An Anthology of Arabic Literature: From the Classical to the Modern 9781474410809

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An Anthology of Arabic Literature

An Anthology of Arabic Literature From the Classical to the Modern Selected and translated by Tarif Khalidi

EDINBURGH University Press

Edinburgh University Press is one of the leading university presses in the UK. We publish academic books and journals in our selected subject areas across the humanities and social sciences, combining cutting-edge scholarship with high editorial and production values to produce academic works of lasting importance. For more information visit our website: www.edinburghuniversitypress.com © editorial matter and organisation Tarif Khalidi, 2016 Previously published material reproduced by permission of the copyright holder Edinburgh University Press Ltd The Tun – Holyrood Road 12 (2f) Jackson’s Entry Edinburgh EH8 8PJ Typeset in 10/12pt Goudy Oldstyle by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire, and printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group UK (Ltd), Croydon CR0 4YY A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978 1 4744 1078 6 (hardback) ISBN 978 1 4744 1079 3 (paperback) ISBN 978 1 4744 1080 9 (webready PDF) ISBN 978 1 4744 1081 6 (epub) The right of Tarif Khalidi to be identified as Editor of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988, and the Copyright and Related Rights Regulations 2003 (SI No. 2498). Published with the support of the Edinburgh University Scholarly Publishing Initiatives Fund.

Contents

Acknowledgementsxv Introductionxvi PART I  PRE-MODERN TEXTS SECTION I  POETRY Mock-heroic 1. The poet and the wolf  Al-Buhturi (d. 897)

3

2. A love and wine song Tamim ibn al-Muʿizz al-Fatimi (d. 984)

4

3. Elegy for a drinking companion  ʿAbdullah ibn al-Muʿtazz (d. 908)

5

Bedouin chivalry 4. A Bedouin and his guest Al-Hutayʾah (d. c. 661)

7

Frivolous love 5. A girl called Hind ʿUmar ibn Abi Rabiʿa (d. 711)

9

Melancholy 6. A rain cloud Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri (d. 1057)

10

Heretical verse 7. Faith and unbelief Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri

10

vi  c o n t e n t s Elegies I 8. A poetess mourns her brother Al-Fariʿah (d. c. 800)

11

9. Elegy for the celebrated vizier Nizam al-Mulk Muqatil ibn ʿAtiyya (d. c. 1111)

11

10. Elegy for a friend Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri

11

Humour 11. Grey hairs Abu ʿAli al-Hasan ibn ʿAbdullah (d. c. 1001)

12

Poets and their daughters 12. A poet to his daughter Anonymous

13

13. A dying poet to his daughter Abu Firas al-Hamdani (d. 968) Elegies II 14. Elegy for the fall of al-Andalus (Muslim Spain) Abuʾl Baqaʾ al-Rundi (d. 1285) 15. Elegy for the vizier Ibn Baqiyya, killed then crucified in 978 Abuʾl Hasan al-Anbari (d. 10th century) Elegies III: humorous 16. Elegy for a tomcat Abu Bakr ibn al-ʿAllaf (d. 930) 17. Elegy for an extracted molar tooth Al-Babi (d. 1681)

13

14 15

16 17

Exile 18. A poet dying in exile Ibn Zurayq al-Baghdadi (d. 1029)

18

Imagery 19. A woman bathing Abu Nuwas (d. 814)

19

Poetic fragments by various poets 20. On nature and natural objects (i) The crescent moon (ii) The new moon in daytime (iii) The full moon behind clouds (iv) The moon shining upon water (v) The moon amid stars

20

conte nts   vii (vi) The stars (vii) The Pleiades (viii) Gemini (ix) Mars (x) Vega (xi) Vega, Altair and Pisces (xii) Ursa Major (xiii) Pitch-black night (xiv) Dawn (xv) A rainbow (xvi) Midday heat (xvii) Extreme cold (xviii) A day both bright and cloudy (xix) Shadows cast by leaves (xx) The rose and the daffodil (xxi) A red anemone (xxii) Wallflowers (xxiii) The Judas tree 21. On the joys and agonies of love  Seduction 22. A poet defends his seduction of a young and innocent girl Bashshar ibn Burd (d. 784)

25 28

SECTION II  PROSE Jahiz 23. On authors and authorship

29

24. Advice to public speakers I

29

25. Advice to public speakers II

30

26. The power of suggestion

30

Animal fables 27. The lion, the wolf, the raven, the jackal and the camel Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (d. 756)

31

28. The flea and the mosquito Bahaʾ al-Din al-ʿAmili (d. 1621)

32

Snappy answers 29. Al-Ajwiba al-muskita34 Heretics 30. On Ibn al-Shalmaghani, his execution and a brief mention of his heretical views 36 Abuʾl Fida (d. 1331)

viii  c o n t e n ts 31. On Abu Talib al-Makki, the famous mystic Abuʾl Fida

36

32. Rival Qurʾans36 Abuʾl Husayn al-Haruni al-Zaydi (d. 1030) 33. Last will and testament Imam al-Haramayn al-Juwayni (d. 1085) Psychology 34. The psychology of old age Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 1209)

37

38

35. Education of the young Ghazali (d. 1111)

39

36. Firasa (physiognomy) Fakhr al-Din al-Razi

40

Foreign lands 37. England Ibn Saʿid al-Maghribi (d. 1286)

43

38. The land of the Franks Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini (d. 1283)

43

39. Ireland Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini

44

40. A medieval Lilliput Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini

44

41. Emperor Frederick II (d. 1250) tricks his rivals Ibn Wasil (d. 1298)

45

42. Propaganda during the Third Crusade, 1190 Abu Shama (d. 1268)

46

43. A Byzantine emperor’s finery Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr (d. late 11th century)

46

44. Diplomacy: embassy of Queen Bertha, daughter of Lothar Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr

47

Literary anecdotes 45. A lesson in generosity Ibn Khallikan (d. 1282)

49

46. A brilliant judge Ibn ʿAsakir (d. 1175), al-Safadi (d. 1363)

50

47. Poetic justice: revenge Ghars al-Niʿmah al-Sabi (d. 1087)

51

conte nts   ix 48. A clown at a caliph’s court Al-Sharishi (d. 1222)

52

49. A classic children’s story: Tanburi’s shoe Anonymous

53

50. Three real-life stories on the theme of ‘Ease following hardship’ Ahmad ibn Yusuf ibn al-Daya (d. c. 942)

55

51. Pre-Islamic Arabian lore

59

52. What kings must avoid Ibn al-Tiqtaqa (d. after 1302)

60

Argument 53. Theology as defined by a philosopher Farabi (d. 950)

61

54. On marvels and oddities of nature Masʿudi (d. 956)

62

55. Can a woman be a prophet? Ibn Hazm (d. 1064)

63

56. Paradise is a bore Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi (d. c. 1010)

64

57. What is laughter? Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi

65

58. A division of existents Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi

65

59. A humorous exchange on the subject of miserliness Ibn Qutayba (d. 889)

65

60. An argument over date wine Al-Zajjaji (d. 951)

66

61. The symptoms of love Ibn Hazm

67

Sexuality 62. Sexual manners Ghazali

69

Reflections on history 63. Civilisations and religious beliefs Jahiz

70

64. Were the ancients taller and longer lived than us? Masʿudi

72

x  c o n t e n ts 65. Dismissing a vizier Ibn al-Athir (d. 1232)

72

66. Biographers Al-Subki (d. 1370)

73

67. Dynastic transitions Ibn al-Athir

73

68. The Mongol invasions Ibn al-Athir

74

69. The caliph ʿUthman and the First Civil War in Islamic history Ibn Khaldun (d. 1406)

75

70. Arab history comes full circle Ibn Khaldun

76

71. Causes of the decline of states Turtushi (d. 1126)

77

72. Military feudalism in Andalusia Turtushi

77

73. Religions and policies of ancient nations Turtushi

78

74. Are the conquests of Alexander the Great credible as reported? Yaqut (d. 1229)

78

History: direct witnesses 75. The death of Saladin, 1193 Abu Shama

80

76. Ibn Khaldun and Tamerlane: the great world historian meets the great world conqueror, 1401 Ibn Khaldun

81

Society 77. Arts and crafts in cities Ikhwan al-Safaʾ (c. 10th–11th century)

84

Sufism (Islamic mysticism) 78. Sufi sayings and stories Abu ʿAbd al-Rahman al-Sulami (d. 1021)

86

79. Licit and illicit as colours: a Sufi view Abu Talib al-Makki (d. 996)

88

80. Sufi solitude Ghazali

88

81. How Satan enters the human heart Ghazali

89

conte nts   xi Proverbs and aphorisms 82. Proverbs popular among the common people of Baghdad in the tenth century Al-Abi (d. 1030)

91

Literary judgements 83. The celebrated poet al-Farazdaq (d. 728) to a man who showed him his inferior verse93 Abu Zayd al-Qurashi (d. early 10th century) 84. The famous critic al-Asmaʿi (d. 828) on poetry Al-Marzubani (d. 994)

93

85. On verse and prose Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi

93

86. The introduction to a famous literary anthology Ibn Qutayba (d. 889)

94

87. The famous poet Abu Tamman on his verse Muhammad ibn Yahya al-Suli (d. 946)

94

88. When can a simile be considered truly remarkable? ʿAbd al-Qahir al-Jurjani (d. 1078)

95

Reflections on the state 89. The democratic city-state Farabi 90. Inaugural address by the Umayyad caliph Yazid III, a ‘democratic’ caliph Ibn Hamdun (d. 1166) Polemic 91. Christian Arabic polemics against Islam ʿAbd al-Masih al-Kindi (fl. early 10th century) 92. Debates with Jews and Christians Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350) Jesus 93.

Passages on Jesus in the Qurʾan Commentary (Tafsir) of Tabari (i) Jesus’ birth (ii) Jesus speaks in his cradle (iii) The livelihood of Jesus (iv) The crucifixion of Jesus (v) The death and ascension of Jesus

96 97

98 99

101

Wisdom literature 94. A famous scholar describes how he spends his days Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr (d. 1070)

104

95. Sayings of the Prophet Muhammad

104

xii  c o n t e nts 96. Sayings of ʿAli ibn Abi Talib

105

97. Sundry wisdom sayings

106

PART II  MODERN TEXTS SECTION I  POETRY Political protest 98. Three popular political songs Ahmad Fuʾad Najm (d. 2013) (i) The mawwal of ful and meat (ii) D’Estaing (iii) Mickey 99. Two poems Muhammad al-Maghut (d. 2006) (i) A frightened postman (ii) Fear

111

113

Heretics 100. A poet’s heretical credo Maʿruf al-Rusafi (d. 1945)

116

Jesus 101. Christ after the Crucifixion Badr Shakir al-Sayyab (d. 1964)

117

Elegies 102. Elegy for a woman (Scenes from a Baghdad alley) Nazik al-Malaʾika (d. 2007)

120

103. It’s time this heart withdrew Ahlam Mistghanmi (b. 1953)

120

104. To devotees of bullfighting Ahlam Mistghanmi

122

SECTION II  PROSE Popular historiography 105. A Damascene barber records the life around him Al-Budayri al-Hallaq (d. after 1762)

123

Short stories 106. A child’s secret Fuʾad al-Tikirli (d. 2008)

125

conte nts   xiii 107. Three short stories Zakariyya Tamir (b. 1931) (i) ‘Good morning’ (ii) Burglars (iii) The eternal governor Feminism 108. A lecture given in Cairo in 1914 May Ziadeh (d. 1941) 109. Two autobiographical accounts ʿAnbara Salam al-Khalidi (d. 1986) (i) A girl dons the veil in Beirut in 1907 (ii) Twenty years later: the unveiling Personal experience 110. An Egyptian Muslim cleric defrocks (c. 1927) Ahmad Amin (d. 1954) 111. An encounter with George Bernard Shaw (c. 1910) Salama Musa (d. 1958)

128

131 132

134 135

Humour 112. The fat person Saʿid Taqyiddin (d. 1960)

136

Jesus 113. Christ: a modern Muslim view ʿAbbas Mahmud al-ʿAqqad (d. 1964)

138

Personal experiences of war 114. Scenes from the First World War (Palestine) Khalil al-Sakakini (d. 1953)

139

115. Scenes from the First World War (Lebanon) (i) ʿAnbara Salam al-Khalidi (ii) ʿAjjaj Nuwayhid (iii) Yusuf al-Hakim

139

116. The Versailles Peace Conference (1919): an Arab perspective Rustum Haidar (d. 1940)

140

117. Two encounters with Anatole France (1844–1924) Rustum Haidar

141

Heretics 118. Fanaticism Maʿruf al-Rusafi

143

xiv  c o n t e n ts Foreign lands 119. England in the 1840s Ahmad Faris al-Shidyaq (d. 1887) (i) A village in Cambridgeshire (ii) English social classes (iii) Cambridge and Oxford (iv) Praiseworthy English customs (v) English marriage customs (vi) English children’s upbringing (vii) English table manners (viii) English and French prostitutes Political writings: editorials 120. Who owns the ‘weapon’ of democracy? Joseph Samaha (d. 2010)

144

150

121. Hatred of America Joseph Samaha

151

122. Modern Syria’s literary and national renaissance Antun Saadeh (d. 1949)

153

123. A Marxist analysis of the term ‘civilisation’ Mahdi ʿAmil (d. 1987)

154

Muslim law 124. A modern Muslim jurist on punishments in Muslim sacred law ʿAbdullah al-ʿAlayli (d. 1996)

156

Aphorisms for our times 125. Aphorisms for our times Ibrahim al-Kuni (b. 1948)

158

Sources160 Index of authors

165

Acknowledgements

Casting my net of memories wide, I ought first to acknowledge a couple of ancient debts. The first is to my late brother Usama, who introduced me at a young age to the beauties of classical Arabic poetry and its many voices and tropes. His favourites, I recall, were Al-Hutayʾa, alBuhturi, Abu Firas and of course al-Mutanabbi, who is everyone’s favourite. The second is to my sister Randa, who performed the same function for English poetry, especially with respect to Donne and Wordsworth. Thereafter, I have repeatedly tried my hand, and with abysmal failure, at composing poetry in the two languages. Yet that melancholy experience, it seems to me, remains indispensable to the craft of translating poetry. Half a century of teaching and research in the field of classical Arabic culture at two universities, the American University of Beirut and Cambridge, greatly expanded my exposure to Arabic poetry and prose. Courses taught at both universities and based on original texts gave me certain notions as to what younger generations found enjoyable and close to their concerns, and some of the material in this anthology has already been, as it were, class tested. I am much indebted to several generations of students, and if any of them are reading these words they are to consider my thanks as addressed to them personally. In Edinburgh, my first indebtedness is to Professor Carole Hillenbrand, who was kind enough to embrace this anthology and recommend it to Edinburgh University Press. At EUP, my thanks to Nicola Ramsey, Ellie Bush, Eddie Clark and Rebecca Mackenzie, for their infinite patience, skill and courtesy. Jonathan Wadman scrutinised the text with immense care, purging it of its numerous infelicities. Where the selections from modern Arabic literature are concerned, I benefited greatly from the advice, suggestions and corrections of Maysun Succarieh, Basim Musallam and Aliya Khalidi. And Magda, as with many previous books, firmly but lovingly made the appearance of this work possible. TK

Introduction

An anthology such as this is a miscellany of personal choice of Arabic verse and prose, ancient and modern, encountered across some sixty years of reading in Arabic literature. It is a type of work once called a florilegium, a bouquet of choice literary extracts, and this anthology, like similar bouquets, makes no claim to typicality or wide coverage but is simply, to quote Borges, ‘a library of preferences’. It came about when certain passages produced in me what T. S. Eliot called the ‘shudder’, a sense of shock and surprise. Only the original language can of course engender this shudder but a translation that manages to convey something of the shock of the original is fortunate indeed. My hope is that my readers will from time to time share that experience. Although the principal aim of this anthology is entertainment, and assumes no prior knowledge of Arabic literature on the reader’s part, something ought yet to be said about the language itself and its extensive cultural horizons. For about a millennium, Arabic was the lingua franca of a world civilisation stretching from Spain to the frontiers of China, and acted much like the Latin of medieval Europe. Though modern westerners associate it with Islam and Muslims, Arabic was the primary language of scholarship used also by Jews and Christians, together with the many ethnic groups who lived within the confines of that global civilisation. One distinguishing mark of Islamic cities was their cosmopolitan character, a fact often commented upon by European travellers to the east, both medieval and modern. It was largely in these globalised cities where literature flourished. Arabic literature in the pre-modern period therefore speaks a universal language because it echoes the many diverse cultures embraced by that civilisation. Today, the Arab world is in the main a source of dramatic news and graphic images for the international media, but Arabic literature is far less familiar to western audiences. Admittedly, today’s reader is better served than ever before where translations from Arabic literature, both pre-modern and modern, are concerned. There now exist several translation series producing scores of reputable translations each year and even a few magazines devoted to Arabic literature in translation. Many Arabic novels appear in translation each year, though not much poetry. The internet is also a major source of translations, mostly from religious texts, but these are not consistently trustworthy or elegant. There is thus, I believe, space for an anthology which, in a relatively short span, attempts to reflect the great diversity of Arabic literature across time, theme and genre, without burdening the reader with extensive notes and commentaries, an anthology that brings the

introduction   xvii Anglophone reader face to face with that literature with minimum interference from its collector. Most of the texts in this anthology have not previously been translated into English. This is because the anthology seeks to reflect, in its pre-modern section, not just the literary ‘canon’, a lot of which already exists in translation, but also the byways of that literature, most of which remain untranslated. By its byways I mean such topics as the occult, poetic fragments, heresy, psychological reflections, literary theory, sexual etiquette, humanity and nature, geographical observations and reflections on world history. In its modern section, the anthology highlights such themes as travel writing, feminism, political dissent, newspaper editorials, personal memoirs and so forth. The anthology as a literary genre has had a long and distinguished history in Arabic literature. It acted in the beginning as the most typical illustration of the theory of adab, whose basic principle was the broad education of a gentleman. The adib, or possessor of adab, was a person who was familiar with all the religious and ‘secular’ sciences of his day and combined this broadly based knowledge with the moral character necessary to communicate that knowledge, that is the humility, generosity of spirit and integrity of a true scholar. Adab was also an avenue to advancement, not just in the scholarly sphere but in government chancelleries as well, and often in both. The anthology was accordingly regarded as an accessible way in which one could acquire that wide curriculum of knowledge and the moral character that goes with it. Almost all anthologies carried wonderfully flowery titles evoking such images as gardens, necklaces or pearls. In more modern times, though anthologies remain very popular, the word adab itself has lost its earlier meaning of a broadly based education, and has come to mean literature in the strict sense, though it still preserves the sense of refinement and good manners. The pre-modern anthologies – those composed between, say, the ninth and sixteenth centuries ad – were multi-volume works, and always divided under general themes. The earliest anthologies had a few wide-ranging themes such as ‘Government’, ‘War’, ‘Leadership’, ‘Moral and Immoral Characteristics’, ‘Knowledge and Eloquence’, ‘The Ascetic Life’, ‘Companionship’, ‘Fulfilment of Desires’, ‘Food’, and ‘Women’. Later anthologies tended to have a more detailed table of contents, perhaps to expedite the search for particular items. But all pre-modern anthologies were heavily interspersed with poetry as if to bestow its aesthetic and authenticating coverage upon prose (poetry in many pre-modern cultures was thought to be more ‘reliable’ and ‘trustworthy’ than prose because it was less amenable to tampering), the verses being typically a few lines in length. The anthologies were somewhat rambling and did not adhere strictly to the general theme as the anthologist tied his extracts together and occasionally wandered away from the main subject. Finally, they included short rather than long extracts, whether these were sayings, entertaining anecdotes, moral ­disquisitions or grammatical and lexical annotations. It is rare to find in pre-modern ­anthologies an extract, in verse or prose, that extends more than a few lines in length. Modern Arabic anthologies on the other hand are, like many anthologies of our modern world, built on discrete pieces of prose and/or verse of considerable length. They lack the guidance of the pre-modern anthologist who would intervene in order weave his extracts together. The present anthology is nearer in form and spirit to the pre-modern than to the modern anthology. Thus the extracts here are in their great majority short, and the reason for this is the same as the one given by those ancient anthologists: to avoid boring the reader. The principle that ‘less is more’, that is to say pithiness and concision, remained throughout

xviii  i n t r o d u ction the pre-modern period a common feature of Arabic literary theory. Furthermore, and also like ancient anthologies, this one is not arranged in strict chronological succession of the chosen texts since its aim is not to demonstrate evolution but to allow the reader to pick it up at any point and read it, hopefully with pleasure. Then again, my definition of literature adheres more closely to classical adab than to literature in the strict sense. This means that the anthology includes, in addition to literary texts properly so called, extracts from philosophers, theologians and scientists since even the most difficult among them never aspired to anything less than a good style. Any adib worth his salt would be expected to have some acquaintance with the rational sciences, while the philosophers, theologians and scientists would strive to express themselves as elegantly as they could, occasionally peppering their texts with verse or proverbial wisdom in order to reach a wide audience. But one major difference with ancient anthologies is that I have not attempted to intervene or to tie together these extracts, preferring them to speak for themselves with minimum annotation from the anthologist. The beginnings of modern Arabic literature can conveniently be dated to the nineteenth century. In the course of that century, deep structural changes came over Arab societies which might best be summarised as follows. The traditional scholars of the pre-modern period, for reasons that need not occupy us here, were giving way steadily to a new class of scholars less attached to the earlier religious curriculum and more attuned to western literary fashions and genres. The conventional ʿulamaʾ, or religious scholars, were being edged out of the republic of letters by the new professionals: the journalists, doctors, lawyers, academics, civil servants, novelists and essayists of that age. Furthermore, and in that century, Arabic lost much of its earlier universality when separate Muslim nations discovered or rediscovered their literary traditions and breathed new life into their old languages. A canon for modern Arabic literature is still in the process of formation but there can be little doubt that the carriers of that literature are a palpably new breed of scholar, the product of modern societies. In this anthology, I wanted the extracts from modern Arabic literature to reflect, again without pretence to typicality, some of the new genres that have emerged in the last century and a half, such as the short story, the political editorial and the songs and poetry of political dissent. One last thought. For a century or more, western Arabists have produced anthologies of Arabic literature in English translation that have contributed in no small measure to popularising that literature to a general western readership. So far as I know, they have not been thoroughly studied as a literary genre; a study of them, of their strategies of selection and translation, would be an interesting contribution to scholarship. As I gathered and translated my extracts, two recent anthologies in particular loomed above the rest: Robert Irwin’s Penguin Anthology of Classical Arabic Literature (2006) and Geert Jan van Gelder’s Classical Arabic Literature: A Library of Arabic Literature Anthology (2013). Both have valuable introductions more thoroughgoing than mine. Yet if I want this work to stand alongside these two, I should try to say something about them and how my anthology differs from theirs. Both these anthologies have a more limited coverage than mine, confining themselves to the premodern period. Both weave their extracts together with learned commentaries which have great value to specialists and advanced students but might in some cases be off-putting to the proverbial ‘general reader’. Both include extracts far longer than mine, which may, again, be a little challenging to that reader. Irwin’s anthology is made up of extracts already translated by several hands and is thus uneven in style and diction. Van Gelder’s anthology consists of his own translations, formidably scholarly and extensively annotated and glossed, though one

introduction   xix might raise some objections to the poetic quality of some of his renderings – as indeed one might also to my own. Having said this, however, these two volumes will remain useful and eminently worthy of consultation for many years to come and may be warmly recommended to readers of this anthology. As regards my own translations, poetry of course poses the greatest challenge. In translating Arabic poetry I did all I could to preserve the idioms, metaphors and other figures of speech in their original literal form, wishing to emphasise their distinctness, indeed their alienness. And yet, how near some of it is in spirit to other world literatures must be left to the judgement of its readers. Ohe iam satis est, ohe libelle. Tarif Khalidi American University of Beirut September 2015

section i

Poetry

M o ck- hero ic The mock-heroic was a fairly common genre, probably a reaction to the epic genre of earlier times. 1. The poet and the wolf Al-Buhturi (d. 897) was a celebrated court poet of the Abbasid dynasty (750–1258), admired for his simple diction and poetic inventiveness. What a night! Dawn at its tail-end Like an inch of gleaming steel, When a sword is drawn from its sheath. I wrapped myself in its gloom, While wolves were still in slumber, My eyes like a night thief’s, a stranger to sleep, Stirring up the grouse where they squatted, The fox and the viper my only companions. Suddenly, a grey wolf! Eye-catching, forepart and ribs upturned, Limbs at his sides lanky, spindly, Dragging behind him a rope-like tail, His spine crooked, bent like a bow. Creased by hunger, his resolve had hardened: Nothing but bones, spirit and hide. He crunched his fangs, in whose rows lurked death, Like the crunching of one shivering from the cold, Teeth chattering.

4  p a r t i , s ection i He rose to view. As famished was I as he, In a wilderness that never knew a life of ease. There, both of us were wolves, Each scheming against his mate: My luck against his. He growled then sat on his haunches; My war chant enraged him; He charged, like lightning followed by thunder. I let fly an arrow that missed its mark, Its feathers, you would imagine, like the tail of a shooting star, In a night of blackest darkness. But he merely grew in daring and resolution, And I knew for sure he was in earnest. So I followed with another, burying the arrowhead Where heart, terror and malice are lodged. He collapsed, for I had led him to the fountain of death, Thirsty still. If only that fountain had been sweet! I rose, gathered some pebbles and roasted him thereat, The fire beneath him of glowing embers. Mean was the meal I made of him, And I left him, covered in dust, forlorn. 2. A love and wine song Tamim ibn al-Muʿizz al-Fatimi (d. 984) was a royal prince of the Fatimid dynasty (969– 1171) of Egypt and Syria, often tormented by the contrast between his family’s religious status and his own pleasure-loving lifestyle. An attempt is made here to preserve the original rhyme scheme. Relish the pleasures of life, relish your youth! Spring has come forth from its booth. Your love, your very age, Is youth upon youth upon youth. Bring forth the wine in the palm of a server, Who passes the wine, pure and chill. He passes the wine, with wet lips or hand: Swill upon swill upon swill. As if his hands mirror his cheeks, With a fire, a warming glare.

4  p a r t i , s ection i He rose to view. As famished was I as he, In a wilderness that never knew a life of ease. There, both of us were wolves, Each scheming against his mate: My luck against his. He growled then sat on his haunches; My war chant enraged him; He charged, like lightning followed by thunder. I let fly an arrow that missed its mark, Its feathers, you would imagine, like the tail of a shooting star, In a night of blackest darkness. But he merely grew in daring and resolution, And I knew for sure he was in earnest. So I followed with another, burying the arrowhead Where heart, terror and malice are lodged. He collapsed, for I had led him to the fountain of death, Thirsty still. If only that fountain had been sweet! I rose, gathered some pebbles and roasted him thereat, The fire beneath him of glowing embers. Mean was the meal I made of him, And I left him, covered in dust, forlorn. 2. A love and wine song Tamim ibn al-Muʿizz al-Fatimi (d. 984) was a royal prince of the Fatimid dynasty (969– 1171) of Egypt and Syria, often tormented by the contrast between his family’s religious status and his own pleasure-loving lifestyle. An attempt is made here to preserve the original rhyme scheme. Relish the pleasures of life, relish your youth! Spring has come forth from its booth. Your love, your very age, Is youth upon youth upon youth. Bring forth the wine in the palm of a server, Who passes the wine, pure and chill. He passes the wine, with wet lips or hand: Swill upon swill upon swill. As if his hands mirror his cheeks, With a fire, a warming glare.

mock- he roic   5 His hands, his cheeks, my heart: Flare upon flare upon flare. When scolders rebuke him, And heap on me their words of shame, Their censure and their blame: Inane, inane, inane. I swear: the world is a bride, Whose veil was lifted by dew. Its violet, narcissus and rose: Hue upon hue upon hue. From blood of pitcher let us shed the wine, Such rain must not move out. My pitcher, my glass, and morning mists: Cloud upon cloud upon cloud. Drink to the full! Sober means serious, And the New Year deserves your toast and brew. Your way, your drinking and singing girls: So true, so true, so true. 3. Elegy for a drinking companion ʿAbdullah ibn al-Muʿtazz (d. 908) was an Abbasid royal poet and literary critic, and leader of the ‘modernist’ school of poets who insisted, against the backward-looking critics, that good poetry could be found in any age. The elegy here is a singular mix of sorrow and sarcasm, increasing its pathos, and displays the poet’s much-admired figural style. The dead companion, Abuʾl Tayyib, was a Shiʿite and so inimical to the Abbasids. O Abuʾl Tayyib, who will grace our gatherings now? Who will quaff the wine? A cup in the evening, another at dawn? Who will drink from wineskins whose upturned spouts Are like black men fallen in battle, their loin-cloths stripped away? Who will frequent the wine keeper’s tavern, to be given cups to drink, Upon which you’d fall prostrate, hands and neck fluttering? And how many a dawn you ushered in, muezzin-like, with a snort, Sending sleep flying from every terrified neighbour! And how many a handclap for a song you heard, Like a bird flapping its wings when driven from its longed-for nest! And how many a morning, when prayer time came, You pretended to ignore, reeling in drunken stupor! How many a slave girl you went to sleep atop of, Swimming over her as if riding the sea’s high waves! How many a comely cup bearer, unwilling, you nailed down To insert the L of your crotch in the O of his back!

mock- he roic   5 His hands, his cheeks, my heart: Flare upon flare upon flare. When scolders rebuke him, And heap on me their words of shame, Their censure and their blame: Inane, inane, inane. I swear: the world is a bride, Whose veil was lifted by dew. Its violet, narcissus and rose: Hue upon hue upon hue. From blood of pitcher let us shed the wine, Such rain must not move out. My pitcher, my glass, and morning mists: Cloud upon cloud upon cloud. Drink to the full! Sober means serious, And the New Year deserves your toast and brew. Your way, your drinking and singing girls: So true, so true, so true. 3. Elegy for a drinking companion ʿAbdullah ibn al-Muʿtazz (d. 908) was an Abbasid royal poet and literary critic, and leader of the ‘modernist’ school of poets who insisted, against the backward-looking critics, that good poetry could be found in any age. The elegy here is a singular mix of sorrow and sarcasm, increasing its pathos, and displays the poet’s much-admired figural style. The dead companion, Abuʾl Tayyib, was a Shiʿite and so inimical to the Abbasids. O Abuʾl Tayyib, who will grace our gatherings now? Who will quaff the wine? A cup in the evening, another at dawn? Who will drink from wineskins whose upturned spouts Are like black men fallen in battle, their loin-cloths stripped away? Who will frequent the wine keeper’s tavern, to be given cups to drink, Upon which you’d fall prostrate, hands and neck fluttering? And how many a dawn you ushered in, muezzin-like, with a snort, Sending sleep flying from every terrified neighbour! And how many a handclap for a song you heard, Like a bird flapping its wings when driven from its longed-for nest! And how many a morning, when prayer time came, You pretended to ignore, reeling in drunken stupor! How many a slave girl you went to sleep atop of, Swimming over her as if riding the sea’s high waves! How many a comely cup bearer, unwilling, you nailed down To insert the L of your crotch in the O of his back!

6  p a r t i , s ection i And how many a counsellor would say to you ‘Repent!’ But you disobeyed him, turning upon him with curses and rebukes. Although you kept silent while others disputed, Yet your looks said it all: A curse upon the mother of Abu Bakr!1 Remember how you swindled money from the Rawafid,2 claiming You were the Bab,3 plenipotentiary? And how, if they held back payment in some year of hardship, You would forsake your friends, making false excuses and staying away? The cup bearer would then become idle, His vessels dry of wine. But if later the Rawafid paid up in full You looked more pleased with yourself than flies upon dung. You would mount an ill-bred horse, upright, Like a monkey on a runaway sheep! You would allude to some arcane knowledge, concealed in your heart, To be kept hidden from commoners, in secret or in open. But were someone to claim he was a scholar, In some field of history, grammar or poetry, you would mock him Laughing and marvelling, As if you did not know that you do not know! And if the cup bearer errs, pouring you three goblets at once, What a rebuke he will hear! But were a bat to fly past, you would become interested, And lecture us on what fate holds in store. Lord of Forgiveness, forgive him! He stands before You, laden heavy with sins. Illness and travel had drawn us apart: he is now dead. And we are even further apart, Until the Day of Final Gathering.

1 2

Abu Bakr (d. 634): first successor of Muhammad and first caliph of Islam, considered illegitimate by some Shiʿites. Rawafid: A derogatory term for the Shiʿites. 3 Bab: an early Shiʿite religious official.

be douin chival ry    7

Bed o uin chival r y 4. A Bedouin and his guest Al-Hutayʾah (d. circa 661) was a pre- and early Islamic poet and a wanderer, much feared for his malice. Only nominally a Muslim, the poet here evokes the chivalry and generosity of pre-Islamic nomadism. Furrowed by a three-day hunger, With a strap tied to his belly, A skeleton he was, In a wilderness where no dweller had ever left a trace. Harsh was he in character, Averse to human warmth; So harsh that his wretchedness, to him, was a blessing. He had withdrawn to a gorge, with an old wife, And three ghostly children: Dumb beasts you’d imagine them, Barefoot they were, and naked. Never had they fed on baked bread, Never, since their birth, had they tasted wheat. In the darkness he glimpsed a shadow, and was afraid. But when a guest was revealed, he grew anxious and distressed. When his son saw his confusion, ‘Father,’ he said, ‘Here, take and sacrifice me that you may feed him. Do not plead hardship, for this passer-by might think us rich, And heap abuse upon us.’ He pondered a while and turned away, Though he did not slay his son, he almost did. As the two of them conversed, A herd of onagers appeared from afar, Strung in a line behind their buck. Thirsty was the herd, as it made for water. He slunk towards them: More thirsty was he for their blood. He stayed his hand until they’d quenched their thirst, Then from his quiver let fly an arrow into their midst. A female, plump, young, its foal beside her, Collapsed. Full fleshed was she and fatted. Imagine his joy as he dragged her to his family! Imagine their joy when they saw her bleeding wound! They retired, their dignity reclaimed, For they had done well by their guest; No loss of face and a trophy won.

8  p a r t i , s ection i So cheerful was the father that he seemed Like a father to their guest; So friendly was the mother that she seemed Like a mother to him.

f rivol ous l ove    9

F riv o lo us l ove 5. A girl called Hind ʿUmar ibn Abi Rabiʿa (d. 711) was a Meccan aristocrat. Best known for his frivolous love poetry, he often stalked female pilgrims to Mecca. If only Hind would keep her promise to me! If only she’d cure my heartache! Would that she’d act like a despot, just once, For only the impotent are undespotic. They say she asked her girlfriends, one day, Having shed her clothes, seeking coolness: ‘Am I truly as he describes me – swear to me by God! Or does he not do me justice?’ They burst out laughing; ‘Beauty’, they said, ‘is in the eye of the admirer.’ It was envy of her they harboured, And envy has ever plagued mankind. A maiden with soft and dewy mouth which, when open, Reveals teeth like tiny white flowers, or else hailstones. Her eyes are round, intensely white, intensely black, Her neck supple and smooth. Soft is her skin and cool in midsummer, When the heat is blazing, But warm in winter, a blanket to her young lover, Beneath the night sky, when cold overspreads. And I remember when once I said to her, As tears streamed down my cheeks, I said: ‘Who are you?’ She said: ‘I am one wasted by love, ravaged by sorrow. We are the people of Khayf,12from the region of Mina.2 If we kill someone, none dares take revenge.’ ‘Aha!’ I cried. ‘You are just what I want! And your name?’ ‘I am Hind,’ she said. My heart was dazed, smitten by her lance-like figure, Decked in finest silk, all of a piece. ‘Yes, indeed,’ I muttered, ‘your clan is our neighbour. They and we are one.’ They tell me she put a spell on me – how lovely that spell! Every time I ask her: ‘When do we meet?’ Hind laughs and says: ‘Day after tomorrow.’

1

Khayf and 2 Mina: localities near Mecca.

10  p a r t i , sectio n i

M ela ncho ly 6. A rain cloud Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri (d. 1057) was a reclusive, blind Syrian poet and man of letters, whose enigmatic, melancholic and religiously sceptical verse has led some to call him a ‘freethinker’ and ensured him a controversial though central status in Arabic literature. A rain cloud: The sea had given its caravans to drink. Once quenched, it took wing to high ground, jubilant. But the king of the winds rose up to it with his troops, And scattered it, unwilling, unfulfilled. I wept for that cloud, having missed its quest, Though neither its longing nor its passion was mine. So too the nights: They’re never generous when a creature pleads, Never faithful to their promise.

Heretica l ve r s e 7. Faith and unbelief Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri. Here his religious scepticism is explicit. Faith and unbelief, stories narrated, Qurʾan recited, Torah and Evangel. In every generation there are legends that people believe in; Was there ever a generation known solely for right guidance?

10  p a r t i , sectio n i

M ela ncho ly 6. A rain cloud Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri (d. 1057) was a reclusive, blind Syrian poet and man of letters, whose enigmatic, melancholic and religiously sceptical verse has led some to call him a ‘freethinker’ and ensured him a controversial though central status in Arabic literature. A rain cloud: The sea had given its caravans to drink. Once quenched, it took wing to high ground, jubilant. But the king of the winds rose up to it with his troops, And scattered it, unwilling, unfulfilled. I wept for that cloud, having missed its quest, Though neither its longing nor its passion was mine. So too the nights: They’re never generous when a creature pleads, Never faithful to their promise.

Heretica l ve r s e 7. Faith and unbelief Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri. Here his religious scepticism is explicit. Faith and unbelief, stories narrated, Qurʾan recited, Torah and Evangel. In every generation there are legends that people believe in; Was there ever a generation known solely for right guidance?

e l e gie s i   11

E leg ies I 8. A poetess mourns her brother The poetess, of whom little is known, is al-Fariʿah (d. circa 800) and the dead hero is her brother al-Walid ibn Tarif (d. 795), a rebel leader. On a hill called Nuhaka13is the trace of a tomb, But as though on a mountaintop, towering; A tomb enclosing ancient glory and lordship, A hero, high minded, courageous, sound in judgment. O trees of al-Khabur,2 why are you in leaf, As though not in mourning for Ibn Tarif? A youth who disdains all surfeit except for piety, All possessions except spears and swords, All property except for a mare, short haired and hardy, To charge once more into the battle ranks. An ally he was of grandeur, and while he lived, Grandeur was well pleased to have him for ally; But now he is dead, grandeur spurns all allies. Upon him the peace of God, unceasing, For death, I see, ever strikes down the noble. 9. Elegy for the celebrated vizier Nizam al-Mulk3 Muqatil ibn ʿAtiyya (d. circa 1111), known as ‘Shibl al-Dawla’, was a poet of Hijazi origin whose life was spent between Baghdad and Khurasan. He was a close associate of the celebrated vizier elegised here. The vizier Nizam al-Mulk was a pearl, unique: The All-Merciful had fashioned it from nobility. The pearl grew rare, and the days knew not its worth, So the All-Merciful, Zealous to protect it, Restored it to its shell. 10. Elegy for a friend This elegy is by Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri (d. 1057) and is widely regarded as his melancholic masterpiece. In my religion, in my conviction, Whether one moans in weeping or hums a happy tune,

1 Nuhaka: said to be near Nusaybin, now in southern Turkey. 2 Al-Khabur: a river, a tributary of the Euphrates in north-eastern Syria. 3 Nizam al-Mulk (d. 1092): famous vizier, scholar and great patron of scholarship.

e l e gie s i   11

E leg ies I 8. A poetess mourns her brother The poetess, of whom little is known, is al-Fariʿah (d. circa 800) and the dead hero is her brother al-Walid ibn Tarif (d. 795), a rebel leader. On a hill called Nuhaka13is the trace of a tomb, But as though on a mountaintop, towering; A tomb enclosing ancient glory and lordship, A hero, high minded, courageous, sound in judgment. O trees of al-Khabur,2 why are you in leaf, As though not in mourning for Ibn Tarif? A youth who disdains all surfeit except for piety, All possessions except spears and swords, All property except for a mare, short haired and hardy, To charge once more into the battle ranks. An ally he was of grandeur, and while he lived, Grandeur was well pleased to have him for ally; But now he is dead, grandeur spurns all allies. Upon him the peace of God, unceasing, For death, I see, ever strikes down the noble. 9. Elegy for the celebrated vizier Nizam al-Mulk3 Muqatil ibn ʿAtiyya (d. circa 1111), known as ‘Shibl al-Dawla’, was a poet of Hijazi origin whose life was spent between Baghdad and Khurasan. He was a close associate of the celebrated vizier elegised here. The vizier Nizam al-Mulk was a pearl, unique: The All-Merciful had fashioned it from nobility. The pearl grew rare, and the days knew not its worth, So the All-Merciful, Zealous to protect it, Restored it to its shell. 10. Elegy for a friend This elegy is by Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri (d. 1057) and is widely regarded as his melancholic masterpiece. In my religion, in my conviction, Whether one moans in weeping or hums a happy tune,

1 Nuhaka: said to be near Nusaybin, now in southern Turkey. 2 Al-Khabur: a river, a tributary of the Euphrates in north-eastern Syria. 3 Nizam al-Mulk (d. 1092): famous vizier, scholar and great patron of scholarship.

e l e gie s i   11

E leg ies I 8. A poetess mourns her brother The poetess, of whom little is known, is al-Fariʿah (d. circa 800) and the dead hero is her brother al-Walid ibn Tarif (d. 795), a rebel leader. On a hill called Nuhaka13is the trace of a tomb, But as though on a mountaintop, towering; A tomb enclosing ancient glory and lordship, A hero, high minded, courageous, sound in judgment. O trees of al-Khabur,2 why are you in leaf, As though not in mourning for Ibn Tarif? A youth who disdains all surfeit except for piety, All possessions except spears and swords, All property except for a mare, short haired and hardy, To charge once more into the battle ranks. An ally he was of grandeur, and while he lived, Grandeur was well pleased to have him for ally; But now he is dead, grandeur spurns all allies. Upon him the peace of God, unceasing, For death, I see, ever strikes down the noble. 9. Elegy for the celebrated vizier Nizam al-Mulk3 Muqatil ibn ʿAtiyya (d. circa 1111), known as ‘Shibl al-Dawla’, was a poet of Hijazi origin whose life was spent between Baghdad and Khurasan. He was a close associate of the celebrated vizier elegised here. The vizier Nizam al-Mulk was a pearl, unique: The All-Merciful had fashioned it from nobility. The pearl grew rare, and the days knew not its worth, So the All-Merciful, Zealous to protect it, Restored it to its shell. 10. Elegy for a friend This elegy is by Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri (d. 1057) and is widely regarded as his melancholic masterpiece. In my religion, in my conviction, Whether one moans in weeping or hums a happy tune,

1 Nuhaka: said to be near Nusaybin, now in southern Turkey. 2 Al-Khabur: a river, a tributary of the Euphrates in north-eastern Syria. 3 Nizam al-Mulk (d. 1092): famous vizier, scholar and great patron of scholarship.

12  p a r t i , sectio n i All is unavailing. In any assembly, a person announcing a death Sounds just like a herald of glad news. That dove, perched on its swaying branch, Is it weeping or cooing in joy? My friend, here are our graves, filling the earth, But where are the graves from the epoch of ʿAd?14 Tread softly! I cannot but surmise that this earth Is fashioned from their bodies. Shame upon us, even if long eras have passed, To insult fathers and grandfathers! Walk on air, if you can, and slowly; Do not swagger over mortal remains. Many a tomb has been a tomb many times, Laughing at its throng of adversaries: A body laid to rest over the remains of another, Across everlasting time. You who are about to bury him, Bid him farewell; A farewell is the easiest of offerings. Wash him with tears, if pure, And bury him between chest and heart. Shroud him in leaves from the Qurʾan, More valuable than the most expensive of shrouds. Follow his bier with recitation and glorification, Not with weeping or recounting his virtues. Such sorrow is futile, Such weeping is profitless, ill spent.

Hum o ur 11. Grey hairs This poem is by the Sicilian poet Abu ʿAli al-Hasan ibn ʿAbdullah (d. circa 1001). Next to nothing is known about his life. A visiting grey hair settled on my temple. I promptly plucked it, fearing the advent of death. Said the hair: ‘You exult over my weakness and my loneliness? Just wait for the army marching up behind me!’

1

ʿAd: a legendary pre-Islamic Arabian tribe, said to have inhabited eastern Yemen, and proverbial for its antiquity.

12  p a r t i , sectio n i All is unavailing. In any assembly, a person announcing a death Sounds just like a herald of glad news. That dove, perched on its swaying branch, Is it weeping or cooing in joy? My friend, here are our graves, filling the earth, But where are the graves from the epoch of ʿAd?14 Tread softly! I cannot but surmise that this earth Is fashioned from their bodies. Shame upon us, even if long eras have passed, To insult fathers and grandfathers! Walk on air, if you can, and slowly; Do not swagger over mortal remains. Many a tomb has been a tomb many times, Laughing at its throng of adversaries: A body laid to rest over the remains of another, Across everlasting time. You who are about to bury him, Bid him farewell; A farewell is the easiest of offerings. Wash him with tears, if pure, And bury him between chest and heart. Shroud him in leaves from the Qurʾan, More valuable than the most expensive of shrouds. Follow his bier with recitation and glorification, Not with weeping or recounting his virtues. Such sorrow is futile, Such weeping is profitless, ill spent.

Hum o ur 11. Grey hairs This poem is by the Sicilian poet Abu ʿAli al-Hasan ibn ʿAbdullah (d. circa 1001). Next to nothing is known about his life. A visiting grey hair settled on my temple. I promptly plucked it, fearing the advent of death. Said the hair: ‘You exult over my weakness and my loneliness? Just wait for the army marching up behind me!’

1

ʿAd: a legendary pre-Islamic Arabian tribe, said to have inhabited eastern Yemen, and proverbial for its antiquity.

poet s and the ir daughte rs   13

P o ets a nd t he ir daught e r s 12. A poet to his daughter Anonymous Were it not for you, Umayma, I would not fear poverty, Nor brave the terrors of blackest night. If I long to live on, it’s because I know too well How harsh the next of kin can be, To an orphan girl. I tremble to think that poverty will one day befall her, Tearing her veil, to expose her, Like flesh on a butcher’s slab. She prays for me to live; I pray for her to die, In pity for her, For death is a guest most welcome To the weak and innocent. I fear an uncle’s cruelty, a brother’s slight To her, Whom once I shielded from spite. 13. A dying poet to his daughter Abu Firas al-Hamdani (d. 968) was a much-admired poet, knight and prince of the Hamdanid dynasty (868–1014) of Mesopotamia and northern Syria, often at war with the Byzantines. Much of his verse was composed in captivity. Little daughter mine, do not sorrow, All creatures must one day depart. My little one, show seemly patience When your loss is vast. Mourn me, but quietly, Behind your veil and screen. When at last you address me, And I am too weak to speak, Say: ‘Abu Firas, the ornament of youth, Was not fated to enjoy his youth.’

poet s and the ir daughte rs   13

P o ets a nd t he ir daught e r s 12. A poet to his daughter Anonymous Were it not for you, Umayma, I would not fear poverty, Nor brave the terrors of blackest night. If I long to live on, it’s because I know too well How harsh the next of kin can be, To an orphan girl. I tremble to think that poverty will one day befall her, Tearing her veil, to expose her, Like flesh on a butcher’s slab. She prays for me to live; I pray for her to die, In pity for her, For death is a guest most welcome To the weak and innocent. I fear an uncle’s cruelty, a brother’s slight To her, Whom once I shielded from spite. 13. A dying poet to his daughter Abu Firas al-Hamdani (d. 968) was a much-admired poet, knight and prince of the Hamdanid dynasty (868–1014) of Mesopotamia and northern Syria, often at war with the Byzantines. Much of his verse was composed in captivity. Little daughter mine, do not sorrow, All creatures must one day depart. My little one, show seemly patience When your loss is vast. Mourn me, but quietly, Behind your veil and screen. When at last you address me, And I am too weak to speak, Say: ‘Abu Firas, the ornament of youth, Was not fated to enjoy his youth.’

