He looked over the vast and diverse rooms of the treasury of Gazna, broke into tears, and then closed the doors again, without sharing any of the wealth he could no longer hope to keep. The next day, he assessed his military strength: one hundred thousand infantry, fifty-five thousand cavalry, and thirteen hundred war elephants. He again wept over the instability of human greatness; and his sorrow was deepened by the aggressive advance of the Turkmans, whom he had introduced into the heart of his Persian kingdom.

In the modern depopulation of Asia, the regular operation of government and agriculture is confined to the neighborhood of cities; and the distant country is abandoned to the pastoral tribes of Arabs, Curds, and Turkmans. Of the last-mentioned people, two considerable branches extend on either side of the Caspian Sea: the western colony can muster forty thousand soldiers; the eastern, less obvious to the traveller, but more strong and populous, has increased to the number of one hundred thousand families. In the midst of civilized nations, they preserve the manners of the Scythian desert, remove their encampments with a change of seasons, and feed their cattle among the ruins of palaces and temples. Their flocks and herds are their only riches; their tents, either black or white, according to the color of the banner, are covered with felt, and of a circular form; their winter apparel is a sheep-skin; a robe of cloth or cotton their summer garment: the features of the men are harsh and ferocious; the countenance of their women is soft and pleasing. Their wandering life maintains the spirit and exercise of arms; they fight on horseback; and their courage is displayed in frequent contests with each other and with their neighbors. For the license of pasture they pay a slight tribute to the sovereign of the land; but the domestic jurisdiction is in the hands of the chiefs and elders. The first emigration of the Eastern Turkmans, the most ancient of the race, may be ascribed to the tenth century of the Christian æra. In the decline of the caliphs, and the weakness of their lieutenants, the barrier of the Jaxartes was often violated; in each invasion, after the victory or retreat of their countrymen, some wandering tribe, embracing the Mahometan faith, obtained a free encampment in the spacious plains and pleasant climate of Transoxiana and Carizme. The Turkish slaves who aspired to the throne encouraged these emigrations which recruited their armies, awed their subjects and rivals, and protected the frontier against the wilder natives of Turkestan; and this policy was abused by Mahmud the Gaznevide beyond the example of former times. He was admonished of his error by the chief of the race of Seljuk, who dwelt in the territory of Bochara. The sultan had inquired what supply of men he could furnish for military service. "If you send," replied Ismael, "one of these arrows into our camp, fifty thousand of your servants will mount on horseback."—"And if that number," continued Mahmud, "should not be sufficient?"—"Send this second arrow to the horde of Balik, and you will find fifty thousand more."—"But," said the Gaznevide, dissembling his anxiety, "if I should stand in need of the whole force of your kindred tribes?"—"Despatch my bow," was the last reply of Ismael, "and as it is circulated around, the summons will be obeyed by two hundred thousand horse." The apprehension of such formidable friendship induced Mahmud to transport the most obnoxious tribes into the heart of Chorasan, where they would be separated from their brethren of the River Oxus, and enclosed on all sides by the walls of obedient cities. But the face of the country was an object of temptation rather than terror; and the vigor of government was relaxed by the absence and death of the sultan of Gazna. The shepherds were converted into robbers; the bands of robbers were collected into an army of conquerors: as far as Ispahan and the Tigris, Persia was afflicted by their predatory inroads; and the Turkmans were not ashamed or afraid to measure their courage and numbers with the proudest sovereigns of Asia. Massoud, the son and successor of Mahmud, had too long neglected the advice of his wisest Omrahs. "Your enemies," they repeatedly urged, "were in their origin a swarm of ants; they are now little snakes; and, unless they be instantly crushed, they will acquire the venom and magnitude of serpents." After some alternatives of truce and hostility, after the repulse or partial success of his lieutenants, the sultan marched in person against the Turkmans, who attacked him on all sides with barbarous shouts and irregular onset. "Massoud," says the Persian historian, "plunged singly to oppose the torrent of gleaming arms, exhibiting such acts of gigantic force and valor as never king had before displayed. A few of his friends, roused by his words and actions, and that innate honor which inspires the brave, seconded their lord so well, that wheresoever he turned his fatal sword, the enemies were mowed down, or retreated before him. But now, when victory seemed to blow on his standard, misfortune was active behind it; for when he looked round, he beheld almost his whole army, excepting that body he commanded in person, devouring the paths of flight." The Gaznevide was abandoned by the cowardice or treachery of some generals of Turkish race; and this memorable day of Zendecan founded in Persia the dynasty of the shepherd kings.

In today's Asia, depopulation has led to government and agriculture primarily operating around cities, while the remote countryside is left to the pastoral groups of Arabs, Kurds, and Turkmans. Among these tribes, two significant branches are found on either side of the Caspian Sea: the western group can muster up to forty thousand soldiers, while the eastern group, less visible to travelers but stronger and more populous, has grown to about one hundred thousand families. Living among civilized societies, they maintain the customs of the Scythian desert, moving their camps with the changing seasons and grazing their animals among the ruins of ancient palaces and temples. Their livestock is their only wealth; their circular tents, covered with felt, are either black or white depending on their banner's color; they wear sheep-skin for winter and cloth or cotton robes for summer. The men's features are harsh and fierce, while the women's faces are soft and attractive. Their nomadic lifestyle fosters a warrior spirit; they ride horses in battle, and their bravery is demonstrated in frequent clashes with one another and neighboring tribes. For grazing rights, they pay a nominal tribute to the land's ruler, while local governance remains with their chiefs and elders. The first migration of the Eastern Turkmans, the oldest of their kind, occurred in the tenth century AD. During the decline of the caliphs and the weakness of their lieutenants, the Jaxartes barrier was often crossed; after each invasion, whether their own triumph or retreat, some wandering tribe adhering to the Muslim faith would settle freely in the expansive plains and favorable climate of Transoxiana and Khwarezm. Turkish slaves aiming for power encouraged these migrations, which bolstered their armies, intimidated their foes, and secured the borders against the more savage inhabitants of Turkestan; this strategy was exploited by Mahmud the Gaznevide like never before. He was warned about his mistake by the leader of the Seljuks residing in Bukhara. The sultan asked what troop strength could be provided for military service. "If you send," Ismael replied, "one of these arrows into our camp, fifty thousand of your men will ride on horseback." — "And if that number," Mahmud continued, "isn't enough?" — "Send this second arrow to the Balik horde, and you'll find fifty thousand more." — "But," said the Gaznevide, hiding his concern, "what if I need the full strength of your related tribes?" — "Send my bow," Ismael's last response was, "and as it is passed around, two hundred thousand horsemen will heed the call." Fearing such powerful allies, Mahmud decided to relocate the most troublesome tribes deep into Khorasan, where they would be isolated from their kin near the Oxus River and surrounded by the walls of loyal cities. However, the allure of the land was more tempting than intimidating, and governmental strength weakened with the absence and death of the Gaznavid sultan. Shepherds turned to thievery; the bands of robbers consolidated into a conquering army: Persia, as far as Isfahan and the Tigris, suffered from their raiding incursions; and the Turkmans were neither ashamed nor afraid to match their courage and numbers against the mightiest sovereigns of Asia. Massoud, Mahmud's son and successor, had ignored his wisest advisors for too long. "Your enemies," they often warned, "were once a swarm of ants; now they are little snakes; and if they aren't crushed immediately, they will grow into venomous serpents." After several cycles of truce and conflict, with his commanders experiencing setbacks or limited victories, the sultan personally led an army against the Turkmans, who surrounded him with barbaric shouts and chaotic attacks. "Massoud," the Persian historian notes, "charged alone into the torrent of gleaming weapons, displaying strength and valor not seen in any previous king. A handful of his friends, inspired by his words and actions, as well as the innate honor that drives the brave, supported their lord so effectively that wherever he swung his deadly sword, the enemies fell or fled. But just as victory seemed imminent, misfortune struck from behind; when he turned around, he saw almost his entire army, except for the unit he led, fleeing in panic." The Gaznevide was betrayed by the cowardice or treachery of some Turkish generals; this remarkable day at Zendecan marked the beginning of the dynasty of the shepherd kings in Persia.

The victorious Turkmans immediately proceeded to the election of a king; and, if the probable tale of a Latin historian deserves any credit, they determined by lot the choice of their new master. A number of arrows were successively inscribed with the name of a tribe, a family, and a candidate; they were drawn from the bundle by the hand of a child; and the important prize was obtained by Togrul Beg, the son of Michael the son of Seljuk, whose surname was immortalized in the greatness of his posterity. The sultan Mahmud, who valued himself on his skill in national genealogy, professed his ignorance of the family of Seljuk; yet the father of that race appears to have been a chief of power and renown. For a daring intrusion into the harem of his prince, Seljuk was banished from Turkestan: with a numerous tribe of his friends and vassals, he passed the Jaxartes, encamped in the neighborhood of Samarcand, embraced the religion of Mahomet, and acquired the crown of martyrdom in a war against the infidels. His age, of a hundred and seven years, surpassed the life of his son, and Seljuk adopted the care of his two grandsons, Togrul and Jaafar; the eldest of whom, at the age of forty-five, was invested with the title of Sultan, in the royal city of Nishabur. The blind determination of chance was justified by the virtues of the successful candidate. It would be superfluous to praise the valor of a Turk; and the ambition of Togrul was equal to his valor. By his arms, the Gasnevides were expelled from the eastern kingdoms of Persia, and gradually driven to the banks of the Indus, in search of a softer and more wealthy conquest. In the West he annihilated the dynasty of the Bowides; and the sceptre of Irak passed from the Persian to the Turkish nation. The princes who had felt, or who feared, the Seljukian arrows, bowed their heads in the dust; by the conquest of Aderbijan, or Media, he approached the Roman confines; and the shepherd presumed to despatch an ambassador, or herald, to demand the tribute and obedience of the emperor of Constantinople. In his own dominions, Togrul was the father of his soldiers and people; by a firm and equal administration, Persia was relieved from the evils of anarchy; and the same hands which had been imbrued in blood became the guardians of justice and the public peace. The more rustic, perhaps the wisest, portion of the Turkmans continued to dwell in the tents of their ancestors; and, from the Oxus to the Euphrates, these military colonies were protected and propagated by their native princes. But the Turks of the court and city were refined by business and softened by pleasure: they imitated the dress, language, and manners of Persia; and the royal palaces of Nishabur and Rei displayed the order and magnificence of a great monarchy. The most deserving of the Arabians and Persians were promoted to the honors of the state; and the whole body of the Turkish nation embraced, with fervor and sincerity, the religion of Mahomet. The northern swarms of Barbarians, who overspread both Europe and Asia, have been irreconcilably separated by the consequences of a similar conduct. Among the Moslems, as among the Christians, their vague and local traditions have yielded to the reason and authority of the prevailing system, to the fame of antiquity, and the consent of nations. But the triumph of the Koran is more pure and meritorious, as it was not assisted by any visible splendor of worship which might allure the Pagans by some resemblance of idolatry. The first of the Seljukian sultans was conspicuous by his zeal and faith: each day he repeated the five prayers which are enjoined to the true believers; of each week, the two first days were consecrated by an extraordinary fast; and in every city a mosch was completed, before Togrul presumed to lay the foundations of a palace.

The victorious Turkmans quickly moved to elect a king; and, if we can trust the likely story from a Latin historian, they chose their new leader by lottery. A number of arrows were each marked with the name of a tribe, a family, and a candidate; they were drawn from a bundle by a child’s hand, and the significant prize went to Togrul Beg, the son of Michael, the son of Seljuk, whose name lives on through his descendants. Sultan Mahmud, who prided himself on his knowledge of national ancestry, claimed he knew nothing about Seljuk's family; however, the founder of that lineage seems to have been a chief of considerable power and fame. For a bold intrusion into the harem of his prince, Seljuk was banished from Turkestan: with a large tribe of friends and vassals, he crossed the Jaxartes, settled near Samarcand, converted to Islam, and achieved martyrdom in a battle against the infidels. He lived to be one hundred and seven years old, outliving his son, and took care of his two grandsons, Togrul and Jaafar; the eldest, at the age of forty-five, was crowned Sultan in the royal city of Nishabur. The random selection was validated by the qualities of the chosen candidate. It would be unnecessary to praise a Turk's bravery, and Togrul’s ambition matched his courage. Through his military efforts, the Gasnevides were driven from the eastern regions of Persia and eventually pushed to the banks of the Indus in search of easier and richer conquests. In the West, he crushed the Bowides dynasty; and the control of Irak shifted from the Persians to the Turkish people. The princes who had experienced or feared the Seljukian might bowed their heads in submission; by conquering Aderbijan or Media, he neared the Roman borders; and this shepherd dared to send an ambassador to demand tribute and loyalty from the emperor of Constantinople. Within his own territories, Togrul was a father to his soldiers and people; through a fair and steady administration, Persia was saved from the chaos of anarchy; and the same hands that had spilled blood became the protectors of justice and peace. The more traditional, and perhaps wiser, part of the Turkmans continued to live in the tents of their ancestors; and from the Oxus to the Euphrates, these military colonies were supported and grown by their local leaders. In contrast, the Turks in the courts and cities became more sophisticated through commerce and pleasure: they adopted the clothing, language, and customs of Persia; and the royal palaces of Nishabur and Rei displayed the order and splendor of a major monarchy. The most deserving from among the Arabs and Persians were elevated to state honors; and the entire Turkish nation wholeheartedly embraced Islam. The northern hordes of barbarians, who spread over both Europe and Asia, have been irreparably divided by the consequences of similar behavior. Among the Muslims, as among the Christians, vague and local traditions have given way to the reasoning and authority of the dominant system, the fame of ancient practices, and the consensus of nations. However, the victory of the Koran is more pure and commendable, as it wasn’t supported by any visible grandeur of worship that might attract pagans with the likeness of idolatry. The first of the Seljukian sultans was notable for his zeal and faith: each day he offered the five prescribed prayers for true believers; the first two days of each week were dedicated to a special fast; and in every city, a mosque was built before Togrul dared to start the foundations of a palace.

With the belief of the Koran, the son of Seljuk imbibed a lively reverence for the successor of the prophet. But that sublime character was still disputed by the caliphs of Bagdad and Egypt, and each of the rivals was solicitous to prove his title in the judgment of the strong, though illiterate Barbarians. Mahmud the Gaznevide had declared himself in favor of the line of Abbas; and had treated with indignity the robe of honor which was presented by the Fatimite ambassador. Yet the ungrateful Hashemite had changed with the change of fortune; he applauded the victory of Zendecan, and named the Seljukian sultan his temporal vicegerent over the Moslem world. As Togrul executed and enlarged this important trust, he was called to the deliverance of the caliph Cayem, and obeyed the holy summons, which gave a new kingdom to his arms. In the palace of Bagdad, the commander of the faithful still slumbered, a venerable phantom. His servant or master, the prince of the Bowides, could no longer protect him from the insolence of meaner tyrants; and the Euphrates and Tigris were oppressed by the revolt of the Turkish and Arabian emirs. The presence of a conqueror was implored as a blessing; and the transient mischiefs of fire and sword were excused as the sharp but salutary remedies which alone could restore the health of the republic. At the head of an irresistible force, the sultan of Persia marched from Hamadan: the proud were crushed, the prostrate were spared; the prince of the Bowides disappeared; the heads of the most obstinate rebels were laid at the feet of Togrul; and he inflicted a lesson of obedience on the people of Mosul and Bagdad. After the chastisement of the guilty, and the restoration of peace, the royal shepherd accepted the reward of his labors; and a solemn comedy represented the triumph of religious prejudice over Barbarian power. The Turkish sultan embarked on the Tigris, landed at the gate of Racca, and made his public entry on horseback. At the palace-gate he respectfully dismounted, and walked on foot, preceded by his emirs without arms. The caliph was seated behind his black veil: the black garment of the Abbassides was cast over his shoulders, and he held in his hand the staff of the apostle of God. The conqueror of the East kissed the ground, stood some time in a modest posture, and was led towards the throne by the vizier and interpreter. After Togrul had seated himself on another throne, his commission was publicly read, which declared him the temporal lieutenant of the vicar of the prophet. He was successively invested with seven robes of honor, and presented with seven slaves, the natives of the seven climates of the Arabian empire. His mystic veil was perfumed with musk; two crowns were placed on his head; two cimeters were girded to his side, as the symbols of a double reign over the East and West. After this inauguration, the sultan was prevented from prostrating himself a second time; but he twice kissed the hand of the commander of the faithful, and his titles were proclaimed by the voice of heralds and the applause of the Moslems. In a second visit to Bagdad, the Seljukian prince again rescued the caliph from his enemies and devoutly, on foot, led the bridle of his mule from the prison to the palace. Their alliance was cemented by the marriage of Togrul's sister with the successor of the prophet. Without reluctance he had introduced a Turkish virgin into his harem; but Cayem proudly refused his daughter to the sultan, disdained to mingle the blood of the Hashemites with the blood of a Scythian shepherd; and protracted the negotiation many months, till the gradual diminution of his revenue admonished him that he was still in the hands of a master. The royal nuptials were followed by the death of Togrul himself; as he left no children, his nephew Alp Arslan succeeded to the title and prerogatives of sultan; and his name, after that of the caliph, was pronounced in the public prayers of the Moslems. Yet in this revolution, the Abbassides acquired a larger measure of liberty and power. On the throne of Asia, the Turkish monarchs were less jealous of the domestic administration of Bagdad; and the commanders of the faithful were relieved from the ignominious vexations to which they had been exposed by the presence and poverty of the Persian dynasty.

With the belief in the Koran, Seljuk's son developed a strong respect for the prophet's successor. However, that elevated status was still contested by the caliphs of Baghdad and Egypt, each eager to prove their legitimacy in the eyes of the powerful, even if they were uneducated Barbarians. Mahmud the Gaznevide had declared his support for the Abbasid line and had treated the robe of honor presented by the Fatimid ambassador with disdain. Yet, the ungrateful Hashemite changed with the tides of fortune; he praised Zendecan's victory and named the Seljuk sultan his earthly vicegerent over the Muslim world. As Togrul took on this significant responsibility, he was called to rescue the caliph Cayem and answered the holy summons, which earned him a new kingdom. In the palace of Baghdad, the commander of the faithful still slept, a venerable shadow. His servant or master, the prince of the Bowides, could no longer safeguard him from the arrogance of lesser tyrants; the Euphrates and Tigris were burdened by the revolts of the Turkish and Arabian emirs. A conqueror's presence was sought as a blessing, and the temporary damages of war were excused as harsh but necessary treatments to restore the republic's health. Leading an unstoppable force, the sultan of Persia marched from Hamadan: the prideful were crushed, while the defeated were spared; the prince of the Bowides faded from view; the heads of the most stubborn rebels were laid at Togrul's feet; and he taught a lesson of obedience to the people of Mosul and Baghdad. After punishing the guilty and restoring peace, the royal leader accepted his reward; a grand performance symbolized the victory of religious bias over barbaric rule. The Turkish sultan boarded a boat on the Tigris, landed at the gates of Racca, and made his entrance on horseback. At the palace gate, he dismounted respectfully and walked on foot, preceded by his armed emirs. The caliph was seated behind his black veil, the dark robe of the Abbasids draped over his shoulders, holding the staff of the prophet's apostle. The conqueror of the East kissed the ground, remained in a humble posture for a moment, and was led to the throne by the vizier and interpreter. After Togrul took his place on another throne, his commission was publicly read, proclaiming him the temporal deputy of the prophet's vicar. He was successively given seven robes of honor and presented with seven slaves from the seven regions of the Arabian empire. His mystical veil was scented with musk; two crowns were placed on his head; two sabers were strapped to his side, symbolizing his dual reign over the East and West. After this ceremony, the sultan was prevented from bowing down again; he kissed the hand of the commander of the faithful twice, and his titles were announced by heralds and applauded by the Muslims. During a second visit to Baghdad, the Seljuk prince once again saved the caliph from his enemies and dutifully, on foot, led his mule from the prison to the palace. Their alliance was solidified by Togrul's sister marrying the prophet's successor. Without hesitation, he brought a Turkish woman into his harem; however, Cayem boastfully refused to marry his daughter to the sultan, unwilling to mix the blood of the Hashemites with that of a Scythian shepherd, and prolonged the negotiations for many months, until he realized his dwindling revenue indicated he was still under a master’s control. The royal wedding was followed by Togrul's own death; since he had no children, his nephew Alp Arslan inherited the title and privileges of sultan, and his name, following that of the caliph, was mentioned in public prayers of the Muslims. Yet, in this transition, the Abbasids gained greater freedom and power. On the throne of Asia, the Turkish monarchs were less possessive over Baghdad's domestic affairs, and the commanders of the faithful were relieved from the disgraceful annoyances they had suffered due to the presence and poverty of the Persian dynasty.





Chapter LVII: The Turks.—Part II.

Since the fall of the caliphs, the discord and degeneracy of the Saracens respected the Asiatic provinces of Rome; which, by the victories of Nicephorus, Zimisces, and Basil, had been extended as far as Antioch and the eastern boundaries of Armenia. Twenty-five years after the death of Basil, his successors were suddenly assaulted by an unknown race of Barbarians, who united the Scythian valor with the fanaticism of new proselytes, and the art and riches of a powerful monarchy. The myriads of Turkish horse overspread a frontier of six hundred miles from Tauris to Arzeroum, and the blood of one hundred and thirty thousand Christians was a grateful sacrifice to the Arabian prophet. Yet the arms of Togrul did not make any deep or lasting impression on the Greek empire. The torrent rolled away from the open country; the sultan retired without glory or success from the siege of an Armenian city; the obscure hostilities were continued or suspended with a vicissitude of events; and the bravery of the Macedonian legions renewed the fame of the conqueror of Asia. The name of Alp Arslan, the valiant lion, is expressive of the popular idea of the perfection of man; and the successor of Togrul displayed the fierceness and generosity of the royal animal. He passed the Euphrates at the head of the Turkish cavalry, and entered Cæsarea, the metropolis of Cappadocia, to which he had been attracted by the fame and wealth of the temple of St. Basil. The solid structure resisted the destroyer: but he carried away the doors of the shrine incrusted with gold and pearls, and profaned the relics of the tutelar saint, whose mortal frailties were now covered by the venerable rust of antiquity. The final conquest of Armenia and Georgia was achieved by Alp Arslan. In Armenia, the title of a kingdom, and the spirit of a nation, were annihilated: the artificial fortifications were yielded by the mercenaries of Constantinople; by strangers without faith, veterans without pay or arms, and recruits without experience or discipline. The loss of this important frontier was the news of a day; and the Catholics were neither surprised nor displeased, that a people so deeply infected with the Nestorian and Eutychian errors had been delivered by Christ and his mother into the hands of the infidels. The woods and valleys of Mount Caucasus were more strenuously defended by the native Georgians or Iberians; but the Turkish sultan and his son Malek were indefatigable in this holy war: their captives were compelled to promise a spiritual, as well as temporal, obedience; and, instead of their collars and bracelets, an iron horseshoe, a badge of ignominy, was imposed on the infidels who still adhered to the worship of their fathers. The change, however, was not sincere or universal; and, through ages of servitude, the Georgians have maintained the succession of their princes and bishops. But a race of men, whom nature has cast in her most perfect mould, is degraded by poverty, ignorance, and vice; their profession, and still more their practice, of Christianity is an empty name; and if they have emerged from heresy, it is only because they are too illiterate to remember a metaphysical creed.

Since the fall of the caliphs, the conflict and decline of the Saracens affected the Asian provinces of Rome, which had been expanded as far as Antioch and the eastern borders of Armenia due to the victories of Nicephorus, Zimisces, and Basil. Twenty-five years after Basil's death, his successors faced a sudden attack from an unknown group of Barbarians, who combined the bravery of the Scythians with the zeal of new converts, alongside the wealth and skills of a powerful monarchy. The countless Turkish horsemen spread across a front of six hundred miles from Tauris to Arzeroum, and the blood of one hundred thirty thousand Christians was a sacrifice dedicated to the Arabian prophet. However, Togrul's forces did not leave a significant or lasting impact on the Greek empire. The tide of battle moved away from open fields; the sultan withdrew without glory or success from the siege of an Armenian city; various minor conflicts continued or paused with changing fortunes; and the bravery of the Macedonian legions restored the reputation of the conqueror of Asia. The name Alp Arslan, the brave lion, embodies the popular ideal of human perfection, and Togrul's successor showcased both the fierceness and generosity of the royal beast. He crossed the Euphrates at the head of the Turkish cavalry and entered Cæsarea, the capital of Cappadocia, drawn by the fame and riches of the temple of St. Basil. The solid structure resisted destruction, but he took away the doors of the shrine adorned with gold and pearls and violated the relics of the guardian saint, whose human flaws were now hidden beneath the venerable rust of age. Alp Arslan completed the conquest of Armenia and Georgia. In Armenia, the notion of a kingdom and the spirit of a nation were destroyed; the artificial fortifications fell to the mercenaries of Constantinople, who were unfaithful foreigners, veterans without pay or weapons, and recruits lacking experience or discipline. The loss of this crucial frontier was a fleeting headline, and the Catholics were neither shocked nor displeased that a people so deeply affected by Nestorian and Eutychian errors had been handed over by Christ and his mother to the infidels. The forests and valleys of Mount Caucasus were fought over more fiercely by the native Georgians or Iberians; however, the Turkish sultan and his son Malek were tireless in this holy war: their prisoners were forced to pledge both spiritual and temporal obedience, and instead of traditional collars and bracelets, an iron horseshoe, a mark of shame, was imposed on the infidels who still followed their ancestral worship. Yet, the change was not sincere or widespread; through ages of servitude, the Georgians upheld the lineage of their princes and bishops. However, a people whom nature designed in her most perfect form are trapped in poverty, ignorance, and vice; their profession, and even more their practice, of Christianity is merely an empty title; and if they have escaped heresy, it is only because they are too uneducated to remember a complex creed.

The false or genuine magnanimity of Mahmud the Gaznevide was not imitated by Alp Arslan; and he attacked without scruple the Greek empress Eudocia and her children. His alarming progress compelled her to give herself and her sceptre to the hand of a soldier; and Romanus Diogenes was invested with the Imperial purple. His patriotism, and perhaps his pride, urged him from Constantinople within two months after his accession; and the next campaign he most scandalously took the field during the holy festival of Easter. In the palace, Diogenes was no more than the husband of Eudocia: in the camp, he was the emperor of the Romans, and he sustained that character with feeble resources and invincible courage. By his spirit and success the soldiers were taught to act, the subjects to hope, and the enemies to fear. The Turks had penetrated into the heart of Phrygia; but the sultan himself had resigned to his emirs the prosecution of the war; and their numerous detachments were scattered over Asia in the security of conquest. Laden with spoil, and careless of discipline, they were separately surprised and defeated by the Greeks: the activity of the emperor seemed to multiply his presence: and while they heard of his expedition to Antioch, the enemy felt his sword on the hills of Trebizond. In three laborious campaigns, the Turks were driven beyond the Euphrates; in the fourth and last, Romanus undertook the deliverance of Armenia. The desolation of the land obliged him to transport a supply of two months' provisions; and he marched forwards to the siege of Malazkerd, an important fortress in the midway between the modern cities of Arzeroum and Van. His army amounted, at the least, to one hundred thousand men. The troops of Constantinople were reënforced by the disorderly multitudes of Phrygia and Cappadocia; but the real strength was composed of the subjects and allies of Europe, the legions of Macedonia, and the squadrons of Bulgaria; the Uzi, a Moldavian horde, who were themselves of the Turkish race; and, above all, the mercenary and adventurous bands of French and Normans. Their lances were commanded by the valiant Ursel of Baliol, the kinsman or father of the Scottish kings, and were allowed to excel in the exercise of arms, or, according to the Greek style, in the practice of the Pyrrhic dance.

The fake or real generosity of Mahmud the Gaznevide was not mimicked by Alp Arslan; he ruthlessly attacked the Greek empress Eudocia and her children. His terrifying advance forced her to surrender both herself and her reign to a soldier, and Romanus Diogenes was crowned with the Imperial robes. His sense of patriotism, and maybe his pride, drove him from Constantinople just two months after becoming emperor; and during the next campaign, he scandalously took the field during the holy Easter festival. In the palace, Diogenes was merely Eudocia's husband; in the camp, he was the emperor of the Romans, maintaining that role with limited resources and unwavering courage. His spirit and success inspired the soldiers to act, gave hope to the subjects, and instilled fear in the enemies. The Turks had invaded the heart of Phrygia; however, the sultan had delegated the continuation of the war to his emirs, and their numerous detachments were spread across Asia, feeling secure from victory. Loaded with spoils and neglecting discipline, they were individually caught off guard and defeated by the Greeks: the activity of the emperor seemed to enhance his presence. While they heard of his expedition to Antioch, the enemy felt his sword on the hills of Trebizond. In three intense campaigns, the Turks were pushed back beyond the Euphrates; in the fourth and final one, Romanus aimed to rescue Armenia. The devastation of the land forced him to carry a supply of provisions for two months; he moved forward to besiege Malazkerd, an important fortress situated between what are now the cities of Arzeroum and Van. His army numbered at least one hundred thousand men. The troops from Constantinople were reinforced by the chaotic crowds of Phrygia and Cappadocia; but the real strength came from the subjects and allies of Europe, the legions of Macedonia, and the squadrons of Bulgaria; the Uzi, a Moldavian horde, who were themselves of Turkish descent; and, most importantly, the mercenary and daring groups of French and Normans. Their lances were led by the brave Ursel of Baliol, a relative or ancestor of the Scottish kings, and they were known for their skill in warfare, or, according to the Greek tradition, for their practice of the Pyrrhic dance.

