This being the case when the Goths appeared, it was easy for them to start out afresh on their own lines, and all the more so as many of their governmental ideas were peculiarly adapted to the Spanish temperament. The Goths at the time of their appearance in Spain were no longer barbarians, as their long contact with Rome had given them ample opportunity for education, and they deserve to be considered as disseminators of civilization. Their easy conquest of Spain can then be accounted for in two ways: first, there was not sufficient warlike spirit in the country to successfully oppose them; secondly, they were hailed as liberators rather than as conquerors, because at their coming the real barbarians, who were still threatening the country, were forced to leave. The central idea of the Gothic social system, which was soon established in all parts of the country, was its recognition of the independence of the individual, and especially of the women of the family. The head of the household did not consider himself as the sole possessor of all rights and privileges; the women and children were expected to do their share of fighting the enemy, and were given their share of food and plunder in all equity. The equality of the wife with her husband was strictly enjoined, not only in the marriage ceremony, but also by law, which gave her full control of her own property and a half-interest in the possessions held by them both in common.

Alaric II. caused to be published in 506 the code of laws which had been compiled by King Euric, but which was called the Breviarium Alaricianium, wherein, among various other matters, the rights of women are especially enforced. This code was intended only for the use of the Goths, who took position at once as a ruling and noble race, and the rest of the population was still governed by the old Roman code. For almost a hundred and fifty years this double system of legal procedure was maintained, and then its many disadvantages became so evident that a vigorous king sought to remedy the tottering fortunes of the Gothic realm by promulgating a single code, to which all should be subject and which should represent the better features of the two codes hitherto in vogue. Chindaswinth, who ruled from 642 to 654, was responsible for this new departure; and his son Recceswinth, who followed him upon the throne, was the first to administer the revised code, which is known as the Lex Visigothorum. Although the document is but an adaptation of the Roman law to the special needs of the country from the standpoint of Christianity, it shows at the same time the strong influence of the social traditions of the Goths, and especially with reference to its treatment of women.

It is evident from a perusal of these laws that the Goths had high ideals of family life, and that it was their most earnest endeavor to maintain, by means of legal enactment, a rather unusual state of social purity. Women were held in high esteem and occupied a most respected and influential position, and Caesar's wife was their common model. The moral condition of the Romanized Spaniards fell far short of the Gothic standards, however, and it is evident that the new code endeavored to correct the numerous social evils which then afflicted the country. The loose habits of the Romans had been followed all too quickly, and the custom of keeping many slaves in a household had led to a domestic promiscuity which was appalling in some instances, so that the Gothic desire for reform is easily explained. It is interesting to note in this connection that the best account to be found of the moral status of the whole people at this time is contained by implication in the list of things which they are forbidden by law to do. So, the Lex Visigothorum is not only a tribute to the moral sense of its promulgators, but at the same time a storehouse of information with regard to a rather obscure period in Spanish history.

All things considered, one of the most startling things in the new code was a severe statute forbidding public prostitutes, for it is somewhat difficult to believe that the moral tone of society at that time would warrant so stringent a measure. A public flogging was prescribed as the penalty which would be inflicted upon all who failed to obey the statute, and it is altogether probable that the law was administered with the same Puritanic rigor which had brought it into existence. Other provisions there were, animated by this same spirit, which were levelled at the social evils incident to the practice of holding slaves. A woman who had intrigued with her own slave or who wished to marry him was condemned to death in the most summary fashion; and even if the man were a freedman, the penalty was just the same. What a glimpse this gives us of the life of the time, when the slaves were often more charming and more intelligent than their rough masters, and how clear it is that the Goths considered a household conducted with decency and with order as an important element in national prosperity and well-being!

As one might naturally expect, the laws relating to the subject of marriage and divorce are equally severe, even when the contracting parties belong to the same class in society. The equality between wife and husband was again provided for, as it had been in the earlier code, and the woman was again given full control of her own property and a half-interest in the things which had been common property. Once married, divorce was forbidden except in the case of adultery on the woman's part; and though it is clear to see that this was not equal justice for both man and wife, yet such was the fact. When infidelity was proved, the law provided that the wife and her paramour should be delivered up to the tender mercies of the injured husband, who had the right to punish them according to his own inclination. He was given the power of life and death even, under these circumstances, and too often it is to be feared that the punishment became a bloody revenge sanctioned by law. Marriage between Jews and Christians had long been forbidden, as it had been discovered by experience that such a union was bound to lead to proselyting in one form or another; and the death penalty was inflicted upon all who were not content to abide by the statute. Marriage between Goths and Romans had been legalized in 652, but for many years before that time the two races had been kept apart; for the Goths, as the ruling race, considered it prejudicial to their interests to ally themselves in this way with their subjects.

Woman's place in the criminal procedure of the time was unique. It appears that the punishment inflicted for any given crime depended not so much upon the importance of the offence as upon the importance of the criminal, and that almost every injury might be atoned for by the payment of a certain sum of money, the amount depending upon the rank of the person making the payment. Such money payments, wherever a woman was involved, were regulated according to the following scale of values: from her birth to the age of fifteen, she was valued at only one-half the price of a man of her own class; from fifteen to twenty, she was considered of equal value; from twenty to forty, she was rated as worth one-sixth less than a man; and after forty, at even less than half. Inasmuch as both men and women were amenable to the same laws with but this difference in the amount of the penalty in any given case, it would appear that women were recognized to possess a smaller money-earning power than the men; and such was undoubtedly the case, in spite of the fact that both men and women seemed to share alike the various daily tasks in the earlier and simpler days of Gothic rule in Spain. Such participation on the part of the women was by no means common among the Romans, and this fact, together with the spread of slavery, did much to put the women in this secondary position, so far as ability to work was concerned.

With all this apparent equality in fact and in the eyes of the law, it is somewhat doubtful whether or not the wives and mothers really enjoyed a high degree of personal liberty. Their legal rights were clearly defined, but it is certain that they were looked upon as inferior beings. The prevalent customs with regard to the marriage dower show in no uncertain fashion that the wife was considered to a certain extent as the chattel and property of her husband; for a woman could not marry without a dower, but it was paid not by but to her parents, and by her future husband. A marriage of that description may be likened to the sale of a bill of goods. In further proof of this dependent position of the women, and to show the care which was taken to protect them from contamination of any kind, one of the statutes regulating the practice of medicine presents certain interesting features. This law prohibited surgeons from bleeding any freewoman except in the presence of her husband, her nearest relative, or at least of some properly appointed witness. A Salic law dating from about the same period imposed a fine of fifteen pieces of gold upon anyone who should improperly press a woman's hand, but there seems to be nothing to show that the Goths considered legislation upon this important point necessary. Even under these conditions the physician's position was somewhat precarious, as it was provided that in case he should withdraw enough of the patient's blood to cause death, he became the slave of the patient's heir at law!

Spain was like the greater part of the rest of Europe at this time with regard to its intellectual atmosphere; Christianity and Roman civilization had not yet succeeded in stamping out the old pagan beliefs of the early inhabitants, and superstition and ignorance were for a long time characteristic traits of the majority of the people. The air was peopled with demons, the devil himself was no infrequent visitor, witches and fortune tellers were not without influence, and stealthily, by night, many mystic rites were celebrated. Many of the Christian beliefs of the time are likewise the result of ignorance and superstition, but at that time, naturally, only the pagan ideas were condemned. Accordingly, while the law of the Goths recognized trial by ordeal, wherein God is summoned to bear miraculous witness in favor of the innocent, the same law condemned belief in witchcraft! The favorite ordeal among the Goths was trial by red-hot iron. The Church took charge of this ceremony, which was accompanied by a most solemn ritual, and all this was legal and religious and approved by the highest authorities! But the poor witches had to go! It was charged that they were able to produce storm and ruin by means of their incantations, that they offered nightly sacrifices to devils, and that in general they were in league with the powers of darkness and productive of much disorder. Furthermore, soothsayers were not to be consulted concerning the death of a king; and any freeman disobeying this edict was soundly flogged, lost his property by confiscation, and was condemned to perpetual servitude. These mysterious and redoubtable old women who gathered simples upon the mountain side and dealt in the black art had formerly been very numerous, and, although they have always continued to exist in Spain, their number was much diminished by means of the enforcement of the new law.

In addition to the various social and political questions which were demanding settlement at this time, there was a matter of ecclesiastical difference which caused great trouble and confusion. The Goths, though Christians, belonged to the Arian branch of the Church, while the Spaniards were firm believers in the Athanasian or Latin form of Christianity, and the struggle for supremacy between the two went on for many years before either side was willing to submit. Near the beginning of the sixth century, Clothilda, daughter of the Frankish king, Clovis, was married to Amalaric, the Gothic king, whose capital was then in the old city of Narbonne. Political advantages were supposed to come from this international alliance, but the results were quite to the contrary. The queen was an Athanasian, and the king an Arian Catholic, and neither was willing to endure the heresy of the other. Amalaric used his most persuasive arts in his attempts to win over his wife to the Gothic point of view, but his endeavor was in vain, and she remained obstinately true to the God of her fathers. Finally, irritated beyond measure, the king ordered that Clothilda should no longer be allowed to make public profession of her religion, and the result was a merry war which led to the defeat and final death of the Arian sovereign. Late in this same sixth century there was in Spain another Frankish queen, who not only held steadfastly to her own faith, but was the indirect means whereby all the country was induced to abandon the Arian creed. The native Catholic clergy, under the leadership of Leander, a most noted churchman, and Bishop of Seville, had long urged the necessity of such a change, but the Goths were unwilling to submit; and so matters stood until Prince Hermenegild, urged on by Leander, and most of all by his wife Ingunda, led a revolt against his father, King Leovgild. The revolt was not a success, but the star of the Athanasian party was rising rapidly, and the open stand of the queen for the Latin doctrines gave great impetus and power to the whole movement. The triumph was complete when Leovgild's son and heir, Recared, saw that further opposition was useless and publicly announced his conversion to the faith of Rome.

