But, at the early period we are considering, the “Christian kingdom”
was composed of a handful of men and women who had fled from the
Moslems to the mountains of the Asturias. Its one stronghold was the
cave of Covadonga, where Pelagius, or Pelayo, had gathered thirty men
and ten women. Here, in the dark recesses of this cave,—which was
approached through a long and narrow mountain pass, and entered by a
ladder of ninety steps,—was the germ of the future kingdoms of Castile
and Aragon, and also of the downfall of the Moor. An Arab historian
said later: “Would to God the Moslems had extinguished that spark which
was destined to consume the dominion of Islam in the north” and, he
might have added, “in Spain.”
When Alfonso of Cantabria married the daughter of Pelayo in 751, the
cave of Covadonga no longer held the insurgent band. He roused all the
northern provinces against the Moors and gathered an army which drove
them step by step further south, until he had pushed the Christian
frontier as far as the great Sierra, so that the one-time Visigoth
capital of Toledo marked the line of the Moslem border fortresses. Too
scanty in numbers and too poor in purse to occupy the territory,
Alfonso and his army then retreated to their mountains, there to enjoy
the empty satisfaction of their conquest.
But the Moors in Andalusia had too many troubles of their own at
that time to give much heed to Alfonso I. and his rebellious band
hiding in the mountains. The Berbers and the Arabs on the African coast
were jealous and antagonistic; the one was devout, credulous, and
emotional; the other cool, crafty, and diplomatic. Suddenly the
long-slumbering hatred burst into open revolt, and the Khalif sent
thirty thousand Syrians to put down a formidable revolution in his
African dominions.
In full sympathy with their kinsmen across the sea, the Moors in
Spain began to realize that while that land had been won by twelve
thousand Berbers, led by one Berber general, that the lion's share of
the spoils had gone to the Arabs, who were carrying things with a high
hand! There were signs of a general uprising, in concert with the
revolution in Africa; and it looked as if the new territory was to be
given up to anarchy; when suddenly all was changed.
The Khalif, who was the head of all the Mahommedan empire, was
supposed to be the supreme ruler in spiritual and temporal affairs. But
as his empire extended to such vast dimensions, he was obliged to
delegate much of his temporal authority to others; so gradually it had
become somewhat like that of the Pope. He was the supreme spiritual
head, and only nominally supreme in affairs of state.
The family of Omeyyad had given fourteen Khalifs to the
Mahommedan empire from 661 to 750; at which time the then reigning
Omeyyad was deposed, and the second dynasty of Khalifs commenced,
called Abbaside, after Abbas, an uncle of the Prophet.
Abd-er-Rahman was a Prince belonging to the deposed family of the
Omeyyads. He was the only one of his family who escaped the
exterminating fury of the Abbasides. There was no future for him in the
east, so the thoughts of the ambitious youth turned to the west—to the
newly won territory of Spain.
The coming of this last survivor of the Omeyyads to Andalusia is one
of the romances of history, and was not unlike the coming of another
young Pretender to Scotland, one thousand years later. It aroused the
same wild enthusiasm, and as if by magic an army gathered about him, to
meet the army of the Governor, Yusuf, which would resist him. Victory
declared itself for the Prince, and he entered Cordova in triumph.
Before the year had expired the dynasty of the Omeyyads—which was to
stand for three centuries—was finally established, and its first
king—Abd-er-Rahman—reigned at Cordova.
His hereditary enemies the Abbasides followed him to Spain, and
found supporters among the disaffected. But it was in vain. The
Abbaside army of invasion was utterly annihilated; and the qualities
slumbering in this son of the Khalifs may be judged when we relate that
the heads of the Abbaside leaders were put into a bag with descriptive
labels attached to their ears, and sent to the reigning Khalif as a
present.
This little incident does not seem to have injured him in the
estimation of Mansur, the new Khalif, who said of him: “Wonderful is
this man! Such daring, wisdom, prudence! To throw himself into a
distant land; to profit by the jealousies of the people; to turn their
arms against one another instead of against himself; to win homage and
obedience through such difficulties; and to rule supreme—lord of all!
Of a truth there is not such another man!” Abd-er-Rahman (the Sultan,
as he was called) merited this praise. He knew when to be cruel and
when to show mercy; and how to hold scheming Arab chiefs, fierce,
jealous Berbers, and vanquished Christians, and could placate or
crucify as the conditions required.