On the report of this bold invasion, which threatened his hereditary dominions, Alp Arslan flew to the scene of action at the head of forty thousand horse. His rapid and skilful evolutions distressed and dismayed the superior numbers of the Greeks; and in the defeat of Basilacius, one of their principal generals, he displayed the first example of his valor and clemency. The imprudence of the emperor had separated his forces after the reduction of Malazkerd. It was in vain that he attempted to recall the mercenary Franks: they refused to obey his summons; he disdained to await their return: the desertion of the Uzi filled his mind with anxiety and suspicion; and against the most salutary advice he rushed forwards to speedy and decisive action. Had he listened to the fair proposals of the sultan, Romanus might have secured a retreat, perhaps a peace; but in these overtures he supposed the fear or weakness of the enemy, and his answer was conceived in the tone of insult and defiance. "If the Barbarian wishes for peace, let him evacuate the ground which he occupies for the encampment of the Romans, and surrender his city and palace of Rei as a pledge of his sincerity." Alp Arslan smiled at the vanity of the demand, but he wept the death of so many faithful Moslems; and, after a devout prayer, proclaimed a free permission to all who were desirous of retiring from the field. With his own hands he tied up his horse's tail, exchanged his bow and arrows for a mace and cimeter, clothed himself in a white garment, perfumed his body with musk, and declared that if he were vanquished, that spot should be the place of his burial. The sultan himself had affected to cast away his missile weapons: but his hopes of victory were placed in the arrows of the Turkish cavalry, whose squadrons were loosely distributed in the form of a crescent. Instead of the successive lines and reserves of the Grecian tactics, Romulus led his army in a single and solid phalanx, and pressed with vigor and impatience the artful and yielding resistance of the Barbarians. In this desultory and fruitless combat he spent the greater part of a summer's day, till prudence and fatigue compelled him to return to his camp. But a retreat is always perilous in the face of an active foe; and no sooner had the standard been turned to the rear than the phalanx was broken by the base cowardice, or the baser jealousy, of Andronicus, a rival prince, who disgraced his birth and the purple of the Cæsars. The Turkish squadrons poured a cloud of arrows on this moment of confusion and lassitude; and the horns of their formidable crescent were closed in the rear of the Greeks. In the destruction of the army and pillage of the camp, it would be needless to mention the number of the slain or captives. The Byzantine writers deplore the loss of an inestimable pearl: they forgot to mention, that in this fatal day the Asiatic provinces of Rome were irretrievably sacrificed.

On hearing about this bold invasion that threatened his lands, Alp Arslan rushed to the scene with forty thousand cavalry. His quick and skillful maneuvers troubled and intimidated the larger Greek forces; in defeating Basilacius, one of their main generals, he showcased his bravery and mercy for the first time. The emperor's carelessness had split his forces after taking Malazkerd. He tried in vain to call back the mercenary Franks; they ignored his orders, and he refused to wait for their return. The defection of the Uzi filled him with worry and doubt, and despite wise counsel, he charged ahead for a quick and decisive confrontation. Had he accepted the sultan's fair offers, Romanus might have managed a retreat or maybe even a peace agreement; but he misread these gestures as signs of fear or weakness from the enemy and responded with insults and defiance. "If the Barbarian wants peace, he should leave the land he occupies for the Roman encampment and surrender his city and palace of Rei as a guarantee of his honesty." Alp Arslan chuckled at the arrogance of the demand but mourned the deaths of so many loyal Muslims; after a sincere prayer, he allowed anyone who wanted to leave the battlefield to do so freely. He personally tied up his horse's tail, swapped his bow and arrows for a mace and scimitar, dressed in white, scented himself with musk, and declared that if he were defeated, that spot would be his burial site. The sultan pretended to discard his projectile weapons, but he relied on the arrows from the Turkish cavalry, whose units were loosely arranged in a crescent formation. Instead of the layered lines and reserves typical of Greek tactics, Romulus led his army in a single, strong phalanx, pushing hard against the clever and retreating resistance of the Barbarians. He spent most of a summer day in this scattered and unproductive combat until common sense and exhaustion forced him to fall back to his camp. However, retreat is always risky against an active enemy, and as soon as the standard turned back, the phalanx fell apart due to the cowardice or jealousy of Andronicus, a rival prince who brought shame to his lineage and the imperial purple. The Turkish forces unleashed a storm of arrows during this moment of chaos and weakness, encircling the Greeks with their dangerous crescent formation. In the destruction of the army and the looting of the camp, it's unnecessary to name the fallen or captured. The Byzantine writers lament the loss of an invaluable gem: they forget to mention that on this disastrous day, the Asian provinces of Rome were irretrievably lost.

As long as a hope survived, Romanus attempted to rally and save the relics of his army. When the centre, the Imperial station, was left naked on all sides, and encompassed by the victorious Turks, he still, with desperate courage, maintained the fight till the close of day, at the head of the brave and faithful subjects who adhered to his standard. They fell around him; his horse was slain; the emperor was wounded; yet he stood alone and intrepid, till he was oppressed and bound by the strength of multitudes. The glory of this illustrious prize was disputed by a slave and a soldier; a slave who had seen him on the throne of Constantinople, and a soldier whose extreme deformity had been excused on the promise of some signal service. Despoiled of his arms, his jewels, and his purple, Romanus spent a dreary and perilous night on the field of battle, amidst a disorderly crowd of the meaner Barbarians. In the morning the royal captive was presented to Alp Arslan, who doubted of his fortune, till the identity of the person was ascertained by the report of his ambassadors, and by the more pathetic evidence of Basilacius, who embraced with tears the feet of his unhappy sovereign. The successor of Constantine, in a plebeian habit, was led into the Turkish divan, and commanded to kiss the ground before the lord of Asia. He reluctantly obeyed; and Alp Arslan, starting from his throne, is said to have planted his foot on the neck of the Roman emperor. But the fact is doubtful; and if, in this moment of insolence, the sultan complied with the national custom, the rest of his conduct has extorted the praise of his bigoted foes, and may afford a lesson to the most civilized ages. He instantly raised the royal captive from the ground; and thrice clasping his hand with tender sympathy, assured him, that his life and dignity should be inviolate in the hands of a prince who had learned to respect the majesty of his equals and the vicissitudes of fortune. From the divan, Romanus was conducted to an adjacent tent, where he was served with pomp and reverence by the officers of the sultan, who, twice each day, seated him in the place of honor at his own table. In a free and familiar conversation of eight days, not a word, not a look, of insult escaped from the conqueror; but he severely censured the unworthy subjects who had deserted their valiant prince in the hour of danger, and gently admonished his antagonist of some errors which he had committed in the management of the war. In the preliminaries of negotiation, Alp Arslan asked him what treatment he expected to receive, and the calm indifference of the emperor displays the freedom of his mind. "If you are cruel," said he, "you will take my life; if you listen to pride, you will drag me at your chariot-wheels; if you consult your interest, you will accept a ransom, and restore me to my country." "And what," continued the sultan, "would have been your own behavior, had fortune smiled on your arms?" The reply of the Greek betrays a sentiment, which prudence, and even gratitude, should have taught him to suppress. "Had I vanquished," he fiercely said, "I would have inflicted on thy body many a stripe." The Turkish conqueror smiled at the insolence of his captive; observed that the Christian law inculcated the love of enemies and forgiveness of injuries; and nobly declared, that he would not imitate an example which he condemned. After mature deliberation, Alp Arslan dictated the terms of liberty and peace, a ransom of a million, an annual tribute of three hundred and sixty thousand pieces of gold, the marriage of the royal children, and the deliverance of all the Moslems, who were in the power of the Greeks. Romanus, with a sigh, subscribed this treaty, so disgraceful to the majesty of the empire; he was immediately invested with a Turkish robe of honor; his nobles and patricians were restored to their sovereign; and the sultan, after a courteous embrace, dismissed him with rich presents and a military guard. No sooner did he reach the confines of the empire, than he was informed that the palace and provinces had disclaimed their allegiance to a captive: a sum of two hundred thousand pieces was painfully collected; and the fallen monarch transmitted this part of his ransom, with a sad confession of his impotence and disgrace. The generosity, or perhaps the ambition, of the sultan, prepared to espouse the cause of his ally; but his designs were prevented by the defeat, imprisonment, and death, of Romanus Diogenes.

As long as there was still hope, Romanus tried to rally and save the remnants of his army. When the center, the imperial base, was left vulnerable on all sides and surrounded by the victorious Turks, he bravely continued to fight until the end of the day, leading the loyal and courageous subjects who stood by him. They fell around him; his horse was killed; the emperor was wounded; yet he stood alone and fearless until he was overwhelmed and captured by the strength of the masses. The glory of this significant prize was contested by a slave and a soldier; a slave who had seen him on the throne of Constantinople, and a soldier whose severe deformity was forgiven in exchange for a promise of notable service. Stripped of his armor, jewels, and royal garments, Romanus spent a bleak and dangerous night on the battlefield among a chaotic crowd of lesser barbarians. In the morning, the royal captive was brought before Alp Arslan, who doubted his fortune until the identity of the man was confirmed by his ambassadors and by the more emotional testimony of Basilacius, who tearfully embraced the feet of his unfortunate sovereign. The successor of Constantine, dressed in common clothes, was brought into the Turkish council and ordered to kiss the ground before the lord of Asia. He did so reluctantly; and it’s said that Alp Arslan, rising from his throne, placed his foot on the neck of the Roman emperor. However, this fact is uncertain, and if the sultan did follow this national custom in a moment of arrogance, the rest of his actions earned him praise even from his most biased enemies and may offer a lesson for the most civilized times. He immediately lifted the royal captive from the ground; and while holding his hand with genuine sympathy three times, assured him that his life and honor would be safe in the hands of a ruler who knew how to respect the dignity of his equals and the shifts of fortune. From the council, Romanus was taken to a nearby tent, where he was treated with honor and respect by the sultan's officers, who seated him in the place of honor at their own table twice a day. Throughout an open and friendly conversation lasting eight days, not a single word or glance of insult came from the conqueror; instead, he strongly criticized the unworthy subjects who had abandoned their brave prince in his time of need and gently pointed out some mistakes Romanus had made in the conduct of the war. In the early negotiations, Alp Arslan asked him what treatment he expected, and the calm indifference of the emperor showed his mental freedom. "If you are cruel," he said, "you will take my life; if you act out of pride, you will drag me behind your chariot; if you act in your own interest, you will accept a ransom and send me back to my country." "And what," continued the sultan, "would you have done if fortune had favored you?" The Greek's response revealed a sentiment that prudence and even gratitude should have prompted him to hide. "If I had conquered," he replied fiercely, "I would have inflicted many wounds on your body." The Turkish conqueror smiled at his captive's insolence, noted that Christian teachings emphasized love for enemies and forgiveness of grievances, and nobly stated that he would not imitate an example he disapproved of. After careful consideration, Alp Arslan set the terms for Romanus's release and peace: a ransom of a million, an annual tribute of three hundred sixty thousand gold coins, the marriage of royal children, and the release of all Muslims held by the Greeks. Romanus sighed and signed this treaty, which was so humiliating to the glory of the empire; he was immediately given a Turkish robe of honor, his nobles and patricians were returned to their sovereign, and the sultan, after a courteous embrace, sent him off with rich gifts and a military escort. As soon as he reached the borders of the empire, he learned that the palace and provinces had renounced their loyalty to a captive: a sum of two hundred thousand coins was painfully gathered, and the fallen monarch sent this portion of his ransom along with a sorrowful acknowledgment of his powerlessness and disgrace. The sultan's generosity, or perhaps ambition, prepared to support the cause of his ally; however, his plans were thwarted by the defeat, imprisonment, and death of Romanus Diogenes.

In the treaty of peace, it does not appear that Alp Arslan extorted any province or city from the captive emperor; and his revenge was satisfied with the trophies of his victory, and the spoils of Anatolia, from Antioch to the Black Sea. The fairest part of Asia was subject to his laws: twelve hundred princes, or the sons of princes, stood before his throne; and two hundred thousand soldiers marched under his banners. The sultan disdained to pursue the fugitive Greeks; but he meditated the more glorious conquest of Turkestan, the original seat of the house of Seljuk. He moved from Bagdad to the banks of the Oxus; a bridge was thrown over the river; and twenty days were consumed in the passage of his troops. But the progress of the great king was retarded by the governor of Berzem; and Joseph the Carizmian presumed to defend his fortress against the powers of the East. When he was produced a captive in the royal tent, the sultan, instead of praising his valor, severely reproached his obstinate folly: and the insolent replies of the rebel provoked a sentence, that he should be fastened to four stakes, and left to expire in that painful situation. At this command, the desperate Carizmian, drawing a dagger, rushed headlong towards the throne: the guards raised their battle-axes; their zeal was checked by Alp Arslan, the most skilful archer of the age: he drew his bow, but his foot slipped, the arrow glanced aside, and he received in his breast the dagger of Joseph, who was instantly cut in pieces. The wound was mortal; and the Turkish prince bequeathed a dying admonition to the pride of kings. "In my youth," said Alp Arslan, "I was advised by a sage to humble myself before God; to distrust my own strength; and never to despise the most contemptible foe. I have neglected these lessons; and my neglect has been deservedly punished. Yesterday, as from an eminence I beheld the numbers, the discipline, and the spirit, of my armies, the earth seemed to tremble under my feet; and I said in my heart, Surely thou art the king of the world, the greatest and most invincible of warriors. These armies are no longer mine; and, in the confidence of my personal strength, I now fall by the hand of an assassin." Alp Arslan possessed the virtues of a Turk and a Mussulman; his voice and stature commanded the reverence of mankind; his face was shaded with long whiskers; and his ample turban was fashioned in the shape of a crown. The remains of the sultan were deposited in the tomb of the Seljukian dynasty; and the passenger might read and meditate this useful inscription: "O ye who have seen the glory of Alp Arslan exalted to the heavens, repair to Maru, and you will behold it buried in the dust." The annihilation of the inscription, and the tomb itself, more forcibly proclaims the instability of human greatness.

In the peace treaty, it doesn’t seem that Alp Arslan took any province or city from the captured emperor; his vengeance was satisfied with the trophies of his victory and the spoils of Anatolia, stretching from Antioch to the Black Sea. The most beautiful part of Asia was under his rule: twelve hundred princes, or the sons of princes, stood before his throne; and two hundred thousand soldiers marched under his banners. The sultan chose not to chase the fleeing Greeks; instead, he planned the more glorious conquest of Turkestan, the original homeland of the Seljuks. He moved from Bagdad to the banks of the Oxus; a bridge was built over the river; and his troops took twenty days to cross. However, the governor of Berzem slowed the progress of the great king; and Joseph the Carizmian dared to defend his fortress against the Eastern powers. When he was brought in as a captive to the royal tent, instead of praising his bravery, the sultan harshly criticized his stubborn foolishness: and the defiant responses of the rebel led to a sentence that he should be tied to four stakes and left to die in that painful state. At this command, the desperate Carizmian, pulling out a dagger, charged toward the throne: the guards raised their battle-axes; their enthusiasm was stopped by Alp Arslan, the most skilled archer of his time: he drew his bow, but his foot slipped, the arrow went astray, and he was struck in the chest by Joseph's dagger, who was immediately cut to pieces. The wound was fatal; and the Turkish prince left a dying warning to the arrogance of kings. "In my youth," said Alp Arslan, "a wise man advised me to humble myself before God; to doubt my own strength; and never to underestimate the weakest enemy. I have ignored these lessons; and my neglect has rightly led to my punishment. Yesterday, as I looked down from a high place at the numbers, discipline, and spirit of my armies, the ground seemed to shake beneath me; and I thought in my heart, Surely you are the king of the world, the greatest and most unbeatable of warriors. These armies are no longer mine; and in my overconfidence, I now fall by the hands of an assassin." Alp Arslan had the virtues of a Turk and a Muslim; his voice and stature commanded the respect of people; his face was framed with long whiskers; and his large turban was shaped like a crown. The remains of the sultan were laid to rest in the tomb of the Seljuk dynasty; and the traveler might read and reflect on this poignant inscription: "O you who have seen the glory of Alp Arslan lifted to the heavens, go to Maru, and you will see it buried in the dust." The destruction of the inscription, and the tomb itself, powerfully demonstrates the fragility of human greatness.

During the life of Alp Arslan, his eldest son had been acknowledged as the future sultan of the Turks. On his father's death the inheritance was disputed by an uncle, a cousin, and a brother: they drew their cimeters, and assembled their followers; and the triple victory of Malek Shah established his own reputation and the right of primogeniture. In every age, and more especially in Asia, the thirst of power has inspired the same passions, and occasioned the same disorders; but, from the long series of civil war, it would not be easy to extract a sentiment more pure and magnanimous than is contained in the saying of the Turkish prince. On the eve of the battle, he performed his devotions at Thous, before the tomb of the Imam Riza. As the sultan rose from the ground, he asked his vizier Nizam, who had knelt beside him, what had been the object of his secret petition: "That your arms may be crowned with victory," was the prudent, and most probably the sincere, answer of the minister. "For my part," replied the generous Malek, "I implored the Lord of Hosts that he would take from me my life and crown, if my brother be more worthy than myself to reign over the Moslems." The favorable judgment of heaven was ratified by the caliph; and for the first time, the sacred title of Commander of the Faithful was communicated to a Barbarian. But this Barbarian, by his personal merit, and the extent of his empire, was the greatest prince of his age. After the settlement of Persia and Syria, he marched at the head of innumerable armies to achieve the conquest of Turkestan, which had been undertaken by his father. In his passage of the Oxus, the boatmen, who had been employed in transporting some troops, complained, that their payment was assigned on the revenues of Antioch. The sultan frowned at this preposterous choice; but he smiled at the artful flattery of his vizier. "It was not to postpone their reward, that I selected those remote places, but to leave a memorial to posterity, that, under your reign, Antioch and the Oxus were subject to the same sovereign." But this description of his limits was unjust and parsimonious: beyond the Oxus, he reduced to his obedience the cities of Bochara, Carizme, and Samarcand, and crushed each rebellious slave, or independent savage, who dared to resist. Malek passed the Sihon or Jaxartes, the last boundary of Persian civilization: the hordes of Turkestan yielded to his supremacy: his name was inserted on the coins, and in the prayers of Cashgar, a Tartar kingdom on the extreme borders of China. From the Chinese frontier, he stretched his immediate jurisdiction or feudatory sway to the west and south, as far as the mountains of Georgia, the neighborhood of Constantinople, the holy city of Jerusalem, and the spicy groves of Arabia Felix. Instead of resigning himself to the luxury of his harem, the shepherd king, both in peace and war, was in action and in the field. By the perpetual motion of the royal camp, each province was successively blessed with his presence; and he is said to have perambulated twelve times the wide extent of his dominions, which surpassed the Asiatic reign of Cyrus and the caliphs. Of these expeditions, the most pious and splendid was the pilgrimage of Mecca: the freedom and safety of the caravans were protected by his arms; the citizens and pilgrims were enriched by the profusion of his alms; and the desert was cheered by the places of relief and refreshment, which he instituted for the use of his brethren. Hunting was the pleasure, and even the passion, of the sultan, and his train consisted of forty-seven thousand horses; but after the massacre of a Turkish chase, for each piece of game, he bestowed a piece of gold on the poor, a slight atonement, at the expense of the people, for the cost and mischief of the amusement of kings. In the peaceful prosperity of his reign, the cities of Asia were adorned with palaces and hospitals with moschs and colleges; few departed from his Divan without reward, and none without justice. The language and literature of Persia revived under the house of Seljuk; and if Malek emulated the liberality of a Turk less potent than himself, his palace might resound with the songs of a hundred poets. The sultan bestowed a more serious and learned care on the reformation of the calendar, which was effected by a general assembly of the astronomers of the East. By a law of the prophet, the Moslems are confined to the irregular course of the lunar months; in Persia, since the age of Zoroaster, the revolution of the sun has been known and celebrated as an annual festival; but after the fall of the Magian empire, the intercalation had been neglected; the fractions of minutes and hours were multiplied into days; and the date of the springs was removed from the sign of Aries to that of Pisces. The reign of Malek was illustrated by the Gelalan æra; and all errors, either past or future, were corrected by a computation of time, which surpasses the Julian, and approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian, style.

During Alp Arslan's life, his eldest son was recognized as the future sultan of the Turks. After his father's death, the inheritance was contested by an uncle, a cousin, and a brother: they drew their swords and gathered their followers; and Malek Shah's decisive victory established his reputation and the right of primogeniture. Throughout history, especially in Asia, the desire for power has sparked similar passions and caused the same chaos; however, from the long history of civil wars, it is hard to find a sentiment as pure and noble as that of the Turkish prince. The night before the battle, he prayed at Thous, before the tomb of the Imam Riza. When the sultan got up, he asked his vizier Nizam, who had knelt next to him, what his secret prayer had been: "That your arms may be blessed with victory," was the wise and likely sincere reply from the minister. "For my part," said the noble Malek, "I prayed that the Lord of Hosts would take my life and crown if my brother is more deserving than me to rule over the Muslims." Heaven’s favorable decision was confirmed by the caliph; and for the first time, the sacred title of Commander of the Faithful was given to a foreigner. Yet this foreigner, through his personal merit and vast empire, was the greatest prince of his time. After settling Persia and Syria, he led countless armies to conquer Turkestan, a campaign initiated by his father. When crossing the Oxus River, the boatmen transporting some troops complained that their payment came from the revenues of Antioch. The sultan frowned at this ridiculous choice, but smiled at his vizier's clever flattery. "I didn’t choose those distant places to delay their reward; I wanted to leave a legacy for future generations, showing that under your reign, Antioch and the Oxus were ruled by the same sovereign." However, this description of his domain was unfair and stingy: beyond the Oxus, he brought the cities of Bukhara, Khwarezm, and Samarkand under his control, crushing every rebellious slave or independent savage who dared to resist. Malek crossed the Sihon or Jaxartes, the last border of Persian civilization: the hordes of Turkestan submitted to his authority; his name appeared on coins and in prayers in Kashgar, a Tartar kingdom on the far edges of China. From the Chinese frontier, he extended his direct control or feudal influence to the west and south, as far as the mountains of Georgia, near Constantinople, the holy city of Jerusalem, and the fragrant groves of Arabia Felix. Instead of indulging in the luxury of his harem, the shepherd king was active both in peace and war. By constantly moving his royal camp, each province was graced with his presence; and it is said he traveled through his vast dominions twelve times, which were larger than the reign of Cyrus and the caliphs. Among these campaigns, the most devout and magnificent was the pilgrimage to Mecca: his forces protected the freedom and safety of the caravans; the citizens and pilgrims prospered from his generosity; and the desert was brightened by the places of rest and refreshment he established for his fellow Muslims. Hunting was both a pleasure and passion for the sultan, and his entourage included forty-seven thousand horses; however, after a Turkish hunt massacre, he gave a piece of gold to the poor for each game he hunted—a small atonement, at the expense of the people, for the cost and trouble of royal leisure. During the peaceful prosperity of his reign, the cities of Asia were enhanced with palaces and hospitals, along with mosques and colleges; few left his court without a reward, and none without receiving justice. The language and literature of Persia flourished under the Seljuk dynasty; and while Malek imitated the generosity of a less powerful Turk, his palace might echo with the works of a hundred poets. The sultan took serious and scholarly interest in reforming the calendar, which was accomplished through a general assembly of astronomers from the East. According to Prophet Muhammad's law, Muslims follow the irregular cycle of lunar months; in Persia, dating back to Zoroaster’s time, the solar cycle had been recognized and celebrated as an annual festival; but after the downfall of the Magian empire, intercalation was neglected; the fractions of minutes and hours grew into days; and the date of spring was moved from the sign of Aries to that of Pisces. Malek's reign was marked by the Gelalan era; and all past or future errors were addressed by a time calculation that surpasses the Julian and nearly matches the accuracy of the Gregorian calendar.

In a period when Europe was plunged in the deepest barbarism, the light and splendor of Asia may be ascribed to the docility rather than the knowledge of the Turkish conquerors. An ample share of their wisdom and virtue is due to a Persian vizier, who ruled the empire under the reigns of Alp Arslan and his son. Nizam, one of the most illustrious ministers of the East, was honored by the caliph as an oracle of religion and science; he was trusted by the sultan as the faithful vicegerent of his power and justice. After an administration of thirty years, the fame of the vizier, his wealth, and even his services, were transformed into crimes. He was overthrown by the insidious arts of a woman and a rival; and his fall was hastened by a rash declaration, that his cap and ink-horn, the badges of his office, were connected by the divine decree with the throne and diadem of the sultan. At the age of ninety-three years, the venerable statesman was dismissed by his master, accused by his enemies, and murdered by a fanatic: the last words of Nizam attested his innocence, and the remainder of Malek's life was short and inglorious. From Ispahan, the scene of this disgraceful transaction, the sultan moved to Bagdad, with the design of transplanting the caliph, and of fixing his own residence in the capital of the Moslem world. The feeble successor of Mahomet obtained a respite of ten days; and before the expiration of the term, the Barbarian was summoned by the angel of death. His ambassadors at Constantinople had asked in marriage a Roman princess; but the proposal was decently eluded; and the daughter of Alexius, who might herself have been the victim, expresses her abhorrence of his unnatural conjunction. The daughter of the sultan was bestowed on the caliph Moctadi, with the imperious condition, that, renouncing the society of his wives and concubines, he should forever confine himself to this honorable alliance.

In a time when Europe was in its darkest age, the culture and sophistication of Asia can be attributed more to the submissiveness than the knowledge of the Turkish conquerors. Much of their wisdom and virtue can be credited to a Persian vizier who governed the empire during the reigns of Alp Arslan and his son. Nizam, one of the most prominent ministers in the East, was regarded by the caliph as a wise authority in both religion and science; he was trusted by the sultan as the loyal representative of his power and justice. After thirty years of administration, the vizier's fame, wealth, and contributions were twisted into offenses against him. He was brought down by the deceitful tactics of a woman and a rival; his downfall was accelerated by a reckless statement that his cap and ink-horn, symbols of his position, were divinely linked to the sultan's throne and crown. At ninety-three years old, the respected statesman was dismissed by his master, falsely accused by his enemies, and murdered by a zealot: Nizam’s last words confirmed his innocence, and the rest of Malek's life was brief and dishonorable. From Ispahan, the site of this disgraceful episode, the sultan moved to Baghdad, intending to relocate the caliph and establish his own residence in the capital of the Muslim world. The weak successor of Mahomet was granted a reprieve of ten days; and before this period ended, the Barbarian was called by death. His envoys in Constantinople had requested the hand of a Roman princess in marriage; however, she tactfully avoided the proposal, and the daughter of Alexius, who could have been a victim herself, expressed her disgust at this unnatural union. The daughter of the sultan was given to the caliph Moctadi, under the strict condition that he would renounce the company of his wives and concubines and remain committed to this honorable marriage.





Chapter LVII: The Turks.—Part III.

The greatness and unity of the Turkish empire expired in the person of Malek Shah. His vacant throne was disputed by his brother and his four sons; and, after a series of civil wars, the treaty which reconciled the surviving candidates confirmed a lasting separation in the Persia dynasty, the eldest and principal branch of the house of Seljuk. The three younger dynasties were those of Kerman, of Syria, and of Roum: the first of these commanded an extensive, though obscure, dominion on the shores of the Indian Ocean: the second expelled the Arabian princes of Aleppo and Damascus; and the third, our peculiar care, invaded the Roman provinces of Asia Minor. The generous policy of Malek contributed to their elevation: he allowed the princes of his blood, even those whom he had vanquished in the field, to seek new kingdoms worthy of their ambition; nor was he displeased that they should draw away the more ardent spirits, who might have disturbed the tranquillity of his reign. As the supreme head of his family and nation, the great sultan of Persia commanded the obedience and tribute of his royal brethren: the thrones of Kerman and Nice, of Aleppo and Damascus; the Atabeks, and emirs of Syria and Mesopotamia, erected their standards under the shadow of his sceptre: and the hordes of Turkmans overspread the plains of the Western Asia. After the death of Malek, the bands of union and subordination were relaxed and finally dissolved: the indulgence of the house of Seljuk invested their slaves with the inheritance of kingdoms; and, in the Oriental style, a crowd of princes arose from the dust of their feet.

The greatness and unity of the Turkish empire ended with Malek Shah. His empty throne was contested by his brother and his four sons. After a series of civil wars, the treaty that reconciled the remaining contenders confirmed a permanent split in the Persia dynasty, which was the oldest and main branch of the Seljuk family. The three younger dynasties were those of Kerman, Syria, and Roum: the first governed a vast but lesser-known territory along the Indian Ocean; the second drove out the Arabian princes of Aleppo and Damascus; and the third, which we focus on, invaded the Roman provinces of Asia Minor. Malek's generous policies helped their rise: he allowed his royal relatives, even those he had defeated in battle, to pursue new kingdoms worthy of their ambitions; he was not bothered if they attracted more ambitious individuals who could have threatened the peace of his reign. As the supreme leader of his family and nation, the great sultan of Persia commanded the loyalty and tribute of his royal relatives: the thrones of Kerman and Nice, Aleppo and Damascus, the Atabeks, and emirs of Syria and Mesopotamia raised their banners under his authority; and the hordes of Turkmens spread across the plains of Western Asia. After Malek's death, the bonds of unity and subordination weakened and eventually fell apart: the lenience of the Seljuk house allowed their followers to inherit kingdoms, and, in the typical Eastern manner, a multitude of princes emerged from the dust of their feet.