In the early history of the Church in Spain there are many interesting references to women which are not generally known, but which reveal, on the whole, a condition of affairs similar to that which was to be found in other parts of Europe at the same time. Monasteries were probably unknown in the peninsula before the middle of the sixth century, but from a very early day it is certain that women as well as men were taking vows of perpetual chastity and devoting themselves to a life of holy works. Early in the fourth century the Council of Elvira prescribed penalties for professed nuns who might desire to reenter the world, and the Council of Saragossa, in 380, declared that no virgin should be allowed to devote herself to a religious life until she had reached the mature age of forty years. That same Council of Elvira was the first in the history of the Church to ordain the celibacy of the secular clergy, and its thirty-third canon forbade the bishops, priests, and deacons of the peninsula to live as husbands with their wives. In the year 591, the first Synod of Toledo, over which Bishop Leander presided, enacted various canons which give some interesting sidelights on the times. It appears that ecclesiastics had already been forbidden to keep women servants in their houses, but the rule was so often disregarded that it was enacted that in the future, as a punishment for such intractable churchmen, their servants should be sold as slaves and the proceeds handed over to some charitable organization. In just what way this punishment was to affect the clergy, beyond causing them temporary annoyance, it is difficult to understand, but there is no doubt as to the fact.

In all of the seven centuries preceding the Moorish conquest of Spain there had been some little progress, so far as the position of women was concerned, but it cannot be said that the advance had been great. The original Gothic ideas on this subject had been far superior to those held by the Romans, but the rigor of the old ideas lost force in time, and, if the accounts of the Church historians be true, the last Goths to wield the sceptre were so corrupt and led such abandoned lives that God, in his vengeance, sent the Mohammedan horde upon them. In all these shifting times the conditions of life were such that few women were able to take any prominent part in public affairs; or if they did, the imperfect records of the epoch fail to make mention of it. At intervals there were queens, like Ingunda, possessed of a strong and decided character and ready to take a part in the control of affairs, but they were the exception and not the rule, as the education of women was so very limited that few of them knew enough to see beyond a very narrow horizon. Probably the most enlightened woman in all this period was the nun Florentina, sister of Bishop Leander of Seville, who was far-famed for her good works. At the time of her death in 603, she had risen to such distinction on account of her character and her ability that she was made the general director of a system of over forty convents, which were under her continual inspection and control. Such, in brief, is her story; further details are wanting, but even this is enough to impress us with the fact that she must have been a great woman and representative of all that was good and noble in her day.



Chapter XIII

Women among the Moors

The closing years of Gothic rule in Spain, and the various causes which finally led to the Moorish invasion, are somewhat involved in legend and mystery. But in spite of a scepticism which has been openly expressed by some authors, it seems more than probable that the fabled Rodrigo, from his capital at Toledo, actually ruled over Spain in the year 709, and that he was, directly or indirectly, the cause of the invasion of the Moors. According to the commonly accepted story, the moral condition of Spain at the beginning of the eighth century was most deplorable. The Goths had lost that reputation for honesty and chastity which in the earlier days of their power had distinguished them from the Romans. Rodrigo, "the last of the Goths," lived a life of such flagrant profligacy that the coming of the Moors was but just punishment for all his sins. As Miss Yonge has remarked, "the fall of Gothic Spain was one of the disasters that served to justify the saying that all great catastrophes are caused by women." The woman in the present instance was Florinda, often called La Cava, reputed to be the daughter of Count Julian, commander of the south of Spain and in charge of the fortress of Ceuta. Although Rodrigo already possessed a wife, Egilona, who was a brilliant, able, and beautiful woman, he was a man of little moral force and had a roving eye and lusty passions. Seeing Florinda once upon a time, he coveted her, succeeded in winning her affections, and was not content until he had betrayed her confidence and brought dishonor upon her and her father. Count Julian, filled with a righteous anger at this unwarranted act on the part of his liege lord, openly revolted, called in the Moors, and unwittingly opened his country to an invader who would be slow to leave. The story is told in the old ballad, as follows:

"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, Moor, Saracen, Greek renegade, Persian, and Copt, and Latin, in one band Of erring faith conjoined, strong in the youth And heat of zeal, a dreadful brotherhood."

La Cava, the name by which Florinda has been called ever since by the Spaniards, means "the wicked one," and the general theory has been that, in spite of her betrayed innocence, she has been held in execration for all that followed. Others, however, have pointed out the discrepancy between the generally acknowledged purity of character of Florinda and the meaning of La Cava, and it is their opinion that Count Julian's daughter is merely legendary, and that La Cava refers in some allegorical way to the dissolute and voluptuous life which Rodrigo had been leading and which was in itself a good and sufficient reason for all the misfortunes which were to follow.

While all is not clear as to the reason for the invitation to come to Spain, there is no cause to doubt that it was accepted in a most hearty manner. Modern historians do not hesitate to say that the Catholic churchmen, not realizing the danger, invited the Moslems to aid them in repressing a revolt among the Gothic nobles. However the case may have been, Mousa, the Berber chieftain, sent his bravest sheik, Tarik, with a goodly following, to lead the invasion. The white-turbaned warriors crossed the strait between what had always been called the Pillars of Hercules, and landed upon that great rock which has ever since borne that leader's name, Gebel-al-Tarik—Gibraltar—the "rock of Tarik." Rodrigo, with an army of about eighty thousand men, which he had hastily gathered together, hastened to meet the invaders, and the two armies met on the banks of the Guadelete. Egilona, Roderick's wife, was left with a safe guard in the strongly fortified town of Meriba, while the "last of the Goths," in shining armor and wearing a helmet adorned with horns of gold, such as may be seen upon old Gothic coins, fought vainly against the terrible horsemen of the deserts. La bataille est merveillose e pesant, to quote the words of the Song of Roland, describing that other battle, between the Franks and the Moors, some sixty-five years later in the fatal pass of Roncesvalles; the Goths were overwhelmingly defeated, and Rodrigo disappeared in a most mysterious way, leaving his crown and sceptre upon the river bank. Mousa, with another invading force, had followed close upon the heels of Tarik, and he it was who pushed on to Meriba and laid siege to the town, knowing full well that the queen was within the gates, while Tarik, by a series of easy conquests, made his way to Toledo. When the siege came to a close and the Berbers entered the fortifications, they were amazed at the richness and vast amount of treasure which fell into their hands. The jewel caskets of Egilona in particular excited their wonder and admiration, and so many chains of gold and precious stones did they find among her possessions that she was straightway named "the Mother of Necklaces." When the spoils of battle were divided, the fair captive queen fell to the lot of Mousa's son, Abdul Aziz, who had been made ruler over the newly conquered territory. The young Moorish prince was soon a slave to the charms of Egilona, and so great did his love for her become that he married her, with the promise that he would always regard her as queen and would never marry again; he never broke that promise. Seville was his capital, and there his power was so great that the kalif in Damascus, fearing that he might attempt to rule independently, sent out men to take his life. These assassins found him so beloved by his soldiers that they feared to attack him until they had circulated the rumor that Egilona was about to convert him to the Christian faith and that he would soon wear a crown upon his head, like any Christian king. After this story had been spread abroad, the kalif's men followed Aziz to a small mosque, where he went sometimes to pray, cut off his head, and showed it in the public place, with the order for his death.

The Goths were driven to the north and west of the peninsula, while the Moors, in the rich country to the south and east, strengthened their position and laid the foundations for that empire which was to have such a long and brilliant history, in the middle of the eighth century the kalif at Damascus had lost his power to so great an extent that the seat of government was transferred to Cordova, where Abd-el-Rhaman I. reigned for more than a quarter of a century as the first kalif of the Moslem Church resident in Spain. On the borderland there was continual fighting between the Moors and the Christians, and many are the legends which tell of this spirited epoch. The Christians had rallied about the standards of various leaders in the hill countries, and they fought among themselves quite as much as with the Moslem foe. There are even stories to the effect that Christian leaders made alliances with the Moors for more successful forays upon their Christian neighbors, and there are also legends of shameful peace which was bought at the price of Christian tribute. Among all these tales of tribute, that which has most fired the national spirit and inspired the ballad writers is the story of the tribute of a hundred Christian maidens, which was paid by King Ramiro. The indignation of the people at this unworthy act and the reproaches of the Spanish women, who preferred the hardships of war to this cowardly repose, are well expressed in the following verses from the ballad which sings of the cessation of the tribute, wherein a Spanish damsel addresses the king:

"I know not if I'm bounden to call thee by the name Of Christian, Don Ramiro, for though thou dost not claim A heathen realm's allegiance, a heathen sure thou art— Beneath a Spaniard's mantle thou hid'st a Moorish heart.

"For he who gives the Moslem king a hundred maids of Spain, Each year when in its season the day comes round again, If he be not a heathen, he swells the heathen's train: 'Twere better burn a kingdom than suffer such disdain.

