With ‘Alí's fall our sketch of the Orthodox Caliphate may fitly end. It was necessary to give some account of these years so vital in the history of Islam, even at the risk of wearying the reader, who will perhaps wish that less space were devoted to political affairs.

The Umayyads came into power, but, except in Syria and Egypt, they ruled solely by the sword. As descendants and representatives of the pagan aristocracy, which The Umayyad dynasty. strove with all its might to defeat Muḥammad, they were usurpers in the eyes of the Moslem community which they claimed to lead as his successors.362 We shall see, a little further on, how this opposition expressed itself in two great parties: the Shí‘ites or followers of ‘Alí, and the radical sect of the Khárijites, who have been mentioned above; and how it was gradually reinforced by the non-Arabian Moslems until it overwhelmed the Umayyad Government and set up the ‘Abbásids in their place. In estimating the character of the Umayyads one must bear in mind that the epitaph on the fallen Moslem tradition hostile to the Umayyads. dynasty was composed by their enemies, and can no more be considered historically truthful than the lurid picture which Tacitus has drawn of the Emperor Tiberius. Because they kept the revolutionary forces in check with ruthless severity, the Umayyads pass for bloodthirsty tyrants; whereas the best of them at any rate were strong and singularly capable rulers, bad Moslems and good men of the world, seldom cruel, plain livers if not high thinkers; who upon the whole stand as much above the ‘Abbásids in morality as below them in culture and intellect. Mu‘áwiya's clemency was proverbial, though he too could be stern on occasion. When members of the house of ‘Alí came to visit him at Damascus, which was now the capital of the Muḥammadan Empire, he gave them honourable lodging and entertainment and was anxious to do what they asked; but they (relates the historian Mu‘áwiya's clemency. approvingly) used to address him in the rudest terms and affront him in the vilest manner: sometimes he would answer them with a jest, and another time he would feign not to hear, and he always dismissed them with splendid presents and ample donations.363 "I do not employ my sword," he said, "when my whip suffices me, nor my whip when my tongue suffices me; and were there but a single hair (of friendship) between me and my subjects, I would not let it be snapped."364 After the business of the day he sought relaxation in books. His hours of study. "He consecrated a third part of every night to the history of the Arabs and their famous battles; the history of foreign peoples, their kings, and their government; the biographies of monarchs, including their wars and stratagems and methods of rule; and other matters connected with Ancient History."365

Mu‘áwiya's chief henchman was Ziyád, the son of Sumayya (Sumayya being the name of his mother), or, as he is generally Ziyád ibn Abíhi. called, Ziyád ibn Abíhi, i.e., 'Ziyád his father's son,' for none knew who was his sire, though rumour pointed to Abú Sufyán; in which case Ziyád would have been Mu‘áwiya's half-brother. Mu‘áwiya, instead of disavowing the scandalous imputation, acknowledged him as such, and made him governor of Baṣra, where he ruled the Eastern provinces with a rod of iron.

Mu‘áwiya was a crafty diplomatist—he has been well compared to Richelieu—whose profound knowledge of human nature enabled him to gain over men of moderate opinions in all the parties opposed to him. Events were soon to prove the hollowness of this outward reconciliation. Yazíd, who succeeded his father, was the son of Maysún, a Yazíd (680-683 a.d.). Bedouin woman whom Mu‘áwiya married before he rose to be Caliph. The luxury of Damascus had no charm for her wild spirit, and she gave utterance to her feeling of homesickness in melancholy verse:—

"A tent with rustling breezes coolDelights me more than palace high,And more the cloak of simple woolThan robes in which I learned to sigh. The crust I ate beside my tentWas more than this fine bread to me;The wind's voice where the hill-path wentWas more than tambourine can be. And more than purr of friendly catI love the watch-dog's bark to hear;And more than any lubbard fatI love a Bedouin cavalier."366