A prince of the royal line, Cutulmish, the son of Izrail, the son of Seljuk, had fallen in a battle against Alp Arslan and the humane victor had dropped a tear over his grave. His five sons, strong in arms, ambitious of power, and eager for revenge, unsheathed their cimeters against the son of Alp Arslan. The two armies expected the signal when the caliph, forgetful of the majesty which secluded him from vulgar eyes, interposed his venerable mediation. "Instead of shedding the blood of your brethren, your brethren both in descent and faith, unite your forces in a holy war against the Greeks, the enemies of God and his apostle." They listened to his voice; the sultan embraced his rebellious kinsmen; and the eldest, the valiant Soliman, accepted the royal standard, which gave him the free conquest and hereditary command of the provinces of the Roman empire, from Arzeroum to Constantinople, and the unknown regions of the West. Accompanied by his four brothers, he passed the Euphrates; the Turkish camp was soon seated in the neighborhood of Kutaieh in Phrygia; and his flying cavalry laid waste the country as far as the Hellespont and the Black Sea. Since the decline of the empire, the peninsula of Asia Minor had been exposed to the transient, though destructive, inroads of the Persians and Saracens; but the fruits of a lasting conquest were reserved for the Turkish sultan; and his arms were introduced by the Greeks, who aspired to reign on the ruins of their country. Since the captivity of Romanus, six years the feeble son of Eudocia had trembled under the weight of the Imperial crown, till the provinces of the East and West were lost in the same month by a double rebellion: of either chief Nicephorus was the common name; but the surnames of Bryennius and Botoniates distinguish the European and Asiatic candidates. Their reasons, or rather their promises, were weighed in the Divan; and, after some hesitation, Soliman declared himself in favor of Botoniates, opened a free passage to his troops in their march from Antioch to Nice, and joined the banner of the Crescent to that of the Cross. After his ally had ascended the throne of Constantinople, the sultan was hospitably entertained in the suburb of Chrysopolis or Scutari; and a body of two thousand Turks was transported into Europe, to whose dexterity and courage the new emperor was indebted for the defeat and captivity of his rival, Bryennius. But the conquest of Europe was dearly purchased by the sacrifice of Asia: Constantinople was deprived of the obedience and revenue of the provinces beyond the Bosphorus and Hellespont; and the regular progress of the Turks, who fortified the passes of the rivers and mountains, left not a hope of their retreat or expulsion. Another candidate implored the aid of the sultan: Melissenus, in his purple robes and red buskins, attended the motions of the Turkish camp; and the desponding cities were tempted by the summons of a Roman prince, who immediately surrendered them into the hands of the Barbarians. These acquisitions were confirmed by a treaty of peace with the emperor Alexius: his fear of Robert compelled him to seek the friendship of Soliman; and it was not till after the sultan's death that he extended as far as Nicomedia, about sixty miles from Constantinople, the eastern boundary of the Roman world. Trebizond alone, defended on either side by the sea and mountains, preserved at the extremity of the Euxine the ancient character of a Greek colony, and the future destiny of a Christian empire.

A prince of royal blood, Cutulmish, son of Izrail, son of Seljuk, was defeated in battle by Alp Arslan, who, despite being the victor, shed a tear at his grave. Cutulmish's five sons, strong fighters, power-hungry, and eager for vengeance, unsheathed their swords against Alp Arslan's son. Both armies awaited the signal to engage when the caliph, momentarily forgetting his elevated status that kept him from common view, stepped in with his wise intervention. "Instead of spilling the blood of your own kin, who share both your lineage and faith, unite your forces for a holy war against the Greeks, the enemies of God and His messenger." They heeded his words; the sultan embraced his rebellious relatives, and the oldest, brave Soliman, accepted the royal banner, granting him the right to conquer and govern the provinces of the Roman Empire, from Arzeroum to Constantinople, and the unknown lands to the west. Accompanied by his four brothers, he crossed the Euphrates; the Turkish camp quickly settled near Kutaieh in Phrygia, and their swift cavalry ravaged the region all the way to the Hellespont and the Black Sea. Since the decline of the empire, Asia Minor had faced the passing but devastating incursions of the Persians and Saracens; however, lasting conquest was destined for the Turkish sultan, facilitated by the Greeks who aimed to rule over the remnants of their nation. Following the capture of Romanus, the weak son of Eudocia had endured six years under the burdens of the Imperial crown, until both the Eastern and Western provinces were lost in the same month due to a dual rebellion. The common name for either leader was Nicephorus, yet the titles Bryennius and Botoniates distinguished the European and Asian claimants. Their arguments, or rather their promises, were deliberated in the Divan; after some deliberation, Soliman sided with Botoniates, opened a clear passage for his troops moving from Antioch to Nice, and allied the Crescent with the Cross. After Botoniates ascended the throne of Constantinople, the sultan was warmly welcomed in the suburb of Chrysopolis or Scutari; a force of two thousand Turks was transported into Europe, whose skills and bravery enabled the new emperor to defeat and capture his rival, Bryennius. However, the European conquest came at a significant cost in Asia: Constantinople lost the loyalty and revenues of the provinces across the Bosphorus and Hellespont; the steady advance of the Turks, who fortified the river and mountain passes, extinguished any hope of retreat or expulsion. Another contender sought the sultan's support: Melissenus, wearing his royal robes and red boots, kept close watch on the Turkish camp, leading the despairing cities to yield to a Roman prince who promptly surrendered them to the invaders. These gains were solidified through a peace treaty with Emperor Alexius: his fear of Robert urged him to seek Soliman's alliance; it wasn't until after the sultan's death that he expanded the eastern edge of the Roman world as far as Nicomedia, about sixty miles from Constantinople. Only Trebizond, nestled between the sea and mountains, maintained the ancient essence of a Greek colony and the future of a Christian empire at the far end of the Euxine.

Since the first conquests of the caliphs, the establishment of the Turks in Anatolia or Asia Minor was the most deplorable loss which the church and empire had sustained. By the propagation of the Moslem faith, Soliman deserved the name of Gazi, a holy champion; and his new kingdoms, of the Romans, or of Roum, was added to the tables of Oriental geography. It is described as extending from the Euphrates to Constantinople, from the Black Sea to the confines of Syria; pregnant with mines of silver and iron, of alum and copper, fruitful in corn and wine, and productive of cattle and excellent horses. The wealth of Lydia, the arts of the Greeks, the splendor of the Augustan age, existed only in books and ruins, which were equally obscure in the eyes of the Scythian conquerors. Yet, in the present decay, Anatolia still contains some wealthy and populous cities; and, under the Byzantine empire, they were far more flourishing in numbers, size, and opulence. By the choice of the sultan, Nice, the metropolis of Bithynia, was preferred for his palace and fortress: the seat of the Seljukian dynasty of Roum was planted one hundred miles from Constantinople; and the divinity of Christ was denied and derided in the same temple in which it had been pronounced by the first general synod of the Catholics. The unity of God, and the mission of Mahomet, were preached in the moschs; the Arabian learning was taught in the schools; the Cadhis judged according to the law of the Koran; the Turkish manners and language prevailed in the cities; and Turkman camps were scattered over the plains and mountains of Anatolia. On the hard conditions of tribute and servitude, the Greek Christians might enjoy the exercise of their religion; but their most holy churches were profaned; their priests and bishops were insulted; they were compelled to suffer the triumph of the Pagans, and the apostasy of their brethren; many thousand children were marked by the knife of circumcision; and many thousand captives were devoted to the service or the pleasures of their masters. After the loss of Asia, Antioch still maintained her primitive allegiance to Christ and Cæsar; but the solitary province was separated from all Roman aid, and surrounded on all sides by the Mahometan powers. The despair of Philaretus the governor prepared the sacrifice of his religion and loyalty, had not his guilt been prevented by his son, who hastened to the Nicene palace, and offered to deliver this valuable prize into the hands of Soliman. The ambitious sultan mounted on horseback, and in twelve nights (for he reposed in the day) performed a march of six hundred miles. Antioch was oppressed by the speed and secrecy of his enterprise; and the dependent cities, as far as Laodicea and the confines of Aleppo, obeyed the example of the metropolis. From Laodicea to the Thracian Bosphorus, or arm of St. George, the conquests and reign of Soliman extended thirty days' journey in length, and in breadth about ten or fifteen, between the rocks of Lycia and the Black Sea. The Turkish ignorance of navigation protected, for a while, the inglorious safety of the emperor; but no sooner had a fleet of two hundred ships been constructed by the hands of the captive Greeks, than Alexius trembled behind the walls of his capital. His plaintive epistles were dispersed over Europe, to excite the compassion of the Latins, and to paint the danger, the weakness, and the riches of the city of Constantine.

Since the first conquests of the caliphs, the Turks' establishment in Anatolia, or Asia Minor, was the most unfortunate loss the church and empire had faced. By spreading the Muslim faith, Soliman earned the title of Gazi, a holy warrior, and his new kingdoms, of the Romans, or Roum, were added to the maps of Eastern geography. It stretched from the Euphrates to Constantinople, from the Black Sea to the borders of Syria; rich in silver and iron mines, alum and copper, fertile in grain and wine, and producing livestock and excellent horses. The wealth of Lydia, the arts of the Greeks, and the grandeur of the Augustan age only existed in books and ruins, which were equally unknown to the Scythian conquerors. Yet, even in its decline, Anatolia still holds some wealthy and populous cities; and during the Byzantine empire, they flourished much more in numbers, size, and wealth. The sultan chose Nice, the capital of Bithynia, for his palace and fortress: the Seljukian dynasty's seat of Roum was established a hundred miles from Constantinople; and the divinity of Christ was denied and mocked in the same temple where it had been affirmed by the first general synod of the Catholics. The oneness of God and the mission of Muhammad were preached in the mosques; Arabian knowledge was taught in the schools; the Cadhis ruled according to the Koran; Turkish customs and language dominated the cities; and Turkman camps were scattered across the plains and mountains of Anatolia. On the tough conditions of tribute and servitude, Greek Christians could practice their religion; but their holiest churches were desecrated; their priests and bishops were insulted; they had to endure the triumph of the Pagans and the betrayal of their fellow believers; many thousands of children were circumcised; and many thousands of captives were forced into the service or pleasures of their masters. After losing Asia, Antioch still held on to its original loyalty to Christ and Caesar; however, this isolated province was cut off from all Roman help and surrounded by Muslim powers. The despair of Philaretus, the governor, nearly led to the sacrifice of his faith and loyalty, if not for his son, who hurried to the Nicene palace, offering to hand over this valuable prize to Soliman. The ambitious sultan mounted his horse and, over twelve nights (as he rested during the day), covered a distance of six hundred miles. Antioch was caught off guard by the speed and secrecy of his plan; the dependent cities, as far as Laodicea and the borders of Aleppo, followed the example of the capital. From Laodicea to the Thracian Bosphorus, or St. George's arm, Soliman's conquests and reign spanned thirty days' journey in length and about ten to fifteen in breadth, between the cliffs of Lycia and the Black Sea. The Turks' lack of naval knowledge temporarily ensured the emperor's unheroic safety, but once a fleet of two hundred ships was built by Greek captives, Alexius shook in fear behind the walls of his capital. His sorrowful letters spread across Europe to stir the compassion of the Latins and to illustrate the danger, weakness, and wealth of the city of Constantine.

But the most interesting conquest of the Seljukian Turks was that of Jerusalem, which soon became the theatre of nations. In their capitulation with Omar, the inhabitants had stipulated the assurance of their religion and property; but the articles were interpreted by a master against whom it was dangerous to dispute; and in the four hundred years of the reign of the caliphs, the political climate of Jerusalem was exposed to the vicissitudes of storm and sunshine. By the increase of proselytes and population, the Mahometans might excuse the usurpation of three fourths of the city: but a peculiar quarter was resolved for the patriarch with his clergy and people; a tribute of two pieces of gold was the price of protection; and the sepulchre of Christ, with the church of the Resurrection, was still left in the hands of his votaries. Of these votaries, the most numerous and respectable portion were strangers to Jerusalem: the pilgrimages to the Holy Land had been stimulated, rather than suppressed, by the conquest of the Arabs; and the enthusiasm which had always prompted these perilous journeys, was nourished by the congenial passions of grief and indignation. A crowd of pilgrims from the East and West continued to visit the holy sepulchre, and the adjacent sanctuaries, more especially at the festival of Easter; and the Greeks and Latins, the Nestorians and Jacobites, the Copts and Abyssinians, the Armenians and Georgians, maintained the chapels, the clergy, and the poor of their respective communions. The harmony of prayer in so many various tongues, the worship of so many nations in the common temple of their religion, might have afforded a spectacle of edification and peace; but the zeal of the Christian sects was imbittered by hatred and revenge; and in the kingdom of a suffering Messiah, who had pardoned his enemies, they aspired to command and persecute their spiritual brethren. The preëminence was asserted by the spirit and numbers of the Franks; and the greatness of Charlemagne protected both the Latin pilgrims and the Catholics of the East. The poverty of Carthage, Alexandria, and Jerusalem, was relieved by the alms of that pious emperor; and many monasteries of Palestine were founded or restored by his liberal devotion. Harun Alrashid, the greatest of the Abbassides, esteemed in his Christian brother a similar supremacy of genius and power: their friendship was cemented by a frequent intercourse of gifts and embassies; and the caliph, without resigning the substantial dominion, presented the emperor with the keys of the holy sepulchre, and perhaps of the city of Jerusalem. In the decline of the Carlovingian monarchy, the republic of Amalphi promoted the interest of trade and religion in the East. Her vessels transported the Latin pilgrims to the coasts of Egypt and Palestine, and deserved, by their useful imports, the favor and alliance of the Fatimite caliphs: an annual fair was instituted on Mount Calvary: and the Italian merchants founded the convent and hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, the cradle of the monastic and military order, which has since reigned in the isles of Rhodes and of Malta. Had the Christian pilgrims been content to revere the tomb of a prophet, the disciples of Mahomet, instead of blaming, would have imitated, their piety: but these rigid Unitarians were scandalized by a worship which represents the birth, death, and resurrection, of a God; the Catholic images were branded with the name of idols; and the Moslems smiled with indignation at the miraculous flame which was kindled on the eve of Easter in the holy sepulchre. This pious fraud, first devised in the ninth century, was devoutly cherished by the Latin crusaders, and is annually repeated by the clergy of the Greek, Armenian, and Coptic sects, who impose on the credulous spectators for their own benefit, and that of their tyrants. In every age, a principle of toleration has been fortified by a sense of interest: and the revenue of the prince and his emir was increased each year, by the expense and tribute of so many thousand strangers.

But the most interesting conquest of the Seljuk Turks was Jerusalem, which soon became a stage for nations. In their agreement with Omar, the residents had secured the protection of their faith and property; however, these terms were interpreted by an authority that it was risky to challenge. Over the four hundred years of caliph rule, the political situation in Jerusalem faced the ups and downs of fortune. As the number of converts and the population grew, Muslims might justify taking over three-quarters of the city; however, a specific district was set aside for the patriarch, his clergy, and his community. A tribute of two gold coins was the fee for protection, and the tomb of Christ, along with the Church of the Resurrection, remained in the hands of his followers. Among these followers, the largest and most respected group were outsiders to Jerusalem; the Arab conquest had actually encouraged pilgrimages to the Holy Land rather than suppressed them, and the passion that had always driven these dangerous journeys was fueled by feelings of sorrow and outrage. A crowd of pilgrims from both the East and West continued to visit the holy tomb and nearby sacred sites, especially during Easter. Greeks and Latins, Nestorians and Jacobites, Copts and Abyssinians, Armenians and Georgians maintained their respective chapels, clergy, and the poor. The unity of prayer in such diverse languages, the worship of many nations in their shared place of faith, could have been a beautiful scene of edification and peace; yet, the fervor of the Christian sects was tainted by hatred and vengeance. In the realm of a suffering Messiah who forgave his enemies, they sought to dominate and persecute their spiritual brothers. The Franks claimed superiority in spirit and numbers, and Charlemagne's greatness protected both Latin pilgrims and Eastern Catholics. The poverty of Carthage, Alexandria, and Jerusalem was eased by the donations of that devout emperor, and many monasteries in Palestine were established or restored through his generous support. Harun al-Rashid, the most prominent Abbasid, recognized a similar dominance of intellect and strength in his Christian counterpart; their friendship was strengthened through a constant exchange of gifts and diplomatic missions. The caliph, without giving up real authority, gifted the emperor the keys to the holy tomb and possibly to the city of Jerusalem. As the Carolingian monarchy weakened, the Republic of Amalfi advanced trade and religion in the East. Its ships carried Latin pilgrims to the shores of Egypt and Palestine and earned the favor and alliance of the Fatimid caliphs through valuable imports. An annual fair was established on Mount Calvary, and Italian merchants founded the convent and hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, the birthplace of the monastic and military order that would later dominate the islands of Rhodes and Malta. If the Christian pilgrims had only desired to honor the tomb of a prophet, the followers of Muhammad would have admired, rather than criticized, their devotion. However, these strict Unitarians were appalled by a worship that depicted the birth, death, and resurrection of a God; Catholic images were labeled as idols, and Muslims looked on with indignation at the miraculous flame that ignited on the eve of Easter in the holy tomb. This pious deception, initially conceived in the ninth century, was faithfully upheld by the Latin crusaders and is performed each year by the clergy of the Greek, Armenian, and Coptic sects, who deceive gullible spectators for their own advantage and that of their oppressors. Throughout history, a principle of tolerance has been reinforced by the notion of self-interest, and the annual revenue of the prince and his emir grew with the expenses and tributes of countless visitors.

The revolution which transferred the sceptre from the Abbassides to the Fatimites was a benefit, rather than an injury, to the Holy Land. A sovereign resident in Egypt was more sensible of the importance of Christian trade; and the emirs of Palestine were less remote from the justice and power of the throne. But the third of these Fatimite caliphs was the famous Hakem, a frantic youth, who was delivered by his impiety and despotism from the fear either of God or man; and whose reign was a wild mixture of vice and folly. Regardless of the most ancient customs of Egypt, he imposed on the women an absolute confinement; the restraint excited the clamors of both sexes; their clamors provoked his fury; a part of Old Cairo was delivered to the flames and the guards and citizens were engaged many days in a bloody conflict. At first the caliph declared himself a zealous Mussulman, the founder or benefactor of moschs and colleges: twelve hundred and ninety copies of the Koran were transcribed at his expense in letters of gold; and his edict extirpated the vineyards of the Upper Egypt. But his vanity was soon flattered by the hope of introducing a new religion; he aspired above the fame of a prophet, and styled himself the visible image of the Most High God, who, after nine apparitions on earth, was at length manifest in his royal person. At the name of Hakem, the lord of the living and the dead, every knee was bent in religious adoration: his mysteries were performed on a mountain near Cairo: sixteen thousand converts had signed his profession of faith; and at the present hour, a free and warlike people, the Druses of Mount Libanus, are persuaded of the life and divinity of a madman and tyrant. In his divine character, Hakem hated the Jews and Christians, as the servants of his rivals; while some remains of prejudice or prudence still pleaded in favor of the law of Mahomet. Both in Egypt and Palestine, his cruel and wanton persecution made some martyrs and many apostles: the common rights and special privileges of the sectaries were equally disregarded; and a general interdict was laid on the devotion of strangers and natives. The temple of the Christian world, the church of the Resurrection, was demolished to its foundations; the luminous prodigy of Easter was interrupted, and much profane labor was exhausted to destroy the cave in the rock which properly constitutes the holy sepulchre. At the report of this sacrilege, the nations of Europe were astonished and afflicted: but instead of arming in the defence of the Holy Land, they contented themselves with burning, or banishing, the Jews, as the secret advisers of the impious Barbarian. Yet the calamities of Jerusalem were in some measure alleviated by the inconstancy or repentance of Hakem himself; and the royal mandate was sealed for the restitution of the churches, when the tyrant was assassinated by the emissaries of his sister. The succeeding caliphs resumed the maxims of religion and policy: a free toleration was again granted; with the pious aid of the emperor of Constantinople, the holy sepulchre arose from its ruins; and, after a short abstinence, the pilgrims returned with an increase of appetite to the spiritual feast. In the sea-voyage of Palestine, the dangers were frequent, and the opportunities rare: but the conversion of Hungary opened a safe communication between Germany and Greece. The charity of St. Stephen, the apostle of his kingdom, relieved and conducted his itinerant brethren; and from Belgrade to Antioch, they traversed fifteen hundred miles of a Christian empire. Among the Franks, the zeal of pilgrimage prevailed beyond the example of former times: and the roads were covered with multitudes of either sex, and of every rank, who professed their contempt of life, so soon as they should have kissed the tomb of their Redeemer. Princes and prelates abandoned the care of their dominions; and the numbers of these pious caravans were a prelude to the armies which marched in the ensuing age under the banner of the cross. About thirty years before the first crusade, the arch bishop of Mentz, with the bishops of Utrecht, Bamberg, and Ratisbon, undertook this laborious journey from the Rhine to the Jordan; and the multitude of their followers amounted to seven thousand persons. At Constantinople, they were hospitably entertained by the emperor; but the ostentation of their wealth provoked the assault of the wild Arabs: they drew their swords with scrupulous reluctance, and sustained siege in the village of Capernaum, till they were rescued by the venal protection of the Fatimite emir. After visiting the holy places, they embarked for Italy, but only a remnant of two thousand arrived in safety in their native land. Ingulphus, a secretary of William the Conqueror, was a companion of this pilgrimage: he observes that they sailed from Normandy, thirty stout and well-appointed horsemen; but that they repassed the Alps, twenty miserable palmers, with the staff in their hand, and the wallet at their back.

The revolution that shifted power from the Abbassides to the Fatimites was more of a benefit than a harm to the Holy Land. A ruler based in Egypt understood the significance of Christian trade better, and the local leaders in Palestine were closer to the authority and justice of the throne. However, the third of these Fatimite caliphs was the notorious Hakem, a reckless young man who, due to his impiety and tyranny, feared neither God nor man. His rule was a chaotic mix of vice and folly. Disregarding Egypt’s ancient customs, he imposed strict confinement on women, which led to outcries from both men and women; their protests only fueled his anger, resulting in parts of Old Cairo being set ablaze and bloody clashes between guards and citizens lasting for days. Initially, the caliph presented himself as a devoted Muslim, establishing mosques and schools. He had twelve hundred and ninety copies of the Koran handwritten in gold letters and issued an edict that wiped out the vineyards of Upper Egypt. But his vanity quickly grew as he aimed to promote a new religion, aspiring to be more than a prophet and referring to himself as the visible image of the Most High God, who, after nine appearances on earth, was finally revealed in his royal person. At the mention of Hakem, the lord of the living and the dead, everyone bowed in religious reverence; his mysteries were performed on a mountain near Cairo, and sixteen thousand people had converted to his beliefs. Even now, a free and warlike group, the Druses of Mount Libanus, believe in the life and divinity of this madman and tyrant. In his self-styled divine role, Hakem despised Jews and Christians for being followers of his rivals, although some remnants of prejudice or prudence still respected the laws of Muhammad. His cruel and reckless persecution in both Egypt and Palestine created martyrs and many followers; the basic rights and special privileges of various sects were ignored, and a general ban was placed on the worship practices of both foreigners and locals. The great Christian church, the Church of the Resurrection, was torn down to its foundations; the brilliant celebration of Easter was disrupted, and significant labor went into destroying the cave in the rock that contains the holy sepulchre. When news of this sacrilege spread, Europe was shocked and saddened; instead of uniting to protect the Holy Land, they instead targeted Jews, burning or exiling them as supposed accomplices of the godless Barbarian. However, some relief for Jerusalem came from Hakem's own unpredictability or regret; he issued a royal order to restore the churches shortly before he was assassinated by agents sent by his sister. The following caliphs reverted to traditional religious and political practices, granting toleration once more; with help from the emperor of Constantinople, the holy sepulchre was rebuilt, and after a brief period of abstaining, pilgrims eagerly returned for their spiritual journeys. Traveling by sea to Palestine was fraught with danger and scarce opportunities, but the conversion of Hungary created a safe route between Germany and Greece. St. Stephen, the apostle of Hungary, supported and guided his traveling companions; they journeyed fifteen hundred miles through a Christian empire from Belgrade to Antioch. Among the Franks, enthusiasm for pilgrimage surpassed previous levels; the roads became crowded with countless men and women of all ranks who disregarded their lives to visit the tomb of their Redeemer. Princes and bishops neglected their responsibilities for the sake of pilgrimage, and the size of these pious caravans hinted at the armies that would march under the cross in the following era. About thirty years before the First Crusade, the archbishop of Mentz, along with bishops from Utrecht, Bamberg, and Ratisbon, embarked on the difficult journey from the Rhine to the Jordan, leading a following of seven thousand people. In Constantinople, they were warmly welcomed by the emperor, but their display of wealth prompted attacks from aggressive Arabs. They hesitated to draw swords but ultimately took a stand in the village of Capernaum until they were rescued by the corrupt protection of the Fatimite emir. After visiting the holy sites, they set sail for Italy, but only two thousand made it safely back home. Ingulphus, a secretary to William the Conqueror, joined this pilgrimage and noted that they originally set out from Normandy with thirty strong horsemen but returned over the Alps as twenty poor pilgrims, with just a staff in hand and a pack on their back.

After the defeat of the Romans, the tranquillity of the Fatimite caliphs was invaded by the Turks. One of the lieutenants of Malek Shah, Atsiz the Carizmian, marched into Syria at the head of a powerful army, and reduced Damascus by famine and the sword. Hems, and the other cities of the province, acknowledged the caliph of Bagdad and the sultan of Persia; and the victorious emir advanced without resistance to the banks of the Nile: the Fatimite was preparing to fly into the heart of Africa; but the negroes of his guard and the inhabitants of Cairo made a desperate sally, and repulsed the Turk from the confines of Egypt. In his retreat he indulged the license of slaughter and rapine: the judge and notaries of Jerusalem were invited to his camp; and their execution was followed by the massacre of three thousand citizens. The cruelty or the defeat of Atsiz was soon punished by the sultan Toucush, the brother of Malek Shah, who, with a higher title and more formidable powers, asserted the dominion of Syria and Palestine. The house of Seljuk reigned about twenty years in Jerusalem; but the hereditary command of the holy city and territory was intrusted or abandoned to the emir Ortok, the chief of a tribe of Turkmans, whose children, after their expulsion from Palestine, formed two dynasties on the borders of Armenia and Assyria. The Oriental Christians and the Latin pilgrims deplored a revolution, which, instead of the regular government and old alliance of the caliphs, imposed on their necks the iron yoke of the strangers of the North. In his court and camp the great sultan had adopted in some degree the arts and manners of Persia; but the body of the Turkish nation, and more especially the pastoral tribes, still breathed the fierceness of the desert. From Nice to Jerusalem, the western countries of Asia were a scene of foreign and domestic hostility; and the shepherds of Palestine, who held a precarious sway on a doubtful frontier, had neither leisure nor capacity to await the slow profits of commercial and religious freedom. The pilgrims, who, through innumerable perils, had reached the gates of Jerusalem, were the victims of private rapine or public oppression, and often sunk under the pressure of famine and disease, before they were permitted to salute the holy sepulchre. A spirit of native barbarism, or recent zeal, prompted the Turkmans to insult the clergy of every sect: the patriarch was dragged by the hair along the pavement, and cast into a dungeon, to extort a ransom from the sympathy of his flock; and the divine worship in the church of the Resurrection was often disturbed by the savage rudeness of its masters. The pathetic tale excited the millions of the West to march under the standard of the cross to the relief of the Holy Land; and yet how trifling is the sum of these accumulated evils, if compared with the single act of the sacrilege of Hakem, which had been so patiently endured by the Latin Christians! A slighter provocation inflamed the more irascible temper of their descendants: a new spirit had arisen of religious chivalry and papal dominion; a nerve was touched of exquisite feeling; and the sensation vibrated to the heart of Europe.

After the Romans were defeated, the calm of the Fatimid caliphs was disrupted by the Turks. One of Malek Shah's lieutenants, Atsiz the Carizmian, marched into Syria with a powerful army and conquered Damascus through famine and violence. Hems and other cities in the region recognized the caliph of Baghdad and the sultan of Persia; the victorious emir advanced without resistance to the banks of the Nile. The Fatimid was getting ready to flee deep into Africa, but the men of his guard and the people of Cairo launched a desperate counterattack and pushed the Turk back from Egypt's borders. In his retreat, he unleashed slaughter and looting: the judge and notaries of Jerusalem were summoned to his camp, and their execution was followed by the massacre of three thousand citizens. Atsiz's cruelty or defeat did not go unpunished, as Sultan Toucush, Malek Shah's brother, asserted control over Syria and Palestine with a stronger title and greater power. The Seljuk house ruled Jerusalem for about twenty years, but the authority over the holy city and territory was either handed over or abandoned to Emir Ortok, the leader of a Turkmen tribe whose descendants, after being expelled from Palestine, established two dynasties on the borders of Armenia and Assyria. Oriental Christians and Latin pilgrims mourned this upheaval, which replaced the established governance and old alliances of the caliphs with the harsh control of northern foreigners. In his court and camp, the great sultan had partially adopted the arts and customs of Persia; however, the main body of the Turkish nation, especially the pastoral tribes, still exhibited the ferocity of the desert. From Nice to Jerusalem, western Asia was a battleground of foreign and domestic conflicts, and the shepherds of Palestine, who held a fragile grip on their uncertain borders, had neither the time nor the resources to wait for the slow gains of economic and religious freedom. The pilgrims who endured countless dangers to reach Jerusalem’s gates often fell victim to individual theft or official oppression and frequently succumbed to hunger and disease before they could pay their respects at the holy sepulchre. A spirit of native barbarism or newfound zeal drove the Turkmens to insult the clergy of all sects: the patriarch was dragged by his hair along the pavement and thrown into a dungeon to extort a ransom from the sympathy of his flock, and worship in the Church of the Resurrection was frequently disrupted by the brutal behavior of its rulers. This heart-wrenching story inspired millions in the West to rally under the cross to aid the Holy Land; yet, when compared to the single act of sacrilege by Hakem, which Latin Christians had endured with such patience, these many evils seem minor. A slight provocation ignited the more volatile nature of their descendants: a new spirit of religious chivalry and papal authority had emerged; a sensitive nerve was touched, and the feeling resonated throughout Europe.