"And if 'tis fear of battle that makes ye bow so low, And suffer such dishonor from God our Savior's foe, I pray you, sirs, take warning, ye'll have as good a fright If e'er the Spanish damsels arise themselves to right."

The Moorish conquest had been rapidly made, and generally very little resistance was offered to the advance of the invaders. The emasculating influences of the Roman decadence had been at work to such effect that the sturdy traits of the Goth had disappeared, and there was no real national spirit or energy sufficient for the national defence. To the credit of the Moors, it must be said that their conquest was ever marked by mercy and large-mindedness; and in spite of their absolute power and their intense religious zeal, they permitted the subdued people to enjoy many liberties. Chief among them was their right to worship as Christians, retaining their clergy and their liturgy, which had been compiled by the Spanish bishops Leander and Ildefonso. Christian zeal, however, was not satisfied with a state of inaction. Many times a number of people went to what they considered a glorious martyrdom as the result of their intemperate denunciations of the Koran and the sons of the Prophet. Christianity was allowed to exist without hindrance, but the Moors would not permit criticism of their own faith, and this was natural enough. Several of these Christian martyrs were women, and their stubborn love for their religion cannot but excite our sympathy, however ill advised and unavailing it may have been. The story is told of two poor young girls, Munila and Alodia, the children of a Moslem father and a Christian mother, who had carefully brought them up in her own faith. These maidens became so beautiful that they were called "roses springing from thorns." As the story goes, "their father died and their mother married a less tolerant Moslem, who, finding their faith proof against his threats, brought them before the Kadi. Splendid marriages were offered them if they would quit the Christian faith; but they answered that they knew of no spouse equal to their Lord, no bliss comparable to what He could bestow: and persuasion and torture alike failed with them, until they sealed their confession with their lives." The rage for martyrdom now seemed to grow, and there is a long list of those who went to death as the result of their voluntary acts. Conspicuous here is the case of a wealthy young woman named Columba, who left the Moslem Church, in spite of the entreaties of her family, and entered a convent at Tabanos. By order of the authorities, the other nuns of the establishment were taken to Cordova and locked up, that they might not become violent in their talk and bring destruction upon themselves as the result of their intemperate acts; and Columba was kept in solitary confinement, in the hope that she might be induced to abjure her newly found faith. But she refused to change her belief in any way, and one day escaped, went at once and reviled Mohammed before the kadi, and went to her death, as was inevitable, according to the law of the land.

In the middle of the ninth century, Eulogius, the recently elected Metropolitan Bishop of Toledo, was considered too zealous and too uncompromising in his beliefs, and he was soon summoned before the divan to answer to the charge of participation in the flight and conversion of a Moslem lady, who had taken the name of Leocritia, under which she was canonized at a later date. It was said that the woman had become a Christian through his efforts, and that he had hidden her for a time in the house of his sister. He was decapitated, and his body was thrown into the river; and if the legend be true, a white dove flew over it as it floated down the stream. Leocritia also was put to death. Here, however, the record of these martyrdoms apparently comes to an end, and the force of the folly seems to have spent itself. The Mohammedans were growing more strict all the time in their treatment of the Christians, but the futility of such self-sought martyrdom was finally becoming apparent.

Before the time of these religious disturbances the Moors had not molested the Christians in any way, and the two nations lived side by side in rather friendly intercourse. Intermarriages were not infrequent, and both Moorish and Christian women lived much the same outward life. Each Moor was allowed four wives by law; and while the women of his household were compelled to submit to certain restrictions, their manner of life was far less secluded than that of the average woman of the modern Orient. They went about veiled up to the eyes, and were never allowed to eat with the men; but, socially, men and women mingled together on terms of equality, and their conversations and common enjoyment of music and poetry were unrestricted. In the most brilliant period of the kalifate of Cordova,—between the years 888 and 967,—when the Moors were acknowledged to be the most enlightened people of all Europe, their women were not excluded from participation in educational pursuits. While few if any of them became the intellectual equals of the men, many of them learned enough to become helpful companions for their husbands—and that is not such a bad idea for women's education, even in these modern days, if the voice of the men is to be heard in the land. In Seville a lady named Maryam founded a school for girls, where they were taught science, mathematics, and history, in addition to the various feminine accomplishments of the time. With regard to the mysteries of their attire, this subject can best be treated by a woman who knows whereof she speaks. Miss Yonge, in her interesting book on the Christians and Moors in Spain, has the following to say on the subject: "Their dress was much the same as that of the ladies of North Africa. Full white muslin trousers were tied at the ankle, and a long, full, white gilalah, a mantle of transparent muslin, covered the tighter vest and jacket, both of brilliant colors, over which they wore gold chains, necklaces, and bracelets, with strings of coral, pearl, and amber; while their hair was in little curls, adorned with jewels and flowers. But all this was concealed by the thick, muffling, outer veil; they also had horsehair visards through which they could see without being seen."

With the growth and consolidation of Moslem power in Spain, and as the natural result of the great progress in the mechanic arts of all kinds, life became luxurious and filled with comforts far outside the ken of the sturdy Spanish patriots, who, from their mountain strongholds, were still battling against the rule of the infidel. The effect of all this elegance and refinement was evident in the whole atmosphere of Moorish society, and the beautiful homes of these wonderful people were filled with the most rare and costly works of art. An illustration of how necessary all these luxuries of life finally became to the Mohammedans is found in the statement that the sheik of a tribe on a pilgrimage to Mecca carried with him a whole caravan of dependents and slaves. He had silver ovens in which to bake fresh bread every day, and his camels bore leathern bags filled with snow that he might drink iced sherbet in the midst of the desert. A Moorish general carried to his camp an immense following of women, slaves, musicians, and court poets, and in his pavilioned tent, on the very eve of a battle, there were often feasting and dancing and much merriment, just as if he had been in his sumptuous home at Cordova.

The Moors were generous and public-spirited, and much given to display. The marriage feast which was prepared by Almanzor the Invincible, for his son, in the year 1000, presents a picture of glittering splendor which has been described more than once. Abd-el-Malek was the son's name, and he was being married to his own cousin, one of the most beautiful of the Moorish maidens. The feast took place in the gardens about Almanzor's beautiful country place, Almeria, where at night the whole estate was illuminated by means of lamps which were fastened to every tree and shrub. Musicians, far out upon the lakes, discoursed sweet music from boats which were hung with silken tapestries, and the whole night was given over to pleasures. As a reminder of the customs of the desert tribes, who used to carry off their wives by force, the bride was placed in a spacious pavilion of white silk, where she was carefully guarded by her maids in waiting, each armed with a cunningly wrought wand of ivory and gold. The bridegroom and his attendants came upon them suddenly, however, brandishing gilt maces, and after a mimic struggle, where all was mirth and laughter, the guard of love was overcome and the bride was won. This wedding feast brought joy, not only to those who actively participated in its pleasures, but also to many of the common people; for Almanzor gave dowries to a large number of orphan girls, endowed a large number of schools and colleges, and put new uniforms upon all the members of his bodyguard.

With the death of the great Kalif Al Hakem II.—976—the power of Islam in Spain began slowly to decline. His son and heir, Heschem II., was but a youth of ten, and the Arabs called him Al Mowayed Bi'llah, "the Protected by God." Though the law required that the Ruler of the Faithful should be more than fifteen years old, Heschem was at once proclaimed kalif, although he was given no share in the government. His mother, Sobeyah, the Sultana of Cordova, had acquired some experience in affairs of state during the last few years of her husband's life; now, to help her in her regency, she appointed as her grand vizier Mohammed-ben-Abd-Allah, a man of wonderful power and ability and no other than Almanzor the Invincible, who has already been mentioned. Almanzor had entered the public service as a court scribe, and it was there that, by the charm of his manner and the nobility of his bearing, he first attracted the attention of Sobeyah. The all-powerful sultana was not slow in yielding to his many graces, and he soon became her acknowledged favorite and rose to high positions in the state. It was but natural, then, that Sobeyah should turn to him for aid when her husband's death was announced. On account of the minority of her son, there was an attempt on the part of many in the palace to deprive the sultana of her authority, depose her son, and usurp the office of kalif. Sobeyah, hard pressed and all but defeated, turned to her lover, Almanzor, who suppressed the intrigue and brought order out of confusion. Enjoying as he did the full confidence of the sultana, Almanzor undertook the entire administration of the kingdom as if he had been kalif in name as well as in fact, and his success in all his various undertakings was most wonderful. Heschem, the real kalif, was a virtual prisoner in his harem, and was encouraged by his guardian and friends to devote himself entirely to a religious life, leaving all the cares of state to his mother Sobeyah and to the vizier. Step by step, Almanzor ascended to a position of such power and authority that the sultana became jealous of his might and lost her love in an attempt to regain her authority. In 992, according to Burke, Almanzor used his seal in place of the royal seal on all official documents. In 993 he assumed the royal cognomen of Mowayed. Two years later he arrogated to himself, alone, the title of said, and in 996 he ventured a step further and assumed the title of malik karim, or king. Then it was that Sobeyah determined to reassert her power, cause the overthrow of this ambitious favorite, and rule henceforth in her own name. The officers of the harem and the various court officials were easily won over to her party; the young kalif was urged to assert his manhood, declare himself, throw off the influence of his dreaded guardian, and give active support to the cause of his mother. The sultana became exultant as victory seemed assured. Secretly, she summoned one of Almanzor's military rivals from Africa, that she might have a leader for her forces in the field. The public treasury was at her disposal, and no stone was left unturned to secure ultimate success. As the final coup, the vizier was banished from the royal presence and forbidden to enter the palace. But Almanzor was still the Invincible. Giving no heed to the terms of his banishment, he made his way into the presence of the kalif; and there, by bold yet subtle argument, he not only succeeded in regaining the royal favor, but secured from Heschem a solemn instrument signed with the royal sign manual, whereby he was empowered to assume the government of the entire kingdom. This was the same tragic story which was to be acted over again in the early part of the seventeenth century, in France, when the great prime minister, the Cardinal Richelieu, his jealous rival, the queen-mother, and the weak king, Louis XIII., were more than once engaged in a struggle for power, which ended invariably in the success of the minister. It is difficult to find a more striking historical coincidence, and the case is worthy of remark. In his success, Almanzor showed no hate for his one-time protectress, who had so nearly caused his ruin, and in his administration of affairs he left her entire liberty of action. But her last vestige of power had departed, her most loyal followers had been induced to abandon her cause after the defection of the kalif himself, and Sobeyah, who had been the most powerful of all the Moorish sultanas of Cordova, was now forced in humiliation to withdraw from active participation in worldly affairs and to spend the few remaining years of her life in strict seclusion in a lonely cloister.

