Persia, Lydia, northern Africa, Spain, had successively fallen under the devouring zeal of the fanatics of the desert. Hot and arid and consuming as the sun o’er yellow sands was the inspiration of the Prophet fire-breathing thro’ the Koran. “The sword,” says Mahomet, “is the key of heaven. A drop of blood shed in the cause of God is of more avail than two months of fasting and prayer; whoso falls in battle, all his sins are forgiven; at the day of judgment his wounds shall be as resplendent as vermillion and odoriferous as musk.” Hearts thus athirsting aflame had as their dream-goal, their vermillion glory--the conquest and subjugation of the city of the Cæsars, the city of the Church, Rome, Immortal Rome. From the Bosphorus to the Gibraltar glowed the victor Crescent with extremities burning into Europe. Unsuccessful on the Bosphorus but successful on the Gibraltar, Spain was soon enveloped in its fanatic fire and its flame-tongues darted over the Pyrenees. The Saracens of Spain were commanded by Abderame, favorite of the caliph Hashen, victor of many fields, idol of the army, and devout believer in the promises of the Prophet. Abderame was proud of his battle scars, not yet indeed resplendent as vermillion and odoriferous as musk, but potentially so and cherished accordingly. He would yet slay “many cut-throat dogs of misbelievers” and so gain more vermillion. One is here tempted to say, in the words of Virgil describing the sacrifice of Iphigenia, “Learn thou then To what damned deeds religion urges men.” Too bad that the word “religion” must needs do service to express the extravagances of mythology, the ravings of fanaticism, and the teachings of the gentle Christ. Eudes, duke of Aquitaine, first opposed the Moslems as they advanced beyond the Pyrenees. He was at first successful but later suffered a signal defeat at Toulouse, “in so much so”, says an old chronicler, “that only God could count the number of Christians slain.” Eudes himself escaped and hastening northward sought the aid of Charles, duke of Austrasia, mayor of the palace, and soon to be known as Charles Martel (Charles the Hammer.) On came the conquering Saracen hosts, grown insolent by victory, deeming themselves invincible, and proudly confident in the destiny that should lead them to Rome. Asia and Africa were in arms against Europe; the old against the new; maturity against lusty youth; and they met steel to steel on the plains of Tours. “He either fears his fate too much Or his deserts are small; Who dares not put it to the touch And gain or lose it all.” Tours towers in solemn awe in the vague _What might have been_. Was it wise to have risked Christendom on the issue of one battle? The result says Yes; but--