Chapter LVIII: The First Crusade.—Part I.

     Origin And Numbers Of The First Crusade.—Characters Of The
     Latin Princes.—Their March To Constantinople.—Policy Of
     The Greek Emperor Alexius.—Conquest Of Nice, Antioch, And
     Jerusalem, By The Franks.—Deliverance Of The Holy
     Sepulchre.—Godfrey Of Bouillon, First King Of Jerusalem.—
     Institutions Of The French Or Latin Kingdom.
     Origin and Numbers of the First Crusade.—Characteristics of the Latin Princes.—Their Journey to Constantinople.—The Strategy of the Greek Emperor Alexius.—Conquest of Nicaea, Antioch, and Jerusalem by the Franks.—Liberation of the Holy Sepulchre.—Godfrey of Bouillon, the First King of Jerusalem.—Establishment of the French or Latin Kingdom.

About twenty years after the conquest of Jerusalem by the Turks, the holy sepulchre was visited by a hermit of the name of Peter, a native of Amiens, in the province of Picardy in France. His resentment and sympathy were excited by his own injuries and the oppression of the Christian name; he mingled his tears with those of the patriarch, and earnestly inquired, if no hopes of relief could be entertained from the Greek emperors of the East. The patriarch exposed the vices and weakness of the successors of Constantine. "I will rouse," exclaimed the hermit, "the martial nations of Europe in your cause;" and Europe was obedient to the call of the hermit. The astonished patriarch dismissed him with epistles of credit and complaint; and no sooner did he land at Bari, than Peter hastened to kiss the feet of the Roman pontiff. His stature was small, his appearance contemptible; but his eye was keen and lively; and he possessed that vehemence of speech, which seldom fails to impart the persuasion of the soul. He was born of a gentleman's family, (for we must now adopt a modern idiom,) and his military service was under the neighboring counts of Boulogne, the heroes of the first crusade. But he soon relinquished the sword and the world; and if it be true, that his wife, however noble, was aged and ugly, he might withdraw, with the less reluctance, from her bed to a convent, and at length to a hermitage. * In this austere solitude, his body was emaciated, his fancy was inflamed; whatever he wished, he believed; whatever he believed, he saw in dreams and revelations. From Jerusalem the pilgrim returned an accomplished fanatic; but as he excelled in the popular madness of the times, Pope Urban the Second received him as a prophet, applauded his glorious design, promised to support it in a general council, and encouraged him to proclaim the deliverance of the Holy Land. Invigorated by the approbation of the pontiff, his zealous missionary traversed. with speed and success, the provinces of Italy and France. His diet was abstemious, his prayers long and fervent, and the alms which he received with one hand, he distributed with the other: his head was bare, his feet naked, his meagre body was wrapped in a coarse garment; he bore and displayed a weighty crucifix; and the ass on which he rode was sanctified, in the public eye, by the service of the man of God. He preached to innumerable crowds in the churches, the streets, and the highways: the hermit entered with equal confidence the palace and the cottage; and the people (for all was people) was impetuously moved by his call to repentance and arms. When he painted the sufferings of the natives and pilgrims of Palestine, every heart was melted to compassion; every breast glowed with indignation, when he challenged the warriors of the age to defend their brethren, and rescue their Savior: his ignorance of art and language was compensated by sighs, and tears, and ejaculations; and Peter supplied the deficiency of reason by loud and frequent appeals to Christ and his mother, to the saints and angels of paradise, with whom he had personally conversed. The most perfect orator of Athens might have envied the success of his eloquence; the rustic enthusiast inspired the passions which he felt, and Christendom expected with impatience the counsels and decrees of the supreme pontiff.

About twenty years after the Turks conquered Jerusalem, a hermit named Peter, a native of Amiens in Picardy, France, visited the holy sepulchre. His own injuries and the oppression of Christianity stirred his anger and compassion; he shed tears alongside the patriarch and eagerly asked if there was any hope for relief from the Greek emperors of the East. The patriarch talked about the flaws and weaknesses of Constantine’s successors. "I will rally," exclaimed the hermit, "the warring nations of Europe to help you;" and Europe responded to the hermit’s call. The shocked patriarch sent him off with letters of recommendation and complaints; as soon as Peter landed in Bari, he rushed to kiss the feet of the Roman pontiff. He was short and looked unimpressive, but his eyes were lively and sharp; he had a passionate way of speaking that rarely failed to convey the intensity of his spirit. He came from a gentleman's family (to use modern language) and served as a soldier under the local counts of Boulogne, the heroes of the first crusade. But he soon put aside his sword and worldly life; if it’s true that his wife, though noble, was old and unattractive, he may have felt less hesitation in leaving her to join a convent, and eventually a hermitage. In this strict solitude, his body became emaciated, and his mind became fiery; he believed whatever he wished, and whatever he believed appeared to him in dreams and visions. The pilgrim returned from Jerusalem as an accomplished fanatic; since he excelled in the popular fervor of the time, Pope Urban the Second welcomed him as a prophet, praised his noble mission, promised to back it in a general council, and encouraged him to announce the liberation of the Holy Land. Energized by the pope's support, the zealous missionary quickly and successfully traveled through Italy and France. He lived simply, prayed long and fervently, and distributed the alms he received; he was barefoot, wore a coarse garment, carried a heavy crucifix, and the donkey he rode was considered holy because it belonged to a man of God. He preached to huge crowds in churches, streets, and highways; the hermit approached both palaces and cottages with equal confidence, and the people (and there were many) were powerfully moved by his call to repent and to fight. When he described the suffering of the locals and pilgrims in Palestine, it melted every heart; every chest filled with anger when he urged the warriors of the time to defend their brothers and save their Savior. His lack of artistic skill and eloquence was made up for by his tears, sighs, and urgent prayers; Peter made up for any lack of reasoning with loud and frequent appeals to Christ and his mother, as well as to the saints and angels in Paradise, whom he claimed to have spoken with personally. The most skilled orator from Athens might have envied his success; the passionate enthusiast stirred the emotions he felt, and all of Christendom eagerly awaited the advice and decisions of the pope.

The magnanimous spirit of Gregory the Seventh had already embraced the design of arming Europe against Asia; the ardor of his zeal and ambition still breathes in his epistles: from either side of the Alps, fifty thousand Catholics had enlisted under the banner of St. Peter; and his successor reveals his intention of marching at their head against the impious sectaries of Mahomet. But the glory or reproach of executing, though not in person, this holy enterprise, was reserved for Urban the Second, the most faithful of his disciples. He undertook the conquest of the East, whilst the larger portion of Rome was possessed and fortified by his rival Guibert of Ravenna, who contended with Urban for the name and honors of the pontificate. He attempted to unite the powers of the West, at a time when the princes were separated from the church, and the people from their princes, by the excommunication which himself and his predecessors had thundered against the emperor and the king of France. Philip the First, of France, supported with patience the censures which he had provoked by his scandalous life and adulterous marriage. Henry the Fourth, of Germany, asserted the right of investitures, the prerogative of confirming his bishops by the delivery of the ring and crosier. But the emperor's party was crushed in Italy by the arms of the Normans and the Countess Mathilda; and the long quarrel had been recently envenomed by the revolt of his son Conrad and the shame of his wife, who, in the synods of Constance and Placentia, confessed the manifold prostitutions to which she had been exposed by a husband regardless of her honor and his own. So popular was the cause of Urban, so weighty was his influence, that the council which he summoned at Placentia was composed of two hundred bishops of Italy, France, Burgandy, Swabia, and Bavaria. Four thousand of the clergy, and thirty thousand of the laity, attended this important meeting; and, as the most spacious cathedral would have been inadequate to the multitude, the session of seven days was held in a plain adjacent to the city. The ambassadors of the Greek emperor, Alexius Comnenus, were introduced to plead the distress of their sovereign, and the danger of Constantinople, which was divided only by a narrow sea from the victorious Turks, the common enemies of the Christian name. In their suppliant address they flattered the pride of the Latin princes; and, appealing at once to their policy and religion, exhorted them to repel the Barbarians on the confines of Asia, rather than to expect them in the heart of Europe. At the sad tale of the misery and perils of their Eastern brethren, the assembly burst into tears; the most eager champions declared their readiness to march; and the Greek ambassadors were dismissed with the assurance of a speedy and powerful succor. The relief of Constantinople was included in the larger and most distant project of the deliverance of Jerusalem; but the prudent Urban adjourned the final decision to a second synod, which he proposed to celebrate in some city of France in the autumn of the same year. The short delay would propagate the flame of enthusiasm; and his firmest hope was in a nation of soldiers still proud of the preëminence of their name, and ambitious to emulate their hero Charlemagne, who, in the popular romance of Turpin, had achieved the conquest of the Holy Land. A latent motive of affection or vanity might influence the choice of Urban: he was himself a native of France, a monk of Clugny, and the first of his countrymen who ascended the throne of St. Peter. The pope had illustrated his family and province; nor is there perhaps a more exquisite gratification than to revisit, in a conspicuous dignity, the humble and laborious scenes of our youth.

The generous spirit of Gregory VII had already taken on the goal of uniting Europe against Asia; the passion of his zeal and ambition still shines through in his letters: from both sides of the Alps, fifty thousand Catholics had signed up under St. Peter’s banner; and his successor revealed his plan to lead them against the godless followers of Muhammad. But the glory or blame for carrying out, even if not in person, this sacred mission was left to Urban II, the most loyal of his followers. He took on the task of conquering the East while much of Rome was held and fortified by his rival Guibert of Ravenna, who competed with Urban for the title and honors of the papacy. He tried to unite the powers of the West at a time when the princes were separated from the church, and the people from their rulers, due to the excommunications that he and his predecessors had loudly declared against the emperor and the king of France. Philip I of France patiently endured the censures that he had brought upon himself through his scandalous lifestyle and adulterous marriage. Henry IV of Germany claimed the right to investiture, the authority to confirm his bishops by giving them the ring and crosier. However, the emperor’s supporters were defeated in Italy by the Normans and Countess Matilda; and the long dispute had recently been worsened by the rebellion of his son Conrad and the disgrace of his wife, who confessed in the councils of Constance and Placentia the many humiliations she had suffered from a husband indifferent to her honor and his own. Urban’s cause was so popular and his influence so heavy that the council he called at Placentia included two hundred bishops from Italy, France, Burgundy, Swabia, and Bavaria. Four thousand clergy and thirty thousand laypeople attended this significant meeting; and since even the largest cathedral would have been too small for the crowd, the seven-day session was held in a plain nearby the city. The ambassadors of the Greek emperor, Alexius Comnenus, were introduced to plead for their sovereign’s distress and the danger facing Constantinople, which was only divided by a narrow sea from the victorious Turks, the common enemies of Christianity. In their humble appeal, they flattered the pride of the Latin princes; and, appealing to their political and religious sentiments, encouraged them to push back the Barbarians at the edge of Asia rather than wait for them in the heart of Europe. Upon hearing the distress and risks faced by their Eastern brethren, the assembly broke into tears; the most eager champions proclaimed their readiness to march; and the Greek ambassadors were sent away with the assurance of quick and strong support. The relief of Constantinople was part of a larger and more ambitious plan to free Jerusalem; but the wise Urban postponed the final decision to a second synod, which he proposed to hold in some city in France that autumn. The brief delay would fuel the flames of enthusiasm; and his strongest hope lay in a nation of soldiers still proud of their name, eager to emulate their hero Charlemagne, who, in the popular story of Turpin, had conquered the Holy Land. A hidden motive of affection or pride could have influenced Urban’s choice: he was himself a native of France, a monk from Cluny, and the first of his countrymen to take the throne of St. Peter. The pope had honored his family and region; and perhaps there is no greater satisfaction than to return, in a prominent role, to the humble and hardworking places of our youth.

It may occasion some surprise that the Roman pontiff should erect, in the heart of France, the tribunal from whence he hurled his anathemas against the king; but our surprise will vanish so soon as we form a just estimate of a king of France of the eleventh century. Philip the First was the great-grandson of Hugh Capet, the founder of the present race, who, in the decline of Charlemagne's posterity, added the regal title to his patrimonial estates of Paris and Orleans. In this narrow compass, he was possessed of wealth and jurisdiction; but in the rest of France, Hugh and his first descendants were no more than the feudal lords of about sixty dukes and counts, of independent and hereditary power, who disdained the control of laws and legal assemblies, and whose disregard of their sovereign was revenged by the disobedience of their inferior vassals. At Clermont, in the territories of the count of Auvergne, the pope might brave with impunity the resentment of Philip; and the council which he convened in that city was not less numerous or respectable than the synod of Placentia. Besides his court and council of Roman cardinals, he was supported by thirteen archbishops and two hundred and twenty-five bishops: the number of mitred prelates was computed at four hundred; and the fathers of the church were blessed by the saints and enlightened by the doctors of the age. From the adjacent kingdoms, a martial train of lords and knights of power and renown attended the council, in high expectation of its resolves; and such was the ardor of zeal and curiosity, that the city was filled, and many thousands, in the month of November, erected their tents or huts in the open field. A session of eight days produced some useful or edifying canons for the reformation of manners; a severe censure was pronounced against the license of private war; the Truce of God was confirmed, a suspension of hostilities during four days of the week; women and priests were placed under the safeguard of the church; and a protection of three years was extended to husbandmen and merchants, the defenceless victims of military rapine. But a law, however venerable be the sanction, cannot suddenly transform the temper of the times; and the benevolent efforts of Urban deserve the less praise, since he labored to appease some domestic quarrels that he might spread the flames of war from the Atlantic to the Euphrates. From the synod of Placentia, the rumor of his great design had gone forth among the nations: the clergy on their return had preached in every diocese the merit and glory of the deliverance of the Holy Land; and when the pope ascended a lofty scaffold in the market-place of Clermont, his eloquence was addressed to a well-prepared and impatient audience. His topics were obvious, his exhortation was vehement, his success inevitable. The orator was interrupted by the shout of thousands, who with one voice, and in their rustic idiom, exclaimed aloud, "God wills it, God wills it." "It is indeed the will of God," replied the pope; "and let this memorable word, the inspiration surely of the Holy Spirit, be forever adopted as your cry of battle, to animate the devotion and courage of the champions of Christ. His cross is the symbol of your salvation; wear it, a red, a bloody cross, as an external mark, on your breasts or shoulders, as a pledge of your sacred and irrevocable engagement." The proposal was joyfully accepted; great numbers, both of the clergy and laity, impressed on their garments the sign of the cross, and solicited the pope to march at their head. This dangerous honor was declined by the more prudent successor of Gregory, who alleged the schism of the church, and the duties of his pastoral office, recommending to the faithful, who were disqualified by sex or profession, by age or infirmity, to aid, with their prayers and alms, the personal service of their robust brethren. The name and powers of his legate he devolved on Adhemar bishop of Puy, the first who had received the cross at his hands. The foremost of the temporal chiefs was Raymond count of Thoulouse, whose ambassadors in the council excused the absence, and pledged the honor, of their master. After the confession and absolution of their sins, the champions of the cross were dismissed with a superfluous admonition to invite their countrymen and friends; and their departure for the Holy Land was fixed to the festival of the Assumption, the fifteenth of August, of the ensuing year.

It might be surprising that the Pope set up a tribunal in France, from which he issued his condemnations against the king; but this surprise fades once we understand the situation of an eleventh-century king of France. Philip the First was the great-grandson of Hugh Capet, the founder of the current royal line, who, during the decline of Charlemagne’s descendants, added the title of king to his inherited lands in Paris and Orleans. In this limited area, he held wealth and authority; however, outside of these borders, Hugh and his early successors were merely feudal lords among about sixty dukes and counts with independent powers, who ignored laws and legal assemblies, and whose defiance of their ruler was met with disobedience from their lesser vassals. At Clermont, in the region controlled by the count of Auvergne, the pope could challenge Philip without fear of repercussions; the council he called in that city was just as large and respected as the synod of Placentia. Alongside his court and council of Roman cardinals, he was supported by thirteen archbishops and two hundred and twenty-five bishops: the number of bishops was estimated at four hundred; and the church leaders were blessed by the saints and inspired by the thinkers of the time. From neighboring kingdoms, a strong contingent of powerful lords and knights attended the council, eager for its outcomes; so many people showed up that in November, thousands set up tents and huts in the open fields. An eight-day session resulted in some useful or meaningful guidelines for improving behavior; a strict reprimand was issued regarding the freedom of private wars; the Truce of God was confirmed, allowing a break in fighting for four days each week; women and priests were protected by the church; and a three-year protection was granted to farmers and merchants, the vulnerable victims of military looting. Yet, a law, no matter how venerable its approval, cannot instantly change the attitudes of the time; and Urban’s kind efforts deserve less praise, as he sought to resolve some local disputes only to further ignite the flames of war from the Atlantic to the Euphrates. Following the synod of Placentia, news of his grand plan spread among the nations: the clergy preached about the importance and glory of liberating the Holy Land upon their return to their dioceses; and when the pope stood on a high platform in the Clermont marketplace, his words were directed at an eager and well-prepared crowd. His subjects were clear, his encouragement was fervent, and his success was guaranteed. The speaker was interrupted by the cries of thousands, who united in their rustic dialect, shouting, "God wills it, God wills it." "It is indeed the will of God," the pope responded; "and let this memorable phrase, surely inspired by the Holy Spirit, be adopted as your battle cry, inspiring the devotion and bravery of Christ’s champions. His cross is the symbol of your salvation; wear it, a red, bloody cross, visibly on your chest or shoulders, as a sign of your sacred and unbreakable commitment." The idea was enthusiastically welcomed; many, both clergy and laypeople, marked their clothing with the sign of the cross and asked the pope to lead them. This risky honor was respectfully refused by the more cautious successor of Gregory, who cited the church’s schism and his pastoral responsibilities, encouraging the faithful who were unable to join—due to gender, profession, age, or health—to support their strong brothers with prayers and donations. He entrusted the role and authority of his legate to Adhemar, bishop of Puy, the first to receive the cross from him. The leading temporal chief was Raymond, count of Toulouse, whose envoys at the council explained his absence and promised his honor. After confessing and being absolved of their sins, the champions of the cross were released with an unnecessary reminder to invite their fellow countrymen and friends; their departure for the Holy Land was scheduled for the Assumption festival on August 15 of the following year.

So familiar, and as it were so natural to man, is the practice of violence, that our indulgence allows the slightest provocation, the most disputable right, as a sufficient ground of national hostility. But the name and nature of a holy war demands a more rigorous scrutiny; nor can we hastily believe, that the servants of the Prince of Peace would unsheathe the sword of destruction, unless the motive were pure, the quarrel legitimate, and the necessity inevitable. The policy of an action may be determined from the tardy lessons of experience; but, before we act, our conscience should be satisfied of the justice and propriety of our enterprise. In the age of the crusades, the Christians, both of the East and West, were persuaded of their lawfulness and merit; their arguments are clouded by the perpetual abuse of Scripture and rhetoric; but they seem to insist on the right of natural and religious defence, their peculiar title to the Holy Land, and the impiety of their Pagan and Mahometan foes. I. The right of a just defence may fairly include our civil and spiritual allies: it depends on the existence of danger; and that danger must be estimated by the twofold consideration of the malice, and the power, of our enemies. A pernicious tenet has been imputed to the Mahometans, the duty of extirpating all other religions by the sword. This charge of ignorance and bigotry is refuted by the Koran, by the history of the Mussulman conquerors, and by their public and legal toleration of the Christian worship. But it cannot be denied, that the Oriental churches are depressed under their iron yoke; that, in peace and war, they assert a divine and indefeasible claim of universal empire; and that, in their orthodox creed, the unbelieving nations are continually threatened with the loss of religion or liberty. In the eleventh century, the victorious arms of the Turks presented a real and urgent apprehension of these losses. They had subdued, in less than thirty years, the kingdoms of Asia, as far as Jerusalem and the Hellespont; and the Greek empire tottered on the verge of destruction. Besides an honest sympathy for their brethren, the Latins had a right and interest in the support of Constantinople, the most important barrier of the West; and the privilege of defence must reach to prevent, as well as to repel, an impending assault. But this salutary purpose might have been accomplished by a moderate succor; and our calmer reason must disclaim the innumerable hosts, and remote operations, which overwhelmed Asia and depopulated Europe. II. Palestine could add nothing to the strength or safety of the Latins; and fanaticism alone could pretend to justify the conquest of that distant and narrow province. The Christians affirmed that their inalienable title to the promised land had been sealed by the blood of their divine Savior; it was their right and duty to rescue their inheritance from the unjust possessors, who profaned his sepulchre, and oppressed the pilgrimage of his disciples. Vainly would it be alleged that the preëminence of Jerusalem, and the sanctity of Palestine, have been abolished with the Mosaic law; that the God of the Christians is not a local deity, and that the recovery of Bethlem or Calvary, his cradle or his tomb, will not atone for the violation of the moral precepts of the gospel. Such arguments glance aside from the leaden shield of superstition; and the religious mind will not easily relinquish its hold on the sacred ground of mystery and miracle. III. But the holy wars which have been waged in every climate of the globe, from Egypt to Livonia, and from Peru to Hindostan, require the support of some more general and flexible tenet. It has been often supposed, and sometimes affirmed, that a difference of religion is a worthy cause of hostility; that obstinate unbelievers may be slain or subdued by the champions of the cross; and that grace is the sole fountain of dominion as well as of mercy. Above four hundred years before the first crusade, the eastern and western provinces of the Roman empire had been acquired about the same time, and in the same manner, by the Barbarians of Germany and Arabia. Time and treaties had legitimated the conquest of the Christian Franks; but in the eyes of their subjects and neighbors, the Mahometan princes were still tyrants and usurpers, who, by the arms of war or rebellion, might be lawfully driven from their unlawful possession.

So familiar and natural to humans is the practice of violence that we easily allow even the slightest provocation or the most questionable right as enough reason for national conflict. However, the idea of a holy war requires closer examination; we shouldn’t quickly assume that followers of the Prince of Peace would pick up the sword of destruction unless their motives are pure, their cause justified, and their necessity undeniable. The wisdom of an action can often be learned from the slow lessons of experience; yet, before we act, our conscience should be assured of the justice and appropriateness of our endeavor. During the age of the crusades, Christians from both the East and West believed in the righteousness and merits of their actions; their reasoning is obscured by the ongoing misuse of Scripture and rhetoric, but they seem to argue for their right to natural and religious defense, their special claim to the Holy Land, and the impiety of their Pagan and Muslim enemies. I. The right to just defense can justifiably include our civil and spiritual allies: it relies on the presence of danger, and that danger must be assessed based on the malice and power of our foes. A harmful belief has been attributed to Muslims—that they are obligated to extirpate all other religions by force. This accusation of ignorance and intolerance is countered by the Koran, the history of Muslim conquerors, and their public and legal acceptance of Christian worship. Yet, it cannot be denied that Eastern churches suffer under their harsh rule; that in both peace and war, they assert a divine and undeniable claim of universal rule; and that, according to their orthodox beliefs, nonbelieving nations are constantly threatened with losing their religion or freedom. In the eleventh century, the victorious Turkish forces posed a real and urgent fear of these losses. In less than thirty years, they had conquered the kingdoms of Asia up to Jerusalem and the Hellespont, and the Greek Empire was teetering on the edge of collapse. Beyond a genuine concern for their fellow believers, the Latins had both a right and an interest in supporting Constantinople, the most crucial barrier of the West; and the privilege of defense includes preventing as well as repelling an imminent attack. However, this noble goal could have been achieved with more moderate assistance; our calmer judgment must reject the countless armies and far-reaching campaigns that overwhelmed Asia and depopulated Europe. II. Palestine would not enhance the strength or safety of the Latins; only fanaticism could justify the conquest of that distant, narrow territory. Christians claimed that their unassailable claim to the promised land was sealed by the blood of their divine Savior; it was their right and duty to reclaim their inheritance from the unjust possessors who desecrated his tomb and hindered his disciples' pilgrimage. It would be futile to argue that the importance of Jerusalem and the sanctity of Palestine were abolished with the Mosaic law; that the God of Christians isn’t a local deity, and that recovering Bethlehem or Calvary, his birthplace or his tomb, cannot compensate for violating the moral teachings of the gospel. Such arguments barely scratch the surface of the heavy shield of superstition; and the religious heart won’t easily let go of its attachment to the sacred ground of mystery and miracles. III. Nevertheless, the holy wars fought across various climates worldwide—from Egypt to Livonia, and from Peru to India—require a foundation in some broader and more flexible belief. It has often been suggested, and at times stated, that a difference in religion is a valid reason for conflict; that stubborn nonbelievers can be killed or subdued by the defenders of the cross; and that grace is the sole source of authority as well as mercy. Over four hundred years before the first crusade, the Eastern and Western parts of the Roman Empire were captured around the same time and in similar ways by the Barbarian tribes from Germany and Arabia. Time and treaties legitimized the conquest of the Christian Franks; yet, in the eyes of their subjects and neighbors, the Muslim rulers were still seen as tyrants and usurpers, who could be lawfully expelled from their illegitimate holdings by war or rebellion.

As the manners of the Christians were relaxed, their discipline of penance was enforced; and with the multiplication of sins, the remedies were multiplied. In the primitive church, a voluntary and open confession prepared the work of atonement. In the middle ages, the bishops and priests interrogated the criminal; compelled him to account for his thoughts, words, and actions; and prescribed the terms of his reconciliation with God. But as this discretionary power might alternately be abused by indulgence and tyranny, a rule of discipline was framed, to inform and regulate the spiritual judges. This mode of legislation was invented by the Greeks; their penitentials were translated, or imitated, in the Latin church; and, in the time of Charlemagne, the clergy of every diocese were provided with a code, which they prudently concealed from the knowledge of the vulgar. In this dangerous estimate of crimes and punishments, each case was supposed, each difference was remarked, by the experience or penetration of the monks; some sins are enumerated which innocence could not have suspected, and others which reason cannot believe; and the more ordinary offences of fornication and adultery, of perjury and sacrilege, of rapine and murder, were expiated by a penance, which, according to the various circumstances, was prolonged from forty days to seven years. During this term of mortification, the patient was healed, the criminal was absolved, by a salutary regimen of fasts and prayers: the disorder of his dress was expressive of grief and remorse; and he humbly abstained from all the business and pleasure of social life. But the rigid execution of these laws would have depopulated the palace, the camp, and the city; the Barbarians of the West believed and trembled; but nature often rebelled against principle; and the magistrate labored without effect to enforce the jurisdiction of the priest. A literal accomplishment of penance was indeed impracticable: the guilt of adultery was multiplied by daily repetition; that of homicide might involve the massacre of a whole people; each act was separately numbered; and, in those times of anarchy and vice, a modest sinner might easily incur a debt of three hundred years. His insolvency was relieved by a commutation, or indulgence: a year of penance was appreciated at twenty-six solidi of silver, about four pounds sterling, for the rich; at three solidi, or nine shillings, for the indigent: and these alms were soon appropriated to the use of the church, which derived, from the redemption of sins, an inexhaustible source of opulence and dominion. A debt of three hundred years, or twelve hundred pounds, was enough to impoverish a plentiful fortune; the scarcity of gold and silver was supplied by the alienation of land; and the princely donations of Pepin and Charlemagne are expressly given for the remedy of their soul. It is a maxim of the civil law, that whosoever cannot pay with his purse, must pay with his body; and the practice of flagellation was adopted by the monks, a cheap, though painful equivalent. By a fantastic arithmetic, a year of penance was taxed at three thousand lashes; and such was the skill and patience of a famous hermit, St. Dominic of the iron Cuirass, that in six days he could discharge an entire century, by a whipping of three hundred thousand stripes. His example was followed by many penitents of both sexes; and, as a vicarious sacrifice was accepted, a sturdy disciplinarian might expiate on his own back the sins of his benefactors. These compensations of the purse and the person introduced, in the eleventh century, a more honorable mode of satisfaction. The merit of military service against the Saracens of Africa and Spain had been allowed by the predecessors of Urban the Second. In the council of Clermont, that pope proclaimed a plenary indulgence to those who should enlist under the banner of the cross; the absolution of all their sins, and a full receipt for all that might be due of canonical penance. The cold philosophy of modern times is incapable of feeling the impression that was made on a sinful and fanatic world. At the voice of their pastor, the robber, the incendiary, the homicide, arose by thousands to redeem their souls, by repeating on the infidels the same deeds which they had exercised against their Christian brethren; and the terms of atonement were eagerly embraced by offenders of every rank and denomination. None were pure; none were exempt from the guilt and penalty of sin; and those who were the least amenable to the justice of God and the church were the best entitled to the temporal and eternal recompense of their pious courage. If they fell, the spirit of the Latin clergy did not hesitate to adorn their tomb with the crown of martyrdom; and should they survive, they could expect without impatience the delay and increase of their heavenly reward. They offered their blood to the Son of God, who had laid down his life for their salvation: they took up the cross, and entered with confidence into the way of the Lord. His providence would watch over their safety; perhaps his visible and miraculous power would smooth the difficulties of their holy enterprise. The cloud and pillar of Jehovah had marched before the Israelites into the promised land. Might not the Christians more reasonably hope that the rivers would open for their passage; that the walls of their strongest cities would fall at the sound of their trumpets; and that the sun would be arrested in his mid career, to allow them time for the destruction of the infidels?