14  p a r t i , sectio n i

Eleg ies II 14. Elegy for the fall of al-Andalus (Muslim Spain) Abuʾl Baqaʾ al-Rundi (d. 1285) was an Andalusian poet originally from Ronda. Little is known of his life. The elegy is said to have been composed in 1267. No ideal, no perfection, is ever without blemish, So let no one be deceived by a happy life. The world’s affairs, as I witnessed them, Are like cycles: Whoso is happy once is miserable many times. This earthly abode spares no one, And nothing ever stays the same. Where are those crowned heads of the Yemen? Where are their diadems, their coronets? Where is Iram15that Shaddad2 built? What remains of the Persian Sasanids?3 Upon all has fallen a decree of fate, irrevocable, Gone are they all, as though they had never existed. The catastrophes of Time are diverse, And Time dispenses both pleasures and sorrows. Calamities have their solace But what befell Islam has no solace. Ask Valencia: what happened to Murcia? Where is Jativa? Where is Jaen? Where is Cordoba, seat of all learning Where so many scholars shone? Where is Seville and its pleasure gardens, Its sweet river swelling, full? These cities were the corner stones of the land: How can an edifice stand without foundations? O you who ought to learn a lesson from fate, If you are asleep, fate is always awake. O you who walk merrily, Happy to have a town you call home, Can any city, after Seville, tempt anyone?

1 Iram: a legendary Arabian city. 2 Shaddad: a legendary pre-Islamic Arabian hero. 3 Sasanids: a great Persian dynasty (224–651).

e l e gie s ii   15 O you who wallow in luxury, beyond the seas, Enjoying power and prosperity in your homeland, Has news reached you of al-Andalus and its people? Caravans have carried their news everywhere. How many a hero calls out for help, As he lies dying, or captive, but no one stirs? If only you could see them, lost and without guidance, Wearing the many-coloured garments of humility. If only you could see them when sold into slavery, You would be aghast and sorrowing. How many a mother has been separated from her child, Like souls parted from bodies? How many a girl, in beauty like the dawn, Like rubies and amber, Wrenched into captivity by a Frankish lout, Tears in her eyes, her heart in anguish? At such scenes a heart melts with grief, If indeed Islam and faith still remain in hearts.

15. Elegy for the vizier Ibn Baqiyya, killed then crucified in 978 Abuʾl Hasan al-Anbari (d. 10th century) was a judicial functionary of Baghdad. Little is preserved of his poetry. Elevated in life, and elevated in death? A true miracle indeed! The people who milled around you on your cross Looked like the crowds that once sought your bounty. It was as if you had mounted a pulpit to preach to them, And as if they were at prayer, listening. You stretched forth your hands, as though in greeting, As once you would stretch them, bearing gifts. When earth itself grew too narrow to embrace Your nobility after death, They made the sky to be your grave. Instead of a shroud, they made the winds to drape you. So glorious were you in people’s hearts, That you remained protected by faithful guards. Around you fires are lit by night, Thus were you while you lived.

e l e gie s ii   15 O you who wallow in luxury, beyond the seas, Enjoying power and prosperity in your homeland, Has news reached you of al-Andalus and its people? Caravans have carried their news everywhere. How many a hero calls out for help, As he lies dying, or captive, but no one stirs? If only you could see them, lost and without guidance, Wearing the many-coloured garments of humility. If only you could see them when sold into slavery, You would be aghast and sorrowing. How many a mother has been separated from her child, Like souls parted from bodies? How many a girl, in beauty like the dawn, Like rubies and amber, Wrenched into captivity by a Frankish lout, Tears in her eyes, her heart in anguish? At such scenes a heart melts with grief, If indeed Islam and faith still remain in hearts.

15. Elegy for the vizier Ibn Baqiyya, killed then crucified in 978 Abuʾl Hasan al-Anbari (d. 10th century) was a judicial functionary of Baghdad. Little is preserved of his poetry. Elevated in life, and elevated in death? A true miracle indeed! The people who milled around you on your cross Looked like the crowds that once sought your bounty. It was as if you had mounted a pulpit to preach to them, And as if they were at prayer, listening. You stretched forth your hands, as though in greeting, As once you would stretch them, bearing gifts. When earth itself grew too narrow to embrace Your nobility after death, They made the sky to be your grave. Instead of a shroud, they made the winds to drape you. So glorious were you in people’s hearts, That you remained protected by faithful guards. Around you fires are lit by night, Thus were you while you lived.

16  p a r t i , sectio n i

Eleg ies III: hum or ous These two mock elegies were clearly intended to make fun of a common, very sombre, genre of Arabic poetry, ancient as well as modern. 16. Elegy for a tomcat Abu Bakr ibn al-ʿAllaf (d. 930) was a blind scholar of Baghdad, and companion of the caliph al-Muʿtadid (d. 902). O tomcat, you have left us, never to return! To me you were like a son. How can I stop loving you, when to us you were a true comrade-in-arms? You would repel harm from us and guard us, When absent, from a viper or a rat. And mice you would chase out of their hiding places, Visible or concealed. An army of them would confront you in the house, As you faced them, all by yourself. A day came when you harboured malice towards our neighbours, Though you had never been malicious. My heart ached for you When you used to slip away, fearless, Prowling slowly into their pigeon-tower, Only to gobble up the chicks in a flash. You would scatter their feathers in your path, And swallow the meat in one gulp. A foolish impulse it was that made you fond of pigeon meat, Till the owners thought it right to kill you. How often did they stalk you, to no avail, and how often did you escape their traps, though barely. But when you let down your guard, became too absorbed, Too careless, too impetuous, They caught you, and in their fury, revenged themselves, And to excess, for the hunter must one day be hunted. They showed no mercy for your weak cries, As you had shown no mercy for the cooing of your victims. May God never bless any food, If death lurks in the belly! What did it profit you to climb that tower, Even had it been the garden of paradise? Your life was one of comfort and ease, Granted to you by the Almighty and All-Powerful. You would eat our mice at home, living a life carefree and opulent, But show me one who renders thanks for comfort! You had scattered their forces for a time,

e l e gie s iii: humorous   17 But now they’ve assembled their armies again. Neither little nor much have they left intact, Inside our house. They have shredded our bread-baskets, shredding the hearts of our children. They have emptied out all corners, And left nothing hanging on a peg. They have torn into our brand new clothes, And now we are all new to calamity. 17. Elegy for an extracted molar tooth Al-Babi (d. 1681) grew up in Aleppo and was a judge in several cities of Syria. He died in Mecca. What a towering mountain I have lost! What grief at the hands of fate! Felled he was by the calamities of time, And time is ever fond of ravaging the glory of nobility. He fell like a mountain peak from the heights, by force, His nose in the dust. A friend he was to me, faithful, kind, and caring, Always trustworthy. A close companion he was, in every moment of hunger, Ever ready to feed and satisfy. White of face when you meet him, smooth to the touch, But headstrong in conflict. A breaker and crusher when the two lines of battle met, Sharp of point he was, and fiercest of enemies. The mishaps of fortune weakened his foundations, Rotting his mighty and noble throne. Alas! How will I ever enjoy a meal, now that he is gone? My companion since I was a boy and until my temples Were decked with grey hairs, My friend from whose bounty I derived my sustenance, power and well-being. Who shall now tame all hardships? Who shall assault? Who shall enter the lists? Who shall cut and thrust? How many a skin you peeled off to reveal its kernel! How many a piece of meat you stripped from its bone! I never appreciated you, as was your due, Till you departed. Go then in peace, And comfort yourself with this thought: how many are the victims In this mouth, felled by the ravages of fortune! Instead of the Pleiades, the stream of days has now given me

e l e gie s iii: humorous   17 But now they’ve assembled their armies again. Neither little nor much have they left intact, Inside our house. They have shredded our bread-baskets, shredding the hearts of our children. They have emptied out all corners, And left nothing hanging on a peg. They have torn into our brand new clothes, And now we are all new to calamity. 17. Elegy for an extracted molar tooth Al-Babi (d. 1681) grew up in Aleppo and was a judge in several cities of Syria. He died in Mecca. What a towering mountain I have lost! What grief at the hands of fate! Felled he was by the calamities of time, And time is ever fond of ravaging the glory of nobility. He fell like a mountain peak from the heights, by force, His nose in the dust. A friend he was to me, faithful, kind, and caring, Always trustworthy. A close companion he was, in every moment of hunger, Ever ready to feed and satisfy. White of face when you meet him, smooth to the touch, But headstrong in conflict. A breaker and crusher when the two lines of battle met, Sharp of point he was, and fiercest of enemies. The mishaps of fortune weakened his foundations, Rotting his mighty and noble throne. Alas! How will I ever enjoy a meal, now that he is gone? My companion since I was a boy and until my temples Were decked with grey hairs, My friend from whose bounty I derived my sustenance, power and well-being. Who shall now tame all hardships? Who shall assault? Who shall enter the lists? Who shall cut and thrust? How many a skin you peeled off to reveal its kernel! How many a piece of meat you stripped from its bone! I never appreciated you, as was your due, Till you departed. Go then in peace, And comfort yourself with this thought: how many are the victims In this mouth, felled by the ravages of fortune! Instead of the Pleiades, the stream of days has now given me

18  p a r t i , sectio n i Ursa Major!16 Time has now tormented me with white mountain climbers, Pretending to be lions, smirking. What revenge does fate seek to exact from me, Now that my strength is gone and my bones are brittle? Whoever wishes to last long in Time’s company Must reconcile himself to pain. Every hardship is bearable provided God Grants his servants a happy end.

Exile 18. A poet dying in exile Ibn Zurayq al-Baghdadi (d. 1029) left Baghdad for al-Andalus seeking his fortune but failed to find it and died there in poverty. The poem is said to have been addressed to his wife, whom he had left behind in Baghdad. Dearest lady, do not reproach him; reproach only provokes his longing. How right you are! But he cannot hear your words. You counselled him but went too far, and harmed him, Thinking your counsel would do him good. Be kind, not harsh, when you rebuke him, His heart is sick and aching. It suffices him that the anguish of exile Brings him each day terror of a new journey. No sooner is one journey concluded Than he is plagued by the thought of another, Planned despite himself, As if, between settling down and then moving, He is charged with pacing God’s earth.

1

Ursa Major: scattered teeth as opposed to ones strung in line like the Pleiades.

18  p a r t i , sectio n i Ursa Major!16 Time has now tormented me with white mountain climbers, Pretending to be lions, smirking. What revenge does fate seek to exact from me, Now that my strength is gone and my bones are brittle? Whoever wishes to last long in Time’s company Must reconcile himself to pain. Every hardship is bearable provided God Grants his servants a happy end.

Exile 18. A poet dying in exile Ibn Zurayq al-Baghdadi (d. 1029) left Baghdad for al-Andalus seeking his fortune but failed to find it and died there in poverty. The poem is said to have been addressed to his wife, whom he had left behind in Baghdad. Dearest lady, do not reproach him; reproach only provokes his longing. How right you are! But he cannot hear your words. You counselled him but went too far, and harmed him, Thinking your counsel would do him good. Be kind, not harsh, when you rebuke him, His heart is sick and aching. It suffices him that the anguish of exile Brings him each day terror of a new journey. No sooner is one journey concluded Than he is plagued by the thought of another, Planned despite himself, As if, between settling down and then moving, He is charged with pacing God’s earth.

1

Ursa Major: scattered teeth as opposed to ones strung in line like the Pleiades.

image ry    19

I ma g ery 19. A woman bathing Abu Nuwas (d. 814) was probably the most gifted, versatile and iconoclastic poet of the early Abbasid period. He was celebrated especially for his wine songs. She took off her chemise, ready to pour the water, And her face grew rose-red, so shy was she. Naked, she met the air, Her figure more delicate than air. She stretched forth her palm, soft as water, To water in a pitcher, made ready. Once satisfied, and hurrying to pick up her robe, She saw someone peeping and drawing near. So she let fall the darkness of her hair Upon her daylight, And her morning glow was hid beneath night, While water dripped upon water. Glory be to Him who created her, Lovelier than all women.

20  p a r t i , sectio n i

Po etic fragm e nt s b y var ious p o e t s 20. On nature and natural objects Al-Raghib al-Isfahani (d. 1108) compiled one of the most famous anthologies of pre-modern Arabic literature, titled Muhadarat al-Udabaʾ. Little is known of his life. The ‘fragments’ below are not excerpts from longer poems but short morceaux intended to capture an image in the most concise manner. One might call some of it ‘imagist’ poetry. (i) The crescent moon (a) When I gaze at it, it is like a silver boat, Heavily laden with amber. (539) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (d. 908) (b) Like a coquette, peeping at her lovers, But shyly covering her face With a blue sleeve. (539) Al-Sharif al-Radiyy al-Musawi (d. 1013) (c) Like a filament of silver Embedded in a dagger. (539) Abuʾl Fath Kashajim (d. circa 960) (ii) The new moon in daytime When the new moon is abandoned by its night It appears to those who gaze upon it, Seeking a likeness, Like a dark face whose beard has turned grey. (540) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (iii) The full moon behind clouds (a) The full moon, caught by clouds then released, Unveils The likeness of a cheek that someone has slapped. (540) Anonymous (b) The full moon appears behind clouds Like a virgin peeking from behind her veil. (540) Al-Sariyy al-Raffaʾ (d. 970) (iv) The moon shining upon water (a) As the moon veers towards setting, It is like a golden sword, unsheathed upon water. (540) Anonymous

poetic fra g me nts by various p oe ts   21 (b) There was the moon, a laughing face, In the midst of the Tigris, The waters dancing and clapping around us. Moonlight upon the waters as if embroidered with gold, The waters a blue garment for the moon. (540) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (v) The moon amid stars As the sun, bidding reluctant goodbye to daylight, Revealed to me the Pleiades and the moon, It was as if Asmaʾ, having spent the night with me, Had left behind, flirtatiously, Her earring and her bracelet. (540) Abuʾl Qasim ibn Tabataba (d. 956) (vi) The stars The blackness of night was like a vast palace, Glittering with pearls, Unsullied by piercing. (542) Abuʾl Qasim ibn Tabataba (vii) The Pleiades (a) There were the Pleiades, Hanging in the heavens, Like pearls strewn from their thread. (543) Ibn al-Tathriya (d. 744) (b) The Pleiades appeared like a howdah Atop a she-camel, Which a bright-faced cameleer Was urging on westwards. (543) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (c) Like a cup when they rise, An earring when they set. (543) Anonymous (d)The Pleiades were like the palm of a hand, Spanning the gloom of night, To see whether night grows long or sinuous. Marvel at that night, between east and west, How it is measured in fingers! How can one expect it to end? (543) Abuʾl Fath Kashajim

22  p a r t i , sectio n i (viii) Gemini (a) Like a warrior in armour, Stretching when tired. (543) Anonymous (b) Like a shepherd, driving before him a lazy bull, The prong held high. (543) Anonymous (ix) Mars Mars appeared like the red eye of a sleepy man Awakened from delicious slumber. (545) Raja’ ibn al-Walid (d. 10th century) (x) Vega The eagle spreads its wings around, Appearing like a hunter Unable to capture its prey. (545) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (xi) Vega, Altair and Pisces Two eagles, mounted on high, One with wings outstretched, falling, The other predatory. And Pisces swims in the heavens, As it swims in water, A skilful swimmer in both. (545) Ibrahim ibn Harma (d. late 8th century) (xii) Ursa Major (a) Rushing on, like an oryx Followed by its young. (545) Ibrahim ibn Harma (b) Like bare-headed women, all of one kin, Following the bier of a kinsman. (545) Abuʾl Qasim al-Tanukhi (d. 1055) (xiii) Pitch-black night (a) It was a night like a youthful head of hair, Not yet invaded by grey. (546) Anonymous

poetic fra g me nts by various p oe ts   23 (b) A night in which the caravans sank In its black waves.(546) Abuʾl Shays (d. early 9th century) (c) A night so dark that people would say: ‘In it eyes, sharp or defective, were as one.’ It was as if that night had built for us Well-fortified mansions, Pitch black their heights, Jet black their precincts. (546) Anonymous (xiv) Dawn (a) Do you not see how the dawn, Beneath its night, Is like a firelighter Blowing all night on coal? (547) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (b) Dawn then followed Jupiter Like a naked man running through the gloom, With a lantern. (547) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (xv) A rainbow Like an archer’s bow, The flashes of lightning like arrows in flight, The eye of the sun their target. (547) Anonymous (xvi) Midday heat What midday heat! So mighty That clothes would almost catch fire. In that heat even the lizards appeared As if singed by fire or parched. (549) Al-Shamardal ibn Sharik (d. early 8th century) (xvii) Extreme cold (a) A day that threw down Its full weight in a biting cold, Until the denizens of hell were envied. (551) Al-Shumayshati (d. late 10th century)

24  p a r t i , sectio n i (b) A winter so hard it choked dogs, Their bark barely heard. Whenever they tried to bark, The bitter cold tightened their muzzles. (551) Abu Muhammad al-Matrani (d. 10th century) (xviii) A day both bright and cloudy Do you not see how lovely Are the features of this day, Brightness, cloud, thunder and lightning? Just like you, you who have no equal. You make promises then break them, Coming near then withdrawing far. (558) Anonymous (xix) Shadows cast by leaves Light passing through leaves Casts shadows upon my garments, Like golden dinars scattering from my clothes. (573) Al-Mutanabbi (d. 965) (xx) The rose and the daffodil The rose claimed it was more beautiful, More glorious than all flowers. The luxuriant eye of the daffodil answered, Humbly, bashfully: ‘Tell me, what is more beautiful, Rosy cheeks or the eyes of a gazelle, With droopy lashes? And what can one hope from a lady With rosy cheeks, if she has no eyes?’ The rose puffed with pride and answered, Eloquently and with perfect logic: ‘Ah, yes, but a rosy cheek is more beautiful Than a jaundiced eye.’ (576) Al-Sanawbari (d. 945) (xxi) A red anemone A cup of red carnelian, Its base paved with pungent musk. Springtime had crafted its likeness, Setting it up amid gardens, on a green stalk.

poetic fra g me nts by various p oe ts   25 When the wind blows, it leaves it Like a drunkard, Reeling and bending. You see it kneeling, then raising its head, Like a lover, Cringing, uncertain. (577) Ibn Durayd (d. 933) (xxii) Wallflowers To you there came a tray of wallflowers, Filling the air with their scent. On their petals, lovers’ faces had shed Complexions That separation had inflicted upon them. (580) Ibn al-Rumi (d. 896) (xxiii) The Judas tree The Judas tree was like a blazing fire Though no sparks flew. Sitting around it, We were like men seeking warmth, Though none was warmed. (580) ʿAbdan al-Isfahani (d. 10th century) 21. On the joys and agonies of love Al-Raghib al-Isfahani, Muhadarat al-Udabaʾ. I ask God’s forgiveness for all sins except loving you, For this is my good deed the day I meet my Maker. If you claim that love is a sin, Then love is the best of all sins before God. (42) Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Ahnaf (d. 808) Bear with patience a great injury from your beloved, And even if unjustly treated, say I am unjust. For if you do not forgive the injury of love, You will lose your beloved, dragged away by the nose. (43) Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Ahnaf Love of her came to me Before I knew what love meant. Love found an empty heart, And took firm hold. (50) Ibn al-Tathriya (d. 744)

poetic fra g me nts by various p oe ts   25 When the wind blows, it leaves it Like a drunkard, Reeling and bending. You see it kneeling, then raising its head, Like a lover, Cringing, uncertain. (577) Ibn Durayd (d. 933) (xxii) Wallflowers To you there came a tray of wallflowers, Filling the air with their scent. On their petals, lovers’ faces had shed Complexions That separation had inflicted upon them. (580) Ibn al-Rumi (d. 896) (xxiii) The Judas tree The Judas tree was like a blazing fire Though no sparks flew. Sitting around it, We were like men seeking warmth, Though none was warmed. (580) ʿAbdan al-Isfahani (d. 10th century) 21. On the joys and agonies of love Al-Raghib al-Isfahani, Muhadarat al-Udabaʾ. I ask God’s forgiveness for all sins except loving you, For this is my good deed the day I meet my Maker. If you claim that love is a sin, Then love is the best of all sins before God. (42) Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Ahnaf (d. 808) Bear with patience a great injury from your beloved, And even if unjustly treated, say I am unjust. For if you do not forgive the injury of love, You will lose your beloved, dragged away by the nose. (43) Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Ahnaf Love of her came to me Before I knew what love meant. Love found an empty heart, And took firm hold. (50) Ibn al-Tathriya (d. 744)

26  p a r t i , sectio n i She speaks to me about her heart, And it is as if, If truthful, It is of my heart she speaks. (52) Ibrahim ibn al-Mahdi (d. 839) A man called out, When we were in Khayf, near Mina.17 He stirred the passions of my heart, Unawares. He called out ‘Laila!’ to another girl; It was as if, by shouting ‘Laila’, He had stirred up a bird in my chest. (54) Qays ibn Dharih (d. late 7th century) She whom you used to mention with love Has now killed you. Against her I had warned you. Seek not another love with anyone else: Only she who killed you can resurrect you. (54) Anonymous Here is a cup that reminds me of my beloved: Its colour, its smell, its taste, its bubbles. (56) Al-Buhturi (d. 897) I drew her image in the sand, Then sat and complained to her, As I wept, of the agonies I suffered. It was as if I was with her, Complaining of my sorrows, My complaint etched on sand. (57) Bashshar ibn Burd (d. 784) Among the sorrows I suffered Was the day she departed. As she turned to go, the tears in my eyes wavered, But when, from afar, she turned once more to look, My eyes overflowed. (62) Kuthayyir ʿAzza (d. 723) As I walked away from her, I felt a quarrel arising between my heart and my legs. My heart said: ‘You are walking away!’ My legs said: ‘You are determined to leave!’ (68) Abu Bakr al-Khwarizmi (d. 993) 1

Khayf and Mina: localities near Mecca.

poetic fra g me nts by various p oe ts   27 She tormented me with her love, A torment excruciating. She left nothing standing and nothing behind. I rebuked her mildly and she cried, Moving me also to tears. But when she saw me crying, she laughed. So I laughed once more, happy to see her laughing, But when she saw me laughing, she cried. She loves to cross me, Like a young she-camel, raring to go with her rider, But when her rider urges her on, she buckles straightaway. (75–6) Anonymous She said, as she saw tears pouring down my cheeks: ‘False tears! You care for nothing! Long have you been a shameless sinner. Your shirt is streaked with tears, but your heart is carefree, Like the shirt of Joseph, when they drenched it With blood that was false.’ (84) Dik al-Jinn (d. circa 849) When my body lies against hers, It is like two branches of a tree, One lush, the other wilted. (91) Ibn al-Muʿtazz (d. 908) She looked, and her arrow was aimed at his heart, Then she turned away, And he was in raptures. Heart stricken was he when she looked And heart stricken when she turned away. How painful is the arrow when it hits, And how painful when extracted. (118) Ibn al-Rumi (d. 896) How many stolen hugs and kisses, For fear of someone surprising us! Like birds pecking at ripe dates But afraid of the watchman. (121) Ibn al-Muʿtazz

28  p a r t i , sectio n i

Sed uctio n 22. A poet defends his seduction of a young and innocent girl Bashshar ibn Burd (d. 784) was one of the most gifted of the ‘modernist’ Abbasid poets who ­abandoned earlier poetic conventions and experimented with new forms of diction and subject. An iconoclast, he is thought to have been a heretic. He was blind and said to be very ugly. Enough, you people! I’ll have nothing to do with these gossipers, ever! Only the hypocrite noses around other people’s faults. Wondrous indeed is this tumult; and whoever finds fault in love, A stone in his mouth! No one who believes in God ever blames a lover: Be off with you! Infidels is what you are. Sufficient for me and her whom I adore, From her and me, conversation and gazing, Or else a kiss in between, Even if loin-cloths remain untied; Or else touching with my hand what lies beneath her chemise, The door blocked by curtains. Meanwhile her anklets shimmered, and her voice grew louder As her moaning increased, And her palms grew limp, surrendering to the foreplay. As her tears flowed, she said: ‘Leave me alone. Go away. You are not as they said you were. My God, you are a warrior with a vicious bite! You are lucky my nanny is not here to see you, I have none but God to help me against you. O God, avenge me, seeing how weak I am, From this libertine with dirty fingers, Resolute and hairy. He fell upon my wrist, bruising it, A man of unbearable strength, all-powerful. Upon me he fastened a rough beard, black, like needles. Then he mounted me while my brothers were absent. Alas! What would they have done if present! I swear to God, you will never get away with it. Be gone, you wall climber, you prevailer! What will my mother say when she sees my lips? What will happen when you spread the news? And what will my nanny say, my love? As if caution were of any use.’ At that point I answered: ‘Don’t worry, my girl, I am a man of experience and discretion. Just tell them it was a bedbug with claws, That is, of course, if claws are found among bedbugs.’

section ii

Prose

J a hiz Jahiz (d. 869) was a towering figure of what has been called Abbasid ‘literary humanism’ or adab, a scholar of very wide interests in the natural and social worlds and a consummate stylist. 23. On authors and authorship He who writes a book should write it only if he keeps constantly in view that everyone is his enemy, that everyone is an expert in his field, that everyone has nothing on his mind but his subject, and that everyone is ready and willing to challenge him. Nor must an author be satisfied with this. He should lay his book aside, and not be content with half-baked opinions, for a book, once composed, is wonderfully seductive. Once human nature has grown still and the motions of the soul are at peace, the humours of the body are no longer agitated, and the spirit has recovered its composure, the author should take another look at his work and re-examine its various sections. He should do so as one who fears imperfection and censure rather than one who seeks perfection. He should take to heart the verse of the poet: People find speech attractive when it goes unchallenged, Until confronted by fault-finding and prolixity. Or else he should ponder the proverb ‘Whoever races his horse without competitors will be well pleased’. He should then beware of being gripped by the emotion of him who races his horse alone, or of him who gives free rein to his expertise in the absence of rivals and masters of his craft. 24. Advice to public speakers I Speak for as long as people fix their eyes and ears upon you. If you note any sign of flagging, desist.

section ii

Prose

J a hiz Jahiz (d. 869) was a towering figure of what has been called Abbasid ‘literary humanism’ or adab, a scholar of very wide interests in the natural and social worlds and a consummate stylist. 23. On authors and authorship He who writes a book should write it only if he keeps constantly in view that everyone is his enemy, that everyone is an expert in his field, that everyone has nothing on his mind but his subject, and that everyone is ready and willing to challenge him. Nor must an author be satisfied with this. He should lay his book aside, and not be content with half-baked opinions, for a book, once composed, is wonderfully seductive. Once human nature has grown still and the motions of the soul are at peace, the humours of the body are no longer agitated, and the spirit has recovered its composure, the author should take another look at his work and re-examine its various sections. He should do so as one who fears imperfection and censure rather than one who seeks perfection. He should take to heart the verse of the poet: People find speech attractive when it goes unchallenged, Until confronted by fault-finding and prolixity. Or else he should ponder the proverb ‘Whoever races his horse without competitors will be well pleased’. He should then beware of being gripped by the emotion of him who races his horse alone, or of him who gives free rein to his expertise in the absence of rivals and masters of his craft. 24. Advice to public speakers I Speak for as long as people fix their eyes and ears upon you. If you note any sign of flagging, desist.

30  p a r t i , sectio n ii 25. Advice to public speakers II The famous preacher Ibn al-Sammak once began to preach. A slave girl of his was in a place where she could hear him. When he went back to her he asked: ‘How did you find my sermon?’ ‘Wonderful,’ she replied, ‘except that you repeat yourself too much.’ He said: ‘I repeat myself so that he who does not understand can understand it.’ She replied: ‘Yes, but until the one who did not understand comes to understand it, he who understood it is bored with it.’ 26. The power of suggestion There was once a man who made fun of people, claiming he could cure toothache through a magic spell. To all who came to him with a toothache, he would say, once he had cast his spell: ‘When you retire to bed, be sure not to think of monkeys. If you do, the spell will have no effect.’ Once the patient retired to sleep, the first thing that would come to mind was of course monkeys. So he would spend the night in pain and the following morning he would go back to see the spell maker. The latter would ask: ‘How did you sleep last night?’ ‘I spent the night in pain,’ the patient would reply. ‘Did you by any chance think of monkeys?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Aha! There you are! That’s why the spell did not work.’

30  p a r t i , sectio n ii 25. Advice to public speakers II The famous preacher Ibn al-Sammak once began to preach. A slave girl of his was in a place where she could hear him. When he went back to her he asked: ‘How did you find my sermon?’ ‘Wonderful,’ she replied, ‘except that you repeat yourself too much.’ He said: ‘I repeat myself so that he who does not understand can understand it.’ She replied: ‘Yes, but until the one who did not understand comes to understand it, he who understood it is bored with it.’ 26. The power of suggestion There was once a man who made fun of people, claiming he could cure toothache through a magic spell. To all who came to him with a toothache, he would say, once he had cast his spell: ‘When you retire to bed, be sure not to think of monkeys. If you do, the spell will have no effect.’ Once the patient retired to sleep, the first thing that would come to mind was of course monkeys. So he would spend the night in pain and the following morning he would go back to see the spell maker. The latter would ask: ‘How did you sleep last night?’ ‘I spent the night in pain,’ the patient would reply. ‘Did you by any chance think of monkeys?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Aha! There you are! That’s why the spell did not work.’

animal f abl e s   31

Anim a l fa b l e s 27. The lion, the wolf, the raven, the jackal and the camel Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (d. 756) was a celebrated essayist imbued with the culture of the world of late antiquity. It is related that a lion lived in a thicket close to a busy road. With him were three friends: a wolf, a raven and a jackal. Some cameleers were passing by that road when one camel fell back from the caravan, entered the thicket and eventually came face to face with the lion. ‘Where did you come from?’ said the lion. ‘From such-and-such a place,’ answered the camel. ‘What is it that you want?’ asked the lion. ‘Whatever the King orders,’ said the camel. ‘Fine,’ said the lion. ‘You are welcome to live among us here, in safety and prosperity.’ So the camel lived with them for a long time. Then, one day, the lion went out to hunt and came upon a huge elephant. A fierce fight ensued and the lion suffered many gaping wounds from which his blood flowed, for the elephant had managed to gash him severely with his tusks. No sooner did the lion return than he slumped down motionless, and could no longer hunt. The wolf, the raven and the jackal remained for several days without food, since they were used to eating leftovers from what the lion brought in. Eventually hunger turned them into skin and bones. The lion saw their condition and said: ‘You are in real hardship and you need to eat.’ They replied: ‘We are not worried about ourselves. It’s just that we see the King suffering so! If only we could find something for him to eat and recover his health!’ The lion said: ‘Your sentiments are no doubt sincere. But spread out and see if you can hunt something which we can share among us.’ The three friends then left the lion, gathered together to one side and took stock of their situation. They said: ‘What have we to do with this herbivore who has nothing in common with us, nor thinks the way we do? Let us try to convince the lion to eat him and feed us from his meat.’ The jackal said: ‘We cannot possibly mention this to the lion. He has already given him safe conduct and has sworn to protect his life.’ The raven said: ‘I will take care of the lion for you.’ So he went back and entered into the lion’s presence. The lion asked: ‘Have you managed to hunt something?’ ‘Alas,’ said the raven, ‘the hunter must have vigour and good eyesight, and we have neither, being wasted by hunger. But we have agreed upon a plan and if Your Majesty agrees, we will proceed.’ ‘What is your plan?’ said the lion. The raven said: ‘That herbivore wallowing in our midst! He is of no use to us and of no benefit, nor does he do anything to serve our interests.’ When the lion heard this, he grew angry. ‘How wrong you are! How weak your logic and how far you are from keeping faith and mercy! You had no right to dare to face me with this plan or make this speech in my presence. For you must know that I granted the camel safe conduct and swore to protect his life. Do you not know that there can be no greater charity, and nothing more worthy of reward, than to grant safe conduct to a soul that is

32  p a r t i , sectio n ii in fear or to spare a life? I have guaranteed him safety and I shall not betray my word to him.’ The raven replied: ‘I fully understand what Your Majesty has said. But a single soul may be sacrificed for the sake of a family, a family for the sake of a clan, a clan for the sake of a town’s inhabitants, and the inhabitants of a town for the sake of the King. The King now finds himself in dire need. I guarantee to find for Your Majesty a way to evade his word of honour in a manner that involves no deceit, and where Your Majesty does not break his own oath nor order anyone else to do so. Instead, we shall trick him with our cunning and the King shall both keep his word and be the winner.’ When the lion heard the raven’s answer, he fell silent and the raven knew that his silence meant assent. So he returned to his friends and said: ‘I have spoken to the lion about eating the camel and we shall proceed as follows. We shall all meet in the lion’s presence, where we shall speak of his affliction, and express our sorrow and concern for his welfare. Each in turn will offer himself to be eaten but the other two will laugh the suggestion to scorn and point out the harm in eating him. If we do so, we shall be saved and the lion will be pleased with us.’ They agreed to the plan and went forward into the lion’s presence. The raven said: ‘Your Majesty, you need something to give you strength and we are more worthy to offer our lives for your sake, for it is through you that we make our living. If you were to die, none of us could survive after you, nor would life itself have any value. So let the King eat me. I am perfectly happy with this.’ The wolf and the jackal said: ‘Silence! There can be no benefit to His Majesty from eating you, nor will he satisfy his hunger if he does.’ ‘Ah,’ said the jackal, ‘but I can satisfy the King’s hunger. Let him eat me. I am perfectly happy with this.’ The wolf and raven said: ‘You are foul-smelling and filthy.’ The wolf then said, ‘But I am not like that. So let the King eat me and I shall sincerely be happy.’ The raven and jackal said: ‘Physicians say “He who wishes to kill himself, let him eat wolf meat”.’ So the camel thought that if he offered himself, the others would find excuses for him as they had just done for one another, thus escaping with his life and gaining the lion’s approval. He said: ‘But I can satisfy the King’s hunger and thirst. My meat is tender and my bowels are clean. Let the King eat me and feed his friends and courtiers. I offer myself willingly and obediently.’ The wolf, raven and jackal replied: ‘The camel has spoken the truth and shown his generosity and good sense.’ They leapt upon him and tore him to pieces. 28. The flea and the mosquito Bahaʾ al-Din al-ʿAmili (d. 1621), a celebrated Shiʿi scholar and polymath, was born in Baalbek but emigrated and worked in Iran. His most popular work was his literary anthology from which this extract is taken. Once upon a time, a flea met a mosquito. The mosquito said to the flea: ‘I am truly amazed at how things are with you and me. I am more eloquent than you, clearer in speech, better in judgment and more important, and I fly around more than you. And yet I am tormented

32  p a r t i , sectio n ii in fear or to spare a life? I have guaranteed him safety and I shall not betray my word to him.’ The raven replied: ‘I fully understand what Your Majesty has said. But a single soul may be sacrificed for the sake of a family, a family for the sake of a clan, a clan for the sake of a town’s inhabitants, and the inhabitants of a town for the sake of the King. The King now finds himself in dire need. I guarantee to find for Your Majesty a way to evade his word of honour in a manner that involves no deceit, and where Your Majesty does not break his own oath nor order anyone else to do so. Instead, we shall trick him with our cunning and the King shall both keep his word and be the winner.’ When the lion heard the raven’s answer, he fell silent and the raven knew that his silence meant assent. So he returned to his friends and said: ‘I have spoken to the lion about eating the camel and we shall proceed as follows. We shall all meet in the lion’s presence, where we shall speak of his affliction, and express our sorrow and concern for his welfare. Each in turn will offer himself to be eaten but the other two will laugh the suggestion to scorn and point out the harm in eating him. If we do so, we shall be saved and the lion will be pleased with us.’ They agreed to the plan and went forward into the lion’s presence. The raven said: ‘Your Majesty, you need something to give you strength and we are more worthy to offer our lives for your sake, for it is through you that we make our living. If you were to die, none of us could survive after you, nor would life itself have any value. So let the King eat me. I am perfectly happy with this.’ The wolf and the jackal said: ‘Silence! There can be no benefit to His Majesty from eating you, nor will he satisfy his hunger if he does.’ ‘Ah,’ said the jackal, ‘but I can satisfy the King’s hunger. Let him eat me. I am perfectly happy with this.’ The wolf and raven said: ‘You are foul-smelling and filthy.’ The wolf then said, ‘But I am not like that. So let the King eat me and I shall sincerely be happy.’ The raven and jackal said: ‘Physicians say “He who wishes to kill himself, let him eat wolf meat”.’ So the camel thought that if he offered himself, the others would find excuses for him as they had just done for one another, thus escaping with his life and gaining the lion’s approval. He said: ‘But I can satisfy the King’s hunger and thirst. My meat is tender and my bowels are clean. Let the King eat me and feed his friends and courtiers. I offer myself willingly and obediently.’ The wolf, raven and jackal replied: ‘The camel has spoken the truth and shown his generosity and good sense.’ They leapt upon him and tore him to pieces. 28. The flea and the mosquito Bahaʾ al-Din al-ʿAmili (d. 1621), a celebrated Shiʿi scholar and polymath, was born in Baalbek but emigrated and worked in Iran. His most popular work was his literary anthology from which this extract is taken. Once upon a time, a flea met a mosquito. The mosquito said to the flea: ‘I am truly amazed at how things are with you and me. I am more eloquent than you, clearer in speech, better in judgment and more important, and I fly around more than you. And yet I am tormented

animal f abl e s    33 by hunger, and sleep is denied me. I am constantly ill and exhausted, ever shooed off. Meanwhile, you eat to your heart’s content, grazing on soft bodies.’ The flea answered: ‘Well, you go around people, humming and droning, and buzzing over their heads. I obtain my food by keeping silent.’

34  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Sna ppy a ns w e r s 29. Al-Ajwiba al-muskita This was a popular subsection in many literary anthologies, sometimes called al-Ajwiba al-muskita (answers that reduce opponents to silence). • The Abbasid prince Al-ʿAbbas ibn Muhammad ibn ʿAbdullah ibn al-ʿAbbas was noble and high minded in spirit. A man once said to him: ‘I have a small favour to ask of you.’ The prince replied: ‘Then go ask it from a small man.’ • The Shiʿite imam Jaʿfar al-Sadiq was told: ‘We pray to God but we do not see any response.’ He replied: ‘That is because you pray to what you do not know.’ • A man grabbed hold of the bridle of Caliph ʿAbd al-Malik’s horse. ‘Woe to you!’ said the caliph. ‘How bold you are!’ ‘Yes,’ said the man, ‘but hunger is courageous!’ • The famous governor al-Hajjaj was eating eggs with a man. He would eat the yolk and leave the white to the other man. Eventually the man said: ‘Sir, how fair and just is the omelette!’ • A man sat outside the door of the mosque of Kufa, with a large pitcher of date wine from which he was selling draughts and calling out in a loud voice: ‘Come buy a draught for a dirham!1 Made licit by Abu Hanifa!’28Abu Hanifa, passing by, said: ‘You there, you have done an ugly deed.’ The man said: ‘But it was you who declared date wine licit.’ Abu Hanifa replied: ‘True enough, but it is also licit for your father and mother to copulate in this mosque, and in my presence, and that too would be a licit but ugly deed.’ • Reason sought permission to enter into the presence of Luck but was denied it. Reason asked: ‘Why have you denied me permission?’ Luck answered: ‘Because you need me and I do not need you.’ • A group of people led a debtor in before a judge, claiming he owed them money. The debtor said: ‘They are right. I simply asked them to wait a little until I sell my belongings, since I own wealth and property, slaves, camels and sheep.’ The people said: ‘We swear to God he is a liar. He owns neither much nor little but simply wants to put us off.’ The debtor said: ‘There you are, Your Honour. They have just witnessed that I am utterly penniless.’ The judge released him. • A Persian and a Greek were boasting to one another in the presence of the governor Ziyad. The Persian said: ‘We do not elevate to kingship one who takes counsel.’ The Greek replied: ‘We do not elevate to kingship one who does not.’ • The caliph Muʿawiya saw his son Yazid beating a servant. The caliph said: ‘Do not corrupt your own manners while seeking to reform his.’ • A man went to China with three hundred dirhams, lived there for a time, and made a profit of one thousand dinars.39He then wanted to leave but the king of China said to him: ‘I will not allow you to leave. You came into our country a poor man and grew rich among us. And now you want to leave with the money you made here? If everyone who enters our country did the same, our land would soon be empty of silver and gold.’ The man said: ‘If you return to me what your country took from me, I will return to you the Dirham: a silver coin. 2 Abu Hanifa (d. 767): a celebrated jurist of Baghdad and founder of the Hanafi school of law. 3 Dinar: a gold coin worth approximately ten dirhams. 1

snap p y answe rs   35

• • • •

•

• •

profit I made here.’ ‘What is that?’ said the king. ‘Well, I entered your country as a young man and spent my youth here. Give me back what I spent and I will give back what I earned here.’ The caliph Muʿawiya asked a man: ‘Are you the chief of your clan?’ ‘Yes,’ answered the man. ‘You lie,’ said the caliph. ‘Had you been the chief you would not have said so.’ A man met another and asked him: ‘What is your name?’ ‘My name is Sea’, the other replied. ‘Father of whom?’ ‘Father of Flood,’ he replied. ‘Son of whom?’ ‘Son of River.’ The first man said: ‘Your friends would need a boat to reach you.’ A man in Basra, asking directions for the quarter of the tribe of ʿAbd al-Qays, was told: ‘Walk about and start cursing.’ A burglar broke into the house of Ibn Abi Qays. He searched the house and found nothing. When he was about to leave, Ibn Abi Qays said to him: ‘Kindly close the door behind you.’ Said the burglar: ‘Of course. I have taken so much that you have a right to ask me for a favour!’ A descendant of the Prophet once visited Abuʾl Sayib, who was ill. He said to him: ‘Could you please give me that pitcher?’ ‘Bless you,’ Abuʾl Sayib answered, ‘I use it day and night.’ ‘What about that lamp?’ ‘Bless you, this is all that remains from my late mother’s inheritance.’ ‘Then how about that bed?’ ‘The blessings and peace of God upon Christ,’ said Abuʾl Sayib. ‘What do you mean?’ asked the Prophet’s descendant. Abuʾl Sayib answered: ‘Christ at least did not leave behind him any descendants to inherit his community.’ Two foxes fell into a trap set by a hunter. When night fell, one of them said to the other: ‘My brother, when shall we meet again?’ ‘At the furrier’s in three days’ time,’ said the other. A man looked inside the house of a beggar and found it full of furniture and fabrics. He said: ‘You continue to beg while you own all these fineries?’ The beggar replied: ‘Bless you, I beg in such a refined manner that I hate to give it up.’

36  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Heretics Heresy came in several varieties throughout pre-modern Islamic history. Some heretics, like Ibn al-Shalmaghani, pointed out certain absurdities in religious beliefs. Others, like Abu Talib or al-Maʿarri, were baffled by the mystery of God. Yet others strove to emulate the Qurʾan in order to prove its non-divine origin. 30. On Ibn al-Shalmaghani, his execution and a brief mention of his heretical views Abuʾl Fida (d. 1331) He argued, among other things, that the proof of Truth is superior to the Truth, and that one contrary is nearer to another than its like. 31. On Abu Talib al-Makki, the famous mystic Abuʾl Fida Abu Talib [d. 996] was the author of the celebrated work Sustenance for Hearts. He came to Baghdad towards the end of his life and preached there but his speech became confused and his devotees abandoned him. Among his confusions which were later remembered was that he once said: ‘There is no source of harm greater to created beings than their Creator.’ 32. Rival Qurʾans Abuʾl Husayn al-Haruni al-Zaydi (d. 1030) was a Shiʿite rationalist theologian. Among [various] attempts to rival the Qurʾan are the words ascribed to Musaylima the Liar1 (d. 632): ‘By the darkness of night! By the black wolf! By Time eternal! Usayyid violated no sanctity!’ He also said: ‘By blackest night! By the stealthy wolf! Usayyid cut down neither green trees nor timber.’ He used to say: ‘By the sheep and their colours! The most marvellous are the black and their milk. By the black sheep and the white milk! This is a pure marvel. Mixing milk with water is forbidden. Why then do you mix the two?’ He also said: ‘O frog, daughter of two frogs! Croak as much as you like. Your top half is in water, your bottom in mud. You neither prevent one who drinks nor do you muddy the water. To us belongs one half of the land, to Quraysh2 the other half. But Quraysh is an aggressive tribe.’ He also said: ‘By forces that rot vegetation! By forces that mow down all harvests! By forces that scatter grain! By forces that crush all things utterly! By women who bake bread! By women who prepare broth! By women who gobble up food, whether in quantity or butter! You have been preferred to nomads, and settled folk are not your superior. Protect your territory. Give shelter to the wretched. Resist the aggressor.’ 10

Musaylima the Liar: a contemporary of Muhammad, who declared himself as a rival prophet in eastern Arabia.  Quraysh: the Meccan tribe of Muhammad.

1 2

36  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Heretics Heresy came in several varieties throughout pre-modern Islamic history. Some heretics, like Ibn al-Shalmaghani, pointed out certain absurdities in religious beliefs. Others, like Abu Talib or al-Maʿarri, were baffled by the mystery of God. Yet others strove to emulate the Qurʾan in order to prove its non-divine origin. 30. On Ibn al-Shalmaghani, his execution and a brief mention of his heretical views Abuʾl Fida (d. 1331) He argued, among other things, that the proof of Truth is superior to the Truth, and that one contrary is nearer to another than its like. 31. On Abu Talib al-Makki, the famous mystic Abuʾl Fida Abu Talib [d. 996] was the author of the celebrated work Sustenance for Hearts. He came to Baghdad towards the end of his life and preached there but his speech became confused and his devotees abandoned him. Among his confusions which were later remembered was that he once said: ‘There is no source of harm greater to created beings than their Creator.’ 32. Rival Qurʾans Abuʾl Husayn al-Haruni al-Zaydi (d. 1030) was a Shiʿite rationalist theologian. Among [various] attempts to rival the Qurʾan are the words ascribed to Musaylima the Liar1 (d. 632): ‘By the darkness of night! By the black wolf! By Time eternal! Usayyid violated no sanctity!’ He also said: ‘By blackest night! By the stealthy wolf! Usayyid cut down neither green trees nor timber.’ He used to say: ‘By the sheep and their colours! The most marvellous are the black and their milk. By the black sheep and the white milk! This is a pure marvel. Mixing milk with water is forbidden. Why then do you mix the two?’ He also said: ‘O frog, daughter of two frogs! Croak as much as you like. Your top half is in water, your bottom in mud. You neither prevent one who drinks nor do you muddy the water. To us belongs one half of the land, to Quraysh2 the other half. But Quraysh is an aggressive tribe.’ He also said: ‘By forces that rot vegetation! By forces that mow down all harvests! By forces that scatter grain! By forces that crush all things utterly! By women who bake bread! By women who prepare broth! By women who gobble up food, whether in quantity or butter! You have been preferred to nomads, and settled folk are not your superior. Protect your territory. Give shelter to the wretched. Resist the aggressor.’ 10

Musaylima the Liar: a contemporary of Muhammad, who declared himself as a rival prophet in eastern Arabia.  Quraysh: the Meccan tribe of Muhammad.