In the last part of the eleventh century there were troublous times for the Moors. For a number of years there had been no strong central power among them, and the various emirs who were the rulers of the different parts of the peninsula were so intent upon their own affairs, and so consumed by greed and selfishness, that the general cause suffered mightily and the Spanish Christians grew bolder and bolder in their attacks. Alfonso VI. of Castile was their leader. The danger of total extinction finally became so great that the emirs were induced to join forces for their personal safety and to take measures to preserve their own towns and cities. Realizing their helpless condition, they sent a letter to Yousouf-ben-Tashfyn, Prince of the Almoravides, a Mohammadan tribe of Africa, asking him to come with his hosts to help them do battle against the infidel. Certain portions of this invitation reveal so clearly the deplorable conditions of Moorish society at this time that it is well worth while to spend a moment in their perusal:

"We, the Arabs of Andalusia, have not preserved our illustrious tribes: we have dispersed and intermixed them, and have long had no fellowship with our tribes and families who dwell in Africa. Want of union has led to discord, and our natural enemies are prevailing against us. Each day becometh more unbearable the fury of King Alfonso, who like a mad dog enters our lands, takes our castles, makes Moslems captive, and will tread us under foot unless an emir from Africa will arise to defend the oppressed, who behold the ruin of their kindred, their neighbors, and even of their law. They are no more what they once were. Pleasures, amusements, the sweet climate of Andalusia, delicious baths of fragrant waters, fountains and dainty meats, have enervated them so that they dare not face the toils of war. If thou art moved by desire of earthly wealth, here wilt thou find rich carpets, jewels of gold and silver, precious raiment, delicious gardens, and clear springs of flowing water. But if thine heart seeks only to win eternal life in Allah's service, here is the opportunity, for never are wanting bloody battles, skirmishes, and fights. Here has Allah placed a paradise that from the shadow of weapons thou mayest pass to the everlasting shadow where he rewards the deserving."

Moved by such an appeal, Yousouf came with his armies, defeated the Christians under Alfonso at the terrible battle of Zalakah, and would have followed up his victory had he not been recalled to Morocco by the death of his son. He returned to Spain soon after, however, and then began a conquest in his own interests, having made up his mind that the emirs could be easily dispossessed and that it would be good to rule as the absolute master of all Andalusia. Beginning with Granada, he attacked the emirs each in turn, and in the end subdued them all. Aben Abed, the Emir of Seville and one of the most learned men in Spain, was so beside himself at the thought of this possible defeat, that he sought for aid in any quarter and finally entreated the assistance of the redoubtable Alfonso, his late enemy. As proof of his good faith and by way of inducement, Aben Abed decided to offer to Alfonso the hand of his daughter, Zaida, in marriage. If the traditions be correct, Zaida was a Christian at heart, in spite of her Mohammedan education and surroundings, as the Castilians claimed that she had been converted in a dream in which Saint Isidoro had come to her and prevailed upon her to change her faith. In any event, Alfonso seems to have been only too glad to accept this offer, and Zaida was accordingly escorted in great state to Toledo, which had lately been wrested from the Moors; there she was baptized as Maria Isabella, and then married to the king with much ceremony. This Moorish princess was a perfect beauty of the Oriental type, with dark hair and oval face, and Alfonso may well have been enamored of her charms; but he was no less enamored of her marriage portion, which consisted of the rich cities of Cucuca, Ucles, and Huate. The new queen was hailed with joy by the Christians, as her conversion was considered prophetic of the ultimate and complete success of Alfonso's armies. Unfortunately, Zaida lived for but a short time after her marriage; she died in giving birth to Alfonso's only son, who was named Sancho. Aben Abed's alliance with the Christian monarch for their mutual defence was without final result, however, as he was at last compelled to surrender Seville in 1091, after a stubborn resistance. Aben Abed was exiled, with his wife and daughters, and was sent to the castle of Aginat, in Africa, to live his life away. There, if the reports be true, their food was so scanty that the ladies of the family had to spin to get enough for them all to eat, while the despondent emir tried to beguile the weary hours with poetry. The hardships of their life were so great that finally the emir was left alone in his captivity, and it was four long years before he could follow them in death.

In the latter part of the fourteenth century, the little kingdom of Granada was the most prosperous part of the Moorish territory, and its brilliant life seemed to recall for a moment the splendors of Cordova. Chivalry, driven from southern France by the Albigensian Crusade, had been slowly growing in importance among the Spaniards of the north, and the Moors were not slow in following the courteous spirit and in adopting its code of truth and honor. Mohammed V. controlled the destinies of the Granadine kingdom at this time; and when his son, Aben-Abd-Allah, was married to the daughter of the Emir of Fez, there was a succession of the most splendid fetes and tournaments, which were attended by knights not only from Christian Spain but also from Italy and France. Chivalry was essentially a Christian institution, but its outer forms were readily taken up by the Moors and practised to such an extent that their influence upon society and social conventions soon began to show itself in a most surprising way. The women of the harems, who in former days were generally considered, after the Eastern fashion, as beings who were not to be mentioned, now occupy a more honorable position, and it is recounted that the men "wore the devices of their lady-loves on the rich housings of their steeds—hearts pierced with arrows, a sail guiding a ship, an initial, and in colors denoting their state of mind: yellow and black for grief, green for hope, blue for jealousy, violet and flame for ardent love. Large assemblies were held in the beautiful houses and gardens, where hunting, poetry, music, and dancing were the chief occupations; but the grave learning and earnestness of Al Hakem's days had passed away, and the enjoyments had become far more sensual and voluptuous than in his time." It is evident that the frugal, stern, uncompromising sons of the Prophet of an earlier day were becoming men of little faith in many particulars, and that they had fallen far below the standard of life which had characterized their ancestors. But in this state of moral degeneracy it is gratifying to note that the position of women has been much improved and that they are no longer regarded as mere slaves. The customs of chivalry, as has been indicated, were responsible for much of this, but the influence of the many Spanish women who were held as captives in the harems must not be overlooked.

The closing years of Moorish dominion in Spain were marked by many adventures of a most romantic character, which have been made familiar to the world at large by Washington Irving. When Aboul Hacem came to the throne in 1466, the Mohammedan power was already tottering; but there were troubles in Castile which emboldened the king to such an extent that, in 1476, when the regular demand for tribute money was presented, he is said to have made answer: "Those who coined gold for you are dead. Nothing is made at Granada for the Christians but sword-blades and lance-points." Although ultimate success for the Moors was now entirely out of the question, their final defence was not what it might have been—a state of affairs which was the result of various contentions that emanated largely from the harem. Conspicuous in these intrigues was Zoraya, "the Morning Star," a renegade Christian who was the favorite wife of the king. Though childless, Zoraya had interested herself in Boabdil, the son of another wife, Ayescha, and had determined to drive Aboul Hacem from his throne, that his son might rule in his place. So formidable did the plot become that the king was forced to imprison Ayescha and Boabdil in a certain quarter of the harem; but their captivity was short, as they were soon put at liberty by friendly hands. Twisting a rope from the veils of the sultana's women in waiting, wife and son let themselves down from a window and sought refuge among their supporters. Countless quarrels followed, which ended in Boabdil's final success, and in them all, Zoraya was his firm friend and adviser. But success at such a time and for such a cause was little more than failure, and the day was soon to come when sultanas and intriguing harem favorites could no longer trouble the land with their contentions; for the power of Isabella the Catholic was soon to be felt, and the doom of the Moor had been sounded.



Chapter XIV

The Women of the Little Monarchies

In spite of the fact that Spain was an easy conquest for the Moors and that whole cities surrendered to the invaders without having struck a single blow in their own defence, it must not be supposed that there was no opposition whatever and no show of Spanish patriotism. The great mass of the population, it is true, were yielding and willing to accept any terms, so long as they were allowed to live unmolested. Such were the Romanized Spaniards, who formed a majority of the population, but who had long been held in subjection by the masterful Goths. As a race they lacked energy and vitality, and they were too corrupt and pleasure-loving to be moved by patriotic instincts in such a time of national crisis. A certain portion of the Goths, however, after their defeat at the battle of Guadalete, decided to renounce their lands and all their possessions rather than live under the rule of the Mohammedans; and with their wives and children and such little treasure as they could hurriedly get together, they set out for the north and found a refuge in the rocky slopes of the Pyrenees. The mountain passes were not under the control of any of these Christian refugees, and the Moors were free to advance on the fair fields of southern France so long as they did not turn aside to molest the Spanish patriots. When they did make such attack, the fortunes of war were generally against them, and more than once those modes of mountain warfare were employed which at an earlier date wrought such great havoc with the hosts of Charlemagne at the pass of Roncesvalles. In these desperate conflicts, as in the olden time when the Celtiberians were trying to beat back the power of Rome, the women were not slow to take their place beside their fathers and husbands at the first wild call to arms. The old Moorish leader Mousa had spoken well when he told the kalif at Damascus that the Christians of Spain were lions in their castles, and the Moors were repeatedly given ample proof of the wisdom of his observation.