As Christian behavior became more relaxed, they tightened their rules for penance, and with the increase of sins, the solutions were also increased. In the early church, voluntary and open confession set the stage for atonement. But during the Middle Ages, bishops and priests questioned offenders, forcing them to account for their thoughts, words, and actions, while also defining the terms for reconciliation with God. However, since this power could be misused through leniency or strictness, a set of guidelines was established to inform and regulate spiritual judges. This system was created by the Greeks; their penitentials were translated or modeled in the Latin Church, and during Charlemagne's time, every diocese's clergy was given a code that they wisely kept hidden from the general public. In this risky evaluation of crimes and punishments, monks detailed each case based on their experience or insight. Some sins listed were ones that innocent people wouldn’t even think of, while others defied reason. Common offenses like fornication, adultery, perjury, sacrilege, robbery, and murder required penance that varied between forty days to seven years, depending on the circumstances. During this time of self-discipline, the offender was expected to heal and be absolved through a regimen of fasting and prayer. Their disheveled appearance showed their grief and remorse, and they refrained from engaging in social activities and pleasures. However, strict enforcement of these laws could have depopulated the palace, the army, and the city; the Western Barbarians feared but often ignored these principles. The authorities struggled to make priests' jurisdiction effective. A literal fulfillment of penance was nearly impossible: the sin of adultery multiplied with each day, and homicide could mean the slaughter of entire communities; every sin was counted individually, and in those chaotic times, a modest sinner could easily rack up a debt of three hundred years of penance. To alleviate this burden, a monetary compensation, or indulgence, was introduced: a year of penance equated to twenty-six solidi of silver (about four pounds sterling) for the wealthy, and three solidi, or nine shillings, for the poor. These contributions quickly went to the church, which found an endless source of wealth and power through the redemption of sins. A debt of three hundred years or twelve hundred pounds could devastate even the wealthiest. The shortage of gold and silver led to the sale of land, and the generous donations of Pepin and Charlemagne were explicitly made for the remedy of their souls. According to civil law, whoever couldn't pay with money had to pay with their body; and monks adopted the practice of flogging as a cheap, though painful, alternative. Through a bizarre calculation, a year of penance was set at three thousand lashes; and a famous hermit, St. Dominic of the Iron Cuirass, could endure three hundred thousand blows within six days to clear an entire century of penance. His example inspired many penitents, and as a form of vicarious sacrifice, a disciplined individual could atone for the sins of others through their own suffering. These monetary and personal compensations led to a more honorable method of atonement in the eleventh century. Military service against the Saracens in Africa and Spain had been recognized by the predecessors of Urban II. At the Council of Clermont, that pope declared a plenary indulgence for those who enlisted under the banner of the cross, offering absolution for all their sins and a full waiver for any canonical penance. The detached philosophy of modern times cannot grasp the impact this had on a sinful and fanatic society. At their pastor's call, thousands of robbers, arsonists, and murderers rose up to redeem their souls by perpetuating the same violence against the infidels that they had previously committed against fellow Christians; and the terms of atonement were eagerly accepted by offenders of all kinds. No one was innocent; no one was exempt from sin and its repercussions; and those least likely to face God's justice were often the most deserving of the earthly and eternal rewards for their boldness. If they fell in battle, the Latin clergy proudly labeled their graves with martyrdom; if they survived, they could await their heavenly reward with patience. They offered their blood to the Son of God, who sacrificed Himself for their salvation: they took up the cross and confidently walked the path of the Lord. They believed that God's providence would protect them; perhaps His visible and miraculous power would ease the challenges of their holy mission. The cloud and pillar of Jehovah had led the Israelites into the promised land; why couldn't Christians hope that rivers would part to let them through, that the walls of the strongest cities would collapse at the sound of their trumpets, and that the sun would halt in its course to give them time to defeat the infidels?





Chapter LVIII: The First Crusade.—Part II.

Of the chiefs and soldiers who marched to the holy sepulchre, I will dare to affirm, that all were prompted by the spirit of enthusiasm; the belief of merit, the hope of reward, and the assurance of divine aid. But I am equally persuaded, that in many it was not the sole, that in some it was not the leading, principle of action. The use and abuse of religion are feeble to stem, they are strong and irresistible to impel, the stream of national manners. Against the private wars of the Barbarians, their bloody tournaments, licentious love, and judicial duels, the popes and synods might ineffectually thunder. It is a more easy task to provoke the metaphysical disputes of the Greeks, to drive into the cloister the victims of anarchy or despotism, to sanctify the patience of slaves and cowards, or to assume the merit of the humanity and benevolence of modern Christians. War and exercise were the reigning passions of the Franks or Latins; they were enjoined, as a penance, to gratify those passions, to visit distant lands, and to draw their swords against the nation of the East. Their victory, or even their attempt, would immortalize the names of the intrepid heroes of the cross; and the purest piety could not be insensible to the most splendid prospect of military glory. In the petty quarrels of Europe, they shed the blood of their friends and countrymen, for the acquisition perhaps of a castle or a village. They could march with alacrity against the distant and hostile nations who were devoted to their arms; their fancy already grasped the golden sceptres of Asia; and the conquest of Apulia and Sicily by the Normans might exalt to royalty the hopes of the most private adventurer. Christendom, in her rudest state, must have yielded to the climate and cultivation of the Mahometan countries; and their natural and artificial wealth had been magnified by the tales of pilgrims, and the gifts of an imperfect commerce. The vulgar, both the great and small, were taught to believe every wonder, of lands flowing with milk and honey, of mines and treasures, of gold and diamonds, of palaces of marble and jasper, and of odoriferous groves of cinnamon and frankincense. In this earthly paradise, each warrior depended on his sword to carve a plenteous and honorable establishment, which he measured only by the extent of his wishes. Their vassals and soldiers trusted their fortunes to God and their master: the spoils of a Turkish emir might enrich the meanest follower of the camp; and the flavor of the wines, the beauty of the Grecian women, were temptations more adapted to the nature, than to the profession, of the champions of the cross. The love of freedom was a powerful incitement to the multitudes who were oppressed by feudal or ecclesiastical tyranny. Under this holy sign, the peasants and burghers, who were attached to the servitude of the glebe, might escape from a haughty lord, and transplant themselves and their families to a land of liberty. The monk might release himself from the discipline of his convent: the debtor might suspend the accumulation of usury, and the pursuit of his creditors; and outlaws and malefactors of every cast might continue to brave the laws and elude the punishment of their crimes.

Of the leaders and soldiers who marched to the holy sepulchre, I can confidently say that all were motivated by a spirit of enthusiasm; the belief in their own value, the hope for rewards, and the assurance of divine help. However, I'm also convinced that for many, it wasn't the only reason, and for some, it wasn't the primary motivation. The influence of religion can be weak in resisting the force of national customs, but it can strongly drive people forward. Against the private wars of the Barbarians, their brutal tournaments, reckless love, and formal duels, popes and synods might have ineffectually protested. It's easier to ignite philosophical debates among the Greeks, to push those suffering under anarchy or tyranny into monasteries, to claim saints’ patience in slaves and cowards, or to assume that modern Christians possess human kindness and generosity. War and physical activity were the dominant passions of the Franks or Latins; they were encouraged, almost as a form of penance, to indulge these passions, explore distant lands, and draw their swords against the nations of the East. Their victories, or even just seeking them, would immortalize the names of brave heroes of the cross; and true piety couldn't ignore the appealing idea of military glory. In their minor conflicts in Europe, they spilled the blood of their friends and countrymen, perhaps just to gain a castle or village. They could march eagerly against distant, hostile nations ready to fight; their imaginations were already seizing the golden scepters of Asia, and the Normans' conquests of Apulia and Sicily might elevate even a humble adventurer to royalty. Christendom, in its roughest form, would have succumbed to the climate and agriculture of the Muslim regions; and their natural and man-made wealth was amplified by the tales of pilgrims and the imperfect trade. The masses, both powerful and humble, were led to believe in all sorts of wonders: lands overflowing with milk and honey, mines and treasures, gold and diamonds, marble and jasper palaces, and fragrant groves of cinnamon and frankincense. In this earthly paradise, each warrior relied on his sword to carve out a rich and honorable position, with success measured only by the limits of his desires. Their vassals and soldiers placed their fortunes in God's and their master's hands: the spoils of a Turkish emir could enrich even the lowest camp follower; and the allure of fine wines and the beauty of Greek women were temptations more fitting to the nature than to the calling of the champions of the cross. The desire for freedom was a strong motivator for many oppressed by feudal or religious oppression. Under this holy banner, the peasants and townsfolk bound to the land could escape from a proud lord and relocate themselves and their families to a land of freedom. The monk could free himself from the rules of his monastery; the debtor could pause the accumulation of interest and escape his lenders; and outlaws and criminals of all kinds could continue to defy the law and evade punishment for their wrongdoing.

These motives were potent and numerous: when we have singly computed their weight on the mind of each individual, we must add the infinite series, the multiplying powers, of example and fashion. The first proselytes became the warmest and most effectual missionaries of the cross: among their friends and countrymen they preached the duty, the merit, and the recompense, of their holy vow; and the most reluctant hearers were insensibly drawn within the whirlpool of persuasion and authority. The martial youths were fired by the reproach or suspicion of cowardice; the opportunity of visiting with an army the sepulchre of Christ was embraced by the old and infirm, by women and children, who consulted rather their zeal than their strength; and those who in the evening had derided the folly of their companions, were the most eager, the ensuing day, to tread in their footsteps. The ignorance, which magnified the hopes, diminished the perils, of the enterprise. Since the Turkish conquest, the paths of pilgrimage were obliterated; the chiefs themselves had an imperfect notion of the length of the way and the state of their enemies; and such was the stupidity of the people, that, at the sight of the first city or castle beyond the limits of their knowledge, they were ready to ask whether that was not the Jerusalem, the term and object of their labors. Yet the more prudent of the crusaders, who were not sure that they should be fed from heaven with a shower of quails or manna, provided themselves with those precious metals, which, in every country, are the representatives of every commodity. To defray, according to their rank, the expenses of the road, princes alienated their provinces, nobles their lands and castles, peasants their cattle and the instruments of husbandry. The value of property was depreciated by the eager competition of multitudes; while the price of arms and horses was raised to an exorbitant height by the wants and impatience of the buyers. Those who remained at home, with sense and money, were enriched by the epidemical disease: the sovereigns acquired at a cheap rate the domains of their vassals; and the ecclesiastical purchasers completed the payment by the assurance of their prayers. The cross, which was commonly sewed on the garment, in cloth or silk, was inscribed by some zealots on their skin: a hot iron, or indelible liquor, was applied to perpetuate the mark; and a crafty monk, who showed the miraculous impression on his breast was repaid with the popular veneration and the richest benefices of Palestine.

These motives were strong and plentiful: when we individually considered how much they affected each person's mind, we had to add the countless examples and trends that influenced people. The first converts became the most passionate and effective promoters of their faith: among their friends and fellow countrymen, they preached about the duty, value, and rewards of their holy commitment; even the most skeptical listeners were gradually swept up in the tide of persuasion and authority. Young warriors were motivated by the shame or suspicion of being called cowards; even the old and frail, along with women and children, seized the chance to visit Christ's tomb with an army, driven more by their enthusiasm than their strength; and those who had mocked their friends' foolishness the night before were the most eager the next day to follow in their footsteps. The lack of knowledge, which inflated their hopes, lessened their worries about the risks of the journey. Since the Turkish conquest, the paths of pilgrimage had vanished; even the leaders had only a vague idea of the distance and the state of their enemies; and the ignorance of the people was such that, when they saw their first city or castle beyond their familiarity, they were ready to ask whether that could be Jerusalem, the goal of their efforts. Yet, the more cautious crusaders, who were not relying on divine provisions like quail or manna, gathered precious metals, which were recognized everywhere as currency. To cover the expenses of their journey according to their ranking, princes sold off their territories, nobles their lands and castles, and peasants their livestock and farming tools. The value of property dropped due to the fierce competition among the masses; meanwhile, the prices of weapons and horses skyrocketed because of the urgency and demand of the buyers. Those who stayed behind, with sense and resources, profited from this widespread situation: rulers acquired their vassals' lands at low prices, and ecclesiastical buyers completed payments with promises of prayers. The cross, commonly sewn onto clothing in fabric or silk, was tattooed by some zealous individuals on their skin: a hot iron or permanent ink was used to make the mark last; a cunning monk who displayed the miraculous imprint on his chest gained popular respect and the richest benefits in Palestine.

The fifteenth 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, and I shall briefly despatch the calamities which they inflicted and suffered, before I enter on the more serious and successful enterprise of the chiefs. 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 crusade, 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 van guard 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, 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 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, Treves, Mentz, Spires, 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, barricadoed 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.

The fifteenth of August was set in the council of Clermont for the departure of the pilgrims; however, the thoughtless and needy crowd of common people couldn’t wait, and I’ll briefly cover the troubles they caused and faced before moving on to the more serious and successful ventures of the leaders. Early in the spring, over sixty thousand men and women gathered around the first missionary of the crusade from the borders of France and Lorraine, insisting loudly that he lead them to the holy sepulchre. The hermit took on the role, though he lacked the skills or authority, of a general and pushed or was pushed by the eager crowd along the banks of the Rhine and Danube. Their needs and numbers soon forced them to split up, and his lieutenant, Walter the Penniless, a brave but poor soldier, led a vanguard of pilgrims, whose situation can be gauged by the ratio of eight horsemen to fifteen thousand foot soldiers. Another fanatic closely followed Peter's example; the monk Godescal, whose sermons had drawn away fifteen or twenty thousand peasants from German villages. Behind them was a mass of two hundred thousand people, the most ignorant and brutal among the populace, who mixed their devotion with a reckless appetite for looting, prostitution, and drunkenness. Some nobles and gentlemen, with three thousand horsemen, accompanied the crowds to share in the plunder; but their actual leaders (can we believe such nonsense?) were a goose and a goat carried at the front, to whom these devout Christians attributed a divine influence. Among these, and other enthusiastic groups, the easiest and first target was the Jews, considered the murderers of the Son of God. In the trading cities along the Moselle and Rhine, their communities were numerous and wealthy; they thrived under the protection of the emperor and the bishops, enjoying the freedom to practice their religion. In Verdun, Treves, Mentz, Spires, and Worms, many thousands from that unfortunate group were looted and slaughtered: they hadn’t faced such a brutal attack since Hadrian's persecution. A few were saved by the firmness of their bishops, who accepted a feigned and temporary conversion; but the more resolute Jews countered the fanaticism of the Christians with their own, barricading their homes, and many threw themselves, their families, and their wealth into rivers or flames, thwarting the malice, or at least the greed, of their relentless enemies.

Between the frontiers of Austria and the seat of the Byzantine monarchy, the crusaders were compelled to traverse as interval of six hundred miles; the wild and desolate countries of Hungary and Bulgaria. The soil is fruitful, and intersected with rivers; but it was then covered with morasses and forests, which spread to a boundless extent, whenever man has ceased to exercise his dominion over the earth. 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 to indignation and revenge. But their ignorance of the country, of war, and of discipline, exposed them to every snare. The Greek præfect 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 succor of the Latins, conducted them by secure and easy journeys to Constantinople, and advised them to await the arrival of their brethren. For a while 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 Bosphorus; 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 to 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 rumor that their foremost companions were rioting in the spoils of his capital, Soliman tempted the main body to descend into the plain of Nice: 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 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.

Between the borders of Austria and the center of the Byzantine Empire, the crusaders had to cover a distance of six hundred miles through the wild and desolate lands of Hungary and Bulgaria. The land was fertile and crossed by rivers, but back then it was overrun with swamps and forests that stretched endlessly whenever humans stopped tending to the land. Both nations had absorbed the basics of Christianity; the Hungarians were governed by their own rulers, while the Bulgarians were overseen by a representative of the Greek emperor. However, at the slightest provocation, their fierce nature flared up, and the chaos caused by the first pilgrims gave them plenty of reason to retaliate. Agriculture must have been primitive and sluggish among a people whose cities were made of reeds and wood, which they abandoned in the summer for the tents of hunters and shepherds. They demanded a meager supply of food, which was seized with force and quickly consumed, and at the first sign of conflict, the crusaders unleashed their anger and desire for revenge. Their lack of knowledge about the land, warfare, and discipline made them vulnerable to traps. The Greek prefect of Bulgaria commanded a regular army; at the call of the Hungarian king, a portion of his warriors armed themselves and rode out on horseback. Their tactics were deceitful, and their retaliation against these holy pillagers was fierce and bloody. About a third of the vulnerable fugitives (including the hermit Peter) managed to escape to the Thracian mountains. The emperor, who respected the pilgrimage and support of the Latins, led them safely to Constantinople and advised them to wait for their fellow crusaders. For a time, they reflected on their mistakes and losses, but as soon as they were revived by warm hospitality, their hostility returned; they attacked their benefactor, and no gardens, palaces, or churches were safe from their plundering. For his own safety, Alexius tried to persuade them to cross to the Asian side of the Bosphorus, but their reckless fury soon led them to abandon the position he had given them and charge blindly at the Turks, who controlled the road to Jerusalem. The hermit, aware of his disgrace, had left the camp for Constantinople; his lieutenant, Walter the Penniless, who deserved a better role, unsuccessfully tried to bring order and caution among the unruly group. They split up in search of loot but fell easily into the sultan's traps. By spreading the rumor that their leading companions were celebrating the spoils of his capital, Soliman lured the main group down to the plains of Nice; they were overwhelmed by Turkish arrows, and a mound of bones later revealed to their companions where they had been defeated. Of the first crusaders, three hundred thousand had already died before a single city was freed from the infidels and before their more serious and noble comrades had finished preparing for their mission.

"To save time and space, I shall represent, in a short table, the particular references to the great events of the first crusade."

"To save time and space, I will present, in a brief table, the specific references to the major events of the first crusade."

[See Table 1.: Events Of The First Crusade.]

[See Table 1: Events of the First Crusade.]

None of the great sovereigns of Europe embarked their persons in the first crusade. The emperor Henry the Fourth was not disposed to obey the summons of the pope: Philip the First of France was occupied by his pleasures; William Rufus of England by a recent conquest; the kings of Spain were engaged in a domestic war against the Moors; and the northern monarchs of Scotland, Denmark, Sweden, and Poland, were yet strangers to the passions and interests of the South. The religious ardor was more strongly felt by the princes of the second order, who held an important place in the feudal system. Their situation will naturally cast under four distinct heads the review of their names and characters; but I may escape some needless repetition, by observing at once, that courage and the exercise of arms are the common attribute of these Christian adventurers. I. The first rank both in war and council is justly due to Godfrey of 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. His father was of the noble race of the counts of Boulogne: Brabant, the lower province of Lorraine, was the inheritance of his mother; and by the emperor's bounty he was himself invested with that ducal title, which has been improperly transferred to his lordship of Bouillon in the Ardennes. In the service of Henry the Fourth, he bore the great standard of the empire, and pierced with his lance the breast of Rodolph, 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 valor 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 of 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. The duke of Lorraine, was alike celebrated on either side of the Rhine: from his birth and education, he was equally conversant with the French and Teutonic languages: the barons of France, Germany, and Lorraine, assembled their vassals; and the confederate force that marched under his banner was composed of fourscore thousand foot and about ten thousand horse. II. 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. The worth of Robert was degraded by an excessive levity and easiness of temper: his cheerfulness seduced him to the indulgence of pleasure; his profuse liberality impoverished the prince and people; his indiscriminate clemency multiplied the number of offenders; and the amiable qualities of a private man became the essential defects of a sovereign. For the trifling sum of ten thousand marks, he mortgaged Normandy during his absence to the English usurper; but his engagement and behavior 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, a royal province, which, in this century, gave three queens to the thrones of France, England, and Denmark: 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 three hundred and sixty-five 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 of the barons who were possessed of three or four towns would exceed, says a contemporary, the catalogue of the Trojan war. III. In the south of France, the command was assumed by Adhemar bishop of Puy, the pope legate, and by Raymond count of St. Giles and Thoulouse 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. His experience and riches gave him a strong ascendant in the Christian camp, whose distress he was often able, and sometimes willing, to relieve. But it was easier for him to extort the praise of the Infidels, than to preserve the love of his subjects and associates. His eminent qualities were clouded by a temper haughty, envious, and obstinate; and, though he resigned an ample patrimony for the cause of God, his piety, in the public opinion, was not exempt from avarice and ambition. 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. IV. 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 Tarentum, and the remembrance of his Eastern trophies, till he was awakened by the rumor 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 allay 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 Amalphi, 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.

None of the great rulers of Europe participated in the first crusade. Emperor Henry IV was unwilling to heed the pope's call; Philip I of France was caught up in his pleasures; William Rufus of England was preoccupied with a recent conquest; the kings of Spain were embroiled in a civil war against the Moors; and the northern kings of Scotland, Denmark, Sweden, and Poland were still unfamiliar with the passions and interests of the South. The religious fervor was more intensely felt among the lower-ranking princes, who played an important role in the feudal system. Their situation can be grouped into four distinct categories for reviewing their names and characters; however, I can avoid some unnecessary repetition by noting that courage and military prowess were common traits among these Christian adventurers. I. The foremost position in both war and council rightly belonged to Godfrey of Bouillon; it would have been fortunate for the crusaders had they relied solely on that accomplished hero, a worthy descendant of Charlemagne through his maternal line. His father hailed from the noble lineage of the counts of Boulogne, while Brabant, the lower region of Lorraine, was inherited from his mother. By the emperor's grace, he was granted the ducal title that has been improperly assigned to his lordship of Bouillon in the Ardennes. While serving Henry IV, he carried the great standard of the empire and drove his lance into the chest of Rodolph, the rebel king. Godfrey was the first to scale the walls of Rome; his illness, vow, and perhaps his remorse for fighting against the pope solidified an early commitment to visit the holy sepulcher, not as a pilgrim, but as a liberator. His bravery was complemented by wisdom and restraint; his faith, though blind, was genuine; and amidst the chaos of a camp, he embodied both the true and pretended virtues of a monastery. Rising above the private rivalries of the leaders, he reserved his animosity for the enemies of Christ; and even though he gained a kingdom through his endeavors, his pure and selfless zeal was recognized by his rivals. Godfrey of Bouillon was joined by his two brothers—Eustace, the elder, who inherited the county of Boulogne, and the younger, Baldwin, whose character was more ambiguous. The Duke of Lorraine was well-known on both sides of the Rhine: being born and educated there, he was fluent in both French and German. The barons from France, Germany, and Lorraine gathered their vassals; the combined force that marched under his banner totaled eighty thousand infantry and about ten thousand cavalry. II. During the assembly held in Paris, in the king's presence, about two months after the council of Clermont, Hugh, Count of Vermandois, stood out as the most notable of the princes who took up the cross. But the title of the Great was not so much due to his merits or possessions (though neither were insignificant), but rather to the royal lineage of being the brother of the king of France. Robert, Duke of Normandy, was the eldest son of William the Conqueror; however, upon his father's death, he lost the kingdom of England due to his own laziness and the proactive nature of his brother Rufus. Robert's worth was diminished by excessive frivolity and a lack of resolve: his joviality led him to indulge in pleasure; his recklessly generous nature impoverished both the prince and the people; his indiscriminate kindness resulted in a rise in offenders; and the lovable traits of a private individual became the key flaws of a ruler. For a trifling ten thousand marks, he mortgaged Normandy during his absence to the English usurper, but his involvement in the holy war hinted at a transformation of character and somewhat restored him in public opinion. Another Robert was Count of Flanders, a royal territory that, in this century, produced three queens for the thrones of France, England, and Denmark: he was known as the Sword and Lance of the Christians; however, in his military exploits, he sometimes neglected the responsibilities of a leader. Stephen, Count of Chartres, Blois, and Troyes, was one of the wealthiest princes of the time; the number of his castles was likened to the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. His intellect was sharpened by literature; in the council of the leaders, the articulate Stephen was selected to serve as their president. These four were the primary leaders of the French, Normans, and pilgrims from the British Isles; but the inventory of barons who owned three or four towns would, according to a contemporary, surpass the list from the Trojan War. III. In the south of France, command was taken by Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, the pope's legate, and Raymond, Count of St. Gilles and Toulouse, who added the more impressive titles of Duke of Narbonne and Marquis of Provence. The former was a respected prelate, well-suited for both this world and the next. The latter was a seasoned warrior, who had fought against the Saracens in Spain and dedicated his later years not only to the liberation but also to the ongoing service of the holy sepulcher. His wealth and experience gave him a strong influence in the Christian camp, which he often had the means, and sometimes the willingness, to help. However, it was easier for him to earn the praise of the Infidels than to maintain the affection of his subjects and allies. His remarkable traits were overshadowed by a haughty, envious, and stubborn nature; and although he gave up a substantial inheritance for God’s cause, his piety was under suspicion of greed and ambition in the eyes of the public. A mercantile mindset, rather than a martial one, prevailed among his provincials, a collective term encompassing the natives of Auvergne and Languedoc and the vassals of the kingdom of Burgundy or Arles. From the nearby border of Spain, he attracted a group of hardy adventurers; as he passed through Lombardy, a multitude of Italians rallied to his banner, and his total force consisted of one hundred thousand infantry and cavalry. If Raymond was the first to recruit and the last to leave, his delay can be excused by the enormity of his preparations and the promise of a lasting farewell. IV. The name of Bohemond, the son of Robert Guiscard, was already famous for his dual victory over the Greek emperor; however, his father's will confined him to the principality of Tarentum, and the memory of his Eastern victories lingered until he was stirred by the news and arrival of the French pilgrims. It is through this Norman leader that we may find the sharpest strategy and ambition, with a touch of religious fanaticism. His actions might suggest that he had secretly shaped the pope's plans, which he pretended to support with shock and passion: during the siege of Amalfi, his example and speech ignited the fervor of a joint army; he immediately ripped his garment to create crosses for the multitude of candidates and made ready to journey to Constantinople and Asia at the head of ten thousand cavalry and twenty thousand infantry. Several princes from the Norman lineage accompanied this seasoned general; his cousin Tancred was more of a partner than a subordinate in the campaign. In the refined character of Tancred, we see all the virtues of an ideal knight, the true spirit of chivalry, which embodied the noble traits and social responsibilities of a man far surpassing the base philosophy or the lesser religion of the time.





Chapter LVIII: The First Crusade.—Part III.

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 honorable name of 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 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 honor 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. This ceremony, of which some traces may be found in Tacitus and the woods of Germany, was in its origin simple and profane; the candidate, after some previous trial, was invested with the sword and spurs; and his cheek or shoulder was touched with a slight blow, as an emblem of the last affront which it was lawful for him to endure. But superstition mingled in every public and private action of life: in the holy wars, it sanctified the profession of arms; and the order of chivalry was assimilated in its rights and privileges to the sacred orders of priesthood. The bath and white garment of the novice were an indecent copy of the regeneration of baptism: his sword, which he offered on the altar, was blessed by the ministers of religion: his solemn reception was preceded by fasts and vigils; and he was created a knight in the name of God, of St. George, and of St. Michael the archangel. He swore to accomplish the duties of his profession; and education, example, and the public opinion, were the inviolable guardians of his oath. As the champion of God and the ladies, (I blush to unite such discordant names,) he devoted himself to speak the truth; to maintain the right; to protect the distressed; to practise courtesy, a virtue less familiar to the ancients; to pursue the infidels; to despise the allurements of ease and safety; and to vindicate in every perilous adventure the honor of his character. The abuse of the same spirit provoked the illiterate knight to disdain the arts of industry and peace; to esteem himself the sole judge and avenger of his own injuries; and proudly to neglect the laws of civil society and military discipline. Yet the benefits of this institution, to refine the temper of Barbarians, and to infuse some principles of faith, justice, and humanity, were strongly felt, and have been often observed. The asperity of national prejudice was softened; and the community of religion and arms spread a similar color and generous emulation over the face of Christendom. Abroad in enterprise and pilgrimage, at home in martial exercise, the warriors of every country were perpetually associated; and impartial taste must prefer a Gothic tournament to the Olympic games of classic antiquity. Instead of the naked spectacles which corrupted the manners of the Greeks, and banished from the stadium the virgins and matrons, the pompous decoration of the lists was crowned with the presence of chaste and high-born beauty, from whose hands the conqueror received the prize of his dexterity and courage. The skill and strength that were exerted in wrestling and boxing bear a distant and doubtful relation to the merit of a soldier; but the tournaments, as they were invented in France, and eagerly adopted both in the East and West, presented a lively image of the business of the field. The single combats, the general skirmish, the defence of a pass, or castle, were rehearsed as in actual service; and the contest, both in real and mimic war, was decided by the superior management of the horse and lance. The lance was the proper and peculiar weapon of the knight: his horse was of a large and heavy breed; but this charger, till he was roused by the approaching danger, was usually led by an attendant, and he quietly rode a pad or palfrey of a more easy pace. His helmet and sword, his greaves and buckler, it would be superfluous to describe; but I may remark, that, at the period of the crusades, the armor was less ponderous than in later times; and that, instead of a massy cuirass, his breast was defended by a hauberk or coat of mail. When their long lances were fixed in the rest, the warriors furiously spurred their horses against the foe; and the light cavalry of the Turks and Arabs could seldom stand against the direct and impetuous weight of their charge. Each knight was attended to the field by his faithful squire, a youth of equal birth and similar hopes; he was followed by his archers and men at arms, and four, or five, or six soldiers were computed as the furniture of a complete lance. In the expeditions to the neighboring kingdoms or the Holy Land, the duties of the feudal tenure no longer subsisted; the voluntary service of the knights and their followers were either prompted by zeal or attachment, or purchased with rewards and promises; and the numbers of each squadron were measured by the power, the wealth, and the fame, of each independent chieftain. They were distinguished by his banner, his armorial coat, and his cry of war; and the most ancient families of Europe must seek in these achievements the origin and proof of their nobility. In this rapid portrait of chivalry I have been urged to anticipate on the story of the crusades, at once an effect and a cause, of this memorable institution.

