Transcriber's Notes:
Blank pages have been eliminated.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original.
A few typographical errors have been corrected.
The cover page was created by the transcriber and can be considered public domain.

THE JEWS AND MOORS IN SPAIN.

BY

RABBI JOS. KRAUSKOPF.

KANSAS CITY:
M. Berkowitz & Co., Publishers and Printers.
1887.

Copyright, 1886,

By Joseph Krauskopf.

All Rights Reserved.

TO

The Members of Congregation

B'NAI JEHUDAH

OF

Kansas City, Missouri,

In Deep Appreciation of their Kindness and Encouragement This Volume Is Respectfully Dedicated.

PREFACE.

This volume is a reprint of newspaper reports of a series of lectures delivered by the author from the pulpit of Congregation B'nai Jehudah, Kansas City, Mo., during the Fall and Winter of 1885-1886.

The lectures were prepared to fulfill the requirements of popular discourses, and designed to convey information upon a highly important epoch of the world's history, that is almost neglected in English literature.

The thought of publishing these lectures in book form was utterly foreign to the author throughout their preparation, until an urgent solicitation from very many persons, both Jews and Gentiles, in all parts of this country, whose interest in these lectures was aroused by their wide-spread republication by the Press, made it a duty.

Kansas City, Mo., January, 1887.

The following are two of the many letters addressed to the author, requesting him to have his lectures on "The Jews and Moors in Spain" published in book form.

Letter from Hon. T. T. Crittenden,

Ex-Governor of the State of Missouri.

Kansas City, Mo., March 29, 1886.

Rabbi Joseph Krauskopf.

Dear Sir:—Having read with pleasure and edification the series of lectures delivered in the Synagogue, Kansas City, Mo., entitled "The Jews and Moors in Spain," in which you treat of the social, political, religious and intellectual life of these Oriental nations, may I inquire if it is your purpose to have them published in book form?

I think the lectures too valuable, too full of prolonged historic research and thought to live only one day in the columns of a daily newspaper. Even if they were designed "to adorn a tale or point a moral" of the great race to which you belong, whose history commenced with Abraham and will end with that of the human race, still the history of that race was (and is) so intimately interlaced with the history of the other races for the intervening centuries, that the lectures are in part, so much the history of the other races, that they can be read and studied by all men without prejudice or animosity. One thing is certain, you have in the lectures divested history of much of its dry and useless details, and make it a thrilling romance of facts, presented in the simplest and purest Anglo-Saxon language.

I know not how others view the lectures, only speak this for myself—no library is complete without the History of the Jewish race, and no history of that race for the period covered, is more comprehensive, truthful and impartial than that presented in these lectures. I think the book would find a ready sale in all thinking, reading communities.

Very Truly Yours,

Thos. T. Crittenden.

Letter From Arnold Krekel,

Judge of the U. S. Court, Western District of Missouri.

Kansas City, Mo, April 2, 1886.

Rabbi Joseph Krauskopf.

My Dear Sir:—Having attended a number of your lectures on "The History of the Jews and Moors in Spain," and read such as I did not hear, allow me to give expression to my views regarding the same. Aside from the interest the student of history must always feel in that part of history of which your lectures treat, the manner of treatment specially interested me. Relating historical facts, too often becomes dry and irksome, and it requires more than ordinary skill of presentation to make the subject interesting and attractive. In this you have fully succeeded by interweaving with the facts those matters which enliven the picture. A knowledge of the social condition of a people, and the relation to which they stand to their age, enables us to judge of their worth and the influence they exercised. Your lectures, as a whole, presented a life-breathing social picture of the times and people, and as the civilization of Europe was largely effected by the Jews and Moors, their history embraces to a large extent the history of civilization, and thereby acquires an interest not limited to the people and countries of which your lectures give so interesting an account. A publication in permanent form of your lectures would advance our knowledge of that part of history to which we have always looked for instruction and guidance, and I hope you may find a way of accomplishing this object.

Very Respectfully,

A. Krekel.

Editorial in the Kansas City Journal of Sunday, April 24, 1886.

The Journal published yesterday morning the eighteenth and last of the series of lectures delivered by Rabbi Krauskopf on "The Jew and Moor in Spain." From first to last these lectures have been of absorbing interest. The Synagogue has been crowded on the occasion of their delivery, and it was with regret that the Rabbi's hearers heard that the lecture on Friday night was the last of the series.

It is the purpose of Rabbi Krauskopf to have his lectures issued in book form. They will make an attractive volume, and will no doubt be widely read. Rabbi Krauskopf is a graphic writer, and his lectures upon "The Jew And Moor in Spain" are a series of historical occurrences related in a manner that serves to chain the reader's attention—old world scenes are accurately and vividly described. The reader is taken through all the struggles, the defeats and the triumphs of the Jews. Their arts, their industry, their upright dealings and their steadfast adherence to their religion through trials and persecutions are related with a proud belief that they were God's chosen people, working out their destiny according to His will. The lecturer started with the Jews as he found them, a prosperous community in southwestern Europe, busily engaged in transforming Spain into a granery and garden spot of Europe, respected by their heathen neighbors, happy and contented. He passed on to the period of persecution in the Sixth Century when Christianity of a somewhat forcible nature attempted the conversion of the Jews by persecution; when many were massacred and others driven into exile. Then came the Arab invasion and during the period of Mohammedan supremacy the Jews were again allowed to live in peace and the exercise of their own religious rites. For eight centuries the Jews and the Moors worked side by side and the once down-trodden people rose to affluence and high position.

With the decline of Mohammedan power, and the expulsion of the Moors by the Spaniards, the Jews were again reduced to a pitiable state. Spain arose to enormous power, but that, too, has waned, and the population of 30,000,000 people has dwindled to about half that number. The manufactures, the commerce and the agricultural, the universal prosperity which the Jews had built up disappeared, and the glory of Spain departed as rapidly as it had been acquired. In the expulsion of the Jews and Moors alone does Rabbi Krauskopf attribute the ruin of Spain.

The lectures read like a romance. They are an historical romance, told in a charming manner, full of descriptions accurate, truthful. When they are compiled the volume will undoubtedly meet with a large sale. It was not the original intention of the Rabbi to issue his lectures in book form, but many people, both Jews and Christians, have requested him verbally and by letter to do so, and he has decided to grant their requests.

CONTENTS OF CHAPTERS.

CONTENTS.

The Jews and Moors in Spain.

CHAPTER I.
A DAY IN CORDOVA.

SIX AND EIGHT AND TEN CENTURIES BACK IN THE WORLD'S HISTORY.—OUR ENTRANCE INTO SPAIN.—A MIRACLE.—THE BEAUTIFUL GUADALQUIVIR.—OUR BRONZE COMPLEXIONED OARSMAN.—FAIR CORDOVA.—THE CITY OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES.—NIGHT.—A SERENADE.—OUR DEPARTURE.

It is with the past that we shall commune in these pages. Events and scenes, beautiful and loathsome, joyous and tearful, ennobling and degrading, will follow each other in rapid succession. There will be much that, despite the very best of historic sources, and most reliable and impartial authorities, will be accepted as fabulous or will be rejected as incredible or impossible. Achievements will be described, that will startle us for their peerless magnificence and lead us to suppose that we are not dealing with facts, but with the imaginations of some rich phantasy or with the fictitious colorings of a mind enthusiastic for an ideal society; and miseries and sufferings will be depicted that will strike terror into our very soul, and cause our heart to rise in rebellion against the mind, when asked to believe them as actual occurrences, and not as some distressing and revolting and blood-stained work of fiction, written by some hellish fiend for the amusement or for the schooling of the vicious indwellers of the bottomless pit of Tophet. And yet, it will be history, and true history, strange and incredible, marvelous and anomalous though it may appear. Six and eight and ten centuries have since passed by, and the most wonderful of all centuries they have been, centuries that chronicle the birth and prodigious growth of the sciences and inventions, the creation and successful continuance of republican and constitutional governments, the breaking down of castes and barriers between man and man, the suppression of political and religious terrorism and these blessed results have so tickled our conceit, have so raised our moral standard that it is almost impossible for us to properly conceive—either in all its grandeur or in all its baseness—that era of the past, which we are about to traverse.

But know we must, and therefore, what the mind refuses to believe, and what the heart refuses to credit, let the eye see. Let us think ourselves back six and eight and ten centuries. Let us enter upon a far and distant journey. Away we speed. Far, far across the wild Atlantic. We have reached the sunny land of Spain. Here let us pause for a hasty inspection. It will not take us long, for that country, that is among the poorest of all European countries to-day, whose reeking filth has recently made it a scene of revelry to the ravishing plague, whose stupendous ignorance, and appalling superstitions, have made it a by-word among the civilized people of the earth, that country, so backward now, will certainly have no attractiveness for us, ten centuries earlier in its history.

Lo! A miracle! The magic wand of some frolicksome fay must have suddenly transformed the land of expected filth and wretchedness into a beauteous fairyland. Amidst rapturous admiration of the indescribable beauties, which meet our gaze everywhere, we glide along upon the placid surface of the Guadalquivir, in which a wondrously clear blue sky glasses itself, and splendrous palaces and gorgeous parks are reflected. We have entered beautiful Andalusia. We glide along the southern declivity of the Sierra Morena. Suddenly there breaks upon our view a scene of beauty that mocks every attempt at description. We ask our black eyed, bronze complexioned and proud featured oarsman for the name of that magnificent city that lies stretched for miles along the right bank. He understands us not. We address him in French, in German, in Greek, in Latin. No answer. We are at our wits' end. We must know, and so we seek recourse, as a last resort, to our mother tongue, the language of the Hebrews, and his face brightens, and his tongue is loosened, and in accents as melodious and pure as it must have been spoken by David himself, when he sang to his harp, the words of his own heaven-inspired psalms he makes reply: "What ye behold, ye strangers, is the city of Cordova, the government seat of the valiant and chivalrous, and scholarly and liberal, and art-loving Caliph Abderrahman III."

We are burning with a desire to see that city, whose simple outlines display such bewildering elegance. With our courteous oarsman as guide, we advance along the street that leads from the river bank. We gaze and gaze in awe-stricken silence. Amazement is expressed on every countenance. Our eyes are dazzled with the enchanting magnificence that abounds. We have reached the palace of the Caliph. Are we dreaming? Are we under the power of some magic spell? Is this a whim of some sportive, mischief-loving fay? Have we not thought ourselves some ten centuries back? Are we in the midst of the Dark Ages; in European lands, and among the people of the tenth century, concerning whose stupendous ignorance and loathsome filth historians have had so much to say? Has history deceived us in its teaching that the people of Europe, six and eight centuries back had scarcely emerged from the savage state, that they inhabited floorless, chimneyless, windowless huts, those of princes and monarchs differing only in their having rushes on the floor and straw mats against the walls, that they fed on roots and vetches and bark of trees, clothed in garments of untanned skin which remained on the body till they dropped in pieces, that there existed scarcely a city, everywhere pathless forest and howling wastes?

It is not a dream. Neither has history deceived us. We are in European lands, but among Oriental people. We are in the midst of the prime of the dark ages, but we are in the Southern part of Spain, in Andalusia, in the city of Cordova, a city of 200,000 houses, and 1,000,000 inhabitants, of hundreds of parks and public gardens, of menageries of foreign animals, of aviaries of rare birds, of factories in which skilled workmen display their art in textures of silk, cotton, linen, and all the miracles of the loom, in jewelry and in filigree works, in works of art, and in scientific instruments and apparatus. We are in the city that, even then, could boast of a college of music, of libraries, of public schools, of universities in which instructions were given in the sciences and philosophies and languages, and literatures and arts. We are in the city of art and culture and learning, the city made famous and beautiful by the literary and cultured Moors and Jews, whose prosperity continued as long as the followers of Mohammed and the followers of Moses were permitted to dwell in peace side by side, but whose glory vanished as soon as Christianity banished the Jews and Moors from Spain. But we must not indulge in any reflections now. Our raven locked guide, whose beautiful form, and winning countenance, and melodious voice involuntarily remind us of the beautiful lover of the love-inflamed Shulamite in "Solomon's Song," beckons, and we must follow. On we march, and with every step new and matchless beauties unroll themselves before us. We know not what we shall admire first, and most, whether the polished marble balconies that overhang luscious orange gardens, or the courts with the cascades of water beneath the shades of the cypress trees, or the artificial lakes, supplied with water by hydraulic works, replete with fish; whether the shady retreats with inlaid floors and walls of exquisite mosaic, vaulted with stained glass and speckled with gold, over which streams of water are continually gushing, or the fountains of quicksilver, that shoot up in glittering globules and fall with a tranquil sound like fairy bells; whether the apartments into which cool air is drawn from the flower gardens, in summer by means of ventilating towers and in winter through earthen pipes or caleducts imbedded in the walls—the hypocaust, in the vaults below, or the walls adorned with arabesque and paintings of agricultural scenes and views of paradise, or the ceilings corniced with fretted gold, other great chandeliers with their hundreds and hundreds of lamps; whether the columns of Greek, Italian, Spanish and African marble, covered with verd-antique and incrusted with lapis lazuli, or the furniture of sandal and citron wood, inlaid with mother of pearl, ivory, silver, or relieved with gold and precious malachite, or the costume of the ladies woven in silk and gold, and decorated with gems of chrysolites, hyacinths, emeralds and sapphires; whether the vases of rock crystal, Chinese porcelains, the embroidered Persian carpets with which the floors are covered, the rich tapestry that hangs along the walls, or the beautiful gardens, profuse with rare and exotic flowers, winding walks, bowers of roses, seats cut out of the rock, crypt-like grottoes hewn into the stone; whether the baths of marble, with hot and cold water, carried thither by pipes of metal, or the niches, with their dripping alcarazzas, or the whispering galleries for the amusement of the women, or the labyrinths and marble play-courts for the children.

On and on we pass, and new beauties still. We pass mosques and synagogues whose architectural finish is still the admiration and model of the world, and our gentle guide informs us that a public school is attached to each, in which the children of the poor are taught to read and write. We pass academies and universities, and our guide assures us that many a Hebrew presides over the Moorish institutions of learning. He reads the expression of surprise on our countenance, for we think of the striking contrast between his Mohammedan liberality and the intolerance of the other European countries, from which they are scarcely weaned as yet, and he modestly informs us that the Mohammedan maxim is, that "the real learning of a man is of more importance than any particular religious opinions he may entertain." And as the famous scholars pass in and out, our guide mentions them by name, and speaks of their brilliant accomplishments, of professors of Arabic classical literature, of professors of mathematics and astronomy, compilers of dictionaries similar to those now in use, but of larger copiousness, one of these covering sixty volumes, he points out the lexicographers of Greek and Latin and Hebrew and Arabic, and the encyclopedists of the "Historical Dictionary of Sciences," the poets of the satires, odes and elegies, and the inventors of the rhyme, the writers of history, of chronology, of numismatics, mathematics, astronomy, of pulpit oratory, of agriculture, of topography, of statistics, of physics, philosophy, medicines, dentistry, surgery, zoology, botany, pharmacy, and of the numerous other branches of learning.

Night has set in. Men are gathering around their evening fires to listen to the wandering literati, who exercise their wonderful powers of tale telling, and edify the eager listeners by such narratives as those that have descended to us in the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments." The dulcet strains of the dreamy and love-awaking mandolin, accompanying the rapturous love song of some chivalrous knight to his lady fair, break on our ears. Soon all is silent. We fain would stay, but our guide is weary from his day's task. Perchance the sweet strains of the serenade have awakened within his bosom tender longings for his fair Shulamite, "whose eyes are as the dove's, and whose lips are like a thread of scarlet, and whose speech is comely," (Song of Solomon, chap. iv.) to whom he would eagerly speed. And so we retrace our steps. For miles we walk in a straight line, by the light of public lamps; seven hundred years after this time there was not so much as one public lamp in London. For miles we walk along solidly paved streets. In Paris centuries subsequently, whoever stepped over his threshold on a rainy day stepped up to his ankles in mud. We have reached the bank of the Guadalquivir, and we have parted with our guide.

We have seen in one day more than we ever dared to dream of; enough to tempt us to visit it again and again, and not only Cordova, but also Grenada, Toledo, Barcelona, Saragossa, Seville, and other cities, to acquire a better acquaintanceship with their scholars and institutions, and with the wondrous advance of their civilization. Before we return, however, we shall visit France, Germany, England and Northern Spain, during the same era of the world's history, about ten centuries back, and the scenes that we shall meet there will enable us to appreciate all the better the benefits which the Moors and the Jews lavished upon Europe, and we shall become the more painfully conscious of the unatonable crime Spain has committed in expelling the Moors from Europe, and degrading the Jews for centuries to the dregs of mankind.

CHAPTER II.
EUROPE DURING THE DARK AGES.

UPON THE OCEAN.—DESOLATE EUROPE.—LONGING AFTER CORDOVA.—SOUTHERN SPAIN CONTRASTED WITH THE REST OF EUROPE.—REVOLTING UNCLEANLINESS.—ASCETIC MONKS ESTABLISH THE BELIEF THAT CLEANLINESS OF BODY LEADS TO POLLUTION OF SOUL.—INTELLECT FETTERED HAND AND FOOT.—CLERGY RETARDING PROGRESS.—SECULAR KNOWLEDGE SPURNED.

On, on, we glide upon the smooth, broad bosom of the majestic Guadalquivir, along graceful groves and parks and palaces, through woods and meads, hills and dales, shades and sun. A last glance, and beauteous Cordova hides her proud head behind the sun-kissed horizon.

Fair Cordova, fair Andalusia, fair Southern lands of Spain, fare ye well, take our brief adieu, till we visit you anew.

On, on, we sail, towards the Atlantic now we speed.

We have reached the shores of the interminable ocean. Its wild waves dash fiercely against the rock-ribbed shores, as if impatient for our return. Our goodly ship, staunch and strong, raises and lowers its festooned bow upon the heaving billows of the waters vast, and its pendant is playing in the wind, and its sails from the foreroyal to the mizzenroyal, and up to the very top of the mainroyal are furled to the full, in its hearty welcome to our return. We embark, and—

"On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone.

Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,

New shores descried, make every bosom gay,"

For we are to visit beautiful France, and learned Germany, and busy England, and Italy, of classic fame.

Once more we are on the continent. Once more our observations are to be put to the task. Once more we think ourselves some six and eight and ten centuries back in the world's history. Once more the eye is to be made to see what the mind has refused to credit.

Dreary and chilling and appalling are the scenes that now break upon our view. Longingly we think of thee, fair Cordova, thou pride of beauteous Andalusia. We think of thy pavements of marble, of thy fountains of jasper, of thy wondrous artistic skill, of thy exquisite gardens, of thy famous poets and musicians, artists and writers, philosophers and scientists, of thy chivalrous knights and enchanting ladies. Longingly we think of thy wondrous beauty, that would, indeed, in our present surroundings, have sounded fabulous had not our own eyes seen it. Had we been suddenly transplanted from the midst of blossoming and ripening summer, joyous because of its balmy breath and the melodious song of its birds, and the fragrant breath of its flowers, and the gladdening sight of its ripening fruit into the midst of the barren winter, where nature is frozen dead, and the storm rides on the gale, and the earth is bare and naked, and the air is cold and dreary, and the sun shines gloomily through the bleak and murky skies, that sudden change could not have been more keenly nor more painfully felt than that which marked the contrast between the southern lands of Spain and the countries of France and Germany and England and Italy, during the same age of the world's history. Scarcely a city anywhere, save those few that had been erected along the Rhine and the Danube by the Romans. Nothing that could, even with the broadest stretch of leniency, be designated as agricultural. Everywhere pathless forests, howling wastes, ill-boding wildernesses, death-exhaling swamps, pestiferous fens. Prussia, and many more of to-day's proudest stars in the galaxy of European provinces, we find still uncivilized, still roaming about in the very costumes of native barbarians, in the spirits—and vampires—and nixes—and gnomes—and kobolds—inhabited pathless forests. Nowhere a street or highway, save those the Romans had built. Everywhere we must make our way, amidst indescribable difficulties, through almost impassable mud and clay. The people crowded together in miserable hamlets, inhabit wretched homesteads, crudely and bunglingly put together of undressed timber, or of twigs wattled together and covered with clays or thatched with straw or reeds, consisting seldom of more than one room, which shelters alike man, woman, child, man servant, maid servant, fowl and beast, a commingling of sex and species not altogether conducive to modesty or morality. The floor, for the main part is composed of the hard bare ground, or at best is covered with dry leaves or with filthy rushes. Nowhere a window, nowhere a chimney, the smoke of the ill-fed, cheerless fire escaping through a hole in the roof. Straw pellets constitute the bed, and a round log serves the place of bolster and pillow, one platter of treen stands in the center of the table—if "table" it might be called—from which man, woman and child, master and servant, maid and mistress, eat with spoons of wood. Fingers serve the place of knives and forks, and a wooden trencher makes the round to quench the thirst.

Everywhere we meet with men with squalid beards, and women with hair unkempt and matted with filth, and both, clothed in garments of untanned skin, or, at best, of leather or hair cloth, that are not changed till they drop in pieces of themselves, a loathsome mass of vermin, stench and rags. No attempt at drainage; the putrefying slops and garbage and rubbish are unceremoniously thrown out of the door.