"Covadonga's conquering site Cradle was of Spanish might,"

so says the old ballad. And what and where was Covadonga? At the far western extremity of the Pyrenees, where the Sierra Penamerella thrusts its rugged spur into the Atlantic, was a great mountain cavern, Covadonga, large enough to shelter as many as three hundred men, and there had gathered together the strongest of the Christian bands after the Moorish victory in the south. A long, sinuous valley or ravine, named Cangas, that is to say, the "shell," sloped down to the foothills from the mouth of the cave and seemed to present an easy approach to the stronghold. Pelayo, of the royal line of the Goths, had here been proclaimed a king in 718, and here was the beginning of that kingdom of Asturias and Leon which was later to become a mighty one in Spain. The Moors soon tried to crush this growing power, which was a menace to their own security. They sent an army under a chief named Al Kama, who was to win over the recalcitrants by the offer of fair terms, if possible; and if not, he was to storm their rude citadel and destroy them utterly. The proposal for a shameful peace was indignantly refused, and the Moors, confident of victory, and outnumbering the Christian warriors many times, swept up the broad slope of the long and winding valley to the cavern's mouth. The summits of the rocky walls on either side were filled with people, many of them women, who were waiting for the signal from Pelayo and his brave handful of followers. When the foreguard of the Moors was near the entrance to the cave, the king and his men, mounted, led the attack in front, and all along the line the carnage began. Now let the Spanish ballad speak again:

"'In the name Of God! For Spain or vengeance!' And forthwith On either side along the whole defile, The Asturians shouting: 'In the name of God!' Set the whole ruin loose: huge trunks, and stones, And loosened crags, down, down they rolled with rush And bound and thundering force."

The mountain torrent which had its course along the valley was dyed red with the pagan blood, and so great was the humiliation of the Moors that the Arab chroniclers observe a discreet silence with regard to the details of this defeat. But for the brave and valiant assistance of the Spanish women this defeat might not have been possible.

Another instance of the bravery of the Spanish women, which at this distance seems somewhat tinged with the air of comic opera, is connected with the heroic defence of Orihuela. It was at the time of the Moorish invasion, when the Gothic leaders, after their pitiful failure at Guadalete, were seeking cover and scurrying off to places of safety, closely pursued by the ardent sons of the Prophet. Duke Theodomir, hard pressed in the mountains of Murcia, was obliged to ride for his life; and with but few attendants, he finally succeeded in making his way, after many adventures, to the walled town of Orihuela, with the enemy close upon his heels. To prevent an immediate attack, gain time, and circumvent the Moors in as many ways as possible, Theodomir had to think quickly. The town was practically without a garrison when he entered it, and his followers were too few in numbers to avail him much. Then it was that the women of the town came to his assistance, offering to do what he might command for the common safety. Theodomir clothed them in armor at once, gave them spears and swords, ordered them to tie their hair under their chins, that they might look like bearded men, and then stationed his amazon warriors upon the walls and fortifications, where they made such a brave parade that the Moors were afraid to attack the city, and offered to parley with the Spaniards. Seizing upon this favorable opportunity, Theodomir, disguised as a legate, and preceded by his page, who played the part of a royal herald, boldly entered the hostile camp, made his way to the tent of Abdul Aziz, the leader, and there, by his consummate acting, succeeded in obtaining the province of Murcia, together with seven cities which he was to hold under the kalif, on condition of a yearly tribute. Such was the defence of Orihuela, and while it involved no strenuous fighting, it was at the same time no mediocre test of womanly daring. After the first few trying hours of the masquerade had been passed, however, and it was evident that the ruse had been successful, it may well be imagined that these feminine warriors were not slow to see the humor of the situation, and many must have been the jests as they passed each other upon the battlements, with the Moors, far down below, completely awed by their warlike mien.

Dryden has said: "Women emasculate a monarch's reign;" and more than one instance of the truth of this statement may be found in the court annals of almost any country. The history of the little monarchies of Spain in that chaotic, formative period, when the Christians were slowly gaining in power and strength and preparing for the great final struggle which was to overcome the turbaned invaders and consolidate the Spanish interests, presents many chapters of exceeding interest wherein women play no unimportant role, and the dowager-queen Teresa, mother of King Sancho the Fat, of Leon, stands out as a prominent figure among them all. Endowed with no mean portion of feminine art and cunning, she was the author of a plot which gave inspiration for a whole cycle of ballads. The bravest Christian champion in all Spain in the latter half of the tenth century was Fernan Gonzalez, Count of Castile, a veritable Spanish Warwick, who was held in such high esteem by his countrymen that they inscribed upon his great carved tomb at Burgos: A Fernan Gonzalez, Libertador de Castilla, el mas excelente General de ese tiempo [To Fernan Gonzalez, liberator of Castile, the greatest general of his time]. His great success, however, in his forays against the Moors made Dona Teresa fearful lest some harm might befall her sluggish son, King Sancho. For some time Sancho had been on good terms with the Moors. He had even journeyed to Cordova to consult a celebrated physician, and had in many ways been treated with such favor by the kalif, Abd-el-Rhaman, that people had begun to shake their heads and ask themselves whether the ruler of Leon was doing all in his power for the good of Christendom. After the great success of Gonzalez at Pedrahita, where the Saracen invader Abu Alaxi suffered signal defeat, there was greater dissatisfaction than ever with this do-nothing policy, and the Count of Castile was hailed on every hand as the greatest of the Christian warriors. Her jealousy aroused, Dona Teresa now resolved upon desperate measures, ready to stop at nothing in her mad desire to overthrow Gonzalez. On her advice, the count was summoned to Sancho's capital, Oviedo, for a general conference in regard to matters of Christian defence, and to Oviedo Gonzalez came, little suspecting the trap which had been laid for him there. Dona Teresa knew that Gonzalez had lately lost his wife, and she found opportunity during his stay, after many words of fulsome flattery, in which she was no novice, to counsel him to seek the hand of her niece, Dona Sancha, daughter of King Garcia of Navarre. She even undertook to arrange this marriage for him and promised to send her messengers on ahead, that the Navarrese court might be ready to receive him in case he thought best to go at once to press his suit. Gonzalez, at this moment a living example of Gay's couplet,

"And when a lady's in the case, You know all other things give place,"

all inflamed by the glowing descriptions of Dona Sancha's beauty, and at the same time fully aware of the political advantage which might follow from this alliance with the powerful house of Navarre, was only too eager to go on the moment, as the cunning Dona Teresa had supposed; and he set out at once, leaving Oviedo amidst the sound of martial music, with banners flying, and the populace cheering lustily and in all good faith, for they loved this doughty hero. Dona Teresa had kept her word, in that she had sent on her messengers ahead to announce his coming, but the reception that she was preparing for him was far different from the one which he had imagined. King Garcia was informed by his crafty sister that Gonzalez was coming with an impudent demand for his daughter's hand, and that for the general safety he should be seized and put into one of the castle dungeons as soon as he appeared. Dona Sancha, the prospective bride of his ardent imagination, was no party to all this, for the rumors of Gonzalez's visit which had come to her ears had filled her with excitement, and she looked forward to his coming with no little fluttering of heart. King Garcia, however, was faithful to his sister's command, and the poor Count Gonzalez, taken unawares, was promptly cast into prison on his arrival. What Dona Sancha did on learning the unworthy role she had been made to play in this sad event is well told in the ballad which recounts the story, and here, as will be seen, a Norman knight is made to act as her informant. The verses are in Lockhart's admirable translation:

"The Norman feasts among the guests, but at the evening tide He speaks to Garci's daughter within her bower aside: 'Now God forgive us, lady, and God His Mother dear, For on a day of sorrow we have been blithe of cheer.

"'The Moors may well be joyful, but great should be our grief, For Spain has lost her guardian, Castile hath lost her chief; The Moorish host is pouring like a river o'er the land; Curse on the Christian fetters that bind Goncales's hand.

"'Goncales loves thee, lady, he loved thee long ago, But little is the kindness that for his love you show; The curse that lies on Cava's head, it may be shared by thee. Arise! let love with love be paid, and set Goncales free.'

"The lady answers little, but at the midst of night, When all her maids are sleeping, she hath risen and ta'en her flight; She hath tempted the alcayde with her jewels and her gold, And unto her his prisoner, that jailer false hath sold.

"She took Goncales by the hand at the dawning of the day, She said 'Upon the heath you stand, before you lies the way, But if I to my father go—alas! what must I do! My father will be angry—I fain would go with you.'"