1 2

36  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Heretics Heresy came in several varieties throughout pre-modern Islamic history. Some heretics, like Ibn al-Shalmaghani, pointed out certain absurdities in religious beliefs. Others, like Abu Talib or al-Maʿarri, were baffled by the mystery of God. Yet others strove to emulate the Qurʾan in order to prove its non-divine origin. 30. On Ibn al-Shalmaghani, his execution and a brief mention of his heretical views Abuʾl Fida (d. 1331) He argued, among other things, that the proof of Truth is superior to the Truth, and that one contrary is nearer to another than its like. 31. On Abu Talib al-Makki, the famous mystic Abuʾl Fida Abu Talib [d. 996] was the author of the celebrated work Sustenance for Hearts. He came to Baghdad towards the end of his life and preached there but his speech became confused and his devotees abandoned him. Among his confusions which were later remembered was that he once said: ‘There is no source of harm greater to created beings than their Creator.’ 32. Rival Qurʾans Abuʾl Husayn al-Haruni al-Zaydi (d. 1030) was a Shiʿite rationalist theologian. Among [various] attempts to rival the Qurʾan are the words ascribed to Musaylima the Liar1 (d. 632): ‘By the darkness of night! By the black wolf! By Time eternal! Usayyid violated no sanctity!’ He also said: ‘By blackest night! By the stealthy wolf! Usayyid cut down neither green trees nor timber.’ He used to say: ‘By the sheep and their colours! The most marvellous are the black and their milk. By the black sheep and the white milk! This is a pure marvel. Mixing milk with water is forbidden. Why then do you mix the two?’ He also said: ‘O frog, daughter of two frogs! Croak as much as you like. Your top half is in water, your bottom in mud. You neither prevent one who drinks nor do you muddy the water. To us belongs one half of the land, to Quraysh2 the other half. But Quraysh is an aggressive tribe.’ He also said: ‘By forces that rot vegetation! By forces that mow down all harvests! By forces that scatter grain! By forces that crush all things utterly! By women who bake bread! By women who prepare broth! By women who gobble up food, whether in quantity or butter! You have been preferred to nomads, and settled folk are not your superior. Protect your territory. Give shelter to the wretched. Resist the aggressor.’ 10

Musaylima the Liar: a contemporary of Muhammad, who declared himself as a rival prophet in eastern Arabia.  Quraysh: the Meccan tribe of Muhammad.

1 2

he re tics    37 33. Last will and testament Imam al-Haramayn al-Juwayni (d. 1085) was a celebrated theologian. I sailed across the great ocean and dived into the depths seeking what the Muslim community had forbidden, and all of this in search of truth. In times past I used to shun emulation and imitation, but now I have recanted all this and preach a simple word of truth: Embrace the faith of old women.

38  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Psycho lo g y 34. The psychology of old age Fakhr al-Din al-Razi (d. 1209) was a prominent theologian and commentator on the Qurʾan, with wide scientific interests. As regards old age, this is the stage of life when the cold and dry humours predominate over natural character and when mental and imaginative activities are rife. It is also the age of plentiful experiences and encounters. These bodily and psychic circumstances engender several characteristics, most of which are in fact contrary to the characteristics of the stage of youth and maturity. First, the old are rarely submissive to anyone. This is because their predominantly dry humour dictates that the judgements they have formed and to which they have become attached are fixed and preclude forming new judgements. Furthermore, their long years of experience render them sceptical towards most speech, which in turn makes them less ready to submit to, or be led by, anyone. Second, they never pass a decisive or final judgement on any matter and, if they do, they judge in accordance with their experiences. Every matter in their view is judged in accordance with precedent or else is not judged at all. It is as if, because of their many and diverse experiences, they have experienced nothing at all. If they speak of any matter relating to future time, they speak of it with hesitation, qualifying their words with ‘maybe’ and ‘perhaps’. This state engenders another: their aversion to excessive personal attachment or excessive personal antipathy. In fact you notice them, when they like someone, behaving as if they dislike them, and when they dislike someone behaving as if they like them. Third, their desire to amass wealth is greater than their desire for thanks or for praise. This is because their considerable experience in observing the harm done by poverty renders them exceedingly attached to wealth. Fourth, they are bad tempered, and that too is due to their great experience and their contempt for others. For whenever they witness any event, they have witnessed its like many times before and this leads to lack of awe and respect. Fifth, cowardice predominates among them and the reason is as stated above. Sixth, their grasp of the consequences of actions is more complete and this too is due to their extensive experience. Seventh, they are unlike youth where matters that move one to action are concerned, and are thus more inclined to inactivity. This is due to their cold humour. This is why they sorrow and are afraid, and because of sorrow and fear are ever more stingy with wealth. Their appetite for sex and beautiful forms is lessened because they no longer crave them, while their appetite for food predominates because their cold and dry humour needs something to balance it. This sort of humour leads them, among other things, to love justice and the just prince, by reason of their cowardice and weakness. Their partiality to justice is because of their love of safety and security, and this love of security is either an inherent virtue of the soul or else due to fear and cowardice overwhelming the soul. What distinguishes the two kinds of love is the following: if love of justice is entrenched in the soul from its earliest years it belongs to the first kind of love; if it occurs only in old age, it belongs to the second kind of love. Eighth, insolence predominates among them, for they have witnessed every conceivable

p sy chol ogy    39 sort of depravity either from themselves or from others over and over again. Familiarity breeds little regard for the impact of their insolence on others. Ninth, their hope for the good things of life is lessened due to their cowardice and their fear of poverty if they spend money. This is because they have witnessed with their own eyes that deprivation and failure are common among mankind. Hence their fear and sorrow increase and their moments of joy are rare. Tenth, their anger is sharp but feeble. It is sharp because their humour resembles that of the sick, and just as the sick person is quick to anger, so too the old. As for feebleness, their dominant cowardice and fear prevents them from taking anger to its limits. Eleventh, we stated earlier that the young openly advertise their iniquity, but the old have no desire to do so. This is because cold predominates among their humours, thus engendering cowardice and fear, and these in turn prevent them from showing their anger. On the other hand, iniquities committed in secret or else through trickery and cunning are more common among the old than among the young. Twelfth, the old show mercy towards others but for reasons different from those of the young. The young show mercy towards people because they love them or else because they are ready to believe the pleas of those who complain of ill treatment. The old, however, show mercy towards people because of their own weakness, because they bear injury with patience and because they fear that if they are unjust to others, this may be taken as cause by others to oppress or restrain them. 35. Education of the young (excerpts) Ghazali (d. 1111), a theologian and mystic of immense originality and influence, was a towering figure of pre-modern Islamic culture. Educating the young is a matter of the utmost importance. The young are placed in trust with their parents. The heart of the young is pure, like a simple precious stone that bears no engraving or image. It can therefore display any engraving and turn in any direction to which it is turned. If it is accustomed to, or taught, virtue the young heart will grow to be happy in this world and the next. If accustomed to vice, or neglected like some wretched animal, the young will grow to be miserable and lost. Parents should discipline their children, teach them good manners and virtue, protect them from evil companions, and not accustom them to luxury. When parents begin to detect discernment in a child, they should observe him carefully. The first trait to appear is shyness and modesty. If the child displays modesty and refrains from certain acts, this is a sign that the light of reason is beginning to shine upon him. The shy and modest child should not be ignored but these traits should be exploited in bringing him up and educating him. The first dominant trait among children is love of food. This is where the child needs discipline: he should be made to eat with his right hand, to pronounce the name of God before eating, to eat only the food closest to him, not to eat first, not to stare at food or at others eating, to eat slowly and chew the food well, to eat stale bread occasionally, and to understand that excess of food is bad. Where clothing is concerned he should be made to prefer white clothes to coloured or silken ones. The child should be prevented from consorting with other children accustomed to luxury and fine garments. In elementary school he should be taught the Qurʾan and stories of virtuous people. He should not be exposed to love poetry, and should be prevented from associating with men of

p sy chol ogy    39 sort of depravity either from themselves or from others over and over again. Familiarity breeds little regard for the impact of their insolence on others. Ninth, their hope for the good things of life is lessened due to their cowardice and their fear of poverty if they spend money. This is because they have witnessed with their own eyes that deprivation and failure are common among mankind. Hence their fear and sorrow increase and their moments of joy are rare. Tenth, their anger is sharp but feeble. It is sharp because their humour resembles that of the sick, and just as the sick person is quick to anger, so too the old. As for feebleness, their dominant cowardice and fear prevents them from taking anger to its limits. Eleventh, we stated earlier that the young openly advertise their iniquity, but the old have no desire to do so. This is because cold predominates among their humours, thus engendering cowardice and fear, and these in turn prevent them from showing their anger. On the other hand, iniquities committed in secret or else through trickery and cunning are more common among the old than among the young. Twelfth, the old show mercy towards others but for reasons different from those of the young. The young show mercy towards people because they love them or else because they are ready to believe the pleas of those who complain of ill treatment. The old, however, show mercy towards people because of their own weakness, because they bear injury with patience and because they fear that if they are unjust to others, this may be taken as cause by others to oppress or restrain them. 35. Education of the young (excerpts) Ghazali (d. 1111), a theologian and mystic of immense originality and influence, was a towering figure of pre-modern Islamic culture. Educating the young is a matter of the utmost importance. The young are placed in trust with their parents. The heart of the young is pure, like a simple precious stone that bears no engraving or image. It can therefore display any engraving and turn in any direction to which it is turned. If it is accustomed to, or taught, virtue the young heart will grow to be happy in this world and the next. If accustomed to vice, or neglected like some wretched animal, the young will grow to be miserable and lost. Parents should discipline their children, teach them good manners and virtue, protect them from evil companions, and not accustom them to luxury. When parents begin to detect discernment in a child, they should observe him carefully. The first trait to appear is shyness and modesty. If the child displays modesty and refrains from certain acts, this is a sign that the light of reason is beginning to shine upon him. The shy and modest child should not be ignored but these traits should be exploited in bringing him up and educating him. The first dominant trait among children is love of food. This is where the child needs discipline: he should be made to eat with his right hand, to pronounce the name of God before eating, to eat only the food closest to him, not to eat first, not to stare at food or at others eating, to eat slowly and chew the food well, to eat stale bread occasionally, and to understand that excess of food is bad. Where clothing is concerned he should be made to prefer white clothes to coloured or silken ones. The child should be prevented from consorting with other children accustomed to luxury and fine garments. In elementary school he should be taught the Qurʾan and stories of virtuous people. He should not be exposed to love poetry, and should be prevented from associating with men of

40  p a r t i , sectio n ii letters who think that this sort of poetry is charming and delicate. The seeds of corruption are thereby sown in a child’s heart. If the child displays a laudable trait or does a laudable act, he must be praised and rewarded, and this should be publicised among people. If the child under certain circumstances and for one time only contravenes good behaviour, he should be ignored and his misdemeanour should not be exposed, particularly if the child himself is eager to hide his misconduct. For if that misconduct is made public the child might react by becoming bolder to the point where he does not care if his misconduct becomes known. But parents must not repeatedly reprimand a child because then the reprimand itself will have no effect on him. A child must be prevented from sleeping in daytime since this breeds laziness. He must be accustomed to roughness in furniture, clothes and food. In daytime he should be accustomed to walking, running and exercise, to prevent laziness. He must be prevented from boasting to his friends of his parents’ property or his own clothes or writing board and pen, but be taught modesty and respect towards all associates. He must be taught that nobility consists in giving rather than taking. Children should be taught to despise greed for gold and silver. A child must not spit or blow his nose or yawn in public, must not place one leg over another, nor support his head in his hands, for this is a sign of lethargy. He must be taught how to sit and not to talk much, for that is a sign of impudence. He should be prevented from starting a conversation and taught to respond only when addressed and as is appropriate to the question he is asked. He should listen to his elders when they speak and, if seated, should rise and give them his seat. He should be prevented from swearing and foul speech and from associating with other children who do so, since the very basis of child education is to keep the child away from evil companions. If a teacher beats him, he should not yell and scream but must take it like a man. Once out of school, he should play seemly games that relieve him from the hardship of schooling. If a child is exhausted from study but is prevented from playing, his heart and mind will grow sluggish and unhappy. He must be taught obedience to parents, teachers, tutors and others older than himself. The most important of educational principles is that a child by nature can veer towards either good or evil. It is his parents who will determine in which direction he will go. 36. Firasa (physiognomy) (excerpts) Fakhr al-Din al-Razi Know that indicators of psychic conditions derived from the face are more definite than indicators derived from all other bodily members. The reasons are as follows: 1. A human being derives his humanity from his understanding, reason and memory. The seat of all these activities is the brain. The head is, as it were, the hermit’s cell of the senses and the site of learning, memory and thinking. This indicates that the head is the most pertinent bodily member in which psychic effects may be observed. Therefore the conditions of the head are the most perfect indicators of psychic effects. 2. The perfection of the body is caused by beauty while its imperfection is caused by ugliness, and the seat of beauty and ugliness can only be the face. Other bodily members and their beauty or ugliness are not significant when compared to the face. 3. The outward conditions of the face strongly indicate inward moral character. Thus, for instance, shyness has one particular facial colour, fear has another, anger a third, joy a

40  p a r t i , sectio n ii letters who think that this sort of poetry is charming and delicate. The seeds of corruption are thereby sown in a child’s heart. If the child displays a laudable trait or does a laudable act, he must be praised and rewarded, and this should be publicised among people. If the child under certain circumstances and for one time only contravenes good behaviour, he should be ignored and his misdemeanour should not be exposed, particularly if the child himself is eager to hide his misconduct. For if that misconduct is made public the child might react by becoming bolder to the point where he does not care if his misconduct becomes known. But parents must not repeatedly reprimand a child because then the reprimand itself will have no effect on him. A child must be prevented from sleeping in daytime since this breeds laziness. He must be accustomed to roughness in furniture, clothes and food. In daytime he should be accustomed to walking, running and exercise, to prevent laziness. He must be prevented from boasting to his friends of his parents’ property or his own clothes or writing board and pen, but be taught modesty and respect towards all associates. He must be taught that nobility consists in giving rather than taking. Children should be taught to despise greed for gold and silver. A child must not spit or blow his nose or yawn in public, must not place one leg over another, nor support his head in his hands, for this is a sign of lethargy. He must be taught how to sit and not to talk much, for that is a sign of impudence. He should be prevented from starting a conversation and taught to respond only when addressed and as is appropriate to the question he is asked. He should listen to his elders when they speak and, if seated, should rise and give them his seat. He should be prevented from swearing and foul speech and from associating with other children who do so, since the very basis of child education is to keep the child away from evil companions. If a teacher beats him, he should not yell and scream but must take it like a man. Once out of school, he should play seemly games that relieve him from the hardship of schooling. If a child is exhausted from study but is prevented from playing, his heart and mind will grow sluggish and unhappy. He must be taught obedience to parents, teachers, tutors and others older than himself. The most important of educational principles is that a child by nature can veer towards either good or evil. It is his parents who will determine in which direction he will go. 36. Firasa (physiognomy) (excerpts) Fakhr al-Din al-Razi Know that indicators of psychic conditions derived from the face are more definite than indicators derived from all other bodily members. The reasons are as follows: 1. A human being derives his humanity from his understanding, reason and memory. The seat of all these activities is the brain. The head is, as it were, the hermit’s cell of the senses and the site of learning, memory and thinking. This indicates that the head is the most pertinent bodily member in which psychic effects may be observed. Therefore the conditions of the head are the most perfect indicators of psychic effects. 2. The perfection of the body is caused by beauty while its imperfection is caused by ugliness, and the seat of beauty and ugliness can only be the face. Other bodily members and their beauty or ugliness are not significant when compared to the face. 3. The outward conditions of the face strongly indicate inward moral character. Thus, for instance, shyness has one particular facial colour, fear has another, anger a third, joy a

p sy chol ogy    41 fourth and so on. When these colours are observed in a face this enhances them as indicators of inward moral character and psychic conditions. We have now determined that the indicators derived from the outward appearances of the head are more comprehensive and complete than those derived from the outward appearances of all other members. We now add that the features found on the face are as follows: the forehead, eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, mouth, tongue, teeth, chin and ears. Let us now turn to these features. The forehead: (a) If the forehead is wrinkled at its centre, this indicates anger, because the forehead of an angry man is so wrinkled. (b) If the forehead is narrow, this indicates foolishness and ignorance, because it connotes that the first inner chamber of the brain is small when compared to the size it should be. This necessarily means a defect in brain activities like memory and understanding. (c) A large and extensive forehead denotes laziness or anger, since a large forehead size might connote the presence of too much matter, producing laziness, or might connote excessive brain heat, necessitating a widening of orifices, thus producing anger. (d) A forehead with many wrinkles indicates conceit and boastfulness. (e) A forehead with no wrinkles indicates quarrelsomeness. The eyebrows: (a) Very bushy eyebrows indicate a person much given to anxiety and sorrows. This is because hair formation issues from vaporous matter. The thickness of the eyebrows indicates an excess of vaporous matter in the brain, and thus a predominance of melancholy in the  brain, leading to anxiety and sorrow. (b) If the eyebrows are long, reaching to the temples, the person is arrogant and boastful. (c) If the end nearest the nose inclines downwards while the other nearest the temple inclines upwards, this indicates arrogance and stupidity. The eyes: The conditions of the eyes are considered from several viewpoints. They may be considered with respect to size, whether large or small; or to physical description, whether protruding or sunken; or to colour, that is their dark or other colours; or to the eyelids, whether thick, thin, straight, upturned, or blinking much or little; or to the rapid or slow movement of the pupil; or to conditions of the inner corner of the eye; or to resemblance to other things; or else to the sum total of these conditions. 1. With respect to indicators derived from size, we assert that large eyes indicate laziness. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of bulls. In addition, large eyes indicate an excess of humid matter in the brain, which necessitates stupidity. 2. As regards indicators from a physical description of the eye, protruding eyes indicate an ignorant and garrulous person. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of donkeys. 3. Sunken eyes indicate malice. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of monkeys. Since both protruding and sunken eyes indicate reprehensible characteristics, the best condition is a mean between the two. 4. Sunken eyes may also indicate nobility of character. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of a lion. 5. As regards indicators from eye colour: (a) A very dark pupil indicates cowardice, because the dark colour connotes cowardice and because it also connotes the presence of

42  p a r t i , sectio n ii ­ elancholic matter, thus necessitating cowardice. (b) If the eye is red like live coals the m person is prone to anger and courage, because the eye of a person when angry assumes this colour. (c) A blue or light-coloured eye indicates cowardice because a light colour connotes a predominance of phlegm. (d) An eye colour resembling sherbet denotes ignorance. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of sheep. (e) Prominent eyes connote insolence. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of a dog. (f) Eyes that are yellow in colour and perturbed denote cowardice because the eyes of a person gripped with cowardice assume this colour. (g) A blue eye intermixed with yellow as if dyed with saffron denotes low morality. This is because blue eyes indicate laziness while the yellow colour indicates cowardice and fear. When present together these colours cause confused conditions. (h) The presence of many spots in the eye around the pupil indicates malice. If these are present in a blue eye, the malice is even greater. (i) Eyes that are bright and glowing indicate lust. This indicator is derived from similarity to the eyes of roosters and crows. (j) The best eye colour is bluish-black because this is half way between black and blue or green. The nose: (a) A thick and full nose indicates little understanding. This indicator is derived from similarity to bulls. (b) A thin nose tip indicates quarrelsomeness. (c) A snub nose indicates lust. This indicator is derived from similarity to camel snouts. (d) Wide nostrils connote anger. (e) An arched nose indicates nobility. This indicator is derived from similarity to an eagle. The mouth: (a) A wide mouth connotes gluttony and courage. (b) Thick lips, especially if dangling, connote foolishness, anger and crudeness. (c) A narrow mouth connotes proneness to disease. (d) Thin lips that meet in a flaccid manner where the upper lip slightly overhangs the lower indicates nobility. The face: (a) A fleshy face denotes laziness and ignorance. (b) Fleshy cheeks denote crudeness. (c) A thin face denotes a person much concerned with thought. (d) A round face denotes ignorance and lack of self-respect. (e) A very large face denotes laziness. (f) A small face denotes malice and flattery. (g) An ugly face rarely denotes good character. (h) A long face denotes insolence.

f ore ign l ands   43

F o reig n la nds 37. England Ibn Saʿid al-Maghribi (d. 1286), poet and scholar, was born near Granada in Muslim Spain to a learned and knightly family. He travelled widely and died in Damascus. In this clime, the first land you meet is the island of Bella, a small inhabited island where wars are constant between the king of England and the ruler of Brittany because the island lies at the frontier between the two realms. From north to south, and inclining to the east, it measures a hundred miles. It is said that in it there are trees from which birds fly out that resemble chicken. This is a well-known fact among the Franks, just as, among the Turks, it is well known that there are gourds from which sheep issue forth. To the east of this island is the island of England [Inkiltirra]. This island is ruled by kings, one of whom is mentioned in the histories of Saladin, in connection with the wars around Acre. His capital is the city of London [Lundris], where longitude is 22 degrees and 20 minutes and latitude is 48 degrees and 15 minutes. Part of this island falls in the seventh clime. It has large cities and fortified castles which are little known among us. From south to north this island measures approximately 430 miles in length with inclination to west and east. At its widest in the centre it measures around 200 miles. In this island are found gold, silver, copper and tin mines. It has no vineyards because of the extreme cold. This is why its inhabitants are in the habit of transporting these metals by sea and entering France, where they barter the metals for wine. Because of this trade, the king of France has amassed much gold and silver. In that island they fabricate a most expensive cloth called ‘scarlet’ or ‘escarlette’; in it too are sheep with wool soft as silk, which they cover with blankets to protect them from the rain and dust. Despite the wealth of the king of England and the wide extent of his domains, he nonetheless pays homage to the king of the French. Whenever they are together at a formal assembly, the English king serves the French king by placing before him a bowl of food. This is a hereditary custom. 38. The land of the Franks Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini (d. 1283) was born in Qazwin and travelled to Damascus. He was a judge in Iraq and witnessed the Mongol invasions. A historian and geographer, he is sometimes called the ‘Arab Pliny’. A great land and wide kingdom in the territory of the Christians. The cold there is very severe and the air is thick because of the cold. It has many natural resources and plenty of fruits and crops, with very many rivers and abundant produce, farms, flocks, trees, honey and diverse kinds of hunt. In it too are silver mines, and in it are fabricated swords of very great sharpness, sharper than the swords of India. Its people are Christians. They have a powerful king with many troops and a strong state. He possesses two or three cities on the coast, this side of the frontier [with Spain], and right in the midst of Muslim territory. He protects these cities from the other side of the frontier. Whenever the Muslims send out a military expedition to occupy these cities, he sends out from the other side a force to protect them. His soldiers possess great courage and never contemplate retreat when engaged in battle, preferring to die rather than turn tail. However, you will not find a dirtier people or one more treacherous and vicious. They neither clean

f ore ign l ands   43

F o reig n la nds 37. England Ibn Saʿid al-Maghribi (d. 1286), poet and scholar, was born near Granada in Muslim Spain to a learned and knightly family. He travelled widely and died in Damascus. In this clime, the first land you meet is the island of Bella, a small inhabited island where wars are constant between the king of England and the ruler of Brittany because the island lies at the frontier between the two realms. From north to south, and inclining to the east, it measures a hundred miles. It is said that in it there are trees from which birds fly out that resemble chicken. This is a well-known fact among the Franks, just as, among the Turks, it is well known that there are gourds from which sheep issue forth. To the east of this island is the island of England [Inkiltirra]. This island is ruled by kings, one of whom is mentioned in the histories of Saladin, in connection with the wars around Acre. His capital is the city of London [Lundris], where longitude is 22 degrees and 20 minutes and latitude is 48 degrees and 15 minutes. Part of this island falls in the seventh clime. It has large cities and fortified castles which are little known among us. From south to north this island measures approximately 430 miles in length with inclination to west and east. At its widest in the centre it measures around 200 miles. In this island are found gold, silver, copper and tin mines. It has no vineyards because of the extreme cold. This is why its inhabitants are in the habit of transporting these metals by sea and entering France, where they barter the metals for wine. Because of this trade, the king of France has amassed much gold and silver. In that island they fabricate a most expensive cloth called ‘scarlet’ or ‘escarlette’; in it too are sheep with wool soft as silk, which they cover with blankets to protect them from the rain and dust. Despite the wealth of the king of England and the wide extent of his domains, he nonetheless pays homage to the king of the French. Whenever they are together at a formal assembly, the English king serves the French king by placing before him a bowl of food. This is a hereditary custom. 38. The land of the Franks Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini (d. 1283) was born in Qazwin and travelled to Damascus. He was a judge in Iraq and witnessed the Mongol invasions. A historian and geographer, he is sometimes called the ‘Arab Pliny’. A great land and wide kingdom in the territory of the Christians. The cold there is very severe and the air is thick because of the cold. It has many natural resources and plenty of fruits and crops, with very many rivers and abundant produce, farms, flocks, trees, honey and diverse kinds of hunt. In it too are silver mines, and in it are fabricated swords of very great sharpness, sharper than the swords of India. Its people are Christians. They have a powerful king with many troops and a strong state. He possesses two or three cities on the coast, this side of the frontier [with Spain], and right in the midst of Muslim territory. He protects these cities from the other side of the frontier. Whenever the Muslims send out a military expedition to occupy these cities, he sends out from the other side a force to protect them. His soldiers possess great courage and never contemplate retreat when engaged in battle, preferring to die rather than turn tail. However, you will not find a dirtier people or one more treacherous and vicious. They neither clean

44  p a r t i , sectio n ii t­hemselves nor bathe except once or twice a year and in cold water, and do not wash their clothes from the moment they wear them till they turn into rags. They shave their beards which then grow again, rough and ugly to look at. One of them was once asked about the shaving of their beards and responded: ‘Hair is a residue that you remove from your private parts, so why do you expect us to leave it on our faces?’ 39. Ireland Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini This is an island in the north-western part of the sixth clime. Al-ʿUdhri [d. 1085] said: ‘The Magians1 have no other stronghold throughout the world except in this island.’ Its circuit is one thousand miles. Its people are Magians in custom and dress. They wear cloaks valued at a thousand dinars2 each, while their nobility wear cloaks studded with precious stones. It is said that along its coasts they hunt young whales [iblina3], a species of fish of enormous size. They hunt the cubs and eat their meat. These cubs, it is said, are born in the month of September and are hunted only during the four months of October, November, December and January. Thereafter, their meat turns hard and inedible. As to the manner of hunting these cubs, al-ʿUdhri states that the hunters gather in boats and carry with them a large iron hook with sharp teeth. Attached to the hook is a big strong noose and in the noose is a strong rope. When they come up to a cub, they clap their hands and shout. The cub finds the clapping agreeable and draws near to the boats, finding them congenial. At this point, a mariner approaches the cub, and rubs its forehead vigorously, something which the cub finds pleasurable. He then places the hook above the middle of its head, picks up a strong hammer, and strikes the hook three mighty blows. The cub does not feel the first and second blows. At the third blow, it becomes very agitated and may sometimes strike one of the boats with its tail, destroying it. It continues to writhe until overcome by exhaustion. The boatmen then join together to drag it to shore. It sometimes happens that the cub’s mother senses the trouble her cub is in, and follows the boats. For this eventuality they prepare a large quantity of powdered garlic which they scatter and stir into the water. When the mother smells the garlic she finds it repulsive and retreats. They then cut up the meat of the cub and salt it. Its meat is white as snow but the skin is black as ink. 11

40. A medieval Lilliput Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini I once met a man from Rome who narrated the following story: I went on board a ship which was later shipwrecked. I hung for dear life to a plank and the waves drove me to the shores of an island. Eventually I made my way to a town whose inhabitants were 12 inches tall, and most of whom had only one eye. A crowd of them gathered around me and led me to their king who ordered that I be imprisoned. So they

1

Magians: a reference perhaps to the Norse invasions. 2 Dinar: a gold coin. 3 Iblina: cf. French baleine.

44  p a r t i , sectio n ii t­hemselves nor bathe except once or twice a year and in cold water, and do not wash their clothes from the moment they wear them till they turn into rags. They shave their beards which then grow again, rough and ugly to look at. One of them was once asked about the shaving of their beards and responded: ‘Hair is a residue that you remove from your private parts, so why do you expect us to leave it on our faces?’ 39. Ireland Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini This is an island in the north-western part of the sixth clime. Al-ʿUdhri [d. 1085] said: ‘The Magians1 have no other stronghold throughout the world except in this island.’ Its circuit is one thousand miles. Its people are Magians in custom and dress. They wear cloaks valued at a thousand dinars2 each, while their nobility wear cloaks studded with precious stones. It is said that along its coasts they hunt young whales [iblina3], a species of fish of enormous size. They hunt the cubs and eat their meat. These cubs, it is said, are born in the month of September and are hunted only during the four months of October, November, December and January. Thereafter, their meat turns hard and inedible. As to the manner of hunting these cubs, al-ʿUdhri states that the hunters gather in boats and carry with them a large iron hook with sharp teeth. Attached to the hook is a big strong noose and in the noose is a strong rope. When they come up to a cub, they clap their hands and shout. The cub finds the clapping agreeable and draws near to the boats, finding them congenial. At this point, a mariner approaches the cub, and rubs its forehead vigorously, something which the cub finds pleasurable. He then places the hook above the middle of its head, picks up a strong hammer, and strikes the hook three mighty blows. The cub does not feel the first and second blows. At the third blow, it becomes very agitated and may sometimes strike one of the boats with its tail, destroying it. It continues to writhe until overcome by exhaustion. The boatmen then join together to drag it to shore. It sometimes happens that the cub’s mother senses the trouble her cub is in, and follows the boats. For this eventuality they prepare a large quantity of powdered garlic which they scatter and stir into the water. When the mother smells the garlic she finds it repulsive and retreats. They then cut up the meat of the cub and salt it. Its meat is white as snow but the skin is black as ink. 11

40. A medieval Lilliput Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini I once met a man from Rome who narrated the following story: I went on board a ship which was later shipwrecked. I hung for dear life to a plank and the waves drove me to the shores of an island. Eventually I made my way to a town whose inhabitants were 12 inches tall, and most of whom had only one eye. A crowd of them gathered around me and led me to their king who ordered that I be imprisoned. So they

1

Magians: a reference perhaps to the Norse invasions. 2 Dinar: a gold coin. 3 Iblina: cf. French baleine.

44  p a r t i , sectio n ii t­hemselves nor bathe except once or twice a year and in cold water, and do not wash their clothes from the moment they wear them till they turn into rags. They shave their beards which then grow again, rough and ugly to look at. One of them was once asked about the shaving of their beards and responded: ‘Hair is a residue that you remove from your private parts, so why do you expect us to leave it on our faces?’ 39. Ireland Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini This is an island in the north-western part of the sixth clime. Al-ʿUdhri [d. 1085] said: ‘The Magians1 have no other stronghold throughout the world except in this island.’ Its circuit is one thousand miles. Its people are Magians in custom and dress. They wear cloaks valued at a thousand dinars2 each, while their nobility wear cloaks studded with precious stones. It is said that along its coasts they hunt young whales [iblina3], a species of fish of enormous size. They hunt the cubs and eat their meat. These cubs, it is said, are born in the month of September and are hunted only during the four months of October, November, December and January. Thereafter, their meat turns hard and inedible. As to the manner of hunting these cubs, al-ʿUdhri states that the hunters gather in boats and carry with them a large iron hook with sharp teeth. Attached to the hook is a big strong noose and in the noose is a strong rope. When they come up to a cub, they clap their hands and shout. The cub finds the clapping agreeable and draws near to the boats, finding them congenial. At this point, a mariner approaches the cub, and rubs its forehead vigorously, something which the cub finds pleasurable. He then places the hook above the middle of its head, picks up a strong hammer, and strikes the hook three mighty blows. The cub does not feel the first and second blows. At the third blow, it becomes very agitated and may sometimes strike one of the boats with its tail, destroying it. It continues to writhe until overcome by exhaustion. The boatmen then join together to drag it to shore. It sometimes happens that the cub’s mother senses the trouble her cub is in, and follows the boats. For this eventuality they prepare a large quantity of powdered garlic which they scatter and stir into the water. When the mother smells the garlic she finds it repulsive and retreats. They then cut up the meat of the cub and salt it. Its meat is white as snow but the skin is black as ink. 11

40. A medieval Lilliput Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini I once met a man from Rome who narrated the following story: I went on board a ship which was later shipwrecked. I hung for dear life to a plank and the waves drove me to the shores of an island. Eventually I made my way to a town whose inhabitants were 12 inches tall, and most of whom had only one eye. A crowd of them gathered around me and led me to their king who ordered that I be imprisoned. So they

1

Magians: a reference perhaps to the Norse invasions. 2 Dinar: a gold coin. 3 Iblina: cf. French baleine.

f ore ign l ands   45 marched me off to what looked like a bird-cage, into which they bundled me. But I soon stood up, broke the cage and rejoined them. They granted me safe conduct and I lived among them for a while. One day, I saw them preparing themselves for battle and asked them why they were doing so. They signalled to me that an enemy was accustomed to attack them at that time of year. Soon a troop of cranes appeared and attacked them, and it was clear that their being one-eyed was due to the fact that the cranes had pecked out their other eye. So I picked up a stick and shooed off the cranes which quickly dispersed or flew away. Thereafter I was held in high honour among them. Eventually I found some tree trunks which I fastened together with bark and on which I sailed until the winds carried me back to Rome. 41. Emperor Frederick II (d. 1250) tricks his rivals Ibn Wasil (d. 1298) was born in Hama, Syria. Historian, diplomat and man of letters, he was a major source for Arab history during the Crusader period. When I was an ambassador in their country, I was told a curious story. The imperial rank had once belonged to Frederick’s father. When his father died Frederick was still in his early youth. A group of Frankish kings coveted the imperial title, each wanting the Pope to confer it upon himself. Frederick was a cunning and wicked man, and belonged to the German race, one of the races of the Franks. He arranged to meet the aspirants to the imperial title separately and to each of them he said: ‘I do not desire this title nor am I fit to hold it. When we meet in the Pope’s presence, say to him: “The son of the former emperor should initiate discussion of this matter.” Whomever the Pope is content with to assume the imperial dignity, I too shall be content. Once the Pope delegates the choice to me, I will choose you and no one else. My intention is to attach myself to you and rely on your support.’ Having made this same speech to each of these candidates, they all agreed and placed their trust in him. When they all met with the Pope in Rome, Frederick instructed a group of brave German cavalrymen to be ready and mounted not far from the great church where the conclave was taking place. When the kings assembled, the Pope placed the crown in their midst and asked: ‘What is your view of this rank? Who is most worthy to assume it?’ Each then said: ‘I have delegated Frederick to pronounce on this matter. Whatever he decides I shall accept and comply with, for he is the son of the previous emperor and has the most right to be heard first on this matter.’ Frederick then stood up and said: ‘I am the son of the emperor and the one most worthy of his rank and crown. The others have all accepted and chosen me.’ He then placed the crown on his head and they were all crestfallen. He hurried out still wearing the crown, mounted his horse and rode away with the German troop whom he had stationed near the church, galloping at full speed back to his country. Thereafter, he committed certain acts which, in accordance with their beliefs, necessitated his excommunication by the Pope, and he was excommunicated. I was told that when the emperor was in Acre, he asked the emir Fakhr al-Din ibn alShaykh: ‘Tell me about this caliph of yours, what is his lineage?’ Fakhr al-Din answered: ‘He is the cousin of our Prophet Muhammad, upon whom blessings and peace. He inherited the caliphate from his father, and his father from his grandfather. The line of caliphs is continuous in the family of the Prophet and is confined to them.’ The emperor said: ‘What a wonderful arrangement! But look at these feeble-minded people’ – he meant the Franks – ‘they take someone from the dung-heap, with no connection whatever to Christ, an ignorant and

f ore ign l ands   45 marched me off to what looked like a bird-cage, into which they bundled me. But I soon stood up, broke the cage and rejoined them. They granted me safe conduct and I lived among them for a while. One day, I saw them preparing themselves for battle and asked them why they were doing so. They signalled to me that an enemy was accustomed to attack them at that time of year. Soon a troop of cranes appeared and attacked them, and it was clear that their being one-eyed was due to the fact that the cranes had pecked out their other eye. So I picked up a stick and shooed off the cranes which quickly dispersed or flew away. Thereafter I was held in high honour among them. Eventually I found some tree trunks which I fastened together with bark and on which I sailed until the winds carried me back to Rome. 41. Emperor Frederick II (d. 1250) tricks his rivals Ibn Wasil (d. 1298) was born in Hama, Syria. Historian, diplomat and man of letters, he was a major source for Arab history during the Crusader period. When I was an ambassador in their country, I was told a curious story. The imperial rank had once belonged to Frederick’s father. When his father died Frederick was still in his early youth. A group of Frankish kings coveted the imperial title, each wanting the Pope to confer it upon himself. Frederick was a cunning and wicked man, and belonged to the German race, one of the races of the Franks. He arranged to meet the aspirants to the imperial title separately and to each of them he said: ‘I do not desire this title nor am I fit to hold it. When we meet in the Pope’s presence, say to him: “The son of the former emperor should initiate discussion of this matter.” Whomever the Pope is content with to assume the imperial dignity, I too shall be content. Once the Pope delegates the choice to me, I will choose you and no one else. My intention is to attach myself to you and rely on your support.’ Having made this same speech to each of these candidates, they all agreed and placed their trust in him. When they all met with the Pope in Rome, Frederick instructed a group of brave German cavalrymen to be ready and mounted not far from the great church where the conclave was taking place. When the kings assembled, the Pope placed the crown in their midst and asked: ‘What is your view of this rank? Who is most worthy to assume it?’ Each then said: ‘I have delegated Frederick to pronounce on this matter. Whatever he decides I shall accept and comply with, for he is the son of the previous emperor and has the most right to be heard first on this matter.’ Frederick then stood up and said: ‘I am the son of the emperor and the one most worthy of his rank and crown. The others have all accepted and chosen me.’ He then placed the crown on his head and they were all crestfallen. He hurried out still wearing the crown, mounted his horse and rode away with the German troop whom he had stationed near the church, galloping at full speed back to his country. Thereafter, he committed certain acts which, in accordance with their beliefs, necessitated his excommunication by the Pope, and he was excommunicated. I was told that when the emperor was in Acre, he asked the emir Fakhr al-Din ibn alShaykh: ‘Tell me about this caliph of yours, what is his lineage?’ Fakhr al-Din answered: ‘He is the cousin of our Prophet Muhammad, upon whom blessings and peace. He inherited the caliphate from his father, and his father from his grandfather. The line of caliphs is continuous in the family of the Prophet and is confined to them.’ The emperor said: ‘What a wonderful arrangement! But look at these feeble-minded people’ – he meant the Franks – ‘they take someone from the dung-heap, with no connection whatever to Christ, an ignorant and

46  p a r t i , sectio n ii boorish fellow, and they set him up as a caliph over them, taking the place of Christ among them. Your caliph on the other hand is the cousin of your Prophet, and the most worthy person to occupy this rank.’ 42. Propaganda during the Third Crusade, 1190 Abu Shama (d. 1268) was born in Damascus and spent his life there as a teacher, scholar and ­historian. He is a major source for the history of Saladin and his era. As for the king of the Germans [Frederick of Swabia, d. 1147], once he had consolidated his power in Antioch, he proceeded to wrest it away from its ruler. This latter had submitted to him and carried out all his orders, but the German king used trickery and cunning to take Antioch away from him and add it to his dominions. On 15 Rajab [18 August 1190] he marched on Acre with his armies, following the Latakiya road until he arrived in Tripoli. Marching northwards to meet him was the Marquis of Tyre [Conrad of Montferrat], a man of great guile and courage. It was he who had originally excited the greatest passions among the European masses. This is because he had ordered to be painted a very large picture of Jerusalem which included a picture of the Church of the Resurrection, to which they make pilgrimage and which they greatly revere. In this church is found the tomb in which Christ was buried following his alleged crucifixion. That tomb is the most important point of their pilgrimage and upon it, they believe, light descends once a year during one of their feast days. So the marquis had that tomb painted, and above it a Muslim knight riding his horse and trampling down the tomb, with the horse urinating on the tomb. He had these pictures exhibited overseas in their markets and meeting places, with bare-headed priests carrying them aloft, wearing hair shirts and crying out for revenge. Icons and pictures have a profound effect on them for they are central to their religion. As a result, countless souls were stirred, among them the German king and his soldiers. So the marquis came out to meet them because it was he who had been instrumental in ­summoning them. 43. A Byzantine emperor’s finery Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr died in the late 11th century; virtually nothing else is known about his life. Abuʾl Fadl Ibrahim ibn ʿAli al-Kafrtabi told me, in the town of Dimyat, and upon his return from Constantinople, in the year 1071, that he saw the then Byzantine emperor, Romanos IV Diogenes [d. 1072], on the occasion of their great feast day. Upon him was a robe that their kings wear with the greatest difficulty. They can neither carry it nor sit while wearing it because of its massive weight and because they are too weak to do so. He said that it contains thirty thousand pearls, each pearl weighing one mithqal,1 that it was priceless, and that there is nothing like it upon this earth. He also told me that it is the custom for their rulers while travelling to wear clothes for display wreathed with jewels and pearls of all kinds. Each robe is valued at two hundred thou12

1

Mithqal: approximately 5 grams.

46  p a r t i , sectio n ii boorish fellow, and they set him up as a caliph over them, taking the place of Christ among them. Your caliph on the other hand is the cousin of your Prophet, and the most worthy person to occupy this rank.’ 42. Propaganda during the Third Crusade, 1190 Abu Shama (d. 1268) was born in Damascus and spent his life there as a teacher, scholar and ­historian. He is a major source for the history of Saladin and his era. As for the king of the Germans [Frederick of Swabia, d. 1147], once he had consolidated his power in Antioch, he proceeded to wrest it away from its ruler. This latter had submitted to him and carried out all his orders, but the German king used trickery and cunning to take Antioch away from him and add it to his dominions. On 15 Rajab [18 August 1190] he marched on Acre with his armies, following the Latakiya road until he arrived in Tripoli. Marching northwards to meet him was the Marquis of Tyre [Conrad of Montferrat], a man of great guile and courage. It was he who had originally excited the greatest passions among the European masses. This is because he had ordered to be painted a very large picture of Jerusalem which included a picture of the Church of the Resurrection, to which they make pilgrimage and which they greatly revere. In this church is found the tomb in which Christ was buried following his alleged crucifixion. That tomb is the most important point of their pilgrimage and upon it, they believe, light descends once a year during one of their feast days. So the marquis had that tomb painted, and above it a Muslim knight riding his horse and trampling down the tomb, with the horse urinating on the tomb. He had these pictures exhibited overseas in their markets and meeting places, with bare-headed priests carrying them aloft, wearing hair shirts and crying out for revenge. Icons and pictures have a profound effect on them for they are central to their religion. As a result, countless souls were stirred, among them the German king and his soldiers. So the marquis came out to meet them because it was he who had been instrumental in ­summoning them. 43. A Byzantine emperor’s finery Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr died in the late 11th century; virtually nothing else is known about his life. Abuʾl Fadl Ibrahim ibn ʿAli al-Kafrtabi told me, in the town of Dimyat, and upon his return from Constantinople, in the year 1071, that he saw the then Byzantine emperor, Romanos IV Diogenes [d. 1072], on the occasion of their great feast day. Upon him was a robe that their kings wear with the greatest difficulty. They can neither carry it nor sit while wearing it because of its massive weight and because they are too weak to do so. He said that it contains thirty thousand pearls, each pearl weighing one mithqal,1 that it was priceless, and that there is nothing like it upon this earth. He also told me that it is the custom for their rulers while travelling to wear clothes for display wreathed with jewels and pearls of all kinds. Each robe is valued at two hundred thou12

1

Mithqal: approximately 5 grams.