The most revolting uncleanness abounds, and we cannot help thinking of the scrupulous cleanliness that distinguished Cordova, for cleanness is one of the most rigorous injunctions and requirements with both the religion of Mohammed and the religion of Moses. Here, on the contrary, personal uncleanliness, the renunciation of every personal comfort, the branding of every effort for better surroundings, we are told, upon inquiry, has the highest sanction of the church. The sordid example set by the Ascetic monks has established the belief that cleanliness of the body leads to the pollution of the soul, that in the past those saints were most admired who had become one hideous mass of clotted filth. With a thrill of admiration a priest informs us that St. Jerome had seen a monk who for thirty years had lived in a hole, and who never washed his clothes, nor changed his tunic till it fell to pieces; that St. Ammon had never seen himself naked; that the famous virgin, named Silvia, had resolutely refused for sixty years, on religious principles, to wash any part of her body, except her fingers; that St. Euphraxia had joined a convent of 130 nuns, who shuddered at the mention of a bath; that an anchorite had once imagined that he was mocked by an illusion of the devil, as he saw gliding before him through the desert a naked creature black with filth and years of exposure; it was the once beautiful St. Mary of Egypt, who had thus during forty-seven years been expiating her sins of Asceticism.

We have seen enough to lead us to the conclusion, that when we enter into an examination of the mental and moral and religious state of the people, whose personal and domestic life hold so low a rank in the history of civilization, we must not place our expectations too high. But low as we picture it to ourselves, the reality we find is infinitly lower than even our most lenient imagination had pictured it. Only a week ago we found Cordova proud, and distinguished, and peerless in the realm of culture, and art, and philosophy, and science, and now, during the same period of the world's history, we find a deep black cloud of appalling ignorance overhanging France, and Italy, and Germany and England, here and there only broken by a few, a very few, glimmering lights. Intellect, fettered hand and foot, lies bleeding at the feet of benighted barbarism, writhing in pain beneath the lashes of degrading superstitions, and groveling credulity. We search for the cause of this stupendous ignorance, and we soon find that to the clergy, more than to all other causes combined, belongs the very ignoble distinction of having ushered into Europe this stolid ignorance, and for being responsible for the unatonable crime of having retarded the advance of civilization by many centuries.

To the all powerful and all controlling influence of the Church is to be ascribed the universal paralysis of the mind during the very same period, when art and science and independent research flourished in Southern Spain under Moorish and Jewish influence. Whomsoever we approach, be they dignitaries of the Church or Church menials, distinguished luminaries or obscure parish priests, a conversation with them soon proves to us the sad truth, that their stock of knowledge exhausts itself with an enumeration of some monstrous legends or with the practice and teaching of some degrading and repulsive superstitions.

Secular knowledge is spurned. Physical science is held in avowed contempt and persecuted upon the ground of its inconsistency with revealed truth. Philosophical research is prohibited, under the severest punishment, as pernicious to piety. Upon inquiry as to the cause of this persecution of learning on the part of the church, which, as we modestly dare to suggest, has nothing to lose, but everything to gain from rational research and diligent pursuit of knowledge, a bishop emphatically informs us that they did this with the sanction and authority of the fourth council of Carthage, which had prohibited the reading of secular books by bishops, and with the authority of Jerome who had condemned the study of secular subjects, except for pious ends, and as there was no lack of piety (so they artlessly thought) they saw little use in preserving the learning and literature of the accursed Jews and heathens, and fearing lest they fall into the hands of others, not so pious as they, and not so protected against their pernicious influence by the knowledge of legends, or by the skillful use of magic spells, or exorcising charms, as they were. Or perhaps secretly fearing, lest an intimate knowledge of the learning of the ancients might open the eyes of the people to the ignorance and extortions and crimes and corruptions of the Church, they condemn that whole literature to the flames. Hundreds and thousands of valuable manuscripts are thus pitilessly destroyed. We fain would stay their cruel hand, but we fear for our lives. We see them erase the writing from hundreds and thousands of parchment copies of ancient priceless lore, and substitute in its stead legends of saints, and ecclesiastical rubbish, occasioning thus the loss of many an ancient author that is now so painfully missed.

We turn away from this revolting stupidity, but nowhere a pleasing sign to allay our anguish, or appease our grief-stricken heart.

"Oh, thou monstrous ignorance, how deformed dost thou look."

Nowhere freedom of humane thought. Everyone compelled to think as ecclesiastical authority orders him to think. In Germany, France and Northern Spain we find scarcely one priest out of a thousand who can write his name. In Rome itself, once the city of art and culture and learning, as late as 992, a reliable authority informs us, there is not a priest to be found who knows the first elements of letters. In England, King Alfred informs us that he cannot recollect a single priest south of the Thames (then the most civilized part of England) who at the time of his accession understood or could translate the ordinary Latin prayer, and that the homilies which they preached were compiled for their use by some bishop from former works of the same kind, or from the early Patristic writings. Throughout Christendom we find no restraint on the ordination of persons absolutely illiterate, no rules to exclude the ignorant from ecclesiastical preferment, no inclination and no power to make it obligatory upon even the mitred dignitaries, to be able to read a line from those Scriptures which they are to teach and preach as the rule of right and the guide to moral conduct. Darkness, intense darkness, stupendous ignorance everywhere. We shudder as we think of the cruelties which this ignorance will bequeath as its curse upon mankind. We shudder as we think of how this ignorance needs must check the advance of civilization. We know that knowledge will not be fettered forever, but before it shall be able to assert its right to sway over the mind of men, countless giant minds will have to be crushed and indescribable suffering will have to be endured. We know that "ignorance seldom vaults into knowledge, but passes into it through an intermediate state of obscurity, even as night into day through twilight." We tremble for those independent spirits that shall live during that transitory period. That twilight will be reddened by the reflection of streams of human blood.

We fain would speed away from these European lands, for we instinctively feel that we are in lands under the curse of God, and smitten with darkness, because their people had laid cruel hands upon the lands and the people of learning and culture and art.

But we must stay. We must note, distressing though the duty be, the terrible influence which this ignorance exercised upon the morals of the Church itself, and upon the mental and moral and political and social and industrial state of the people.

CHAPTER III.
EUROPE DURING THE DARK AGES.
(CONTINUED.)

GROSS SUPERSTITIONS.—A CRUCIFIX THAT SHED TEARS OF BLOOD.—THE VIRGIN'S HOUSE CARRIED THROUGH THE AIR BY ANGELS.—SATAN IN THE FORM OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.—SCENES IN HELL.—THE BURNING OF WITCHES.—A KING WHO CANNOT WRITE HIS NAME.—FEUDAL LORDS AS HIGHWAY ROBBERS.—THE SERFDOM OF THE PEASANTS.—RETURN TO CORDOVA.

We promised to make a careful examination into the influence which the ignorance of the clergy exercised upon the aspect of religion, upon the morals of the Church, and upon the social, industrial, political, moral and mental state of the people at large. We fear we made a rash promise. So heart-rending are the sights we see, if we are to give a faithful report, those unacquainted with the state of European civilization during the period which we are traversing, we fear, may accuse us of exaggeration, or worse still, may think that we, who belong to the race that suffered most during that period from the corruption of the Church, are animated by a spirit of revenge, and, therefore, find intense delight in holding so revolting a picture before our readers. But, happily, our readers are not composed of such. We are addressing intelligent people, men and women who know that our people have suffered too terribly and too unjustly from false accusations during many, many centuries, to render ourselves guilty of the same crime; men and women who know, that it is not from choice, but from historic necessity, that we contrast the social, and moral and intellectual state of Christian Europe during the Dark Ages, with the social and moral and intellectual state of Moorish and Jewish Europe of the same period, to appreciate the better the wonderful civilization of "The Jews and Moors in Spain."

Our search discloses to us the sad and terrible truth that ignorance, especially active ignorance, is the mother of superstition, and both the parents of fanaticism, and the offspring of this trio is deliberate imposture, extortion, corruption, crime, and these, in their turn, beget the world's misfortunes. This sad truth stares us in the face whatever church, cathedral, monastery or community we enter. Everywhere miracles and relics and idolatry. Everywhere the teaching and preaching of hell and Satan and witchcraft, and of the necessity of blind credulity and unquestioning belief. Every cathedral and monastery has its tutelar saint, and every saint his legend, and wondrous accounts are spread concerning the saint's power, for good or evil, often fabricated to enrich the church or monastery under his protection.

In Dublin we see the crucifix that sheds tears of blood. In Loretto we see the house once inhabited by the Virgin, and we were told, that some angels, chancing to be at Nazareth when the Saracen conquerors approached, fearing that the sacred relic might fall into their possession, took the house bodily in their hands, and, carrying it through the air, deposited it at its present place. In Bavaria they show us the brazen android which Albertus Magnus had so cunningly contrived as to serve him for a domestic, and whose garrulity had so much annoyed the studious Thomas Aquinas. In Alsace the abbot Martin shows us the following inestimable relics, which he had obtained for his monastery: a spot of the blood of Jesus, a piece of the true cross, the arm of the apostle James, part of the skeleton of John the Baptist, a bottle of milk of the blessed Virgin, and, with an ill-disguised envy, he told us that a finger of the Holy Ghost is preserved in a monastery at Jerusalem.

Everywhere we are told that the arch fiend and his innumerable legions of demons are forever hovering about us, seeking our present unhappiness and the future ruin of mankind; that we are at no time, and at no place, safe from them; that we cannot be sufficiently on our guard against them, for sometimes they assume the shape of a grotesque and hideous animal; sometimes they appear in the shape of our nearest and dearest relatives and friends; sometimes as a beautiful woman, alluring by more than human charms, the unwary to their destruction, and laying plots, which were but too often successful against the virtue of the saints; sometimes the Evil One assumes the shape of a priest, and, in order to bring discredit upon that priest's character, maliciously visits, in this saintly disguise, some very questionable places and allows himself to be caught in most disgraceful situations and environments. Can we imagine an invention more ingenius to hide the foul practices of the corrupt among the clergy?

Everywhere the clergy finds it a very profitable traffic to teach how the people might protect themselves against the Evil One. The sign of the cross, a few drops of Holy water, the name of the Virgin, the Gospel of St. John around the neck, a rosary, a relic of Christ or of a saint, suffice to baffle the utmost efforts of diabolic malice, and to put the Spirits of Evil to an immediate and ignominious flight.

There is not a Church, not a monastery that we enter, but that our blood is chilled at its fountain, as we gaze upon the ghastly paintings, representing the horrible tortures of hell, placed conspicuously for the contemplation of the faithful, or for the fear of the wicked, or for the gain of the clergy—for the heavier the purse the church receives, the surer the release. It is impossible to conceive more ghastly conceptions of the future world than these pictures evinced, or more hideous calumnies against that Being, who was supposed to inflict upon His creatures such unspeakable misery. On one picture the devil is represented bound by red-hot chains, on a burning gridiron in the center of hell. His hands are free, and with these he seizes the lost souls, crushes them like grapes against his teeth, and then draws them by his breath down the fiery cavern of his throat. Demons with hooks of red-hot iron, plunge souls alternately into fire and ice. Some of the lost are hung by their tongues, others are sawn asunder, others are gnawed by serpents, others are beaten together on an anvil, and welded into a single mass, others are boiled and strained through a cloth, others are twined in the embraces of demons whose limbs are of flames. But not only the guilty are represented suffering thus, but also the innocent, who expiate amidst heart-rending tortures the guilt of their fathers.[1] A little boy is represented in his suffering. His eyes are burning like two burning coals. Two long flashes come out of his ears. Blazing fire rolls out of his mouth. An infant is represented roasting in a hot oven. It turns and twists, it beats its head against the roof of the oven in agony of its suffering.

Unable to gaze upon the scene of innocent suffering any longer, we turn from it, trembling with rage. We ask a priest, who chances to be near, what fiend could calumniate thus the good God? And smoothly he replies:

"God was very good to this child. Very likely God saw it would get worse and worse and would never repent, and so it would have to be punished much more in hell. So God, in his mercy, called it out of the world in its early childhood."[2]

We no longer wonder at the stupidity of the people, at the enormous wealth, and still greater power of the clergy, when we remember that the people were inoculated with the belief that the clergy alone could save them from such eternal tortures, and that money was the safest and most potent redeemer, and the never failing mediator for effacing the most monstrous crimes, and for securing ultimate happiness.

We turn from these frightful sights only to encounter more terrible scenes of misery. So far we had gazed upon purely imaginary suffering, now we encounter the real, the intensely real. Everywhere we see the sky lurid from the reflection of the autos da fe, on which thousands of innocently accused victims, suffer the most agonizing and protracted torments, without exciting the faintest compassion. Everywhere we hear the prison walls re-echo the piercing shrieks of women, suffering the tortures preceding their conviction as witches. And once, it was in Scotland, we were the unfortunate spectators of a sight which we never shall forget. While the act of burning witches was being preformed amidst religious ceremonies, with a piercing yell some of the women, half burnt, broke from the slow fire that consumed them, struggled for a few moments with despairing energy among the spectators, until, with wild protestations of innocence, they sank writhing in agony, breathing their last.

And why are these women burnt by the thousands, everywhere, in Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Flanders, Sweden, England, Scotland and Ireland? Because they had entered into a deliberate compact with Satan. They had been seen riding at midnight through the air on a broomstick or on a goat. They had worked miracles thus infringing upon the monopoly of the saints—or had afflicted the country with comets, hailstorms, plagues, or their neighbors with disease or barrenness. And who invents so malicious a falsehood? Often the victims themselves, for, suspected or accused of witchcraft they are at once subjected to tortures, to force a confession of their guilt, and these are so terrible, that death is a release, and so they confess, whatever the witch-courts want them to confess. Many a husband cuts thus the marriage tie which his church had pronounced indissoluble. Many a dexterous criminal directs a charge of witchcraft against his accuser, and thus escapes with impunity.

Everywhere we find the whole body of the clergy, from pope to priest, busy in the chase for gain; what escapes the bishop is snapped up by the archdeacon, what escapes the archdeacon is nosed and hunted down by the dean, while a host of minor officials prowl hungrily around these great marauders. To give money to the priest is everywhere regarded as the first article of the moral code. In seasons of sickness, of danger, of sorrow, or of remorse, whenever the fear or the conscience of the worshiper is awakened he is taught to purchase the favor of the saint. St. Eligus gives us this definition of a good Christian: "He who comes frequently to church, who presents an oblation that it may be offered to God on the altar, who does not taste the fruits of his land till he has consecrated a part of them to God, who offers presents and tithes to churches, that on the judgment day he may be able to say: "Give unto us Lord for we have given unto Thee;" who redeems his soul from punishment, and finally who can repeat the creeds or the Lord's prayer."

Bad as we find their greed, we find their moral corruption indescribably worse. Void of every sting of conscience, drunken, lost in sensuality and open immorality. In Italy, a bishop informs us, that were he to enforce the canons against unchaste people administering ecclesiastical rites, no one would be left in the Church, except the boys. Everywhere, clergymen, sworn to celibacy, take out their "culagium," their license to keep concubines, and more than one council, and more than one ecclesiastical writer we find speaking of priestly corruption far greater than simple concubinage, prominently among whom they mention, Pope John XXIII, abbot elect of St. Augustine, at Canterbury, the abbot of St. Pelayo, in Spain, Henry III Bishop of Liege, and they enumerate the countless nunneries, that are degraded into brothels, and are flagrant for their frequent infanticides.

There is scarcely a need for our reporting concerning the influence, which this moral depravity of the Church has upon the masses. We find that the ignorance and the corruption and the bigotry made the people fully as ignorant and corrupt and vicious. The pernicious doctrine already adopted in the fourth century, that it is an act of virtue to deceive and lie, when by that means the interests of the church might be promoted,[3] leads the people to the conclusion that nothing can be possibly wrong, which leads to the promotion of the Church's interests and finances. And so crimes are perpetrated, wrongs committed, deceptions practiced, vice indulged without a pang of conscience, or a throb of the gentler emotions. Ignorance deadens every finer feeling, and religion, instead, of elevating man's moral nature, crushes it by the opportunities it offers for canceling crime with money, and for saving the soul from eternal torture and damnation by increasing the clergy's opportunities for debauchery.

We next look for the intellectual accomplishments, but we look in vain. The masses are intensely ignorant. The clergy can not instruct them, neither would they, if they could. Knowledge among the masses would have seriously interfered with their all-controlling power, as it really did in later centuries. This ignorance is fully shared by the secular chiefs of the land. Kings repudiate book-learning as unworthy of the crown, and warlike nobles despise it as disgraceful to the sword. It is a rare thing, and not considered an accomplishment, to find a warrior who can read or write. To suppose that he can write is to insult him by mistaking him for an ecclesiastic. No less a personage than Philippe le Bel, the powerful monarch of United France who conducts foreign wars and exterminates the Templars, signs his name with the sign of the cross or a rude arrow head, as late as the thirteenth century. Let us not forget, that nearly three hundred years earlier in the world's history, we had found public schools, academies, universities, libraries, poets, artists, scientists and philosophers flourishing among the Moors and Jews of Cordova—had seen Al Hakem the Caliph, writing a digest on the fly-leaves of the contents of each of his books in his great library.

We next look for the Industries, and there is little to be found that can be honored with that name. A belief prevails among the people that the millenium, the end of the world, will set in, amidst terrible sufferings at the year 1000. This belief stifles industry, and property and wealth are turned over to the Church for the sake of the soul's release. Next come the Crusades and these sap Europe of the flower of its people, who leave by the thousands and hundreds of thousands (and of which numbers but few return), to keep the Moslems out of Jerusalem, while the aged and the infirm, the women and children, eke out a miserable existence at home, feeding on beans, vetches, roots, bark of trees—often horseflesh and mare's milk furnish a delicious repast. During the intervals between the various Crusades those few who return, are so accustomed to their roving and plundering life that it is impossible for them to settle down to mechanical or industrial pursuits.

The Jews devote themselves almost exclusively to the industries, and for this they suffer much. Commerce is not safe. The feudal lords descend from their fortresses to pillage the merchant's goods. The highways are besieged by licensed robbers, who confiscate the merchandise, murder the owners, or sell them as slaves, or exact enormous ransoms. Might makes right, and the most powerful are the most distinguished for their unscrupulous robberies. Their castles, erected on almost inaccessible heights among the pathless woods, become the secure receptacles of predatory bands, who spread terror over the country and make traffic and enterprise insecure and next to impossible. And as it is on land so it is at sea, where a vessel is never secure from an attack of the pirates, and where neither restitution nor punishment of the criminals is obtained from governments, which sometimes fear the plunderer and sometimes connive at the offense.

The political state of Europe we find still worse. The word liberty has not yet found its way into the dictionaries of the people. By far the greater part of society is everywhere bereaved of its personal liberty.

Everyone that is not Noble is a slave. Warfare is the rule of the day. The Church tramples upon kings and nobles; these, in their turn, such is the prestige of the feudal system, tyrannize over the next lower order, the next lower order apes the example of its superior upon its inferior, and so on from lower to lower caste, till the lowest, the peasants, who have sunk into a qualified slavery called serfdom. The fight for supremacy between Church and State, the dreadful oppression of the several orders of feudalism, convulses society with their perennial feuds, the pride of the countries are either cruelly butchered or employed more frequently in laying waste the fields of their rivals, or putting the destructive firebrand, or the ruthless sword upon the prosperity of their foe, than improving their own.

Let this report, meager as it is, suffice. The ignorance and misery and suffering and cruelties that abound everywhere are too revolting to tempt a longer stay. Like Ajax, we pray for light. Away from the jaws of darkness.

Ye sailors, ho! furl your sails, raise the anchor, clear the harbor. And thou goodly vessel, staunch and strong, hie thee straight across the foaming deep. And thou, O Aeolus, blow cheerily and lustily thy southern winds upon us. And thou, O Neptune, speed thou our course, haste us back again to fair Andalusia, to beauteous Cordova, for there is no spot on earth like Cordova, "the city of the seven gates," "the tent of Islam," "the abode of the learned," "the meeting place of the eminent," the city of parks and palaces, aqueducts and public baths, the city of chivalrous knights and enchanting ladies.

Aeolus and Neptune answer our prayer. The goodly ship she spins along. "She walks the waters like a thing of life." Soon the lands we eager seek will be descried, and, once again upon the sunny shore, we shall continue our observations, and freely share them with our friend upon Columbia's virgin soil.

CHAPTER IV.
OUR RETURN TO CORDOVA.

CORDOVA AT DAY-BREAK.—THE MOHAMMEDAN SABBATH.—THE YOUTH OF CORDOVA DISPORTS ITSELF UPON THE WATER.—SONG.—CHALLENGE BETWEEN OARSMAN.—THE MUEZZIN'S CALL.—THE GREAT MOSQUE.—A SERMON.—CHASDAI IBN SHAPRUT, THE JEWISH MINISTER TO THE CALIPH.—DUNASH IBN LABRAT.—ON THE WAY TO ABDALLAH IBN XAMRI, THE MOORISH POET.

Again our light-winged boat glides upon the broad and silvery bosom of the majestic Guadalquiver, along parks filled with flowering shrubs, along glittering palaces and song-resounding woods, along palmy islets, and sweet scented and crimson-tinted hills.

It is an early spring morning, nearly 1,000 years back in the world's history. Our boat makes a sudden turn, and Cordova, all glistening in the morning dew, raises her head as if from a bath in the crystal stream. Aurora, goddess of the dawn, blushes in the sky, and with her rosy fingers she sports playfully with the golden tresses of Andalusia's fairest daughter. It is morn,

"When the magic of daylight awakes

A new wonder each moment, as slowly it breaks;

Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth everyone

Out of darkness, as if but just born of the sun."