It is perhaps needless to add that the fair Dona Sancha did go with the gallant captain, and in the lofty cathedral at Burgos, which was his capital, their wedding was celebrated in great state. At the conclusion of the marriage feast, however, Gonzalez determined to punish the faithless Garcia, and made war against him to such good effect that he was made a prisoner and only released after the repeated intercessions of his sister, Dona Teresa. Why Gonzalez should have listened to the pleadings of Teresa after her treatment of him is rather hard to imagine. A still further proof of his unsuspicious character is seen in the fact that he allowed himself to be inveigled into going to Leon to attend a meeting of the Cortes, and while there he was again imprisoned. Such was the sum of Dona Teresa's iniquity, and all because she was in the clutch of the green-eyed monster and put a higher value upon the glory of her house than upon the glory of the Christian arms. This was the occasion for the good wife Dona Sancha to show her courage and loyalty, which stand out in striking contrast to the treacherous acts of her jealous aunt. It was Shakespeare who said: "These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues;" and as the alcayde had been won over at the time of Gonzalez's first captivity, so now again Dona Sancha put her nimble wits to work and devised another plan for his release. In robe of sombre hue, she set out upon a pious pilgrimage to Santiago; and as her way lay through Leon, where her husband languished in prison, she resolved to tarry by the way for a short while and visit him in his misery. Permission for such a visit was slow in coming, as Dona Teresa was resolved this time that Gonzalez should not escape. After much pleading, however, Dona Sancha had her way, and the prison doors swung open before her. Once alone with her husband, she quickly changed clothes with him; and the Count of Castile, in the garb of a woman, soon after passed the jailers and found himself at liberty. By the time the ruse was discovered, he was leagues away and in safety among his friends. The wrath of Teresa and her son King Sancho may well be imagined when the news was brought to them; but they resolved to take the matter in a philosophic way, after the first moment of anger had passed, and Dona Sancha was allowed to join her husband, going unharmed from this unfriendly court.

In all this warring, romantic period of the tenth century, by far the most interesting and thrilling tale is that of Dona Lambra and the Seven Lords of Lara, and while the story is somewhat legendary and based rather upon stirring ballads than upon authentic records, it must not be forgotten here. Dona Lambra, a kinswoman of the Count of Castile, had been married with great ceremony at Burgos to Ruy Velasquez, brother-in-law to Don Gonzalo, Count of Lara in the Asturias; and during the five weeks of pleasure and feasting which celebrated this happy event, there were no knights in all the glittering throng more striking in appearance and more admired for their many accomplishments than the seven stalwart sons of Don Gonzalo, the nephews of the bridegroom, who were called the Seven Lords of Lara. During the very last week of the festivities a wooden target was set up upon the other side of the river, and the knights threw light Moorish djerrids, or wooden javelins, at it, each trying with a surer aim to outdo his fellows. Dona Lambra was an interested spectator, and when at last Alvaro Sanchez, one of her favorite cousins, struck the target full in the centre, she was more than pleased, and declared that he was the best marksman of them all. The Seven Lords of Lara had taken no part in this contest as yet, for six of the brothers had been busily engaged in playing chess, and the youngest of them all, Gonzalo Gonzales, had been standing idly by. Piqued, however, by Dona Lambra's praise of her kinsman, young Gonzalo threw himself upon his horse, rode to the river's edge, and hurled his djerrid with such force that he completely shattered the target far on the other side. This unexpected turn of events so angered the bride that she grew white with rage, and Alvaro vented his spleen in such abusive language that Gonzalo dealt him a blow which struck him fairly upon the mouth and knocked out his teeth. Thereat Dona Lambra cried out that no maiden had ever been so dishonored at her wedding, and bloodshed was narrowly averted by the interference of the Counts of Castile and Lara. As it was feared that Ruy Velasquez might be urged on to vengeance by his angered wife, he was induced to set out upon a trip through Castile with many of the older knights, while the Seven Lords of Lara, in the midst of a larger company, were left to escort the bride to her new home at Bavardiello. Once arrived, the brothers went into the garden of the palace, where Gonzalo, who was a devotee of falconry, was engaged in bathing his favorite hawk, when suddenly, without warning, one of Dona Lambra's slaves rushed upon him and threw in his face a gourd filled with blood. In mediaeval Spain this was a most deadly insult, and all the brothers drew their swords and rushed after the offender. They came upon him crouching at Dona Lambra's feet, and there they killed him without mercy, so that his blood was sprinkled upon her garments. Then, taking their mother with them, they returned to their home at Salas. This time Dona Lambra demanded vengeance in no uncertain tone, and Ruy Velasquez began to plot in her behalf. The old Count of Lara was prevailed upon to go to the kalif at Cordova, bearing a letter from Velasquez which was supposedly of political import, but which was intended to be the count's death warrant. The kalif, loath to put so brave a knight to death, cast him into prison. Soon after, he made an attack upon the Christians. Velasquez gathered an army to oppose him, and succeeded in getting the young Lords of Lara to join him. In the midst of the battle, Velasquez and his whole army deserted, leaving the seven youths and a small company of retainers to fight alone against the Moorish host. Taken prisoners, their heads were cut off and sent to Cordova, where the kalif was cruel enough to present them to their imprisoned father for identification. Now let the ballad take up the story:

"He took their heads up one by one, he kissed them o'er and o'er; And aye ye saw the tears run down, I wot that grief was sore. He closed the lids on their dead eyes, all with his fingers frail, And handled all their bloody curls, and kissed their lips so pale.

"'Oh had ye died all by my side upon some famous day, My fair young men, no weak tears then had washed your blood away; The trumpet of Castile had drowned the misbelievers' horn, And the last of all the Lara's line a Gothic spear had borne.'

"With that it chanced a man drew near to lead him from the place, Old Lara stooped him down once more, and kissed Gonzalo's face; But ere the man observed him, or could his gesture bar, Sudden he from his side had grasped that Moslem's scymetar."

Before the count was overpowered he had killed thirteen of the Moors, and then he begged that he might be put to death; but the kalif, on learning all of the details of the treachery of Velasquez, restored the count to liberty and sent him back to his wife in the castle at Salas. The fate of the revengeful Dona Lambra is not recorded, but it is to be hoped that she was made to atone in some way for all her savage rage.

About Ximena and her far-famed husband Don Rodrigo, widely known as the Cid, many marvellous tales have been told, and it is a matter for regret that so many of them are purely legendary. According to one of the traditions, which was followed by the French dramatic poet Pierre Corneille when he wrote his famous play, Le Cid, in 1636, Ximena is given a much more prominent place in the story than that accorded to her in history. According to this version, Don Diego, father of Don Rodrigo, is given a mortal insult by the braggart Don Gomez, who is the father of Ximena. Young Don Rodrigo, eager to avenge the slight put upon his aged father, provokes Don Gomez to a duel and kills him. Ximena, who has loved Don Rodrigo, overcome by these tragic events, is at a loss to know what to do, and in her heart there is a fierce struggle between her love for her lover and her respect for her father. This distressing situation is relieved somewhat by the thought that Don Rodrigo, in killing her father, has but avenged his own; but still her Spanish nature cries for redress, and she appeals to King Fernan of Castile, at whose court all these things have taken place. Believing her love for Don Rodrigo to be stronger than her hatred, the king suddenly announces the death of Rodrigo, which so surprises Ximena that she discloses her deep affection, which she had made an attempt to conceal; whereat he announces his intention to unite the two lovers as soon as Rodrigo should have given further proof of his valor.

As a matter of fact, the Cid was a free-lance of undoubted bravery and courage, who fought now with and now against the Moors; but in spite of the fact that he was not always true to the same allegiance, he is essentially a popular hero, as he represents a spirit of boldness and independence which in itself is enough to endear him to the minds of the people. His killing of Don Gomez in the manner described is extremely doubtful, and history affords no details as to the manner of his wooing or his wedding. But Ximena was his wife, shared in many of his hardships, and at his death, in 1099, ruled in his stead for three years at Valencia. Finally, much harried by the Moslems, who were ever growing bolder, Ximena withdrew to Burgos, taking with her the body of the Cid, embalmed in precious spices, and borne, as in the days of his vigor, on the back of his great warhorse Babieca. The Cid was buried in the monastery of Cardena, near Burgos; and there the brave Dona Ximena was laid by his side at the time of her death, in 1104. Although a number of fanciful stories have been told about the daughters of Ximena and the doughty Cid, the fact remains that they had two daughters, who married into some of the noblest houses of all Spain. The elder, Christina, became the wife of Ramiro, Infante of Navarre; while the younger, Maria, married Count Ramon Berenguer III. of Barcelona. After a long series of intermarriages, to quote from Burke, in a double stream, through the royal houses of Spain and of France, the blood of the Cid is found to flow in the veins of his majesty Alfonso XIII., the reigning King of Spain.