46  p a r t i , sectio n ii boorish fellow, and they set him up as a caliph over them, taking the place of Christ among them. Your caliph on the other hand is the cousin of your Prophet, and the most worthy person to occupy this rank.’ 42. Propaganda during the Third Crusade, 1190 Abu Shama (d. 1268) was born in Damascus and spent his life there as a teacher, scholar and ­historian. He is a major source for the history of Saladin and his era. As for the king of the Germans [Frederick of Swabia, d. 1147], once he had consolidated his power in Antioch, he proceeded to wrest it away from its ruler. This latter had submitted to him and carried out all his orders, but the German king used trickery and cunning to take Antioch away from him and add it to his dominions. On 15 Rajab [18 August 1190] he marched on Acre with his armies, following the Latakiya road until he arrived in Tripoli. Marching northwards to meet him was the Marquis of Tyre [Conrad of Montferrat], a man of great guile and courage. It was he who had originally excited the greatest passions among the European masses. This is because he had ordered to be painted a very large picture of Jerusalem which included a picture of the Church of the Resurrection, to which they make pilgrimage and which they greatly revere. In this church is found the tomb in which Christ was buried following his alleged crucifixion. That tomb is the most important point of their pilgrimage and upon it, they believe, light descends once a year during one of their feast days. So the marquis had that tomb painted, and above it a Muslim knight riding his horse and trampling down the tomb, with the horse urinating on the tomb. He had these pictures exhibited overseas in their markets and meeting places, with bare-headed priests carrying them aloft, wearing hair shirts and crying out for revenge. Icons and pictures have a profound effect on them for they are central to their religion. As a result, countless souls were stirred, among them the German king and his soldiers. So the marquis came out to meet them because it was he who had been instrumental in ­summoning them. 43. A Byzantine emperor’s finery Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr died in the late 11th century; virtually nothing else is known about his life. Abuʾl Fadl Ibrahim ibn ʿAli al-Kafrtabi told me, in the town of Dimyat, and upon his return from Constantinople, in the year 1071, that he saw the then Byzantine emperor, Romanos IV Diogenes [d. 1072], on the occasion of their great feast day. Upon him was a robe that their kings wear with the greatest difficulty. They can neither carry it nor sit while wearing it because of its massive weight and because they are too weak to do so. He said that it contains thirty thousand pearls, each pearl weighing one mithqal,1 that it was priceless, and that there is nothing like it upon this earth. He also told me that it is the custom for their rulers while travelling to wear clothes for display wreathed with jewels and pearls of all kinds. Each robe is valued at two hundred thou12

1

Mithqal: approximately 5 grams.

f ore ign l ands   47 sand dinars,1 or more or less. He also saw the emperor Michael most often wearing some of these diverse robes while travelling with his army. He further informed me that the Byzantine emperors possess crowns which are worn on various occasions, among which is the great crown made of gold and garlanded with all kinds of sapphires and jewels. This is placed on the emperor’s head in the audience chamber where he receives the people of his kingdom as well the ambassadors of foreign kings. Another crown is the well-known one which the emperor dons as he arrives back from an expedition when victorious over his enemy. This is studded with jewels and has a crest on its front made of red rubies. The emperor sits on the throne of his kingdom, which is made of gold studded with jewels, or upon a dais of studded gold, with his legs always hanging down from the throne or dais to a high cushion made of heavy silk brocade upon which his legs are placed. On his feet he wears a pair of red slippers, which can only be worn by the emperor. Those below him in rank wear one red and one black slipper. Abuʾl Fadl told me that he saw there a piece of amber as large as a large camel, placed in the middle of a great platform. 44. Diplomacy: embassy of Queen Bertha, daughter of Lothar Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr In the year 293 ah [905/6 ad], Bertha, daughter of Lothar, Queen of the Franks and other subject territories, sent Caliph al-Muktafi Billah [reigned 902–8] the following gifts with ʿAli al-Khadim, an agent of Ziyadat Allah b. al-Aghlab: fifty swords, fifty shields, fifty Frankish spears, twenty garments woven with gold thread, twenty Slav male slaves, twenty Slav female slaves, fair and gentle in bearing, twenty large dogs which no wild animal or any other creature can withstand, seven falcons, seven hawks, a silk loom complete with all its implements, and twenty garments made of a wool2 found in a kind of shell extracted from their sea when the tide runs out. This garment assumes all colours like the rainbow and takes on a different hue each hour of the day. In addition, the gifts included three birds found only in the land of the Franks which, when they see poisoned food or drink, utter a loud and ugly screech and beat their wings until their warning is recognised; and beads which magnetically draw out arrowheads even after the flesh has closed in upon them, and without causing pain. ʿAli al-Khadim brought these gifts from the Queen of the Franks together with a letter to al-Muktafi. There was also a message from her not included in the letter so that none but the caliph would know its contents. The letter itself was written on white silk and the writing resembled the Byzantine script but was more upright. The private message asked for marriage with al-Muktafi and a bond of love. The reason this messenger ʿAli ended up with the Frankish queen is that he had once been in the retinue of Ibn al-Aghlab, ruler of North Africa. He had dispatched him in a fleet he employed to raid the Frankish and Byzantine realms. ʿAli fell prisoner in the queen’s hands and she subsequently attached him to herself and made him her special servant. He stayed with her for many years. She then sent him to al-Muktafi with a letter written in the Frankish language. This arrived when the caliph was out hunting in the region of Samarra. Abu ʿAbdullah al-Isfahani told me: ‘I was in the camp of al-Muktafi, where I had gone in the company of the vizier Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Hasan. The caliph asked for someone to 13

1

Dinar: a gold coin. 2 Wool: possibly a reference to sea silk.

f ore ign l ands   47 sand dinars,1 or more or less. He also saw the emperor Michael most often wearing some of these diverse robes while travelling with his army. He further informed me that the Byzantine emperors possess crowns which are worn on various occasions, among which is the great crown made of gold and garlanded with all kinds of sapphires and jewels. This is placed on the emperor’s head in the audience chamber where he receives the people of his kingdom as well the ambassadors of foreign kings. Another crown is the well-known one which the emperor dons as he arrives back from an expedition when victorious over his enemy. This is studded with jewels and has a crest on its front made of red rubies. The emperor sits on the throne of his kingdom, which is made of gold studded with jewels, or upon a dais of studded gold, with his legs always hanging down from the throne or dais to a high cushion made of heavy silk brocade upon which his legs are placed. On his feet he wears a pair of red slippers, which can only be worn by the emperor. Those below him in rank wear one red and one black slipper. Abuʾl Fadl told me that he saw there a piece of amber as large as a large camel, placed in the middle of a great platform. 44. Diplomacy: embassy of Queen Bertha, daughter of Lothar Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr In the year 293 ah [905/6 ad], Bertha, daughter of Lothar, Queen of the Franks and other subject territories, sent Caliph al-Muktafi Billah [reigned 902–8] the following gifts with ʿAli al-Khadim, an agent of Ziyadat Allah b. al-Aghlab: fifty swords, fifty shields, fifty Frankish spears, twenty garments woven with gold thread, twenty Slav male slaves, twenty Slav female slaves, fair and gentle in bearing, twenty large dogs which no wild animal or any other creature can withstand, seven falcons, seven hawks, a silk loom complete with all its implements, and twenty garments made of a wool2 found in a kind of shell extracted from their sea when the tide runs out. This garment assumes all colours like the rainbow and takes on a different hue each hour of the day. In addition, the gifts included three birds found only in the land of the Franks which, when they see poisoned food or drink, utter a loud and ugly screech and beat their wings until their warning is recognised; and beads which magnetically draw out arrowheads even after the flesh has closed in upon them, and without causing pain. ʿAli al-Khadim brought these gifts from the Queen of the Franks together with a letter to al-Muktafi. There was also a message from her not included in the letter so that none but the caliph would know its contents. The letter itself was written on white silk and the writing resembled the Byzantine script but was more upright. The private message asked for marriage with al-Muktafi and a bond of love. The reason this messenger ʿAli ended up with the Frankish queen is that he had once been in the retinue of Ibn al-Aghlab, ruler of North Africa. He had dispatched him in a fleet he employed to raid the Frankish and Byzantine realms. ʿAli fell prisoner in the queen’s hands and she subsequently attached him to herself and made him her special servant. He stayed with her for many years. She then sent him to al-Muktafi with a letter written in the Frankish language. This arrived when the caliph was out hunting in the region of Samarra. Abu ʿAbdullah al-Isfahani told me: ‘I was in the camp of al-Muktafi, where I had gone in the company of the vizier Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Hasan. The caliph asked for someone to 13

1

Dinar: a gold coin. 2 Wool: possibly a reference to sea silk.

48  p a r t i , sectio n ii t­ ranslate the letter. Working in the royal wardrobe was a Frank who could read the language. He read the letter and translated it into Greek. Hunayn b. Ishaq was then summoned and translated it from Greek to Arabic. The letter went as follows: ‘In the name of God, Merciful, Compassionate. O king, you who reign well and are powerful in strength, may God protect you with his might from all your enemies. May he firmly establish the foundations of your kingdom and grant you health and safety in body and soul forever. I am Bertha, daughter of Lothar, queen over all the Franks, who now, Sire, addresses you with the greeting of peace. A friendship had grown between me and the King of Africa for I never imagined until the present time that there would be another king, superior to him, who ruled over the earth. My ships had sailed forth and captured the ships of the King of Africa. Their commander was a servant of that king, called ʿAli. I made him a prisoner together with a hundred and fifty men who were with him in three ships. They remained in my kingdom for seven years and I found him to be a man of reason and understanding. It was he who informed me that you were the king over all other kings. Many people had come to my kingdom but none of them had told me the truth about you except this ʿAli who is carrying my letter to you. I have sent with him some gifts from my country as a mark of esteem for you and in order to win your friendship. ‘This same ʿAli also informed me that between you and the King of the Byzantines, residing in Constantinople, there exists a friendship. But my realm is larger than his and I have many more troops for I rule over twenty-four kingdoms, each kingdom speaking a tongue different from the one adjacent to it. My kingdom also includes the great city of Rome, God be thanked. Of you he spoke so highly that my mind was fully apprised of the manner in which you manage your affairs. I ask God for help in befriending you and in declaring a truce between us for as many years as you desire. A truce is something that no member of my family, no relative of mine and no one of my race has ever requested. None had informed me of your armies and your acts of goodness before this servant ʿAli whom I have dispatched to you. Upon you, Sire, and in the love of God, the salutation of peace. Write and inform me of your health and of all that you need from my realm and kingdom with this same ʿAli. Do not detain him with you so that he can answer me from your side, for I am expecting his return. I have also confided a secret to him which he is to reveal to you when he sees you face to face and hears your speech so that this secret remains between us, for I do not wish anyone to know it except you, me and ʿAli the servant. The peace of God be upon you and those who are with you. May your enemy be subdued and may he be trampled under your feet.’

l ite rary ane cdote s   49

L itera ry a n e c dot e s The anecdote was a central feature in all books and anthologies of adab or belles-lettres, often having a moral purpose. 45. A lesson in generosity Ibn Khallikan (d. 1282) Maʿn ibn Zaʾida [d. 775] was a man renowned for his generosity and courage. He held many governorships under the Umayyad dynasty.1 When the Abbasids came to power, Maʿn fought bravely until the very end, but he had to flee from the Abbasid caliph al-Mansur, and several strange tales are told of the period when he was in hiding. The famous poet Marwan ibn Abi Hafsa narrates the following story as he heard it from Maʿn himself: 14

The caliph al-Mansur did all in his power to capture me and put a large price on my head. As the pursuit intensified, I was forced to expose my face to the sun in order to acquire a dark tan, I had my beard shaved closely, I wore an outer garment of wool, and I mounted a camel, heading for the desert where I sought to hide. Coming out of Harb Gate, one of the gates of Baghdad, I was followed by a black man, girt with a sword. Once out of sight of the guards he took hold of the camel’s halter, made the camel kneel down and grabbed my hand. ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘what is the matter with you?’   He asked: ‘Are you not the man wanted by the caliph?’   I replied: ‘Who am I to be wanted by the caliph?’   He declared: ‘You are Maʿn ibn Zaʾida.’   I said: ‘Fear God, my man. What have I to do with Maʿn?’   He said: ‘Stop pretending. I know you better than you know yourself.’   When I realised he was in earnest, I said to him: ‘Look, here are some precious stones that I have on me. They are many times greater in value than any prize that al-Mansur will pay to whoever delivers me to him. Take them and do not be the cause for the shedding of my blood.’   He said: ‘Hand them over.’   I pulled them out and he examined them carefully for a while. Then he said, ‘You are right about their value but I will not accept them until I ask you something. If you tell me the truth, I will release you.’   I said: ‘Go ahead.’   He said: ‘People describe you as being very generous. Tell me: have you ever given away all your wealth?’  ‘No.’   ‘Half of it?’  ‘No.’   ‘A third of it?’

1

Umayyad dynasty: a Sunni dynasty (661–750), with its capital at Damascus.

50  p a r t i , sectio n ii  ‘No.’   So he kept on until he reached one-tenth, at which point I became embarrassed and said, ‘I think I did this once.’   He said: ‘This is no great act of generosity. I am an infantryman and my wage from the caliph is twenty dirhams1 a month. These stones must be worth thousands of dinars.2 I hereby give them back to you, and give you back your life because of your reputed generosity among people. I do so in order to show you that there exists in this world one more generous than yourself, and in order that you do not feel pleased with yourself, so that you will henceforth despise any act of generosity you may do, and never cease to act generously.’ He then threw the stones back in my lap, let go of the camel’s halter and turned to leave.   ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘By God you have utterly shamed me! It is easier for me to have my blood shed than to bear what you have done to me. Please take back what I gave you. I can well do without it.’   He laughed and said: ‘You simply want to prove me wrong in what I just told you. I swear I will not accept it, nor would I ever accept money for doing a good deed.’ He then departed. When I later made my peace with the Abbasid state, I sought him out everywhere and offered anyone who brought him to me any sum they wished, but was never able to track him down. It was as if the earth had swallowed him. 15

46. A brilliant judge Ibn ʿAsakir (d. 1175) was a Damascene scholar and author of a celebrated history of Damascus; al-Safadi (d. 1363), another Damascene, was the author of a famous biographical dictionary. Here accounts from each of them are combined. Iyas ibn Muʿawiya al-Muzani [d. 739] was a man of consummate eloquence and intelligence, proverbial for his reason and quick wit. It is said that once every hundred years a person is born with a perfect mind, and that Iyas was one such person. He narrates how, when still a child at a primary school [maktab] in Damascus, a group of Christians gathered around and began to make fun of Muslims who claim that in paradise food leaves behind no excrement. ‘“Teacher,” I said, “would you not agree that most food is taken up and dispersed in the body?” “Yes,” he replied. I said: “Why then do you deny that in paradise the Almighty cannot make the remainder disappear totally inside the body?” He said: “You are a little devil.”’ Two men once came to plead before him. One of them said: ‘I went down to the river to bathe. I had a brand new green djellaba that I took off and placed by the bank of the river. This other man came wearing an old red djellaba. He took it off and went into the water. When we came out he ran ahead of me and took my green djellaba.’ Iyas asked them: ‘Do either of you have any proof?’ They said no. So he ordered a comb to be brought into court and had them combed. Some green woollen threads were found in the hair of the owner of the green djellaba so Iyas ordered it restored to him. He was once present in a place where something happened suddenly that caused fear. With

1

Dirham: a silver coin. 2 Dinar: a gold coin worth approximately ten dirhams.

50  p a r t i , sectio n ii  ‘No.’   So he kept on until he reached one-tenth, at which point I became embarrassed and said, ‘I think I did this once.’   He said: ‘This is no great act of generosity. I am an infantryman and my wage from the caliph is twenty dirhams1 a month. These stones must be worth thousands of dinars.2 I hereby give them back to you, and give you back your life because of your reputed generosity among people. I do so in order to show you that there exists in this world one more generous than yourself, and in order that you do not feel pleased with yourself, so that you will henceforth despise any act of generosity you may do, and never cease to act generously.’ He then threw the stones back in my lap, let go of the camel’s halter and turned to leave.   ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘By God you have utterly shamed me! It is easier for me to have my blood shed than to bear what you have done to me. Please take back what I gave you. I can well do without it.’   He laughed and said: ‘You simply want to prove me wrong in what I just told you. I swear I will not accept it, nor would I ever accept money for doing a good deed.’ He then departed. When I later made my peace with the Abbasid state, I sought him out everywhere and offered anyone who brought him to me any sum they wished, but was never able to track him down. It was as if the earth had swallowed him. 15

46. A brilliant judge Ibn ʿAsakir (d. 1175) was a Damascene scholar and author of a celebrated history of Damascus; al-Safadi (d. 1363), another Damascene, was the author of a famous biographical dictionary. Here accounts from each of them are combined. Iyas ibn Muʿawiya al-Muzani [d. 739] was a man of consummate eloquence and intelligence, proverbial for his reason and quick wit. It is said that once every hundred years a person is born with a perfect mind, and that Iyas was one such person. He narrates how, when still a child at a primary school [maktab] in Damascus, a group of Christians gathered around and began to make fun of Muslims who claim that in paradise food leaves behind no excrement. ‘“Teacher,” I said, “would you not agree that most food is taken up and dispersed in the body?” “Yes,” he replied. I said: “Why then do you deny that in paradise the Almighty cannot make the remainder disappear totally inside the body?” He said: “You are a little devil.”’ Two men once came to plead before him. One of them said: ‘I went down to the river to bathe. I had a brand new green djellaba that I took off and placed by the bank of the river. This other man came wearing an old red djellaba. He took it off and went into the water. When we came out he ran ahead of me and took my green djellaba.’ Iyas asked them: ‘Do either of you have any proof?’ They said no. So he ordered a comb to be brought into court and had them combed. Some green woollen threads were found in the hair of the owner of the green djellaba so Iyas ordered it restored to him. He was once present in a place where something happened suddenly that caused fear. With

1

Dirham: a silver coin. 2 Dinar: a gold coin worth approximately ten dirhams.

l ite rary ane cdote s   51 him were three women whom he did not know. He said: ‘This one is pregnant, that one is a wet-nurse and the third is a virgin.’ He was asked how he knew this and replied: ‘When there is sudden fear a human being places his hand upon what he most cherishes and fears for. The pregnant woman placed her hand on her belly, the wet-nurse on her breast and the virgin on her private parts.’ A Persian squire [dihqan] came to see him and asked him about intoxicating drink, and whether it is licit or illicit. ‘It is illicit,’ said Iyas. ‘How so?’ said the squire. ‘Tell me, are dates licit or illicit?’ ‘Licit,’ said Iyas. ‘What about dodder?’ ‘Licit,’ said Iyas. ‘And water?’ ‘Licit,’ replied Iyas. ‘So what is it that makes these things incompatible? Is not date wine made from dates, dodder and water? What is it that makes date wine illicit and all these other things licit?’ Iyas answered: ‘If I were to take a handful of earth and throw it at you, would you feel pain?’ The squire said: ‘No.’ ‘What if I cupped my fingers and threw some water at you, would that pain you?’ ‘No,’ said the squire. ‘And what if I took a handful of straw and hit you with it, would that cause you pain?’ ‘No,’ said the squire. ‘If I now took this handful of earth, and kneaded it with water and straw, making it into lumps, and I left it out to dry and then hit you with it, would this cause you pain?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the squire, ‘it may even kill me.’ Iyas said: ‘So also with dates, water and dodder. If mixed together and then aged they become illicit.’ Iyas once said, ‘I was reduced to silence by only one man. I was sitting in my court chamber in Basra when a man entered into my presence and testified that a particular orchard – and he specified its borders – was the property of so-and-so. I asked him: ‘How many trees does it have?’ He fell silent then said: ‘May I ask his honour the judge how long he has been judging in this chamber?’ ‘Since such-and-such a time,’ I replied. The man asked: ‘How many beams are there in its ceiling?’ ‘You are quite right,’ I replied, and I allowed his testimony. 47. Poetic justice: revenge Ghars al-Niʿmah al-Sabi (d. 1087) was an Iraqi historian, man of letters and state secretary, and member of a prominent scholarly family. I was told the following story by Nasr al-Dawla [d. 1061], governor of Amid and Mayyafariqin: A Kurdish chieftain was once dining with me. I picked up a roasted partridge near to hand and offered it to him. He took it and began to laugh. I asked him why he laughed and he said: ‘Nothing bad, really.’ I persisted and he persisted in not telling me until I said: ‘I will eat no more unless you tell me the reason for your laughter.’ He replied: ‘It’s something that the partridge reminded me of. In my days of youth and recklessness, I waylaid a merchant with his merchandise travelling on a highway. I led him to the foot of a mountain, and determined to kill him, fearing that he might later recognise me, reclaim his property and do me harm. The merchant said to me: “You have robbed me of my money and impoverished me and my family. Please release me so that I can go back to them and work hard to provide for them. Please do not rob me of both my life and my property.” He wept, pleaded and begged but I felt no pity for him, being eager to possess his belongings. Having despaired of his life, he turned towards two partridges perched on that mountain and said: “You two partridges, I call on you to witness before Almighty God that he is unjustly taking my life.” I then killed him. When I saw the partridge just now, I remembered that man and how foolish he was in asking those partridges to witness against me.’

l ite rary ane cdote s   51 him were three women whom he did not know. He said: ‘This one is pregnant, that one is a wet-nurse and the third is a virgin.’ He was asked how he knew this and replied: ‘When there is sudden fear a human being places his hand upon what he most cherishes and fears for. The pregnant woman placed her hand on her belly, the wet-nurse on her breast and the virgin on her private parts.’ A Persian squire [dihqan] came to see him and asked him about intoxicating drink, and whether it is licit or illicit. ‘It is illicit,’ said Iyas. ‘How so?’ said the squire. ‘Tell me, are dates licit or illicit?’ ‘Licit,’ said Iyas. ‘What about dodder?’ ‘Licit,’ said Iyas. ‘And water?’ ‘Licit,’ replied Iyas. ‘So what is it that makes these things incompatible? Is not date wine made from dates, dodder and water? What is it that makes date wine illicit and all these other things licit?’ Iyas answered: ‘If I were to take a handful of earth and throw it at you, would you feel pain?’ The squire said: ‘No.’ ‘What if I cupped my fingers and threw some water at you, would that pain you?’ ‘No,’ said the squire. ‘And what if I took a handful of straw and hit you with it, would that cause you pain?’ ‘No,’ said the squire. ‘If I now took this handful of earth, and kneaded it with water and straw, making it into lumps, and I left it out to dry and then hit you with it, would this cause you pain?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the squire, ‘it may even kill me.’ Iyas said: ‘So also with dates, water and dodder. If mixed together and then aged they become illicit.’ Iyas once said, ‘I was reduced to silence by only one man. I was sitting in my court chamber in Basra when a man entered into my presence and testified that a particular orchard – and he specified its borders – was the property of so-and-so. I asked him: ‘How many trees does it have?’ He fell silent then said: ‘May I ask his honour the judge how long he has been judging in this chamber?’ ‘Since such-and-such a time,’ I replied. The man asked: ‘How many beams are there in its ceiling?’ ‘You are quite right,’ I replied, and I allowed his testimony. 47. Poetic justice: revenge Ghars al-Niʿmah al-Sabi (d. 1087) was an Iraqi historian, man of letters and state secretary, and member of a prominent scholarly family. I was told the following story by Nasr al-Dawla [d. 1061], governor of Amid and Mayyafariqin: A Kurdish chieftain was once dining with me. I picked up a roasted partridge near to hand and offered it to him. He took it and began to laugh. I asked him why he laughed and he said: ‘Nothing bad, really.’ I persisted and he persisted in not telling me until I said: ‘I will eat no more unless you tell me the reason for your laughter.’ He replied: ‘It’s something that the partridge reminded me of. In my days of youth and recklessness, I waylaid a merchant with his merchandise travelling on a highway. I led him to the foot of a mountain, and determined to kill him, fearing that he might later recognise me, reclaim his property and do me harm. The merchant said to me: “You have robbed me of my money and impoverished me and my family. Please release me so that I can go back to them and work hard to provide for them. Please do not rob me of both my life and my property.” He wept, pleaded and begged but I felt no pity for him, being eager to possess his belongings. Having despaired of his life, he turned towards two partridges perched on that mountain and said: “You two partridges, I call on you to witness before Almighty God that he is unjustly taking my life.” I then killed him. When I saw the partridge just now, I remembered that man and how foolish he was in asking those partridges to witness against me.’

52  p a r t i , sectio n ii Having heard that story I could not help shaking. I ordered him to be tied up and to be beheaded in my presence. I did not resume my meal until I saw his head rolling down between his hands after having said to him: ‘By God, the two partridges have indeed borne witness with one who retaliated for the death of that merchant and recovered his rightful claim against you.’ 48. A clown at a caliph’s court Al-Sharishi (d. 1222) was an Andalusian man of letters from the city of Sharish (Jerez de la Frontera). Ibn al-Maghazili was a man from Baghdad who would stand by the roadside and tell funny tales and stories. He was so talented that none who heard him could stop laughing. He said: One day I stood near the royal palace and began to tell my jokes and stories. A servant of the caliph al-Muʿtadid [d. 892] came and stood behind me. So I started to relate jokes about royal servants, which he liked. He then departed. Some time later he returned and, holding my hand, he said: ‘I entered into the caliph’s presence, remembered your jokes and began to laugh. The caliph was angry and said: “Confound you! What is the matter with you?” I replied: “There is a man at the door called Ibn al-Maghazili who tells jokes and stories that make even the bereaved laugh.” He ordered me to admit you into his presence and said that I shall take half of any present you receive from him.’ I grew greedy and said: ‘Sir, I am a poor wretch with a family to feed. How about taking only a sixth or a quarter of the present?’ He refused, then ushered me into the caliph’s presence. I saluted the caliph and he responded. He was reading a book, most of which he read while I stood before him. Finally he shut the book, raised his head to me and said: ‘Are you Ibn al-Maghazili?’ ‘Yes, My Lord,’ I responded. He said: ‘I have been told that you tell wonderfully funny stories.’ I said: ‘O Commander of the Faithful, necessity is the mother of invention. I collect stories about people which are close to their hearts and I seek their reward.’ He said: ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got, and if you make me laugh I will give you 500 dirhams.1 If I do not laugh I will have you beaten ten times with that pouch.’ I said to myself: ‘Here’s a ruler who uses something light to punish with.’ I looked around and saw a leather pouch hanging in a corner of the hall. ‘So I am right, after all, and there’s nothing in that pouch but air. If I make him laugh I win and take the prize. If I fail, ten lashes with a pouch filled with air is no great torment.’ So I began my funny tales, embellishing them as I went along. There was no joke about Bedouins, grammarians, hermaphrodites, judges, country bumpkins, Sindis, royal servants, Turks or ruffians that I failed to tell. Finally, my repertoire was exhausted and my head was splitting. I became listless and piped down. Meanwhile all the royal servants and pages standing behind me had almost died laughing. The caliph, however, remained frowning and unsmiling. I said: ‘My Lord, I have gone through all my repertoire and I swear I’ve never seen someone like you.’ 16

1

Dirham: a silver coin.

52  p a r t i , sectio n ii Having heard that story I could not help shaking. I ordered him to be tied up and to be beheaded in my presence. I did not resume my meal until I saw his head rolling down between his hands after having said to him: ‘By God, the two partridges have indeed borne witness with one who retaliated for the death of that merchant and recovered his rightful claim against you.’ 48. A clown at a caliph’s court Al-Sharishi (d. 1222) was an Andalusian man of letters from the city of Sharish (Jerez de la Frontera). Ibn al-Maghazili was a man from Baghdad who would stand by the roadside and tell funny tales and stories. He was so talented that none who heard him could stop laughing. He said: One day I stood near the royal palace and began to tell my jokes and stories. A servant of the caliph al-Muʿtadid [d. 892] came and stood behind me. So I started to relate jokes about royal servants, which he liked. He then departed. Some time later he returned and, holding my hand, he said: ‘I entered into the caliph’s presence, remembered your jokes and began to laugh. The caliph was angry and said: “Confound you! What is the matter with you?” I replied: “There is a man at the door called Ibn al-Maghazili who tells jokes and stories that make even the bereaved laugh.” He ordered me to admit you into his presence and said that I shall take half of any present you receive from him.’ I grew greedy and said: ‘Sir, I am a poor wretch with a family to feed. How about taking only a sixth or a quarter of the present?’ He refused, then ushered me into the caliph’s presence. I saluted the caliph and he responded. He was reading a book, most of which he read while I stood before him. Finally he shut the book, raised his head to me and said: ‘Are you Ibn al-Maghazili?’ ‘Yes, My Lord,’ I responded. He said: ‘I have been told that you tell wonderfully funny stories.’ I said: ‘O Commander of the Faithful, necessity is the mother of invention. I collect stories about people which are close to their hearts and I seek their reward.’ He said: ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got, and if you make me laugh I will give you 500 dirhams.1 If I do not laugh I will have you beaten ten times with that pouch.’ I said to myself: ‘Here’s a ruler who uses something light to punish with.’ I looked around and saw a leather pouch hanging in a corner of the hall. ‘So I am right, after all, and there’s nothing in that pouch but air. If I make him laugh I win and take the prize. If I fail, ten lashes with a pouch filled with air is no great torment.’ So I began my funny tales, embellishing them as I went along. There was no joke about Bedouins, grammarians, hermaphrodites, judges, country bumpkins, Sindis, royal servants, Turks or ruffians that I failed to tell. Finally, my repertoire was exhausted and my head was splitting. I became listless and piped down. Meanwhile all the royal servants and pages standing behind me had almost died laughing. The caliph, however, remained frowning and unsmiling. I said: ‘My Lord, I have gone through all my repertoire and I swear I’ve never seen someone like you.’ 16

1

Dirham: a silver coin.

l ite rary ane cdote s   53 He asked: ‘Is that all you have, then?’ I said: ‘I have one last joke.’ ‘So let’s hear it.’ ‘You promised you would make my present ten lashes. I now ask you to please double these lashes and add ten extra.’ He was about to laugh then restrained himself and said, ‘Done.’ He then ordered a page to grab my hands. I stretched forth my back and received one lash from that pouch which felt like some mountaintop had collapsed upon me. The pouch, it turned out, was full of round pebbles. After ten lashes I felt as if my neck was about to be severed from my shoulders. My ears buzzed and I could no longer see clearly. I cried out: ‘My Lord, a word of advice.’ The beating halted although twenty lashes were clearly on their way. ‘Speak,’ said the caliph. ‘My Lord, there is nothing in religion more laudable than keeping faith or uglier than treachery. To the royal servant who brought me here I had promised half my present, be it little or much. Through his generosity, the Commander of the Faithful has doubled that present. I have now fulfilled my half, but the other half remains.’ The caliph fell back laughing and then, remembering all the jokes he had heard, began thumping the floor with his hands, writhing and holding his belly up in his hands. When he finally recovered his composure, he said, ‘Summon that servant.’ He ordered him to be lashed. The servant was tall in stature. He said: ‘What crime have I committed?’ I answered: ‘This is my prize and you are my partner in it. I have fulfilled my portion of it and there remains your portion.’ When he began to be beaten and to feel the pain, I stepped forward and began to reprimand him. ‘I told you I was a poor fellow with a family to support. I complained to you of my want and my wretched state and I pleaded with you to take only a sixth or a quarter of the prize but you insisted on taking half. Had I known that the Commander of the Faithful, long may he live, would award his prize in the form of lashes I would have given you the whole prize.’ The caliph started laughing again at my reprimand to the servant. When the beating ended, the caliph pulled out a pouch in which there were 500 dirhams and said, ‘I had prepared this for you but your big mouth was such that you brought in a partner with you.’ I said: ‘But what happened to keeping faith?’ The caliph divided the sum between us and I departed. 49. A classic children’s story: Tanburi’s shoe Anonymous Once upon a time there was a man of Baghdad called Abuʾl Qasim al-Tanburi. He had a shoe which he had worn continuously for seven years. Whenever a piece fell off he would patch it until it became heavy, and the shoe became proverbial among people. One day he happened to enter the glassmakers’ market and a middleman approached him. ‘O Abuʾl Qasim, a merchant has just arrived from Aleppo with a load of gilded glass bottles for which he has found no buyer. Buy it from him and I will sell it for you later, and you will double your money.’ So Abuʾl Qasim went and bought the whole load for sixty dinars.

l ite rary ane cdote s   53 He asked: ‘Is that all you have, then?’ I said: ‘I have one last joke.’ ‘So let’s hear it.’ ‘You promised you would make my present ten lashes. I now ask you to please double these lashes and add ten extra.’ He was about to laugh then restrained himself and said, ‘Done.’ He then ordered a page to grab my hands. I stretched forth my back and received one lash from that pouch which felt like some mountaintop had collapsed upon me. The pouch, it turned out, was full of round pebbles. After ten lashes I felt as if my neck was about to be severed from my shoulders. My ears buzzed and I could no longer see clearly. I cried out: ‘My Lord, a word of advice.’ The beating halted although twenty lashes were clearly on their way. ‘Speak,’ said the caliph. ‘My Lord, there is nothing in religion more laudable than keeping faith or uglier than treachery. To the royal servant who brought me here I had promised half my present, be it little or much. Through his generosity, the Commander of the Faithful has doubled that present. I have now fulfilled my half, but the other half remains.’ The caliph fell back laughing and then, remembering all the jokes he had heard, began thumping the floor with his hands, writhing and holding his belly up in his hands. When he finally recovered his composure, he said, ‘Summon that servant.’ He ordered him to be lashed. The servant was tall in stature. He said: ‘What crime have I committed?’ I answered: ‘This is my prize and you are my partner in it. I have fulfilled my portion of it and there remains your portion.’ When he began to be beaten and to feel the pain, I stepped forward and began to reprimand him. ‘I told you I was a poor fellow with a family to support. I complained to you of my want and my wretched state and I pleaded with you to take only a sixth or a quarter of the prize but you insisted on taking half. Had I known that the Commander of the Faithful, long may he live, would award his prize in the form of lashes I would have given you the whole prize.’ The caliph started laughing again at my reprimand to the servant. When the beating ended, the caliph pulled out a pouch in which there were 500 dirhams and said, ‘I had prepared this for you but your big mouth was such that you brought in a partner with you.’ I said: ‘But what happened to keeping faith?’ The caliph divided the sum between us and I departed. 49. A classic children’s story: Tanburi’s shoe Anonymous Once upon a time there was a man of Baghdad called Abuʾl Qasim al-Tanburi. He had a shoe which he had worn continuously for seven years. Whenever a piece fell off he would patch it until it became heavy, and the shoe became proverbial among people. One day he happened to enter the glassmakers’ market and a middleman approached him. ‘O Abuʾl Qasim, a merchant has just arrived from Aleppo with a load of gilded glass bottles for which he has found no buyer. Buy it from him and I will sell it for you later, and you will double your money.’ So Abuʾl Qasim went and bought the whole load for sixty dinars.

54  p a r t i , sectio n ii Then he entered the perfumers’ market where another middleman approached and said: ‘O Abuʾl Qasim, a merchant has just arrived from Nisibin with a load of rosewater of finest quality. He intends to depart in a hurry. Because of this you can buy it cheap, and I will sell it for you in no time at all, and you will double your money.’ So Tanburi went and bought the rosewater, also for sixty dinars, and poured it into the gilded glass bottles. He then carried the bottles home and arranged them on a shelf in the middle of his house. Then he entered the public bath. One of his friends said to him, ‘O Abuʾl Qasim, I wish you would change your shoe, for it is truly an ugly sight and you, God be thanked, are well off.’ Tanburi said: ‘You are right and I shall do what you suggest.’ As he was leaving the bath and getting into his clothes, he saw a new shoe next to his old one and, thinking that his friend had generously bought it for him, put it on and went home. That new shoe belonged to the city’s judge, who had entered the bath the same day and left his shoe behind. Leaving the bath, the judge looked for his shoe but could not find it. ‘O brothers,’ he said, ‘it appears the fellow who wore my shoe left behind no compensation.’ So they looked but found only Tanburi’s shoe, which they at once recognised because it was proverbial. The judge then sent his servants to Tanburi’s house. They stormed in and found the judge’s shoe there. The judge summoned Tanburi, recovered his own shoe, and ordered him beaten, imprisoned for a term, fined then released. Tanburi left prison with his shoe. Furious at the shoe, he went to the river Tigris and flung the shoe in, and it promptly sank. A fisherman later came and cast his net into the river and brought up the shoe. The fisherman recognised it at once and said to himself: ‘This is Tanburi’s shoe which must have fallen from him into the Tigris.’ He picked up the shoe and went to Tanburi’s house but did not find him there. Glancing up, he saw an open window so he flung the shoe inside. The shoe fell on the shelf holding the bottles, which then tumbled to the ground and shattered, spilling all the rosewater. When Tanburi came home and examined the scene, he guessed what had happened and began to wail and weep. ‘This damned shoe’, he cried, ‘has impoverished me.’ He then rose and dug a hole at night in which to bury the shoe and have done with it. His neighbours heard the sound of digging and thought that some burglar was boring a hole into their house so they informed the ruler, who ordered Tanburi arrested and said to him: ‘How can you find it permissible to bore a hole in your neighbour’s wall?’ So he ordered him jailed and released him only after payment of a fine. Tanburi left prison raging at his shoe. He carried it to the latrine of the inn and threw it into the hole. The shoe blocked the latrine, which overflowed, and the foul smell was more than people could bear. When the latrine was searched, a shoe was found. When examined, it turned out to be Tanburi’s shoe. The shoe was carried to the governor and he was informed of what had happened. The governor summoned Tanburi, reprimanded him severely and imprisoned him. He said to him: ‘You will now have to pay for the repair of the latrine.’ Tanburi had to pay a large sum of money for that repair. Tanburi then left with his shoe. In sheer annoyance he said: ‘I swear I shall never allow this shoe to part from me.’ He washed the shoe and took it up to the roof of his house to dry. A dog passing by mistook it for a piece of meat. He picked it up and crossed over to another roof. While doing so, the shoe fell from the dog’s jaws onto the head of a man, wounding him severely. When people came and looked they recognised it as Tanburi’s shoe. When the case reached the governor he ordered Tanburi to pay compensation and all expenses of the wounded man’s treatment. By this time, Tanburi had no money left. Tanburi then took the shoe and went to the judge. ‘Your Honour,’ he said, ‘I would like you

l ite rary ane cdote s   55 to write a legal document of acquittal between me and this shoe. I have nothing to do with it and it has nothing to do with me. Each is totally independent of the other. Whatever crime this shoe commits, I am not responsible.’ Tanburi narrated all that had happened to him because of the shoe. The judge laughed, did what he asked and Tanburi went away. 50. Three real-life stories on the theme of ‘Ease following hardship’ Ahmad ibn Yusuf ibn al-Daya (d. circa 942) was a Cairene state secretary, poet and finance expert. (i) I was told the following story by al-Hasan b. Muslim the Cretan. I met him when he was very advanced in age, almost a hundred years old in fact, but he was still mentally alert and in good health: We multiplied our raids against the Byzantines and inflicted great harm on them. The Byzantine emperor was furious and swore he would destroy Crete even if it cost him all the treasures of his realm. He remembered a monk who was popular and whose ascetic way of life was well known to all the Byzantines and he ordered him to come down from his hermit’s cell and attached to him most of his armies. A massive force then descended upon Crete the like of which that island had never seen before. We for our part took refuge in our fortress, which we fortified while the Byzantines quickly disembarked and built their camps all around. They soon gained mastery over the lands of the city and its surroundings, and the siege of our fortress grew ever more relentless. Prices of commodities shot up, food became scarce, our difficulties multiplied, and the horrors grew to the point where we ate animals which had died of hunger. Eventually, we all agreed that we would open the gate of the fortress and let the enemy in. All at once an old man spoke up: ‘I see that in your present state of weakness you have abandoned all hope of success. The right course of action is to accept my advice.’ We said: ‘Tell us what it is.’ He said: ‘Purify your souls before Almighty God from the sins induced by your life of luxury and security. Devote yourselves to Him like one who hopes for no relief except from Him; separate the children from the adults and the men from the women.’ Once this was done he cried out: ‘Raise your voices in prayer to God.’ So we all prayed like one person as loud as we could, and the old man, together with most of us who were there, burst into tears. He then said: ‘Pray again as loudly as you can and have no thought except for God.’ Once again we cried out in prayer, louder than the first time and once again we all wept. He then prayed aloud a third time, together with everyone there. Then he said: ‘Look out from the parapets of the castle, for I hope that God has relieved us.’ Al-Hasan swore to me that when he and a few others looked down they saw the Byzantines had struck camp and were boarding their ships. The gate of the castle was opened and a few of them were found who had been left behind. They were asked what happened and said: ‘The army commander was in the best of health until today. When he heard your loud voices he placed his hand over his heart and cried “My heart, my heart!” and fell down dead. Those remaining then returned to the lands of the Byzantines.’ Al-Hasan added: ‘We came out of the castle and saw that their camps were full to the brim with wheat and barley, enough to feed the entire city and restore its prosperity, and it was thus that we were spared from fighting them.’

l ite rary ane cdote s   55 to write a legal document of acquittal between me and this shoe. I have nothing to do with it and it has nothing to do with me. Each is totally independent of the other. Whatever crime this shoe commits, I am not responsible.’ Tanburi narrated all that had happened to him because of the shoe. The judge laughed, did what he asked and Tanburi went away. 50. Three real-life stories on the theme of ‘Ease following hardship’ Ahmad ibn Yusuf ibn al-Daya (d. circa 942) was a Cairene state secretary, poet and finance expert. (i) I was told the following story by al-Hasan b. Muslim the Cretan. I met him when he was very advanced in age, almost a hundred years old in fact, but he was still mentally alert and in good health: We multiplied our raids against the Byzantines and inflicted great harm on them. The Byzantine emperor was furious and swore he would destroy Crete even if it cost him all the treasures of his realm. He remembered a monk who was popular and whose ascetic way of life was well known to all the Byzantines and he ordered him to come down from his hermit’s cell and attached to him most of his armies. A massive force then descended upon Crete the like of which that island had never seen before. We for our part took refuge in our fortress, which we fortified while the Byzantines quickly disembarked and built their camps all around. They soon gained mastery over the lands of the city and its surroundings, and the siege of our fortress grew ever more relentless. Prices of commodities shot up, food became scarce, our difficulties multiplied, and the horrors grew to the point where we ate animals which had died of hunger. Eventually, we all agreed that we would open the gate of the fortress and let the enemy in. All at once an old man spoke up: ‘I see that in your present state of weakness you have abandoned all hope of success. The right course of action is to accept my advice.’ We said: ‘Tell us what it is.’ He said: ‘Purify your souls before Almighty God from the sins induced by your life of luxury and security. Devote yourselves to Him like one who hopes for no relief except from Him; separate the children from the adults and the men from the women.’ Once this was done he cried out: ‘Raise your voices in prayer to God.’ So we all prayed like one person as loud as we could, and the old man, together with most of us who were there, burst into tears. He then said: ‘Pray again as loudly as you can and have no thought except for God.’ Once again we cried out in prayer, louder than the first time and once again we all wept. He then prayed aloud a third time, together with everyone there. Then he said: ‘Look out from the parapets of the castle, for I hope that God has relieved us.’ Al-Hasan swore to me that when he and a few others looked down they saw the Byzantines had struck camp and were boarding their ships. The gate of the castle was opened and a few of them were found who had been left behind. They were asked what happened and said: ‘The army commander was in the best of health until today. When he heard your loud voices he placed his hand over his heart and cried “My heart, my heart!” and fell down dead. Those remaining then returned to the lands of the Byzantines.’ Al-Hasan added: ‘We came out of the castle and saw that their camps were full to the brim with wheat and barley, enough to feed the entire city and restore its prosperity, and it was thus that we were spared from fighting them.’

56  p a r t i , sectio n ii (ii) I was told this story by Umm Asiya, the midwife of the children born to Khumarawayh.1 She was a woman of piety and charm and was very well liked by Khumarawayh. We were discussing the grace of God towards His pious servants and how He cares for them. She narrated the following story. She and her sister were married to two brothers. Her sister’s husband grew ever more prosperous while her own husband grew ever poorer. Eventually her husband died, leaving her in the worst possible state, with daughters to care for, and not even enough money to prepare his body for burial. Then her sister’s husband died, but he left behind plenty of cash, property and furniture for her sister’s children. She continued: 17

I did my very utmost to feed and care for my children. When I could no longer cope, I would go to see my sister and say to her ‘Please lend me some money’, being too embarrassed to say ‘Give me’. The month of Ramadan was now upon us and half way during that month, my children craved some sweets for the coming feast. So I again went to see my sister and said to her: ‘Please lend me a dinar to prepare some sweets for my children for the feast’. She said: ‘Sister, you really annoy me when you say “Lend me”. Suppose I did lend you, how would you ever pay me back? From the revenue of your houses and orchards?! It would be better if you had said “Give me”’. I answered: ‘I will pay you back from the grace of the Almighty which is incalculable and from His bounty which always comes when you least expect it.’ She laughed and said: ‘Sister, these are just false hopes, and false hopes are the ­merchandise of fools.’ So I left her and dragged myself slowly homewards. Our neighbour was a black servant of Bint al-Yatim, wife of Khumarawayh. When I reached our quarter he said to me: ‘There is a woman in labour in our neighbourhood, and my heart aches for her. Please go in and see her for she has no midwife.’ I swear to God I had never attended a woman in labour before. So I went in, passed my hand over her stomach and made her sit the way midwives used to make me sit during my labours, and she quickly gave birth. When her screams ceased, the servant passed by to enquire about her and I said to him: ‘She has now given birth.’ He was astonished at how quickly this had been done and imagined this was something I had accomplished through skill and good professional training. So he went off to Bint al-Yatim, at that time close to delivering Khumarawayh’s first child. She had already dismissed several midwives because she found their presence uncongenial. The man said to his mistress: ‘There is this midwife living in our quarter whom we summoned to a woman in labour, and she simply passed her hand over her stomach and the child was delivered.’ He proceeded to describe my powers to her in terms which can only be applied to the Almighty. She said: ‘Bring her tomorrow.’ He came and invited me to see his mistress and I accepted with great relief and faith in the Almighty. She found me agreeable and said: ‘You will see me through until delivery, God willing.’ She then complained of a stomach-ache, which happens to women about to deliver, so I inserted my hand beneath her dress and passed it over her stomach. Quietly, I implored God and prayed fervently to Him. Her attendants thought I was murmuring some incantations. Her pain subsided and she found me a source of blessing. 1

Khumarawayh: ruler of Egypt, 884–96.

l ite rary ane cdote s   57 Khumarawayh then entered and asked his wife: ‘What was the matter with you?’ She answered, ‘A stomach-ache which a midwife I chose cured by passing her hand over it.’ She then led me out to see him – he was close to his womenfolk – and he said to me: ‘I pray that God will deliver her safely through your blessings.’ We were now in the last ten days of Ramadan and I devoted myself wholeheartedly to God. Not even a hermit on a mountaintop was as devoted as me, for I was terrified of my sister’s malicious glee. After three days the ruler’s wife began her labours so I sat her on the delivery stool – her labours lasted two hours – and she gave birth to a boy with the greatest of ease. Meanwhile Khumarawayh was pacing up and down and coming and going. When she finally delivered – she had thought delivery was some awesome event – she turned to me and said: ‘So this is what labour is all about?’ I answered: ‘Yes’. I swear to God she then kissed my eyes from joy and Khumarawayh called out to me: ‘Tell me, O blessed one, how she is doing?’ I answered: ‘I swear on the ruler’s life she is well and has given birth to a boy in excellent shape and health.’ He sent me a thousand dinars and insisted on going in to see her in person, for he had been very concerned about her. I asked him to wait a little until I had removed the various implements of delivery and said to her: ‘My mistress, when you see him, give him a broad smile.’ When he went in to see her, she smiled in his face, so he disbursed huge sums of money in charity on behalf of her and his new-born son. When the infant was a week old – which occurred one day before the feast – Bint al-Yatim ordered five hundred dinars to be given to me and I received another thousand from her attendants. So I now had two thousand five hundred dinars. She and her attendants showered me with more than thirty luxury garments and to my house were delivered three royal repasts that had been prepared for the feast. When I reached home I found my sister had sent me one repast and she then came to visit and offer her good wishes for the feast. Meanwhile her own wealth had begun to dwindle. I showed her what money, garments and perfumes I had earned and said to her: ‘Sister, when I said “Lend me” you found the words ludicrous. It is from this bounty that I will repay you. So do not despise a person for relying on God and for faith in the recompense of God.’ Umm Asiya was to make a lot of money from her association with Khumarawayh, and she was to provide the same wonderful service to many grandees of Cairo. (iii) I asked Sanad ibn ʿAli:1 ‘How did you gain access to the caliph al-Maʾmun2 (d. 833) so that you became a close companion of his among his circle of scholars?’ He answered: 18

I will tell you. My father earned his living from practising astrology for the benefit of a group of state functionaries who liked him and showed him favour. After I had read the book of Euclid I was determined to read Ptolemy’s Almagest.3 In the days of the caliph 1 Sanad ibn Ali: a famous astronomer at the court of al-Maʾmun. 2 The caliph al-Maʾmun was a great patron of science and learning. 3 Ptolemy’s Almagest: a mathematical and astronomical treatise of the second century ad, of great importance in both the Islamic and the European scientific traditions.

