Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, the Kadi of Seville, died in that city in 1042, after a reign of more than twenty years. Although never formally vested with the supreme authority, he had, since the dethronement of Yahya, practically exercised the functions of an absolute sovereign. His son, Abbad, whose designation of Motadhid is that by which he is best known to history, ascended the throne as the minister of the mat-maker Khalaf, who, still fraudulently representing the imperial dignity of the Ommeyades, continued to pass his days in indolence and luxury, while the family of the Beni-Abbad, through the serviceable agency of his imposture, was making rapid progress towards the acquisition of despotic power. Motadhid was a prince of excellent parts which had been improved by assiduous study; but his temperament was fierce and sensual; his ungovernable rage made him the terror of the city; and, in the indulgence of his vices and the prosecution of his ambition, he recognized neither the ties of kindred, the obligations of hospitality, the faith of treaties, nor the law of nations. He wrote verses far superior in quality to those usually produced by royal authors. Even the bacchanalian poems of his hours of dissipation were distinguished for the ingenuity of their conceits, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy of their sentiments. His patronage of learning has served to compensate, in a measure, for the crimes which have blackened his character in the eyes of posterity. The taste displayed in some of his compositions is not surpassed by that of any of the most elaborate productions of Arabian genius which have descended to our times. One of the most striking peculiarities of Motadhid was his taciturnity. He had no confidants. He never betrayed, by word or gesture, the thoughts that were passing through his mind. His designs were formed and carried into execution with a skill and a success which argued not only unusual powers of invention and combination, but a profound acquaintance with the weaknesses and the inconsistencies of human nature. In his personal habits, he was one of the most licentious and brutal princes of his century. A skeptic in religion, it was said that he believed in nothing but astrology and wine. His orgies were the reproach of the court and the horror of the capital. His fits of intoxication lasted for days, and in his capacity to consume large quantities of wine he far exceeded the most seasoned and strong-headed of his boon companions. “To drink at dawn is a religious dogma, and whoever does not believe in it is a Pagan,” was one of his favorite maxims. An ardent admirer of beauty, he caused the slave-markets of Europe and Asia to be searched for the most attractive specimens of female loveliness, and his harem contained eight hundred concubines, selected for their extraordinary charms. The implacable animosity of Motadhid was rarely assuaged by the completion