The religious side of Spanish life in the eleventh century, so far as Christianity is concerned, centres about a woman, Constance of Burgundy, the wife of King Alfonso VI. of Castile. This was the period when the monk Hildebrand, become Pope Gregory VII., was endeavoring to unify the power of the Roman Church and strengthen the authority of the papacy; and as he had a devout woman, the Countess Matilda of Tuscany, to aid him in Italy, so he had as his firm ally in Spain the pious Queen Constance, daughter of King Robert of France. Constance was not a Spanish woman, but the influence she exerted in Spain had such a far-reaching effect that she cannot be overlooked in any category such as the present. With Constance to Spain came the monk Bernard of Cluny, a pale ascetic, who had just been leading a crusade against the corruption existing in the Church itself, and whose whole life had been devoted to serious things. The French court had been given over to works of piety, the Church had great authority, and the clergy were held in high esteem. When the French princess left this devout atmosphere to go to sunny Spain, she had grave misgivings as to the frivolous and irreverent character of her new subjects, and deemed it wise to take with her as a friend and adviser the stern Bernard. The worst fears of these two zealous Christians were more than realized. The king had friendly intercourse with Moorish vassals, and Moslem and Christian lived side by side in perfect harmony! That all this should be and at a time when the same Moslem brood was defiling the place of the Holy Sepulchre in far-off Palestine, and when the crusading spirit filled the air, was almost beyond belief, and Constance and the monk were greatly scandalized thereat. Totally without that toleration which comes with experience, they could conceive of no religion as a good religion which did not meet the rigid requirements of their own belief; and they planned at once a Spanish crusade which was intended to improve the general deplorable condition of public morals and at the same time to modify, in a most radical way, the liturgy of the Spanish Church, which was far too lax in points of discipline. Their conduct at the time of the surrender of Toledo, in 1074, is a most excellent example of the eager, yet thoughtless, way in which they went about their new work. When King Alfonso, after an interval of more than three hundred years, regained possession of the ancient capital of the Goths, the city from which the luckless Rodrigo, the last of the Goths, was driven, Toledo was surrendered on the express condition that the Moors should not be disturbed in their religious beliefs and that they were to retain the use of their mosques. Such terms with such an enemy appeared monstrous to the queen. Especially did it seem a sin before God that the principal mosque, the Alfaqui, the noblest building in all that fair city which lay stretched out with many a gilded dome and minaret upon its seven hills above the Tagus, should still be used for the worship of a pagan people; and Constance and Bernard plotted together, piously, for the triumph of the true religion. The first time that the king left the city, Bernard, now Archbishop of Toledo, acting under the authority of Queen Constance, went to the Alfaqui at the head of a company of monks summoned from his monastery at Sahagun, opened the doors, set up crosses, erected altars, hung bells, and then publicly summoned the people to mass on the following morning. The king, upon his return, was furious at this intolerant act, and was moved to threaten punishment; but the Moors, satisfied by his indignation, displayed a real spirit of toleration in asking for the pardon of the monks.

The queen and Bernard, successful in this first struggle, continued to labor incessantly for the glory of the Church. The masterful Pope Gregory VII., in his letter addressed to the princes of Spain, said: "You are aware, I believe, that from the earliest times the kingdom of Spain was the special patrimony of Saint Peter, and although pagans have occupied it, it still belongs to the same master." The King of Castile was not bold enough to deny this papal claim of overlordship, and Gregory demanded as first proof of his submission that he should substitute throughout his realm the Roman liturgy for the national or Mozarabic ritual then in general use. Queen Constance and Bernard were in favor of this reform, and they prevailed upon the king to accept it; but it was a far different matter to secure its actual use at the hands of the national clergy, who were strongly opposed to the change. In spite of all her efforts the queen could do nothing, and finally, as a compromise, it was decided to submit the question to the ordeal of trial by battle. Two champions were duly appointed who fought before a most august assembly over which the queen presided. The Knight of the Gothic Missal, Don Juan Ruiz de Matanzas, killed the Champion of Rome, and was not only victorious, but unscathed, much to the disgust of Constance and her followers. The manifest disinclination to accept this result as final made another ordeal necessary, and this time, in truly Spanish style, a bull fight was resolved upon. The great arena at Toledo was selected as the place where this ecclesiastical combat was to take place, and on the appointed day the great amphitheatre was crowded with an expectant multitude. The queen, the king, and the archbishop, backed by black-robed monks, looked on with evident interest, hoping that this time the scales would turn in their favor; but the people, expert in contests of this kind, had already picked the Castilian bull as the winner and had begun to wager their small coin as to the probable duration of the fight. The people were right, the Roman toro was promptly slain, and once more the cause of Spain was triumphant. But the queen was persistent, and in spite of the fact that the result of each of these ordeals was popularly considered as a direct sign from heaven, she refused to accept them as final, because her pet project had been rejected. If the results had been different, there is little doubt but that the ordeals would have been received as infallible. However, it was not possible to cast a slight upon this time-honored procedure by any act which might tend to throw it into disrepute, so the whole question was dropped for the space of seven years. Queen Constance, in this interval, carried on a quiet campaign which she hoped would lead eventually to the adoption of the much discussed and twice rejected liturgy, and at no time did she give up her hope. Rome, to her narrow mind, must reign supreme in matters spiritual if the kingdom of Spain was to have relations with the kingdom of heaven, and she did not hesitate to ride rough-shod over the national clergy, to whom alone, without any aid whatever from the pope, the recent Christian successes in Spain had been due. When she considered the time ripe for some radical action, Gregory sent his legate, the Cardinal Ricardo, to hold a Church council at Burgos, and there it was formally decreed that the Mozarabic ritual must be put aside in Castile. Before the formal adoption of the Roman form, however, it was decided wise to resort once more to a trial by ordeal, as the favorable issue of such a public test would make it much easier to conquer the prejudices of the people. This time, Constance advising it, the ordeal by fire was tried, and, as Miss Yonge phrases it, "a great pile was erected in the market place of Toledo for the most harmless auto de fe that ever took place there." Seats were built up on all sides in amphitheatre fashion, the queen, the king, the court, and the dignitaries of the two clerical parties were there in special boxes, and again were the people much in evidence, but this time much in doubt as to the final outcome. When all was ready, the torch was applied to the pile and the two volumes were committed to the flames. The book which was not consumed by the fire was to be considered acceptable to God. To the chagrin of the papal party, the Roman book was utterly consumed, but the Gothic missal came forth unscathed. Although there was great rejoicing at this final triumph for the national clergy, the foreigners were in control, and the king, urged on by his wife, decided to act upon his own responsibility, without regard for the manifest judgment of heaven, and lost no time in giving his signature to the decree of the Council of Burgos, which then went into immediate effect. This time the people made no resistance, and, as has been said, Spain became once more, after the lapse of nearly seven centuries, the obedient province of Rome. In the succeeding centuries the influence of Rome has been ever present and powerful in the affairs of the Spanish peninsula, and whether for its weal or woe, which is not a matter for consideration here, the fact remains that Queen Constance was the one person in Spain who was most responsible for this state of affairs. Her unflagging interest in the success of the papal party and her perseverance in the face of the opposition of a majority of the Spanish clergy made her the life of the whole movement, and to this day she is held in grateful memory at the Holy See.



Chapter XV

Women in Early Political Life

After the time of the good Queen Constance and with the growth of the Spanish monarchies, which in spite of all their internal turmoil and confusion were fast becoming more powerful and more of a menace to the Moslem rule, the wheels of fate seem to bring women into greater political prominence than ever before. Constance, it is true, had been no mean figure in that epoch, and had exerted a most powerful influence in shaping the destinies of Spain for her own time and for the future, but this was done by an exercise of indirect rather than direct authority. Constance had been queen, but there had been a king to rule as well, and with him remained the real power. As Constance influenced him, she may have been said to use this royal power, it is true, but the fact remains that it was the woman Constance who was using her powers of feminine persuasion to bring about the results which were so dear to her heart. No political responsibilities rested upon her shoulders, there were no cares of state to weary and make uneasy her crowned head, and she was free to follow her own penchants unimpeded by this larger task. But now a wider field for the activities of women seems to come; in Spain, chance gives them full control in their own name in certain instances, and they bear the full responsibility. The measure of their success may not be greater than the measure of their failure in these new lines of endeavor, but, good or bad as their methods of administration may have been, it does not appear that they fall below the level of masculine achievement at the same time. And this is a curious thing. Since the birth of time men have been regarding women as weaklings, both mentally and physically. Tennyson has it that "woman is the lesser man," and such has been the commonly expressed opinion. Everything in the social life of the world has conspired to give truth to this statement; women are still the real slaves of their husbands in many countries, and the virtual slaves in almost all the world; education has been granted to them grudgingly, the scope of their intellect has been limited in the narrowest way; and in spite of all these facts, in spite of this suppression and repression from time immemorial, women have been able by some power or some cunning to exert a most powerful influence in the world, and when called upon to take up a man's work they have left a record for judgment and skill and wisdom which needs no apologies and which is generally above the average. To those who are content with generalities it may be sufficient to say that women are not the equals of men, but to anyone who attempts to study, step by step, the history of human development it becomes apparent that the French admonition Cherchez la femme contains the truth, unalloyed. In America it has become the custom to say that in every great national emergency there is always a man ready to meet the situation and meet it nobly and with understanding; and what can be said here can be said with equal truth perhaps in other countries of the world, but to this statement it may be well to add that women also may be found to do nobly the tasks which may fall to their lot.

In every day and generation, however, it will rarely be found that the women are better than the men. The interests of men and women are so identical from so many points of view, society is in so many ways but a composite of their common interests, that their moral level must of necessity be the same. By intuition, then, by inherent capacity, by woman's wit, by that something feminine which is at once the power and the charm of a woman, the members of this so-called weaker sex have been able to take their place worthily beside their brothers in the open field of the world's activities whenever circumstance has called them forth, without the inheritance, the education, or the experience which the men possess, but morally they can but be as society makes them. There are exceptions to all rules, however; some women as well as some men may be better or worse than the majority of their fellows, and these are the ones who are signalled out by the historian for special attention. The people who are always good and always happy have no history, as there is nothing noteworthy to tell of them, life has no tragedies, all is plain sailing, and the whole story can be told in a few words. In a measure the same thing is true of the ordinary man, be he good or bad, for what can be said of him can be said of a whole class, and so the history of the class may be told, but the individual will always remain in the background.