58  p a r t i , sectio n ii al-Maʾmun, there was in the booksellers’ market a man called Maʿruf, who would copy this book and sell it, after having perfected its calligraphy, vowelling and binding, for twenty dinars. I asked my father to buy it for me and he said: ‘Son, wait until I earn some money either from income or from a favour granted and I will buy it for you.’ I had a brother who had no aptitude for any science I was pursuing but he used to serve my father, run errands for him and pretend that he cared for him. My father procrastinated, and after some considerable time had elapsed, it happened that I rode out with him one day and then held the bridle of his riding animal while he went in to visit some friends. At the time I was seventeen years old. Some servants of the house he was visiting came out and said to me: ‘You may go. Your father has decided to spend some time here with our master.’ So I took the riding animal and sold it, with saddle and bridle, for less than thirty dinars and went to Maʿruf and bought the book for twenty dinars. I had a room to myself in our house to which I used to retire. I went to my mother and said: ‘Mother, I have done you wrong’ and told her the story. I swore to her that if she were to rouse my father against me to the point where he prevented me from reading the book, I would leave home and go as far from them as possible. I then gave her what remained from the sale of the riding animal and said to her: ‘I shall close the door of my room and I will be satisfied if you slip me a crust of bread, as is done to prisoners in jail, until I have finished reading it.’ She assured me she would soothe his anger, so I entered my room and locked the door from the inside. In the meantime, my brother went off to the house where my father was and whispered the news to him. His face changed colour and his speech became slurred. The master of the house said to him: ‘I am troubled, as we all are, to see you like this. Please tell us what is the matter.’ So he told the man and the man said: ‘Surely this is cause for joy and you have good reason to expect a wonderful future for him.’ He then ordered a mule to be brought from his own stable, far more agile than my father’s, with a saddle far finer than the old, and he said to my father: ‘Ride this mule and don’t say a word to your son.’ So I stayed in my room for three years, which passed as if they were a single day, during which time my father never laid eyes on me, and I worked my way painstakingly through the Almagest. When I finally came out I had worked out several problems considered very difficult, put them in my sleeve and asked where geometricians and mathematicians were to be found. I was told that they had a study circle in the house of Al-ʿAbbas b. Saʿid al-Jawhari, a companion of the caliph al-Maʾmun. This was where prominent scholars of astronomy and geometry congregated. So I attended this circle and saw that all of them were men of advanced age and that I was the only youth, for I was then twenty years old. Al-ʿAbbas then turned to me and asked: ‘Who are you and what have you studied?’ I replied: ‘I am just a young man who loves geometry and astronomy.’ He said: ‘What have you read?’ I answered: ‘Euclid and the Almagest.’ He asked: ‘Did you read them thoroughly?’ ‘Yes,’ I said. So he asked me about a difficult problem in the Almagest whose solution happened to be among the papers I had in my sleeve and I answered him. He was taken aback and asked: ‘Who gave you that solution?’ ‘I worked it out for myself without anyone’s help. This solution, as well as others, are written right here on some papers I brought with me,’ I replied. He said: ‘Give it to me.’ When he saw it, he was agitated and perplexed, then turned

l ite rary ane cdote s   59 to his servants and said: ‘Bring me my pouch of books.’ The pouch was brought in and he examined its seal and found it unbroken. So he broke the seal, took out a notebook and began to compare its contents with my papers. The wording in his solution was more elegant than mine but the end result was the same. He then turned to me and said: ‘This is a problem from the Almagest which I had solved and then hidden away. When you brought me your solution I imagined that it had been stolen from me until I discovered that the wording was different in the two solutions though the result is the same.’ He then ordered several garments to be tailored for me together with a golden belt, all of which were ready for me that very night. I was later introduced to al-Maʾmun, who ordered me to join his court and gave me a regular salary and property. 51. Pre-Islamic Arabian lore Pre-Islamic Arabian lore was always a prominent theme in adab anthologies, a subject of pride for some intellectuals and ridicule for others. The three authors of these four anecdotes are: Ibn Habib (d.  859), a Baghdadi scholar and early anthologist, of whose life little is known; Al-Raghib alIsfahani (d. 1108), on whom see no. 20 above; and Ahmad Zaki Safwat, a modern anthologist of classical Arabic orations. (i) Abu Hanbal was a chieftain proverbial for keeping his word. A man called Imruʾl Qays was a neighbour of another called ʿAmir ibn Juwayn. One day, ʿAmir kissed the wife of Imruʾl Qays and she informed her husband. So Imruʾl Qays set out to find Abu Hanbal and appeal to him for aid and refuge. He did not find Abu Hanbal but found his son, who said to him: ‘I grant you aid and refuge against all mankind except Abu Hanbal.’ Imruʾl Qays accepted this condition and was granted refuge. When Abu Hanbal returned he discovered that Imruʾl Qays possessed vast wealth. His son informed him of the condition he had imposed on Imruʾl Qays. So Abu Hanbal consulted his womenfolk as to whether he should consume that wealth and they all advised him to do so, saying: ‘He does not have a covenant of protection from you.’ Abu Hanbal then set out. Coming to a valley he cried in a loud voice ‘Abu Hanbal is treacherous!’ and the echo came back to him with his words. He called out again: ‘Abu Hanbal keeps his word!’ and again the echo returned his words. Abu Hanbal said: ‘This last echo sounds far better than the first.’ He returned to his house, milked a ewe, drank its milk, passed his hand over his belly and said: ‘Am I to commit treachery when the milk of a ewe has sufficed me?’ So he kept his word to Imruʾl Qays and extended to him his covenant. Imruʾl Qays then informed him that ʿAmir had kissed his wife. So Abu Hanbal rode out with his family, accompanied by Imruʾl Qays, until he reached the house of ʿAmir. To Imruʾl Qays he said: ‘Now kiss his wife as he kissed yours,’ and he did so. (ii) Abu Hanbal used to be called ‘Protector of Locusts’. This is because a swarm of locusts once descended upon the courtyard of his house. A group of men then rushed to his house. He asked them: ‘What are you up to?’ They replied: ‘We are after your guests, a swarm of locusts that has descended on your courtyard.’ Abu Hanbal said: ‘Now that you have called them my guests, you will never be allowed near them!’ He then ordered his followers to unsheathe their swords and protect the locusts.

l ite rary ane cdote s   59 to his servants and said: ‘Bring me my pouch of books.’ The pouch was brought in and he examined its seal and found it unbroken. So he broke the seal, took out a notebook and began to compare its contents with my papers. The wording in his solution was more elegant than mine but the end result was the same. He then turned to me and said: ‘This is a problem from the Almagest which I had solved and then hidden away. When you brought me your solution I imagined that it had been stolen from me until I discovered that the wording was different in the two solutions though the result is the same.’ He then ordered several garments to be tailored for me together with a golden belt, all of which were ready for me that very night. I was later introduced to al-Maʾmun, who ordered me to join his court and gave me a regular salary and property. 51. Pre-Islamic Arabian lore Pre-Islamic Arabian lore was always a prominent theme in adab anthologies, a subject of pride for some intellectuals and ridicule for others. The three authors of these four anecdotes are: Ibn Habib (d.  859), a Baghdadi scholar and early anthologist, of whose life little is known; Al-Raghib alIsfahani (d. 1108), on whom see no. 20 above; and Ahmad Zaki Safwat, a modern anthologist of classical Arabic orations. (i) Abu Hanbal was a chieftain proverbial for keeping his word. A man called Imruʾl Qays was a neighbour of another called ʿAmir ibn Juwayn. One day, ʿAmir kissed the wife of Imruʾl Qays and she informed her husband. So Imruʾl Qays set out to find Abu Hanbal and appeal to him for aid and refuge. He did not find Abu Hanbal but found his son, who said to him: ‘I grant you aid and refuge against all mankind except Abu Hanbal.’ Imruʾl Qays accepted this condition and was granted refuge. When Abu Hanbal returned he discovered that Imruʾl Qays possessed vast wealth. His son informed him of the condition he had imposed on Imruʾl Qays. So Abu Hanbal consulted his womenfolk as to whether he should consume that wealth and they all advised him to do so, saying: ‘He does not have a covenant of protection from you.’ Abu Hanbal then set out. Coming to a valley he cried in a loud voice ‘Abu Hanbal is treacherous!’ and the echo came back to him with his words. He called out again: ‘Abu Hanbal keeps his word!’ and again the echo returned his words. Abu Hanbal said: ‘This last echo sounds far better than the first.’ He returned to his house, milked a ewe, drank its milk, passed his hand over his belly and said: ‘Am I to commit treachery when the milk of a ewe has sufficed me?’ So he kept his word to Imruʾl Qays and extended to him his covenant. Imruʾl Qays then informed him that ʿAmir had kissed his wife. So Abu Hanbal rode out with his family, accompanied by Imruʾl Qays, until he reached the house of ʿAmir. To Imruʾl Qays he said: ‘Now kiss his wife as he kissed yours,’ and he did so. (ii) Abu Hanbal used to be called ‘Protector of Locusts’. This is because a swarm of locusts once descended upon the courtyard of his house. A group of men then rushed to his house. He asked them: ‘What are you up to?’ They replied: ‘We are after your guests, a swarm of locusts that has descended on your courtyard.’ Abu Hanbal said: ‘Now that you have called them my guests, you will never be allowed near them!’ He then ordered his followers to unsheathe their swords and protect the locusts.

60  p a r t i , sectio n ii (iii) The chiefs of the tribe of Banu Saʿd came to meet with Aktham ibn Sayfi,1 to ask his advice in the crisis that was about to overwhelm them on the battle day of Kulab. Addressing them, Aktham said: ‘The weakness of old age has spread throughout my body and I no longer possess the sharpness of mind to offer you an immediate opinion. But let us deliberate together and let me hear what you have to say first, for when a sound opinion passes me by I can still recognise its merit.’ 19

(iv) Quss ibn Saʿida2 stood up in the market place of ʿUkaz3 and made the following speech: O people, listen and understand. He who lives must die and he who dies has passed away. Whatever is to come will come. The night is pitch black and the day is overspreading. Heaven with its constellations; stars sparkling; seas heaving; mountains towering; earth laid flat; rivers in their courses: in heaven there are tidings, on earth precepts. What is it with mankind? They depart and do not return. Is it that they are content and so remain where they are, or have they been abandoned and so are asleep?

52. What kings must avoid Ibn al-Tiqtaqa (d. after 1302) was an Iraqi historian and Shiʿite dignitary. It is odious for kings to have an exaggerated desire for women and to fall passionately in love with them, spending their time in seclusion with them. As for consulting them in affairs of state, this simply brings about impotence and corruption and denotes a weakness of opinion. I was told that ʿAdud al-Dawla4 was entranced by one of his slave women and fell madly in love with her. He was diverted from affairs of state to the point where the realm was being adversely affected. His vizier sought him out in private audience and said: ‘O King, your preoccupation with this slave woman has kept you from attending to the affairs of state, and public harm is being done in several respects. The chief cause keeping you from reform is your total preoccupation with this woman. The right course of conduct is to leave her and attend to the damage being done to your realm.’ A few days later, ʿAdud al-Dawla was sitting on a dais overlooking the river Tigris. He summoned the woman to him and conversed with her for an hour or so. Meanwhile, she, totally absorbed in the conversation, lost all sense of self and place, so he pushed her into the river and she drowned. Thereafter his heart was free from her love and he turned back to affairs of state. People marvelled at his act and considered it to be a sign of his force of character, whereby he was resolute enough to kill his beloved. I on the other hand conclude that this denoted not force of character but in fact its opposite, that is his weak character. Had he not felt an immense passion for her he would not have ended it like that. Instead, had he left her alive then deliberately turned away from her, that surely would have denoted strength of character. 20

1 3

Aktham ibn Sayfi: a pre-Islamic sage. 2 Quss ibn Saʿida: semi-legendary orator and Christian bishop. ʿUkaz: a market near Mecca. 4 ʿAdud al-Dawla: ruler of Iraq and Iran, 949–83.

60  p a r t i , sectio n ii (iii) The chiefs of the tribe of Banu Saʿd came to meet with Aktham ibn Sayfi,1 to ask his advice in the crisis that was about to overwhelm them on the battle day of Kulab. Addressing them, Aktham said: ‘The weakness of old age has spread throughout my body and I no longer possess the sharpness of mind to offer you an immediate opinion. But let us deliberate together and let me hear what you have to say first, for when a sound opinion passes me by I can still recognise its merit.’ 19

(iv) Quss ibn Saʿida2 stood up in the market place of ʿUkaz3 and made the following speech: O people, listen and understand. He who lives must die and he who dies has passed away. Whatever is to come will come. The night is pitch black and the day is overspreading. Heaven with its constellations; stars sparkling; seas heaving; mountains towering; earth laid flat; rivers in their courses: in heaven there are tidings, on earth precepts. What is it with mankind? They depart and do not return. Is it that they are content and so remain where they are, or have they been abandoned and so are asleep?

52. What kings must avoid Ibn al-Tiqtaqa (d. after 1302) was an Iraqi historian and Shiʿite dignitary. It is odious for kings to have an exaggerated desire for women and to fall passionately in love with them, spending their time in seclusion with them. As for consulting them in affairs of state, this simply brings about impotence and corruption and denotes a weakness of opinion. I was told that ʿAdud al-Dawla4 was entranced by one of his slave women and fell madly in love with her. He was diverted from affairs of state to the point where the realm was being adversely affected. His vizier sought him out in private audience and said: ‘O King, your preoccupation with this slave woman has kept you from attending to the affairs of state, and public harm is being done in several respects. The chief cause keeping you from reform is your total preoccupation with this woman. The right course of conduct is to leave her and attend to the damage being done to your realm.’ A few days later, ʿAdud al-Dawla was sitting on a dais overlooking the river Tigris. He summoned the woman to him and conversed with her for an hour or so. Meanwhile, she, totally absorbed in the conversation, lost all sense of self and place, so he pushed her into the river and she drowned. Thereafter his heart was free from her love and he turned back to affairs of state. People marvelled at his act and considered it to be a sign of his force of character, whereby he was resolute enough to kill his beloved. I on the other hand conclude that this denoted not force of character but in fact its opposite, that is his weak character. Had he not felt an immense passion for her he would not have ended it like that. Instead, had he left her alive then deliberately turned away from her, that surely would have denoted strength of character. 20

1 3

Aktham ibn Sayfi: a pre-Islamic sage. 2 Quss ibn Saʿida: semi-legendary orator and Christian bishop. ʿUkaz: a market near Mecca. 4 ʿAdud al-Dawla: ruler of Iraq and Iran, 949–83.

argume nt   61

Ar g ument 53. Theology as defined by a philosopher (excerpts) Farabi (d. 950) was the foremost Islamic philosopher of the Aristotelean school. The craft of theology is an aptitude by means of which a person is enabled to defend the specific doctrines and acts enunciated by the founder of a religion, and to falsify all contrary doctrines and arguments. This craft is divided into two parts, a part concerned with doctrines, that is theology, and another with acts, that is jurisprudence. The jurisprudent takes the doctrines and acts enunciated by the founder as given, setting them up as principles from which he deduces things that follow from them. The theologian defends the things that the jurisprudent takes as given but without deducing other things from them. Now as regards the various ways and arguments whereby religions are defended, one group of theologians thinks that defending religion consists in arguing as follows. The doctrines of all religions cannot be judged by human doctrines, or by human reflection and reason. Religious doctrines are more elevated in rank since they are received through divine inspiration and contain divine secrets that human minds are too weak to attain. Furthermore, a human being is so constituted that religions will benefit him through inspiration in matters which his mind fails to attain, for otherwise inspiration would lack all significance and profit if the benefit to a person were confined to what he already knows and can attain through reason and reflection. Had matters been thus, the people would have been left to their own minds, and there would be no need for prophecy or inspiration. But this was not how mankind was created. Therefore, the sciences introduced by religion are such that our minds cannot attain them. And not only that; they are also matters which our minds would reject and disavow. Indeed, whatever is found most worthy of rejection by us is likely to be of most benefit. This is because what religions bring forth of matters found inadmissible by the human mind and unpalatable by the imagination are in reality neither unpalatable nor impossible, but real and true in divine minds. Even were a human being to attain perfection in humanity, his status with respect to divine minds would be that of a child or youth or a simpleton with respect to the perfect man. Just as the minds of many youths and simpletons reject many things which are in reality neither to be rejected nor impossible, so also is the status of one who has reached perfection in the human mind when compared to divine minds. It is for such reasons that theologians think religions should be defended. He who brought us revelation from God is truthful and cannot be said to be a liar. This is proven in two ways: either through miracles effected directly by him or in his presence, or through the testimony of truthful predecessors who testify to his truth and his elevated rank with God, or in both ways together. If we establish his truth through such means, and we establish that he cannot be a liar, there remains no room for reason or contemplation or reflection as regards anything that he says. Another group of theologians defend religion by first reviewing all the terms and expressions used by the founder of a religion. They then review all sensory truths, all self-evident truths and all intelligible truths. If among these, or among what flows directly from them, they find something that testifies to some doctrine in religion, even if far fetched, they use it to defend that doctrine. If they find among them what contradicts a religious ­doctrine,

62  p a r t i , sectio n ii and are able to interpret the term used by the founder of religion in a manner that accords with the contradiction, they do so even if their interpretation is far fetched. If the selfevident, sensory and intelligible truths offer contradictory testimony, they select and adopt the testimony most favourable to religion and cast aside all others and declare them false. Another group of theologians defend their religion by reviewing all other religions, and selecting whatever they find repugnant in them. Then, if someone from those other religions wishes to designate as repugnant something in the religion of the former, they face him with what is repugnant in his religion and so ward him off their own religion. Another group proceed as follows. When they find that the arguments they adduce to defend their doctrines are insufficient to prove these doctrines conclusively, so that their opponent is reduced to silence because the argument is found by him to be conclusive, not because he is incapable of resisting them through argument, they are forced to resort to such means as render him silent and unable to resist them, either from shyness or from fear of harm done to him. Another group are convinced that their religion is true and have no doubts concerning it. They believe that they should defend it against others, make it attractive and remove all ambiguity from it, and ward off opponents in any manner that happens to be at hand. They do not care if they use lying, sophistry, slander or arrogance because they believe that he who opposes their religion is one of two kinds: either an enemy against whom lying and sophistry is permissible in warding him off or defeating him, as in a war for example; or else not an enemy, but one who, due to his weakness of mind and reflection, has failed to recognise that it is in his best interests to embrace that religion. It is then permissible to use lying and sophistry with him to make him recognise his best interests, as is done with women and children. 54. On marvels and oddities of nature (excerpts) Masʿudi (d. 956) was a Baghdadi historian, geographer, traveller and polymath. In this work, we have not included reports of oddities in this world which we have not ascertained to be true through direct perception or an undeniable report or else some other evidence, whereby all doubts are laid to rest. Examples include stories circulating among commoners as to the existence of a creature called the nasnas. This creature allegedly has half a human face, has fangs and is edible. Many commoners believe in stories about the nasnas and that he truly exists in this world. They allege that he lives in China or in other faraway regions of the world. Some say the nasnas is found in the east, others in the west. The easterners say he lives in the west, the westerners in the east. The same goes for all other regions, whose people assert that the nasnas is found in a faraway country. In my travels I found that the people of Hadramawt and the coasts of Oman find the stories of the nasnas to be entertaining but also believe, like all other people, that he lives in some faraway land. This demonstrates that the nasnas does not exist in this world but is the product of the delusions and false imaginings of the commoners. It is not through reason that we deem the existence of the nasnas and similar rare oddities to be impossible, for this is not impossible in divine power. Rather it is because we do not possess an undeniable report of its existence. Hence, it must be included in the category of the possible and cannot be declared impossible. For it is possible that such rare creatures as the

62  p a r t i , sectio n ii and are able to interpret the term used by the founder of religion in a manner that accords with the contradiction, they do so even if their interpretation is far fetched. If the selfevident, sensory and intelligible truths offer contradictory testimony, they select and adopt the testimony most favourable to religion and cast aside all others and declare them false. Another group of theologians defend their religion by reviewing all other religions, and selecting whatever they find repugnant in them. Then, if someone from those other religions wishes to designate as repugnant something in the religion of the former, they face him with what is repugnant in his religion and so ward him off their own religion. Another group proceed as follows. When they find that the arguments they adduce to defend their doctrines are insufficient to prove these doctrines conclusively, so that their opponent is reduced to silence because the argument is found by him to be conclusive, not because he is incapable of resisting them through argument, they are forced to resort to such means as render him silent and unable to resist them, either from shyness or from fear of harm done to him. Another group are convinced that their religion is true and have no doubts concerning it. They believe that they should defend it against others, make it attractive and remove all ambiguity from it, and ward off opponents in any manner that happens to be at hand. They do not care if they use lying, sophistry, slander or arrogance because they believe that he who opposes their religion is one of two kinds: either an enemy against whom lying and sophistry is permissible in warding him off or defeating him, as in a war for example; or else not an enemy, but one who, due to his weakness of mind and reflection, has failed to recognise that it is in his best interests to embrace that religion. It is then permissible to use lying and sophistry with him to make him recognise his best interests, as is done with women and children. 54. On marvels and oddities of nature (excerpts) Masʿudi (d. 956) was a Baghdadi historian, geographer, traveller and polymath. In this work, we have not included reports of oddities in this world which we have not ascertained to be true through direct perception or an undeniable report or else some other evidence, whereby all doubts are laid to rest. Examples include stories circulating among commoners as to the existence of a creature called the nasnas. This creature allegedly has half a human face, has fangs and is edible. Many commoners believe in stories about the nasnas and that he truly exists in this world. They allege that he lives in China or in other faraway regions of the world. Some say the nasnas is found in the east, others in the west. The easterners say he lives in the west, the westerners in the east. The same goes for all other regions, whose people assert that the nasnas is found in a faraway country. In my travels I found that the people of Hadramawt and the coasts of Oman find the stories of the nasnas to be entertaining but also believe, like all other people, that he lives in some faraway land. This demonstrates that the nasnas does not exist in this world but is the product of the delusions and false imaginings of the commoners. It is not through reason that we deem the existence of the nasnas and similar rare oddities to be impossible, for this is not impossible in divine power. Rather it is because we do not possess an undeniable report of its existence. Hence, it must be included in the category of the possible and cannot be declared impossible. For it is possible that such rare creatures as the

argume nt   63 nasnas, ʿanqaʾ, ghul1 and so forth might be types of animals in which nature, while carrying them from potentiality to actuality, did not perfect its work as it does with other types of animals. Accordingly they remained odd, wild and rare, tending to inhabit remote regions of the earth and quite distinct from other types of animals, whether endowed or unendowed with speech. This is so because of their essence, which is contrary to the essence of other animals perfected by nature, and because of their incompatibility with other animal species. 21

55. Can a woman be a prophet? Ibn Hazm (d. 1064) of Cordoba was a vizier, theologian, jurist, poet and man of letters of great renown. This is a topic which, so far as I know, excited great controversy only in our city of Cordoba and only in my own lifetime. A group of scholars denied that prophecy could subsist in women at all, and they declared heretical whoever held the contrary view. Another group argued that prophecy did subsist among women in the past, while yet another suspended judgement regarding the issue. I am not aware of any other argument advanced by the deniers except the Qurʾanic verse {We sent not before you except men whom We inspired} [Q.21:7]. One cannot of course deny this fact, nor has anyone claimed that God ever sent a woman as a messenger with a revelation. The argument, however, is over prophecy (nubuwwa) rather than a message with a revelation (risala). Therefore, one must proceed to investigate the truth of the matter by examining the meaning of the term ‘prophecy’ as employed in the language in which the Almighty addressed us. If we do so, we find that the term nubuwwa is derived from inbaʾ, which means ‘to communicate’ or ‘to inform’. Whoso is informed by God of what is to happen before it happens, or is otherwise inspired by God with information regarding any matter, must without doubt be considered a prophet. This is not the sort of inspiration which occurs by nature, as in the Qurʾanic verse {Your Lord inspired the bees} [Q.16:68], nor is it related to soothsaying, which came to an end with the coming of Muhammad, nor is it akin to astrology, nor to a visionary experience, whose truth cannot be distinguished from error. Rather, the inspiration that can properly be called prophetic is one where God intends to inform the person inspired of something He wishes to teach him, whereby the moment of inspiration is a true and genuine occurrence, unlike all other types of inspiration cited above. God creates in the person inspired a necessary knowledge regarding the truth of the inspiration, similar to the person’s knowledge as derived from the senses or from self-evident reason, and in such a manner that no doubt whatever remains about any of it. This is done either through an angel who comes to that person or else through a speech communicated to him in his soul. In both cases, it is something taught by the Almighty without an intermediary teacher. If anyone disputes this definition of prophecy, let him tell me what their definition is, and I very much doubt whether they can. This being so, the Qurʾan informs us that angels were sent to several women to relay a true inspiration from the Almighty. Thus, they brought glad tidings to the mother of Isaac regarding the birth of Isaac and Jacob. This speech cannot be anything other than one from an angel to a prophet. Similarly, the Almighty sent the angel Gabriel to Mary to tell her that a pure child was to be born to her. This is a genuine prophecy and a true inspiration that constitutes

1

ʿAnqaʾ: a mythical bird; ghul: = English ghoul.

argume nt   63 nasnas, ʿanqaʾ, ghul1 and so forth might be types of animals in which nature, while carrying them from potentiality to actuality, did not perfect its work as it does with other types of animals. Accordingly they remained odd, wild and rare, tending to inhabit remote regions of the earth and quite distinct from other types of animals, whether endowed or unendowed with speech. This is so because of their essence, which is contrary to the essence of other animals perfected by nature, and because of their incompatibility with other animal species. 21

55. Can a woman be a prophet? Ibn Hazm (d. 1064) of Cordoba was a vizier, theologian, jurist, poet and man of letters of great renown. This is a topic which, so far as I know, excited great controversy only in our city of Cordoba and only in my own lifetime. A group of scholars denied that prophecy could subsist in women at all, and they declared heretical whoever held the contrary view. Another group argued that prophecy did subsist among women in the past, while yet another suspended judgement regarding the issue. I am not aware of any other argument advanced by the deniers except the Qurʾanic verse {We sent not before you except men whom We inspired} [Q.21:7]. One cannot of course deny this fact, nor has anyone claimed that God ever sent a woman as a messenger with a revelation. The argument, however, is over prophecy (nubuwwa) rather than a message with a revelation (risala). Therefore, one must proceed to investigate the truth of the matter by examining the meaning of the term ‘prophecy’ as employed in the language in which the Almighty addressed us. If we do so, we find that the term nubuwwa is derived from inbaʾ, which means ‘to communicate’ or ‘to inform’. Whoso is informed by God of what is to happen before it happens, or is otherwise inspired by God with information regarding any matter, must without doubt be considered a prophet. This is not the sort of inspiration which occurs by nature, as in the Qurʾanic verse {Your Lord inspired the bees} [Q.16:68], nor is it related to soothsaying, which came to an end with the coming of Muhammad, nor is it akin to astrology, nor to a visionary experience, whose truth cannot be distinguished from error. Rather, the inspiration that can properly be called prophetic is one where God intends to inform the person inspired of something He wishes to teach him, whereby the moment of inspiration is a true and genuine occurrence, unlike all other types of inspiration cited above. God creates in the person inspired a necessary knowledge regarding the truth of the inspiration, similar to the person’s knowledge as derived from the senses or from self-evident reason, and in such a manner that no doubt whatever remains about any of it. This is done either through an angel who comes to that person or else through a speech communicated to him in his soul. In both cases, it is something taught by the Almighty without an intermediary teacher. If anyone disputes this definition of prophecy, let him tell me what their definition is, and I very much doubt whether they can. This being so, the Qurʾan informs us that angels were sent to several women to relay a true inspiration from the Almighty. Thus, they brought glad tidings to the mother of Isaac regarding the birth of Isaac and Jacob. This speech cannot be anything other than one from an angel to a prophet. Similarly, the Almighty sent the angel Gabriel to Mary to tell her that a pure child was to be born to her. This is a genuine prophecy and a true inspiration that constitutes

1

ʿAnqaʾ: a mythical bird; ghul: = English ghoul.

64  p a r t i , sectio n ii a message to her from the Almighty. So too was the mother of Moses inspired by God to throw her child in the water, and was further informed that the Almighty would restore him to her and make him a messenger and a prophet. This is an undoubted prophecy, necessarily confirmed by reason, since any person endowed with a sound mind would conclude that, had she not been totally confident of God’s prophecy, her throwing the child in the water, because of some vision or hallucination, would have been an act of madness. Hence the inspiration that came to her is like the inspiration that came to Abraham to sacrifice his son. For had he too not been a prophet totally confident of the truth of his prophecy, anyone who did what he did without being a prophet would have been considered an execrable criminal or a madman. Accordingly the prophecy of women is established beyond doubt. 56. Paradise is a bore Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi (d. circa 1010) of Baghdad was a man of letters and mystic, but with wide scientific interests. I once heard the theologian Abu Ishaq al-Nasibi say: ‘How amazing is the condition in which the people of paradise find themselves!’ He was asked ‘How so?’ and he responded: ‘Because they remain there for all eternity, having nothing else to do but eat, drink and copulate. Do they not get bored? Do they not grow tired? Do they not deem themselves above such a despicable existence, akin to that of dumb animals? Do they never disdain that life or grow weary of it?’ I repeated these words exactly as I heard them to Abu Sulayman,1 as also the specific ­arguments adduced by al-Nasibi. In answer Abu Sulayman said: 22

He is of course in total confusion because his confusion springs from the senses and from nowhere else. This is so in all cases where anything is inculcated or detected by the senses. For it is true that the senses induce boredom and fatigue, weariness and alienation, tedium and repulsion. This is a widely known and well-established effect upon people who judge by the senses. But this is not the case with the afterlife if considered from the viewpoint of the intellect, for the intellect does not grow weary nor is it afflicted by pain and fatigue, nor overcome by silence, nor whittled by boredom. This is how the intellect is defined, by both manifest proof and necessity. If only al-Nasibi’s intellect and that of his like-minded friends could grasp this! Does he not know that the intellect in this present life, with all its impurities, corruption, sorrows and ruination, is never wearied by the intelligibles, never abandons its quest, never seeks relief from them in any way? Rather, once the intellect finds its intelligible and unites with it, it comes alive and no distance separates it from its intelligible. So how will it be when the intellect arrives at that world of absolutes where there is no becoming and no change, that is to say absolute existence, where anything that you define by one attribute after another remains far above reach, where anything you seek to explain by one explanation after another remains for ever hidden?

1

Abu Sulayman al-Mantiqi (d. circa 1000): a famous philosopher and the author’s ‘guru’.

64  p a r t i , sectio n ii a message to her from the Almighty. So too was the mother of Moses inspired by God to throw her child in the water, and was further informed that the Almighty would restore him to her and make him a messenger and a prophet. This is an undoubted prophecy, necessarily confirmed by reason, since any person endowed with a sound mind would conclude that, had she not been totally confident of God’s prophecy, her throwing the child in the water, because of some vision or hallucination, would have been an act of madness. Hence the inspiration that came to her is like the inspiration that came to Abraham to sacrifice his son. For had he too not been a prophet totally confident of the truth of his prophecy, anyone who did what he did without being a prophet would have been considered an execrable criminal or a madman. Accordingly the prophecy of women is established beyond doubt. 56. Paradise is a bore Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi (d. circa 1010) of Baghdad was a man of letters and mystic, but with wide scientific interests. I once heard the theologian Abu Ishaq al-Nasibi say: ‘How amazing is the condition in which the people of paradise find themselves!’ He was asked ‘How so?’ and he responded: ‘Because they remain there for all eternity, having nothing else to do but eat, drink and copulate. Do they not get bored? Do they not grow tired? Do they not deem themselves above such a despicable existence, akin to that of dumb animals? Do they never disdain that life or grow weary of it?’ I repeated these words exactly as I heard them to Abu Sulayman,1 as also the specific ­arguments adduced by al-Nasibi. In answer Abu Sulayman said: 22

He is of course in total confusion because his confusion springs from the senses and from nowhere else. This is so in all cases where anything is inculcated or detected by the senses. For it is true that the senses induce boredom and fatigue, weariness and alienation, tedium and repulsion. This is a widely known and well-established effect upon people who judge by the senses. But this is not the case with the afterlife if considered from the viewpoint of the intellect, for the intellect does not grow weary nor is it afflicted by pain and fatigue, nor overcome by silence, nor whittled by boredom. This is how the intellect is defined, by both manifest proof and necessity. If only al-Nasibi’s intellect and that of his like-minded friends could grasp this! Does he not know that the intellect in this present life, with all its impurities, corruption, sorrows and ruination, is never wearied by the intelligibles, never abandons its quest, never seeks relief from them in any way? Rather, once the intellect finds its intelligible and unites with it, it comes alive and no distance separates it from its intelligible. So how will it be when the intellect arrives at that world of absolutes where there is no becoming and no change, that is to say absolute existence, where anything that you define by one attribute after another remains far above reach, where anything you seek to explain by one explanation after another remains for ever hidden?

1

Abu Sulayman al-Mantiqi (d. circa 1000): a famous philosopher and the author’s ‘guru’.

argume nt   65 57. What is laughter? Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi I once asked Abu Sulayman: ‘What is laughter?’ He dictated the following answer: Laughter is a power that rises between two other powers, the intellectual and the animal. It is a state of the soul when it experiences a sudden intrusion. This definition is related in one respect to the intellectual power, for the intrusion is a form of surprise, and surprise comes from seeking the reason and cause for that which has intruded. From another aspect it follows the animal power as it issues from the soul, which moves either inwards or outwards. If this movement is sudden and in one surge, anger is the result; but when it moves by degrees and moderately, the result is pleasure and joy. If it moves from outside to inside in one surge, fear is the result; but if it moves gradually a sense of the comic is the result. It may also alternate between moving inwards and outwards, and the result is states induced by laughter when the two powers contend in seeking the cause. At one moment the cause is judged to be one thing, at another moment another. That power then flows in the spirit until it issues in anger thus causing two opposite motions. From this occurs the burst of laughter seen on the face because of the multitude of sensations, whereas anger surmounts these sensations one after the other.

58. A division of existents Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi I heard Abu Sulayman say: ‘I dreamt once that I was debating with Ibn al-ʿAmid1 over certain topics in the Physics of Aristotle. We were engaged in dividing existents and I said: “Existents may also be divided in another manner into hidden in themselves and hidden in act, manifest in themselves and manifest in act, hidden in themselves and manifest in act, or manifest in themselves and hidden in act. The first is the Exalted Creator, the second are warmth and coldness and such like, the third is nature and the fourth are the heavenly bodies.”’ 23

59. A humorous exchange on the subject of miserliness Ibn Qutayba (d. 889), a major figure in the new literary movement of the Abbasid period, was an anthologist, essayist and religious scholar from Baghdad. Jahiz (d. 869) said: I once said to al-Hizami: ‘Are you content to be called a miser by people?’   ‘May God never deprive me of that name,’ he replied.   ‘How so?’ I said.

1

Ibn al-ʿAmid (d. 970): vizier and scholar.

argume nt   65 57. What is laughter? Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi I once asked Abu Sulayman: ‘What is laughter?’ He dictated the following answer: Laughter is a power that rises between two other powers, the intellectual and the animal. It is a state of the soul when it experiences a sudden intrusion. This definition is related in one respect to the intellectual power, for the intrusion is a form of surprise, and surprise comes from seeking the reason and cause for that which has intruded. From another aspect it follows the animal power as it issues from the soul, which moves either inwards or outwards. If this movement is sudden and in one surge, anger is the result; but when it moves by degrees and moderately, the result is pleasure and joy. If it moves from outside to inside in one surge, fear is the result; but if it moves gradually a sense of the comic is the result. It may also alternate between moving inwards and outwards, and the result is states induced by laughter when the two powers contend in seeking the cause. At one moment the cause is judged to be one thing, at another moment another. That power then flows in the spirit until it issues in anger thus causing two opposite motions. From this occurs the burst of laughter seen on the face because of the multitude of sensations, whereas anger surmounts these sensations one after the other.

58. A division of existents Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi I heard Abu Sulayman say: ‘I dreamt once that I was debating with Ibn al-ʿAmid1 over certain topics in the Physics of Aristotle. We were engaged in dividing existents and I said: “Existents may also be divided in another manner into hidden in themselves and hidden in act, manifest in themselves and manifest in act, hidden in themselves and manifest in act, or manifest in themselves and hidden in act. The first is the Exalted Creator, the second are warmth and coldness and such like, the third is nature and the fourth are the heavenly bodies.”’ 23

59. A humorous exchange on the subject of miserliness Ibn Qutayba (d. 889), a major figure in the new literary movement of the Abbasid period, was an anthologist, essayist and religious scholar from Baghdad. Jahiz (d. 869) said: I once said to al-Hizami: ‘Are you content to be called a miser by people?’   ‘May God never deprive me of that name,’ he replied.   ‘How so?’ I said.

1

Ibn al-ʿAmid (d. 970): vizier and scholar.

argume nt   65 57. What is laughter? Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi I once asked Abu Sulayman: ‘What is laughter?’ He dictated the following answer: Laughter is a power that rises between two other powers, the intellectual and the animal. It is a state of the soul when it experiences a sudden intrusion. This definition is related in one respect to the intellectual power, for the intrusion is a form of surprise, and surprise comes from seeking the reason and cause for that which has intruded. From another aspect it follows the animal power as it issues from the soul, which moves either inwards or outwards. If this movement is sudden and in one surge, anger is the result; but when it moves by degrees and moderately, the result is pleasure and joy. If it moves from outside to inside in one surge, fear is the result; but if it moves gradually a sense of the comic is the result. It may also alternate between moving inwards and outwards, and the result is states induced by laughter when the two powers contend in seeking the cause. At one moment the cause is judged to be one thing, at another moment another. That power then flows in the spirit until it issues in anger thus causing two opposite motions. From this occurs the burst of laughter seen on the face because of the multitude of sensations, whereas anger surmounts these sensations one after the other.

58. A division of existents Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi I heard Abu Sulayman say: ‘I dreamt once that I was debating with Ibn al-ʿAmid1 over certain topics in the Physics of Aristotle. We were engaged in dividing existents and I said: “Existents may also be divided in another manner into hidden in themselves and hidden in act, manifest in themselves and manifest in act, hidden in themselves and manifest in act, or manifest in themselves and hidden in act. The first is the Exalted Creator, the second are warmth and coldness and such like, the third is nature and the fourth are the heavenly bodies.”’ 23

59. A humorous exchange on the subject of miserliness Ibn Qutayba (d. 889), a major figure in the new literary movement of the Abbasid period, was an anthologist, essayist and religious scholar from Baghdad. Jahiz (d. 869) said: I once said to al-Hizami: ‘Are you content to be called a miser by people?’   ‘May God never deprive me of that name,’ he replied.   ‘How so?’ I said.

1

Ibn al-ʿAmid (d. 970): vizier and scholar.

66  p a r t i , sectio n ii   ‘Because you don’t call someone a miser unless he is wealthy. Give me wealth and call me whatever you want.’   ‘But so too with generosity,’ I said. ‘You don’t call someone generous unless he’s wealthy. The word “generous” combines wealth with praise, whereas the word “miser” combines wealth with censure.’   ‘Ah, but there’s a difference.’   ‘Let’s have it,’ I said.   ‘When you call someone a miser, you are saying that he is determined to keep a tight grip over his wealth, and when you call someone generous you refer to wealth leaving his possession. So the term “miser” combines determination with censure while the term “generous” combines loss of wealth with praise. Fixed and stable wealth is beneficial to its owner, giving him dignity and power, whereas praise is like a breeze and is often false. To take praise seriously is a characteristic of the weak minded and ignoble. What possible use can praise be to one who is hungry and unclothed, whose family is broken up, and whose enemy delights at his misfortune?’ 60. An argument over date wine Al-Zajjaji (d. 951) was a grammarian who lived and taught in Baghdad, Aleppo and Damascus. Of all the scholars of Kufa, ʿAbdullah ibn Idris al-Awdi took the view that date wine (nabidh) was illicit. One day he said: ‘Would that I could find a scholar of the law who would debate the issue with me so I can prove to him conclusively that date wine is illicit.’ Eventually Yahya ibn Adam1 came forward to debate that issue, holding the view that date wine was licit. ʿAbdullah said to Yahya: ‘Let us put aside the traditions of Muhammad (Hadith), for you might use the traditions that declare it licit against me, and let us instead resort to reason. Do you not say that drunkenness is illicit?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ Yahya replied. ‘And the cup from which man drinks till he is drunk?’ ‘Yes,’ said Yahya. ‘What would you say of a man who drank nine cups of date wine and did not get drunk?’ ‘This is licit.’ ‘And what if he drinks a tenth cup and becomes drunk?’ ‘That is illicit,’ said Yahya, ‘but had not the tenth cup been preceded by nine others he would not have become drunk.’ Yahya then asked: ‘What would you say of a man who has four wives, can he marry another?’ ‘No,’ said ʿAbdullah. ‘What about the four who came before? Were they licit?’ ‘Yes,’ said ʿAbdullah. ‘So then, had it not been for the four previous wives the fifth wife would not have been illicit.’ ‘You tricked me,’ said ʿAbdullah. ‘Ah,’ said Yahya, ‘The Prophet said “War is trickery”.’ 24

1

Yahya ibn Adam (d. 818) was a famous jurist.

66  p a r t i , sectio n ii   ‘Because you don’t call someone a miser unless he is wealthy. Give me wealth and call me whatever you want.’   ‘But so too with generosity,’ I said. ‘You don’t call someone generous unless he’s wealthy. The word “generous” combines wealth with praise, whereas the word “miser” combines wealth with censure.’   ‘Ah, but there’s a difference.’   ‘Let’s have it,’ I said.   ‘When you call someone a miser, you are saying that he is determined to keep a tight grip over his wealth, and when you call someone generous you refer to wealth leaving his possession. So the term “miser” combines determination with censure while the term “generous” combines loss of wealth with praise. Fixed and stable wealth is beneficial to its owner, giving him dignity and power, whereas praise is like a breeze and is often false. To take praise seriously is a characteristic of the weak minded and ignoble. What possible use can praise be to one who is hungry and unclothed, whose family is broken up, and whose enemy delights at his misfortune?’ 60. An argument over date wine Al-Zajjaji (d. 951) was a grammarian who lived and taught in Baghdad, Aleppo and Damascus. Of all the scholars of Kufa, ʿAbdullah ibn Idris al-Awdi took the view that date wine (nabidh) was illicit. One day he said: ‘Would that I could find a scholar of the law who would debate the issue with me so I can prove to him conclusively that date wine is illicit.’ Eventually Yahya ibn Adam1 came forward to debate that issue, holding the view that date wine was licit. ʿAbdullah said to Yahya: ‘Let us put aside the traditions of Muhammad (Hadith), for you might use the traditions that declare it licit against me, and let us instead resort to reason. Do you not say that drunkenness is illicit?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ Yahya replied. ‘And the cup from which man drinks till he is drunk?’ ‘Yes,’ said Yahya. ‘What would you say of a man who drank nine cups of date wine and did not get drunk?’ ‘This is licit.’ ‘And what if he drinks a tenth cup and becomes drunk?’ ‘That is illicit,’ said Yahya, ‘but had not the tenth cup been preceded by nine others he would not have become drunk.’ Yahya then asked: ‘What would you say of a man who has four wives, can he marry another?’ ‘No,’ said ʿAbdullah. ‘What about the four who came before? Were they licit?’ ‘Yes,’ said ʿAbdullah. ‘So then, had it not been for the four previous wives the fifth wife would not have been illicit.’ ‘You tricked me,’ said ʿAbdullah. ‘Ah,’ said Yahya, ‘The Prophet said “War is trickery”.’ 24

1

Yahya ibn Adam (d. 818) was a famous jurist.

argume nt   67 61. The symptoms of love Ibn Hazm Love has symptoms easily recognised by a quick mind or deduced by an intelligent person. The first symptom is a long and steady gaze, for the eye is like the open door of the soul, delving into its secrets, expressing its hidden thoughts and revealing what lies within. The person who gazes can barely blink. The eye follows the movement of the beloved, withdraws its gaze when the beloved withdraws, and turns where the beloved turns, like a chameleon following the sun. Another symptom is conversation and how it is directed. The lover can barely address anyone else save the beloved. A certain affectation is detectable by anyone who observes. There is total absorption in the conversation of the beloved, an expression of wonder at anything the beloved might say, even if she speaks of impossibilities or miracles of nature. Anything uttered is immediately believed even if it is a bare-faced lie; agreement is expressed even with outrageous views; corroboration of testimony is offered even if unjust. The beloved is followed wherever she leads and whatever manner of speech is heard. Another symptom is walking fast to the place where the beloved may be found, deliberately seeking to sit next to the beloved or to draw near, ignoring all duties that necessitate absence from the beloved and holding as trivial any grave event that might require absence from her. When departing from the beloved, the lover’s walk becomes slow. Another symptom is a certain stupefaction that occurs and an expression of utter ­amazement on the lover’s face when the beloved is encountered unexpectedly or appears unannounced. Then again the lover will look perplexed when someone resembling the beloved is glimpsed or when the name of the beloved is mentioned suddenly. Another symptom is that the lover gives generously all that he can where once he had refrained from doing so, and then acts as if he were the recipient of generosity or benefit. The lover does all this to display his good qualities and to make himself desirable. How many a miser suddenly turned generous! How many a frowning person suddenly became cheerful! How many a coward turned courageous! How many a vulgar person suddenly became refined! How many a bad-tempered person suddenly became docile! How many a person who shunned all perfumes and finery suddenly began to adorn himself! How many a poor person did all he could to make himself presentable! How many an old person began to act like a youth! How many an ascetic person abandoned all self-restraint and did what he pleased! How many a virtuous spouse threw away all shame! All these symptoms occur before the flames of love are blazing and its sparks begin to fly. Once love has taken hold and reached its furthest extent, you will then notice how all conversation is done in whispers, and how obvious and public is the turning away from everyone present except the beloved. Among the symptoms of that state, clear to all who can see, are the following: excessive mirth in a confined space and unease in open spaces; lovers tugging coyly to remove some object from each other’s hands; a great deal of subtle winking; leaning upon one another; deliberately touching hands when conversing; touching any exposed part of the body; one drinking the dregs of what the other left behind in a cup; and taking great care in selecting their trysting place. But there are also contrary symptoms, and these vary in accordance with desires, whims and exciting thoughts. For opposites are alike, and when things become excessively contrary and have reached the furthest limit of their difference they become similar. Thus, if a ball of snow is held long enough in the palm of a hand it soon acts like fire. Excessive joy can often be fatal,

68  p a r t i , sectio n ii as can excessive grief, and excessive laughter causes weeping. The same is true of our lovers. Hence we find that if their love for one another is of equal strength and has taken a firm hold of them both, they begin to forsake one another for no reason; they deliberately contradict each other’s views; they express opposite opinions regarding even the silliest of matters and they snatch at every word that falls from each other’s lips and then deliberately misinterpret it. This is all like a test to find out what each truly thinks of the other. But the difference between this sort of lovers’ quarrel and a real falling out or an enmity that springs from hatred and the mutual vexations of discord is the speed of reconciliation. Observe two lovers who appear to have reached the furthest limit of discord. You might then conclude that this kind of quarrel cannot possibly be patched up in the case of a person whose soul is at peace or free from rancour except after many years, and never in the case of a truly spiteful individual. But soon enough you will see lovers returning to the loveliest sort of companionship, all recrimination has disappeared, no discord remains and they at once revert to mutual jollity and flirtation, all this happening repeatedly and simultaneously. If you observe this sort of behaviour in two people you can rest assured, indeed be absolutely certain, that a deep and secret love binds them together. But this only occurs when love and devotion are mutual. I myself have observed this sort of behaviour countless times. If, however, a lover does not feel confident that the beloved reciprocates his love, you will see him very restrained in uttering what once he uttered without restraint, very attentive to his choice of words, and taking trouble with his body movements and with where he looks, especially if through bad luck he is smitten with a beloved of easy virtue or evil traits. As for me, I have frequented the courts of caliphs and witnessed the assemblies of kings but never saw an awe to equal the awe of a lover for his beloved. I have seen those who usurped power and viziers exercising absolute authority as also the ease and relaxation of rulers of states. But I never observed any greater self-confidence or any greater joy than that of a lover who is sure that the heart of his beloved is securely his, and is certain that his love is reciprocated. Then again, I have witnessed those who humbly offered their apologies to rulers and the behaviour of those accused of heinous crimes before tyrannical usurpers. But I never saw any greater humility or a more abject demeanour than that of a lover, totally smitten, in the presence of an angry beloved overcome with indignation and aversion. I myself have experienced both these states. In the first instance I felt myself to be stronger than steel and sharper than a sword, deaf to all meek entreaty and averse to all submissiveness. In the second instance I felt humbler than a tattered garment, softer than a ball of cotton, grasping at the very extremity of humiliation, seeking any opportunity to offer my total submission if only it would be accepted, setting my tongue loose, delving with all the eloquence at my command into the depths of meanings, loading my words with as much charm as I could muster and clutching at any excuse that might lead to reconciliation.

se xual ity    69

Sexua lity 62. Sexual manners Ghazali Let us now speak of the manners appropriate to sexual intercourse. It is desirable that intercourse should commence with the mention of God’s name and the recital of sura 112 ({He is God, Unique}). The man should say ‘God is great’ and ‘There is no god but God’, then he should utter the following prayer: ‘In the name of Almighty God. O God, make this a virtuous progeny if You are able to make it issue forth from my loins.’ The Prophet said: ‘When one of you approaches his wife in the sexual act he should say “O God, protect me from Satan and protect our progeny from him”. If a child is born to them, Satan will not harm him.’ When near to ejaculation, you must say silently to yourself, without moving your lips: ‘Praise be to God Who {created a human being from water and conferred on him kinship of blood and of marriage. Your Lord is Ever-Powerful} [Q.25:54].’ The husband and wife must cover themselves with a garment. The Prophet used to cover himself and lower his voice and tell his wife: ‘Be calm and quiet.’ Another saying of the Prophet on this subject is as follows: ‘When one of you engages in the sexual act with his wife, they must not be in a state of nudity, like asses copulating.’ The sexual act must be preceded by soft speech and kisses, for the Prophet said: ‘You should not fall upon your wife like a dumb beast but let there be a messenger between you.’ He was asked: ‘What is that messenger, Prophet of God?’ He answered: ‘Kissing and soft speech.’ The Prophet also said: ‘There are three qualities which indicate a shortcoming in a man: when he meets someone with whom he would like to be acquainted but leaves him without knowing his name and his genealogy; secondly, when someone does him a favour but he rejects that favour; thirdly, when a man engages in the sexual act with his wife or slave girl and performs the act before talking to her in a friendly and intimate manner, and then satisfies his desire for her before she has satisfied her desire for him.’ Once he has satisfied his desire, the man should wait for his wife until she too has satisfied her desire, for her ejaculation may be delayed and this will intensify her desire. If the man leaves her in this state, he would be doing her harm. The difference in the nature of ejaculation between male and female leads to mutual antipathy so long as the husband is the first to ejaculate. Hence, simultaneous ejaculation is more pleasurable to the woman than to have the man lose interest for she may well be too shy to protest.