It is with difficulty that our agile oarsman, the raven-locked and graceful featured Jewish youth, whose services as guide we have again secured, makes his way among the countless pleasure boats that ply to and fro. We marvel at this, for distinctly we remember how the broad stream was furrowed during our first visit by boats of traffic only. "It is Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath," our guide informs us, and we no longer wonder. The boats, some gilded, some festooned, some decked with the richest tapestry, are peopled with gay and happy pleasure seekers. The whole youth of Cordova seems to disport itself upon the water. The air re-echoes their merry laughters and their music:

"From psaltery, pipe and lutes of heavenly thrill,

Or there own youthful voices, heavenlier still."

The winged chorister of the woods and parks take up the refrain, and warble their sweetest, as if in contest with voices human for supremacy in song. But what is most strange and most charming is the continual challenge between the oarsmen for repartee songs, which are either extemporized at the moment, or quotations from their numerous poets. A boat crosses our path, stays our course, and its oarsman to test our guide's readiness to sing Cordova's praise, thus begins in the sweet tones of the poetic Arabic tongue:

"Do not talk of the court of Bagdad and its glittering magnificence.

Do not praise Persia and China, and their manifold advantages,

For there is no spot on earth like Cordova,

Nor in the whole world beauties like its beauties."

To which our guide instantly replies, with a sweet and pure tenor voice:

"O, my beloved Cordova!

Where shall I behold thine equal.

Thou art like an enchanted spot,

Thy fields are luxuriant gardens,

Thy earth of various colors

Resembles a flock of rose colored amber."

The challenging oarsman had met his peer. He is pleased with the reply and clears the path. Now our oarsman impedes the path of a boat, and taking for his theme, "The Ladies," challenges its oarsman thus:

"Bright is the gold and fair the pearl,

But brighter, fairer, thou, sweet girl.

Jacinths and emeralds of the mine,

Radiant as sun and moon may shine,

But what are all their charms to thine?"

To which the challenged replies:

"The Maker's stores have beauties rare,

But none that can with thee compare,

O pearl, that God's own hand hath made;

Earth, sky and sea,

Compare with thee,

See all their splendors sink in shade."

We have reached the landing place. Again we tread in the streets of Cordova, that had surprised and delighted us so much during our first visit. We have not advanced far, when suddenly there breaks on our ear a voice, loud and mighty, as never heard before. We look in the direction whence the voice comes, and on the graceful balcony around the "minaret"—the "muezzin," who calleth, with a solemn power in his living voice, which neither flag, trumpet, bell nor fire could simulate or rival, the Faithful thus to prayer:

"Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Come to the Temple of Salvation! Great God! Great God! There is no God except God!"

At the sound of the muezzin's call, the throngs that crowd the streets hasten their steps, while some few stop, and turning towards the Kiblah—(point of the heaven in the direction of Mecca, which is indicated by the position of the minarets,) either prostrate themselves upon the ground, or, folding their arms across their bosom, bow their turbaned head to the ground, and raise their heart and voice to Allah. Five times, every day, our guide informs us, the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer. Those who are thus worshiping publicly upon the streets, are for some reasons prevented from attending the mosque, and the Koran allows them to pray in any clean place, and the streets of Cordova are clean indeed. Prayer is great with the Moors, our guide continues. Mohammed has laid great stress upon its efficacy and importance. "It is the pillar of religion and the key to paradise," said he. "Angels come among you both by night and day, when they ascend to heaven God asks them how they left his creatures. We found them, say they, at their prayers, and we left them at their prayers." Even the postures to be observed in prayer he had prescribed. Females in prayer are not to stretch forth their arms, but to hold them on their bosoms. They are not to make as deep inflexions as the men. They are to pray in a low and gentle tone of voice. They are not permitted to accompany the men to the mosque, lest the mind of the worshipers should be drawn from their devotions. Neither are they allowed to worship together with the men. They have their gallery in the mosque fenced in with latticework. No one is permitted to go to prayer decked with costly ornaments or clothed in sumptuous apparel.

While listening to our guide, our feet unconsciously followed the hastening throngs, and before we were aware of it we stood before the "mezquita," the great mosque, the famous edifice which, with its buildings and courts, covers more space than any place of worship in existence, the rival of the Caaba at Mecca, and of the Alaksa of Jerusalem. Like all Moorish architecture, its exterior is very plain. Our guide gives us its dimensions; it is 642 feet long and 440 wide. The height of the Alminar tower is 250 feet.

This is Friday, the "Yawn al Yoma" the great day of assembly for worship, the Mohammedan Sabbath, sacred because on that day man was created, because that day had already been consecrated by the early Arabians to "Astarte," Venus, the most beautiful of the planets and the brightest of the stars; and, also because from that day, Friday (July 16, 622,) the day of the Hegira, begins the Mohammedan calendar. Our guide assures us that there are special services on Friday, that on this day the Mufti expounds some chapters from the Koran, and the "Imaum" (preacher,) delivers a "Khotbeh" (sermon).

We enter through one of the nineteen lofty and massive bronze gates, and the beauties we now behold baffle description.

The "Kiblah" is reached by nineteen aisles, marked by columns of jasper, beryl, verd-antique, porphyry, finely carved, supporting in two directions double horseshoe arches, one above the other. These are crossed by thirty-eight aisles, also composed of columns of different marbles, making thus literally a forest of columns. The ceiling is filled with ovals inscribed with appropriate inscriptions from the Koran, to call the mind of the faithful to contemplation and devotion. From it are suspended 280 chandeliers, which light the vast space with upwards of 10,000 lights.

The "Al Mihrab" at the "Kiblah" end of the mosque is an octagonal niche, the ceiling of which is formed like a shell out of a single block of white marble. Within it is the Shrine of Shrines, containing one of the original copies of the Koran, the one which lay upon the lap of Othman, the third Caliph, our guide tells us, when he was assassinated; it is stained with his life blood. It lies upon a lecturn of aloe wood, put together with golden nails. The doors of the shrine are pure gold, the floor solid silver, inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli. In front of it is the pulpit made of costly woods, inlaid with ivory and enriched with jewels; the nails joining its parts are also of gold and silver. It is the gilt of the Caliph, and the cost exceeds $1,000,000. The Caliph himself drew the plan of the entire edifice, and assisted daily with his own hands in its erection.

Within the mosque there is a court 220 feet long, containing promenades which invite to devout meditations, and reservoirs and fountains for their ablution, for, as our guide informs us, ablution is enjoined by the Koran, with great precision as preparative to prayer; purity of body being considered emblematical of purity of soul.

There is not a seat in the entire edifice; the worshipers are either prostrated upon the floor, which is artistically paved with marble mosaics, or they stand profoundly bent in reverence.[4]

As the Mufti, his careful ablutions being completed, approaches the "Al Mihrab," to take from its sacred Shrine the copy of the Koran, all prostrate themselves on the ground. He opens the book, and with a loud voice he reads the first "sura," chapter:

"Bismillah"—in the name of the most merciful God. Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures, the Most Merciful, the King of the Day of Judgment. Thee do we worship, and of Thee do we beg assistance. Direct us in the right way, in the way of those to whom Thou hast been gracious; not of those against whom thou art incensed, not of those who go astray.

To which the whole congregation responds:

"God, there is no God but He, the Living, the Ever Living; He sleepeth not, neither doth He slumber. To Him belongeth the Heavens and the earth, and all that they contain. He knoweth the Past and the Future, but no one can comprehend anything of this knowledge but that which He revealeth. His sway extendeth over the Heavens and the Earth, and to sustain them both is no burden to Him. He is the high, the mighty. There is no God besides Him, and "Mohammed Resul Allah" Mohammed is the prophet of God."[5] The Mufti now expounds a chapter from the Koran, and at the end of each of its lessons the whole congregation responds, "Amin!" "So be it."

The "Imaum" ascends the pulpit to preach his sermon. He bases his theme upon the chapter just expounded. He speaks of faith and practice, of faith in God, in his angels, in his Koran, in his prophets, in the resurrection and final judgement, in predestination. "Angels," he says, keep continual watch upon each mortal, one on the right hand, the other on the left, taking note of every word or action. At the close of each day they fly up to heaven to write up their report. Every good action is recorded ten times by the good angel on the right, and if the mortal commit a sin the same benevolent spirit says to the angel on the left: "Forbear for seven hours to record it; peradventure he may repent and pray and obtain forgiveness."

He enjoins a reverence for the Al Koran, and a scrupulous obedience to its precepts. In it are written all the decrees of God, and all events past, present or to come. It had existed from all eternity and was treasured up in the seventh heaven, and its contents were finally revealed to Mohammed by the Angel Gabriel.

He speaks of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, as prophets subordinate to Mohammed, whose life and preceipts are worthy of following.

He speaks of predestination, and says that every event is predetermined by God, that the destiny of every individual and the hour of his death are irrevocably fixed, and can neither be varied nor evaded, by any effort of human sagacity or foresight.

He reconciles fate and free-will by saying: "The outline is given us we color the picture of life as we will."

He speakes of Charity, and says that every one must dispense, in one way or the other, a tenth of his revenue in the relief of the indigent or distressed. He speakes of the great virtue of fasting and says: "Prayer leads us half way to God, fastening conveys us to His threshold and alms conducts us into His presence." He enjoins the doing of good and the shunning of evil, and above all an observance of the golden rule.

"If these precepts ye obey," he concludes, "the pleasures of Paradise will be your reward. There you will be clothed in raiments sparkling with jewels. You will wear crowns of gold enriched with pearls and diamonds, and dwell in sumptuous palaces or silken pavilions, reclining in voluptuous couches. Hundreds of attendants, bearing dishes and goblets of gold, will serve you with every variety of exquisite viands and beverage, whenever and in whatever quantity you shall want them. There the air, fragrant with the sweetest perfume, resounds with the melodious voices of the Daughters of Paradise. There, besides your wives you had on earth, who will rejoin you in all their pristine charms, black-eyed Hooreeyahs (Houris) having complexions like rubies and pearls, resplendent beings, free from every human defect or frailty, perpetually retaining their youth and beauty, will constantly attend you, and cheerfully obey your wishes."

"But woe unto you if ye harken not to the words of Allah and Mohammed his prophet! When ye shall pass the bridge, Al Sirat, which is finer than a hair and sharper than a sword, it will break beneath the burden of your sins, and precipitate you into the shadow and smoke and fire of hell."

With a prayer for the welfare of the Caliph and the entire government, the "khotbeh" is ended and the congregation dismissed.

We know that the Moors and Jews are Oriental people, and, therefore, not indigenous to the Occidental soil they now inhabit. Whence came they? Why came they? We are eager for a correct answer to these questions, and knowing none of Cordova's learned men, we think of our distinguished co-religionist. Abu Jussuf Chasdai ben Isaac Ibn Shaprut, the Jewish Physician, Philologist, Minister of Foreign Affairs, of Commerce and Finance to the learned Abder Rahman, and Nasi, or secular chief, of all European Jews. We take the heart to visit him, and with the aid of our guide, we soon are admitted into the house. There we learn that Chasdai Ibn Shaprut had just been summoned to a secret consultation with the Caliph concerning an important embassy that had come from Otto I, Emperor of Germany. We are asked to await his return in his library. There, we are introduced to Moses ben Chanoch, the distinguished Talmudist, to his pupil, Joseph ben Abitur, the translator of the Mishnah into Arabic for the Caliph's library, to Menachem ben Saruk, the grammarian and compiler of the first Hebrew lexicon, and to Dunash ben Labrat, the distinguished poet, who were pursuing their respective studies in the magnificent library of Chasdai, the Jewish favorite Minister to the Caliph.

We state our wish, and Dunash ben Labrat thus replies:

"We know not when our distinguished Nasi will return. If, indeed, it be agreeable to you, I will ask you to accompany me to my friend Abdallah Ibn Xamri, the famous Moorish poet and erudite historian, with whom I have arranged a game of chess for this afternoon's siesta. He will, I know, give you such information concerning the history of the Arab-Moors as you may desire. When this shall have been done, we shall make our way back again, Chasdai will have returned, and he will gladly give you an account of the Entrance of the Jews into Spain."

We cheerfully accept his kind proposal. We are on our way now, and in the following chapter we shall faithfully report all that we shall see and hear.

CHAPTER V.
THE ARAB-MOORS.

ABDALLAH TELLS THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE ARABS.—MIRACLES AT THE BIRTH OF MOHAMMED.—THE ANGEL, GABRIEL, WRITES THE KORAN UPON PALM LEAVES.—TEN DECISIVE YEARS IN THE HISTORY OF RELIGION.—BEAUTIFUL ZELICA.—ARAB-MOORS CHECKED IN THEIR CONQUEST.—QUARREL BETWEEN KING RODERICK AND COUNT JULIEN, FATHER OF THE INSULTED FLORINDA.—JEWS ALLY WITH THE WRONGED FATHER.—ANDALUSIA CONQUERED.

In a beautiful valley on the banks of the Guadalquivir, about five miles from Cordova, within sight of the Caliph's magnificent palace of Medina-al-Zohar (town of the flower) stands the picturesque residence of the Moorish poet, Abdallah Ibn Xamri. Dunash ben Labrat, the distinguished Jewish poet, our new found friend and guide, has no need for a formal announcement. A massive bronze gate opens into a beautifully paved court yard, from the center of which issues the never-failing fountain jet to a dazzling height, diffusing refreshing coolness and making a pleasant patter of the falling drops into the basin. A gallery encircles this court, supported by slender columns of alabaster, from which spring numbers of graceful horseshoe arches. The interspaces above the arches are filled with arabesques, interwreathing striking texts from the Koran in brilliant red and blue and gold. Above these are the latticed windows which light the seraglio.

From this luxurious court we pass through a double archway into another, abounding with tropical plants. Here within the concealment of the densest shade trees, is a very long oblong marble basin, supplied with artificially cooled water. Here, in the early morning and in the evening twilight, the indolent, the warm, the weary bathe in luxurious languor. Here the women meet to disport themselves, while the entrances are guarded by eunuchs against intrusion. From this private court a postern leads into a beautiful garden with mazy walks and blooming parterres, replete with artificial grottoes and kiosks of stained glass, and terraces of polished marbles, and balustrades supported by guilded columns, and ponds filled with gold and silver fishes.

"Here we shall find Abdallah Ibn Xamri," says Dunash ben Labrat; "he delights to take his siesta within yonder pavilion, which is well provided with books and musical instruments. There his beautiful daughter Zelica tunes the lyre as he courts the muses, and her melodious voice has inspired his most wondrous lyric gems."

Abdallah recognizes Dunash's voice, and bids him enter. We obey the summons. Surprise is visible in Abdallah's countenance as he gazes upon our strange faces. Before us stands a typical Moor. His person is well formed. He has an oval face, aquiline nose, long and arched eyebrow, nearly meeting, large restless black eyes, smooth skin, clear olive complexion, full dark hair and beard, and an elastic springy step. His head is covered with a green woolen cap of cylindrical form from which hangs a blue tassel. Over a long straight robe of light cloth, he wears a shorter tunic, elaborately embroidered. Sandals are tied to his feet with strings of twisted silver and gold.

We exchange Salams. Our friend introduces us. In measured rhyme he states that he had brought us to Cordova's distinguished son of the muses to learn from the most authentic source the "History of the entrance of the Arab-Moors into Spain." Abdallah receives us cordially, asks us to recline upon the divan—the cushioned seats running along the walls of the pavilion—he takes his reclining position opposite us, and after a few introductory remarks he speaks as follows:

"The great peninsula, formed by the Red Sea, by the Euphrates, by the Gulf of Persia and by the Indian ocean, and known by the name of Arabia, is the birthplace of our creed. It was peopled soon after the deluge by the children of Shem, the son of Noah. In course of time the brave Yarab established the kingdom of Yemen, whence the Arabs derive the names of themselves and their country. During a long succession of ages, extending from the earliest period of recorded history down to the seventh century, Arabia remained unchanged and unaffected by the events which convulsed the rest of Asia and shook Europe and Africa to their very center. The occupations of the people were trade and agriculture. The former had ports along the coasts, and carried on foreign trade by means of ships and caravans. The nomadic Arabs were the more numerous of the two. The necessity of being always on the alert to defend their flocks and herds made these familiar from their infancy, with the exercise of arms. No one could excel them in the use of the bow, the lance and the scimitar, and the adroit and graceful management of the horse. They were more at home on horseback than on foot. The horse was their friend and companion. They lived and talked with him and lavished upon him their dearest affection, and both were capable of sustaining great fatigue and hardship. The Arabs possessed in an eminent degree the intellectual attributes of the Shemitic race. Penetrating sagacity, subtle wit, a ready conception, a brilliant imagination, a proud and daring spirit were stamped upon their sallow visage, and flashed from their dark and kindling eye. Our language, naturally poetic, made them poets and the most eloquent of men. They were generous and hospitable. Their deadliest foe, having once broken bread with them, could repose securely beneath the inviolable sanctity of their tent. Their religion originally consisted of a belief in the unity of God, in future life, in the necessity of prayer and virtue. This was the creed of Abraham and was brought to them by Ishmael and Hagar. In the course of time it became contaminated with Sabean star worship and Magian idolatry."

"When Palestine was ravaged by the Romans, and the city of Jerusalem taken and sacked, many of the Jews took refuge among them, and gradually many of the tenets of the Jewish faith and practices of the Jewish worship were again insensibly adopted by them. The same refuge Arabia offered later to many Christians who were fleeing from the persecutions of Rome, and these also engrafted gradually, some of their rites and ceremonies and beliefs upon the people. The result was a mixture of religious beliefs, the highest religious principles alternating with the most degrading idolatries. There was no accepted creed, no unified faith."

A great reformer was needed, and the great Allah sent his prophet, Mohammed, to establish the only true faith: Islamism. His birth was accompanied by signs and portents, announcing a child of wonder.[6] At the moment of his coming into the world, a celestial light, illuminated the surrounding country, and the new-born child, raising his eyes to heaven, exclaimed "God is great! There is no God but God, and I am his Prophet." Heaven and earth were agitated at his advent. Palaces, and temples and mountains toppled to the earth. The fires, sacred to Zoroaster, which had burned, without interruption for upwards of a thousand years, were suddenly extinguished, and all the idols in the world fell down. Though his true Messiahship was thus made evident at his birth, and in his youth, he still waited to the age of fully ripened manhood before he made the attempt of establishing the creed, which the angel Gabriel had written down for him upon palm leaves. But when the time had come for raising his own nation from fetichism, from the adoration of a meteoric stone, and from the basest idol worship, he awakened his people out of their religious and political torpor, kindled the fire of enthusiasm among them, and they thirsted after opportunities for contest and conquests.

When death took the sword from his hand ten years later, the whole world trembled at the very mention of his name.

Here Abdallah pauses in his narrative. He touches a silver bell, and soon a maiden appears. This is the first time that we are permitted to gaze upon a Moorish woman's face; those we met in the streets or parks, or saw behind the latticework of the woman's gallery in the mosque, were always clothed in the mantilla, which encircled their entire form, and their faces were always hidden under the face veil, or under the horsehair vizard, which left but the eyes visible. She wears her hair braided. A light cap or cornet, adorned with gems, forms the covering for her head. The side locks are entwined with coral beads, hung loosely to chinck with every movement. Full white muslin trousers are tied at the ankle with golden strings that end in merry little silver bells. A long full white mantle of transparent muslin covers the tight-fitting vest and jacket of silk, both of brilliant colors, and embroidered and decorated with woven gold. Around her neck and arms and wrists she wears chains, necklaces and bracelets, of gold, and of coral and pearls and amber.

He whispers something in her ear, and immediately she disappears, light as an angel shape. A deep silence ensues. At that moment we think not of Mohammed, the founder of a new faith and the conqueror of the world, but of Zelica, Abdallah's daughter, that beauteous maiden, whose complexion vies with the rubies and white jasmine flowers she wears more radiant still when her dazzling eyes drooped, and when the scarlet hue of innocence mantled her face as her glance met the eyes of men and strangers.

Abdallah had ordered refreshments. Servants appear and spread an embroidered rug upon the floor. Upon it they place a low tray, set with silver and fine earthenware, and provided with the choicest of fruits, confections and sherbets flavored with violet. Low cushions are placed around it, upon which we, following the example of our host and guide, seat ourselves with our legs crossed. Before eating, a servant pours water on our hands from a basin and ewer. The meal begins with "Bismilah" for grace. A very interesting conversation, displaying great learning and much reading, is carried on between the two poets, as to whether Cordova or Bagdad leads the world in literature, art, science, and philosophy. Abdallah champions Cordova, Dunash favors Bagdad, his native home.

The delicious repast is ended. The floor is cleared, Abdallah resumes his narrative.

"The successors of Mohammed," says he, "followed in the footsteps of our prophet. They passed beyond the confines of Arabia, and persecuted their work of converting the world, giving to the conquered the choice between the Koran, or Tribute, or Death. In less than fifty years after the Prophet's death, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Mesopotamia, Persia, Armenia, Asia Minor had accepted the religion of Mohammed. In Jerusalem a mosque stood on the site where once the temple of Solomon stood. In Alexandria the Mohammedans wrought direful vengeance on Christians for the crimes which the arrogant and fanatical St. Cyril had committed there two centuries before, by extirpating Grecian learning and by inciting his monks to murder the wise Hypatia."

The extreme northern part of Africa brought their armies to a sudden halt. Here they encounter two strong foes. First, the people called Berbers "the Noble," a tall, noble looking race of men, active, high-spirited and indomitable. They had the same patriarchal habits, the same Shemitic features, were equally skilled in the use of arms and the breeding and handling of horses, and so the Arabs believed them to be of their own race. This Northern coast of Africa has been called by the Romans, from the dark complexion of its people: Mauritania, and its people were called Mooriscos, or Moors. When the superior force of the Arabians compelled the Moors to submit at last, the conquerors and the conquered coalesced so completely, that in less than a decade the one could not be distinguished from the other.