In the special epoch of Spanish history with which the present chapter is concerned, the twelfth century and the first part of the thirteenth, there is little to say of women in general which cannot be said of the mediaeval women of other parts of Europe. Oriental ideas had been introduced to some extent, it is true, by the Moors, but otherwise the general ignorance and dependence of the women of the time call for no special comment. Above this commonplace level there are to be seen, nevertheless, two women who occupied a commanding position in the world, which was quite unusual. They were both queens of Castile, and as one was bad, vain, reckless, and frivolous, so was the other good, unselfish, wise, and dignified. Within the extremes of character which their lives present is traced the measure of a woman's possibilities at that time.

Urraca of Castile, daughter of Constance and King Alfonso VII., inherited little of her mother's devout nature; the world rather than the Church had attracted her, and she began to show at an early age a taste for gallantry and intrigue which became but more pronounced with her maturer years. She was dark rather than fair, with an imperious bearing, she had compelling eyes, and there was a grace in her movements which it was difficult to see without admiring, but she was vain, intent upon conquest, and without an atom of moral firmness, if all accounts be true. Her mother was sorely tried by her waywardness, but did not live long enough to appreciate her real lack of moral instinct; and her father, in spite of his several marriages, which were almost as numerous as those of Henry VIII. of England, was chagrined to find Urraca as his sole heir, no other children having survived. In the hope that France might again furnish material for a dignified alliance as it had done before in sending Constance herself, Alfonso arranged for the marriage of Urraca with Raymond of Burgundy. Urraca was soon left a widow, with one son, Alfonso; and while she apparently felt some affection for this child, she was in no way weaned from her love of excitement, and was soon again the soul and centre of the court's gay revels. One among the throng of courtiers attracted her, the tall Count Gomez of Candespina, and she made no secret of her love for him. As often seen together, they formed a striking pair, and it was not strange that the Castilian nobles should have wished to see them married, in spite of the fact that the prospective bridegroom was not her equal by birth. No one dared to give Alfonso this advice, however, as his refusal was a foregone conclusion, all things being taken into consideration. Finally, the Jewish physician of the court, Don Cidelio, allowing his interest in the affair to get the better of his discretion, ventured to speak to the king about Urraca and her lover. Alfonso, indignant, was so displeased, that Don Cidelio was banished from the court at once, while he arranged forthwith a political marriage which was full of possibilities for Spain's future welfare. Alfonso, in his long reign, which had lasted for forty-three years, had given such a great impetus to the movement of reconquest directed against the Moors, that a strong and capable successor could have completed his work and hastened the final Christian victory by some four hundred years. Alfonso was far-seeing enough to know the possibilities ahead, and it is easy to understand and sympathize with his rage at the mere thought of the dapper, silken Candespina. So the rebellious Urraca, with her heart full of love for Count Gomez, was married, and just before her father's death in 1109, to King Alfonso I., called el batallador [the battler], and known as the Emperor of Aragon. This union of Castile, Leon, and Aragon would have promised much for the future, if the rulers of this united kingdom could have lived in peace and harmony together. They were so unlike in every way, however, that it was easy to predict trouble. The Battler was a youth of great military skill and great ambition, but he was not a courtier in any sense of the word and could not be compared in Urraca's eyes with her carpet knight, Don Gomez. So she was loath to change her mode of life, and he was in a state of constant irritation at her worldliness; and as a natural consequence of it all, after a year of turmoil and confusion, the two separated.

Content to lose his wife, Alfonso was quite unwilling to lose her broad domain, and consequently Aragonese garrisons were installed in some of the principal Castilian fortresses, while Urraca, a prisoner, was confined in the fortress of Castelar. This was too much for the Castilians to endure; so they at once took up arms in their queen's defence and, furthermore, demanded a divorce on the ground that Urraca and Alfonso were within the proscribed limits of consanguinity, as they were both descended from Sancho the Great, of Navarre. While there was much in the queen's character which the Castilian people could not admire, they had never approved of her marriage with the batallador, and were only too happy to have this excuse for severing the ties which bound the two countries together. Urraca was rescued from her captivity, and proceeded without delay to annoy her husband in every manner possible. Her honored father's prime minister was deposed and his estates confiscated, Don Gomez was given this high post and treated as an acknowledged favorite, and most shamelessly, and the whole country was shocked. But matters of self-defence were now of first importance to the Castilians, and so they were compelled to overlook her misconduct for the moment and prepare to withstand the irate Alfonso's threatened invasion. He invited Henry, Count of Portugal, the brother of Urraca's first husband,—and her son's guardian,—to aid him in this attack, and together they invaded Castile and inflicted a complete defeat upon Urraca's army at the battle of Sepulveda in the year 1111. The pope, Pascal II., sent a legate, who granted the divorce for which the Castilians had clamored; and Urraca, again a free woman, was now the centre of her own little court, where she soon gathered about her a small company of nobles who were vying with each other to obtain her royal favor. Two among them, Count Gomez of Candespina, and Pedro, a member of the great and powerful Lara family, hoped to marry her, but she coquetted with them all to such good purpose that she succeeded in keeping their good will by leaving them all in uncertainty as to her serious intentions.

At this moment a new element appeared in the settlement of public affairs. For the first time in the history of Spain, the privileged towns and cities, which had been granted special charters by the late Alfonso, Urraca's father, rose in their might and declared that Urraca should be deposed and that her youthful son, Alfonso Ramon, should be crowned in her stead. Seeing this turn of affairs, Henry of Portugal, the young Alfonso's guardian, decided that he might best serve his own interests by siding with the Castilians against the Battler, and he lost no time in making this transfer of his allegiance. Castile and Leon were still harried by the divorced husband, who now had no legal claim upon them, and there was a general consolidation of national interests for the national defence, while the conflicting interests with regard to the succession within the country were at the same time pressing for settlement and producing a state of strife and contention which was little short of civil war. In the midst of it all, Urraca continued to play the wanton, and soon so disgusted the Count of Portugal that he deserted her standard. This he did on the eve of the great battle of Espina, in the year 1112. Urraca still counted upon the devotion of her nobles, but Lara fled from the field, the prime favorite Candespina was killed, and the revengeful husband gained another victory. It was soon evident, however, that Alfonso of Aragon could never meet with complete success in his attempt to subdue Castile, and he wisely gave up the struggle after a few more years of desultory fighting. Urraca was now in a tight place, and in spite of all her arts and wiles she was unable to gather about her again a party strong enough to command respect. Candespina and Lara were no longer by her side, the other nobles had lost patience with her constant intriguing, and the popular party, backed by the towns, soon gained the ascendency, and Urraca was compelled to resign in favor of her son. From this moment she sinks into obscurity, and little more is known of her unhappy and profligate career besides the fact that she came to her end, unregretted, in 1126. According to the ancient Laws of Manu, "it is in the nature of the feminine sex to seek here below, to corrupt men," and Menander has said, sententiously, "where women are, are all kinds of mischief." While no one at the present time, unless he be some confirmed woman-hater, will be so ungallant as to attempt to maintain the truth of these sweeping statements, there must have been, at various times and places in the world, women of the kind indicated, as Queen Urraca of Castile, for example, or these things would never have been said.

The great-grandson of Urraca, Alfonso III. of Castile, received as his heritage the usual complement of strife and warfare which belonged to almost all of the little Spanish monarchies throughout the greater part of the twelfth century; but in the year 1170, arriving at his majority, he entered into a friendly treaty of peace with Aragon, and in that same fortunate year he married the Princess Eleanor, daughter of the English king, Henry II. Apropos of this marriage and its general effect upon the fortunes of Castile, Burke has written the following interesting sentences: "Up to the time of this happy union, the reign of Alfonso III. in Spain had been nothing but a succession of intrigues and civil wars of the accustomed character; but from the day of his marriage in 1170 to the day of his death in 1214, after a reign of no less than fifty-six years, he exercised the sovereign power without hindrance, if not entirely without opposition, within his dominions. If the domestic tranquillity of Castile during four-and-forty years may not be attributed exclusively to the influence of the English queen, yet the marriage bore fruits in a second generation, of which it would be difficult to exaggerate the importance; for it was the blood of the Plantagenets, that flowed in the veins of Berenguela, their daughter, one of the true heroines of Spain."

In this instance, as in the case of the good Constance of Burgundy, we see that Spain has been sobered and steadied by an infusion of foreign blood. Constance, it is true, was a fanatic who cared little for the national desires, and thought little of adapting herself to the national conditions of life, so long as she could further her own ends, which were those of the pope at Rome; and so stern and strict was her view of life, and so rigid was her discipline, that it was impossible for her to reconcile the lighter-minded Spaniards to her mode of thinking. For a short time, by drastic methods, she subdued to some extent the frivolous temper of her people; but she was so unlovable in her ways, and so unloved by the people at large, that the sum total of her influence upon Spanish life, apart from the somewhat questionable advantage which she gave to Rome as the result of her activity, amounted to very little. Even her own daughter, Urraca, in spite of the fact that she undoubtedly inherited more from her father than she did from her mother, was, beyond peradventure, rendered more wayward and more reckless by the mother's narrow view of life. The gracious Eleanor, on the other hand, was more liberal-minded, did everything in her power to get into touch with her subjects, and by her kindliness and strength of character was able to aid her husband in no mean degree in quieting civil discord and in consolidating the interests of the country.