70  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Reflectio n s on his t or y 63. Civilisations and religious beliefs Jahiz Mankind singles out religion for absurdity of error and outrageous statements in a manner in which it singles out no other science, opinion, art or craft. Consider the farmers, craftsmen, carpenters, surveyors, draughtsmen, scribes and accountants, of every nation and of every religion. Among them you will not find any significant divergence in understanding, reason and craftsmanship nor in excess of error and deficiency such as you will find in their religious beliefs or in their mental abilities when they come to choose their religion. The evidence for my view is that the nations which are considered pre-eminent for their rationality, eloquence, right opinions, literary merit and diversity of crafts are four in number: the Arabs, Indians, Byzantines and Persians. Once you move them away from worldly subjects and on to the subject of religion, you would think that they had become feeble minded and their native intelligence had become enslaved. Take the ancient Arabs. They were endowed with a number of attributes, among which are eloquence unequalled anywhere; a language unrivalled by any other in its breadth; and the arts of tracking and physiognomy. There is no nation on earth but the Arabs who, having examined persons very diverse in visage, height or colour, will deduce that this dark-skinned person is the son of that light-skinned fellow, this tall person is the son of that short one, or that this ugly person is the uncle of that handsome one. Or else consider their poetry, whose excellence no other nation can come near. And yet, with all their native intelligence, generosity of nature, eloquence, breadth of knowledge, admirable opinions and great dignity of bearing, they worshipped stones, swore oaths by them, protected them from being broken or erased, bowed down before them and called them gods. They believed that if a murdered person was not avenged by his next of kin, a bird was created from his head called the hama, which would continue to screech at his grave and bewail the impotence of his next of kin until the resurrection. If their lands experienced drought and they wished for rain, they would take hold of a camel, dark yellow in colour, tie a cotton-like shrub to its tail, lead it up into a mountain, set fire to its tail, then pray in all earnestness, claiming that if they did not do so, no god would answer their prayers. My purpose in all this is to show how a rational human being can be so contradictory when it comes to matters mundane and religious. Once a person plunges into issues like credulity and incredulity, faith and unbelief, he ends up far removed from the rationality he once exhibited. Or take the Indians. You will find them pre-eminent in mathematics, astronomy and especially geomancy, in medicine and especially pharmacology, in sculpture and painting with pigments. It was they who invented chess, the noblest of games and the one requiring most strategy and intelligence. Magic, fumigation and lengthy orations are also among their attainments, as also are their wisdom, chivalry and a patience unrivalled by any nation. All this in addition to their handsome attire and laudable morality. And yet they worship idols of the Buddha, which their own hands had carved, and for which they build temples like the mosques of Muslims. In these temples there are maidens, daughters of chieftains, consecrated to these idols for purposes of drawing near to the idols and for vows and penances. In these temples are also found male nude ascetics and monks who claim they have renounced the world, who do not touch water, and who purify themselves with their own urine. These men are tested

re f l e ctions on history    71 with the maidens: whoever desires these maidens and grows lustful is held to have committed the greatest of crimes. He is tortured and then killed. This applies only to the ascetics; other people are not thought sinful if they copulate with these maidens. This is another instance of how Indians combine wisdom in matters mundane with abject ignorance in matters religious. Or take the Byzantines. Among them you will find physicians, philosophers and astronomers. It was they who developed the science of music, and the art of engraving and bookbinding. They are unequalled in painting. Their painter paints a person leaving no detail out; not satisfied with this, he paints him young or old, weeping or laughing, handsome, soft or beautiful. Not satisfied with this, he can distinguish in his portrait between malicious and innocent laughter, between a smile of happiness and a smile of wonder. In architecture they have no equal, nor in sculpture, carpentry and craftsmanship. Moreover, they possess a divine revelation and a revealed religion. And yet, they hold that God is three, that a creature became a creator, a servant became a lord, that a created being became eternal, that he was killed and crucified and was then lost, that a crown of thorns was placed on his head, that he resurrected himself after he died, that he allowed his worshippers to arrest him, then empowered them to kill and crucify him in order to comfort his children and make them emulate his example. Had we not seen it with our own eyes and heard it with our own ears, we would not have believed or admitted that a nation of theologians, physicians, astronomers, a people so shrewd as mathematicians and state secretaries, and of excellence in all crafts, can possibly say of a man whom they saw eating, drinking, urinating and defecating, one who went hungry and thirsty, that he is a creator god, that he dispenses livelihoods, that he is eternal and not created, that he causes the living to die and the dead to rise again. They then boast of his death and resurrection. Or take the Persians. Here we find rational minds found nowhere else, statesmanship like no other, marvellous political thought and kingship, buttressed by sound administration and total foresight. And yet, they allow copulation with mothers, they eat carrion, they use urine for their ablutions even when water is ready to hand, and they glorify fire which they themselves kindle and can put out if they wish. They hold that God was all by himself with no one beside him; that when his solitude grew long he felt lonesome; that when lonesome he thought; that from his thought was born Ahriman, who is Satan; that when Ahriman appeared before God, God wanted to kill him, but that when he tried to do so Ahriman resisted him successfully, so God compacted with him for a stated term of life. Ahriman, however, plotted treachery, which is his wont, and began to create various kinds of evil to strengthen himself against God. When God learnt of this he began to create all sorts of virtues, whereupon each troop was marshalled opposite the other. God thus came to possess superior power and is called the ‘eternal’ instead of Ahriman. Here’s another piece of evidence to prove how little attention people devote to religious matters, and how they are wont to glorify men, surrender themselves to their early upbringing, follow their prejudices and whims, content themselves with ancient emotions, and hate rational analysis. Look at how most people in Basra prefer ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan1, how most Kufans prefer ʿAli ibn Abi Talib,2 how most Syrians follow the cult of the Umayyads.3 Some mistakenly argue that this is due to their horoscope, others that it is due to their native soil. But this is entirely due to the emulation of ancestors and the desire to glorify certain men. If 25

ʿUthman ibn ʿAffan (d. 656): third of the four so-called ‘Rightly Guided’ caliphs, the immediate successors of Muhammad. 2 ʿAli ibn Abi Talib (d. 661): fourth of the ‘Rightly Guided’ caliphs and object of Shiʿi devotion. 3  Umayyads: a Sunni dynasty (661–750), with its capital at Damascus. 1

72  p a r t i , sectio n ii it were a matter of horoscope or native soil, religious commands and prohibitions would make no sense, nor would praise and recompense, blame and punishment be appropriate, nor would sending prophets and messengers have any meaning. Therefore it is clear that the religions of mankind are embraced through simple imitation, not through rational investigation, and that imitation itself can lead to either truth or error, in equal measure. 64. Were the ancients taller and longer lived than us? Masʿudi In our previous works, and in certain parts of the present work, we mentioned what ancient authorities asserted concerning the reason for long and short life spans, and the great size of bodies at the beginning of time and their gradual decrease in the course of the ages; and that when God first made his creation, the nature which God gave as a mould for bodies was at its highest degree of quantity, power and perfection. When nature is perfectly potent, the human life span is longer and bodies are stronger since the blow of sudden death occurs when the powers of nature dissolve. Thus, when that power was at its most perfect, life spans were longer and bodies stronger and more numerous. When the created world first began, it was perfect in age but it has decreased little by little because matter has decreased, so that bodies and life spans have decreased because of this decrease in matter. Hence the end of nature will result in the utmost decrease in bodies and life spans. However, many people of inquiry and reflection in more recent times have disputed this view, arguing that the marks and effects left by these ancient nations on their buildings and other constructions prove that they were in fact small in body and with a stature similar to our own. This can be seen in what they left behind by way of houses, doors and corridors in such things as monuments, temples and habitations throughout the earth. Examples might include the mountain habitations of Thamud1 and how they carved their houses from solid rock, where rooms and doors are found to be small and delicate. The same may be said for the land of ʿAd,2 Egypt, al-Sham and, indeed, for the whole earth, east or west. 26

65. Dismissing a vizier Ibn al-Athir (d. 1232) was a Syrian historian and author of a celebrated chronicle of universal history. In point of fact, nothing is more harmful to states than to dismiss a vizier who is managing a state well and to replace him by another. The former is like a skilful physician who knows all about the humours of a body, its diseases and cures, what agrees with the body’s ­constitution and what harms it. The latter on the other hand, even if competent, is like a physician who does not know the humours of a body nor what agrees with its constitution or what may harm it. Until he comes to know the state of affairs, more harm than good will be done. Thamud: An ancient Arabian tribe, thought to have built the monuments of Madaʾin Salih, now in northern Saudi Arabia. 2 ʿAd: a legendary pre-Islamic Arabian tribe, said to have inhabited eastern Yemen, and proverbial for its antiquity. 1

72  p a r t i , sectio n ii it were a matter of horoscope or native soil, religious commands and prohibitions would make no sense, nor would praise and recompense, blame and punishment be appropriate, nor would sending prophets and messengers have any meaning. Therefore it is clear that the religions of mankind are embraced through simple imitation, not through rational investigation, and that imitation itself can lead to either truth or error, in equal measure. 64. Were the ancients taller and longer lived than us? Masʿudi In our previous works, and in certain parts of the present work, we mentioned what ancient authorities asserted concerning the reason for long and short life spans, and the great size of bodies at the beginning of time and their gradual decrease in the course of the ages; and that when God first made his creation, the nature which God gave as a mould for bodies was at its highest degree of quantity, power and perfection. When nature is perfectly potent, the human life span is longer and bodies are stronger since the blow of sudden death occurs when the powers of nature dissolve. Thus, when that power was at its most perfect, life spans were longer and bodies stronger and more numerous. When the created world first began, it was perfect in age but it has decreased little by little because matter has decreased, so that bodies and life spans have decreased because of this decrease in matter. Hence the end of nature will result in the utmost decrease in bodies and life spans. However, many people of inquiry and reflection in more recent times have disputed this view, arguing that the marks and effects left by these ancient nations on their buildings and other constructions prove that they were in fact small in body and with a stature similar to our own. This can be seen in what they left behind by way of houses, doors and corridors in such things as monuments, temples and habitations throughout the earth. Examples might include the mountain habitations of Thamud1 and how they carved their houses from solid rock, where rooms and doors are found to be small and delicate. The same may be said for the land of ʿAd,2 Egypt, al-Sham and, indeed, for the whole earth, east or west. 26

65. Dismissing a vizier Ibn al-Athir (d. 1232) was a Syrian historian and author of a celebrated chronicle of universal history. In point of fact, nothing is more harmful to states than to dismiss a vizier who is managing a state well and to replace him by another. The former is like a skilful physician who knows all about the humours of a body, its diseases and cures, what agrees with the body’s ­constitution and what harms it. The latter on the other hand, even if competent, is like a physician who does not know the humours of a body nor what agrees with its constitution or what may harm it. Until he comes to know the state of affairs, more harm than good will be done. Thamud: An ancient Arabian tribe, thought to have built the monuments of Madaʾin Salih, now in northern Saudi Arabia. 2 ʿAd: a legendary pre-Islamic Arabian tribe, said to have inhabited eastern Yemen, and proverbial for its antiquity. 1

72  p a r t i , sectio n ii it were a matter of horoscope or native soil, religious commands and prohibitions would make no sense, nor would praise and recompense, blame and punishment be appropriate, nor would sending prophets and messengers have any meaning. Therefore it is clear that the religions of mankind are embraced through simple imitation, not through rational investigation, and that imitation itself can lead to either truth or error, in equal measure. 64. Were the ancients taller and longer lived than us? Masʿudi In our previous works, and in certain parts of the present work, we mentioned what ancient authorities asserted concerning the reason for long and short life spans, and the great size of bodies at the beginning of time and their gradual decrease in the course of the ages; and that when God first made his creation, the nature which God gave as a mould for bodies was at its highest degree of quantity, power and perfection. When nature is perfectly potent, the human life span is longer and bodies are stronger since the blow of sudden death occurs when the powers of nature dissolve. Thus, when that power was at its most perfect, life spans were longer and bodies stronger and more numerous. When the created world first began, it was perfect in age but it has decreased little by little because matter has decreased, so that bodies and life spans have decreased because of this decrease in matter. Hence the end of nature will result in the utmost decrease in bodies and life spans. However, many people of inquiry and reflection in more recent times have disputed this view, arguing that the marks and effects left by these ancient nations on their buildings and other constructions prove that they were in fact small in body and with a stature similar to our own. This can be seen in what they left behind by way of houses, doors and corridors in such things as monuments, temples and habitations throughout the earth. Examples might include the mountain habitations of Thamud1 and how they carved their houses from solid rock, where rooms and doors are found to be small and delicate. The same may be said for the land of ʿAd,2 Egypt, al-Sham and, indeed, for the whole earth, east or west. 26

65. Dismissing a vizier Ibn al-Athir (d. 1232) was a Syrian historian and author of a celebrated chronicle of universal history. In point of fact, nothing is more harmful to states than to dismiss a vizier who is managing a state well and to replace him by another. The former is like a skilful physician who knows all about the humours of a body, its diseases and cures, what agrees with the body’s ­constitution and what harms it. The latter on the other hand, even if competent, is like a physician who does not know the humours of a body nor what agrees with its constitution or what may harm it. Until he comes to know the state of affairs, more harm than good will be done. Thamud: An ancient Arabian tribe, thought to have built the monuments of Madaʾin Salih, now in northern Saudi Arabia. 2 ʿAd: a legendary pre-Islamic Arabian tribe, said to have inhabited eastern Yemen, and proverbial for its antiquity. 1

re f l e ctions on history    73 66. Biographers Al-Subki (d. 1370), born in Egypt, lived in Damascus and was chief judge of the city. He was also a noted biographer. Biographers are people who stand on the edge of a precipice, for they exercise their authority over people’s honour and reputations. It may happen also that they do no more than transmit from a source, whether truthful or untruthful. Hence the biographer must be knowledgeable, fair and fully cognizant with the circumstances of the life of his subject. There must not exist between them the sort of friendship that causes the biographer to blindly take his subject’s side, nor the sort of enmity that leads him to denigrate his subject. Furthermore, there is the problem of scholars who live in the same age. One should not accept their verdict upon one another even when, if considered separately, each is trustworthy. Some are zealous in embracing minor points of the law as taught by their schools and carry this to excess, making this defect one of the worst traits of a biographer. My own view is that no judgements of praise or blame should be accepted from biographers except in accordance with the conditions laid out by my late father, a man of outstanding knowledge. He wrote, and I have copied this passage from his book: A biographer must be truthful. If he copies a passage he must do so word for word and not simply the general sense. Nor can he do so from oral transmission which he later on writes down. He must cite his source by name. These are four conditions. Where he himself is the author of the biography, whether long or short, he must know the circumstances of the subject, his level of scholarship, his faith and other character traits. This is very rarely possible. His language should be clear, he should know what words entail and he should have a good imagination. This is in order that he can, while writing his biography, capture all the circumstances of the person’s life and express this in words that neither elevate nor demean him. He should not be moved by whim, and thus be induced to wax eloquent in praising someone he loves or to fall short in case of someone he does not. Rather, he must divest himself of caprice, which is very rare, or else he must possess a sense of justice sufficient to suppress his whims and follow the path of fairness. These are four additional conditions. You may if you like add a fifth condition, since his good imagination and his knowledge may not be present when he is writing. Thus he must make sure that his imagination is always present in addition to the good imagination he ought to possess, combined with scholarship. These are nine conditions necessary for the biographer. But the most difficult of all is to ascertain the level of learning possessed by the subject, for the biographer needs to possess an equal level of knowledge and to be near to him in scholarship in order to assess his attainments.

67. Dynastic transitions Ibn al-Athir Having considered numerous histories, more particularly numerous Islamic histories that can be accurately verified, I have discovered that, with many founders of dynasties, the states they

re f l e ctions on history    73 66. Biographers Al-Subki (d. 1370), born in Egypt, lived in Damascus and was chief judge of the city. He was also a noted biographer. Biographers are people who stand on the edge of a precipice, for they exercise their authority over people’s honour and reputations. It may happen also that they do no more than transmit from a source, whether truthful or untruthful. Hence the biographer must be knowledgeable, fair and fully cognizant with the circumstances of the life of his subject. There must not exist between them the sort of friendship that causes the biographer to blindly take his subject’s side, nor the sort of enmity that leads him to denigrate his subject. Furthermore, there is the problem of scholars who live in the same age. One should not accept their verdict upon one another even when, if considered separately, each is trustworthy. Some are zealous in embracing minor points of the law as taught by their schools and carry this to excess, making this defect one of the worst traits of a biographer. My own view is that no judgements of praise or blame should be accepted from biographers except in accordance with the conditions laid out by my late father, a man of outstanding knowledge. He wrote, and I have copied this passage from his book: A biographer must be truthful. If he copies a passage he must do so word for word and not simply the general sense. Nor can he do so from oral transmission which he later on writes down. He must cite his source by name. These are four conditions. Where he himself is the author of the biography, whether long or short, he must know the circumstances of the subject, his level of scholarship, his faith and other character traits. This is very rarely possible. His language should be clear, he should know what words entail and he should have a good imagination. This is in order that he can, while writing his biography, capture all the circumstances of the person’s life and express this in words that neither elevate nor demean him. He should not be moved by whim, and thus be induced to wax eloquent in praising someone he loves or to fall short in case of someone he does not. Rather, he must divest himself of caprice, which is very rare, or else he must possess a sense of justice sufficient to suppress his whims and follow the path of fairness. These are four additional conditions. You may if you like add a fifth condition, since his good imagination and his knowledge may not be present when he is writing. Thus he must make sure that his imagination is always present in addition to the good imagination he ought to possess, combined with scholarship. These are nine conditions necessary for the biographer. But the most difficult of all is to ascertain the level of learning possessed by the subject, for the biographer needs to possess an equal level of knowledge and to be near to him in scholarship in order to assess his attainments.

67. Dynastic transitions Ibn al-Athir Having considered numerous histories, more particularly numerous Islamic histories that can be accurately verified, I have discovered that, with many founders of dynasties, the states they

74  p a r t i , sectio n ii founded are passed on not to their immediate issue but to other relatives, close or distant. Take the early Islamic case of Muʿawiya ibn Abi Sufyan,1 who was the first ruler of his royal house. Kingship passed not to his immediate issue but to the Marwanids, his cousins. Then there is the case of al-Saffah, the first of the Abbasid line: kingship passed from his children to his brother al-Mansur. Consider too the Samanid2 dynasty, the first of whom was Nasr ibn Ahmad: kingship passed from him to his brother Ismaʿil ibn Ahmad and his issue. Then in the case of Yaʿqub al-Saffar,3 who was the first of his dynasty, kingship passed to his brother ʿAmr and his issue. The first of the Buwayhid4 line was ʿImad al-Dawlah ibn Buwayh, but kingship passed to his two brothers, Rukn al-Dawlah and ʿIzz al-Dawlah, the line ending with the progeny of Rukn al-Dawlah and Muʿizz al-Dawlah. In the case of the Seljuq5 state, their first ruler was Tughril Beg but kingship passed to the progeny of his brother Dawud. With Shirkuh kingship passed to the progeny of his brother Ayyub,6 father of Saladin. After Saladin had firmly established the state and greatly enlarged it, thus becoming like its first founder, kingship passed to the progeny of his brother al-ʿAdil, while his own progeny managed only to hold Aleppo. These then are the greatest of Islamic states. Were it not for fear of prolixity I would have added more examples. The reason for this I think is that the first of a line must commit many acts of violence to entrench himself in power. Once in power, the hearts and energies of his immediate family are fully preoccupied with him. This is why God denies power to his issue, for the sake of whom he committed these acts, as a form of punishment. 27

68. The Mongol invasions Ibn al-Athir I was for many years reluctant to mention this event, being in awe of it and unwilling to set it down. I would put one foot forward and retract the other. What man can find it easy to announce the death of Islam and the Muslims? I wish I had never been born or had died before that event, forgetting and forgotten. But while hesitating, some friends urged me to record it. I then realised that ignoring it would be futile. Let me proceed. This section of my history comprises an account of a momentous event, a catastrophe the like of which the days and nights have never brought forth. It afflicted the world in general and the Muslims in particular. If someone were to say that the world since God created Adam and until the present day has not been blighted by anything similar, he would be right. For history records no event equal to it, or anywhere near it. Thus, among the great events mentioned in history is the massacre of the Israelites by Nebuchadnezzar and his destruction of Jerusalem. But what was Jerusalem when compared to the destruction by the execrable Mongols of cities any of which is many times the size of Jerusalem? And what were the Israelites when compared to those killed by the Mongols? The massacred inhabitants of a single city outnumber all the Israelites. It may well be that the world will not witness a like event until the earth itself passes away. Even the Anti-Christ will spare the lives of his followers and kill only those who oppose him. But the Mongols spared no one. They ­massacred 1 Muʿawiya (d. 680): founder of the Umayyad empire (661–750). 2 Samanids: a dynasty that ruled Iran and central Asia (819–999). 3 Saffarids: a dynasty that ruled eastern Iran and Afghanistan (861–1003). 4 Buwayhids: a dynasty that ruled Iran, Iraq and Syria (934–1055). 5 Seljuqs: a dynasty that ruled Anatolia, Syria, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan (1037–1194). 6 Ayyubids: a dynasty founded by Saladin that ruled Egypt and Syria (1171–1260).

74  p a r t i , sectio n ii founded are passed on not to their immediate issue but to other relatives, close or distant. Take the early Islamic case of Muʿawiya ibn Abi Sufyan,1 who was the first ruler of his royal house. Kingship passed not to his immediate issue but to the Marwanids, his cousins. Then there is the case of al-Saffah, the first of the Abbasid line: kingship passed from his children to his brother al-Mansur. Consider too the Samanid2 dynasty, the first of whom was Nasr ibn Ahmad: kingship passed from him to his brother Ismaʿil ibn Ahmad and his issue. Then in the case of Yaʿqub al-Saffar,3 who was the first of his dynasty, kingship passed to his brother ʿAmr and his issue. The first of the Buwayhid4 line was ʿImad al-Dawlah ibn Buwayh, but kingship passed to his two brothers, Rukn al-Dawlah and ʿIzz al-Dawlah, the line ending with the progeny of Rukn al-Dawlah and Muʿizz al-Dawlah. In the case of the Seljuq5 state, their first ruler was Tughril Beg but kingship passed to the progeny of his brother Dawud. With Shirkuh kingship passed to the progeny of his brother Ayyub,6 father of Saladin. After Saladin had firmly established the state and greatly enlarged it, thus becoming like its first founder, kingship passed to the progeny of his brother al-ʿAdil, while his own progeny managed only to hold Aleppo. These then are the greatest of Islamic states. Were it not for fear of prolixity I would have added more examples. The reason for this I think is that the first of a line must commit many acts of violence to entrench himself in power. Once in power, the hearts and energies of his immediate family are fully preoccupied with him. This is why God denies power to his issue, for the sake of whom he committed these acts, as a form of punishment. 27

68. The Mongol invasions Ibn al-Athir I was for many years reluctant to mention this event, being in awe of it and unwilling to set it down. I would put one foot forward and retract the other. What man can find it easy to announce the death of Islam and the Muslims? I wish I had never been born or had died before that event, forgetting and forgotten. But while hesitating, some friends urged me to record it. I then realised that ignoring it would be futile. Let me proceed. This section of my history comprises an account of a momentous event, a catastrophe the like of which the days and nights have never brought forth. It afflicted the world in general and the Muslims in particular. If someone were to say that the world since God created Adam and until the present day has not been blighted by anything similar, he would be right. For history records no event equal to it, or anywhere near it. Thus, among the great events mentioned in history is the massacre of the Israelites by Nebuchadnezzar and his destruction of Jerusalem. But what was Jerusalem when compared to the destruction by the execrable Mongols of cities any of which is many times the size of Jerusalem? And what were the Israelites when compared to those killed by the Mongols? The massacred inhabitants of a single city outnumber all the Israelites. It may well be that the world will not witness a like event until the earth itself passes away. Even the Anti-Christ will spare the lives of his followers and kill only those who oppose him. But the Mongols spared no one. They ­massacred 1 Muʿawiya (d. 680): founder of the Umayyad empire (661–750). 2 Samanids: a dynasty that ruled Iran and central Asia (819–999). 3 Saffarids: a dynasty that ruled eastern Iran and Afghanistan (861–1003). 4 Buwayhids: a dynasty that ruled Iran, Iraq and Syria (934–1055). 5 Seljuqs: a dynasty that ruled Anatolia, Syria, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan (1037–1194). 6 Ayyubids: a dynasty founded by Saladin that ruled Egypt and Syria (1171–1260).

re f l e ctions on history    75 women, men and children. They cut open the bellies of pregnant women and killed the foetuses. They were a people who emerged from the frontiers of China and advanced to Turkestan, then to Transoxiana,1 capturing Samarkand and Bukhara, while a group advanced to Khurasan, killing and destroying, and reached the borders of Iraq. There were hardly any survivors. This all happened in less than one year, a totally unprecedented event. Even Alexander, who historians agree conquered the earth, did not do so with such speed, for it took him ten years to complete his conquests. Neither ancient history nor modern records any event similar to this, namely that a group of people would come out from the frontiers of China and within one year reach Armenia from one direction and approach Iraq from another. I doubt not but that those who come after us, following a long lapse of time, would deny this event when they see it recorded, judging it implausible. And they would be right. However, let them consider that I and every other historian of my generation recorded this event at a moment in time when all were familiar with it. So widely was it known that both the ignorant and the learned knew it well. 28

69. The caliph ʿUthman and the First Civil War in Islamic history Ibn Khaldun (d. 1406) of Tunis is widely regarded as the most profound historian of pre-modern Islamic culture. The conquests were now completed, the new religion had consolidated its power and the Arabs were settled in camp cities on the frontiers between them and other nations as in Basra, Kufa, Syria and Egypt. Those who had been singled out for companionship of the Prophet and were most devoted to his message and his conduct were the Meccan Emigrants and the Medinese Supporters,2 from the tribe of Quraysh3 or from the Hijaz, together with others who had attained that same honour. As for the rest of the Arab tribes, such as the Bakr ibn Waʾil, the ʿAbd al-Qays, and most of the Rabiʿa, the Azd, the Kinda, the Tamim, the Qudaʿa and others, they had not shared in that companionship except in rare instances. Nevertheless, they had played an important part in the conquests and were very conscious of their achievements. The virtuous among them fully accepted the merits of the early companions and recognised their precedence. This was a period when everyone was still in a state of awe and amazement at what they had witnessed of prophecy, the descent of divine revelation and angels ascending and descending. But once this fog lifted, the past was partially forgotten, the enemy had been defeated and kingship had become repressive, the veins of the Age of Pre-Islamic Paganism began once more to throb. The conquerors found that power over them was exercised solely by the Emigrants and Supporters from the tribe of Quraysh and elsewhere, and their spirit began to disdain that rule. This change happened to coincide with the days of the caliph ʿUthman.4 So they began to openly challenge his governors in the various provinces, to censure their every move, to malinger in offering them obedience, to accuse them falsely of crimes and demand their dismissal, and to advertise their criticism of the caliph. Transoxiana: A region of central Asia covering Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and parts of neighbouring countries. The Meccan Emigrants (Muhajirun) and Medinese Supporters (Ansar) were the two major groups of Muslims in Muhammad’s days. 3 Quraysh: the Meccan tribe of Muhammad. 4 ʿUthman (d. 656): third of the four so-called ‘Rightly Guided’ caliphs, the immediate successors of Muhammad. 1 2

re f l e ctions on history    75 women, men and children. They cut open the bellies of pregnant women and killed the foetuses. They were a people who emerged from the frontiers of China and advanced to Turkestan, then to Transoxiana,1 capturing Samarkand and Bukhara, while a group advanced to Khurasan, killing and destroying, and reached the borders of Iraq. There were hardly any survivors. This all happened in less than one year, a totally unprecedented event. Even Alexander, who historians agree conquered the earth, did not do so with such speed, for it took him ten years to complete his conquests. Neither ancient history nor modern records any event similar to this, namely that a group of people would come out from the frontiers of China and within one year reach Armenia from one direction and approach Iraq from another. I doubt not but that those who come after us, following a long lapse of time, would deny this event when they see it recorded, judging it implausible. And they would be right. However, let them consider that I and every other historian of my generation recorded this event at a moment in time when all were familiar with it. So widely was it known that both the ignorant and the learned knew it well. 28

69. The caliph ʿUthman and the First Civil War in Islamic history Ibn Khaldun (d. 1406) of Tunis is widely regarded as the most profound historian of pre-modern Islamic culture. The conquests were now completed, the new religion had consolidated its power and the Arabs were settled in camp cities on the frontiers between them and other nations as in Basra, Kufa, Syria and Egypt. Those who had been singled out for companionship of the Prophet and were most devoted to his message and his conduct were the Meccan Emigrants and the Medinese Supporters,2 from the tribe of Quraysh3 or from the Hijaz, together with others who had attained that same honour. As for the rest of the Arab tribes, such as the Bakr ibn Waʾil, the ʿAbd al-Qays, and most of the Rabiʿa, the Azd, the Kinda, the Tamim, the Qudaʿa and others, they had not shared in that companionship except in rare instances. Nevertheless, they had played an important part in the conquests and were very conscious of their achievements. The virtuous among them fully accepted the merits of the early companions and recognised their precedence. This was a period when everyone was still in a state of awe and amazement at what they had witnessed of prophecy, the descent of divine revelation and angels ascending and descending. But once this fog lifted, the past was partially forgotten, the enemy had been defeated and kingship had become repressive, the veins of the Age of Pre-Islamic Paganism began once more to throb. The conquerors found that power over them was exercised solely by the Emigrants and Supporters from the tribe of Quraysh and elsewhere, and their spirit began to disdain that rule. This change happened to coincide with the days of the caliph ʿUthman.4 So they began to openly challenge his governors in the various provinces, to censure their every move, to malinger in offering them obedience, to accuse them falsely of crimes and demand their dismissal, and to advertise their criticism of the caliph. Transoxiana: A region of central Asia covering Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and parts of neighbouring countries. The Meccan Emigrants (Muhajirun) and Medinese Supporters (Ansar) were the two major groups of Muslims in Muhammad’s days. 3 Quraysh: the Meccan tribe of Muhammad. 4 ʿUthman (d. 656): third of the four so-called ‘Rightly Guided’ caliphs, the immediate successors of Muhammad. 1 2

76  p a r t i , sectio n ii 70. Arab history comes full circle Ibn Khaldun When the northern Arab tribes with their knights as well as their supporters from the southern tribes assumed sole control of the Islamic state, subdued the various religions and nations and captured their major urban centres, their way of life was transformed from the coarse existence of the desert and the simplicity of the early caliphate to powerful and repressive kingship and the luxuries of urbanism. So they abandoned their desert encampments and scattered all over the border regions far from the central Islamic territories, where they established frontier garrisons individually or in groups. Kingship passed from one stock to another and one royal house to another. Royal power grew excessive under the Umayyad state and later under the Abbasid state in Iraq, then too under the other Umayyad state in Andalusia.1 These states attained such luxury and splendour as had not been attained by any state, Arab or non-Arab, before them. They indulged in worldly pleasures and their generations grew up in the lap of luxury to the point where they became accustomed to urban refinements, forgot their desert origins, and lost the skills and character traits that had won them their kingship in the first place and led them to overcome other nations, such as their austere religion, their nomadic morality and the harsh and intense existence of the desert encampments. Garrison troops became indistinguishable from ordinary citizens except for their training, and military troops indistinguishable from urban dwellers except for their badges and uniforms. Meanwhile the supreme ruler became too proud to take part in military exploits or to consider himself the equal of others in his genealogy. All who aspired to power from among the elite of Quraysh or other tribal grandees were severely repressed and their ambitions were thwarted. The new ruling elites were court circles made up of non-Arabs and other servants of the state. These became so numerous that they outnumbered the Arab elements who had originally established the state, raised the banner of religion and were the mainstay of the caliphate. The Arab elements were thus humiliated. They were made to forget their ancient glory and the prestige of power. They were robbed of their sense of communal solidarity so that others, like the non-Arab clients and state functionaries, assumed authority and decision-making. And so it was that these non-Arab groups acquired pride in their new power and aspired to supreme rule. The caliphate was treated with contempt and its powers were usurped. Meanwhile the Arabs themselves, who had once been the enthusiastic upholders of the state, sank into subjection, mixed with the riffraff among nations, could not recover their long-gone Bedouin ways and could not recapture the genealogies that had now lapsed and were forgotten. So they passed out of existence and withered away, just like other nations before and after them. Such is the pattern established by God, unchanging and unchangeable. The groups that had established the basic foundations of power, from the very origins of Islam and religion on to the caliphate, and then to kingship, were numerous Arab tribes with powerful clan formations. It was they who upheld the new faith and religion, consolidated the caliphate, conquered the various regions and defeated the other nations. All these tribes were then dispersed by the rise of the Arab Islamic state. They scattered to faraway frontiers, were swallowed up by distant regions, and took part in celebrated battles. Thus, there remained of them no clan that one could identify, no encampment moving from place to place, no 29

1

Umayyads of Andalusia (Muslim Spain): a dynasty that lasted from 756 to 1031.

re f l e ctions on history    77 tribe that could be recognised, no blood group to avenge a crime, and no grouping to which a member could claim to belong. Their kinships were scattered among diverse regions, and most of them lost touch with their tribal origins. They then mixed with other peoples and were regarded with contempt, becoming servants of princes. Islam came to be supported by other nations, and kingship and power passed from Arab hands. The merchandise of arts and crafts was carried to markets other than their own. Thus the non-Arab nations of the east, namely the Daylam,1 the Seljuqs2, the Kurds, the Ghuzz3 and the Turks, assumed supreme power and continue to hold it in succession until the present day. In north Africa also, the non-Arabs of the Zinata and other Berber stock assumed supreme power, and the states they established are with us to this day, passing from one group among them to another. Most Arab tribes who had once held power vanished without trace. Those who remained in the wilderness led a life of coarse and primitive nomadism and thus were spared the fatal attraction of luxury. These Arab nomads inhabited the southern deserts of north Africa, Egypt, Syria, Hijaz, Iraq and Kirman4 just as their ancestors, the tribes of Rabiʿa, Mudar and Kahlan, had done in the pre-Islamic pagan period. As states grew old, some of these nomadic tribes grew more powerful in both east and west, and the various states began to employ them in a feudal capacity to oversee frontier regions. Then again, the pure Arabic of Mudar,5 the language in which divine revelation descended, grew weak among them and changed its syntax, so they inclined to an Arabic heavily influenced by foreign tongues. We ought therefore to regard them as a new generation, a new stage of history, and to call them ‘the foreign-like Arabs’. 30

71. Causes of the decline of states Turtushi (d. 1126) was a jurist, mystic and man of letters. Originally from Tortosa in Spain, he travelled to Iraq and Syria and settled in Egypt. The celebrated jurist al-Awzaʿi (d. 774) once said: ‘A ruler perishes through conceit and seclusion.’ Seclusion is in fact the quickest means to the destruction of power and of states in general. This is because when a ruler secludes himself, it is as if he has died since seclusion is virtual death. For then his retinue begins to violate the lives, sanctity and property of his subjects since the violator is confident that the one violated has no access to the ruler. Most instances of royal corruption that we have ourselves witnessed in our time or else heard about from people who came before us are due to rulers having secluded themselves from direct supervision of the affairs of state. The subjects have a single ruler so long as they have access to him. Once he secludes himself, rulers multiply. 72. Military feudalism in Andalusia Turtushi I heard from several senior Andalusian commanders and others that the Muslims in al-Andalus remained victorious over their enemies while their enemies grew ever weaker so long as the 1 Daylam: an Iranian people who inhabited the southern shores of the Caspian Sea. 2 Seljuqs: a dynasty that ruled Anatolia, Syria, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan (1037–1194). 3 Ghuzz: a Turkic tribal federation of central Asia. 4  Kirman: a province of south-eastern Iran. 5 Mudar: a great north Arabian tribe.

re f l e ctions on history    77 tribe that could be recognised, no blood group to avenge a crime, and no grouping to which a member could claim to belong. Their kinships were scattered among diverse regions, and most of them lost touch with their tribal origins. They then mixed with other peoples and were regarded with contempt, becoming servants of princes. Islam came to be supported by other nations, and kingship and power passed from Arab hands. The merchandise of arts and crafts was carried to markets other than their own. Thus the non-Arab nations of the east, namely the Daylam,1 the Seljuqs2, the Kurds, the Ghuzz3 and the Turks, assumed supreme power and continue to hold it in succession until the present day. In north Africa also, the non-Arabs of the Zinata and other Berber stock assumed supreme power, and the states they established are with us to this day, passing from one group among them to another. Most Arab tribes who had once held power vanished without trace. Those who remained in the wilderness led a life of coarse and primitive nomadism and thus were spared the fatal attraction of luxury. These Arab nomads inhabited the southern deserts of north Africa, Egypt, Syria, Hijaz, Iraq and Kirman4 just as their ancestors, the tribes of Rabiʿa, Mudar and Kahlan, had done in the pre-Islamic pagan period. As states grew old, some of these nomadic tribes grew more powerful in both east and west, and the various states began to employ them in a feudal capacity to oversee frontier regions. Then again, the pure Arabic of Mudar,5 the language in which divine revelation descended, grew weak among them and changed its syntax, so they inclined to an Arabic heavily influenced by foreign tongues. We ought therefore to regard them as a new generation, a new stage of history, and to call them ‘the foreign-like Arabs’. 30

71. Causes of the decline of states Turtushi (d. 1126) was a jurist, mystic and man of letters. Originally from Tortosa in Spain, he travelled to Iraq and Syria and settled in Egypt. The celebrated jurist al-Awzaʿi (d. 774) once said: ‘A ruler perishes through conceit and seclusion.’ Seclusion is in fact the quickest means to the destruction of power and of states in general. This is because when a ruler secludes himself, it is as if he has died since seclusion is virtual death. For then his retinue begins to violate the lives, sanctity and property of his subjects since the violator is confident that the one violated has no access to the ruler. Most instances of royal corruption that we have ourselves witnessed in our time or else heard about from people who came before us are due to rulers having secluded themselves from direct supervision of the affairs of state. The subjects have a single ruler so long as they have access to him. Once he secludes himself, rulers multiply. 72. Military feudalism in Andalusia Turtushi I heard from several senior Andalusian commanders and others that the Muslims in al-Andalus remained victorious over their enemies while their enemies grew ever weaker so long as the 1 Daylam: an Iranian people who inhabited the southern shores of the Caspian Sea. 2 Seljuqs: a dynasty that ruled Anatolia, Syria, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan (1037–1194). 3 Ghuzz: a Turkic tribal federation of central Asia. 4  Kirman: a province of south-eastern Iran. 5 Mudar: a great north Arabian tribe.

re f l e ctions on history    77 tribe that could be recognised, no blood group to avenge a crime, and no grouping to which a member could claim to belong. Their kinships were scattered among diverse regions, and most of them lost touch with their tribal origins. They then mixed with other peoples and were regarded with contempt, becoming servants of princes. Islam came to be supported by other nations, and kingship and power passed from Arab hands. The merchandise of arts and crafts was carried to markets other than their own. Thus the non-Arab nations of the east, namely the Daylam,1 the Seljuqs2, the Kurds, the Ghuzz3 and the Turks, assumed supreme power and continue to hold it in succession until the present day. In north Africa also, the non-Arabs of the Zinata and other Berber stock assumed supreme power, and the states they established are with us to this day, passing from one group among them to another. Most Arab tribes who had once held power vanished without trace. Those who remained in the wilderness led a life of coarse and primitive nomadism and thus were spared the fatal attraction of luxury. These Arab nomads inhabited the southern deserts of north Africa, Egypt, Syria, Hijaz, Iraq and Kirman4 just as their ancestors, the tribes of Rabiʿa, Mudar and Kahlan, had done in the pre-Islamic pagan period. As states grew old, some of these nomadic tribes grew more powerful in both east and west, and the various states began to employ them in a feudal capacity to oversee frontier regions. Then again, the pure Arabic of Mudar,5 the language in which divine revelation descended, grew weak among them and changed its syntax, so they inclined to an Arabic heavily influenced by foreign tongues. We ought therefore to regard them as a new generation, a new stage of history, and to call them ‘the foreign-like Arabs’. 30

71. Causes of the decline of states Turtushi (d. 1126) was a jurist, mystic and man of letters. Originally from Tortosa in Spain, he travelled to Iraq and Syria and settled in Egypt. The celebrated jurist al-Awzaʿi (d. 774) once said: ‘A ruler perishes through conceit and seclusion.’ Seclusion is in fact the quickest means to the destruction of power and of states in general. This is because when a ruler secludes himself, it is as if he has died since seclusion is virtual death. For then his retinue begins to violate the lives, sanctity and property of his subjects since the violator is confident that the one violated has no access to the ruler. Most instances of royal corruption that we have ourselves witnessed in our time or else heard about from people who came before us are due to rulers having secluded themselves from direct supervision of the affairs of state. The subjects have a single ruler so long as they have access to him. Once he secludes himself, rulers multiply. 72. Military feudalism in Andalusia Turtushi I heard from several senior Andalusian commanders and others that the Muslims in al-Andalus remained victorious over their enemies while their enemies grew ever weaker so long as the 1 Daylam: an Iranian people who inhabited the southern shores of the Caspian Sea. 2 Seljuqs: a dynasty that ruled Anatolia, Syria, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan (1037–1194). 3 Ghuzz: a Turkic tribal federation of central Asia. 4  Kirman: a province of south-eastern Iran. 5 Mudar: a great north Arabian tribe.

78  p a r t i , sectio n ii land was given out in feudal grants to the military class. The military would work the land, treat the peasants kindly and cultivate their estates in the way a trader cultivates his trade. The land flourished, money was plentiful, the soldiers were numerous and horses and weapons were abundant. This was the case until the end of the emirate of Ibn Abi ʿAmir,1 who recalled the military fiefs and auctioned them off. Money and greed now predominated and there descended on the land tax collectors who battened upon the peasants, robbed them of their wealth and left them much weakened. So the peasants fled, the land was no longer well tended and the amounts of tax due to the ruler fell. The soldiers grew weak and the enemy grew powerful against the Muslims so that much Muslim land was lost. The Muslims continued to decline in power as the enemy continued to wax stronger until the Almoravids2 entered Andalusia and restored the fiefs to their earlier condition. I do not know what will happen hereafter. 31

73. Religions and policies of ancient nations Turtushi Having examined the histories of ancient nations and kings, and what they instituted by way of policies for the governance of states or of laws for the preservation of religions, I found that these were of two kinds: general principles and practical policies. As regards the principles governing what they took to be licit and illicit, commercial dealings, marriage and divorce, rents and such matters, together with their definitions and the punishments for transgression, these were mere conventions determined by their intellects. There was no authority for any of these principles, no divine revelation and no guidance from any warner or prophet. They simply issued from guardians of fire temples or idol-worshipping priests, principles the like of which any human being can by himself forge or lay down. As for the practical policies which they instituted in order to make people abide by these principles, protect them, honour those who observed them and degrade and demean those who contravened them, they followed the path of justice and sound practice, uniting people’s hearts around those ancient rulers, and adhering to fairness, in accordance with those general principles. The same holds true for conduct of war, safety of highways, preservation of wealth and protection of honour and sanctity. In all these matters, these rulers followed a laudable course of conduct none of which contravened reason. If only their general principles had been sound! In preserving these corrupt principles so well they were like one who decorates a toilet or builds a palace over a dead person. 74. Are the conquests of Alexander the Great credible as reported? Yaqut (d. 1229), a Syrian, was the author of the most famous geographical dictionary of pre-modern Islamic culture. Historians claim that Alexander, son of Philip the Greek, killed and conquered many kings and invaded territories, reaching even to furthest China where he built the Great Wall and performed many other feats; and that he died aged thirty-two years and seven months, during which time he never rested. 1 Ibn Abi ʿAmir (d. 1002): vizier and strong man of Muslim Spain. 2 Almoravids: a north African Berber dynasty (1040–1147) that conquered Spain in 1086.