"The second foe, however, who inhabited the Northern extremity of Almagreb, where the continent of Africa protrudes boldly to meet the continent of Europe, was not so easily overcome. The rock-built city of Ceuta was garrisoned by Spanish soldiers, and its brave commander, Count Julian, defied the valiant Amir Musa Ibn Nosseyr, the Hero of Two Continents. It seemed as if Islamism had reached its limit, that it would never set its foot upon beautiful Andalusia, at which it had so often cast its wistful eye. But Allah favored the onward march of the religion of the Prophet! The wrong done by the wicked Roderick, King of Spain, to the young and beautiful Florinda, daughter of Count Julian, the brave commander of Ceuta, opened Europe to the Arab-Moors. "By the living God," exclaimed the insulted father. "I will be revenged."

He soon found willing allies, consisting of the nobles, who could no longer endure the despotism of King Roderick, and of the Jews, who had been expelled from Spain. Encouraged by these allies Count Julian entered into negotiations with Amir Musa for the delivery of Spain into his hands. Musa accepted cheerfully.

"Long had the crimes of Spain cried out to Heaven:

At length the measure of offence was full.

Count Julian called the invader."

"Mad to wreak

His vengeance for his deeply injured child

On Roderick's head, an evil hour for Spain,

For that unhappy daughter, and himself.

Desperate apostate, on the Moors he called,

And, like a cloud of locusts, whom the wind

Wafts from the plains of wasted Africa,

The Mussulman upon Iberia's shores

Descends. A countless multitude they came:

Syrian, Moors, Saracen, Greek renegade,

Persian, and Copt, and Latin, in one band

Of Islam's faith conjoined, strong in the youth

And heat of zeal, a dreadful brotherhood."

The valiant Tarik crossed with a selected force, the strait between the Pillars of Hercules, which is now named after him "Gibr-al-Tarik" (Gibraltar), "the rock of Tarik." On the 24th of July, 711, the two armies met at the river of Guadalete, not far from Xeres, and after a three days' battle a small force of picked men, the indomitable horsemen of the desert, routed 80,000 Spaniards, amidst terrible carnage. Tarik pressed eagerly forward. Cordova, Malaga, Toledo, Merida, surrendered after little or no opposition. In six years later the Arab-Moors were complete masters of Spain, and have been so unto this day."

Abdallah has ended his narrative. Unconsciously, it seems, he takes the lute at his side, and running his fingers over the strings, he strikes a few chords and finally, as if desirious of supplementing his version of the entrance of Arab-Moors into Europe, he makes the lute accompany his recital of some of the songs and verses he had composed in commemoration of the victory of the Arab-Moors over fair Andalusia, and which have since become as popular in Bagdad and Antioch as in Cordova or Granada. We wish, but our wish is in vain, that Zelica might return to her wonted task, that her young and melodious voice might blend with the melting strains of the Moorish bard.

The heroic theme inspires Abdallah more and more. He begins to improvise. He defends Florinda, whom the Spaniards execrate, and name "La Cava"—"the Wicked." He sings of Roderick's entering the cave over which was written: "The king who opens this cave and discovers its wonders will learn both good and evil," and, how upon entering it he read this fatal inscription on the walls: "Unhappy King, thou hast entered in an evil hour. By strange nations thou shalt be dispossessed, and thy people degraded." He sings of the combat between Tarik and Roderick. He sings of the captive queen Egilona. He sings of the jealousy between Musa and Tarik, and of other themes, heroic and beautiful.

The muezzin's summons to evening prayer stops his muse, and makes our hasty departure necessary, for it is Friday evening, and the distance to the synagogue is long. We part hastily. Before leaving, however, Abdallah exacts a promise from Dunash that he will send for him whenever Chasdai ben Isaac, the distinguished Jewish Minister to the Caliph, shall tell us the History of the Entrance of the Jews into Spain.

RODERICK'S LAMENT.

A SPANISH NATIONAL BALLAD.
Translated by J. G. Lockhart.

The host of Don Rodrigo were scattered in dismay,

When lost was the eighth battle, nor heart nor hope had they;

He, when he saw the field was lost, and all his hope was flown,

He turned him from his flying host and took his way alone,

His horse was bleeding, blind, and lame, he could no farther go,

Dismounted, without path or aim, the king stepped to and fro.

It was a sight of pity to look on Roderick,

For sore athirst and hungry he staggered faint and sick.

All stained and strewed with dust and blood, like to some smouldering brand

Pluck'd from the flame, Rodrigo shew'd. His sword was in his hand;

But it was hacked into a saw of dark and purple tint;

His jewell'd mail had many a flaw, his helmet many a dint.

He climbed unto a hill-top, the highest he could see,

Thence all about of that wild route his last long look took he.

He saw his royal banners where they lay drenched and torn,

He heard the cry of victory, the Arabs' shout of scorn.

He look'd for the brave captains that had led the hosts of Spain,

But all were fled except the dead, and who could count the slain?

Where'er his eyes could wander, all bloody was the plain;

And while thus he said the tears he shed ran down his cheeks like rain:

"Last night I was the King of Spain, to-day no king am I;

Last night fair castles held my train, to-night where shall I lie;

Last night a hundred pages did serve me on the knee,

To-night not one I call my own, not one pertains to me.

"O luckless, luckless was the hour, and cursed was the day

When I was born to have the power of this great seigniory;

Unhappy me that I should live to see the sun go down this night,

O Death, why now so slow art thou, why fearest thou to smite?"

CHAPTER VI.
A SABBATH EVE IN CORDOVA.

THE SYNAGOGUE OF CORDOVA.—THE DAUGHTERS OF ISRAEL PREPARING FOR THE SABBATH.—THE THRONE OF THE "NASI."—RABBI MOSES BEN CHANOCH.—THE ELOQUENCE OF SILENCE.—A TEARFUL SCENE.—THREE RABBIS TAKEN CAPTIVE BY PIRATES.—EVIL DESIGNS AGAINST CHANOCH'S YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL WIFE.—SOLD AS SLAVE TO CORDOVA.—HIS MIRACULOUS RISE.

A paved walk, guarded on each side by majestic cypress trees, winding its course along terraced gardens and near refreshing fountains, leads up to the lofty eminence on which stands the only synagogue of Cordova. Almost breathless we reach the height. We express our surprise that the Synagogue, visited twice daily, and thrice on the Sabbath day, should have been located so inconveniently, to which our distinguished friend Dunash ben Labrat replies: "Such is the custom in Israel, both Solomon[7] and Ezra[8] have established the custom of building the Synagogue on a lofty eminence, and the Talmud teaches: "The city whose houses are higher than its houses of worship will be destroyed."[9]

Before entering, we pause awhile to cast our eyes about us. Were we standing on Mount Moriah, of deathless memory, with the gorgeous temple of Solomon before us, and with the sacred scenery of Jerusalem and her environments about us, even such scenes could not have awed us more than those which fascinate our heart and mind on the temple-mount of Cordova, the brightest gem in the proud diadem of fair Andalusia.

At the foot of the mount glides the silvery Guadalquivir. The blushing sun is sinking behind the azure hills, and houses and synagogues and foliage and fountain and river, all are crimson tinted, while the fleecy cloudlets, that float in his radiant tracks, are resplendent with colors of purple and violet and gold and red. The evening star sparkles in the rosy sky so benignly, as if it were the eye of God, pleased at seeing His "chosen people" hasten to prostrate themselves before His footstool. The golden glimmering vapors, that rise from beneath the illumined horizon into infinite space, seem to vault over the Synagogue, as if bestowing celestial Sabbath blessing over its worshipers. All nature around us inspires to worship. The nightingales have begun their evening hymns, and the air is loud with the soft melting notes of the skylarks, who sing their sweet "Good Night" to the sunken sun. Our soul, too, is filled with a yearning to commune with God, and so we turn toward the synagogue.

Like the mezquita (mosque) its exterior facade is plain and unnoteworthy. We enter the high and spacious vestibule, and our eye is dazzled with all the magnificence, with the harmonious blending of colors, with the costly, but chaste ornamentations. The cupola above admits a free circulation of air, bringing the sweet fragrance of the surrounding gardens. On the one side is heard the refreshing sound of the flowing waters within the reservoirs for ablution, and on the other side the soft splash from the fountain jets in the garden.

Within the synagogue proper, clusters of delicate columns of various marbles and of costly woods, support double galleries, one above the other, with lattice work in front, that the black-eyed and raven-locked and comely-featured Hebrew women may not draw the mind of the worshipers beneath from their devotions. The galleries are empty now. The Hebrew women do not attend the service of the Sabbath Eve. They are at home awaiting the return of their husbands, fathers, brothers. All day long have they been busy in the preparation for the Sabbath. The house has been put in order. The choicest that means would allow and the market afford has been secured and prepared for the festive Sabbath meal. Upon the table, decked with snow white linens, and with the tempting dishes, burn the lights in the heavy silver candlesticks, and the traditional seven-armed Sabbath lamp, suspended from the center of the ceiling, having been lighted with Sabbath benedictions by the queen of the house, sheds a hallowed light over mother, wife and daughter, who are attired in their neatest, and whose countenances are flushed from the day's busy task, and whose eyes beam, and whose hearts beat with joyous expectations.

But we have strayed from the description of the galleries of the synagogue to the women in their homes. What wonder the Spanish Jews had need of their latticed railings!

The interspaces between the graceful horseshoe arches and the ovals in the ceiling are delicately pencilled with brilliant colors, and the walls are filled with arabesques interwreathing appropriate Hebrew texts.

The wall to the east, the direction towards Jerusalem, holds the Haichal, the shrine, in which is kept the Thora, the parchment scrolls of the Pentateuch.

The shrine is canopied by a wondrously designed shell-shaped covering, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, ivory and silver. A curtain of silk and woven gold, and decorated with gems of chrysolite and emeralds and sapphires, serves as a screen to this "Holy of Holies." Over this shell-shaped canopy is an illuminated window of artistic workmanship, inscribed in brilliant colors with the words, "Yehi Or," "Let there be light." The moon, queen of the night, rides in the cloudless sky, and she sends her peerless light through this double-triangled window, and the effect is most sublime.

Suspended from the ceiling, and directly in front of the curtain is the Ne'er Tamid the "Perpetual Lamp," famous for its wondrous beauty and for its priceless value, the gift of the mother of Chasdai ben Isaac, and its mellow light sends a hallowing influence over the congregants. Beneath it are the pyramidal steps, from which the descendants of the High-Priest Aaron bestow, on the great holidays, the priestly blessings upon the congregation. To the right and left of these stand the M'noroth, the high seven-armed candelabra, a faithful copy of the Biblical design[10].

In front of the steps stands the throne-like chair, in which is seated Chasdai ben Isaac, the Nasi, secular head of all European Jews, the Resh Kallah, President of the Academy for the Talmudical Sciences at Pumbadita in Babylonia, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and of Commerce, and of Finance to the Caliph Abderrahman III.

To the right of the shrine, on a raised platform, are seated Rabbi Moses ben Chanoch, the Dayan, the chief judge and chief rabbi of all European Jews; at his right the Sh'liach Hazibur, the Reader, is seated; at his left his Chief Assistant Dayan; at his feet sit the most advanced disciples of his far-famed academy.

To the left of the "Shrine" is seated the Rosh Hak'neseth, the President of the congregation; behind his chair stands the Chazan Hak'neseth, the beadle, to his right and left the officers of the congregation are seated, at their feet sit the elders.

These three groups sit with their faces towards the congregation, while the congregation faces the shrine. In the center of this capacious interior is the "Almemor," or the "Bimah," a spacious elevated platform of magnificent design. A balustrade encircles this platform, whose balusters, as well as those of the graceful stairways that lead up to the platform on both sides, are of delicate alabaster columns. On this "Bimah" is the Reader's desk, and the Rabbi's pulpit, placed there, that the vast audience may have the opportunity of advantageous hearing.

From the ceiling great chandeliers are suspended, which shed a shower of light upon the host of worshipers, and streaming through the inexpressibly beautiful stained-glass windows, the synagogue, that towers high above the city of Cordova, sheds its benign rays of holiness and peace and good will over the city and all its people.

The floor of the vestibule is composed of marble, mosaics and glazed tiles, so joined as to form various complicated patterns of surpassing beauty. The floor of the synagogue is covered with embroidered Persian carpets.

Though the seats are filled, and the officers are in their respective places—

"No sound is uttered—but a deep

And solemn harmony pervades."

Verily, the Hebrews understand the essence of worship well. There is in every prayerful soul that indefinable yearning and longing after the infinite, after the highest and the sublimest that can give eloquent utterance in deep silence only. The soul may stammer forth its wants and its thanks, but its deepest, innermost feelings never. Therefore have the Jews established the custom that the service of expression shall ever be preceded by the still more sacred service of silent meditation.

The strange surroundings, and the wondrous sights, have so completely taken hold of our mind that it cannot find that calm repose so necessary for silent devotion, and so, while the others are lost in meditations our mind, continues its observations.

Two men rivet our attention. The one is Chasdai ben Isaac, one of those awe-and-respect-commanding and love-and-confidence-inspiring appearances we meet with but rarely in life. His features present an embodiment of three distinct races. His high and square forehead, his deep-set eye, his aquiline nose, his prominent chin, indicative of profound wisdom, of capacities to command and of great will power; these bespeak the Palestinian Hebrew. The grace and comeliness of the figure bespeak the Moor. His tall, majestic form, full of life and vigor, bespeak the European Visigoth.

No less attractive is the person of Rabbi Moses Ben Chanoch. There is something strange and fascinating in his intelligent countenance. Some strange, sweet melancholy seems to hover about his eyes. The lines of his face fall into an expression of mild suffering, of endurance sweetened and sustained by holiness and resignation to God's will. He seems to be more deeply lost in meditation than any of the rest. Now and then his forehead wrinkles, and his lips quiver, as if in pain, and his teeth close, as if suppressing a cry of anguish.

Is the great and learned and pious Rabbi, revered wherever a Jewish heart beats, whether in Asia or in Africa or in Europe, through whom the light of Eastern learning, which, by the dispersion of the illustrious teachers, and by the final closing of the great schools, seemed to have been extinguished forever, suddenly rose again in the West in renewed and undiminished splendor, is he really lost in pious meditations? We have our suspicions, and may God pardon us if we suspect him wrongfully.

"There are moments when silence, prolonged and unbroken,

More expressive may be than all words ever spoken,

It is when the heart has an instinct of what

In the heart of another is passing."[11]

It may be, he recalls the day of his departure from Sura, in company with his young and beautiful wife, and his little son, and three other young and eminent rabbis, Rabbi Sahamaria ben Elchanan, Rabbi Chuschiel and Rabbi Nathan ben Isaac Kohen, for the purpose of raising funds for the academy at Sura, which was then in its last throes. He is recalling, perhaps, the harrowing scene when they were taken captive along the Italian coast by the Spanish-Moorish pirate, Admiral Ibn Rumachis. His quivering lips and wrinkled brow and his suppressed cry of anguish betray his thinking of the evil designs which the pirate admiral carried in his foul heart against his young and beautiful wife; how she, the pious and innocent, preferring death to infamy, had asked him, concealing the motive: whether there is resurrection for those who perish in the sea; and how he, unsuspecting, answered in the affirmative, basing it upon Psalm lxviii: 23. "The Lord said, I will bring again from Bashon, I will bring again from the depths of the sea," how she, no sooner had the answer been given, plunged into the sea, and the raging billows swallowed his young and beautiful wife, the mother of his young and only child.

Hence, his wrinkled brow and quivering lip and melancholy expression on the blessed Sabbath eve. No illuminated home awaits him. No wife that has cheerfully labored all day long to prepare for the festive reception of the Sabbath. No wife to greet him with her cheery smile, and with her wise and pure and holy converse to dispel the cares and worries of the week. No mother to press his child against her love-beating bosom and call him, too, "My own sweet child."

His thoughts continue in their wandering. He recalls the day when he was sold as slave to Cordova; how he was ransomed by the Jewish community, though his quality and learning were unknown; how he entered, one day, the school for Talmud studies, over which Rabbi Nathan, "Dayan" of the Jews of Cordova, presided; how he, ashamed of his costume of sackcloth, seated himself in a corner, at a respectful distance from the disciples; how he, aroused, at last, by the false decisions of the ignorant Rabbi Nathan, forgetting in his excitement his humble state, and his costume of sackcloth, ventured to correct, with becoming modesty, the decisions rendered; how all eyes had turned towards the poor slave; how, to draw forth his learning, Rabbi Nathan entered into a debate with him, in which he evinced such profound scholarship that Rabbi Nathan exclaimed with enthusiastic admiration.

"I am no longer Head of this School—Yon slave in sackcloth is my master, and I his disciple."

His mind continues in its reveries. He recalls how he had been installed by acclamation as Head of the Jewish community; how he had gained the favor of Chasdai and of the Caliph; how his great school was founded and is flourishing now, and is the most famous in the Jewish literary world.

His face becomes more and more placid. He recognizes the finger of God in his fate. His capture, and that of his three colleagues, he sees now, has been providential. They had been destined to carry the knowledge from the schools of Babylon to Africa and Europe. His colleagues had fared equally as well. Rabbi Sahamaria ben Elchanan had been sold as a slave to Alexandria, where he, too, was ransomed by the Jewish community, and later he also established a flourishing school at "Misr" (Kahira). Rabbi Chuschiel met with the same fate. He was sold to Kairuan, on the coast of Africa, and there he, too, opened a school. Rabbi Nathan ben Isaac Kohen was sold to Narbonne, France, and, as if fate had so ordered it, he too opened a flourishing school at that place. He would have continued his reveries had not the "Sh'liach Hazibur" aroused him, who leaves his side, and mounting the "Almemor," takes his place at his desk. The services are to begin, and so we, too, must cease our observations, and unite with our co-religionists in their joyous and reverential greeting of the weekly Sabbath, the blessed Day of Rest.

CHAPTER VII.
A SABBATH EVE IN CORDOVA
(CONTINUED.)

THE EVENING SERVICE.—A BEAUTIFUL CUSTOM IN ISRAEL.—HONORED WITH AN INVITATION TO CHASDAI'S HOUSE.—ILLUMINATED STREETS.—THE TWO ANGELS.—AN IDEAL SABBATH IN AN IDEAL HOME.—THE PRAISE OF THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN.—A FATHER'S BLESSING.—PRESENTED TO THE LADIES.—THE EVENING MEAL.—THE JEWISH KINGDOM OF THE KHOZARS.

The "Sh'liach Hazibur," (Reader) has taken his position before the lecturn upon the "Bimah." From a voluminous parchment folio he chants the beautiful and joyous Psalms xcv, xcix, cii, in that fascinating musical recitative, peculiar to Hebrew liturgy, so joyous and yet so holy, so gay and yet so reverential, so intensely sacred, so religiously elevating as to lift the worshiper on its mighty pinions, gently, from week-day life into the higher and purer Sabbath realm.

The "Reader" and the congregation sing alternate verses. What a grand chorus of human voices! What majestic strains wing their heaven-ward flight! How sublime a music to hear these hundreds of men entune their sacred anthems to God. Sweet is the sound of the melting harp and of the warbling lute, but sweeter than both is the music that rises from the warm human breast. Touching are the strains of the nightingale and the lark, but sublimest and most touching of all is the sacred music that rises from the innermost depths of the strong and masculine heart. Such

"Music religious heat inspires,

It wakes the soul and lifts it high

And wings it with sublime desires,

And fits it to bespeak the Deity."

To hear a man weep, to see his strong bosom melt in tears and his great grief express itself in eloquent sobs, breaks another's heart, to hear him sing with fervor and devotion the praises of God, gives the strongest stay to the human soul. When men sincerely sing religious songs their hearts speak. When we hear the Elders in front, yon saintly patriarchs, laureled with the silver crown of three and four and five score years, mingle their voices with those of the young in the religious songs, we know such songs raise their weary souls above mortal weakness, soften their pain to ease, stay the ruthless hand of fell disease, and force death itself to sheathe, yet awhile, his unsparing scythe, and our lips involuntarily breathe forth the benediction: Praised be Thou, O God, who hast blessed us with the gift of song.

The congregation rises and the "Reader" chants aloud the Borchu, the appeal to the congregation "to worship God, the Worship deserving," to which they answer: "Yea, we will worship God, for deserving of praise is He, now and evermore."

They resume their seats and continue their prayers. They render thanks for the genial hour of twilight, which bids the weary laborer cease, and takes him to his peaceful home, and rewards him there with shelter and with rest. They render thanks for the revealed truths and doctrines conducive to moral good and human excellence, and sincerely they pray, that, as long as in their thoughts and deeds God's word is their law, and that law their light, they may never be without his fatherly care. Again they rise; amidst awe-inspiring solemnity, the "Reader" chants Israel's great creed: "Hear, O Israel, the Eternal, our God is One," to which the worshipers respond in one grand chorus: "Praised be the name of His glorious kingdom forever and aye."

Silent, but fervent, devotion ensues. They express their deathless faith in the God of their fathers, in Him who sustains life, supports the falling, heals the sick, takes to himself the souls of the departed, crowns the week with the blessed Sabbath day, and they conclude praying that God may keep their tongues from evil, their lips from uttering deceit, and arm them with meekness against ill will, that he may impart humility in their soul and faith in their heart; that He may be their support when grief silences their voice and comfort them when woe bends their spirit, that truth may illuminate their path and wisdom be their guide; that He may frustrate every evil device and turn to goodness the hearts of those who devise them.

