The Visigoth kingdom, which had stood for three centuries, had
passed its meridian. It had created a magnificent background for
historic Spain, and a heritage which would be the pride and glory of
the proudest nation in Europe. The Goths had come as only rude
intruders into that country; but to be descended from the Visigoth
Kings was hereafter to be the proudest boast of the Spaniard. And the
man who could make good such claim to distinction was a Hidalgo;
or in its original form, hijo-de-algo—son of somebody.
But many generations of peace had impaired the rugged strength and
softened the sinews of the nation. It was the beginning of the end
when, at the close of the seventh century, there were two rival
claimants to the throne; and while the vicious and cruel Witiza reigned
at Toledo, Roderick, the son of Theodofred, also reigned in Andalusia.
There had been a long struggle, during which it is said that
Theodofred's eyes had been put out by his victorious rival, and his son
Roderick had obtained assistance from the Greek Emperor at Byzantium in
asserting his own claims. He succeeded in driving Witiza out of the
country; and in 709,—“the last of the Goths,”—was crowned at Toledo,
King of all Spain.
But the struggle was not over; and it was about to lead to a result
which is one of the most momentous in the history, not alone of
Spain,—nor yet of Europe,—but of Christendom. Witiza was dead,
but his two sons, with a formidable following, were still trying to
work the ruin of Roderick. A certain Count Julian, who, on account of
his daughter Florinda, had his own wrongs to avenge, accepted the
leadership of these rebels. The power of the Visigoths had extended
across the narrow strait (cut by the Phenicians) over to the opposite
shore, where Morocco seems to be reaching out in vain endeavor to touch
the land from which she was long ago severed; and there, at Tangiers,
this arch-traitor laid his plans and matured the scheme of revenge and
treachery which had such tremendous results for Europe. With an
appearance of perfect loyalty he parted from Roderick, who
unsuspectingly asked him to bring him some hawks from Africa when he
returned. Bowing, he said: “Sire, I will bring you such hawks as never
were seen in Spain before.”
For one hundred years an unprecedented wave of conquest had been
moving from Asia toward the west. Mahommedanism, which was destined to
become the scourge of Christendom, had subjected Syria, Mesopotamia,
Egypt, and northern Africa, until it reached Ceuta—the companion
Pillar to Gibraltar on the African coast.
At this point the Goths had stood, as a protecting wall beyond which
the Asiatic deluge could not flow.
Count Julian was the trusted military commander of the Gothic
garrisons in Morocco, as Musa, the oft-defeated Saracen leader,
knew to his cost. As this Musa was one day looking with covetous eyes
across at the Spanish Peninsula, he was suddenly surprised by a visit
from Count Julian; and still more astonished when that commander
offered to surrender to him the Gothic strongholds Tangier,
Arsilla, and Ceuta in return for the assistance of the
Saracen army in the cause of Witiza's sons against Roderick.
Amazed at such colossal treason, Musa referred Count Julian to his
master the Khalif, at Damascus, who at once accepted his infamous
proposition. In Spanish legend and history this man is always
designated as The Traitor, as if standing alone and on a
pinnacle among the men who have betrayed their countries.
Musa, half doubting, sent a preliminary force of about five hundred
Moors under a chief named Tarif, to the opposite coast; and the
Moors found, as was promised, that they might range at their own will
and pleasure in that earthly paradise of Andalusia. The name of this
Mussulman chief, Tarif, was given to the spot first touched by the feet
of the Mahommedan, which was called Tarifa; and as Tarifa was
afterward the place where customs were collected, the word tariff
is an imperishable memorial of that event. In like manner Gibraltar was
named Gebel-al-Tarik, (Mountain of Tarik) after the leader
bearing that name, who was sent later by Musa with a larger force;
which name has been gradually changed to its present form—Gibraltar.
Poor King Roderick, while still fighting to maintain his own right
to the crown he wore, learned with dismay that his country was invaded
by a horde of people from the African coast. Theodemir wrote to him:
“So strange is their appearance that we might take them for inhabitants
of the sky. Send me all the troops you can collect, without delay.” The
hawks promised by Count Julian had arrived!
The hour of doom had sounded for the last King of the Visigoths, and
for his kingdom. There is a legend that a mysterious tower existed near
Toledo, which was built by Hercules, soon after Adam, with the command
that no king or lord of Spain should ever seek to know what it
contained; instead of that it was the duty of each King to put a new
lock upon its mysterious portal.
It is said that Roderick, perhaps in his extremity, resolved to
disobey the command, and to discover the secret hidden in the Enchanted
Tower. In a jeweled shrine in the very heart of the structure he came
at last to a coffer of silver, “right subtly wrought,” and far inside
of that he reached the final mystery,—only this,—a white cloth folded
between two pieces of copper. With trembling eagerness Roderick opened
and found painted thereon men with turbans, carrying banners, with
swords strung around their necks, and bows behind them, slung at the
saddle-bow. Over these figures was written: “When this cloth shall be
opened, men appareled like these shall conquer Spain, and be the lords
thereof.”
Such is the picturesque legend. Men with “turbans and banners and
swords slung about their necks,” were assuredly now in Andalusia, led
by Tarik, who had literally burned his ships behind him, and then told
his followers to choose between victory or death.
The two armies faced each other at a spot near Cadiz. It is said
that Roderick, the degenerate successor of Alaric, went into battle in
a robe of white silk embroidered with gold, sitting on a car of ivory,
drawn by white mules. Tarik's men, who were fighting for victory or
Paradise, overwhelmed the Goths; Roderick, in his flight, was drowned
in the Guadalquivir, and his diadem of pearls and his embroidered robe
were sent to Damascus as trophies.
Count Julian urged that the victory be immediately followed up by
Musa before there was time for the Spaniards to rally. One after
another the cities of Toledo, Cordova, and Granada capitulated, the
persecuted Jews flocking to the new standard and aiding in the conquest
of their oppressors.
As well might one have held back the Atlantic from rushing through
that canal upon the isthmus, as to have stayed the inflowing of the
Saracens through the breach made by “the Traitor,” Count Julian! In
less than two years Spain was a conquered province, rendering
allegiance to the Khalif at Damascus, and the Moor,—as the
followers of the Prophet in Morocco were called,—reigned in Toledo.
It was in the year 412 that Ataulfus, with his haughty bride
Placidia, had established his Court at Barcelona, and Romanized Spain
became Gothic Spain. In 711—just three centuries later—the Visigoth
kingdom had disappeared as utterly beneath the Saracen flood as had its
ill-fated King Roderick under the waters of the Guadalquivir; and
fastened upon Christian Europe was a Mahommedan empire; an empire which
all the combined powers of that continent have never since been able
entirely to dislodge. From that ill-omened day in 709, when Tarif set
foot on the Spanish coast, to this June of 1898, the Mahommedan has
been in Europe; and remains to-day, a scourge and a blight in the
territory upon which his cruel grasp still lingers.