78  p a r t i , sectio n ii land was given out in feudal grants to the military class. The military would work the land, treat the peasants kindly and cultivate their estates in the way a trader cultivates his trade. The land flourished, money was plentiful, the soldiers were numerous and horses and weapons were abundant. This was the case until the end of the emirate of Ibn Abi ʿAmir,1 who recalled the military fiefs and auctioned them off. Money and greed now predominated and there descended on the land tax collectors who battened upon the peasants, robbed them of their wealth and left them much weakened. So the peasants fled, the land was no longer well tended and the amounts of tax due to the ruler fell. The soldiers grew weak and the enemy grew powerful against the Muslims so that much Muslim land was lost. The Muslims continued to decline in power as the enemy continued to wax stronger until the Almoravids2 entered Andalusia and restored the fiefs to their earlier condition. I do not know what will happen hereafter. 31

73. Religions and policies of ancient nations Turtushi Having examined the histories of ancient nations and kings, and what they instituted by way of policies for the governance of states or of laws for the preservation of religions, I found that these were of two kinds: general principles and practical policies. As regards the principles governing what they took to be licit and illicit, commercial dealings, marriage and divorce, rents and such matters, together with their definitions and the punishments for transgression, these were mere conventions determined by their intellects. There was no authority for any of these principles, no divine revelation and no guidance from any warner or prophet. They simply issued from guardians of fire temples or idol-worshipping priests, principles the like of which any human being can by himself forge or lay down. As for the practical policies which they instituted in order to make people abide by these principles, protect them, honour those who observed them and degrade and demean those who contravened them, they followed the path of justice and sound practice, uniting people’s hearts around those ancient rulers, and adhering to fairness, in accordance with those general principles. The same holds true for conduct of war, safety of highways, preservation of wealth and protection of honour and sanctity. In all these matters, these rulers followed a laudable course of conduct none of which contravened reason. If only their general principles had been sound! In preserving these corrupt principles so well they were like one who decorates a toilet or builds a palace over a dead person. 74. Are the conquests of Alexander the Great credible as reported? Yaqut (d. 1229), a Syrian, was the author of the most famous geographical dictionary of pre-modern Islamic culture. Historians claim that Alexander, son of Philip the Greek, killed and conquered many kings and invaded territories, reaching even to furthest China where he built the Great Wall and performed many other feats; and that he died aged thirty-two years and seven months, during which time he never rested. 1 Ibn Abi ʿAmir (d. 1002): vizier and strong man of Muslim Spain. 2 Almoravids: a north African Berber dynasty (1040–1147) that conquered Spain in 1086.

78  p a r t i , sectio n ii land was given out in feudal grants to the military class. The military would work the land, treat the peasants kindly and cultivate their estates in the way a trader cultivates his trade. The land flourished, money was plentiful, the soldiers were numerous and horses and weapons were abundant. This was the case until the end of the emirate of Ibn Abi ʿAmir,1 who recalled the military fiefs and auctioned them off. Money and greed now predominated and there descended on the land tax collectors who battened upon the peasants, robbed them of their wealth and left them much weakened. So the peasants fled, the land was no longer well tended and the amounts of tax due to the ruler fell. The soldiers grew weak and the enemy grew powerful against the Muslims so that much Muslim land was lost. The Muslims continued to decline in power as the enemy continued to wax stronger until the Almoravids2 entered Andalusia and restored the fiefs to their earlier condition. I do not know what will happen hereafter. 31

73. Religions and policies of ancient nations Turtushi Having examined the histories of ancient nations and kings, and what they instituted by way of policies for the governance of states or of laws for the preservation of religions, I found that these were of two kinds: general principles and practical policies. As regards the principles governing what they took to be licit and illicit, commercial dealings, marriage and divorce, rents and such matters, together with their definitions and the punishments for transgression, these were mere conventions determined by their intellects. There was no authority for any of these principles, no divine revelation and no guidance from any warner or prophet. They simply issued from guardians of fire temples or idol-worshipping priests, principles the like of which any human being can by himself forge or lay down. As for the practical policies which they instituted in order to make people abide by these principles, protect them, honour those who observed them and degrade and demean those who contravened them, they followed the path of justice and sound practice, uniting people’s hearts around those ancient rulers, and adhering to fairness, in accordance with those general principles. The same holds true for conduct of war, safety of highways, preservation of wealth and protection of honour and sanctity. In all these matters, these rulers followed a laudable course of conduct none of which contravened reason. If only their general principles had been sound! In preserving these corrupt principles so well they were like one who decorates a toilet or builds a palace over a dead person. 74. Are the conquests of Alexander the Great credible as reported? Yaqut (d. 1229), a Syrian, was the author of the most famous geographical dictionary of pre-modern Islamic culture. Historians claim that Alexander, son of Philip the Greek, killed and conquered many kings and invaded territories, reaching even to furthest China where he built the Great Wall and performed many other feats; and that he died aged thirty-two years and seven months, during which time he never rested. 1 Ibn Abi ʿAmir (d. 1002): vizier and strong man of Muslim Spain. 2 Almoravids: a north African Berber dynasty (1040–1147) that conquered Spain in 1086.

re f l e ctions on history    79 I argue as follows: if true, this would be a wonder and a custom-breaking event. My opinion, and God knows best, is that the thirty-two years refer to the length of his reign or the period of his glory and that scholars did not count any other period of his life span. For surely to journey through the earth at the pace of armies with all their impedimenta, and given the necessity at each station to forage for food and fodder for animals as well the time needed to besiege hostile forts – all this requires time in addition to the time needed for marching. It is impossible that he could have acquired the energy to fight great kings if he was less than twenty years old. Then, for his kingdom to be well established, for collecting an army, for him to attain awe and majesty in the hearts of his people, to acquire leadership qualities, and to gain experience and a mind receptive to the wisdom that is ascribed to him – all this too requires another lengthy period of time. In which period of time, then, did he march through all these lands that he conquered, building all these cities in every region and appointing governors to govern them? And yet, in our very own day and age, in the years 617 and 618 [1220–1 ad], there took place certain events, namely the conquests of the Mongols who issued from China, which, had they continued, would have resulted in their conquering the whole earth in a few years. For they had set out from the frontiers of China and proceeded to conquer approximately half the kingdoms of Islam, all in less than two years. They killed the inhabitants of every city they conquered until God abandoned them and they fell back to where they had started. So this does in fact support the story of Alexander. However, when Alexander conquered a land, he built it up and appointed governors to rule it and this requires a period of time quite different from the time taken to ruin a land.

80  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Histo ry: dir e c t w it ne s s e s 75. The death of Saladin, 1193 (excerpts) Abu Shama Friday evening found him very lethargic. In the middle of the night a yellow fever overwhelmed him, affecting him internally rather than externally. Saturday morning found him sluggish, showing signs of fever but without him betraying this to the people. When al-Qadi al-Fadil1 and I2 entered into his presence, he complained of sleepless nights but happily conversed with us till noon when we took our leave. But our hearts were worried. He had asked us to attend supper, presided over by his son al-Afdal. When I arrived, the meal had been spread out with the son sitting in the father’s seat. I turned around and left, finding myself unable to sit, and feeling unsociable. That day a number of people wept, regarding it as inauspicious that the son was sitting in his father’s seat. Thereafter his sickness worsened. Al-Qadi al-Fadil and I would visit him morning and evening. The fever was now in his head. Among the signs of the end was the absence of his regular physician, who had become accustomed to his master’s humours on both his travels and his long stays. The doctors decided to bleed him but his illness grew worse and the moisture in his body decreased while dryness greatly increased until he became utterly weak. On the sixth day of his illness we propped him up and rested his back against a pillow. Lukewarm water was brought to him to drink after he had taken a purgative. He drank it and complained of its heat. Another cup was offered which he found too cold. He was neither angry nor abusive but simply said: ‘Glory be to God, cannot someone moderate the temperature of this water?’ As we left al-Qadi turned to me and said: ‘Observe his manners, the like of which the Muslims will soon see no more. I swear to God if this had been done to the least of men, he would have smashed the cup on the head of him who brought it.’ His illness grew and he became delirious. On the ninth day he fell into tremors and refused to drink. Rumours began to spread in the city and fear gripped the people, who started to remove their merchandise from the markets. The sorrow of the population was indescribable. As we left his presence we would find a crowd outside gazing at us and trying to fathom the situation from our faces. On the twelfth day of his illness, he sank further and was in the final throes of death. His womenfolk prevented us from seeing him. His son offered to put me and al-Qadi up for the night, but al-Qadi declined, saying that the people were expecting us to leave that very night. If we did not leave the citadel, he argued, they would assume he was dead and widespread looting might occur. That night the sultan slept while Shaykh Abu Jaʿfar sat near him, reciting the Qurʾan and reminding him to repeat the confession of faith. Abu Jaʿfar later stated that as he recited the verse {He is God, there is no God but He, Knower of the Unseen and the Seen} [Q.59: 22] he heard him say: ‘How true!’ He was by then unconscious, waking up only occasionally. Hence this was a sign of divine grace upon him. The day of his death was one which the Muslims had never experienced since the deaths of the Rightly Guided caliphs. The citadel and city were in such grief that only God knows its extent. I used to hear people say that they would sacrifice themselves for the sake of 32

1 Al-Qadi al-Fadil (d. 1200): head of Saladin’s chancery, and a famous judge and man of letters. 2 The narrator is Ibn Shaddad (d. 1234), jurist, historian and biographer of Saladin.

h is tory : dire ct witne sse s   81 their loved ones, but I had always taken that expression to be a sort of metaphorical exaggeration – except for that day. For I knew, from myself and many others, that if sacrificing ourselves in his stead had been possible, we would have willingly laid down our lives for him. As his coffin was carried out, a vast cry was heard from people, as though the whole world had cried out with a single scream. Many people wept so pitiably that they lost consciousness. Their weeping was such that they forgot to loot or make mischief. Every heart was broken with sorrow, every eye was wet with tears. 76. Ibn Khaldun and Tamerlane: the great world historian meets the great world conqueror, 1401 (excerpts) Ibn Khaldun The qadi Burhan al-Din told me that Timur [Tamerlane] had asked about me and whether I had returned to Egypt with the army or had stayed behind in Damascus. That night we made preparations to go out and meet Timur. There was turmoil in the Grand Mosque when some citizens objected to the fact that the city’s population had accepted the safe conduct proffered to the besieged city by Timur. I heard about that turmoil in the middle of the night and, fearing its repercussions, made my way to the main city gate and asked that they either open it for me or else lower me down in a basket. They refused at first but then lowered me in a basket from the city walls. Outside the main gate I found Timur’s entourage waiting, including the deputy he had appointed as ruler of Damascus, Malik Shah, a member of the Chaghatai, Timur’s own clan. We exchanged greetings and Malik Shah provided me with a mount and sent with me an escort to lead me to the sultan. Arriving at the sultan’s camp the order was given for me to sit and wait in a tent next to that of the sultan’s. I was further identified to him as the Maghribi Maliki1 chief judge. I was then summoned to his presence. I found him reclining on his elbow with plates of food passing before him which he gestured should be distributed to the Mongol bands sitting in circles outside his tent. When I entered, I began with the greeting of peace then bowed in submission. He raised his head and stretched forth his hand which I kissed. He gestured for me to sit down and I sat where I stood. He then summoned a Khwarizmian2 jurist in his entourage to act as interpreter. Then he began to question me. ‘Where in the Maghrib do you come from and why did you come to the east?’ ‘I came from my country by sea to perform the pilgrimage, arriving in the port of Alexandria on the day of ʿId al-Fitr [1382]. Festive banners were displayed on the walls celebrating the first ten days following the enthroning of the Mamluk sultan al-Zahir Barquq [reigned 1382–99].’ ‘How did the Sultan treat you?’ ‘Very well. He gave me a warm welcome, showed me much generosity and provisioned me for the pilgrimage. When I returned from Mecca, he gave me a regular salary and I lived under the shadow of his grace and bounty. God have mercy upon him.’ ‘How did he appoint you as the Maliki chief judge?’ ‘The previous Maliki judge had died. The sultan thought me worthy of that elevated position and knew my commitment to justice and truth and my aversion to honours and power, 33

1 Maliki: one of the four law schools of Sunni Islam. 2 Khwarizm: a historic region of central Asia just south of the Aral Sea.

h is tory : dire ct witne sse s   81 their loved ones, but I had always taken that expression to be a sort of metaphorical exaggeration – except for that day. For I knew, from myself and many others, that if sacrificing ourselves in his stead had been possible, we would have willingly laid down our lives for him. As his coffin was carried out, a vast cry was heard from people, as though the whole world had cried out with a single scream. Many people wept so pitiably that they lost consciousness. Their weeping was such that they forgot to loot or make mischief. Every heart was broken with sorrow, every eye was wet with tears. 76. Ibn Khaldun and Tamerlane: the great world historian meets the great world conqueror, 1401 (excerpts) Ibn Khaldun The qadi Burhan al-Din told me that Timur [Tamerlane] had asked about me and whether I had returned to Egypt with the army or had stayed behind in Damascus. That night we made preparations to go out and meet Timur. There was turmoil in the Grand Mosque when some citizens objected to the fact that the city’s population had accepted the safe conduct proffered to the besieged city by Timur. I heard about that turmoil in the middle of the night and, fearing its repercussions, made my way to the main city gate and asked that they either open it for me or else lower me down in a basket. They refused at first but then lowered me in a basket from the city walls. Outside the main gate I found Timur’s entourage waiting, including the deputy he had appointed as ruler of Damascus, Malik Shah, a member of the Chaghatai, Timur’s own clan. We exchanged greetings and Malik Shah provided me with a mount and sent with me an escort to lead me to the sultan. Arriving at the sultan’s camp the order was given for me to sit and wait in a tent next to that of the sultan’s. I was further identified to him as the Maghribi Maliki1 chief judge. I was then summoned to his presence. I found him reclining on his elbow with plates of food passing before him which he gestured should be distributed to the Mongol bands sitting in circles outside his tent. When I entered, I began with the greeting of peace then bowed in submission. He raised his head and stretched forth his hand which I kissed. He gestured for me to sit down and I sat where I stood. He then summoned a Khwarizmian2 jurist in his entourage to act as interpreter. Then he began to question me. ‘Where in the Maghrib do you come from and why did you come to the east?’ ‘I came from my country by sea to perform the pilgrimage, arriving in the port of Alexandria on the day of ʿId al-Fitr [1382]. Festive banners were displayed on the walls celebrating the first ten days following the enthroning of the Mamluk sultan al-Zahir Barquq [reigned 1382–99].’ ‘How did the Sultan treat you?’ ‘Very well. He gave me a warm welcome, showed me much generosity and provisioned me for the pilgrimage. When I returned from Mecca, he gave me a regular salary and I lived under the shadow of his grace and bounty. God have mercy upon him.’ ‘How did he appoint you as the Maliki chief judge?’ ‘The previous Maliki judge had died. The sultan thought me worthy of that elevated position and knew my commitment to justice and truth and my aversion to honours and power, 33

1 Maliki: one of the four law schools of Sunni Islam. 2 Khwarizm: a historic region of central Asia just south of the Aral Sea.

82  p a r t i , sectio n ii so he appointed me to succeed him. The sultan died one month later. The officials of the new regime were not happy with that appointment so replaced me with another judge.’ ‘Where is your son?’ ‘He is in the inner Maghrib, a state secretary to the great king there.’ ‘What do you mean by “inner” when describing the Maghrib?’ ‘The inner Maghrib is the furthest. The whole of the Maghrib lies on the southern shore of the Shami [Mediterranean] Sea. The nearest to us here is Barqa [Cyrenaica] and Ifriqiya. The middle Maghrib is the territory of Tilmisan [Tlemcen] and Zanata. The furthest, or inner, Maghrib is Fez and Marrakesh. ‘And where is Tanja [Tangier] in all of this?’ ‘It lies on a bay between the encircling ocean and the strait known as the Zuqaq [Strait of Gibraltar], a bay of the Shami Sea.’ ‘What about Sabta [Ceuta]?’ ‘It is not very distant from Tanja, on the shore of the Zuqaq. From it one boards ship to Andalusia because this is the nearest point to it; not more than twenty miles at that point.’ ‘And Fez?’ ‘Fez is not on the sea but built on hills. It is the capital of the Marinid dynasty, the kings of the Maghrib.’ ‘And Sijilmasa?’ ‘It is on the border between the sown and the desert, and is in the south.’ ‘None of this is satisfactory. I want you to write a full account of the Maghrib, furthest and nearest, its mountains, rivers, towns and cities, as if I am seeing it all before my eyes.’ ‘This will happen through your benevolence.’ After I left him, I wrote down a short treatise on the subject. He then gestured to his servants to get from his residence a kind of drink they call rashta, which they prepare with consummate skill. Bowls of it were brought in and he signalled for it to be placed before me. I stood up, took a bowl, drank it and liked it very much. The sultan was delighted at this. Then I sat down and we fell silent. I rehearsed in my mind a topic of conversation with him, hoping to gain his favour by lauding his achievements and kingship. In the Maghrib I had heard many omens being discussed when he appeared on the scene. Still fearful, I thought I would discuss with him some of these omens which he might find comforting. So I said: ‘May God support you! I have been longing to meet you for the past thirty or forty years.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Two reasons. One, you are the lord of the world. Not since Adam has mankind seen a king like you. Nor am I one who speaks lightly about such matters, for I am a scholar. I shall explain myself as follows. Kingship can subsist only through the bond of solidarity: the stronger the bonds, the greater the kingdom. Most scholars agree that the Arabs and the Turks are the two most numerous nations on earth. You know how powerful Arab rule was when the Arabs rallied around the religion of their Prophet. As for the Turks, their rivalry with the Persians and the fact that Afrasiyab,1 their king, detached the province of Khurasan from Persia is proof of the power of their kingship. No king on earth is their equal in solidarity, neither Chosroes2 nor Caesar nor Alexander nor Nebuchadnezzar. The second reason is what I heard in the Maghrib from those who study omens and from holy men.’ 34

1 Afrasiyab: mythical Turkic emperor. 2 Chosroes (d. 579): a celebrated king of the Persian Sasanid dynasty (224–651).

h is tory : dire ct witne sse s   83 ‘You mentioned Nebuchadnezzar in the same breath as Chosroes, Caesar and Alexander but he was not of their rank. These were mighty kings, but Nebuchadnezzar was a mere Persian military commander, just as I am a mere deputy of the throne holder.’ At this point he gestured towards a line of people standing behind him. He was referring to his stepson, whose mother Timur had married after the death of his father Satalmish. He then returned to his questioning: ‘From which nation was Nebuchadnezzar?’ ‘Scholars differ regarding this matter. Some say he is from the Nabat,1 who were all that remained from the Babylonian kings, others say he is descended from the first Persians.’ ‘That is to say from the descendants of Manuchehr?’2 ‘Yes.’ ‘I am descended from Manuchehr on my mother’s side.’ I made a point of telling the interpreter at length how valuable that information was, and added that this was another reason why I had longed to meet him. ‘So which view do you hold to be more accurate?’ I argued that Nebuchadnezzar was a descendant of what remained of the Babylonian kings while he preferred the other view. Then I added: ‘Let us turn to the opinion of Tabari, for he is the foremost historian and Hadith scholar of Islam, and is second to none.’ ‘Why rely on Tabari? Let us bring the history books of Arabs and non-Arabs, and then debate.’ ‘But I will debate relying on Tabari.’ We fell silent. At this point news reached him that the city gate had been breached, so he was carried from our presence because of an injury to his knee, and was placed on his horse. He held the reins tightly and sat upright. The fanfare and military bands around him were so loud that the air shook. I later wrote a letter to the ruler of the Maghrib, informing him of what had happened during the time I spent in the company of Timur. [The letter ends as follows:] 35

This Timur is among the most prominent of kings and tyrants. Some people say he is a scholar, others say he is a Shiʿite by conviction because of the favour he shows to Shiʿite figures, still others say that he practises magic. None of these views has any substance. He is simply a man of immense perspicacity and intelligence, devoted to scholarship and very argumentative as to both what he knows and what he does not know. He is between sixty and seventy years old. His right knee is injured because of an arrow that hit him while on a raid during his youth, as he himself told me, so he drags it behind him when he needs to walk a short distance, but over longer distances people carry him in a seat specially made for him.

1

Nabat: a generic term denoting native inhabitants of the Middle East. 2 Manuchehr: mythical Persian king.

84  p a r t i , sectio n ii

So ciety 77. Arts and crafts in cities (excerpts) Ikhwan al-Safaʾ (‘The Pure Brethren’) (circa 10th–11th century) was a secret group of NeoPlatonist philosophers and scientists who wrote a series of epistles on diverse scholarly subjects. Know, my brother, that for every craft there must inevitably exist a certain basic element upon which the craftsman works and on which he practises his craftsmanship. Where human crafts are concerned these elements are of two kinds: spiritual and material. The spiritual is the basic element in theoretical crafts whereas the material is the basic element in practical crafts. The material element is in turn of two kinds: simple and complex. The simple elements are fire, air, water and earth while the complex elements are of three kinds: mineral, vegetable and animal. There are crafts where the basic element is water alone, such as the crafts of sailors, water sellers, water carriers, beverage sellers, swimmers and the like. Other crafts have earth alone as their basic element, such as the crafts of diggers of wells, canals, graves and mines, together with those who transport earth or work in stone. Still other crafts have fire alone as their basic element, such as the crafts of naphtha projectile throwers and fire starters and kindlers. Yet other crafts have air alone as their basic element, such as the crafts of pipers, trumpeters and all other such people. In some crafts the basic elements are earth and water, such as the crafts of potters, jar makers, bowl makers and brick moulders. In others the basic element is a mineral, such as the craft of blacksmiths, coppersmiths and workers in lead, glass and precious metals. In still others the basic element is tree trunks, branches and leaves, such as the crafts of carpenters, palm leaf plaiters, mat weavers, cage makers and the like. Yet others have animals as their basic element, such as the crafts of hunters and cattle and sheep herders. Still others have the human body as their basic element, such as physicians, hairdressers and the like, while others have the human soul as their basic element, such as the profession of teachers as a whole. Then again, some crafts are primary and necessary while others are secondary and subordinate to them or else complementary. The primary crafts are three: ploughing, weaving and building. All other crafts are subsidiary to these three or complement them. In all crafts, expertise consists in creating form from primary matter, and in completing and perfecting these forms, to secure the benefits thereof in this our earthly existence only. Know, my brother, that the whole of mankind are either craftsmen or merchants, both rich and poor. The craftsmen use their bodies and tools, their object being to demand compensation for their craftsmanship in order to better their earthly lives. Merchants are those who buy and sell, their object being to take in more, through surplus of profit, than what they part with. The rich are those who own these manufactured or natural objects, their motive in collecting them being to escape poverty. The poor are those who need these objects, their motive being to become rich. The reason why most of mankind is poor and why the rich fear poverty is to urge them all to actively practise the crafts, and to remain steadfast in doing so, and also to practise commerce. Know, my brother, that some crafts are superior to others, and this for several reasons. Some of these reasons have to do with the primary matter which is the basic element of a craft, and some with the item produced or fabricated. Other reasons have to do with the necessity for them, still others with their benefit to the public. Those crafts whose superiority

socie ty    85 derives from their primary matter are the crafts of jewellers, perfumers and the like. Those whose superiority derives from production or fabrication are crafts such as the fashioning of astrolabes and similar instruments. Here, a piece of brass worth five dirhams,1 when fashioned into an astrolabe, might be worth one hundred dirhams, the value residing not in its primary matter but in the finished product. As for crafts whose superiority lies in their benefit to the public, such as bath keepers and street sweepers, these crafts benefit all manner of people, young and old, noble and ignoble, native and foreigner. Craftsmen also vary in deriving benefit from their craft, just as they differ in their dress, their food and drink, and their dwellings. Here, the rich differ from the poor, all except bath keepers and hairdressers. As for street sweepers, the abandonment of this craft would bring great harm to all city dwellers. Thus, were the perfumers, the primary element in whose craft is the exact opposite of that of street sweepers – were they to close their shops and market alleys for a whole month, the harm to city dwellers would not equal the harm done if street sweepers were to abandon their craft for one week. 36

1

Dirham: a silver coin.

86  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Sufism (Islam ic m y s t ic is m ) By the tenth century Sufism had become an established discipline in the Islamic world. The Sufi sayings and stories below date from the eighth to the tenth century. 78. Sufi sayings and stories Abu ʿAbd al-Rahman al-Sulami (d. 1021), from Nishapur in eastern Iran, was a historian and biographer of Sufism and Sufi figures.   1. God Almighty never exalted a creature in any manner more exalted than to teach him how to debase his soul, and never debased a creature in any manner more debasing than to conceal from him how to debase his soul. (133)   2. The salvation of the heart lies in four things. The first is to be constantly mindful of God, which is the source of devotion. Its opposite is hypocrisy. The second is poverty before God by needing no one but God and adhering to none but Him. Its opposite is to be satisfied with ignorance. The third is the fear of God. Its opposite is a feeling of security, which is the cause of all sins. The fourth is humility before God’s creatures without greed. Its opposite is pride combined with greed. (137)   3. Affirming God’s oneness means that you do not get to know Him by rational deduction, nor be ignorant of Him by inspiration. Reason is an instrument granted in order to establish servitude to God, not to investigate divinity, for reason is feeble and can only denote something as feeble as itself. (139)   4. He was asked ‘What caused you to repent?’ and answered ‘A wonder that you cannot bear to believe’. Pressed to reveal it he said: ‘I wanted to leave Cairo and head towards a village. Reaching a deserted region, I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes I saw a bird they call qunbara [lark]. The bird was blind and clinging to a high place. When it fell to the ground, the ground split and two bowls emerged, one golden, the other silver. One contained sesame, the other water. The bird fed from one and drank from the other. I said: “I have seen enough. I have repented.” So I held fast to God’s gate until He accepted me.’ (145)   5. When the world showers its gifts upon someone it grants him someone else’s virtues. When the world turns its face away from him, it robs him of his own virtues. (156)   6. He who knows that the Almighty knows about him what he knows about himself before he acts, and yet does not fear God, holds God of little account. (166)   7. I have never seen anything fairer than this world. If you serve it, it serves you. If you abandon it, it abandons you. (169)   8. Asked to explain the Qur’anic verse {He is the First and the Last, the Apparent and the Hidden} [Q.57: 3] he said: ‘He is First through His grace, Last through His pardon, Apparent through His bounty, and Hidden through His veiling and overlooking of sin.’ (175)   9. When you weep, follow this up by weeping for the insincerity of your weeping, for it may be that the weeping that does you good is the weeping over your weeping. (178) 10. The soil of happiness is gnosis, the seed of happiness is certainty, the water of happiness is knowledge, the field of happiness is trust in God, the guide to happiness is the Prophet, the lord of happiness is God and the fruit of happiness is paradise. (192) 11. God Almighty declines to revive a soul before He causes it to die, for He said {We sub-

su fism (isl amic my sticism)   87 jected you to an ordeal most severe} [Q.20: 40]. This means that God has burnt you in the fire of an ordeal so that you became pure and pious. (195) 12. He who does not worship God through fear, hope and love is not truly devoted to Him, and he who does not devote his life to establishing his servitude to God separates himself from God unawares. For he who worships God through fear falls in the sea of free will, and he who worships Him through hope falls in the sea of predestination, and he who worships God through love but without fear or hope is soon overcome by delusions and heresies. But he who worships God through fear, hope and love gains probity with God and is truly devoted to Him. (198) 13. When told that a man had built a tomb in his house at which he gazes he said: ‘Let him gaze at the world for the world is one big tomb.’ (199) 14. The mark of a hypocrite is a rebellious soul and a rebellious heart while both call to God. (202) 15. If you see someone well liked by his friends and highly praised by his neighbours, know that he is a hypocrite. (217) 16. He who is preoccupied with his destiny in the afterlife – this is revealed by his solitude and seclusion. He who is certain that every blessing is mixed with misfortune is not at peace with blessings, and he who is certain that every misfortune is mixed with a blessing–misfortune passes him by like a blessing. (220) 17. He who gains the friendship of God does so not through serving God much but through much observing the grace of God. (240) 18. Through certainty of faith men have walked on water. Others more certain than they have died of thirst. (244) 19. I never said ‘O God, I am walking on the path of repentance’ but rather ‘O God, grant me the fervent desire to repent’. (249) 20. If you recall your sin but do not find the sweetness of that sin in your heart when recalled, that is repentance. (263) 21. O God, if we come to know You, You baffle us. If we are ignorant of You, You torment us. If we journey towards You, You exhaust us. If we abandon You, You make us uneasy. What path do we follow to gain Your good pleasure? What road do we take to attain Your grace? (288) 22. Fear is a lantern inside the heart through which is glimpsed what the heart contains of good or evil. (291) 23. For the man of faith there is nothing comparable to his Lord. He gave him his faith though knowing his sinfulness. (298) 24. A load you carry for your own sake will enfeeble you even if light, and a load you carry for the sake of God will not enfeeble you even if heavy. (311) 25. The real Sufi has one characteristic and the false Sufi another. The mark of the real Sufi is to become poor after being rich, humble after being mighty and obscure after being famous. The false Sufi is one who becomes rich after being poor, mighty after being humble and famous after being obscure. (314) 26. The world consists of four things: wealth, speech, sleep and food. Wealth extinguishes the heart, speech diverts it, sleep causes it to forget and food hardens it. (405)

88  p a r t i , sectio n ii 79. Licit and illicit as colours: a Sufi view Abu Talib al-Makki (d. 996) was a jurist and mystic of Mecca and Iraq, and author of a celebrated treatise on Sufism. Licit and illicit are clear opposites whereas doubtful or uncertain acts, by which I mean the doubtfully licit or doubtfully illicit, are ambiguous categories, since they resemble the licit in one respect and the illicit in another. Let us consider the following example from the field of colours, such as white and black. These are primary colours, neither secondary to any other colour nor generated from any mixture of colours. The doubtfully licit resembles the colour yellow because yellow is generated from white, while the doubtfully illicit resembles green, a colour generated from black. If you detect yellowness, this is a sign of the doubtfully licit. You ought then to assign it to its origin and judge it accordingly. Green is nearer to black. If yellow and green are found together, these are the ambiguities that are mixed together in the same moral condition. You should then judge according to which of these two colours predominates or is found in excess of the other. If yellow is found to dominate, this is doubtfully licit. You can avail yourself of it but without excess since it is not purely licit. An example would be things like the wealth of merchants and craftsmen commingled with the salaries paid to troops and other similar transactions. If you find that green predominates, this would be the doubtfully illicit. Take from it the bare minimum of what you need, since it is not purely illicit. An example would be the properties of state servants because there is ambiguity as to their possessions being part of their service to their masters. Once you detect pure whiteness, take what you want and feel at ease, though no blame will attach to you if you display an ascetical attitude towards it. Examples of this would be taxes levied on polytheists, and booty gained in the path of God, as also pure inheritance, the fruits of the earth if the earth is not usurped, rain from the heavens or river water and game to be found on land or sea. If you detect total blackness this is a sign of the illicit. Turn away from it and take nothing from it. If you do take from it you will be a sinner, and consuming what is illicit is a major sin. Examples would be usurped property or the fruits of crime, or what is consumed through sin or acquired without the consent of the donor. The origin of the licit among people in general is the justice and moral conduct of religious leaders and governors, and the obedience shown to them by subjects as regards the path of God in order to reform religion and protect Muslims. The licit appears and then spreads among subjects. If this is diminished and turns into its opposite, the licit becomes ambiguous, then vanishes, whereupon the illicit appears and spreads. The licit then becomes rare and is found only among a minority of Muslims whom God chooses to honour and love, in whichever way He chooses to guide and protect them. 80. Sufi solitude (excerpts) Ghazali As for the life of solitude, its value lies in avoiding worldly distractions and curbing the hearing and the vision, for these two are the corridors of the heart. The human heart is like a pool into which flow turgid, evil-smelling and dirty waters from the rivers of the senses. The object of spiritual exercises is to empty that pool of those waters so that the spring at the bottom of the pool can gush forth, and pure and clean waters can flow. Otherwise, how can a person clean out that pool so long as these filthy rivers flow into it, constantly replenishing

88  p a r t i , sectio n ii 79. Licit and illicit as colours: a Sufi view Abu Talib al-Makki (d. 996) was a jurist and mystic of Mecca and Iraq, and author of a celebrated treatise on Sufism. Licit and illicit are clear opposites whereas doubtful or uncertain acts, by which I mean the doubtfully licit or doubtfully illicit, are ambiguous categories, since they resemble the licit in one respect and the illicit in another. Let us consider the following example from the field of colours, such as white and black. These are primary colours, neither secondary to any other colour nor generated from any mixture of colours. The doubtfully licit resembles the colour yellow because yellow is generated from white, while the doubtfully illicit resembles green, a colour generated from black. If you detect yellowness, this is a sign of the doubtfully licit. You ought then to assign it to its origin and judge it accordingly. Green is nearer to black. If yellow and green are found together, these are the ambiguities that are mixed together in the same moral condition. You should then judge according to which of these two colours predominates or is found in excess of the other. If yellow is found to dominate, this is doubtfully licit. You can avail yourself of it but without excess since it is not purely licit. An example would be things like the wealth of merchants and craftsmen commingled with the salaries paid to troops and other similar transactions. If you find that green predominates, this would be the doubtfully illicit. Take from it the bare minimum of what you need, since it is not purely illicit. An example would be the properties of state servants because there is ambiguity as to their possessions being part of their service to their masters. Once you detect pure whiteness, take what you want and feel at ease, though no blame will attach to you if you display an ascetical attitude towards it. Examples of this would be taxes levied on polytheists, and booty gained in the path of God, as also pure inheritance, the fruits of the earth if the earth is not usurped, rain from the heavens or river water and game to be found on land or sea. If you detect total blackness this is a sign of the illicit. Turn away from it and take nothing from it. If you do take from it you will be a sinner, and consuming what is illicit is a major sin. Examples would be usurped property or the fruits of crime, or what is consumed through sin or acquired without the consent of the donor. The origin of the licit among people in general is the justice and moral conduct of religious leaders and governors, and the obedience shown to them by subjects as regards the path of God in order to reform religion and protect Muslims. The licit appears and then spreads among subjects. If this is diminished and turns into its opposite, the licit becomes ambiguous, then vanishes, whereupon the illicit appears and spreads. The licit then becomes rare and is found only among a minority of Muslims whom God chooses to honour and love, in whichever way He chooses to guide and protect them. 80. Sufi solitude (excerpts) Ghazali As for the life of solitude, its value lies in avoiding worldly distractions and curbing the hearing and the vision, for these two are the corridors of the heart. The human heart is like a pool into which flow turgid, evil-smelling and dirty waters from the rivers of the senses. The object of spiritual exercises is to empty that pool of those waters so that the spring at the bottom of the pool can gush forth, and pure and clean waters can flow. Otherwise, how can a person clean out that pool so long as these filthy rivers flow into it, constantly replenishing

su fism (isl amic my sticism)   89 what is lost? Hence one must curb the senses except as absolutely necessary, and this can best be done through solitude in a darkened house. If a person cannot find such a house let him cover his head with his sleeve or else veil himself with a blanket or shawl. In that state, he will hear the call of truth and feel the majesty of the divine presence. Do you not see how the call to truth came to the Prophet while he was in that condition? For it was said to him: O you folded in garments! O you shrouded in your mantle!137 81. How Satan enters the human heart (excerpts) Ghazali The heart is like a fortress which the enemy, Satan, seeks to enter and occupy. This fortress can only be protected by guarding its gates, its points of entry and its weak spots. These gates and points of entry are in fact the attributes or character traits of a human being. But these are many in number so we shall confine ourselves to the major gates and inroads through which the armies of Satan can break. Among these major gates are anger and carnal appetite. Anger is the monster of the mind. When the army of the mind weakens, the army of Satan attacks. When a human being flares up in anger, Satan plays with him like a child playing with a ball. Among these gates are envy and covetousness. The more covetous a creature is, the more blind and deaf he grows. It is through the light of discernment that the entry points of Satan are known. When envy and covetousness veil that light, man becomes blind and Satan gets his chance to make attractive to the covetous person the pursuit of his appetites, however foul they may be. Among them is gluttony, for gluttony reinforces the appetites and the appetites are the weapons of Satan. Gluttony has six blameworthy characteristics: it removes the awe of God from the heart; it removes the quality of mercy towards others by making it appear as if all mankind are well fed; it renders a person too lethargic to perform religious duties; when words of wisdom are uttered, the glutton shows no sympathy or response; when preaching or teaching people, the glutton does not find a willing ear; the glutton is prone to disease. Among them is love of ornament in furniture, clothes or houses. If Satan detects this in a person, he will continue to encourage him to build and decorate and adorn, for one thing will lead to another until he arrives at death’s door as a follower of Satan and of his own appetites. Among them is greed. When greed overcomes the heart, Satan makes a person love affectation and pretence and all kinds of hypocrisy and deceit to the point where the object of his greed becomes almost an object of worship. Satan is preoccupied with ways and means of gaining a person’s love and approval. At the very least, he keeps praising him for virtues that he does not possess. Among them is haste and neglect of foresight. This is because all acts should be undertaken after due deliberation and knowledge, which in turn need calm reflection. Haste prevents this. Among them are silver and gold coins and all sorts of possessions like pack animals and landed property. Where there is surfeit above and beyond basic needs there will Satan make his home. He who has his basic needs has a heart free from cares. But if he finds a hundred gold coins by the wayside his heart begins to fill with desires, each of which requires another

1

These two phrases refer to the opening words of Q. 73 and 74.

su fism (isl amic my sticism)   89 what is lost? Hence one must curb the senses except as absolutely necessary, and this can best be done through solitude in a darkened house. If a person cannot find such a house let him cover his head with his sleeve or else veil himself with a blanket or shawl. In that state, he will hear the call of truth and feel the majesty of the divine presence. Do you not see how the call to truth came to the Prophet while he was in that condition? For it was said to him: O you folded in garments! O you shrouded in your mantle!137 81. How Satan enters the human heart (excerpts) Ghazali The heart is like a fortress which the enemy, Satan, seeks to enter and occupy. This fortress can only be protected by guarding its gates, its points of entry and its weak spots. These gates and points of entry are in fact the attributes or character traits of a human being. But these are many in number so we shall confine ourselves to the major gates and inroads through which the armies of Satan can break. Among these major gates are anger and carnal appetite. Anger is the monster of the mind. When the army of the mind weakens, the army of Satan attacks. When a human being flares up in anger, Satan plays with him like a child playing with a ball. Among these gates are envy and covetousness. The more covetous a creature is, the more blind and deaf he grows. It is through the light of discernment that the entry points of Satan are known. When envy and covetousness veil that light, man becomes blind and Satan gets his chance to make attractive to the covetous person the pursuit of his appetites, however foul they may be. Among them is gluttony, for gluttony reinforces the appetites and the appetites are the weapons of Satan. Gluttony has six blameworthy characteristics: it removes the awe of God from the heart; it removes the quality of mercy towards others by making it appear as if all mankind are well fed; it renders a person too lethargic to perform religious duties; when words of wisdom are uttered, the glutton shows no sympathy or response; when preaching or teaching people, the glutton does not find a willing ear; the glutton is prone to disease. Among them is love of ornament in furniture, clothes or houses. If Satan detects this in a person, he will continue to encourage him to build and decorate and adorn, for one thing will lead to another until he arrives at death’s door as a follower of Satan and of his own appetites. Among them is greed. When greed overcomes the heart, Satan makes a person love affectation and pretence and all kinds of hypocrisy and deceit to the point where the object of his greed becomes almost an object of worship. Satan is preoccupied with ways and means of gaining a person’s love and approval. At the very least, he keeps praising him for virtues that he does not possess. Among them is haste and neglect of foresight. This is because all acts should be undertaken after due deliberation and knowledge, which in turn need calm reflection. Haste prevents this. Among them are silver and gold coins and all sorts of possessions like pack animals and landed property. Where there is surfeit above and beyond basic needs there will Satan make his home. He who has his basic needs has a heart free from cares. But if he finds a hundred gold coins by the wayside his heart begins to fill with desires, each of which requires another

1

These two phrases refer to the opening words of Q. 73 and 74.

90  p a r t i , sectio n ii hundred. Not satisfied with what he has found, he needs another nine hundred. Where once he was satisfied before he found the first hundred, he now thinks he needs another nine hundred to buy a house, a slave and luxurious furniture and clothes. Each possession brings in its wake a desire for another that conforms to it. He ends by falling into a pit as deep as hell. Among them are miserliness and fear of poverty. These prevent expenditure and charity and lead to hoarding. Miserliness also results in a preoccupation with markets and money. The market place is where Satan nestles. Among them is sectarian fanaticism, as also hatred and contempt of enemies. This results in universal destruction. Furthermore, slander of people and constant mention of their deficiency is a bestial trait ingrained in a character. If Satan deludes a person into thinking that this is only right and proper, that person begins to enjoy and then preoccupy himself with this kind of conduct, all the while happy to imagine that he is performing a religious duty, whereas in reality he is a follower of Satan. Thus you might see someone who is a fanatic supporter of Abu Bakr1 while all the while he consumes illicit wealth and wags his tongue with lies. If Abu Bakr could see him he would be his chief enemy. Or you might see a fanatical adherent of ʿAli, who was an ascetic, wearing silken garments and enjoying illicit wealth, claiming to love ʿAli though ʿAli will be the first to disown him on Judgment Day. Among them is encouraging uneducated commoners to contemplate God’s essence and attributes, which leads them to doubt the fundamentals of religion and to become heretical, all the while pleased with themselves for thinking that they have found the truth. The stupidest of people are those who are most confident in the power of their minds; the most sensible and clever are those who question the power of their minds and are constantly questioning scholars. These are some of the gates through which Satan enters the human heart. If I wanted to list all these gates, I would not be able to do so. Suffice it to say that there is no human vice which Satan does not employ as a weapon or a gate through which he enters the heart. 38

1

Abu Bakr (d. 634): first successor of Muhammad and first caliph of Islam, considered illegitimate by some Shiʿites.

prove rbs and ap horisms   91

P ro v erbs a n d  ap hor is m s This genre was popular in works of literature. However, the proverbs of commoners listed below were an unusual feature in such works because commoners were not normally regarded as a source of wisdom. 82. Proverbs popular among the common people of Baghdad in the tenth century Al-Abi (d. 1030) was a vizier of the Buwayhid dynasty,1 a man of letters and author of a famous literary anthology. 39

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

1

He sold his vineyard and bought a press. He sold his medications and bought a lump of tar. He who turns himself into bran is eaten by chicken. More patient than a blacksmith’s heart. Meaner than a prison mouse. A sieve is new for seven days only. The master copulates and his eunuch is overjoyed. We were not happy with the devil; how much less with his progeny! We didn’t welcome him even as a friend, but now he’s a stepfather! Shut up and eat shit when the cause is just. When you ladies fry you will know how to cook. When the weaver grows rich, he calls his daughter ‘Miss Butter’. The devil runs around without a licence; how will it be if he has one registered in his name? Kneading dough and blowing a horn do not go together. Turning a corner in a wilderness is a calamity. The cross-eyed girl, compared to the one-eyed, is called ‘eyes-close-together’. The grandmother has almost become the bride. So-and-so is like the Kaʿba: he is visited but does not visit. The covering is better than the horse. If God wishes to destroy an ant, He gives it wings. There can be no rational deliberation where love is concerned. He who has no mind is free of anxiety. When the thieves quarrel, the owner finds his property. Whatever is novel is always found pleasurable. The drum is accustomed to being beaten. He farts from a wide arse. You are blowing on cold iron. He oils his head from an empty bottle. He steals a morsel from the jaws of a lion. Whenever he attempts to fly, they cut his wings. His perfume cannot hide the smell of his farting. His arsehole missed the hole in the ground.

The Buwayhid dynasty ruled Iran, Iraq and Syria between 934 and 1055.