The "Reader" breaks the silence by taking a goblet of wine, and with it, as the symbol of joy, he entunes the Kiddush, the consecration of the Sabbath as a day of rest and joy and spiritual elevation.

The mourners and those who commemorate the anniversary of the death of some dear departed, rise now and recite the Kaddish, the "Mourner's Prayer," by which they utter even in their painful trials, their pious submission to God's will and to His superior wisdom.

How sublime this mourner's service! How consoling to those who mourn and weep, to those who have mourned and wept, and how instructive to those who are destined to mourn and weep! It is as fraught with goodly lessons for those whom the hand of death has spared as for those who have been afflicted. It is more potent to move the heart than are the most fervent prayers, more eloquent than the most stirring discourses. Would you have your family life the sweetest, the purest, the most blessed, while it lasts, then go to the synagogue, hear the Mourner's Kaddish, and think how that heart must feel that has seen one of its links, neglected while living, go down into the lonely grave, there, where all the acts of charity and kindness, where the choicest of flowers and most expensive of monuments can cheer the silent sleeper no more. Would you have help to overcome jealousy and hatred, contempt and evil thoughts and evil deeds, go to the synagogue, hear the solemn "Kaddish," learn from it that there is a time when regret and repentance come too late to be heard, a time when sobbing and wailing can not pierce the clods. Would you moderate your ambitions and check your appetites, would you see the frailty of the mortal, would you keep your heartstrings vibrating in sympathy with suffering humanity, would you have a clear conception of the ends and aims of life, would you keep your conscience pure, then go to the synagogue, see the mourners rise, and from their sighs and tears learn the lesson that for the proud and the humble, the high and the low, the learned and the ignorant, the rich and the poor, the tyrant and the slave, the king and the servant there is but one common goal, death equalizes them all, his scythe knows no caste, no creed, no name, no fame, no title and no rank.

But we have strayed from the living to the dead, from the joyous to the sorrowful. Let us return to the service.

Again the congregation rises and solemnly they read the "Olenu," the concluding prayer, in which they express their fervent hope to behold soon the splendor of God's majesty, such as will call unbelief to vanish from the earth, will banish wickedness forever, will lead all mortals to recognize and worship the One and Only God, and bring on that glorious day when all men will live together in unity and brotherly peace, and the spirit of enlightenment will reign supreme over all.

Another joyous Sabbath hymn and the services are concluded.

In the vestibule, in the meantime, a number of strangers, showing by their appearance and costume to belong to different countries and to different stations of life, had gathered. They awaited there the conclusion of the services to be invited home for the Sabbath meal, for it is considered a sin in Israel if a brother in faith, be he rich or poor, friend or stranger, passes, or is permitted to pass, the joyous Sabbath Eve by himself, alone and forsaken, and it is regarded an act of piety to grace the festive board of the Sabbath meal with the presence of strangers. And so the company of these strangers is pressingly solicited, and the invitation is cheerfully accepted. Moses ben Chanoch, the Rabbi, and Jacob ben Eleasar, the special messenger, who had on that day returned from the Jewish kingdom of the Khozars, and we, who were cordially greeted after we were presented by our friend Dunash ben Labrat, are the guests of the distinguished "Nasi."

Through whatever streets we pass, the houses inhabited by Jews vie in their brightness with the brilliant illumination of the streets. A bright and cheery home on the Sabbath Eve is a law unto the Jew. "From the house that is cheerfully illuminated on the Sabbath great minds will issue"[12] spoke the Talmud, and it said still more: "When the Israelite leaves the synagogue for his home, on the Sabbath Eve, an Angel of Good and an Angel of Evil accompany him. If, upon entering his home, he finds the table spread, the Sabbath lamp lighted, and his wife and children attired in festive garments, ready to receive him, and in unison with him to bless the Holy Day of Rest, the Good Angel sweetly speaks: "Thy next Sabbath, and all the Sabbaths shall be as bright and as happy as this. Peace unto this dwelling forever," to which the Angel of Evil says a reluctant "Amen." But if no preparations have been made to greet the Sabbath, if light, and song, and thanksgiving do not cheer the inmates of the house, then the Angel of Evil exultingly speaks: "May thy next Sabbath and all thy Sabbaths be as this. Gloom, misery, dissension, unhappiness unto this dwelling forever," to which the Angel of Good, bathed in tears, stammers forth a reluctant "Amen."[13]

Upon entering the palatial residence, the very atmosphere breathes holiness and peace. Scarcely has Chasdai ben Isaac crossed his threshhold, when, in accordance with the established custom in Israel, in a joyous but sacred melody, in which his mother, and wife, and children join, they sing the salute to the Sabbath angels at the domestic hearth, repeating each verse three times. Thus it runs:

"Peace unto you, ye angels of God, ye high messenger from the King of Kings, praised be He."

"May your coming be in peace, ye angels of God, ye high messengers from the King of Kings, praised be He."

"Bless us with peace, ye angels of God, ye high messengers from the King of Kings, praised be He."

"Let your parting be in peace, ye angels of God, ye high messengers from the King of Kings, praised be He."

Then fondly taking his mother by his right hand and his wife by his left, and leading them both lovingly to the center of the room beneath the radiant glow of the hallowed Sabbath lamp, he sings the last twenty-one verses of the last chapter of the Book of Proverbs, that noblest of all noble tributes to the virtuous woman, which reads as follows: "The heart of the husband of the virtuous woman doth safely trust in her, so that he shall not want for gain. She will do him good and not harm, all the days of her life. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh with diligent hands. She is like the merchant ships; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and the day's work to her maidens. She considereth a field and buyeth it. With her fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. She girdeth her loins with strength and maketh strong her arms. She sees that her trading yields good profit; her lamp is kept burning by night. She layeth her hands on the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hands to the poor, yea, she reacheth out her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her children are clothed with scarlet wool. She maketh herself robes, her clothing is silk and purple. Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land. She maketh fine linen and selleth it, and delivers girdles unto the merchants. Strength and honor are her clothing, and she smiles at days to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ordering of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her sons rise up and praise her, her husband also, and he extols her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excelleth them all. Gracefulness is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her the honor that the fruits of her hands deserve; her works are the praise of all in the gates."

The scene of that happy group, Chasdai, the learned and sagacious minister of the Moorish realm, facing his wife and mother, and encircled by his children, singing this glorious tribute to the virtuous women—a weekly tribute that has done much toward establishing the beauty and grandeur of the Jewish family life—the wife, whose beautiful form and features and grace express nobility of character and godliness within, as she lowers her black and musing eyes, as her bosom heaves with tender emotion, and her countenance is mantled with the scarlet hue of innocence at her husband's enumeration of her praises; the queenly mother, majestic and tall as her son, and in her beauty a rival to his beautiful wife, as she holds her eye with speaking pride upon her distinguished son; that scene is for the artist's brush and for the sculptor's chisel. It is too beautiful, too pathetic, too sublime for the feeble tongue or pen.

The children crowd to their father, and kissing them fondly, he lays his hands in blessing upon them. Verily, blessed is the head upon which parents' hands lie in blessing, and blessed are the parents' hands that lie in blessing upon a child's head. We know now whence to trace the cause of Chasdai's greatness and nobility of mind and excellence of character. That happy home life reveals to us the secret of his success. Here is the perennial fountain whence he quaffs daily the sweet draughts of moral goodness and human excellence. Here is that earthly paradise where kindness and good will, and peace, love, joy, reverence, mingle and produce continuous ecstatic bliss.

We are presented to the ladies and a hearty welcome is written on their countenance. We are no stranger to them, for Dunash ben Labrat has kindly announced us in advance, and they are pleased with our presence, for they, too, are longing to hear of the entrance of the Jews into Europe, especially of the entrance into Spain. We are shown our places at the festive board. A servant pours water on our hands from a basin and ewer. Chasdai rises, and filling a goblet with wine, he repeats, in melodious strains, the "Kiddush," the ceremony we had already seen in the synagogue, the consecration of the Sabbath as a day of rest and joy and spiritual elevation within the sacred precints of the home. From beneath a beautifully embroidered cloth he takes the Sabbath loaf, recites the benediction, and breaking it, gives a piece thereof to every diner. And now the meal begins, spiced with excellent conversation, in which the women enter as lively as the men, and more than once their profound knowledge and brilliancy of mind and subtle wit exact from us expressions of admiration. The chief topic of the conversation is concerning the Jewish kingdom of the Khozars, from whom Jacob ben Eleazar had brought the anxiously-awaited news that morning. What we gather from this conversation is this:

West of the Caspian Sea is a powerful kingdom, named "Khozar," before the strength of which the Persian monarchy trembles, and whose favor and alliance is courted by the Greek Empire. Its original inhabitants were a Turcoman tribe, who had gradually abandoned their nomadic habits and maintained considerable commerce. Their capitol, Bilangiar, is situated at the mouth of the Volga, and a line of cities stretches across from thence to the Don. Merchants of all religions, Christians, Mohammedans and Jews, were freely admitted, and their superior intelligence over his more barbarous subjects had induced one of their kings, Bulan (740 A. C.), to embrace the religion of the Jews. His choice between the conflicting claims of Christianity, Mohammedanism and Judaism was decided in this manner: He examined the different teachers apart. He asked the Christians if Judaism was not better than Mohammedanism. To which the Christians replied affirmatively. He asked the Mohammedan teachers if Judaism was not better than Christianity. To which they, too, replied in the affirmative. Both deciding in favor of Judaism, the king embraced the faith of Moses, and induced learned Jewish teachers to settle in his domains. A belief in Judaism is the necessary condition on the accession to the throne. The most liberal toleration of all other forms of faith prevails. But of this Jewish kingdom nothing was known in Spain till Chasdai learned of its existence through the ambassadors of the Byzantian emperor. Chasdai, to assure himself fully of the sovereignty possessed by his brethren, had sent Jacob ben Eleazar as a messenger to them, with a letter to their king, which concluded thus: "Were I sure of the existence of this kingdom I would throw aside all my present honors and positions, and, hastening to it, would throw myself at the feet of a Jewish king and feast my heart and eyes at the sight of his might and splendor." That very day had brought the eagerly looked-for letter from the present King of the Khozars. Chagan Joseph, giving the above information, and concluding thus: "I, too, am desirous of knowing thee and of profiting by thy wisdom. Could my desire be gratified, and could I speak to thee face to face, thou wouldst be to me as a father, and I thy son, and into thy hand would I intrust the government of my kingdom."

The meal was finished and grace was said. Dunash ben Labrat, mindful of the promise he had made to Abdallah ben Xamri to bring him whenever Chasdai would relate to us the history of the entrance of the Jews into Spain, had come with his Moorish colleague, and they are announced. Chasdai leads the way to the library, and we follow.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE ENTRANCE OF THE JEWS INTO EUROPE.

CHASDAI'S LIBRARY.—HIS ACCOUNT OF THE ENTRANCE OF THE JEWS INTO EUROPE.—THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM.—A TERRIBLE CARNAGE.—ISRAEL CEASES AS A NATION.—THE DIASPORE.—THE DAUGHTER-RELIGIONS THRIVE UPON THE SUFFERINGS THEY INFLICT UPON THE MOTHER-RELIGION.—THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF ISRAEL.—HUMILIATED BUT NOT FORSAKEN.

When we were comfortably seated in the magnificent library of Chasdai ben Isaac, which was furnished luxuriantly, and with an eye to ease and comfort, and stocked with thousands of parchment folios, which stood row upon row, from floor to ceiling, in beautifully arched and decorated alcoves, along the walls of the spacious library hall, our host, Chasdai ben Isaac, began:

"My friends, you asked for an account of 'The Entrance of the Jews into Europe.' The task you honor me with is not an easy one. Upon these shelves stand side by side the best that has been written upon History, Theology and Science, the classics, old and new, in their various tongues, both in prose and poetry, all that has been written for and against the religions of Mohammedanism and Christianity and Judaism, and yet among these thousands of volumes you will search in vain for historic traces of the movements of the Hebrew people since their exile from their native soil. Nay, more, you may even look through the vast library of the Caliph, than which exists at present (950 A. C.) none greater upon the face of the earth, and still you will find naught upon this subject. You may consult the most renowned scholars of our age and meet with no better result.

You marvel why so little is known of the History of the Jews during the period that extends from the Diaspore (70 A. C.) to the time of the conquests of the Arab-Moors of Spain, yet you will cease to marvel when you reflect upon the degradations, persecutions, cruelties, sufferings heaped upon them, when you remember that histories are never written of those who are considered outcasts, pariahs, moral lepers, the accursed by God and man, and the so degraded and execrated, the so persecuted and so barbarously treated are not over-zealous to rejoice their scourgers by flaunting the history of their suffering in their face. What I know of that period is little, and that little have I secured only after much labor and diligent research.

Insatiable Rome, she who had made the world her slave, in whose realm the sun ne'er set, and who, to vaunt of so vast a power, had killed in cold blood, and for no offense at all, fully as many as she ever claimed among the living had stretched at last her cruel hand against Palestine, and the "separate" and "peculiar" and sacred land became a heathen heritage. Jerusalem, the Holy City, lay in ruins. Smoking embers marked the site where stood the Temple of Temples, and the glory of Israel fell, and fell forever, and Israel ceased, and ceased forever, as a nation among the nations of the earth.

Rome enacted a carnage within the holy city, the like of which her inhuman legions, with all their multitudinous and murderous experience, had never seen before. What the famine had left the sword consumed, and what escaped the sword fell a prey to the flames, and what remained, after streams of human blood had quenched the flames, dropped dead beneath the pestilence, and they, that had defied all these grim allies of cruel death, were driven into an open space, the tallest and most handsome were reserved to grace the triumphal march of Titus, to be dragged along the streets of Rome with a halter around their neck, and to be executed after the eyes and ears of the Romans had had their fill of the conquered's sufferings; of the rest, all above seventeen years of age were sold to distant countries, to the most cruel servitude, or they were distributed among the provinces to give sport to the people by their gladiatorial combats, fighting for their lives against hungry and ferocious beasts.

One million one hundred and ten thousand Jews perished during this siege; ninety-seven thousand were driven in chains as slaves to distant lands. The old and feeble, and the young and helpless who were spared, not from mercy, but because the Romans for once, weary of their slaughter, and sickened from the loathsome sight and insufferable stench that arose from the heaps of unburied, putrid bodies, were forced to retreat. This pitiable remnant was compelled to take the staff of exile.

Forth they went from their native soil to roam the wide world over. Everywhere homeless, friendless, despised, trodden down, hunted down by man and beast, tortured, an object of derision, a shadow of their former greatness.

And when occasionally a ray of tolerance found its way to these outcast people, and under the spell of its genial warmth the degraded dog was metamorphosed again into a human being, and the Jewish mind awoke again into life, and the Jew, strengthened and rejuvenated and encouraged, dared to enter again into the arena of useful activity, that single ray was at once recalled by priests, who were more cunning and contriving than humane and godly, for only upon the suffering of the mother-religion could the daughter-religion expect to exist. It was feared that the prosperity of Judaism would prove the absurdity of Christianity's and Islam's claims and prophecies. If the Jews are permitted to prosper and flourish and follow their religion, and that religion is shown to be full of life and vigor, what reason for existence have the daughter-religions? Success and prosperity must accompany only that religion which the masses are to accept and follow, and for which superiority is claimed over the others. Such was their sophistical and self-interested reasoning, and so they afflicted and tortured the Jews, denied them every human right, and then kindly and magnanimously credited God with their own wickedness, claiming that God visited these punishments upon the Jews for their rejection of Christ or Mohammed. Hence, the uninterrupted persecutions and sufferings of the Jews.

But God had not withdrawn his guiding hand from His Chosen People. He had cast them down, but he forsook them not. Never before had they been so nigh unto extinction, and still they despaired not. With David they said: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff shall comfort me.'[14] They lost not their faith in God and in their divine mission. They doubted not that there was a meaning to their sudden change of fortune. They believed that as each seed when sown must endure darkness and suffer decay before it can multiply its kind a hundredfold, so had God scattered the children of Israel as seeds among the nations of the earth, and subjected them to threats and sufferings that the number of true believers might increase a thousandfold. They regarded it a special distinction to be chosen by God to spread monotheism and civilization among the children of men.[15]

"This strong faith in the superior wisdom of God's doing was the elixir that preserved them during their indescribable sufferings. This it was that established unconsciously a bond of union among them, scattered though they were, and whithersoever they went, however near to or however far from the land where once stood the cradle of their nation, their temple and palaces, where ruled and sang and spoke their princes and bards and inspired orators of deathless fame, however removed from this dearly beloved center, one past and one future, one hope and one aim, characterized them all and planted within them the seeds of indestructibility.

What wonder then that soon after this terrible national calamity, a disaster from which no other people on the face of the earth could have possibly survived, we hear of large Jewish communities in Asia, Africa and Europe? Some of these were established even before the dissolution of the Jewish kingdom. At the time of Titus numerous Jewish communities existed in the countries bordering on the Euphrates and the Tigris, in Asia Minor on the north coast of Africa, in Greece and in Italy. The Jewish community in Rome was large and influential long before the reign of Titus, having been brought thither as slaves by Pompey, after his conquest of Jerusalem. After the terrible siege of Jerusalem, crowds of exiles wandered to them and swelled their number, and these destitute exiles must have diminished the community's opulence and respectability and popularity, for before the Diaspore Latin authors speak of them as a wealthy and respected community; after this period, the notices of them by Juvenal and Martial are contemptuous, and imply that many of them were in the lowest state of penury, the outcasts of society.

Whatever city in Asia Minor and Greece the Apostle Paul enters he seems to find a synagogue. In some of these cities the Jews seem to have flourished; in most of them, however, they were proscribed as an odious people, and were objects of hatred and abhorrence. The rule seemed to be, in localities where Christianity predominated the Jews suffered; where the Heathens were in power the Jewish communities flourished.

In Italy they were permitted, with few exceptions, to live in peace. Even though Theoderic wrote: "Why should we give them peace in this life, when God will not give them peace in the life to come?" and even though Cassiodorus piously bestowed upon them the flattering appellations of "scorpions, wild asses, dogs," etc., it never came to very serious persecutions, and the valiant defense of Naples by the Jews against the great Belisarius, for which History gives them their deserved credit, clearly shows how the Jew can be patriotic for his adopted fatherland.

Concerning the Jews in Western Europe, we have no knowledge before the second century. When the Franks and Burgundians conquered the Roman colonies in Gaul, the Jews, who had been brought thither as slaves, were classed by the victors, as Romans, and shared equal fate with them. They were permitted to follow agricultural pursuits and trades. Their own ships furrowed the ocean. Jewish physicians were sought by the princes of the Church and of the Realm. As soldiers they distinguished themselves in the warfare between Clovis and Theoderic. Their religious practices were not interfered with, the Jew was everywhere respected by the heathen.

But the sun of their prosperity was extinguished when the heathen kings adopted Christianity. With the change of their religion came a change of heart; the heart that was formerly full of love toward the Jew, turned into stone. The clergy dictated, and the kings and the people obeyed with the sword, and the Jews bled and suffered and perished by the thousands, or were dragged under tortures to baptism into the alone-saving and all-loving church.

So much for the early history of the Jews in France. We now come to the history of the Jews in Spain. That theme is vast. It demands a chapter for itself.

CHAPTER IX.
THE ENTRANCE OF THE JEWS INTO SPAIN.

JEWS SETTLE IN SPAIN DURING THE REIGN OF KING SOLOMON.—JEWISH AGRICULTURAL SKILL MAKES ANDALUSIA THE GARDEN SPOT OF EUROPE.—PROSPERITY THE GREAT CRIME OF THE JEWS.—THE BEGINNING OF JEWISH PERSECUTIONS IN EUROPE.—CRUEL LAWS.—VENGEANCE.—JEWS CONSPIRE WITH COUNT JULIAN AND MOORS AGAINST SPAIN.—VICTORY.—MOORISH APPRECIATION OF THE SERVICES OF THE JEWS.

The week had passed. It was Sabbath Eve once more. Again we assembled in the library hall of Chasdai ben Isaac to listen to the narrative of "The Entrance of the Jews into Spain." When all were gathered Chasdai began and spoke as follows: History is more communicative about the entrance of the Jews into Spain than she is about their entrance into any of the other West European countries. The Bible gives us sufficient basis to build upon the fairly reliable theory that as early as the time of King Solomon (1,000 B. C.) the Iberian peninsula was known to the Israelites, that considerable traffic was carried on between them and the autochtones of the Southwestern corner of Europe, and that a settlement of a Jewish colony within the sunny lands of Andalusia may have taken place then. We have a tradition which tells us, that when in the early days of the Christian era the Jews of Spain were attacked for having crucified Jesus, they claimed that neither they nor their fathers had any share in the crucifixion, that they were the descendants of Jews who lived in Spain long before the time of Christ, and produced a gravestone upon which was inscribed: "This is the grave of Adonirams, the servant of Solomon the king, who came hither to collect the tribute for the king."

We know that when the Romans became complete masters of Spain in the second century B. C. they found a considerable number of Israelites domiciled there. About 60 A. C. the Jewish community of Spain must have been strong and influential enough to make the coming of the Apostle Paul among them necessary.[16]

Crowds of exiles wandered westward and swelled their number after the terrible siege of Jerusalem by Titus, and in addition 80,000 slaves are said to have been transferred thither and sold as slaves and speedily ransomed by their more fortunate brethren. Historic sources are agreed that these Jewish inhabitants of Spain by their passionate fondness for agricultural pursuits, a passion which they had brought along from the Holy Land, soon made Andalusia the garden spot of Europe, and by their industry, frugality, skill in traffic and intellectual powers, they became the pillars of the country's prosperity and acquired great wealth and distinction.