Between the time of Charlemagne and the Crusades, a significant change occurred among the Spaniards, Normans, and French, gradually spreading to the rest of Europe. The infantry became a role for commoners; cavalry became the backbone of armies, and the respected title of miles, or soldier, was reserved for gentlemen who fought on horseback and were recognized as knights. Dukes and counts claimed sovereign rights, dividing provinces among their loyal barons. The barons then distributed fiefs or benefits among their vassals; these military tenants, equal to each other and their lord, formed the noble or equestrian class, which looked down on peasants and townspeople as inferior. Their noble status was maintained through pure and equal marriages. Only their sons, who could trace four generations of unblemished ancestry, were legally eligible for knighthood, though a brave commoner could sometimes become rich and noble through valor and beget a new lineage. A single knight could bestow knighthood based on his discretion, and the warlike rulers of Europe gained more prestige from this personal distinction than from the sheen of their crowns. This ceremony, with roots in Tacitus and the forests of Germany, began as straightforward and secular; after a trial period, the candidate was invested with sword and spurs, and a light blow to the cheek or shoulder symbolized the last insult he could legally endure. However, superstition tainted every aspect of public and private life: in the holy wars, it sanctified military service, and the chivalric order was closely associated with the sacred rights and privileges of the priesthood. The bath and white garment of the novice were an inappropriate imitation of baptism's renewal; his sword, offered at the altar, was blessed by religious ministers; his formal acceptance was preceded by fasting and vigils; and he was made a knight in the name of God, St. George, and St. Michael the archangel. He promised to fulfill his duties; and education, example, and public opinion became the unbreakable guardians of his oath. As a champion of God and women (I hesitate to unite such contrasting terms), he committed to speaking the truth; protecting the rights of others; aiding the distressed; practicing courtesy, a virtue less recognized by the ancients; pursuing infidels; rejecting the temptations of comfort and safety; and defending, in every dangerous adventure, the honor of his character. The misuse of this spirit led some uneducated knights to disdain peaceful arts, consider themselves the sole judges and avengers of their own grievances, and to arrogantly ignore civil laws and military discipline. Yet the benefits of this institution, refining the ways of Barbarians and introducing some principles of faith, justice, and humanity, were significantly felt and frequently noted. National prejudices softened; the shared religion and arms fostered a spirit of generosity and emulation across Christendom. Whether abroad on quests and pilgrimages or at home in martial practices, warriors from every nation were constantly connected; and an impartial observer would likely prefer a Gothic tournament to the Olympic games of ancient Greece. Rather than the bare spectacles that corrupted Greek morals and excluded women from the stadium, the grand displays of the tournaments were adorned with the presence of virtuous, high-born beauties, from whose hands victors received the rewards of their skill and bravery. The skill and strength displayed in wrestling and boxing only vaguely relate to a soldier's merits; however, tournaments, which originated in France and were eagerly embraced in both East and West, provided a vivid reflection of battlefield activities. Single combats, skirmishes, and the defense of a passage or castle were practiced as if in real-service situations; in both authentic and staged battles, outcomes relied on superior horse and lance control. The lance was the knight's distinctive weapon: his horse was large and powerful, but until danger approached, he was usually led by an attendant, while he rode a more comfortable pad or palfrey. It would be superfluous to detail his helmet and sword, greaves, and shield; I can note that, during the Crusades, armor was lighter than in later times, and instead of a massive cuirass, his chest was protected by a hauberk or coat of mail. When their long lances were braced, the warriors charged furiously at the enemy, and the light cavalry of the Turks and Arabs often struggled to withstand the direct and forceful weight of their attack. Each knight was accompanied into battle by his loyal squire, a youth of similar birth and aspirations; behind him were his archers and men-at-arms, and four, five, or six soldiers were required to complete a lance. In expeditions to neighboring kingdoms or the Holy Land, the obligations of feudal service faded; the knights' voluntary service and that of their followers were motivated by zeal or loyalty, or incentivized with rewards and promises; the numbers in each squadron depended on the power, wealth, and reputation of each independent leader. They were identified by their banner, coat of arms, and battle cry; and the oldest families in Europe sought in these achievements the origin and proof of their nobility. In this swift overview of chivalry, I've been compelled to touch upon the history of the Crusades, which was both a result and a cause of this notable institution.

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 neighborhood of Constantinople, and from thence to begin their operations against the Turks. From the banks of the Meuse and the Moselle, Godfrey of Bouillon followed the direct way of Germany, Hungary, and Bulgaria; and, as long as he exercised the sole command every step afforded some proof of his prudence and virtue. On the confines of Hungary he was stopped three weeks by a Christian people, to whom the name, or at least the abuse, of the cross was justly odious. The Hungarians still smarted with the wounds which they had received from the first pilgrims: in their turn they had abused the right of defence and retaliation; and they had reason to apprehend a severe revenge from a hero of the same nation, and who was engaged in the same cause. But, after weighing the motives and the events, the virtuous duke was content to pity the crimes and misfortunes of his worthless brethren; and his twelve deputies, the messengers of peace, requested in his name a free passage and an equal market. To remove their suspicions, Godfrey trusted himself, and afterwards his brother, to the faith of Carloman, king of Hungary, who treated them with a simple but hospitable entertainment: the treaty was sanctified by their common gospel; and a proclamation, under pain of death, restrained the animosity and license of the Latin soldiers. From Austria to Belgrade, they traversed the plains of Hungary, without enduring or offering an injury; and the proximity of Carloman, who hovered on their flanks with his numerous cavalry, was a precaution not less useful for their safety than for his own. They reached the banks of the Save; and no sooner had they passed the river, than the king of Hungary restored the hostages, and saluted their departure with the fairest wishes for the success of their enterprise. With the same conduct and discipline, Godfrey pervaded the woods of Bulgaria and the frontiers of Thrace; and might congratulate himself that he had almost reached the first term of his pilgrimage, without drawing his sword against a Christian adversary. After an easy and pleasant journey through Lombardy, from Turin to Aquileia, Raymond and his provincials marched forty days through the savage country of Dalmatia and Sclavonia. The weather was a perpetual fog; the land was mountainous and desolate; the natives were either fugitive or hostile: loose in their religion and government, they refused to furnish provisions or guides; murdered the stragglers; and exercised by night and day the vigilance of the count, who derived more security from the punishment of some captive robbers than from his interview and treaty with the prince of Scodra. His march between Durazzo and Constantinople was harassed, without being stopped, by the peasants and soldiers of the Greek emperor; and the same faint and ambiguous hostility was prepared for the remaining chiefs, who passed the Adriatic from the coast of Italy. Bohemond had arms and vessels, and foresight and discipline; and his name was not forgotten in the provinces of Epirus and Thessaly. Whatever obstacles he encountered were surmounted by his military conduct and the valor of Tancred; and if the Norman prince affected to spare the Greeks, he gorged his soldiers with the full plunder of an heretical castle. The nobles of France pressed forwards with the vain and thoughtless ardor of which their nation has been sometimes accused. From the Alps to Apulia the march of Hugh the Great, of the two Roberts, and of Stephen of Chartres, through a wealthy country, and amidst the applauding Catholics, was a devout or triumphant progress: they kissed the feet of the Roman pontiff; and the golden standard of St. Peter was delivered to the brother of the French monarch. But in this visit of piety and pleasure, they neglected to secure the season, and the means of their embarkation: the winter was insensibly lost: their troops were scattered and corrupted in the towns of Italy. They separately accomplished their passage, regardless of safety or dignity; and within nine months from the feast of the Assumption, the day appointed by Urban, all the Latin princes had reached Constantinople. But the count of Vermandois was produced as a captive; his foremost vessels were scattered by a tempest; and his person, against the law of nations, was detained by the lieutenants of Alexius. Yet the arrival of Hugh had been announced by four-and-twenty knights in golden armor, who commanded the emperor to revere the general of the Latin Christians, the brother of the king of kings.

Such were the troops and the leaders who took up the cross to free the holy sepulchre. Once the common masses were out of the way, they motivated each other through meetings and messages to fulfill their vow and speed up their departure. Their wives and sisters wanted to share in the danger and honor of the pilgrimage. They brought their valuables in the form of bars of silver and gold, while the princes and barons were accompanied by their hunting dogs and hawks for entertainment and to fill their tables. The challenge of feeding so many men and horses led them to split their forces. Their choices and locations determined their routes, and they agreed to gather near Constantinople to begin their campaign against the Turks. From the banks of the Meuse and the Moselle, Godfrey of Bouillon took the direct route through Germany, Hungary, and Bulgaria; as long as he held sole command, every step showed his wisdom and virtue. He was held up for three weeks at the borders of Hungary by a Christian people, to whom the name—or at least the misuse—of the cross was understandably detestable. The Hungarians still bore the scars from the first pilgrims, and in their turn, they had abused the right to defend themselves and retaliate; they had good reason to fear severe revenge from a hero of their own nationality who shared the same cause. However, after considering the motives and events, the noble duke chose to feel compassion for the wrongdoings and misfortunes of his unworthy brothers; and his twelve deputies, messengers of peace, requested safe passage and fair trade on his behalf. To ease their suspicions, Godfrey entrusted himself and later his brother to the goodwill of Carloman, the king of Hungary, who welcomed them with simple but warm hospitality. The treaty was sanctified by their common faith, and a proclamation, under the threat of death, curtailed the anger and license of the Latin soldiers. From Austria to Belgrade, they crossed the plains of Hungary without inflicting or encountering harm; and the presence of Carloman, who hovered nearby with his large cavalry, was a precautionary measure beneficial not only for their safety but for his own as well. They reached the banks of the Save, and as soon as they crossed the river, the king of Hungary returned the hostages and wished them well on their departure, hoping for the success of their mission. With the same careful approach, Godfrey made his way through the forests of Bulgaria and the borders of Thrace, congratulating himself for having nearly completed the first leg of his pilgrimage without drawing his sword against a Christian foe. After an easy and pleasant journey through Lombardy, from Turin to Aquileia, Raymond and his provinces marched for forty days through the wild lands of Dalmatia and Sclavonia. The weather was perpetually foggy; the terrain was rugged and barren; the locals were either fleeing or hostile: loose in their religion and governance, they refused to provide food or guides, murdered stragglers, and constantly tested the vigilance of the count, who felt safer punishing some captured robbers than relying on his meeting and treaty with the prince of Scodra. His march between Durazzo and Constantinople was troubled, yet not fully stopped, by the peasants and soldiers of the Greek emperor; and a similar faint and ambiguous animosity awaited the other leaders crossing the Adriatic from the Italian coast. Bohemond had arms and ships, along with foresight and discipline; his name was not forgotten in the provinces of Epirus and Thessaly. Whatever obstacles he faced were overcome by his military skill and the bravery of Tancred; and even if the Norman prince pretended to spare the Greeks, he filled his soldiers' coffers with the full loot from a heretical stronghold. The French nobles pressed on with the reckless enthusiasm for which their nation is sometimes critiqued. From the Alps to Apulia, the march of Hugh the Great, two Roberts, and Stephen of Chartres, through a prosperous region amidst cheering Catholics, felt like a devout or triumphant journey: they kissed the feet of the Roman pontiff; and the golden standard of St. Peter was handed to the brother of the French king. But during this visit of devotion and pleasure, they neglected to secure the timing and means for their embarkation; the winter slowly slipped away: their troops became scattered and disheartened in the towns of Italy. Each one managed to cross over individually, disregarding safety or respect; and within nine months from the feast of the Assumption, the date set by Urban, all the Latin princes reached Constantinople. However, the count of Vermandois was captured; his leading ships were lost in a storm; and he himself was held against the laws of nations by the lieutenants of Alexius. Yet, Hugh's arrival was heralded by twenty-four knights in golden armor, who commanded the emperor to honor the leader of the Latin Christians, the brother of the king of kings.

In some oriental tale I have read 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, whose name has already appeared in this history, and whose conduct is so differently represented by his daughter Anne, and by the Latin writers. In the council of Placentia, his ambassadors had solicited a moderate succor, perhaps of ten thousand soldiers, but he was astonished by the approach of so many potent chiefs and fanatic nations. The emperor fluctuated between hope and fear, between timidity and courage; but in the crooked policy which he mistook for wisdom, I cannot believe, I cannot discern, that he maliciously conspired against the life or honor of the French heroes. 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 Bosphorus, their quarters were assigned among the gardens and palaces on the shores of that narrow sea. But an incurable 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 Bosphorus, 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.

In some oriental tale I've read, there's a fable about a shepherd who was destroyed by getting exactly what he wished for: he prayed for water, and the Ganges flooded his fields, sweeping away his flock and cottage. Such was the fate, or at least the fear, of the Greek emperor Alexius Comnenus, whose name has already appeared in this story, and whose actions are portrayed so differently by his daughter Anne and the Latin writers. In the council of Placentia, his ambassadors requested a modest assistance, perhaps ten thousand soldiers, but he was stunned by the arrival of so many powerful leaders and fanatical nations. The emperor was torn between hope and fear, between cowardice and bravery; yet in the twisted policies he mistook for wisdom, I cannot believe or see that he plotted against the lives or honor of the French heroes out of malice. The chaotic masses led by Peter the Hermit were like savage beasts, completely lacking humanity and reason; it was impossible for Alexius to either prevent or lament their destruction. The troops of Godfrey and his peers were less contemptible but still suspicious to the Greek emperor. Their motives could be pure and pious, but he was just as worried about the ambitious Bohemond and clueless about the leaders from across the Alps. The French were reckless and headstrong; they could be tempted by the luxury and wealth of Greece and fueled by their belief in their unbeatable strength, risking forgetting Jerusalem in the allure of Constantinople. After a long march and painful hunger, Godfrey's troops set up camp in the plains of Thrace; they were outraged to hear that their brother, the count of Vermandois, was imprisoned by the Greeks, and their reluctant duke had to allow them some freedom to retaliate and pillage. They were calmed by Alexius's submission; he promised to supply their camp, and as they refused to cross the Bosphorus in the midst of winter, their quarters were set up among the gardens and palaces along that narrow sea. But a deep-seated jealousy still festered between the two nations, who looked down on each other as slaves and barbarians. Ignorance breeds suspicion, and that suspicion flared up into daily provocations: prejudice is blind, hunger is deaf; and Alexius was accused of planning to starve or attack the Latins in a precarious position, surrounded by water on all sides. Godfrey sounded his trumpets, broke through their defenses, spread across the plain, and taunted the outskirts; but the gates of Constantinople were heavily fortified, the walls packed with archers, and after a fierce battle, both sides listened to the call for peace and religion. The emperor's gifts and promises gradually calmed the fierce spirits of the western strangers; as a Christian warrior, he reignited their passion for their holy mission, which he committed to support with his troops and resources. When spring arrived, Godfrey was convinced to take up a comfortable and bountiful camp in Asia; and as soon as he crossed the Bosphorus, the Greek ships were abruptly called back to the other shore. This same strategy was repeated with the next leaders, who were influenced by the example and weakened by the departure of their senior companions. With his cleverness and diligence, Alexius thwarted any two of the allied armies from gathering at the same time under the walls of Constantinople; and before Pentecost, not a single Latin pilgrim was left on the European coast.

The same arms which threatened Europe might deliver Asia, and repel the Turks from the neighboring shores of the Bosphorus and Hellespont. The fair provinces from Nice 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 pride of Hugh of Vermandois was soothed by the honors of his captivity; and in the brother of the French king, the example of submission was prevalent and weighty. In the mind of Godfrey of Bouillon every human consideration was subordinate to the glory of God and the success of the crusade. He had firmly resisted the temptations of Bohemond and Raymond, who urged the attack and conquest of Constantinople. Alexius esteemed his virtues, deservedly named him the champion of the empire, and dignified his homage with the filial name and the rights of adoption. The hateful Bohemond was received as a true and ancient ally; and if the emperor reminded him of former hostilities, it was only to praise the valor that he had displayed, and the glory that he had acquired, in the fields of Durazzo and Larissa. The son of Guiscard was lodged and entertained, and served with Imperial pomp: one day, as he passed through the gallery of the palace, a door was carelessly left open to expose a pile of gold and silver, of silk and gems, of curious and costly furniture, that was heaped, in seeming disorder, from the floor to the roof of the chamber. "What conquests," exclaimed the ambitious miser, "might not be achieved by the possession of such a treasure!"—"It is your own," replied a Greek attendant, who watched the motions of his soul; and Bohemond, after some hesitation, condescended to accept this magnificent present. The Norman was flattered by the assurance of an independent principality; and Alexius eluded, rather than denied, his daring demand of the office of great domestic, or general of the East. The two Roberts, the son of the conqueror of England, and the kinsmen of three queens, bowed in their turn before the Byzantine throne. A private letter of Stephen of Chartres attests his admiration of the emperor, the most excellent and liberal of men, who taught him to believe that he was a favorite, and promised to educate and establish his youngest son. In his southern province, the count of St. Giles and Thoulouse faintly recognized the supremacy of the king of France, a prince of a foreign nation and language. At the head of a hundred thousand men, he declared that he was the soldier and servant of Christ alone, and that the Greek might be satisfied with an equal treaty of alliance and friendship. His obstinate resistance enhanced the value and the price of his submission; and he shone, says the princess Anne, among the Barbarians, as the sun amidst the stars of heaven. His disgust of the noise and insolence of the French, his suspicions of the designs of Bohemond, the emperor imparted to his faithful Raymond; and that aged statesman might clearly discern, that however false in friendship, he was sincere in his enmity. The spirit of chivalry was last subdued in the person of Tancred; and none could deem themselves dishonored by the imitation of that gallant knight. He disdained the gold and flattery of the Greek monarch; assaulted in his presence an insolent patrician; escaped to Asia in the habit of a private soldier; and yielded with a sigh to the authority of Bohemond, and the interest of the Christian cause. The best and most ostensible reason was the impossibility of passing the sea and accomplishing their vow, without the license and the vessels of Alexius; but they cherished a secret hope, that as soon as they trod the continent of Asia, their swords would obliterate their shame, and dissolve the engagement, which on his side might not be very faithfully performed. 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.

The same weapons that threatened Europe could liberate Asia and drive the Turks from the nearby shores of the Bosphorus and Hellespont. The beautiful provinces from Nice to Antioch were recently part of the Roman emperor's territory, and his long-standing claim still covered the kingdoms of Syria and Egypt. In his excitement, Alexius entertained, or pretended, the ambitious hope of taking his new allies to overthrow the Eastern thrones; however, calmer reasoning discouraged him from placing himself at the mercy of unknown and lawless Barbarians. His wisdom, or pride, was satisfied with securing an oath of loyalty and fidelity from the French princes, along with a formal promise that they would either restore or keep their Asian conquests as humble and loyal vassals of the Roman Empire. Their independent spirit was ignited at the mention of this foreign and voluntary servitude: they gradually succumbed to clever uses of gifts and flattery, and the first converts became the most persuasive and effective recruiters to spread the shame. Hugh of Vermandois's pride was soothed by the honors of his captivity, and in the brother of the French king, the example of submission was influential and significant. In Godfrey of Bouillon's mind, all human considerations were secondary to the glory of God and the success of the crusade. He firmly resisted the temptations of Bohemond and Raymond, who urged an attack and conquest of Constantinople. Alexius respected his virtues, rightfully named him the champion of the empire, and honored his allegiance with a familial title and the rights of adoption. The despicable Bohemond was welcomed as a true and longstanding ally; and if the emperor reminded him of past conflicts, it was merely to praise the bravery he had shown and the glory he had earned in the battles of Durazzo and Larissa. The son of Guiscard was housed, entertained, and served with imperial splendor. One day, as he walked through the palace gallery, a door was carelessly left open, revealing a chaotic pile of gold and silver, silk and gems, and elaborate and costly furniture stacked from floor to ceiling in the room. "What conquests," exclaimed the ambitious miser, "could be achieved with such treasure!"—"It's yours," replied a Greek attendant, keenly observing his reaction; and Bohemond, after some hesitation, agreed to accept this lavish gift. The Norman was pleased by the promise of an independent principality, and Alexius skillfully dodged, rather than outright denied, his bold request for the position of chief domestic or general of the East. The two Roberts, the son of the conqueror of England and the relatives of three queens, bowed in their turn before the Byzantine throne. A private letter from Stephen of Chartres shows his admiration for the emperor, the most excellent and generous of men, who convinced him that he was a favorite and promised to educate and set up his youngest son. In his southern territory, the count of St. Gilles and Toulouse slightly recognized the authority of the king of France, a prince of a foreign nation and language. Leading a hundred thousand men, he declared that he was a soldier and servant of Christ alone and that the Greek could be satisfied with an equal treaty of alliance and friendship. His stubborn resistance increased the worth and price of his submission; and he shone, as Princess Anne would say, among the Barbarians like the sun among the stars of heaven. His disdain for the noise and arrogance of the French and his doubts about Bohemond's intentions were shared with his loyal advisor Raymond; and the seasoned statesman could clearly see that, however false in friendship, Bohemond was sincere in his enmity. The spirit of chivalry was finally subdued in Tancred, and no one felt dishonored by emulating that brave knight. He rejected the riches and flattery from the Greek monarch, confronted an arrogant patrician in his presence, escaped to Asia disguised as a private soldier, and reluctantly submitted to the authority of Bohemond and the interests of the Christian cause. The most obvious reason for their homage was the impossibility of crossing the sea and fulfilling their vow without Alexius's permission and ships; but they secretly hoped that once they set foot on the Asian continent, their swords would erase their shame and nullify the commitment, which might not be very faithfully honored on his part. The ceremony of their homage was satisfying to a people who had long viewed pride as a substitute for power. High on his throne, the emperor sat silent and unmoving: his majesty was revered by the Latin princes; and they submitted to kiss either his feet or his knees, a humiliation that their own writers are embarrassed to acknowledge and unable to deny.

Private or public interest suppressed the murmurs of the dukes and counts; but a French baron (he is supposed to be Robert of Paris ) presumed to ascend the throne, and to place himself by the side of Alexius. The sage reproof of Baldwin provoked him to exclaim, in his barbarous idiom, "Who is this rustic, that keeps his seat, while so many valiant captains are standing round him?" The emperor maintained his silence, dissembled his indignation, and questioned his interpreter concerning the meaning of the words, which he partly suspected from the universal language of gesture and countenance. Before the departure of the pilgrims, he endeavored to learn the name and condition of the audacious baron. "I am a Frenchman," replied Robert, "of the purest and most ancient nobility of my country. All that I know is, that there is a church in my neighborhood, the resort of those who are desirous of approving their valor in single combat. Till an enemy appears, they address their prayers to God and his saints. That church I have frequently visited. But never have I found an antagonist who dared to accept my defiance." Alexius dismissed the challenger with some prudent advice for his conduct in the Turkish warfare; and history repeats with pleasure this lively example of the manners of his age and country.

Private or public interests silenced the whispers of the dukes and counts; but a French baron (thought to be Robert of Paris) dared to step forward and position himself beside Alexius. Baldwin's wise rebuke prompted him to shout in his rough tongue, "Who is this peasant, sitting while so many brave warriors stand around him?" The emperor kept quiet, masked his anger, and asked his interpreter what the words meant, which he partly guessed from the common language of gestures and expressions. Before the pilgrims left, he tried to find out the name and background of the bold baron. "I am a Frenchman," Robert replied, "of the purest and oldest nobility in my country. All I know is that there’s a church nearby where people go to prove their bravery in single combat. Until an enemy shows up, they pray to God and his saints. I've visited that church many times. But I've never encountered anyone brave enough to accept my challenge." Alexius sent the challenger away with some wise advice on how to act in the Turkish conflicts; and history happily recalls this vivid example of the customs of his time and place.

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 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 and 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 is recovered from his surprise, I 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, I 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 Nice. 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 Anne: 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 labor under the same doubt of a vague and indefinite magnitude; but I am inclined to believe, that a larger number has never been contained within the lines of a single camp, than at the siege of Nice, 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 reënforcement: 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. Had not superstition condemned the sacrilegious prudence of depriving the poorest or weakest Christian of the merit of the pilgrimage, the useless crowd, with mouths but without hands, might have been stationed in the Greek empire, till their companions had opened and secured the way of the Lord. A small remnant of the pilgrims, who passed the Bosphorus, was permitted to visit the holy sepulchre. Their northern constitution was scorched by the rays, and infected by the vapors, of a Syrian sun. They consumed, with heedless prodigality, their stores of water and provision: their numbers exhausted the inland country: the sea was remote, the Greeks were unfriendly, and the Christians of every sect fled before the voracious and cruel rapine of their brethren. In the dire necessity of famine, they sometimes roasted and devoured the flesh of their infant or adult captives. Among the Turks and Saracens, the idolaters of Europe were rendered more odious by the name and reputation of Cannibals; the spies, who introduced themselves into the kitchen of Bohemond, were shown several human bodies turning on the spit: and the artful Norman encouraged a report, which increased at the same time the abhorrence and the terror of the infidels.

The conquest of Asia was carried out and completed by Alexander, with thirty-five thousand Macedonians and Greeks; his best asset was the strength and discipline of his infantry phalanx. The main force of the crusaders was their cavalry, and when gathered on the plains of Bithynia, the knights and their mounted warriors totaled one hundred thousand fully armed soldiers, equipped with helmets and chain mail. The worth of these troops demanded a strict and accurate account; the best of European knighthood could initially provide this powerful group of heavy cavalry. Some infantry might be enlisted as scouts, pioneers, and archers, but the mixed crowd was lost in disarray; we rely not on verified accounts but on the beliefs and imaginations of a chaplain for Count Baldwin, who estimated six hundred thousand armed pilgrims, not counting the priests and monks, women, and children of the Latin camp. Readers might be taken aback, and before they catch their breath, I’ll add, based on the same testimony, that if everyone who took the cross had truly fulfilled their vow, over six million would have traveled from Europe to Asia. Amid this overwhelming faith, I find some comfort from a more insightful and reflective writer, who, after reviewing the cavalry, critiques the naivety of the priest of Chartres and even questions whether the Cisalpine regions (according to a French perspective) could possibly produce and support such incredible masses. A skeptical viewpoint will recall that many of these religious volunteers never even reached Constantinople or Nice. The influence of enthusiasm is unpredictable and fleeting: many were held back at home due to reason or cowardice, poverty or weakness; and many were thwarted by unforeseen obstacles that proved insurmountable for these naive fanatics. The harsh lands of Hungary and Bulgaria were littered with their remains: their front line was massacred by the Turkish sultan; the initial losses from battle, climate, or fatigue have already been recorded at three hundred thousand men. Yet the countless survivors who marched onward, pursued the holy pilgrimage, astonished both themselves and the Greeks. The richness of her language struggles to express the experiences of Princess Anne; metaphors of locusts, leaves and flowers, the sands of the sea, or the stars in the sky only partially capture what she witnessed and heard; and the daughter of Alexius exclaims that Europe was uprooted and thrown against Asia. The ancient armies of Darius and Xerxes suffer from similar uncertainties about their immense size; however, I believe no larger group has ever gathered within the confines of a single camp than at the siege of Nice, the first operation of the Latin princes. Their motivations, characters, and weapons have already been outlined. The largest contingent of their troops were natives of France: the Low Countries, the Rhine's banks, and Apulia sent powerful reinforcements; some bands of adventurers came from Spain, Lombardy, and England, while from the distant bogs and mountains of Ireland or Scotland emerged some naked and savage zealots, fierce at home but ineffective in battle abroad. Had superstition not condemned the sacrilegious prudence of depriving the poorest or weakest Christian of the benefits of pilgrimage, the useless throng, with mouths but without means, might have remained in the Greek empire until their companions had opened and secured the Lord’s way. A small remnant of the pilgrims who crossed the Bosphorus was allowed to visit the holy sepulchre. Their northern bodies were scorched by the sun and infected by the mists of Syria. They wasted their supplies of water and food carelessly; their numbers drained the local resources: the sea was far away, the Greeks were hostile, and Christians of every sect fled before the greedy and cruel violence of their own brothers. In desperate hunger, they sometimes roasted and consumed their captured infants or adults. Among the Turks and Saracens, the idolaters of Europe were made even more detestable by being called Cannibals; spies who infiltrated Bohemond's kitchen witnessed several human bodies roasting on a spit: and the cunning Norman fanned a rumor that simultaneously heightened both the hatred and fear of the infidels.





Chapter LVIII: The First Crusade.—Part IV.