Mu‘áwiya, annoyed by the contemptuous allusion to himself, took the dame at her word. She returned to her own family, and Yazíd grew up as a Bedouin, with the instincts and tastes which belong to the Bedouins—love of pleasure, hatred of piety, and reckless disregard for the laws of religion. The beginning of his reign was marked by an event of which even now few Moslems can speak without a thrill of horror and dismay. The facts are briefly these: In the autumn of the year 680 Ḥusayn, the son of ‘Alí, claiming to be the rightful Caliph in virtue of his descent from the Prophet, quitted Mecca with his whole family and a number of devoted friends, and set out for Kúfa, where he expected the population, which was almost entirely Shí‘ite, to rally to his cause. It was a foolhardy adventure. Ḥusayn marches on Kúfa. The poet Farazdaq, who knew the fickle temper of his fellow-townsmen, told Ḥusayn that although their hearts were with him, their swords would be with the Umayyads; but his warning was given in vain. Meanwhile ‘Ubaydulláh b. Ziyád, the governor of Kúfa, having overawed the insurgents in the city and beheaded their leader, Muslim b. ‘Aqíl, who was a cousin of Ḥusayn, sent a force of cavalry with orders to bring the arch-rebel to a stand. Retreat was still open to him. But his followers cried out that the blood of Muslim must be avenged, and Ḥusayn could not hesitate. Turning northward along the Euphrates, he encamped at Karbalá with his little band, which, including the women and children, amounted to some two hundred souls. In this hopeless situation he offered terms which might have been accepted if Shamir b. Dhi ’l-Jawshan, a name for ever infamous and accursed, had not persuaded ‘Ubaydulláh to insist on unconditional surrender. The demand was refused, and Ḥusayn drew up his comrades—a handful of men and boys—for battle against the host which surrounded them. All the harrowing details invented by grief and passion can scarcely Massacre of Ḥusayn and his followers at Karbalá (10th Muḥarram, 61 a.h. = 10th October, 680 a.d.). heighten the tragedy of the closing scene. It would appear that the Umayyad officers themselves shrank from the odium of a general massacre, and hoped to take the Prophet's grandson alive. Shamir, however, had no such scruples. Chafing at delay, he urged his soldiers to the assault. The unequal struggle was soon over. Ḥusayn fell, pierced by an arrow, and his brave followers were cut down beside him to the last man.

Muḥammadan tradition, which with rare exceptions is uniformly hostile to the Umayyad dynasty, regards Ḥusayn Differing views of Muḥammadan and European writers. as a martyr and Yazíd as his murderer; while modern historians, for the most part, agree with Sir W. Muir, who points out that Ḥusayn, "having yielded himself to a treasonable, though impotent design upon the throne, was committing an offence that endangered society and demanded swift suppression." This was naturally the view of the party in power, and the reader must form his own conclusion as to how far it justifies the action which they took. For Moslems the question is decided by the relation of the Umayyads to Islam. Violators of its laws and spurners of its The Umayyads judged by Islam. ideals, they could never be anything but tyrants; and being tyrants, they had no right to slay believers who rose in arms against their usurped authority. The so-called verdict of history, when we come to examine it, is seen to be the verdict of religion, the judgment of theocratic Islam on Arabian Imperialism. On this ground the Umayyads are justly condemned, but it is well to remember that in Moslem eyes the distinction between Character of Yazíd. Church and State does not exist. Yazíd was a bad Churchman: therefore he was a wicked tyrant; the one thing involves the other. From our unprejudiced standpoint, he was an amiable prince who inherited his mother's poetic talent, and infinitely preferred wine, music, and sport to the drudgery of public affairs. The Syrian Arabs, who recognised the Umayyads as legitimate, thought highly of him: "Jucundissimus," says a Christian writer, "et cunctis nationibus regni ejus subditis vir gratissime habitus, qui nullam unquam, ut omnibus moris est, sibi regalis fastigii causa gloriam appetivit, sed communis cum omnibus civiliter vixit."367 He deplored the fate of the women and children of Ḥusayn's family, treated them with every mark of respect, and sent them to Medína, where their account of the tragedy added fresh fuel to the hatred and indignation with which its authors were generally regarded.