It could not have been otherwise. In habits, aims and ambitions there was an organic difference between the Jews and their warlike fellow citizens. The Romans, as well as the Visigoths, were wedded to military life. Every other calling or pursuit was degrading in their eyes. Trading or tilling the soil was in their eyes only befitting the slave. The uncertainty of their future, their roaming life, their habit of living from plunder, developed in them traits that were just the opposite to those of the Jews. The Jew hated war. His love for home was intense. His industry and frugality, his religious life and his love of study, were proverbial, and so in proportion as the others increased in brutality and ignorance, in poverty and moral corruption, the Jews reached the heights of prosperity, morality and intellect.

That prosperity, however, proved to be their curse. It is a mistake to believe that the greatest crime of the Jews was their faith; it was their prosperity. Idlers and spendthrifts have never yet been thrilled with ecstatic delight at another's prosperity, and never is their venom more poisonous and their wrath more bitter than when the Jew is unfortunate enough to be fortunate. In Spain, as elsewhere, a mighty power of soldiers, and monks, and priests, and dependants, all unproductive laborers, stood arrayed against the handful of Jews, the only productive laborers of the realm, and the battle cry was not the Jews' money, but the Jews' "soul." There was great diplomacy in this battle cry. They knew of the intensity of the Jew's faith in his religion. They knew how he was wedded to the traditions and hopes of his race. They knew that he would cheerfully part with all his treasures rather than sacrifice an iota of his belief. They knew that the industrial, and economical, and intellectual, and peace and home-loving traits of the Jew were so deeply rooted, that he would at once begin anew to acquire again, perhaps for the same end, all that had been cruelly torn from him, just as the bees, nothing daunted by the theft of their painfully hoarded wealth, will start anew to fill the hive. And so, whenever they had need of the money of the Jews, and that need was, alas, a frequent one, they became all at once painfully concerned about the Jewish soul, and its final fate, and they never failed to relieve the Jews of their treasures, even if they failed in the saving of their souls.

Spain took the lead in Jewish persecutions and maintained its odious distinction for centuries. Henceforth there is no lack of historic material concerning the Jews in Spain. But, alas! until the time of the conquest of Spain by the Moors, it is not a history of achievement, it is a history of suffering—a martyrology. That martyrology began with the Third Council of Toledo (589 A. C.) at which Recaredo presented his abjuration of Arianism and was anointed as the first Catholic monarch of Spain. At that council laws were passed, of which the spirit may be comprehended from the following preamble and titles:

"Laws concerning the promulgation and ratification of statutes against Jewish wickedness, and for the general extirpation of Jewish errors. That the Jews may not celebrate the Passover according to their usage; that the Jews may not contract marriage according to their own customs; that the Jews may not practice the Abrahamitic rite; that the Jews bring no actions against Christians; that the Jews be not permitted to bear witness against Christians."

The Jews knew what was wanted; they paid a large sum of money, and the laws remained inoperative till Recaredo's successor, Sisebuto, ascended the throne. This king entered into a league with Emperor Heraclius, with the pious determination of "extirpating the dangerous race throughout the world," and so he issued a law which gave the Jews a year's time to decide whether they would confess Christ and be baptized, or be shaved and scourged, their property confiscated, and themselves forced to leave the country.[17]

Ninety thousand are said to have submitted to baptism, but with them the enforced Christian rite was but a mask for their secret Jewish belief and practices. And they had ample cause for regretting their religious weakness, for baptism did not secure them from new indignities and humiliation. They were despised for their apostacy, and their property was taken from them as if they had not complied with the king's edict. Thousands upon thousands fled to the northern coasts of Africa, and with them fled the prosperity from the Gothic kingdom.

Having once discovered so excellent a source for satisfying their greed for money, they had no intention of letting such golden opportunities escape them. A few years had passed, and the baptized Jews, true to their industrial and economical habits, had hoarded up some wealth with which they might buy life from the infuriated mob, and so the Fourth Council met at Toledo, in the year 633, and enacted the cruel requirement that the children of those, who had accepted Christianity, should be torn, forever, from their parent's heart, to be educated by Christians in the Christian faith. The Sixth Council enacted a law, that every king on his accession shall take an oath, that he will execute all the laws against the Jews, and will issue others equally as severe. Another law enacted the punishment of death upon Christians, who should embrace Judaism, or commit "the monstrous and unutterable crime of pursuing an execrable commerce with the ungodly." The Ninth Council decreed, that all baptized Jews were bound to appear in the church, not only on Christian, but also on Jewish holidays, lest, while they outwardly profess Christianity, they should practice secretly Judaism.

The Twelfth Council, of Toledo, 681, far surpassed its predecessors in the cruelties of its enactments. The preamble complained that "the crafty Jews had eluded all former laws," and then decreed that hereafter 100 lashes would be inflicted upon the naked body, and after that, the offender would be put in chains, banished, and his property confiscated for any of the following offences: For rejecting the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, for not bringing children or servants or dependants to baptism, for observing the Passover, the New Moon, the Feast of Tabernacles, for violating the Christian Sabbath, or the great festivals of the church. The circumcision of a child brought additional tortures, upon the father mutilation, upon the mother the loss of her nose. No marriage was hereafter to be contracted, without solemn obligation that both would become Christians. All subjects of the kingdom who harbored, assisted or concealed the flight of a Jew, were to be scourged, and have their property confiscated. The Jew who read or allowed his children to read books written against Christianity was to suffer 100 lashes; on the second offense the lashes were to be repeated, with banishment and confiscation. No Jew was to hold any office by which he might have authority over Christians.

I shall spare you a recital of the numerous other cruel laws enacted, and the account of the terrible sufferings endured. The land re-echoed the piteous groans and lamentations of the lashed and scourged. Their wealth purchased but temporary immunity and exemption.

"Certainly the heroism of the defenders of every other creed fades into insignificance before this martyr people, who confronted all the evils that the fiercest fanaticism could devise, enduring obloquy and spoliation and the violation of the dearest ties, and the infliction of the most hideous sufferings, rather than abandon their faith. For these were no ascetic monks, dead to all the hopes and passions of life, but were men who appreciated intensely the worldly advantages they relinquished, and whose affections had become all the more lively on account of the narrow circle in which they were confined. Enthusiasm and the strange phenomena of ecstasy, which have exercised so large an influence in the history of persecution, which have nerved so many martyrs with superhuman courage, and have deadened or destroyed the anguish of so many fearful tortures, were here almost unknown. Persecution came to the Jewish nation in its most horrible forms, yet surrounded by every circumstance of petty annoyance that could destroy its grandeur, and it continued for centuries their abiding portion. But above all this the genius of that wonderful people rose supreme. While those around them were grovelling in the darkness of besotted ignorance; while juggling miracles and lying relics were the themes on which almost all Europe was expatiating; while the intellect of Christendom, enthralled by countless superstitions, had sunk into a deadly torpor, in which all love of enquiry and all search for truth were abandoned, the Jews were still pursuing the path of knowledge, amassing learning, and stimulating progress with the same unflinching constancy that they manifested in their faith."[18]

The enemy succeeded in impoverishing the Jew, and in stifling his energies and efforts for the good of the country, but failed ignominiously in their effort to inspire him with a love for Christianity, which perhaps was never sincerely wanted, and, if wanted, the means chosen to secure the end were not such that are crowned with success. The degraded and tortured Jew was filled with a bitter hatred against Christianity, and with a burning longing for revenge.

And vengeance came. God had heard the wailings and seen the sufferings of the people that never was born to die. The Gothic kingdom of Spain was to suffer bitterly for its terrible crimes and the Jew was to be rewarded a thousandfold for the sufferings he had endured for his religion's sake. Weaker and weaker became that kingdom which the Jews had made in former years the pride of Europe. It was beset by foes within and by foes without. The tyranny of the church and of the throne had instigated dissatisfaction among the grandees of the state, and the insult of Roderick, the king, to Florinda, the young and beautiful daughter of Count Ilyan aroused this bravest of Spanish warriors and numerous powerful friends of his into open rebellion.

Nearer and nearer drew the Arab-Moors. They reached the Northwestern point of Africa, where the Jews, who had fled and who had been banished thither, and who had risen there to power and influence, greeted them with a hearty welcome. The martial sound of the Moslem hosts made as pleasant music to their ears as to the insulted father and his wrath-inspired followers. Both parties conspired with the Moorish chief, Amir Musa Ibn Nosseyr, for the invasion of Spain. Musa grasped eagerly at this ardently wished-for opportunity. He dispatched his valiant warrior Tarik, with 12,000 men across the narrow strait that separated Africa from Europe, and Islam from Christianity. Roderik met him at the banks of the Guadalete with an army eight times as large, and that day was the last Spain beheld him and his army. On that day Christianity ceased to rule within the land of Spain, and as its power sank, there dawned once more the sun of prosperity unto Israel.

The Moors did not forget the valuable services of the Jews. The early hatred against them in Arabia, for refusing to accept the creed of Mohammed, had long since been converted into tolerance and good will. Unlike the religion of Christianity, which started as the religion of love and soon became the religion of the sword, Islamism began as the religion of the sword but soon become the religion of love. Political and religious freedom and social recognition was granted to the Jew throughout the caliphate, and from that day unto this the two Oriental people have lived in peace side by side upon the Occidental soil, viewing with each other in their noble efforts to restore unto Spain her original beauty and prosperity, and to make her in culture and art and intelligence the mistress of Europe. We, sons of Israel, have labored hard and zealously in this noble contest, but with all our efforts our rival has passed beyond us, and humbly we cede the palm of victory to the Arab-Moors."

Here Chasdai ben Isaac ceased. He had spoken of the sufferings of the Jews with such perceptible anguish, he had related the part which the Jews took in the conquest of Spain with such vivid animation, and referred to the prosperity of the Jews under Moorish sway, and to Moorish tolerance and intellectual greatness, with such touching pathos that when he paused, a deep impressive silence ensued. At length Abdallah ben Xamri, the Moorish poet laureate to Caliph Abder Rahman III., arose, advanced towards Chasdai, and bowing low, thus he spoke:

"Your modesty must not bridle my tongue. I would appear an ingrate to my people should it become known that I listened in silence to your last remarks. The Arab-Moors forgot not their benefactors, nor are they so boastful as to arrogate to themselves, or allow others to bestow upon them a superiority which is unmerited.

Within our heart of hearts we treasure the services which your people have rendered. We owe the Hebrew people much more than your modesty, noble Chasdai, has suffered you to claim. You opened the portals of Spain unto us, and to you alone belongs the credit of turning Spain once again into a paradise, for a hundred years of uninterrupted warfare under the banner of Islam, had unfitted us for agricultural and mechanical and intellectual and artistic pursuits. You sowed the seeds of our prosperity. We sat at the feet of your masters, and if we have proven ourselves apt scholars, we bear testimony to the excellency of your teachers. Far be it from us to claim superiority over our honored rival. In the arts and sciences and philosophies your people hold distinguished places. Your theologians have given us many a problem which the wisest among us have failed to solve. In the purity of your home and social life, and in your industries you serve the world as models. In poetry I should never venture to compete for supremacy with friend Dunash ben Labrat and Menachem ben Saruk. In diplomacy, where lives the man who can equal you in intellect and sagacity, to whom else do we owe our political greatness than to you, Chasdai ben Isaac, the Jewish minister of our beloved Caliph Abder Rahman III."

CHAPTER X.
THEIR POSITION IN MEDICAL SCIENCE.

THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.—A CHANGE IN THE FORTUNES OF THE JEWS AND MOORS.—AN EXAMINATION INTO THEIR GREAT ACHIEVEMENTS.—THEIR SKILL IN MEDICAL SCIENCE.—MIRACLE CURE BY CHRISTIAN CLERGY.—JEWISH BODY PHYSICIANS HIGHLY PRIZED AND MUCH SOUGHT.—PROMINENT MEDICAL SCHOOLS AND EMINENT PHYSICIANS.—RASHI.—IBN EZRA.—IBN TIBBON.—MAIMONIDES.—AVENZOAR AVACENNA.

We have witnessed the rise of Islam. We accompanied the Arab on his march of conquest. Breathlessly we stood upon the banks of the Guadalete and awaited the issue of a battle upon which the destiny of nations depended. We followed the triumphal processions of the Arab-Moors into Spain, and our eyes and hearts never ceased rejoicing over the manifold beauties and wonders which Moorish skill spread o'er fair Andalusia, and our tongues ne'er tired speaking of the manifold blessings which Moorish social and domestic and political life and religious tolerance showered lavishly not only upon their own generation, but upon all the generations that have been ever since.

And there was another picture, not so beautiful, but far more instructive; not so cheering, but fuller of pathos. Tearfully we witnessed the siege of Jerusalem and its unparalleled massacre. Heartbroken we followed the despised and spurned and abused, the friendless and homeless Jew, in his vain efforts to find a spot where he might rest his weary head in peace. Our hearts leaped for joy when we beheld the followers of Mohammed—not the followers of the founder of the religion of love—not only restore to the Jew human rights unjustly torn from him, but also offer him the hand of brotherhood. When we parted last we left the Jew and Moor busily engaged in making fair Andalusia, in culture and art and intelligence, the mistress of the world. Then all was peace and joy and sunshine.

We have returned. Five centuries have passed since our last visit. We are now at the end of the fifteenth century. A mighty change has taken place. Peace has turned to war, joy to sorrow, sunshine to darkness. Culture wears the crown of thorns. Art is dragged through the mire. Science is fettered hand and foot. Religious liberty sends forth piteous shrieks from the flames and smoke of the auto-da-fe. Enlightened Europe weeps and trembles. We ask Mercy: "Why weepest thou?" And she sobs forth the name: "Cardinal Ximenes." We ask Art the same question, and she stammers forth: "The Church." Science answers: "The Inquisition." Religious Liberty utters between its death throes the name: "Torquemada." Enlightened Europe weeps and trembles, because the vast storehouses of learning, which Moorish and Jewish intelligence had built up, are about to be consigned to the flames, and the builders themselves are to be extirpated from the soil, upon which they have lived nigh unto eight centuries, and which their own diligent toil has made the wonder of Europe.

"Haste ye," the Spirit of knowledge calleth unto us, "the furnaces are heated, the death-pyres are awaiting impatiently their martyrs, the ships are ready in the harbor to carry off, and give abundance of water to all such who refused the few drops of the water of salvation, the massive gates of the Inquisition dungeons are open, and the instruments of torture are eager for their cruel and inhuman work of death. Haste ye, the moments are precious, gather the knowledge for which you have come, as speedily as you can; tarry, and not a trace nor a record will remain of this most wondrous and fruitful era of Europe's intellectual advance."

Let us heed the warning, and hasten to our task. We had come prepared for a detailed account, but now we must content ourselves with a mere synoptical sketch of the progress made by the Arabs and Jews in literature, art, philosophy and in the mathematical and physical and applied sciences, during the same era when the rest of Europe was yet lying in comparative darkness and barbarism.

A feeling of awe comes over us as we approach our task. We cannot but feel that in dealing with the Arab and Jew in Europe, the period that extends from the beginning of the eighth to the end of the fifteenth century, we are dealing with a divine agency, sent into Europe to rekindle and keep alive the sacred fire of intelligence, which, prior to their coming, had been extinguished by the church and by barbarian conquerors. At this era they are the sole depositories of learning. The second and third chapters of this narrative have acquainted us with the terrible stifling mist of ignorance and its concomitants, fanaticism and cruelty and corruption and intense suffering, which hovered over Europe at the time when the people of the Orient had entered it, and began their intellectual unfolding.

In the East those centers of learning that had not yet passed away were rapidly declining. Antioch, Alexandria, Bagdad, Damascus, Jerusalem, these cities which in their day had made the light of the East more luminous with their light, had drawn in their rays and sent them forth no more. But the Jew and Arab had wandered into Europe before this intellectual decline, and there they fanned the spark of knowledge they had brought with them into such a brilliant and active life, that its light still illumines our mind, and its genial warmth still cheers our heart. The Jew and the Moor have made Europe their everlasting debtor for their services in bridging the yawning chasm which separates ancient from modern culture. With them, most of that ancient knowledge, for which mankind had toiled diligently and untiringly for thousands of years, would have been lost, and lost forever, and modern knowledge, would have been compelled to begin again at the very alphabet, and we to-day might have been some 2,000 or 3,000 years behind. Without their untiring efforts to disperse the poisonous mists, and force their light upon the people, even at the expense of much suffering, the darkest, and most slothful period of European annals which was co-eval with the highest Jewish and Moorish intelligence before that intelligence made itself felt in Europe, might have still surrounded us to-day.

But this is not the time for reflection nor laudation. Hark! Already the doleful knell is tolling, and the people are thronging the public square, and the clergy are chanting hymns of victory and imprecatory formula, and the autos-da-fe are piled up high and dry, and the condemned are impatient, for they long for death, they pray to be released, at last, from the insufferable tortures of the Inquisition, and so we must hasten to our task of recording upon History's pages the wonderful strides the Jews and Moors did make in science and literature and philosophy, before flame and sword and rack and expulsion, silence their voice and obliterate their works forever.

We shall consider their intellectual labors in the order of their importance and service to human-kind, and for that reason we shall begin with a hasty review of their progress in medical science. In this branch the Jew was without peer. He excelled the Moor, because the restrictions which Islamism imposed upon the follower of the Koran, such as prohibitions against dissecting man or animal, did not trammel him. And he eclipsed the Christian, for the Church held medical science accursed, branded and condemned the physician as an atheist, and zealously propagated the doctrines that cures must be wrought by relics of martyrs and bones of saints; by prayer and intercession; that each region of the body was under special spiritual charge, the first joint of the right thumb being in care of God the father, the second under that of the blessed Virgin, and so on to the other parts. For each disease there was a saint. A man with sore eyes must invoke St. Clara. St. Anthony is a sure cure for other inflammations, St. Pernel delivers from ague. In all cases, cured or not, the clergy constituted themselves as the self-appointed agents for collecting the fees for the saints, and as long as this spiritual method of curing disease formed one of their most productive sources of gain, they took great care that no other mode of treatment should excel theirs. Hence their attitude against physicians, and their frequent council decrees, making it a crime punishable with death for a Jewish physician to attend a Christian patient, and for a Christian patient to seek recourse to a Jewish physician, instead of to the shrines and altars of the saints.[19] But for all that, Jewish physicians, and Jewish medical schools flourished, and found their prohibited profession very profitable among the Christians, especially among kings, and popes, and princes, and bishops, among the very men, who passed the sentence of death for crimes which they were the first to perpetrate.

In the tenth and eleventh and twelfth centuries, nearly all the physicians in Europe were Jews. Later, the Moors joined them, but only for a short time, and then the Jews again became the sole champions of medical science. There was not a man of power or prominence who had not his own Jewish body physician, and these body physicians constituted a power, for besides holding the lives of potentates in their hand, they combined with their professional skill, all the learning of the age, a profound knowledge of theology, mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, music, law, statesmanship, poetry, lexicography, criticism, and of other branches.

In naming them and their schools and their works we must give honorable mention to the Jewish physicians of France. Out of the Spanish peninsula there had came across the Pyrenees an intellectual influence which found a warm reception by the Jews of France. To verify this, of schools, we need but name the famous medical school at Narbonne under the presidency of Rabbi Abbu, and the flourishing school at Arles, and the most famous of them all, the college of Montpellier, with the great Profatius as regent of the faculty, as distinguished in medicine as he was eminent in astronomy; and of the distinguished Jewish physician of France, we need but name Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, (1040-1105) better known under the abbreviation: "Rashi," the greatest French physician of the eleventh century, unrivaled in his age for his instructions in great surgical operations, as the Cæsarean section; nor must we forget the learned Ibn Tibbon, (1160-1230) who emphasized the necessity of a close study of botany for medical purposes, and of carefully cultivating the art of preparing drugs.

The scope of this discourse will not permit us to name all of the distinguished Jewish physicians of Spain, nor to enumerate their works nor to dwell upon their merits. From the many we shall select the name of Ibn Ezra, (1093-1107) the polyhistor of his age. His chief work is a treatise on practical and theoretical medicine, entitled, "Book of Proofs."

But greater than Ibn Ezra, both as a physician and a philosopher, is Moses Maimonides, (1135-1204), honored by his countrymen with the titles: "The Doctor," "The Great Sage," "The Glory of the West," "The Light of the East, Second Only to Moses." He was the most famous of all living physicians of his time. He was coveted as body physician by the greatest potentates, and the justly celebrated Sultan Saladin considered himself honored and fortunate to secure him as his body physician. When Richard Cœur de Lion, King of England, fell sick, Moses Maimonides was summoned for consultation. His contributions to medical works are many. He wrote medical aphorisms derived from former Greek, Latin, Hebrew and Arabic sources; an abridgment of Galen, a treatise on "Hemorrhoids," on "Poisons and Antidotes," on "Asthma," on "The Preservation of Health," on "The Bites of Venomous Animals," and other valuable works.[20]

We return to the Moors, and here, too, we are confronted by an abundance of medical literature. Over 300 distinguished medical writers are mentioned, and their works are voluminous. Chief among them stands Avenzoar, Ibn Zohr, (beginning of the Twelfth century) physician, to the court of Seville. His famous work "Canon of Medicine," an encyclopedia of medical knowledge, established for him a world wide reputation and became the medical authority for European universities for many centuries. Upwards of 100 other medical treaties are ascribed to him, some are tracts of a few pages, others are works extending through several volumes. Avicenna (Ibn Sina, 980-1037) occupies an honored place next to him. Chief among his works is his "Method of Preparing Medicine and Diet," "Treatment of Leprosy," and two works on "Fever," in which he continues the work begun a century before by the Jewish physician, Isaac ben Suleiman Israeli. The Moors themselves acknowledge that the Jews far surpass them in their knowledge of anatomy, physiology and hygiene, that from want of knowledge of the construction of the human body, their surgery is necessarily crude. Their great fame, however, rests, and will rest, upon their introduction of pharmacy, their therapeutical use of drugs, their making chemistry, the handmaid of medical treatment. Pharmacopoeia dates from this period. The Moors of Spain, opened the first apothecary shops, and many of the names and many of the medicines still used, have come down to us from their period.[21] We must content ourselves with this brief review (more the scope of this work will not permit,) of "The Position of the Jew and the Moor in Medical Science."