I have expiated with pleasure on the first steps of the crusaders, as they paint the manners and character of Europe: but I 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 neighborhood 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 Kilidge-Arslan, or Soliman, of the race of Seljuk, 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 Nice; 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 Nice were covered by a deep ditch, and flanked by three hundred and seventy 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 valor; but their valor was sullied by cruelty, and their emulation degenerated into envy and civil discord. In the siege of Nice, the arts and engines of antiquity were employed by the Latins; the mine and the battering-ram, the tortoise, and the belfrey or movable turret, artificial fire, and the catapult and balist, the sling, and the crossbow for the casting of stones and darts. In the space of seven weeks much labor 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; Nice 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 honor 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 Soliman had been honorably restored without ransom; and the emperor's generosity to the miscreants was interpreted as treason to the Christian cause.

I have happily reflected on the early journeys of the crusaders, as they illustrate the customs and character of Europe. However, I will shorten the lengthy and monotonous account of their aimless endeavors, which were carried out through brute force and described out of ignorance. Starting from their first position near Nicomedia, they moved forward in groups, crossed the limited boundary of the Greek empire, opened a path through the hills, and began their holy war against the Turkish sultan by laying siege to his capital. His kingdom of Roum stretched from the Hellespont to the borders of Syria and blocked the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. His name was Kilidge-Arslan, or Soliman, from the Seljuk lineage, and he was the son of the first conqueror. As he defended a land the Turks considered their own, even his enemies acknowledged his worth, and he is known to future generations because of them. Following the initial surge of the conflict, he left his family and treasure in Nice and retreated to the mountains with fifty thousand cavalry. He attacked the camps and positions of the Christian besiegers twice, who formed an incomplete circle stretching over six miles. The high and sturdy walls of Nice were surrounded by a deep ditch and reinforced by three hundred and seventy towers. On the edge of Christendom, the Muslims were trained for battle and driven by their faith. In front of this city, the French princes took their positions and carried out their assaults without any coordination or hierarchy. Competition fueled their courage, but this courage was tainted by brutality, and their rivalry turned into jealousy and internal conflict. During the siege of Nice, the Latins used the ancient arts and machinery; they employed mining, battering rams, tortoises, movable towers, artificial fire, and devices like the catapult and balist, along with slings and crossbows for launching stones and arrows. Over the course of seven weeks, a lot of effort and blood were spent, and some progress was made—especially by Count Raymond—on the side of the besiegers. However, the Turks could prolong their resistance and ensure their escape as long as they controlled Lake Ascanius, located several miles to the west of the city. Alexius's wisdom and diligence provided the means for conquest; numerous boats were transported on sledges from the sea to the lake, filled with some of his best archers. They intercepted the flight of the sultan's wife; Nice was besieged by both land and water, and a Greek emissary convinced the residents to accept his master's protection, persuading them to surrender in time to avoid the wrath of the European savages. Just at the moment of victory—or at least hope—the crusaders, eager for blood and loot, were intimidated by the Imperial banner flying from the citadel; and Alexius kept this vital conquest closely guarded. The chiefs’ discontent was quelled by either honor or self-interest, and after a nine-day pause, they set off towards Phrygia under the command of a Greek general, whom they suspected of secretly colluding with the sultan. The sultan's wife and his key servants had been returned honorably without ransom, and the emperor's kindness towards the miscreants was seen as treachery to the Christian cause.

Soliman 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 Turkman hordes encamped round his standard; and his whole force is loosely stated by the Christians at two hundred, or even three hundred and sixty thousand 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 valor, 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 succor, with the count of Vermandois, and sixty thousand horse; and was followed by Raymond of Tholouse, 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. Their encounter was varied, and balanced by the contrast of arms and discipline; of the direct charge, and wheeling evolutions; of the couched lance, and the brandished javelin; of a weighty broadsword, and a crooked sabre; of cumbrous armor, and thin flowing robes; and of the long Tartar bow, and the arbalist or crossbow, a deadly weapon, yet unknown to the Orientals. As long as the horses were fresh, and the quivers full, Soliman 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 Soliman was pillaged; and in the variety of precious spoil, the curiosity of the Latins was amused with foreign arms and apparel, and the new aspect of dromedaries and camels. The importance of the victory was proved by the hasty retreat of the sultan: reserving ten thousand guards of the relics of his army, Soliman 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 finding either 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. As the pilgrims passed over a desert, where a draught of water is exchanged for silver, they were tormented by intolerable thirst; and on the banks of the first rivulet, their haste and intemperance were still more pernicious to the disorderly throng. They climbed with toil and danger the steep and slippery sides of Mount Taurus; many of the soldiers cast away their arms to secure their footsteps; and had not terror preceded their van, the long and trembling file might have been driven down the precipice by a handful of resolute enemies. Two of their most respectable chiefs, the duke of Lorraine and the count of Tholouse, were carried in litters: Raymond was raised, as it is said by miracle, from a hopeless malady; and Godfrey had been torn by a bear, as he pursued that rough and perilous chase in the mountains of Pisidia.

Soliman was more irritated than discouraged by the loss of his capital. He rallied his subjects and allies against this unusual invasion by the Western Barbarians. The Turkish emirs answered the call of loyalty and faith; the Turkman hordes gathered around his banner; and Christians estimated his entire force to be loosely at two hundred or even three hundred sixty thousand cavalry. Yet, he patiently waited until the enemy had crossed the sea and the Greek frontier; staying on the flanks, he observed their careless and confident advance in two columns, out of sight of each other. A few miles before they could reach Dorylæum in Phrygia, the left and smaller division was caught off guard, attacked, and almost overwhelmed by the Turkish cavalry. The heat, the storm of arrows, and the brutal assault overwhelmed the crusaders; they lost their formation and confidence, and the desperate fight was upheld more by the personal bravery of Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy than by military strategy. They were revitalized by the welcome sight of Duke Godfrey, who rushed to their aid with the Count of Vermandois and sixty thousand cavalry; he was followed by Raymond of Tholouse, the Bishop of Puy, and the rest of the holy army. Without pausing, they reformed and advanced for a second battle. They were met with equal determination; it was acknowledged by both sides, in their shared disdain for the unwarrior-like peoples of Greece and Asia, that the Turks and the Franks were the only nations worthy of being called soldiers. Their clash was marked by varied tactics, contrasting weapons and styles; the direct charge versus swift maneuvers; the spear versus the javelin; the heavy broadsword versus the curved sabre; heavy armor versus light flowing robes; and the long Tartar bow against the crossbow, a deadly yet unfamiliar weapon to the Easterners. As long as the horses remained fresh and quivers were full, Soliman held the advantage; four thousand Christians fell to the Turkish arrows. By evening, speed gave way to strength: on both sides, troop numbers were at least equal to what the ground could accommodate or any general could command; but while maneuvering around hills, the last division of Raymond and his locals unexpectedly found itself at the back of a weary enemy, which decided the extended fight. Besides a large unnamed number, three thousand Pagan knights died in the battle and pursuit; Soliman's camp was plundered; and among the diverse valuable spoils, the Latin soldiers were intrigued by foreign weapons and clothing, as well as by the new sight of dromedaries and camels. The significance of the victory was highlighted by the swift retreat of the sultan: preserving ten thousand guards from his remnants, Soliman abandoned the kingdom of Roum and hurried to seek help and rouse the anger of his Eastern allies. In a five hundred mile march, the crusaders crossed Lesser Asia, through a devastated landscape and abandoned towns, finding neither friend nor foe. A geographer might chart the locations of Dorylæum, Antioch of Pisidia, Iconium, Archelais, and Germanicia, comparing those classical names with the modern titles of Eskishehr, the old city; Akshehr, the white city; Cogni, Erekli, and Marash. As the pilgrims traversed a desert where a drink of water costs silver, they suffered from unbearable thirst; and at the first stream's banks, their rush and lack of moderation proved even more damaging to the disorganized crowd. They struggled up the steep and treacherous slopes of Mount Taurus; many soldiers discarded their weapons to steady themselves; and had fear not driven their front line, the long and shaky column might have been pushed over the edge by a handful of determined foes. Two of their most respected leaders, the Duke of Lorraine and the Count of Tholouse, were carried in litters; Raymond was reportedly raised, by a miracle, from a dire illness; and Godfrey had been injured by a bear while pursuing that rough and dangerous prey in the mountains of Pisidia.

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. Honor 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 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.

To ease the general chaos, Bohemond's cousin and Godfrey's brother were separated from the main army with their respective groups of five and seven hundred knights. They swiftly swept through the hills and coast of Cilicia, from Cogni to the Syrian gates: the Norman flag was first raised on the walls of Tarsus and Malmistra; but Baldwin's arrogant injustice eventually provoked the patient and generous Italian, leading them to draw their blessed swords against each other in a private and disgraceful feud. Honor motivated Tancred, while fame was the prize; however, luck favored his more selfish rival. Baldwin was called to help a Greek or Armenian tyrant who had been allowed to rule over the Christians of Edessa under the Turkish oppression. Baldwin took on the role of his son and champion: but as soon as he was welcomed into the city, he incited the people to murder his father, seized the throne and treasure, expanded his conquests over the Armenian hills and the Mesopotamian plain, and established the first principality of the Franks or Latins, which lasted fifty-four years across the Euphrates.

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: the love of arms and the holy sepulchre urged them to advance; and reason perhaps was on the side of resolution, since every hour of delay abates the fame and force of the invader, and multiplies the resources of defensive war. The capital of Syria was protected by the River Orontes; and the iron bridge, of nine arches, derives its name from the massy gates of the two towers which are constructed at either end. They were opened by the sword of the duke of Normandy: his victory gave entrance to three hundred thousand crusaders, an account which may allow some scope for losses and desertion, but which clearly detects much exaggeration in the review of Nice. In the description of Antioch, it is not easy to define a middle term between her ancient magnificence, under the successors of Alexander and Augustus, and the modern aspect of Turkish desolation. The Tetrapolis, or four cities, if they retained their name and position, must have left a large vacuity in a circumference of twelve miles; and that measure, as well as the number of four hundred towers, are not perfectly consistent with the five gates, so often mentioned in the history of the siege. Yet Antioch must have still flourished as a great and populous capital. At the head of the Turkish emirs, Baghisian, a veteran chief, commanded in the place: his garrison was composed of six or seven thousand horse, and fifteen or twenty thousand foot: one hundred thousand Moslems are said to have fallen by the sword; and their numbers were probably inferior to the Greeks, Armenians, and Syrians, who had been no more than fourteen years the slaves of the house of Seljuk. From the remains of a solid and stately wall, it appears to have arisen to the height of threescore feet in the valleys; and wherever less art and labor had been applied, the ground was supposed to be defended by the river, the morass, and the mountains. Notwithstanding these 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 pervious points of attack; and in a siege that was formed about the middle of October, the vigor of the execution could alone justify the boldness of the attempt. Whatever strength and valor 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. As Robert of Normandy rode against his antagonist, "I devote thy head," he piously exclaimed, "to the dæmons of hell;" and that head was instantly cloven to the breast by the resistless stroke of his descending falchion. But the reality or the 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. In the slow and successive labors of a siege, the crusaders were supine and ignorant, without skill to contrive, or money to purchase, or industry to use, the artificial engines and implements of assault. In the conquest of Nice, they had been powerfully assisted by the wealth and knowledge of the Greek emperor: his absence was poorly supplied by some Genoese and Pisan vessels, that were attracted by religion or trade to the coast of Syria: the stores were scanty, the return precarious, and the communication difficult and dangerous. 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: Phirouz, a Syrian renegado, had acquired the favor of the emir and the command of three towers; and the merit of his repentance disguised to the Latins, and perhaps to himself, the foul design of perfidy and treason. A secret correspondence, for their mutual interest, was soon established between Phirouz and the prince of Tarento; and 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 walls: 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 victims 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, which they might safely report to have consisted of six hundred thousand men. Their supernatural allies I 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 unskilful and presumptuous adversaries. The battle is described with as much disorder as it was fought; but we may observe the tent of Kerboga, a movable and spacious palace, enriched with the luxury of Asia, and capable of holding above two thousand persons; we may distinguish his three thousand guards, who were cased, the horse as well as the men, in complete steel.

Before the Franks could enter Syria, the entire summer and even autumn were completely wasted. The siege of Antioch, or the army's separation and rest during the winter, was hotly debated in their council. Their desire for battle and the holy sepulcher pushed them to move forward; and perhaps reason supported their determination, as every hour of delay diminishes the fame and strength of the invader while increasing the resources of defensive warfare. The capital of Syria was guarded by the River Orontes, and the iron bridge, with its nine arches, got its name from the massive gates of the two towers at either end. These gates were opened by the sword of the Duke of Normandy, and his victory allowed entrance to three hundred thousand crusaders, a figure that might account for losses and desertions but clearly shows exaggeration in the account of Nice. Describing Antioch is challenging; it can be tough to find a middle ground between its ancient greatness under Alexander's and Augustus's successors and the current state of Turkish ruin. The Tetrapolis, or four cities, if they kept their name and location, must have left a large emptiness in a twelve-mile circumference; this measurement, as well as the mention of four hundred towers, doesn't quite match the five gates frequently referenced in the history of the siege. Still, Antioch must have continued to thrive as a major and populous city. Leading the Turkish emirs was Baghisian, a seasoned commander: his garrison consisted of six to seven thousand cavalry and fifteen to twenty thousand infantry. It's said that one hundred thousand Muslims fell in battle, although their numbers were likely less than those of the Greeks, Armenians, and Syrians, who had been subjects of the Seljuk dynasty for only fourteen years. From the remains of a strong and impressive wall, it seems it rose to about sixty feet high in the valleys; wherever less skill and effort had been applied, the area was thought to be defended by the river, marsh, and mountains. Despite these fortifications, the city had been captured multiple times by Persians, Arabs, Greeks, and Turks; such a large perimeter likely had many accessible points of attack. In a siege that began around mid-October, only the intensity of the attack could justify the boldness of the attempt. Whatever strength and courage could achieve in battle were shown by the champions of the cross: in various instances of sallying out, foraging, and attacking or defending supply routes, they often claimed victory, and the only complaint being that their feats were occasionally inflated beyond the limits of probability and truth. The sword of Godfrey cleaved a Turk from shoulder to hip, with one half falling to the ground while the other was carried off by his horse to the city gate. As Robert of Normandy charged at his opponent, he piously exclaimed, "I dedicate your head to the demons of hell"; that head was instantly cleaved in two by the unstoppable swing of his descending sword. But the reality of such immense prowess must have forced the Muslims to stay behind their walls: and against those earthen or stone walls, swords and lances were ineffective weapons. In the slow and incremental hardships of a siege, the crusaders were inactive and uninformed, lacking the skill to devise strategies, money to buy supplies, or the effort to use the tools and equipment for assault. In the conquest of Nice, they had received significant help from the wealth and expertise of the Greek emperor; his absence wasn’t well compensated by a few Genoese and Pisan ships, drawn to the coast of Syria by religion or trade: the supplies were limited, the income uncertain, and communication risky and challenging. Laziness or weakness prevented the Franks from investing the whole perimeter, and the constant access of two gates alleviated the needs and replenished the city’s garrison. After seven months, following the devastation of their cavalry and immense losses due to famine, desertion, and exhaustion, the progress of the crusaders was hardly noticeable, and their chances of success seemed distant if it weren’t for the cunning and ambitious Bohemond, the Latin Ulysses, who resorted to trickery. The Christians of Antioch were numerous and discontented: Phirouz, a Syrian turncoat, had gained the emir's favor and commanded three towers; his supposed repentance concealed from the Latins, and perhaps from himself, the treachery and betrayal he was plotting. A secret collaboration formed quickly between Phirouz and the prince of Taranto for their mutual benefit; Bohemond announced in the leaders' council that he could hand over the city to them. However, he claimed the sovereignty of Antioch as the reward for his service; the proposal, initially dismissed due to jealousy, was ultimately forced out of desperation from his peers. The night raid was carried out by the French and Norman princes, who personally climbed the scaling ladders thrown from the walls: their new ally, after the killing of his more principled brother, welcomed and introduced the servants of Christ; the army poured through the gates, and the Muslims soon realized that while mercy was out of reach, resistance was futile. But the citadel still refused to yield; and soon the beleaguered defenders found themselves surrounded by the countless forces of Kerboga, the prince of Mosul, who, with twenty-eight Turkish leaders, advanced to rescue Antioch. The Christians spent twenty-five days on the brink of destruction, and the proud lieutenant of the caliph and the sultan left them with a stark choice between servitude or death. In this dire situation, they gathered the remnants of their strength, launched an attack from the town, and on one memorable day, wiped out or scattered the host of Turks and Arabs, which they could safely report numbered six hundred thousand. I will now consider their supernatural allies: the human factors behind the victory at Antioch were the Franks’ fearless desperation and the surprise, discord, and possibly the errors of their inexperienced and overconfident enemies. The battle is recorded as chaotically as it was fought; but we can note Kerboga's tent, a grand and mobile palace adorned with Asian luxury, large enough to accommodate over two thousand people; we can also recognize his three thousand guards, clad in full steel, horses and men alike.

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; and our imagination may suggest the nature of their sufferings and their resources. 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 horse 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 honor and religion was subdued by the desire of life. Among the chiefs, three heroes may be found without fear or reproach: Godfrey of 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 Tholouse 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 scandalized by the fall of Peter the Hermit, who, after arming Europe against Asia, attempted to escape from the penance of a necessary fast. Of the multitude of recreant warriors, the names (says an historian) are blotted from the book of life; and the opprobrious epithet of the rope-dancers was applied to the deserters who dropped in the night from the walls of Antioch. The emperor Alexius, who seemed to advance to the succor of the Latins, was dismayed by the assurance of their hopeless condition. They expected their fate in silent despair; oaths and punishments were tried without effect; and to rouse the soldiers to the defence of the walls, it was found necessary to set fire to their quarters.

During the intense siege and defense of Antioch, the crusaders swung between the highs of victory and the lows of despair; they either feasted in abundance or starved in hunger. A thoughtful observer might think that their faith profoundly influenced their actions—that the soldiers of the cross, tasked with rescuing the holy sepulchre, lived sober and virtuous lives in preparation for the daily contemplation of martyrdom. However, reality shatters this optimistic view; the history of warfare rarely displays such scenes of excess and moral decay as those that unfolded outside the walls of Antioch. The grove of Daphne no longer thrived, but the Syrian air remained thick with the same vices; the Christians fell prey to every temptation, whether natural or shameful; the leaders' authority was ignored; and sermons and decrees were fruitless against the disgraceful actions that were equally harmful to military discipline as they were contrary to Christian values. In the early days of the siege and while occupying Antioch, the Franks squandered the meager supplies that could have lasted weeks or months. The barren land no longer provided for them, and they eventually faced exclusion from it due to the besieging Turks. Disease, a constant companion of scarcity, worsened with the winter rains, summer heat, unhealthy food, and the close quarters of large groups. The horrors of famine and plague are always similar and always revolting, and we can only imagine the extent of their suffering and what little help they received. The little treasure or loot they had left was eagerly spent on the most unwholesome food; it must have been dire for the poor, as after paying three marks of silver for a goat and fifteen for a thin camel, Count of Flanders was reduced to begging for a meal, and Duke Godfrey had to borrow a horse. Sixty thousand cavalry had once been counted in the camp; by the end of the siege, they dwindled to two thousand, and on the day of battle, barely two hundred were ready for action. Physical weakness and mental fear extinguished the pilgrims' fervor; every sense of honor and faith was overwhelmed by the instinct to survive. Among the leaders, three notable figures stood out without shame or reproach: Godfrey of Bouillon, driven by his noble faith; Bohemond, motivated by ambition; and Tancred, who, embodying the true spirit of chivalry, stated that as long as he had forty knights, he would never abandon the mission in Palestine. However, the Count of Toulouse and Provence was suspected of deliberately avoiding hardship; the Duke of Normandy was recalled from the coast by church pressures; Hugh the Great, despite leading the battle's front lines, took the chance to return to France; and Stephen, Count of Chartres, shamefully deserted both the banner he carried and the council he was part of. The soldiers lost heart when William, Viscount of Melun, nicknamed the Carpenter, fled from the clashing blows of battle; and the saints were appalled by Peter the Hermit’s fall, who, after rallying Europe against Asia, sought to escape the necessary fasting he had imposed. Of the many cowardly warriors, the historian notes, their names were erased from the book of life; the disgraceful title of rope-dancers was given to those deserters who slipped away from the walls of Antioch during the night. Emperor Alexius, who appeared ready to assist the Latins, was deterred by the clear hopelessness of their situation. They awaited their fate in silent despair; oaths and punishments offered no results; and to motivate the soldiers to defend the walls, it became necessary to set their quarters on fire.

For their salvation and victory, they were indebted to the same fanaticism which had led them to the brink of ruin. 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 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 valor. Whatever had been the arts, and whatever might be the sentiments of the chiefs, they skilfully improved this fortunate revolution by every aid that discipline and devotion could afford. The soldiers were dismissed to their quarters with an injunction to fortify their minds and bodies for the approaching conflict, freely to bestow their last pittance on themselves and their horses, and to expect with the dawn of day the signal of victory. On the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul, the gates of Antioch were thrown open: a martial psalm, "Let the Lord arise, and let his enemies be scattered!" was chanted by a procession of priests and monks; the battle array was marshalled in twelve divisions, in honor of the twelve apostles; and the holy lance, in the absence of Raymond, was intrusted to the hands of his chaplain. The influence of his relic or trophy, was felt by the servants, and perhaps by the enemies, of Christ; and its potent energy was heightened by an accident, a stratagem, or a rumor, of a miraculous complexion. Three knights, in white garments and resplendent arms, either issued, or seemed to issue, from the hills: the voice of Adhemar, the pope's legate, proclaimed them as the martyrs St. George, St. Theodore, and St. Maurice: the tumult of battle allowed no time for doubt or scrutiny; and the welcome apparition dazzled the eyes or the imagination of a fanatic army. 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 arms which the count of Tholouse 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 clamors and arms and new visions condemned to death and hell the profane sceptics who presumed to scrutinize 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 burnt 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 the 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. Yet the revelation of Antioch is gravely asserted by succeeding historians: and such is the progress of credulity, that miracles most doubtful on the spot, and at the moment, will be received with implicit faith at a convenient distance of time and space.

For their salvation and victory, they were indebted to the same fanaticism that had brought them to the edge of ruin. In such a cause and in such an army, visions, prophecies, and miracles were common and familiar. During the hardships in Antioch, these were repeated with unusual energy and success: St. Ambrose had assured a devout ecclesiastic that two years of trial must come before the time of deliverance and grace; deserters were stopped by the presence and reproaches of Christ himself; the dead had promised to rise and fight alongside their brethren; the Virgin had secured the pardon of their sins; and their confidence was renewed by a visible sign, the timely and magnificent discovery of the holy lance. The strategy of their leaders has been admired in this instance, and might surely be excused; but a pious deception is rarely the result of a coordinated effort among many people; a willing fraudster might rely on the support of the wise and the gullibility of the masses. In the diocese of Marseilles, there was a priest known for his slyness and loose morals, named Peter Bartholemy. He appeared at the door of the council chamber, claiming to have had a vision of St. Andrew, which he repeatedly dreamt about with a dire warning not to suppress the commands of Heaven. "In Antioch," said the apostle, "in the church of my brother St. Peter, near the high altar, is hidden the steel head of the lance that pierced the side of our Redeemer. In three days, that instrument of eternal, and now temporal, salvation will be revealed to his disciples. Search, and you will find: wield it in battle; and that mystical weapon will penetrate the souls of the wicked." The pope's legate, the bishop of Puy, pretended to listen with indifference and skepticism; but the revelation was eagerly accepted by Count Raymond, whom Bartholemy had designated as the protector of the holy lance. The plan was set; and on the third day, after proper prayer and fasting preparations, the priest of Marseilles brought in twelve trusted witnesses, including the count and his chaplain, while the church doors were locked against the enthusiastic crowd. The ground was dug in the designated spot; but the workmen, who took turns, excavated to a depth of twelve feet without finding what they were looking for. In the evening, after Count Raymond had returned to his position, and the tired assistants started to grumble, Bartholemy, in his shirt and bare feet, boldly climbed into the pit; the darkness of the hour and the spot allowed him to hide and place the head of a Saracen lance; and the first sound, the first glint, of the steel was met with devout rapture. The holy lance was pulled from its hiding place, wrapped in a silk and gold veil, and presented for veneration to the crusaders; their anxious anticipation erupted into a collective shout of joy and hope, reigniting the disheartened troops with a fervor for battle. Regardless of the strategies and sentiments of the leaders, they skillfully capitalized on this fortunate turn of events with every means that discipline and devotion could provide. The soldiers were sent to their quarters with instructions to prepare their minds and bodies for the upcoming fight, generously spending their last money on themselves and their horses, and to await the signal of victory with the dawn. On the feast day of St. Peter and St. Paul, the gates of Antioch were thrown open: a martial hymn, “Let the Lord arise, and let his enemies be scattered!” was sung by a procession of priests and monks; the battle formation was organized into twelve divisions, in honor of the twelve apostles; and in the absence of Raymond, the holy lance was entrusted to his chaplain. The influence of this relic or trophy was felt by both Christ’s servants and perhaps his enemies, and its powerful effect was amplified by an incident, a cunning strategy, or a miraculous rumor. Three knights in white armor seemed to emerge from the hills: the voice of Adhemar, the pope's legate, declared them to be the martyrs St. George, St. Theodore, and St. Maurice: the chaos of battle left no time for doubt or scrutiny; and the welcomed appearance dazzled the eyes or imagination of a fanatical army. In the time of danger and triumph, Bartholemy of Marseilles’s revelation was collectively affirmed; but as soon as the immediate need was fulfilled, the personal status and generous arms that the Count of Toulouse gained from guarding the holy lance sparked envy and roused the reason of his rivals. A Norman clerk sought to rigorously analyze, with a philosophical mindset, the truth behind the legend, the details of the discovery, and the character of the prophet; while the devout Bohemond attributed their deliverance solely to the merits and intercession of Christ. For a while, the Provincials defended their national totem with shouts and arms, condemning to death and hell the impious skeptics who dared to question the truth and significance of the discovery. The dominance of disbelief forced the author to submit his life and credibility to God's judgment. A stack of dry wood, four feet high and fourteen long, was built in the center of the camp; the flames burned fiercely, reaching up to thirty feet; while a narrow path of twelve inches was left for the perilous test. The unfortunate priest of Marseilles crossed the fire with skill and speed; but his thighs and belly were burned by the intense heat; he died the next day; and the reasoning of believing minds will take notice of his dying claims of innocence and truth. Some attempts were made by the Provincials to replace the holy lance with a cross, a ring, or a tabernacle, which quickly faded into disdain and forgetfulness. Yet the revelation of Antioch is seriously asserted by later historians: and such is the growth of credulity that miracles, which were highly questionable at the time and place, will be accepted with complete faith at a more convenient distance in time and space.

The prudence or fortune of the Franks had delayed their invasion till the decline of the Turkish empire. Under the manly government of the three first 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 Malek Shaw was disputed by his four sons; their private ambition was insensible of the public danger; and, in the vicissitudes of their fortune, the royal vassals were ignorant, or regardless, of the true object of their allegiance. The twenty-eight emirs who marched with the standard or 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 Aphdal 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 Nice 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 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 the belief of their lost condition, the caliph Mostali despised their arms and imprisoned their deputies: the conquest and victory of Antioch prompted him to solicit those formidable champions with gifts of horses and silk robes, of vases, and purses of gold and silver; and in his estimate of their merit or power, the first place was assigned to Bohemond, and the second to Godfrey. 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 Mahomet; 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.

The caution or luck of the Franks had postponed their invasion until the decline of the Turkish empire. Under the strong leadership of the first three sultans, the kingdoms of Asia were united in peace and justice, and the countless armies they personally commanded were equal in bravery and superior in discipline to the Barbarians of the West. However, by the time of the crusade, Malek Shaw's inheritance was contested by his four sons; their personal ambitions were blind to the public threat, and amid their changing fortunes, the royal vassals were either unaware or indifferent to the true purpose of their loyalty. The twenty-eight emirs marching with the standard of Kerboga were either rivals or adversaries; their hastily assembled forces came from the towns and camps of Mesopotamia and Syria, while the Turkish veterans were engaged or depleted in the civil wars beyond the Tigris. The caliph of Egypt took advantage of this weakness and discord to reclaim his old possessions; his sultan Aphdal besieged Jerusalem and Tyre, drove out the children of Ortok, and reestablished the civil and ecclesiastical authority of the Fatimites in Palestine. They were astonished to hear about the vast armies of Christians that had crossed from Europe to Asia and rejoiced at the sieges and battles that weakened the power of the Turks, their rivals in faith and rule. But those same Christians were also enemies of the prophet; and following the fall of Nice and Antioch, the true reason for their campaign, which became gradually clear, would push them toward the banks of the Jordan or possibly the Nile. A correspondence of letters and diplomatic missions, which rose and fell with the tides of war, was maintained between the throne of Cairo and the Latin camp; and their opposing pride stemmed from ignorance and fervor. The ministers of Egypt declared, either arrogantly or more gently, that their sovereign, the true and rightful leader of the faithful, had liberated Jerusalem from Turkish control. They claimed that pilgrims, if they divided their numbers and laid down their arms, would find a safe and welcoming refuge at the tomb of Jesus. Believing in their hopeless situation, the caliph Mostali dismissed their weapons and imprisoned their envoys; the conquest and victory at Antioch prompted him to appeal to those formidable champions with gifts of horses, silk robes, vases, and purses filled with gold and silver; and in his view of their worth or power, Bohemond was ranked first and Godfrey second. In either case, the response from the crusaders was resolute and consistent: they rejected any inquiry into the personal claims or possessions of Muhammad’s followers; no matter his name or nation, the usurper of Jerusalem was their enemy; and instead of dictating the conditions and terms of their pilgrimage, it was only through a timely surrender of the city and province, their sacred right, that he could earn their alliance or avert their overwhelming and inevitable attack.