CHAPTER XI.
IN THE SCIENCES.

MARVELOUS INTELLECTUAL SUPERIORITY OF MOORS AND JEWS.—MOORS EXCEL THE JEWS IN THE SCIENCES.—THEY INTRODUCE THE MATHEMATICAL SCIENCES.—THEIR PROGRESS IN ASTRONOMY.—ABSURD REFUTATIONS BY THE CHRISTIAN CLERGY.—THEIR RESEARCHES INTO CHEMISTRY, ZOOLOGY AND GEOLOGY.—THEY ANTICIPATE MODERN DISCOVERIES.—EUROPE'S INGRATITUDE.

We turn next in our review of the intellectual labors of the Moors and Jews in Spain, during the period that extends from the beginning of the eighth to the end of the fifteenth century, to an examination of their position in the sciences. The deplorably benighted state of contemporaneous Europe prepares us to expect little or nothing in this noblest department of human knowledge, and our surprise is therefore so much the greater as we gaze upon, and ponder over, the mighty strides made by the Moors and by the Jews on the highways of science. The impetus in this special branch seemed to have come from the Arabs. The few words of Ali, the fourth Arabian caliph: "Eminence in science is the highest honor; he dies not who gives life to learning," seems to have taken as deep roots within the minds of the Arabians, and to have yielded far more precious fruits, than did the Koran the vast volume of his distinguished father-in-law; Mohammed.

For centuries the Arab-Moors led the world in this department. Here the Jews cannot lay claim to rivalry; they were collaborators, but nothing more. In justice to the Jews, however, we shall add, that there are some who differ from us in our conclusion. Some give to the Jews an equal rank with the Moors, others claim that the point under discussion is still debatable. And we must not treat their objection lightly. We must not forget that in treating of these scientists of Spain, we are dealing with men known under Arabic names; beyond a knowledge of their scientific works we know little or nothing about them. Concerning their religion, history maintains a commendable silence; the Mohammedans preferring, at this period, the ink of science to the blood of martyrs. Knowing of the scientific scholars nothing more than that their works are written in Arabic, and that their names are Arabic, the canons of criticism will not permit us to conclude that a scientist who writes in Arabic, and whose name is Arabic, is necessarily also a Mohammedan by faith. The records give incontestable proof that many and many of the distinguished Jewish scholars of that period wrote in Arabic, and went under an Arabic name, who, but for a chance article of work from their pen upon a Hebrew subject, might have been classed to-day as Arab-Moors by race and Mohammedan by creed. Be this as it may. That point will never be definitely settled, and as long as a doubt remains, the Arab-Moors may justly claim the benefit of the doubt, and the Jews shall be the last to contest their claims of superiority in the sciences during the Middle Ages over every other race or creed.

Entering upon our subject, and beginning at the root of the tree of science, we make the pleasing discovery that to the Arab-Moors of Spain belongs the honor of having been the first to generally introduce in Europe, for scientific and industrial and commercial purposes, the science of arithmetic. Had they achieved nothing else, the introduction of this most needful of all the branches of mathematics alone, would have entitled them to a distinguished place among the world's benefactors. That introduction was the starting point of a new progress. Its use and development made possible the higher mathematics and analytical mechanics and astronomy, and every other science discovered since, and hailed with delight. Little do we think to-day when we pride ourselves on the startling achievements of our astronomers and meteorologists and other scientists, when we speak of the miracles they work in space and time, of the ascensions they make to the remotest of the nebulæ, and of their holding communion there with stars and worlds and solar systems whose light has not yet reached the earth, little do we think when we speak of electricity obeying our every wish, and of steam yoked in our service, and of the countless other wonders of modern science, little do we think that for all these blessings we are lastingly indebted to the Arab-Moors, and to their assistants, the Jews, for their faithful labors in mathematics. Little do we think that we are pronouncing Arabic words when we speak of the "zero" or the "cipher", the "naught,"—that most important of all figures, upon which the most needful of all arithmetical contrivances is based—the decimal system. And when we remember that the prosperity and progress of every country in Europe dates from the introduction of the Arabian figures[22] and when we realize the clumsiness and uselessness of the Hebrew and Greek and Latin alphabet figures, in vogue in Europe before the entrance of the Arab-Moors into Spain, and when we try to work out a problem of multiplication, say ninety-nine multiplied by ninety-nine, in accordance with the notation of the Arabic nine digits and cipher, and then, in accordance with the Roman alphabet figures, XCIX times XCIX, then, perhaps, will we most readily give thankful praise to those to whom Europe owes so magnificent a boon—to those who, with so simple an invention, opened the avenues of prosperity and loosened the fetters that had shackled the advance of science.

Encouraged by their success in arithmetic, they turned towards a higher branch of mathematics and gave to Europe the science of numbers and quantity, and named it algebra ("al'jabara," to bind parts together). Whether, as some claim, the Arab-Moors obtained their knowledge of algebra from their schools in Bagdad or Damascus, who, in their turn, had derived it from the Hindoos, or whether, as others claim, the Jews, in their diligent translations from the early Greek geometricians into Arabic, must have come across, and followed up the algebraic trace, which is supposed to exist in the treatise of Diaphantus (350 A. C.), or whether the Moorish claim be the true one, that the honor of having invented algebra belongs to one of their own mathematicians, who flourished about the middle of the ninth century, to Mohammed ben Musa, or Moses,[23] whoever the inventors be of this valuable branch of mathematics, unanimity of opinion prevails concerning one point, and that is, the Arab-Moors and Jews first introduced algebra into Europe. Still more Ibn Musa (or Ben Moses) developed it to the solution of quadratic equations, and Ibn Ibrahim (Ben Abraham) to the solution of cubic equations, Ibn Korrah (or Ben Korah) to the application of algebra to geometry, laying thus the foundation of analytical geometry. Geometry led them to trigonometry, which they elevated to a practical science by substituting sines for chords and by establishing formulas and tables of tangents and cotangents and secants and cosecants. From trigonometry Al Baghadadi advanced to land surveying, and wrote on it a treatise so excellent, that by some it has been declared to be a copy of Euclid's lost work on that subject.

The unbiased student, who searches diligently among the achievements of the Moors and Jews, will soon detect, not only a systematic contrivance on the part of the literature of Europe to put out of sight our obligations to them in science, but a bold effort, wherever a chance presents itself, to wrest their hard toil from them, and bestow it upon some one, who is not so unfortunate as to be Saracen or Jew. But "injustice founded on religious rancor and national conceit cannot be perpetuated forever." The real truth can not be much longer hidden, and if the chapters of this volume have no other effect than simply to do justice to the memory of those who have toiled and who have suffered, that we may enjoy, to-day, the blessings of our civilization, we shall regard our labors amply rewarded.

We have digressed. Let us return to our theme. They toiled for science sake, not for fame. They looked for none. When Spain itself, indebted to them for all her blessings, repays so miserably their faithful services, why should they look to Europe for recognition? "High minds," it has been truly said, "are as little affected by such unworthy returns for services, as the sun is by those fogs which the earth throws up between herself and his light."[24]

And so, expecting no thanks, and working for none, they advanced, with their present achievements as stepping stones, to the study of astronomy. And marvelous, almost incredible, is their success in this department. They determine the altitude of celestial bodies by means of the astrolabe. They register all the stars in their heaven, giving to those of the first magnitudes the names they still bear on our celestial maps and globes, writing thus indelibly their impress upon the celestial heaven, though it be denied them in the literature of Europe. They give us the words "azimuth," "zenith," "nadir," "almanac," and others. They compute time by the oscillations of the pendulum, and determine the true length of the year. They discover the theory of the refraction of light and ascertain the curvilinear path of a ray of light through the air. They explain the horizontal sun and moon, and why we see those bodies before they have risen and after they have set. They measure the height of the atmosphere and determine it to be nearly fifty-eight and one half miles. They give the true theory of the twilight, and of the twinkling of the stars. They not only know the spheroidal form of the earth, but approximately its diameter and circumference. Averroes discovers the spots upon the sun. Kepler alludes honorably to the observations of Levi ben Gerson, and Copernicus to those of Profiat Duran, and Laplace accepts Ibn Musa's proof of the diminution of the eccentricity of the earth's orbit, and Ibn Junis' proof of the obliquity of the ecliptic. They invent the first pendulum clock. They build the first observatory in Europe, the Giralda, (1196 A. C.) turned into a belfry after the expulsion of the Moors and Jews. They almost discover the laws of gravity, considering it terrestrial, reserving it for Newton to teach that it is universal. Rabbi Isaac ben Sid prepares for Alphonso X., king of Castile, new astronomical tables, for which Alphonso takes the credit, names them the Alphonsine tables, and is modest enough to remark: "That if God had called him (the king) into His councils when He created the universe, things would have been in a better and simpler order."

The Church, in the meanwhile, does her best to refute the "ungodly scientific teachings" of the Moors and Jews. The argument of the "Sohar" that the earth revolves upon its own axis and around the sun (a Jewish teaching in the twelfth century, anticipating that of Copernicus), the shining lights of the church nail to the ground with clinchers from the Bible such as these: "The sun runneth about from one end of the heaven to the other," and "the foundations of the earth are so firmly fixed that they cannot be moved." The absurdity of the existence of the antipodes they prove to their full satisfaction in this manner: "It is impossible that any inhabitants exist on the opposite side of the earth, since no such race is recorded by Scriptures among the descendants of Adam." Again, "we are told by St. Paul that all men are made to live 'upon the face of the earth,' from which it clearly follows that they can not live upon more faces than one or upon the back." Again, "how could men exist on the other side of the earth, since on the day of judgment, being on the other side, they could not see the Lord ascending through the air?" Ergo, the teachings of the Church alone are the true theories of this universe, "concerning which it is not lawful for a Christian to doubt."

But the Moors and Jews treated with contempt this puerile opposition, little thinking that the Church of "Love unto all men" has stronger and more convincing weapons than tongue and pen to prove her points. They persevered in their path so well begun. They turned to the physical sciences. They originated chemistry. They discovered some of the most important reagents, such as the nitric, sulphuric and hydrochloric acids, and alcohol, which still bears its Arabic name. They knew the chemical affinities of gold, silver, copper, iron, tin, lead and quicksilver. They invented various apparatus for distillation, sublimation, fusion, filtration, etc. They constructed tables of specific gravities. In geology, Abu Othman wrote a valuable work. In zoology, the following extract from a chapter of Avicenna (Ibn Sinai or Ben Sinai) on the origin of the mountains, which reads as if it were written by one of the most advanced geologists of our day, will best indicate the heights to which they attained in this science. "Mountains" said Ibn Sinai (980-1037), "may be due to two different causes. Either they are upheavals of the crust of the earth, such as might occur during a violent earthquake, or they are the effects of water, which, cutting for itself a new route, has denuded the valleys, the strata being of different kinds—some soft, some hard. The winds and waters disintegrate the one, but leave the other intact. That water has been the main cause of these facts is proved by the existence of fossil remains of aquatic and other animals on many mountains."[25]

But little has been cited here concerning the position of the Moors and Jews in the sciences. The field is too vast and the scope of this volume will not permit us to enter into greater details. He that would have fuller knowledge upon this theme let him peruse the following works, to which I am largely indebted for the facts stated above. "Geschichte der Arabischen Aerzte and Naturforscher," Wuestenfeld; "Conquest of Spain," "Book V.," by Coppe; "Eastern Caliphate," Stanislaus Guyard; "History of Algebra," Phillip Kelland; "History of Arithmetic," George McArthur; "Astronomy," R. A. Proctor; "The Intellectual Development of Europe," Draper; "Conflict Between Religion and Science," Draper; "Rationalism in Europe," Lecky.

Yet, even though our synoptical review has been brief we have seen and heard enough to understand fully why in the year 1492, and within the realm of Spain, Wisdom mourns and Knowledge wails, and Science is broken-hearted and Europe trembles. Anguish seizes upon our soul at the thought, yet a little while, and all this wondrous intellectual advance, so active and so promising will be torn off the soil of Europe, root and all, and darkness, cruel darkness, ignorance, cruel ignorance, will ascend the throne once more and usher into the scenes of life stagnation, corruption, suffering, despair.

For science and for humanity's sake we venture to approach the princes of the realm and prelates of the church and plead for mercy. "No!" is the stern reply of Ferdinand and Isabella, "Spain is polluted by the presence of the accursed Moors and Jews." "Avaunt!" shouts Cardinal Ximenes, "Catholicism is in danger where Moorish and Jewish brain is at work." "Mercy ye ask for," fairly shrieks the Grand Inquisitor Torquemada, "the Church knows no mercy for the Moorish and Jewish infidel dogs. Begone, or their fate is yours."

We are not yet prepared for death. Our task is not yet done. Many a Moorish and Jewish achievement remains still to be spoken of, and so we shall hasten our review, while yet we may speak of their position in literature.

CHAPTER XII.
IN LITERATURE.

SPAIN'S PROSPERITY STIMULATES LITERATURE.—LAVISH PROVISIONS FOR EDUCATION.—CALIPHS PATRONS OF LEARNING.—VAST LIBRARIES EMBODYING THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE DAY.—POETRY ESPECIALLY FOSTERED.—STORY-TELLING.—JEWISH AND MOORISH POETRY CONTRASTED.—JEHUDA HA LEVY.—CHARISI.—GABIROL.—MOSES BEN EZRA.

When we turn to an examination of the position of the Jews and Moors of Spain in Literature, and behold their progress in this department of knowledge, we are not so much surprised as we were when we surveyed the wondrous advance both did make in the department of science, at a time when the rest of Europe was still under the spell of a mental torpor. The great epochs of the world's literature have ever had their origin during times of peace and prosperity. They may continue into turbulent times, and even outlive them, but never can they take root in them. Such an age Spain and its people were enjoying for many years under Moorish sway. The Moors had ended their conquests, and for a while the Jews enjoyed freedom from persecution. Peace prevailed, and prosperity gladdened the heart of man. Hills and dales yielded bountiful harvests. The rich mines of Spain brought to light the treasures of the earth. The long line of coast was crowded with vessels, which restlessly furrowed the oceans, exchanging the products of Europe for the wealth of the Orient. The commerce of the world centered in Spain; there, too, could be found its wealth. The age was ripe for literary activity.

The Jews were the first to open this epoch-making era of European literature. The past had shown that the Jewish mind needs no other impetus for earnest intellectual toil than an age of peace and prosperity, and the present marked no departure from the general rule. The Arab-Moors, sharing the general characteristics of the Jews, did not tarry long behind; as the Jews were mindful of the teachings of their sages, that the crown of learning is the greatest of honors, so did the Moors remember the words of the great Caliph Al Mamum: "They are the elect of God, they are His best and most useful servants, whose lives are devoted to the improvement of their rational faculties." And so great was the literary zeal of both these races that within comparatively few years there arose a literature upon grammar, lexicography, rhetoric, history, politics, biography, translation, statistics, music, fiction, poetry, law, ethics, theology, philosophy, much of which, despite our boasting of to-day, not only need not fear modern criticism, but is still authority. And it endured for nearly eight centuries, exceeding in duration that of any other literature, ancient or modern, and even after it was crushed, it continued to emit a steady luster through the clouds and darkness of succeeding centuries. Like a flood it overflowed the mountain barriers and went on, widely irrigating the arid fields of Europe.

The provisions for education were abundant. To every mosque and synagogue a free school was attached. Endowed colleges dotted the Saracen Empire, in which free tuition was given to all who were eager for knowledge, and stipends were cheerfully furnished the indigent students. In addition to this, many of the caliphs distinguished themselves not only for their scholarly attainments, but also for their munificent patronage of learning. They assembled the eminent scholars of their times, both natives and foreigners, at their court making it the familiar resort of men of letters, establishing a precedent which the Medicis later turned to excellent use. Above all, they were intent upon the acquisition of extensive libraries. They invited illustrious foreigners to send them their works, and munificently recompensed them. No donation was so grateful to them as a book. They employed agents in Egypt, Syria, Irak and Persia, for collecting and transcribing the rarest manuscripts; and their vessels returned freighted with cargoes more precious than the spices of the East. In this way they amassed magnificent collections—that of Alhakem Second amounted to 600,000 volumes.[26] Our own Harvard cannot reach half that number, even in the nineteenth century, and with the advantage of steam and printing press. Besides these royal libraries, seventy public libraries are named in Andalusia. The collections in the possession of individuals were sometimes very extensive. A private doctor refused the invitation of a sultan of Bokhara because the transportation of his books would have required 400 camels.

The subjects upon which these thousands upon thousands of volumes treat are so manifold, and the authors so numerous—the department of history, for instance, according to an Arabian author cited by D'Herbelot, could boast of 1,300 writers—that even a synoptical review of them would need more space and time than the scope of these discourses will allow, and so we dismiss them with the simple remark that such is their excellence, such the influence they exercised upon the literature of Europe that a careful perusal of the works still extant in the original or in translation will well repay the special student of any of the special branches of literature of which they treat.

The poetry of that period, however, refuses to be dismissed. She bids us halt. She, the queen of literature, is not accustomed to such slight. She was born to rule, she brooks no opposition, and so we pause. And after we have held sweet converse with her minstrel bards, and after we have perused a number of the almost countless volumes devoted to winged words of music and to poetic fancy, we regret not, that she made us pause. No longer do we think her boast an idle one that Spain, during the period that extends from the eighth to the fifteenth century, can show a greater number of poets than all the other nations combined. We need not ask the reason why. Any one acquainted with the extraordinary richness of both the Hebrew and its kindred—the Arabic language—their natural cadence, which lends itself to verse, the ease which both languages afford in passing from prose to poetry, and with the bent of mind of both races, poetical, delighting in figurative speech, in metaphor and allegory and fable, in luxuriant imagery and fanciful romance, any one acquainted with their Oriental predilection for the fairer sex, which could only express itself in languishing idyls or passionate lyric sonnets, any one knowing all this, will not wonder at the vastness of the Jewish and Moorish poetic literature.

The Moors excelled in what was then known as the art of "story telling." They had brought it with them from the East and the enchanting moonlight evenings of Andalusia, and the sequestered, fairy-like gardens, with their shady cypress trees, and their cascades, and their flowering shrubs, and their bowers of roses, and their crypt-like grottoes, all these tended to keep the love for their art alive. With them "this story telling," both in prose and poetry, took the place of theatrical representation. Those of you familiar with one of the many extant prose collections of stories such as "The Arabian Nights," can readily form an opinion of the great charm that branch of literature must have had in the original language for the Moorish people.

Physicians often ordered "story telling" as a prescription for their patients, to mitigate their sufferings, to calm their agitation and to give sleep after protracted insomnia, or to beguile the ennui of the grandees, or to recreate them after their fatigues. The "munshids" or "story tellers" found their vocation a very honored and a very profitable one, and they took great pains to foster that art.

These stories and their lyric poetry exercised a potent influence over the literature of Southern and Western Europe. It can be traced in the reproduction of many stories as well as in the structure of the French "fabliaux" and "chansons de geste" of the "jongleuers", "trouveres" of the North; and is more particularly to be observed in "le gai saber" of Provencal troubadours. It extended into Italy, and is found in the charming stanzas of Ariosto, and in the "twice told tales" of Boccaccio's "Decameron."

In a word, the entire fiction and poetry of Southern Europe, up to the Renaissance, owes as much to the Spanish-Arabians for matter and form, as it does to the Latin language.[27] Still more, when we remember that our English Chaucer borrowed the scheme of his "Canterbury Tales" from several of the stories of Boccaccio, and other Italian writers, and that other English writers imitated Chaucer in borrowing plots and subjects from Italy and France and Spain, we may well claim that the Arabian idea has penetrated into the North, and left its profound impression upon English literature.[28]

But in the purer poetry, in touching tenderness of pathos, in sublimity of thought and majesty of diction, in those lofty flights where hope blends with sorrow, and with a religious fervor that is tempered by celestial sweetness and warmth of heart, here, the Jewish poets of Spain not only excel their Moorish rivals, but every poet before or since. Once more Israel's sons and daughters took their harps of Judea from off the mourning willows, and the Songs of Zion, the Glory of Israel, and the Praises of the Universal Father resounded again as sweet in the fairy land of Andalusia, as formerly upon the banks of the Jordan. They consecrated their Muse to the purest and holiest purposes. The epigram of Aben Esra, one of the immortal poets of this age, tells briefest and best the uses to which poetry lent itself among the various nations. He wrote:

"Among the Arabs in their fiery way,

The song doth breathe alone of loves sweet sway.

The Roman sings exultant of war's spoils.

Of battles, sieges and warriors' toils.

In wit and spirit doth the Greek excel,

And India's bards of curious riddles tell,

But songs devoted to the Maker's praise,

The Jews alone among the nations raise."

We do not mean to convey by this, that the Jewish poets of Spain devoted themselves only and exclusively to the sacred song. Jehuda Ha-Levi thus sings of love and wine as fiery as e'er did Moorish bard.[29]

LOVE-SONG.

"See'st thou o'er my shoulder falling

Snake-like ringlets waving free?

Have no fear, for they are twisted

To allure thee unto me."

Thus she spake, the gentle dove,

Listen to thy plighted love:

"Ah, how long I wait, until

Sweetheart cometh back (she said)

Laying his caressing hand

Underneath my burning head."

SEPARATION.

And so we twain must part! Oh linger yet,

Let me still feed my glance upon thine eyes.

Forget not, love, the days of our delight,

And I our nights of bliss shall ever prize.

In dreams thy shadowy image I shall see,

Oh even in my dream be kind to me!

Though I were dead, I none the less would hear

Thy step, thy garment rustling on the sand.

And if thou waft me greetings from the grave,

I shall drink deep the breath of that cold land.

Take thou my days, command this life of mine,

If it can lengthen out the space of thine.

No voice I hear from lips death-pale and chill,

Yet deep within my heart it echoes still.

My frame remains—my soul to thee yearns forth,

A shadow I must tarry still on earth.

Back to the body dwelling here in pain,

Return, my soul, make haste and come again!

Thus sings Moses ben Esra;

The shadow of the houses leave behind,

In the cool boscage of the grove reclined,

The wine of friendship from love's goblet drink,

And entertain with cheerful speech the mind.

Drink, friend! behold the dreary winter's gone,

The mantle of old age has time withdrawn,

The sunbeam glitters in the morning dew,

O'er hill and vale youth's bloom is surging on.

Cup-bearer! quench with snow the goblet's fire,

Even as the wise man cools and stills his ire.

Look, when the jar is drained, upon the brim

The light foam melteth with the heart's desire.

Cup-bearer! bring anear the silver bowl,

And with the glowing gold fulfill the whole,

Unto the weak new vigor it imparts,

And without lance subdues the heroe's soul.

My love sways, dancing, like the myrtle-tree.

The masses of her curls disheveled see!

She kills me with her darts, intoxicates

My burning blood, and will not set me free.

Within the aromatic garden come,

And slowly in its shadows let us roam,

The foliage be the turban for our brows,

And the green branches o'er our heads a dome.

All pain thou with the goblet shalt assuage,

The wine-cup heals the sharpest pangs that rage,

Let others crave inheritance of wealth,

Joy be our portion and our heritage.

Drink in the garden, friend, anigh the rose,

Richer than spice's breath the soft air blows.

If it should cease a little traitor then,

A zephyr light its secret would disclose.

—Extracts from the Book of Tarshish or "Necklace of Pearls."

It was not for want of cause that the sedate greybeards of Cordova applied for legal aid to have the passionate love songs of Abraham Ibn Sahal prohibited, for there was not a youth or maiden in the city who could not repeat them by heart. And as to songs of war and wit and spirit, the "Makamen" of Jehuda ben Salamo ben Alchofni, better known as "Charisi" gives ample proof to assure us that the Jews might have become dangerous rivals to the Roman and Greek writers had they fostered that phase of poetry as did these. Thus sings Charisi;

LOVE SONG OF CHARISI.

I.

The long-closed door, oh open it again, send me back once more my fawn that had fled.

On the day of our reunion, thou shalt rest by my side, there wilt thou shed over me the streams of thy delicious perfume.

Oh beautiful bride, what is the form of thy friend, that thou say to me, Release him, send him away?

He is the beautiful-eyed one of ruddy glorious aspect—that is my friend, him do thou detain.

II.

Hail to thee, son of my friend, the ruddy, the bright colored one! Hail to thee whose temples are like a pomegranate.

Hasten to the refuge of thy sister, and protect the son of Isaiah against the troops of the Ammonites.

What art thou, O Beauty, that thou shouldst inspire love? that thy voice should ring like the voices of the bells upon the priestly garments?

The hour wherein thou desirest my love, I shall hasten to meet thee. Softly will I drop beside thee like the dew upon Hermon.

And as to the curious riddles which India's bards did tell, let us translate one or two, from Jehuda Ha-Levi to show that even into this field of poetic fancy the Jewish mind did wander, and it plucked there fruit as choice as India's bards did ever pluck. Ha-Levi asks, Who solves this:

Eye it has and yet is blind,

Of service it is to human kind;

Raiment it makes, both large and small,

And still itself is bare of all.

(Answer: "The Needle.")

Or this:

Would true friendship ye maintain

Hither come and learn it;

What us would part we cut in twain,

While we remain uninjured.

(Answer: "The two knives of a pair of scissors.")

As to their skill in reflective and descriptive poetry, let the following specimens show:

NIGHT-THOUGHTS.

Will night already spread her wings and weave

Her dusky robes about the day's bright form,

Boldly the sun's fair countenance displacing,

And swathe it with her shadow in broad day?

So a green wreath of mist enrings the moon,

Till envious clouds do quite encompass her.

No wind! and yet the slender stem is stirred,

With faint, slight motion as from inward tremor.

Mine eyes are lull of grief—who sees me, asks,

"Oh wherefore dost thou cling unto the ground?"

My friends discourse with sweet and soothing words:

They all are vain, they glide above my head.

I fain would check my tears; would fain enlarge

Unto infinity, my heart—in vain!

Grief presses hard my breast, therefore my tears

Have scarcely dried, ere they again spring forth.

For these are streams, no furnace heat may quench,

Nebuchadnezzar's flames may dry them not.

What is the pleasure of the day for me,

If, in its crucible, I must renew

Incessantly the pangs of purifying?

Up, challenge, wrestle and o'ercome! Be strong!

The late grapes cover all the vine with fruit.

I am not glad, though even the lion's pride

Content itself upon the field's poor grass.

My spirit sinks beneath the tide, soars not

With fluttering seamews on the moist, soft strand.

I follow fortune not, where'er she lead.

Lord o'er myself, I banish her, compel

And though her clouds should rain no blessed dew,

Though she withhold the crown, the heart's desire,

Though all deceive, though honey change to gall,

Still am I Lord, and will in freedom strive.

TO A DETRACTOR.

The Autumn promised, and he keeps

His word unto the meadow-rose.

The pure, bright lightnings herald Spring,

Serene and glad the fresh earth shows.

The rain has quenched her children's thirst,

Her cheeks, but now so cold and dry,

Are soft and fair, a laughing face;

With clouds of purple shines the sky,

Though filled with light, yet veiled with haze.

Hark! hark! the turtle's mocking note

Outsings the valley-pigeon's lays.

Her wings are gemmed, and from her throat,

When the clear sun gleams back again,

It seems to me as though she wore

About her neck a jeweled chain.

Say, wilt thou darken such a light,

Wilt drag the clouds from heaven's height?

Although thy heart with anger swell,

Yet firm as marble, mine doth dwell.

Therein no fear thy wrath begets,

It is not shaken by thy threats.

Yea, hurl thy darts, thy weapons wield,

The strength of youth is still my shield.

My winged steed toward the heights doth bound,

The dust whirls upward from the ground:

My song is scanty, dost thou deem

Thine eloquence a mighty stream?

Only the blameless offering

Not the profusion man may bring,

Prevaileth with our Lord and King.

The long days out of minutes grow,

And out of months the years arise.

Wilt thou be master of the wise,

Then learn the hidden stream to know,

That from the inmost heart doth flow.

WINE AND GRIEF.

With heavy groans did I approach my friends.

Heavy as though the mountains I would move.

The flagon they were murdering; they poured

Into the cup, wild-eyed, the grape's red blood.

No they killed not, they breathed new life therein.

Then, too, in fiery rapture, burned my veins,

But soon the fumes had fled. In vain, in vain!

Ye cannot fill the breach of the rent heart.

Ye crave a sensuous joy; ye strive in vain

To cheat with flames of passion, my despair.

So when the sinking sun draws near to night,

The sky's bright cheeks fade 'neath those tresses black.

Ye laugh—but silently the soul weeps on;

Ye cannot stifle her sincere lament.

DEFIANCE.

"Conquer the gloomy night of thy sorrow, for the morning greets thee with laughter.

Rise and clothe thyself with noble pride

Break loose from the tyranny of grief.

Thou standest alone among men,

Thy song is like pearl in beauty."

So spake my friend, 'Tis well!

The billows of the stormy sea which overwhelmed my soul,—

These I subdue; I quake not

Before the bow and arrow of destiny.

I endured with patience when he deceitfully lied to me

With his treacherous smile.

Yea, boldly I defy Fate,

I cringe not to envious Fortune

I mock the towering floods.

My brave heart does not shrink—

This heart of mine, that, albeit young in years,

Is none the less rich in deep, keen-eyed experience.

A DEGENERATE AGE.

Where is the man who has been tried and found strong and sound?

Where is the friend of reason and of knowledge?

I see only skeptics and weaklings.

I see only the prisoners in the durance of the senses.

And every fool and every spendthrift

Thinks himself as great a master as Aristotle.

Think'st thou that they have written poems,

Call'st thou that a Song?

I call it the cackling of the ravens.

The zeal of the prophet must free poesy

From the embrace of wanton youths.

My song I have inscribed on the forehead of Time,

They know it and hate it—for it is lofty .

TO THE WEST WIND.

Oh, West, how fragrant breathes thy gentle air,

Spikenard and aloes on thy pinions glide.

Thou blow'st from spicy chambers, not from there

Where angry winds and tempests fierce abide.

As on a bird's wings thou dost waft me home,

Sweet as a bundle of rich myrrh to me.

And after thee yearn all the throngs that roam

And furrow with light keel the rolling sea.

Desert her not—our ship—bide with her oft,

When the day sinks and in the morning light.

Smooth thou the deeps and make the billows soft,

Nor rest save at our goal, the sacred height.

Chide thou the East that chafes the raging flood,

And swells the towering surges wild and rude.

What can I do, the elements' poor slave?

Now do they hold me fast, now leave me free;

Cling to the Lord, my soul, for He will save,

Who caused the mountains and the winds to be.

(Extracts from the Book of Tarshish, or "Necklace of Pearls.")

Thou who art clothed in silk, who drawest on

Proudly thy raiment of fine linen spun,

Bethink thee of the day when thou alone

Shalt dwell at last beneath the marble stone.

Anigh the nest of adders thine abode,

With the earth-crawling serpent and the toad,

Trust in the Lord, He will sustain thee there,

And without fear thy soul shall rest with God.

If the world flatter thee with soft-voiced art,

Know 'tis a cunning witch who charms thy heart,

Whose habit is to wed man's soul with grief,

And those who are close-bound in love to part.

He who bestows his wealth upon the poor,

Has only lent it to the Lord, be sure—

Of what avail to clasp it with clenched hand?

It goes not with us to the grave obscure.

The voice of those who dwell within the tomb,

Who in corruption's house have made their home;

"Oh ye who wander o'er us still to-day,

When will ye come to share with us the gloom?"

How can'st thou ever of the world complain,

And murmuring, burden it with all thy pain?

Silence! thou art a traveler at inn,

A guest, who may but over night remain.

But with all their distinguished merits in these branches of poetic literature, they laid no claims to recognition, nor shall we claim it for them. Their aspiration was higher. Their lay was sacred. Their ideal of poetic grandeur was the writing and singing of majestic hymns, and they have given us a hymnology, a collection of pure and sacred songs, that has never yet been equalled. We know not what rational religious fervor is, we know not what real piety is, we know not what joyful ectasy is, nor what tearful and penitent tenderness means, we know not what trust in, and love of God is, we know not what it is to hear the heart speak to and of God, and the soul sing her Maker's praise, we know not what passionate devotion to, and deathless love for, Israel's cause, for the memory of her glorious past and for the hopes of her future is, we know not what all these are and mean, until we have read some of the hymns and sacred odes and elegies and meditations of the Jewish poets of Spain. Turn to your "Day of Atonement" services; read there the inexpressibly beautiful contributions to sacred poetic literature by Rabbi Solomon ben Jehuda Gabirol, or Rabbi Joseph ben Ibn Abitur, or Rabbi Bechai ben Joseph, or Rabbi Moses ben Esra, or the greatest of them all Rabbi Jehuda ben Samuel Ha-Levi, and answer it, where have you seen and where have you read or heard, anything that will bear comparison, with their religious poetry? Let us see the following from Gabirol:

MEDITATIONS.

Forget thine anguish,

Vexed heart, again,

Why should'st thou languish,

With earthly pain?

The husk shall slumber,

Bedded in clay,

Silent and sombre,

Oblivion's prey!

But, Spirit immortal,

Thou at Death's portal,

Tremblest with fear.

If he caress thee,

Curse thee or bless thee,

Thou must draw near,

From him the worth of thy works to hear.

Why full of terror,

Compassed with error,

Trouble thy heart,

For thy mortal part?

The soul flies home—

The corpse is dumb.

Of all thou didst have,

Follows naught to the grave.

Thou fliest thy nest,

Swift as a bird to thy place of rest.

What avail grief and fasting,

Where nothing is lasting?

Pomp, domination,

Become tribulation.

In a health-giving draught,

A death-dealing shaft.

Wealth—an illusion,

Power—a lie,

Over all, dissolution

Creeps silent and sly.

Unto others remain

The goods thou didst gain

With infinite pain.

Life is a vine-branch;

A vintager, death.

He threatens and lowers

More near with each breath.

Then hasten, arise!

Seek God, oh my soul!

For time quickly flies,

Still far is the goal.

Vain heart praying dumbly,

Learn to prize humbly,

The meanest of fare.

Forget all thy sorrow,

Behold, Death is there!

Dove-like lamenting,

Be full of repenting,

Lift vision supernal

To raptures eternal.

On every occasion

Seek lasting salvation.

Pour out thy heart in weeping,

While others are sleeping.

Pray to Him when all's still,

Performing His will.

And so shall the angel of peace be thy warden,

And guide thee at last to the heavenly garden.

HYMN.

Almighty! what is man?

But flesh and blood.

Like shadows flee his days,

He marks not how they vanish from his gaze.

Suddenly, he must die—

He droppeth, stunned, into nonentity.

Almighty! what is man?

A body frail and weak,

Full of deceit and lies,

Of vile hypocrisies.

Now like a flower blowing,

Now scorched by sunbeams glowing.

And wilt thou of his trespasses inquire?

How may he ever bear

Thine anger just, thy vengeance dire?

Punish him not, but spare,

For he is void of power and strength!

Almighty! what is man?

By filthy lust possessed.

Whirled in a round of lies,

Fond frenzy swells his breast.

The pure man sinks in mire and slime,

The noble shrinketh not from crime,

Wilt thou resent on him the charms of sin?

Like fading grass,

So shall he pass.

Like chaff that blows

Where the wind goes.

Then spare him, be thou merciful, O King,

Upon the dreaded day of reckoning!

Almighty! what is man?

The haughty son of time

Drinks deep of sin,

And feeds on crime

Seething like waves that roll,

Hot as a glowing coal.

And wilt thou punish him for sins inborn?

Lost and forlorn,

Then like the weakling he must fall,

Who some great hero strives withal.

Oh, spare him, therefore! let him win

Grace for his sin!

Almighty! what is man?

Spotted in guilty wise,

A stranger unto faith,

Whose tongue is stained with lies,

And shalt thou count his sins—so is he lost,

Uprooted by thy breath.

Like to a stream by tempest tossed,

His life falls from him like a cloak,

He passes into nothingness, like smoke.

Then spare him, punish not, be kind, I pray,

To him who dwelleth in the dust, an image wrought in clay!

Almighty! what is man?

A withered bough!

When he is awestruck by approaching doom.

Like a dried blade of grass, so weak, so low,

The pleasure of his life is changed to gloom.

He crumbles like a garment spoiled with moth;

According to his sins wilt thou be wroth?

He melts like wax before the candle's breath,

Yea, like thin water, so he vanisheth,

Oh, spare him, therefore for thy gracious name,

And be not too severe upon his shame!

Almighty! what is man?

A faded leaf!

If thou dost weigh him in the balance—lo!

He disappears—a breath that thou dost blow.

His heart is ever filled

With lust of lies unstilled.

Wilt bear in mind in his crime

Unto all time?

He fades away like clouds sun-kissed,

Dissolves like mist.

Then spare him! let him love and mercy win,

According to thy grace, and not according to his sin!

Or this of Moses ben Esra.

IN THE NIGHT.

Unto the house of prayer my spirit yearns,

Unto the sources of her beings turns,

To where the sacred light of heaven burns,

She struggles thitherward by day and night.

The splendor of God's glory blinds her eyes,

Up without wings she soareth to the skies,

With silent aspiration seeks to rise,

In dusky evening and in darksome night.

To her the wonders of God's works appear,

She longs with fervor Him to draw anear,

The tidings of His glory reach her ear,

From morn to even, and from night to night.

The banner of thy grace did o'er me rest,

Yet was thy worship banished from my breast.

Almighty, thou didst seek me out and test

To try and to instruct me in the night.

I dare not idly on my pillow lie,

With winged feet to the shrine I fain would fly,

When chained by leaden slumbers heavily,

Men rest in imaged shadows, dreams of night.

Infatuate I trifled youth away,

In nothingness dreamed through my manhood's day.

Therefore my streaming tears I may not stay,

They are my meat and drink by day and night.

In flesh imprisoned is the son of light,

This life is but a bridge when seen aright,

Rise in the silent hour and pray with might,

Awake and call upon thy God by night!

Hasten to cleanse thyself of sin, arise!

Follow Truth's path that leads unto the skies,

As swift as yesterday existence flies,

Brief even as a watch within the night.

Man enters life for trouble; all he has,

And all that he beholds, is pain, alas!

Like to a flower does he bloom and pass,

He fadeth like a vision of the night.

The surging floods of life around him roar,

Death feeds upon him, pity is no more,

To others all his riches he gives o'er,

And dieth in the middle hour of night.

Crushed by the burden of my sins I pray,

Oh, wherefore shunned I not the evil way?

Deep are my sighs, I weep the livelong day,

And wet my couch with tears night after night.

My spirit stirs, my streaming tears still run,

Like to the wild bird's notes my sorrows' tone,

In the hushed silence loud resounds my groan,

My soul arises moaning in the night.

Within her narrow cell oppressed with dread,

Bare of adornement and with grief-bowed head

Lamenting, many a tear her sad eyes shed,

She weeps with anguish in the gloomy night.

For tears my burden seem to lighten best,

Could I but weep my hearts blood, I might rest.

My spirit bows with mighty grief oppressed,

I utter forth my prayer within the night.

Youth's charm has like a fleeting shadow gone,

With eagle wings the hours of life have flown.

Alas! the time when pleasure I have known.

I may not now recall by day or night.

The haughty scorn pursues me of my foe,

Evil his thought, yet soft his speech and low.

Forget it not, But bear his purpose so

Forever in thy mind by day and night.

Observe a pious fast, be whole again,

Hasten to purge thy heart of every stain.

No more from prayer and penitence refrain,

But turn unto thy god by day and night.

He speaks: "My son, yea, I will send thee aid,

Bend thou thy steps to me, be not afraid.

No nearer friend than I am, hast thou made,

Possess thy soul in patience one more night."

Read the following stanzas culled from Ha-Levi's "Elegy on Zion" and ask yourselves, where is the sacred epic that will compare with it?

ON THE VOYAGE TO JERUSALEM.

I.

My two-score years and ten are over,

Never again shall youth be mine.

The years are ready-winged for flying,

What crav'st thou still of feast and wine?

Wilt thou still court man's acclamation,

Forgetting what the Lord hath said?

And forfeiting thy weal eternal,

By thine own guilty heart misled?

Shalt thou have never done with folly,

Still fresh and new must it arise?

Oh heed it not, heed not the senses,

But follow God, be meek and wise:

Yea, profit by thy days remaining,

They hurry swiftly to the goal.

Be zealous in the Lord's high service,

And banish falsehood from thy soul.

Use all thy strength, use all thy fervor,

Defy thine own desires, awaken!

Be not afraid when seas are foaming,

And earth to her foundations shaken.

Benumbed the hand then of the sailor,

The captain's skill and power are lamed.

Gaily they sailed with colors flying,

And now turn home again ashamed.

The ocean is our only refuge,

The sandbank is our only goal,

The masts are swaying as with terror,

And quivering does the vessel roll.

The mad wind frolics with the billows,

Now smooths them low, now lashes high.

Now they are storming up like lions,

And now like serpents sleek they lie:

And wave on wave is ever pressing,

They hiss, they whisper, soft of tone.

Alack! was that the vessel splitting?

Are sail and mast and rudder gone?

Here, screams of fright, there, silent weeping.

The bravest feels his courage fail,

What stead our prudence or our wisdom?

The soul itself can naught avail.

And each one to his God is crying,

Soar up, my soul, to Him aspire,

Who wrought a miracle for Jordan,

Extol Him, oh angelic choir!

Remember Him who stays the tempest,

The stormy billows doth control,

Who quickeneth the lifeless body,

And fills the empty frame with soul.

Behold! once more appears a wonder,

The angry waves erst raging wild,

Like quiet flocks of sheep reposing,

So soft, so still, so gently mild.

The sun descends, and high in heaven,

The golden-circled moon doth stand.

Within the sea the stars are straying,

Like wanderers in an unknown land.

The lights celestial in the waters

Are flaming clearly as above,

As though the very heavens descended,

To seal a covenant of love.

Perchance both sea and sky, twin oceans,

From the same source of grace are sprung.

'Twixt these my heart, a third sea, surges,

With songs resounding, clearly sung.