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 alternative 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; the domestic feuds, which had been stifled by common fear, were again renewed in acts, or at least in sentiments, of hostility; the fortune of Baldwin and Bohemond excited the envy of their companions; the bravest knights were enlisted for the defence of their new principalities; 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; a sense of honor and religion was rekindled in the spring; and the private soldiers, less susceptible of ambition and jealousy, awakened with angry clamors the indolence of their chiefs. 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 Tripoli, 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 recognized the sacred geography of Lydda, Ramla, Emmaus, and Bethlem, and as soon as they descried the holy city, the crusaders forgot their toils and claimed their reward.

Yet this attack, when they were within sight and reach of their glorious prize, was postponed for over ten months after the defeat of Kerboga. The enthusiasm and bravery of the crusaders were dampened at the moment of victory; instead of advancing to capitalize on the chaos, they quickly scattered to enjoy the luxuries of Syria. The reasons for this strange delay can be traced back to a lack of strength and order. In the challenging and varied service of Antioch, the cavalry was decimated; many thousands of people from all ranks were lost due to famine, sickness, and desertion. A similar surplus of resources led to a third famine, and the combination of excess and hardship resulted in a plague that killed more than fifty thousand pilgrims. Few were capable of commanding, and none were eager to follow orders; the internal conflicts, which had been suppressed by a common fear, reignited with acts, or at least feelings, of hostility. The fortunes of Baldwin and Bohemond sparked jealousy among their peers; the bravest knights were recruited for the defense of their new territories, and Count Raymond drained his troops and resources on a pointless expedition into the heart of Syria. The winter was spent in chaos and strife; a sense of honor and faith was rekindled in the spring, and the common soldiers, less prone to ambition and jealousy, stirred their leaders from their complacency with angry uproar. In May, the remnants of this vast army moved from Antioch to Laodicea: about forty thousand Latins, of whom only fifteen hundred were cavalry and twenty thousand were infantry capable of immediate action. Their easy march continued between Mount Libanus and the coastline, with their needs generously met by the trading ships from Genoa and Pisa; they also received significant contributions from the emirs of Tripoli, Tyre, Sidon, Acre, and Cæsarea, who granted free passage and promised to follow the example of Jerusalem. From Cæsarea, they advanced into the interior; their clerks recognized the sacred geography of Lydda, Ramla, Emmaus, and Bethlehem, and as soon as they glimpsed the holy city, the crusaders forgot their hardships and claimed their reward.





Chapter LVIII: The First Crusade.—Part V.

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. These obstacles were diminished in the age of the crusades. The bulwarks had been completely destroyed and imperfectly restored: the Jews, their nation, and worship, were forever banished; but nature is less changeable than man, and the site of Jerusalem, though somewhat softened and somewhat removed, was still strong against the assaults of an enemy. 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 honor forbade them to resign. Aladin, or Iftikhar, the caliph's lieutenant, was intrusted with the defence: his policy strove to restrain the native Christians by the dread of their own ruin and that of the holy sepulchre; to animate the Moslems by the assurance of temporal and eternal rewards. His garrison is said to have consisted of forty thousand Turks and Arabians; and if he could muster twenty thousand of the inhabitants, it must be confessed that the besieged were more numerous than the besieging army. Had the diminished strength and numbers of the Latins allowed them to grasp the whole circumference of four thousand yards, (about two English miles and a half, ) to what useful purpose should they have descended into the valley of Ben Hinnom and torrent of Cedron, or approach the precipices of the south and east, from whence they had nothing either to hope or fear? Their siege was more reasonably directed against the northern and western sides of the city. Godfrey of 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 Sion, which was no longer included within the precincts of the city. On the fifth day, the crusaders made a general assault, in the fanatic hope of battering down the walls without engines, and of scaling them without ladders. By the 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 labor 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. A repetition of the old complaint of famine may be imputed in some degree to the voracious or disorderly appetite of the Franks; but the stony soil of Jerusalem is almost destitute of water; the scanty springs and hasty torrents were dry in the summer season; nor was the thirst of the besiegers relieved, as in the city, by the artificial supply of cisterns and aqueducts. The circumjacent country is equally destitute of trees for the uses of shade or building, but some large beams were discovered in a cave by the crusaders: a wood near Sichem, the enchanted grove of Tasso, was cut down: the necessary timber was transported to the camp by the vigor and dexterity of Tancred; and the engines were framed by some Genoese artists, who had fortunately landed in the harbor of Jaffa. Two movable turrets were constructed at the expense, and in the stations, of the duke of Lorraine and the count of Tholouse, and rolled forwards with devout labor, not to the most accessible, but to the most neglected, parts of the fortification. Raymond's Tower was reduced to ashes by the fire of the besieged, but his colleague was more vigilant and successful; the enemies were driven by his archers from the rampart; the draw-bridge was let down; and on a Friday, at three in the afternoon, the day and hour of the passion, Godfrey of Bouillon stood victorious on the walls of Jerusalem. His example was followed on every side by the emulation of valor; and about four hundred and sixty years after the conquest of Omar, the holy city was rescued from the Mahometan 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 burnt 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 an humble posture, they ascended the hill of Calvary, amidst the loud anthems of the clergy; kissed the stone which had covered the Savior of the world; and bedewed with tears of joy and penitence the monument of their redemption. This union of the fiercest and most tender passions has been variously considered by two philosophers; by the one, as easy and natural; by the other, as absurd and incredible. Perhaps it is too rigorously applied to the same persons and the same hour; the example of the virtuous Godfrey awakened the piety of his companions; while they cleansed their bodies, they purified their minds; nor shall I believe that the most ardent in slaughter and rapine were the foremost in the procession to the holy sepulchre.

Jerusalem has built a reputation from the number and significance of its famous sieges. It wasn't until after a long and stubborn struggle that Babylon and Rome could overcome the determination of the people, the rugged terrain that could lessen the need for fortifications, and the walls and towers that could fortify even the most open plain. These challenges were reduced during the Crusades. The fortifications had been completely destroyed and poorly restored: the Jews, their nation, and their worship were permanently expelled; but nature is less changeable than humanity, and the location of Jerusalem, though somewhat softened and somewhat altered, was still strong against enemy attacks. From recent experiences in a siege and a three-year occupation, the Saracens from Egypt learned to identify and somewhat address the weaknesses of a place that religion and honor prevented them from abandoning. Aladin, or Iftikhar, the caliph's lieutenant, was put in charge of the defense: his strategy aimed to scare the local Christians into fearing their own destruction and that of the holy sepulchre; to inspire the Muslims with promises of both temporary and eternal rewards. His troops reportedly consisted of forty thousand Turks and Arabs; and if he could mobilize twenty thousand of the locals, it must be acknowledged that the besieged were more numerous than the besieging army. If the reduced strength and numbers of the Latins had allowed them to control the entire perimeter of four thousand yards (about two and a half English miles), what useful purpose would it have served for them to enter the valley of Ben Hinnom and the Kedron stream, or approach the cliffs on the south and east, from which they had nothing to gain or lose? Their siege was more logically focused on the northern and western sides of the city. Godfrey of Bouillon raised his standard on the first rise of Mount Calvary: to the left, the line of attack extended to St. Stephen's gate, continued by Tancred and the two Roberts; and Count Raymond set up his camp from the citadel to the base of Mount Zion, which was no longer part of the city limits. On the fifth day, the crusaders launched a general attack, in a fanatical hope of breaking down the walls without machines and climbing them without ladders. Through sheer force, they broke through the first barrier; but they were driven back in shame and bloodshed to their camp: the influence of visions and prophecies was dulled by the excessive misuse of those sacred strategies; and time and effort proved to be the only means of victory. The duration of the siege was indeed completed in forty days, but they were forty days of suffering and despair. A repeat of the old complaint of hunger can be partially attributed to the greedy or chaotic appetites of the Franks; but the rocky soil of Jerusalem is almost devoid of water; the few springs and quick streams were dry in the summer; nor was the thirst of the besiegers quenched, as it was in the city, by the artificial supply of cisterns and aqueducts. The surrounding area also lacked trees for shade or building supplies, but some large beams were found in a cave by the crusaders: a wood near Sichem, the enchanted grove of Tasso, was cut down: the necessary timber was transported to the camp through the strength and skill of Tancred; and the siege engines were made by some Genoese craftsmen who happened to land in the harbor of Jaffa. Two movable towers were built at the expense and in the locations of the duke of Lorraine and the count of Tholouse, and moved forward with dedicated effort, not to the easiest, but to the most neglected parts of the fortification. Raymond's Tower was set ablaze by the besieged, but his colleague was more alert and successful; the enemies were pushed back by his archers from the ramparts; the drawbridge was lowered; and on a Friday, at three in the afternoon, the hour of the passion, Godfrey of Bouillon stood victorious on the walls of Jerusalem. His example inspired valor all around; and about four hundred sixty years after Omar's conquest, the holy city was freed from Muslim rule. In the plundering of public and private wealth, the adventurers had agreed to respect the exclusive property of the first occupant; and the treasures of the great mosque, seventy lamps, and massive vases of gold and silver rewarded the efforts and showcased the generosity of Tancred. A bloody sacrifice was made by his misguided followers to the God of the Christians: their rage was unyielding, and neither age nor gender could soften it; they indulged in three days of indiscriminate slaughter; and the aftermath of the bodies caused an epidemic. After seventy thousand Muslims were killed and the innocent Jews burned in their synagogue, they still had a number of captives, whom either greed or exhaustion persuaded them to spare. Among these brutal crusaders, only Tancred showed some compassion; yet we can commend Raymond's more selfish mercy, who offered a surrender and safe passage to the garrison of the citadel. The holy sepulchre was now free; and the bloodied victors prepared to fulfill their vow. Barefoot and bareheaded, with remorseful hearts and in a humble stance, they ascended the hill of Calvary, amidst the loud hymns of the clergy; kissed the stone that had covered the Savior of the world; and drenched the monument of their redemption with tears of joy and regret. This combination of the fiercest and most tender emotions has been viewed differently by two philosophers; one sees it as easy and natural; the other finds it absurd and unbelievable. Perhaps it is too strictly assigned to the same people and the same moment; the example of the virtuous Godfrey inspired the piety of his companions; as they cleansed their bodies, they also purified their minds; I cannot believe that the most eager for bloodshed and looting were also the first to participate in the procession to the holy sepulchre.

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 conquests in Palestine. Hugh the Great, and Stephen of Chartres, had retired with some loss of reputation, which they strove to regain by a second crusade and an honorable death. Baldwin was established at Edessa, and Bohemond at Antioch; and two Roberts, the duke of Normandy and the count of Flanders, preferred their fair inheritance in the West to a doubtful competition or a barren sceptre. 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 of 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 Savior 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 vizier 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 Ascalon sealed the establishment of the Latins in Syria, and signalized the valor of the French princes who in this action bade a long farewell to the holy wars. Some glory might be derived from the prodigious inequality of numbers, though I shall not count the myriads of horse and foot on the side of the Fatimites; but, except three thousand Ethiopians or Blacks, who were armed with flails or scourges of iron, the Barbarians of the South fled on the first onset, and afforded a pleasing comparison between the active valor of the Turks and the sloth and effeminacy of the natives of Egypt. 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 at Antioch: the remaining ecclesiastics preserved only the pride and avarice of their character; and their seditious clamors had required that the choice of a bishop should precede that of a king. The revenue and jurisdiction of the lawful 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 at his countrymen to the succor 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 Jaffa; 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.

Eight days after this significant event, which Pope Urban didn’t live to hear about, the Latin leaders moved ahead with electing a king to protect and manage their conquests in Palestine. Hugh the Great and Stephen of Chartres had stepped back with some loss of reputation, which they aimed to regain through a second crusade and a noble death. Baldwin was in Edessa, and Bohemond was in Antioch; meanwhile, the two Roberts, the Duke of Normandy and the Count of Flanders, preferred their stable lands in the West to uncertain competition or a barren throne. The jealousy and ambition of Raymond were criticized by his own followers, and the free, fair, and unanimous voice of the army declared Godfrey of Bouillon as the first and most deserving of the champions of Christendom. His noble spirit accepted a role filled with both danger and glory; however, in a city where his Savior had been crowned with thorns, the devoted pilgrim turned down the title and symbols of royalty, and the founder of the Kingdom of Jerusalem was satisfied with the humble title of Defender and Baron of the Holy Sepulchre. His reign lasted only a year, too brief for the public's well-being, and was interrupted in the first two weeks by a call to battle, due to the approach of the vizier or sultan of Egypt, who had been too slow to stop the events but was eager to avenge the loss of Jerusalem. His complete defeat in the battle of Ascalon solidified Latin control in Syria and highlighted the bravery of the French princes who, in this battle, bid a long farewell to the holy wars. Some glory might be attributed to the significant imbalance in numbers, though I won’t count the thousands of troops on the side of the Fatimites; however, apart from three thousand Ethiopians or Blacks, armed with flails or iron whips, the Southern Barbarians fled at the first attack, providing a stark comparison between the active courage of the Turks and the laziness and weakness of the locals in Egypt. After hanging the sword and flag of the sultan before the holy sepulchre, the new king (he truly deserves the title) embraced his departing companions, managing to keep only three hundred knights and two thousand infantry, along with the brave Tancred, for the defense of Palestine. His rule soon faced a new adversary, the only one against whom Godfrey was timid. Adhemar, the bishop of Puy, who excelled in both wisdom and action, had perished in the last plague at Antioch: the remaining clergy retained only the pride and greed typical of their role; and their rebellious demands insisted that the selection of a bishop should happen before that of a king. The rightful patriarch's wealth and authority were taken over by the Latin clergy: the exclusion of the Greeks and Syrians was justified by accusations of heresy or schism; and, under the oppressive control of their liberators, the Eastern Christians mourned the tolerant rule of the Arabian caliphs. Daimbert, the archbishop of Pisa, had been well-prepared in Rome’s secretive politics: he brought a fleet with his fellow countrymen to assist the Holy Land and was installed, uncontested, as the spiritual and temporal head of the church. The new patriarch quickly took hold of the power that had been earned through the labors and sacrifices of the victorious pilgrims; both Godfrey and Bohemond agreed to accept their feudal lands from him. Yet, this was not enough; Daimbert claimed rightful ownership of Jerusalem and Jaffa; instead of a firm and generous refusal, the hero negotiated with the priest; a quarter of either city was handed over to the church; and the humble bishop was content with eventual claim to the remainder, should Godfrey die childless or if a new seat were established in Cairo or Damascus.

Without this indulgence, the conqueror would have almost been stripped of his infant kingdom, which consisted only of Jerusalem and Jaffa, with about twenty villages and towns of the adjacent country. Within this narrow verge, the Mahometans 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, the ancient princes of Judah and Israel. After the reduction of the maritime cities of Laodicea, Tripoli, Tyre, and Ascalon, 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 Tripoli 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 Mahometan conquests in Syria. The laws and language, the manners and titles, of the French nation and Latin church, were introduced into these transmarine colonies. According to the feudal jurisprudence, the principal states and subordinate baronies descended in the line of male and female succession: but the children of the first conquerors, a motley and degenerate race, were dissolved by the luxury of the climate; the arrival of new crusaders from Europe was a doubtful hope and a casual event. The service of the feudal tenures was performed by six hundred and sixty-six knights, who might expect the aid of two hundred more under the banner of the count of Tripoli; and each knight was attended to the field by four squires or archers on horseback. Five thousand and seventy sergeants, most probably foot-soldiers, were supplied by the churches and cities; and 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 scandalized by the pride, avarice, and corruption of these Christian soldiers; their claims of immunity and jurisdiction disturbed the harmony of the church and state; and the public peace was endangered by their jealous emulation. But in their most dissolute period, the knights of their 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.

Without this indulgence, the conqueror would have nearly lost his fledgling kingdom, which included only Jerusalem and Jaffa, along with about twenty nearby villages and towns. Within this limited territory, the Muslims were still entrenched in some impenetrable castles, and farmers, merchants, and pilgrims faced daily hostility. Thanks to Godfrey himself, and the two Baldwins, his brother and cousin who succeeded him, the Latin inhabitants felt a bit more at ease and secure; eventually, they matched, at least in territorial extent, the ancient rulers of Judah and Israel, though not in the millions of subjects. After capturing the coastal cities of Laodicea, Tripoli, Tyre, and Ascalon—with significant support from the fleets of Venice, Genoa, Pisa, and even Flanders and Norway—the Christian pilgrims possessed the coastline from Scanderoon to the borders of Egypt. While the prince of Antioch rejected his authority, the counts of Edessa and Tripoli acknowledged themselves as vassals of the king of Jerusalem; the Latins ruled beyond the Euphrates, and the four cities of Homs, Hama, Damascus, and Aleppo were the only remnants of Muslim conquests in Syria. The laws and language, customs and titles of the French nation and Latin church were adopted in these overseas colonies. Following feudal law, the principal states and subordinate baronies were inherited through both male and female lines; however, the offspring of the first conquerors, a mixed and weakened group, were affected by the indulgences of the climate. The arrival of new crusaders from Europe was uncertain and sporadic. The feudal obligations were fulfilled by six hundred sixty-six knights, who could expect support from another two hundred under the count of Tripoli; each knight was accompanied into battle by four squires or archers on horseback. Five thousand seventy sergeants, likely foot soldiers, were provided by the churches and cities; and the entire legal militia of the kingdom numbered no more than eleven thousand men, a meager defense against the surrounding hordes of Saracens and Turks. However, the strongest defense of Jerusalem was based on the knights of the Hospital of St. John and the Temple of Solomon, a unique blend of monastic and military life that may have stemmed from fanaticism but was also necessary for strategy. The elite of European nobility aspired to wear the cross and uphold the vows of these esteemed orders; their spirit and discipline were legendary, and the generous donation of twenty-eight thousand farms or manors allowed them to maintain a regular force of cavalry and infantry to defend Palestine. The strictness of the convent soon faded under the demands of warfare; the world was appalled by the pride, greed, and corruption among these Christian soldiers; their claims of immunity and jurisdiction disrupted the balance of church and state, and their rivalry threatened public peace. Yet, even during their most dissolute times, the knights of the hospital and temple preserved their fearless and zealous nature: they neglected their own lives but were ready to die in service of Christ; and the spirit of chivalry, both the origin and result of the crusades, has been carried from the holy sepulcher to the Isle of Malta by this institution.

The spirit of freedom, which pervades the feudal institutions, was felt in its strongest energy by the volunteers of the cross, who elected for their chief the most deserving of his peers. Amidst the slaves of Asia, unconscious of the lesson or example, a model of political liberty was introduced; and the laws of the French kingdom are derived from the purest source of equality and justice. Of such laws, the first and indispensable condition is the assent of those whose obedience they require, and for whose benefit they are designed. No sooner had Godfrey of 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 patriarch and barons, of the clergy and laity, Godfrey composed the Assise of Jerusalem, a precious monument of feudal jurisprudence. The new code, attested by the seals of the king, the patriarch, and the viscount of Jerusalem, was deposited in the holy sepulchre, enriched with the improvements of succeeding times, and respectfully consulted as often as any doubtful question arose in the tribunals of Palestine. With the kingdom and city all was lost: the fragments of the written law were preserved by jealous tradition and variable practice till the middle of the thirteenth century: the code was restored by the pen of John d'Ibelin, count of Jaffa, one of the principal feudatories; and the final revision was accomplished in the year thirteen hundred and sixty-nine, for the use of the Latin kingdom of Cyprus.

The spirit of freedom that runs through the feudal systems was strongly felt by the volunteers of the cross, who chose the most deserving among them as their leader. In Asia, where people were unaware of the lesson or example, a model of political liberty was introduced; the laws of the French kingdom are rooted in the purest principles of equality and justice. The first and essential condition of such laws is the consent of those who must obey them, and who they are meant to benefit. As soon as Godfrey of Bouillon took on the role of supreme magistrate, he sought the public and private advice of the Latin pilgrims, who were best acquainted with European statutes and customs. Using this guidance, along with the approval of the patriarch, barons, clergy, and laypeople, Godfrey created the Assise of Jerusalem, an important record of feudal law. This new code, endorsed by the seals of the king, the patriarch, and the viscount of Jerusalem, was placed in the holy sepulchre, enhanced by future refinements, and referred to whenever uncertain legal issues emerged in the courts of Palestine. With the loss of the kingdom and city, the remnants of written law were preserved through cautious tradition and inconsistent practice until the mid-thirteenth century. The code was later reinstated by John d'Ibelin, count of Jaffa, a key feudal lord, and the final revision was completed in 1369 for the Latin Kingdom of Cyprus.

The justice and freedom of the constitution were maintained by two tribunals of unequal dignity, which were instituted by Godfrey of Bouillon after the conquest of Jerusalem. The king, in person, presided in the upper court, the court of the barons. Of these the four most conspicuous were the prince of Galilee, the lord of Sidon and Cæsarea, and the counts of Jaffa and Tripoli, 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 on the subordinate assemblies of his own feudatories. The connection of lord and vassal was honorable and voluntary: reverence was due to the benefactor, protection to the dependant; but they mutually pledged their faith to each other; and the obligation on either side might be suspended by neglect or dissolved by injury. The cognizance of marriages and testaments was blended with religion, and usurped by the clergy: but the civil and criminal causes of the nobles, the inheritance and tenure of their fiefs, formed the proper occupation of the supreme court. Each member was the judge and guardian both of public and private rights. It was his duty to assert with his tongue and sword the lawful claims of the lord; but if an unjust superior presumed to violate the freedom or property of a vassal, the confederate peers stood forth to maintain his quarrel by word and deed. They boldly affirmed his innocence and his wrongs; demanded the restitution of his liberty or his lands; suspended, after a fruitless demand, their own service; rescued their brother from prison; and employed every weapon in his defence, without offering direct violence to the person of their lord, which was ever sacred in their eyes. In their pleadings, replies, and rejoinders, the advocates of the court were subtle and copious; but the use of argument and evidence was often superseded by judicial combat; and the Assise of Jerusalem admits in many cases this barbarous institution, which has been slowly abolished by the laws and manners of Europe.

The justice and freedom of the constitution were upheld by two courts of different levels of importance, established by Godfrey of Bouillon after the conquest of Jerusalem. The king personally presided over the upper court, known as the court of the barons. The four most prominent barons were the prince of Galilee, the lord of Sidon and Cæsarea, and the counts of Jaffa and Tripoli, who, along with the constable and marshal, were especially peers and judges of one another. However, all the nobles who held their lands directly from the crown were required to attend the king's court, and each baron had a similar authority in the lower courts of his own vassals. The relationship between lord and vassal was honorable and voluntary: there was respect for the benefactor and protection for the dependent; they mutually pledged their loyalty to each other, and either side could suspend or end their obligation due to neglect or harm. The regulation of marriages and wills was intertwined with religion and taken over by the clergy, but the civil and criminal matters of the nobles, along with the inheritance and ownership of their fiefs, were the main focus of the supreme court. Each member was the judge and protector of both public and private rights. It was his duty to assert the rightful claims of the lord with words and weapons; however, if an unjust superior attempted to violate the freedom or property of a vassal, the allied peers stepped up to support him both verbally and in action. They confidently asserted his innocence and the wrongs done to him; demanded the return of his freedom or lands; paused their own services after an unsuccessful plea; rescued their comrade from prison; and used every possible means to defend him without directly harming their lord, whose person was always considered sacred to them. In their arguments, replies, and counterarguments, the court's advocates were clever and thorough, but often, reasoning and evidence were replaced by trial by combat; and the Assise of Jerusalem acknowledges this brutal practice in many cases, which has been gradually abolished by the laws and customs of Europe.

The trial by battle was established in all criminal cases which affected the life, or limb, or honor, of any person; and in all civil transactions, of or above the value of one mark of silver. It appears that in criminal cases the combat was the privilege of the accuser, who, except in a charge of treason, avenged his personal injury, or the death of those persons whom he had a right to represent; but wherever, from the nature of the charge, testimony could be obtained, it was necessary for him to produce witnesses of the fact. In civil cases, the combat was not allowed as the means of establishing the claim of the demandant; but he was obliged to produce witnesses who had, or assumed to have, knowledge of the fact. The combat was then the privilege of the defendant; because he charged the witness with an attempt by perjury to take away his right. He came therefore to be in the same situation as the appellant in criminal cases. It was not then as a mode of proof that the combat was received, nor as making negative evidence, (according to the supposition of Montesquieu; ) but in every case the right to offer battle was founded on the right to pursue by arms the redress of an injury; and the judicial combat was fought on the same principle, and with the same spirit, as a private duel. Champions were only allowed to women, and to men maimed or past the age of sixty. The consequence of a defeat was death to the person accused, or to the champion or witness, as well as to the accuser himself: but in civil cases, the demandant was punished with infamy and the loss of his suit, while his witness and champion suffered ignominious death. In many cases it was in the option of the judge to award or to refuse the combat: but two are specified, in which it was the inevitable result of the challenge; if a faithful vassal gave the lie to his compeer, who unjustly claimed any portion of their lord's demesnes; or if an unsuccessful suitor presumed to impeach the judgment and veracity of the court. He might impeach them, but the terms were severe and perilous: in the same day he successively fought all the members of the tribunal, even those who had been absent; a single defeat was followed by death and infamy; and where none could hope for victory, it is highly probable that none would adventure the trial. In the Assise of Jerusalem, the legal subtlety of the count of Jaffa is more laudably employed to elude, than to facilitate, the judicial combat, which he derives from a principle of honor rather than of superstition.

The trial by battle was established for all criminal cases that impacted a person's life, physical integrity, or honor, and in all civil matters valued at one mark of silver or more. In criminal cases, the accuser had the right to combat, except in treason charges, where he sought revenge for personal harm or the death of those he represented. However, when it was possible to gather evidence, he had to present witnesses for the case. In civil cases, combat wasn't allowed to establish the claimant's right; instead, he had to provide witnesses who had knowledge of the facts. The combat was then the defendant's privilege, as he accused the witness of trying to undermine his rights through perjury. Thus, he found himself in a similar position to an appellant in criminal cases. Combat wasn't accepted as a mode of proof or as negative evidence (according to Montesquieu’s view); it was based on the right to seek reparation for a wrongdoing, and judicial combat was fought similarly to a private duel. Champions could only represent women and men who were injured or older than sixty. The consequence of losing was death for the accused, their champion or witness, and even for the accuser. In civil cases, the claimant faced disgrace and lost their case while their witness and champion were subjected to a shameful death. In many situations, the judge could decide to grant or deny the combat: however, two scenarios mandated it as a result of the challenge; if a loyal vassal challenged a peer who unjustly claimed part of their lord's lands, or if an unsuccessful suitor dared to question the judgment and honesty of the court. They could question the court, but the stakes were high and dangerous: on the same day, they would fight all members of the tribunal, even those who weren't present; one defeat would lead to death and disgrace. When victory seemed unlikely, it's very probable that no one would risk the trial. In the Assise of Jerusalem, the legal cunning of the count of Jaffa is more skillfully used to evade than to make easier the judicial combat, as he bases it on a principle of honor rather than superstition.

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 the rights and privileges of freemen. It is expressly declared in the Assise of Jerusalem, that after instituting, for his knights and barons, the court of peers, in which he presided himself, Godfrey of 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 Assise of Jerusalem condescends to mention the villains 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, who 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.

Among the reasons that freed the common people from feudal oppression, the establishment of cities and corporations is one of the most significant. If the cities of Palestine date back to the first crusade, they can be considered among the oldest in the Latin world. Many of the pilgrims escaped from their lords under the cross's banner, and the French princes encouraged them to stay by promising them the rights and privileges of free people. The Assise of Jerusalem explicitly states that after setting up a court of peers for his knights and barons, which he presided over himself, Godfrey of Bouillon created a second court represented by his viscount. This lower court had jurisdiction over the citizens of the kingdom and was made up of a select group of the most sensible and deserving citizens, who swore to judge based on the laws regarding their equals’ actions and fortunes. In conquering and settling new cities, the kings and their noble vassals followed Jerusalem's example; over thirty similar corporations were founded before the loss of the Holy Land. Another group of subjects, the Syrians or Oriental Christians, were oppressed by the clergy's zeal but protected by the state’s tolerance. Godfrey listened to their reasonable request to be judged by their own national laws. A third court was created for them with limited and local jurisdiction, comprised of sworn members who were Syrians by blood, language, and religion; however, the president's role (in Arabic, the rais) was sometimes held by the city’s viscount. Following far below the nobles, the burgesses, and the strangers, the Assise of Jerusalem mentions the villains and slaves, the peasants of the land and the captives of war, who were nearly regarded as property. The relief or protection of these unfortunate individuals was not seen as worthy of the legislator's concern; instead, he focused on ensuring the recovery, though not the punishment, of runaways. Like dogs or hawks that had strayed from their rightful owner, they could be lost and claimed again; the slave and the falcon held the same value, but three slaves or twelve oxen were considered equivalent to the price of a war-horse, with a sum of three hundred pieces of gold set in the age of chivalry as the equivalent of the more noble animal.

End of Volume V.

End of Volume 5.


Download ePUB

If you like this ebook, consider a donation!