92  p a r t i , sectio n ii • • • • • • • • • • •

If a slap goes missing, it will be found on his backside. He is related to the Prophet through Yaʿfur [the Prophet’s donkey]. Victory over him is a defeat. His speech is like the wind in a cage. If it’s straight it’s a knife; if crooked, a scythe. He was once an anvil but now he’s a hammer. His scowl is worse than a cat with gooseflesh. He rides on an elephant and says: ‘You can’t see me!’ The devil does not destroy his own vineyard. He ran away from the rain and sat under the drain. Whoever is too shy with his wife will have his progeny in the afterlife.

l ite rary judge me nts   93

L itera ry ju dge m e nt s 83. The celebrated poet al-Farazdaq (d. 728) to a man who showed him his inferior verse Abu Zayd al-Qurashi (d. early 10th century). Nothing is known of his life and even his date of death is in dispute. Poetry was once a magnificent camel. Then, one day, it was slaughtered. So Imruʾul Qays1 came and took away his head, ʿAmr ibn Kulthum took his hump, Zuhayr his shoulders, al-Aʿsha and al-Nabigha his thighs, and Tarafa and Labid his stomach. There remained the forearms and the offal, which we split among ourselves. The butcher then said: ‘Hey you, all that is left is the blood and impurities. See that I get them.’ ‘They are yours,’ we replied. So he took the stuff, cooked it, ate it and excreted it. Your verses are from the excrement of that butcher. 40

84. The famous critic al-Asmaʿi (d. 828) on poetry Al-Marzubani (d. 994), an Iraqi scholar, was an expert on poetry and a compiler of literary anecdotes. If you were to lead poetry down the path of virtue, you would enfeeble it. Do you not see how Hassan ibn Thabit2 had attained eminence in the pre-Islamic and Islamic eras but when his poetry followed the path of virtue, as in the elegies he composed on the Prophet, Hamza,3 Jaʿfar4 and others, his verse became feeble? The path of poetry is the path of studs,  of poets like Imruʾul Qays, Zuhayr and al-Nabigha, who sing of encampments and departures, defamation and panegyric, flirtation with women, the wild ass and the horse, war and glory. 41

85. On verse and prose Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi One day, when the conversation moved to the subject of verse and prose, Abu Sulayman5 said: ‘Verse inclines more closely to nature because verse belongs to the domain of complexity, whereas prose inclines more closely to the intellect because prose belongs to the domain of simplicity. We appreciate verse more than we do prose because there is more in us of nature than there is of intellect, and metrical speech is beloved by nature and the senses. This is why verse is found wanting when a poetical phrase is deemed distasteful. The intellect on the other hand seeks meaning, and is indifferent to phrasing even when it finds it charming and lovely. The proof that the soul seeks for meaning, to the exclusion of an ornamental phrase expressed necessarily in metrical form, is that meaning, once depicted in ideas and notions and once it satisfies its definition, is indifferent to what might fortify it by way of phrasing, which latter is like a garment, an exhibit, a receptacle or a covering. And yet the intellect 1 The names in these two lines are all celebrated pre-Islamic poets. 2 Hassan ibn Thabit: the Prophet’s poet laureate. 3 Hamza: uncle of the Prophet. 4 Jaʿfar: cousin of the Prophet. 5 Abu Sulayman al-Mantiqi (d. circa 1000): a famous philosopher and the author’s ‘guru’.

l ite rary judge me nts   93

L itera ry ju dge m e nt s 83. The celebrated poet al-Farazdaq (d. 728) to a man who showed him his inferior verse Abu Zayd al-Qurashi (d. early 10th century). Nothing is known of his life and even his date of death is in dispute. Poetry was once a magnificent camel. Then, one day, it was slaughtered. So Imruʾul Qays1 came and took away his head, ʿAmr ibn Kulthum took his hump, Zuhayr his shoulders, al-Aʿsha and al-Nabigha his thighs, and Tarafa and Labid his stomach. There remained the forearms and the offal, which we split among ourselves. The butcher then said: ‘Hey you, all that is left is the blood and impurities. See that I get them.’ ‘They are yours,’ we replied. So he took the stuff, cooked it, ate it and excreted it. Your verses are from the excrement of that butcher. 40

84. The famous critic al-Asmaʿi (d. 828) on poetry Al-Marzubani (d. 994), an Iraqi scholar, was an expert on poetry and a compiler of literary anecdotes. If you were to lead poetry down the path of virtue, you would enfeeble it. Do you not see how Hassan ibn Thabit2 had attained eminence in the pre-Islamic and Islamic eras but when his poetry followed the path of virtue, as in the elegies he composed on the Prophet, Hamza,3 Jaʿfar4 and others, his verse became feeble? The path of poetry is the path of studs,  of poets like Imruʾul Qays, Zuhayr and al-Nabigha, who sing of encampments and departures, defamation and panegyric, flirtation with women, the wild ass and the horse, war and glory. 41

85. On verse and prose Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi One day, when the conversation moved to the subject of verse and prose, Abu Sulayman5 said: ‘Verse inclines more closely to nature because verse belongs to the domain of complexity, whereas prose inclines more closely to the intellect because prose belongs to the domain of simplicity. We appreciate verse more than we do prose because there is more in us of nature than there is of intellect, and metrical speech is beloved by nature and the senses. This is why verse is found wanting when a poetical phrase is deemed distasteful. The intellect on the other hand seeks meaning, and is indifferent to phrasing even when it finds it charming and lovely. The proof that the soul seeks for meaning, to the exclusion of an ornamental phrase expressed necessarily in metrical form, is that meaning, once depicted in ideas and notions and once it satisfies its definition, is indifferent to what might fortify it by way of phrasing, which latter is like a garment, an exhibit, a receptacle or a covering. And yet the intellect 1 The names in these two lines are all celebrated pre-Islamic poets. 2 Hassan ibn Thabit: the Prophet’s poet laureate. 3 Hamza: uncle of the Prophet. 4 Jaʿfar: cousin of the Prophet. 5 Abu Sulayman al-Mantiqi (d. circa 1000): a famous philosopher and the author’s ‘guru’.

l ite rary judge me nts   93

L itera ry ju dge m e nt s 83. The celebrated poet al-Farazdaq (d. 728) to a man who showed him his inferior verse Abu Zayd al-Qurashi (d. early 10th century). Nothing is known of his life and even his date of death is in dispute. Poetry was once a magnificent camel. Then, one day, it was slaughtered. So Imruʾul Qays1 came and took away his head, ʿAmr ibn Kulthum took his hump, Zuhayr his shoulders, al-Aʿsha and al-Nabigha his thighs, and Tarafa and Labid his stomach. There remained the forearms and the offal, which we split among ourselves. The butcher then said: ‘Hey you, all that is left is the blood and impurities. See that I get them.’ ‘They are yours,’ we replied. So he took the stuff, cooked it, ate it and excreted it. Your verses are from the excrement of that butcher. 40

84. The famous critic al-Asmaʿi (d. 828) on poetry Al-Marzubani (d. 994), an Iraqi scholar, was an expert on poetry and a compiler of literary anecdotes. If you were to lead poetry down the path of virtue, you would enfeeble it. Do you not see how Hassan ibn Thabit2 had attained eminence in the pre-Islamic and Islamic eras but when his poetry followed the path of virtue, as in the elegies he composed on the Prophet, Hamza,3 Jaʿfar4 and others, his verse became feeble? The path of poetry is the path of studs,  of poets like Imruʾul Qays, Zuhayr and al-Nabigha, who sing of encampments and departures, defamation and panegyric, flirtation with women, the wild ass and the horse, war and glory. 41

85. On verse and prose Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi One day, when the conversation moved to the subject of verse and prose, Abu Sulayman5 said: ‘Verse inclines more closely to nature because verse belongs to the domain of complexity, whereas prose inclines more closely to the intellect because prose belongs to the domain of simplicity. We appreciate verse more than we do prose because there is more in us of nature than there is of intellect, and metrical speech is beloved by nature and the senses. This is why verse is found wanting when a poetical phrase is deemed distasteful. The intellect on the other hand seeks meaning, and is indifferent to phrasing even when it finds it charming and lovely. The proof that the soul seeks for meaning, to the exclusion of an ornamental phrase expressed necessarily in metrical form, is that meaning, once depicted in ideas and notions and once it satisfies its definition, is indifferent to what might fortify it by way of phrasing, which latter is like a garment, an exhibit, a receptacle or a covering. And yet the intellect 1 The names in these two lines are all celebrated pre-Islamic poets. 2 Hassan ibn Thabit: the Prophet’s poet laureate. 3 Hamza: uncle of the Prophet. 4 Jaʿfar: cousin of the Prophet. 5 Abu Sulayman al-Mantiqi (d. circa 1000): a famous philosopher and the author’s ‘guru’.

94  p a r t i , sectio n ii does prefer one phrase to another, treasures one image rather than another, is more comfortable with one metrical form than another; and it is for this reason that all speech is divided into types of prose and types of verse. This, however, is not true of nature. What nature sustains is that which is sweet to the ear and light for the heart, and has some relationship to truth. Nature’s verdict is commingled with the dictates of the soul while what the soul finds acceptable depends on rational guidance by the intellect. ‘Yet in prose one finds a shadow of verse. Were it not so, it would not be found light and sweet; while in verse there is a shadow of prose. Were it not so, its various forms would not be distinct, nor would its origins, inspiration and metres be found pleasant, nor would its various parts and relations be found coherent.’ 86. The introduction to a famous literary anthology Ibn Qutayba (d. 889) was a celebrated Iraqi scholar and polymath. This work, while not devoted to the Qurʾan or Sunna,1 the laws of religion or the sciences of the licit and illicit, is nevertheless a guide to sublime matters and noble character; it reprimands vileness, proscribes shameful deeds, and inspires proper management of affairs and sound decision making, as well as leniency in governance and earthly welfare. There is not one single path to God, nor does the whole of virtue consist in spending the night in prayer, continuous fasting, and knowing the licit and illicit. Rather, the paths to God are many, the gates of virtue are wide open, and the well-being of religion depends on the well-being of temporal matters. The well-being of temporal matters depends on the well-being of the ruler, which in turn depends, following God’s grace, upon right counsel and sound advice. I have composed these ‘Choicest of Narratives’ to act as an eye opener for someone who is ignorant of adab,2 as a reminder to scholars of religion, as an education to him who is in charge of people and as a relaxation to rulers. This work is like a meal spread out where dishes of various tastes are displayed to satisfy the diverse desires of the diners. If you encounter a report in which there is an explicit mention of a pudendum or the frank description of a debauchery, do not allow your piety, real or affected, to turn you away in contempt. Naming bodily members is not a sin. Sin resides in cursing the honour of others, in perjury and lying, and in backbiting. The Prophet, upon whom blessings and peace, said: {If you hear someone consoling someone else with the consolation of the Jahiliyya,3 tell him to bite his father’s thing [member], but do not mention the father’s name.} When Budayl ibn Warqaʾ said to the Prophet: ‘When your followers feel the edge of steel they will surrender you,’ Abu Bakr4 said to him: ‘Go bite the clitoris of al-Lat!5 How can we ever surrender him?!’ ʿAli once said: ‘He who reaches the height of his father’s penis will wear it as a belt.’6 42

87. The famous poet Abu Tammam on his verse Muhammad ibn Yahya al-Suli (d. 946) was a noted literary scholar and companion of several Abbasid caliphs. Sunna: the Prophet’s exemplary life, collected in the Hadith. 2 Adab: literary attainments. 3 Jahiliyya: era of savagery, that is the pre-Islamic era as described by the Qurʾan. 4 Abu Bakr (d. 634): first successor of Muhammad and first caliph of Islam, considered illegitimate by some Shiʿites. 5 al-Lat: a pre-Islamic Meccan goddess. 6 ‘He who . . .’: understood to mean that a man with many brothers gains in strength. 1

94  p a r t i , sectio n ii does prefer one phrase to another, treasures one image rather than another, is more comfortable with one metrical form than another; and it is for this reason that all speech is divided into types of prose and types of verse. This, however, is not true of nature. What nature sustains is that which is sweet to the ear and light for the heart, and has some relationship to truth. Nature’s verdict is commingled with the dictates of the soul while what the soul finds acceptable depends on rational guidance by the intellect. ‘Yet in prose one finds a shadow of verse. Were it not so, it would not be found light and sweet; while in verse there is a shadow of prose. Were it not so, its various forms would not be distinct, nor would its origins, inspiration and metres be found pleasant, nor would its various parts and relations be found coherent.’ 86. The introduction to a famous literary anthology Ibn Qutayba (d. 889) was a celebrated Iraqi scholar and polymath. This work, while not devoted to the Qurʾan or Sunna,1 the laws of religion or the sciences of the licit and illicit, is nevertheless a guide to sublime matters and noble character; it reprimands vileness, proscribes shameful deeds, and inspires proper management of affairs and sound decision making, as well as leniency in governance and earthly welfare. There is not one single path to God, nor does the whole of virtue consist in spending the night in prayer, continuous fasting, and knowing the licit and illicit. Rather, the paths to God are many, the gates of virtue are wide open, and the well-being of religion depends on the well-being of temporal matters. The well-being of temporal matters depends on the well-being of the ruler, which in turn depends, following God’s grace, upon right counsel and sound advice. I have composed these ‘Choicest of Narratives’ to act as an eye opener for someone who is ignorant of adab,2 as a reminder to scholars of religion, as an education to him who is in charge of people and as a relaxation to rulers. This work is like a meal spread out where dishes of various tastes are displayed to satisfy the diverse desires of the diners. If you encounter a report in which there is an explicit mention of a pudendum or the frank description of a debauchery, do not allow your piety, real or affected, to turn you away in contempt. Naming bodily members is not a sin. Sin resides in cursing the honour of others, in perjury and lying, and in backbiting. The Prophet, upon whom blessings and peace, said: {If you hear someone consoling someone else with the consolation of the Jahiliyya,3 tell him to bite his father’s thing [member], but do not mention the father’s name.} When Budayl ibn Warqaʾ said to the Prophet: ‘When your followers feel the edge of steel they will surrender you,’ Abu Bakr4 said to him: ‘Go bite the clitoris of al-Lat!5 How can we ever surrender him?!’ ʿAli once said: ‘He who reaches the height of his father’s penis will wear it as a belt.’6 42

87. The famous poet Abu Tammam on his verse Muhammad ibn Yahya al-Suli (d. 946) was a noted literary scholar and companion of several Abbasid caliphs. Sunna: the Prophet’s exemplary life, collected in the Hadith. 2 Adab: literary attainments. 3 Jahiliyya: era of savagery, that is the pre-Islamic era as described by the Qurʾan. 4 Abu Bakr (d. 634): first successor of Muhammad and first caliph of Islam, considered illegitimate by some Shiʿites. 5 al-Lat: a pre-Islamic Meccan goddess. 6 ‘He who . . .’: understood to mean that a man with many brothers gains in strength. 1

94  p a r t i , sectio n ii does prefer one phrase to another, treasures one image rather than another, is more comfortable with one metrical form than another; and it is for this reason that all speech is divided into types of prose and types of verse. This, however, is not true of nature. What nature sustains is that which is sweet to the ear and light for the heart, and has some relationship to truth. Nature’s verdict is commingled with the dictates of the soul while what the soul finds acceptable depends on rational guidance by the intellect. ‘Yet in prose one finds a shadow of verse. Were it not so, it would not be found light and sweet; while in verse there is a shadow of prose. Were it not so, its various forms would not be distinct, nor would its origins, inspiration and metres be found pleasant, nor would its various parts and relations be found coherent.’ 86. The introduction to a famous literary anthology Ibn Qutayba (d. 889) was a celebrated Iraqi scholar and polymath. This work, while not devoted to the Qurʾan or Sunna,1 the laws of religion or the sciences of the licit and illicit, is nevertheless a guide to sublime matters and noble character; it reprimands vileness, proscribes shameful deeds, and inspires proper management of affairs and sound decision making, as well as leniency in governance and earthly welfare. There is not one single path to God, nor does the whole of virtue consist in spending the night in prayer, continuous fasting, and knowing the licit and illicit. Rather, the paths to God are many, the gates of virtue are wide open, and the well-being of religion depends on the well-being of temporal matters. The well-being of temporal matters depends on the well-being of the ruler, which in turn depends, following God’s grace, upon right counsel and sound advice. I have composed these ‘Choicest of Narratives’ to act as an eye opener for someone who is ignorant of adab,2 as a reminder to scholars of religion, as an education to him who is in charge of people and as a relaxation to rulers. This work is like a meal spread out where dishes of various tastes are displayed to satisfy the diverse desires of the diners. If you encounter a report in which there is an explicit mention of a pudendum or the frank description of a debauchery, do not allow your piety, real or affected, to turn you away in contempt. Naming bodily members is not a sin. Sin resides in cursing the honour of others, in perjury and lying, and in backbiting. The Prophet, upon whom blessings and peace, said: {If you hear someone consoling someone else with the consolation of the Jahiliyya,3 tell him to bite his father’s thing [member], but do not mention the father’s name.} When Budayl ibn Warqaʾ said to the Prophet: ‘When your followers feel the edge of steel they will surrender you,’ Abu Bakr4 said to him: ‘Go bite the clitoris of al-Lat!5 How can we ever surrender him?!’ ʿAli once said: ‘He who reaches the height of his father’s penis will wear it as a belt.’6 42

87. The famous poet Abu Tammam on his verse Muhammad ibn Yahya al-Suli (d. 946) was a noted literary scholar and companion of several Abbasid caliphs. Sunna: the Prophet’s exemplary life, collected in the Hadith. 2 Adab: literary attainments. 3 Jahiliyya: era of savagery, that is the pre-Islamic era as described by the Qurʾan. 4 Abu Bakr (d. 634): first successor of Muhammad and first caliph of Islam, considered illegitimate by some Shiʿites. 5 al-Lat: a pre-Islamic Meccan goddess. 6 ‘He who . . .’: understood to mean that a man with many brothers gains in strength. 1

l ite rary judge me nts   95 A poet said: ‘I once visited Abu Tammam [d. 845]. He had just completed an ode of unequalled beauty but there was one line that was not like the rest and he knew that I had spotted the line. I said: “If only you could have left that line out.” He smiled and said: “Do you think you know more about this matter than I do? Listen, it is like a father who has many children, all of whom are cultured, handsome and well respected. One of them, however, is ugly and retarded. The father knows this about him and knows where he stands and yet does not wish him dead. That is why this sort of thing occurs in poetry.”’ 88. When can a simile be considered truly remarkable? [excerpts] ʿAbd al-Qahir al-Jurjani (d. 1078), a native of Jurjan, in Iran, was arguably the most acute literary critic of pre-modern Islamic culture. Things that are common in kind and genus, because they are so obviously alike and congruous, do not need any special exertion or any deep thinking to prove or establish their similitude. However, real craftsmanship and skill, combined with a fine and delicate perspicacity, consists in gathering together the ‘necks’ of things that are very diverse and antithetical in one ‘noose’, thus tying together images that are alien to one another in one harmonious net. This is evident in all crafts and all activities that display sophistication and finesse. For you will notice that the more the parts of a crafted image are diverse in shape and form which are then more perfectly blended, the more remarkable is the finished product and the more skilful its artist. When I speak of perspicacity in gathering together things that are very diverse, I do not mean that one can create a similitude which has no basis in reason, but rather that there exist hidden similitudes which require close and attentive examination. Consider the case of comparing two things that are very different in kind. If such a comparison is subtle and beautiful, such subtlety and beauty is evident between the thing and that to which it is being compared, but the comparison itself is only revealed when the images are carefully brought to mind, compared with one another – their true intent deduced – and then divested of all else that is connected to them. For example, you might compare one thing to another from the viewpoint of its movement, thus intending harmony between one image and another but divested of materiality, colour or other attributes. Consider for instance the following verse by Ibn al-Muʿtazz where he compares lightning thus: It was as if the lightning was a book in the hands of a reader, Opening then closing. The poet did not bother himself with all the attributes of lightning but only with the image that an eye finds for it: distension followed by shrinkage, spreading out followed by merger. The poet then looked for the most appropriate kind of motion for purposes of comparison and found this to be the particular manner in which a reader opens then closes a book. This simile causes wonder and admiration not only because the two things being compared are vastly different in kind but also because alongside that difference there occurs a perfect and beautiful harmony. It is the combination of these two images – perfect harmony combined with great diversity – that creates beauty and charm.

l ite rary judge me nts   95 A poet said: ‘I once visited Abu Tammam [d. 845]. He had just completed an ode of unequalled beauty but there was one line that was not like the rest and he knew that I had spotted the line. I said: “If only you could have left that line out.” He smiled and said: “Do you think you know more about this matter than I do? Listen, it is like a father who has many children, all of whom are cultured, handsome and well respected. One of them, however, is ugly and retarded. The father knows this about him and knows where he stands and yet does not wish him dead. That is why this sort of thing occurs in poetry.”’ 88. When can a simile be considered truly remarkable? [excerpts] ʿAbd al-Qahir al-Jurjani (d. 1078), a native of Jurjan, in Iran, was arguably the most acute literary critic of pre-modern Islamic culture. Things that are common in kind and genus, because they are so obviously alike and congruous, do not need any special exertion or any deep thinking to prove or establish their similitude. However, real craftsmanship and skill, combined with a fine and delicate perspicacity, consists in gathering together the ‘necks’ of things that are very diverse and antithetical in one ‘noose’, thus tying together images that are alien to one another in one harmonious net. This is evident in all crafts and all activities that display sophistication and finesse. For you will notice that the more the parts of a crafted image are diverse in shape and form which are then more perfectly blended, the more remarkable is the finished product and the more skilful its artist. When I speak of perspicacity in gathering together things that are very diverse, I do not mean that one can create a similitude which has no basis in reason, but rather that there exist hidden similitudes which require close and attentive examination. Consider the case of comparing two things that are very different in kind. If such a comparison is subtle and beautiful, such subtlety and beauty is evident between the thing and that to which it is being compared, but the comparison itself is only revealed when the images are carefully brought to mind, compared with one another – their true intent deduced – and then divested of all else that is connected to them. For example, you might compare one thing to another from the viewpoint of its movement, thus intending harmony between one image and another but divested of materiality, colour or other attributes. Consider for instance the following verse by Ibn al-Muʿtazz where he compares lightning thus: It was as if the lightning was a book in the hands of a reader, Opening then closing. The poet did not bother himself with all the attributes of lightning but only with the image that an eye finds for it: distension followed by shrinkage, spreading out followed by merger. The poet then looked for the most appropriate kind of motion for purposes of comparison and found this to be the particular manner in which a reader opens then closes a book. This simile causes wonder and admiration not only because the two things being compared are vastly different in kind but also because alongside that difference there occurs a perfect and beautiful harmony. It is the combination of these two images – perfect harmony combined with great diversity – that creates beauty and charm.

96  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Reflectio n s on t he s t at e 89. The democratic city-state143 Farabi As for the democratic city, this is a city where every single inhabitant is free and left to his own devices, to do exactly as he pleases. Its inhabitants are equal, and their law stipulates that no human being is superior to any other in any respect whatsoever. Its inhabitants are at liberty to do what they wish, and no inhabitant has any power over any other inhabitant, or non-inhabitant, provided he does not act in such a way as to end their liberty. Thus, among them there arise numerous patterns of behaviour, numerous pursuits, numerous desires and the enjoyment of innumerable pleasures. Its inhabitants belong to many sects, both similar and dissimilar, countless in number. All these sects congregate in this city, sects that were once dispersed in all the other cities, both vile and noble. Positions of authority are attained haphazardly, in any of the ways we have already mentioned. The public at large in these cities, who do not possess the authority of the rulers, are in point of fact the masters of their so-called rulers, and he who rules does so by the will of those who are ruled. Their rulers have the same inclinations as those who are ruled. If their polity is carefully examined, it will be found that in reality there is neither ruler nor ruled. Those leaders who are found worthy of praise and honour among them are the ones who lead the inhabitants of the city to liberty and to the fulfilment of all their desires and cravings, as also are those who preserve and protect their liberty and their diverse cravings, with regard to both one another and external enemies. Meanwhile, these rulers themselves confine their cravings solely to what is necessary. This type of ruler is the one most honoured, most virtuous and most obeyed among them. All other rulers are either equal to the rest of the population or else inferior to them. A ruler is their equal if he provides them with the good things that they desire or crave while they in return offer him honours and wealth equal to what he has bestowed upon them. In that case, they do not perceive him to be superior to themselves. They are superior to him if they bestow honours on him and give up part of their wealth to him but derive no benefit from him. Thus, it is not unlikely that in this type of city there are found rulers of this description, rulers who happen to enjoy great prestige with the inhabitants. This is so either through the whims and desires of these inhabitants or because the ancestors of these rulers had once exercised a praiseworthy term of office so this ancestral achievement is appreciated and they are then given leadership. In such cases it is the public who exercise authority over their leaders, and all unenlightened inclinations and pursuits are completely fulfilled in this type of city, nay more. Among cities, this city is called the ‘wondrous’ or ‘happy’ city. On the outside, it resembles an embroidered fabric which contains all sorts of pictures and coloured dyes. It is a popular city, and popular for all people to live in because any human being who craves any desire whatsoever is able to fulfil that desire in this city. The nations make their way to it and live in it, and so it grows immeasurably. In it people of all natural dispositions mate together and in every kind and manner of marriage and copulation. In it too are born children of very diverse innate characters and very diverse education and instruction. Hence many cities are found gathered together in this one city, not distinct from one another but intermingled, with parts 1

It is notable that Farabi takes a more positive view of the democratic city than does Plato.

ref l e ctions on the state    97 of some dispersed among parts of others, and where the foreigner cannot be distinguished from the native. All cravings and all ways of life are found therein. Accordingly, and with the passage of time, it is not unlikely that virtuous individuals may arise in it, and it might come to contain wise men, orators and poets of all descriptions. It is thus possible that certain segments of this city may be fittingly chosen to form part of the virtuous city, this being the best that this city can produce. This is why this city is, of all unenlightened cities, the one containing most evil and most good at once. The more it grows and prospers, the more populous, fertile and fit for human habitation it becomes, the greater these two qualities of good and evil become. However, the truly virtuous individual, that is to say, the one who, were he to lead them, would ordain their acts and direct them to happiness, is not a person they will appoint as their ruler. 90. Inaugural address by the Umayyad caliph Yazid III, a ‘democratic’ caliph Ibn Hamdun (d. 1166) was an Iraqi literary scholar and government official. When the Umayyad1 caliph Yazid ibn al-Walid ibn ʿAbd al-Malik acceded to the caliphate [in 744], he made a speech to try to win over the people: 44

O people, I promise you that I will not lay one stone upon another, one brick upon another, will not dig a canal or hoard any wealth or give money to wife or children, or transfer money from any region until I satisfy the needs of that region’s population and make them self-sufficient, and if any surplus remains I will transfer this to a nearby region. I promise not to station you indefinitely in regions where you are conducting military operations, in order to avoid mutiny or turning the hearts of your families against you. I promise not to close my door to any of you lest the strong come to oppress the weak, nor remove the taxpayers’ wealth from their place of residence. I promise to pay your pensions regularly each year and your salaries each month so that prosperity can become common among Muslims and the high becomes like the low. If I fulfil these promises, you should hear, obey and offer me your support. If I do not, you are at liberty to depose me provided you first allow me to repent. If I repent, you are to accept my repentance. If you know of anyone who is famous for his virtue and can offer you what I offer you, and you wish to pay him homage, I will be the first to pay him homage and declare obedience to him. O people, no obedience is due to a creature who disobeys the Creator, nor can loyalty be paid to one who violates a covenant. True obedience is obedience to God and his Prophet. A ruler who obeys God must be obeyed through obedience to God – so long as he obeys Him. If he disobeys God and calls for His disobedience, he is worthy to be disobeyed and killed. I say all this and I ask God Almighty to forgive me and you.

1

Umayyads: a Sunni dynasty (661–750), with its capital at Damascus.

ref l e ctions on the state    97 of some dispersed among parts of others, and where the foreigner cannot be distinguished from the native. All cravings and all ways of life are found therein. Accordingly, and with the passage of time, it is not unlikely that virtuous individuals may arise in it, and it might come to contain wise men, orators and poets of all descriptions. It is thus possible that certain segments of this city may be fittingly chosen to form part of the virtuous city, this being the best that this city can produce. This is why this city is, of all unenlightened cities, the one containing most evil and most good at once. The more it grows and prospers, the more populous, fertile and fit for human habitation it becomes, the greater these two qualities of good and evil become. However, the truly virtuous individual, that is to say, the one who, were he to lead them, would ordain their acts and direct them to happiness, is not a person they will appoint as their ruler. 90. Inaugural address by the Umayyad caliph Yazid III, a ‘democratic’ caliph Ibn Hamdun (d. 1166) was an Iraqi literary scholar and government official. When the Umayyad1 caliph Yazid ibn al-Walid ibn ʿAbd al-Malik acceded to the caliphate [in 744], he made a speech to try to win over the people: 44

O people, I promise you that I will not lay one stone upon another, one brick upon another, will not dig a canal or hoard any wealth or give money to wife or children, or transfer money from any region until I satisfy the needs of that region’s population and make them self-sufficient, and if any surplus remains I will transfer this to a nearby region. I promise not to station you indefinitely in regions where you are conducting military operations, in order to avoid mutiny or turning the hearts of your families against you. I promise not to close my door to any of you lest the strong come to oppress the weak, nor remove the taxpayers’ wealth from their place of residence. I promise to pay your pensions regularly each year and your salaries each month so that prosperity can become common among Muslims and the high becomes like the low. If I fulfil these promises, you should hear, obey and offer me your support. If I do not, you are at liberty to depose me provided you first allow me to repent. If I repent, you are to accept my repentance. If you know of anyone who is famous for his virtue and can offer you what I offer you, and you wish to pay him homage, I will be the first to pay him homage and declare obedience to him. O people, no obedience is due to a creature who disobeys the Creator, nor can loyalty be paid to one who violates a covenant. True obedience is obedience to God and his Prophet. A ruler who obeys God must be obeyed through obedience to God – so long as he obeys Him. If he disobeys God and calls for His disobedience, he is worthy to be disobeyed and killed. I say all this and I ask God Almighty to forgive me and you.

1

Umayyads: a Sunni dynasty (661–750), with its capital at Damascus.

98  p a r t i , sectio n ii

Po lemic Arabic preserves a rich literature of polemic between Islam and other religions. 91. Christian Arabic polemics against Islam ʿAbd al-Masih al-Kindi was a Christian writer active around the beginning of the 10th century. Nothing is known of his life. As for your inviting me to go on pilgrimage to the House of God, to cast stones, utter the call of talbiya [‘Here I am, O God!’], and kiss the corner stone of the Kaʿba and the sanctuary of Abraham – what nonsense is this, for God’s sake? What falsehood are you peddling? Do you imagine you are speaking to a child, or addressing an idiot or arguing with one who cannot defend himself? I ask you: is this not the place we all know so well and know how it originated, what story was used to establish it and how it has fared until the present day? Do you not realise that what you call pilgrimage is exactly what the shamans and Brahmins in India perform, and which they call the rite of pilgrimage to their idols? For they perform in their country precisely what the Muslims perform today, namely shaving and going naked, which they too call ihram [ritual consecration], and they circumambulate the temples of their idols right up to the present day and in exactly the same manner as you do. You have added nothing to this rite and subtracted not a whit from it. The only difference is that you perform it once a year, at different times, and they do it twice a year on two well-known occasions, determined by the solar calendar. You and your fellow religionists know full well that the ancient Arabs used to perform these rites and carry out these same acts in ancient times, when they built this house. When that friend of yours [Muhammad] brought the message of Islam we did not see him changing any of these rites nor abrogating any of them, except that he decreed the pilgrimage to be an annual occasion because of the long distances involved and the heavy burdens imposed on pilgrims. He also removed some offensive phrases from the talbiya. But this fraud is precisely the one practised to this day by the shamans and Brahmins in their devotions to their idols. A saying attributed to the caliph ʿUmar ibn al-Khattab [d. 644] when he stood before the corner stone at Abraham’s sanctuary, and one which I find so true, goes as follows: ‘I swear to God I know you are merely two stones that confer neither benefit nor harm, but since I saw the Prophet of God kissing you, I too shall do the same.’ As for the Battle of Uhud [625], where the Prophet’s front tooth was broken, his lip was cut, as were also his cheek and forehead, all of which was inflicted upon him by ʿUtba b. Abi Waqqas, and where Ibn Qamiʾa al-Laythi cut his finger, this is precisely the opposite of what our Lord and Saviour did when a man in his presence drew his sword against another and cut off his ear. When the Messiah saw this he, of his grace, restored his ear, which became as whole as the other. But when Muhammad’s companion, Talha, suffered that wound in his hand as he protected Muhammad with his body, why did Muhammad not call upon God to restore his hand? Had he done so, it would have been a sign of his prophethood. And where were the angels to support and protect him when his tooth was broken, his lip was cut and his face was bloodied? Therefore do not insult your intelligence or be unfair to your power of discrimination by allowing emotion and prejudice to overcome you. As for this Qurʾanic paradise, it will tempt the weak of mind, the ignorant and the uneducated, who have no knowledge of books and the origins of ancient tales. Such were the Arabian Bedouins who fed on lizards and chameleons,

p ol e mic   99 were brought up in utter poverty, misery and a hard life in deserts and valleys, were smitten by the scorching winds of summer and the bitter frosts of winter, and were ever hungry, thirsty and naked. When he [Muhammad] waved before them that vision of the rivers of wine and milk and all kinds of fruits and meat and food, where they recline on beds and couches of silk brocade and copulate with maidens like well-kept pearls, and are served by page boys and girls and surrounded by water poured out from jugs beneath lengthy shades, these were all images drawn from the palaces of Persian kings. So the Bedouins were beside themselves with joy and imagined that they had actually won such a place for themselves. In consequence, they braced themselves to fight the Persians to seize all these things from them. They thus fought a decadent and sinful nation that had grown greatly in pride against God and become tyrannical, so God gave mastery over them to another nation who killed them. This is how God deals with the unjust: He causes some to take revenge upon others. 92. Debates with Jews and Christians Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350) was a Damascene theologian, jurist and polemicist of great skill. In Cairo once, I debated with a Jewish scholar regarded by the Jews as outstanding in his scholarship and primacy. Addressing him, I said: ‘By calling the lie to Muhammad you have thereby insulted God most grievously.’ In astonishment, he replied: ‘A scholar like yourself can say this?’ I said: ‘Let me prove it to you. If you assert that Muhammad was an unjust king who subjected people by the sword and was not a prophet sent by God, and yet he remained for twenty-three years claiming to be God’s prophet sent to the whole of mankind, and proclaiming “God ordered me to do this and that, and forbade me this and that” – all of it being false and worthless – while endeavouring to change the religion of other prophets and abrogating their laws, only two conclusions can follow. You can either say that God observed, witnessed and knew all this, or that the matter was hidden from Him and He knew nothing about it. If you say He knew nothing about it, you would be ascribing the worst sort of ignorance to God, but if you say that all this happened with God’s full knowledge and witness, two conclusions would follow. God could either have been able to change this course of events and prevent Muhammad from proceeding with his ministry, or not. If unable to do so, you would thereby ascribe impotence to God, and void His divinity. If He was able to do so, all the while sustaining, supporting and exalting Muhammad, granting him victory over his enemies and answering his prayers, and granting him wonders and miracles exceeding a thousand in number, this would mean ascribing the worst kind of injustice and foolishness to the Almighty. For how can it be otherwise, when God witnesses and supports him whereas this is regarded by you as false witness?’ The Jewish scholar replied: ‘God forbid that He should do this to a liar. Rather Muhammad is a pure prophet, and whoso follows him prospers.’ I said: ‘Why then do you not embrace his religion?’ He said: ‘Muhammad was sent to unlettered nations who have no scripture. We, however, possess a scripture which we follow.’ I said: ‘You have lost the argument. All people, high and low, know that he announced himself to be a prophet to the whole of mankind. If his message is true, it must be followed.’ He fell silent. As regards Jews and Christians who refused to be converted to Islam, many of them openly

p ol e mic   99 were brought up in utter poverty, misery and a hard life in deserts and valleys, were smitten by the scorching winds of summer and the bitter frosts of winter, and were ever hungry, thirsty and naked. When he [Muhammad] waved before them that vision of the rivers of wine and milk and all kinds of fruits and meat and food, where they recline on beds and couches of silk brocade and copulate with maidens like well-kept pearls, and are served by page boys and girls and surrounded by water poured out from jugs beneath lengthy shades, these were all images drawn from the palaces of Persian kings. So the Bedouins were beside themselves with joy and imagined that they had actually won such a place for themselves. In consequence, they braced themselves to fight the Persians to seize all these things from them. They thus fought a decadent and sinful nation that had grown greatly in pride against God and become tyrannical, so God gave mastery over them to another nation who killed them. This is how God deals with the unjust: He causes some to take revenge upon others. 92. Debates with Jews and Christians Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 1350) was a Damascene theologian, jurist and polemicist of great skill. In Cairo once, I debated with a Jewish scholar regarded by the Jews as outstanding in his scholarship and primacy. Addressing him, I said: ‘By calling the lie to Muhammad you have thereby insulted God most grievously.’ In astonishment, he replied: ‘A scholar like yourself can say this?’ I said: ‘Let me prove it to you. If you assert that Muhammad was an unjust king who subjected people by the sword and was not a prophet sent by God, and yet he remained for twenty-three years claiming to be God’s prophet sent to the whole of mankind, and proclaiming “God ordered me to do this and that, and forbade me this and that” – all of it being false and worthless – while endeavouring to change the religion of other prophets and abrogating their laws, only two conclusions can follow. You can either say that God observed, witnessed and knew all this, or that the matter was hidden from Him and He knew nothing about it. If you say He knew nothing about it, you would be ascribing the worst sort of ignorance to God, but if you say that all this happened with God’s full knowledge and witness, two conclusions would follow. God could either have been able to change this course of events and prevent Muhammad from proceeding with his ministry, or not. If unable to do so, you would thereby ascribe impotence to God, and void His divinity. If He was able to do so, all the while sustaining, supporting and exalting Muhammad, granting him victory over his enemies and answering his prayers, and granting him wonders and miracles exceeding a thousand in number, this would mean ascribing the worst kind of injustice and foolishness to the Almighty. For how can it be otherwise, when God witnesses and supports him whereas this is regarded by you as false witness?’ The Jewish scholar replied: ‘God forbid that He should do this to a liar. Rather Muhammad is a pure prophet, and whoso follows him prospers.’ I said: ‘Why then do you not embrace his religion?’ He said: ‘Muhammad was sent to unlettered nations who have no scripture. We, however, possess a scripture which we follow.’ I said: ‘You have lost the argument. All people, high and low, know that he announced himself to be a prophet to the whole of mankind. If his message is true, it must be followed.’ He fell silent. As regards Jews and Christians who refused to be converted to Islam, many of them openly

100  p a r t i , sectio n ii confessed their reasons for not doing so both to their intimates and to their public. Their argument ran as follows: ‘Our own communities have held us in high esteem, appointed us as their leaders and financed us. If we were to follow Muhammad they would divest us of all these privileges.’ This is something that we have seen in our own days, indeed witnessed directly. I once debated with a Christian scholar in public for the better part of a day. When the truth was finally apparent to him, he fell silent. When he and I were alone together I said to him: ‘What prevents you now from following the truth?’ He answered: ‘Whenever I come to visit these donkeys’ – this was the very word he used – ‘they spread out fine garments for me beneath the hooves of my mount, make me a judge of their wealth and their womenfolk, and do not disobey any of my orders. I on the other hand do not know any craft, and know nothing of the Qurʾan, the Hadith or grammar. If I were to embrace Islam, I would go about the markets begging. Who would be happy with such an outcome?’ I said: ‘This would not happen. What kind of opinion can you have of God if you believe that, once having preferred God’s good pleasure over your own caprice, He would then let you down, humiliate you and turn you into a pauper? But let us assume that this would in fact happen to you. What you will have gained by embracing the truth and being saved from hellfire and from the anger and displeasure of God surely more than compensates for what you will have lost.’ He said: ‘Until God permits.’ I said: ‘But fate is not an argument. If fate had been an argument, it would have been an  argument for Jews who deny Christ and for idol worshippers who deny prophecy. This  is  especially so because you people do not believe in fate, so how can you use it in argument?’ He said: ‘Let us change the subject’ and fell silent.

je sus   101

J esus 93. Passages on Jesus in the Qurʾan Commentary (Tafsir) of Tabari Tabari (d. 923) of Baghdad was one of the most celebrated historians, Qurʾan commentators and jurists of early Islam. (i) Jesus’ birth [Q. 19:23] {So she conceived him and withdrew with him to a distant place. And labour pains came upon her by the trunk of a palm tree.} When Mary conceived, she had with her a relative called Yusuf the carpenter. They had set off to the temple on Mount Zion, in those days one of the grandest of their temples. Mary and Yusuf served the temple at that time, its service being considered a great act of piety. They took this upon themselves, embellishing, sweeping and cleansing it; in short, performing all its required tasks. No one in their days worked harder or more piously than they did. The first to censure her pregnancy was her companion Yusuf, who, when he saw her, found it to be a most reprehensible state. But Yusuf was perplexed. Whenever he was about to accuse her he remembered her piety and innocence and the fact that she had not been out of his sight for a single instant. But if he wished to consider her innocent, he only had to look at her. When he could no longer restrain himself he addressed her as follows: ‘Some thoughts I harbour about you have made me fearful, so I have repressed them, but I cannot do so any longer and I must give vent to my fears.’ She answered: ‘Speak with kindness.’ He said: ‘Tell me, can there be plant without seed?’ She answered: ‘Yes.’ ‘Can a tree grow without rain?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Can there be a child without a male parent?’ ‘Yes,’ she answered, adding: ‘Do you not see how Almighty God created plants when first He created them without seeds? The seeds were then brought forth from the plant that God created without them. Do you not know that God in His power made trees to grow without rain and that through His power He made rain to be life-giving to a tree after having created each thing on its own? Or are you saying that God could not make a tree to grow until He sought the aid of rain, and that otherwise He could not bring it forth?’ Yusuf answered: ‘No, I do not say this, and I know that God has power over all things, saying to anything “Be!” and it is.’ Mary continued: ‘Do you not know that God created Adam and his wife from other than a female or a male?’ He said: ‘Yes.’ When she said this, he realised that what she was carrying came from God, and that he must not ask her about it, for she herself did not wish to reveal it. Yusuf then undertook to serve the temple by himself and spare her from her labours when he saw her frail body, her pale skin, her freckled face, her protruding belly, how weak she was and how steady her glance. She had never been like this before. When her time to deliver drew near, God revealed to her: ‘Depart from the land of your people for if they catch you they will revile you and kill your infant.’ She confided this to her sister, who was then pregnant, and had been given glad tidings of the birth of Yahya [John]. When they met, Yahya’s mother found what was inside her belly falling prostrate in homage to Jesus. [Tafsir, 16: 49–50]

102  p a r t i , sectio n ii (ii) Jesus speaks in his cradle [Q. 19: 30] {He [Jesus] said: I am the servant of God. He brought me the Book and made me a prophet, and made me blessed wherever I may be. He charged me with prayer and alms-giving as long as I live.} The word ‘alms-giving’ (zakat) has two meanings. The first refers to the alms tax on wealth that one must pay, while the second refers to cleansing the body from the filth of sins. The verse here clearly means that God charged Jesus with abandoning sin and avoiding vice. This shows that the word zakat here means cleansing the body from sin because Jesus, upon whom the blessings and peace of God, is said never to have hoarded anything for the morrow and was therefore not liable to pay the alms tax. [Tafsir, 16: 61] (iii) The livelihood of Jesus [Q. 23: 51] {O Messengers, eat what is licit and wholesome, and perform righteous deeds.} It is said that Jesus son of Mary used to live on the income of his mother’s weaving. [Tafsir, 18: 22] (iv) The crucifixion of Jesus [Q. 4: 157] {And their saying ‘It is we who killed the Christ Jesus son of Mary, the Messenger of God’ – they killed him not, nor did they crucify him, but so it was made to appear to them} Exegetes have differed regarding the way in which that event ‘was made to appear to them.’ Some say that when the Jews surrounded Jesus and his disciples, they did so without having an idea of what Jesus looked like, and that is because all of them were miraculously turned into the likeness of Jesus, so those who wanted to kill him were confused as to which one was the real Jesus. When someone who had been in the house with Jesus came out they killed him, thinking it was Jesus. They explain that when Jesus and seventeen of his disciples were in a house, the house was surrounded. When they entered the house God made them all look like Jesus. The Jews said: ‘You have bewitched us. Surrender Jesus or we will kill you all.’ Jesus said to the disciples: ‘Who among you is willing to sacrifice himself today for the reward of paradise?’ One of them said: ‘I am.’ The man then went out to them and said: ‘I am Jesus,’ God having transformed him into the likeness of Jesus. So they took him, killed him and crucified him, thinking they had killed Jesus. The Christians also thought it was Jesus. But God made Jesus to ascend to heaven that very day. Other exegetes say that Jesus asked those who were with him in the house if he could transfer his likeness to one of them, and a man among them was chosen for this, so Jesus gave him his likeness, and that man was later killed. The man was called Sergius. I believe that the more correct interpretation is that the likeness of Jesus was cast upon all who were in the house with him, when they were surrounded, and that Jesus did not ask one or more of them to come forward to be given his likeness. I argue thus because those disciples who had known Jesus, had they been there when Jesus was elevated to heaven and cast his likeness upon a particular person, and had they observed that man’s transformation as they looked on, the transformation itself could not have been hidden from them had it taken place in their presence. [Tafsir, 6: 9–12]

je sus   103 (v) The death and ascension of Jesus [Q. 3: 55] {Remember when God said: ‘O Jesus, I shall cause you to die and make you ascend to Me, and I shall purify you from those who blasphemed} Exegetes differ as to the meaning of causing Jesus to die, as mentioned in this verse. Some say that this is the death of slumber and interpret the words to mean ‘I shall cause you to sleep and raise you up to me in your sleep’. Others say that this verse means ‘I shall receive you, removing you from the earth and raising you to Me’. They argue that death [wafat] here means receiving in full, just as one says ‘I have received [tawaffaytu] my money from so-andso’ meaning I have received my money in full. Thus, they argue that the verse means ‘I have received you and will raise you to Me’, that is to say ‘I will remove you from earth and raise you to My side, alive, and take you up to heaven without causing you to die’. Other exegetes say that the word mutawaffika in this verse means ‘I shall cause you to die’, and some authorities claim that God caused Jesus to die for three hours and then made him ascend to heaven. The Christians say that God caused him to die for seven hours of the day then He raised him from the dead. Still other exegetes argue that the verse should be read in the following order: ‘O Jesus, I shall make you ascend to me, I shall purify you from those who blasphemed and I shall cause you to die’, that is to say, when God sends him down once more to earth, and that this is simply a case of substitution whereby what comes later is put first. I argue that the most credible interpretation is the one that maintains that the verse means ‘I shall receive you from the earth and raise you up to Me’ because this is supported by numerous traditions of the Prophet which assert that Jesus will descend to earth, kill the Anti-Christ [Dajjal], remain on earth for a period whose length is disputed, then die and be buried by the Muslims. It is obvious that if God caused him to die once, He would not cause him to die a second time and so bring upon him two deaths. For God tells His creatures in the Qurʾan that He creates them, causes them to die, then resurrects them. Accordingly, this verse means ‘I shall receive you from the earth, raise you up to Me, and purify you from those who blasphemed and denied your prophethood’. [Tafsir, 3: 202–4]

104  p a r t i , sectio n ii

W isd o m lite r at ur e 94. A famous scholar describes how he spends his days Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr (d. 1070) was an Andalusian jurist and man of letters. The celebrated scholar al-Khalil ibn Ahmad [d. circa 791] said: ‘My days are spent in one of four ways. There is one day when I go out and meet someone more learned than me and I learn something from him. This is my day of benefit and profit. A second day is when I go out and meet someone who is less learned than me. This is my day of reward and recompense. A third day is when I go out and meet someone of equal attainments to mine and I discuss scholarly matters with him. This is my day of study. A fourth day is when I go out and meet someone who is less learned but thinks he is more learned than me. I do not speak to him and make it my day of rest.’ 95. Sayings of the Prophet Muhammad • Test people by finding out whom they befriend. • He who has no manners has no reason. • The person standing must be the first to greet a seated person; the mounted person must be the first to greet the walking; the younger must be the first to greet the older; the one descending must be the first to greet the one ascending [reassurance is intended]. • Both friendship and enmity are inherited. • Do not let the smallness of a favour stop you from doing it. • Make your visits infrequent and affection for you will increase. • God hates a sixty-year-old masquerading as a twenty-year-old. • Travel and you will gain wealth; if you do not gain wealth, you will at least improve your mind. • Do not show pleasure at a brother’s misfortune. Perhaps God will relieve him and inflict the misfortune upon you. • Show respect to those from whom you learn and to those whom you teach. • If you love your brother, let him know that you love him. • The angel Gabriel asked me so insistently to be kind to neighbours that I thought he would decree that a neighbour is to be counted as a legal heir. • The true lord of a people is their servant. • Modesty is a component of faith. • A cloak which drags behind is bound for hellfire. • Take wisdom even from the tongues of polytheists. • A person is a scholar so long as he seeks knowledge. If he thinks he has attained knowledge, he is in fact ignorant. • Have pity on three kinds of people: a noble man fallen on evil days, a rich man who has become impoverished and a scholar living among ignorant people. • Knowledge is a cupboard whose key is a question. • The best of gifts is the one offered by one poor person to another. • What is scarce but sufficient is better than what is plentiful but distracting. • Poverty could almost be the equivalent of [or ‘be regarded as terrible as’; or ‘turn into’] unbelief.

104  p a r t i , sectio n ii

W isd o m lite r at ur e 94. A famous scholar describes how he spends his days Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr (d. 1070) was an Andalusian jurist and man of letters. The celebrated scholar al-Khalil ibn Ahmad [d. circa 791] said: ‘My days are spent in one of four ways. There is one day when I go out and meet someone more learned than me and I learn something from him. This is my day of benefit and profit. A second day is when I go out and meet someone who is less learned than me. This is my day of reward and recompense. A third day is when I go out and meet someone of equal attainments to mine and I discuss scholarly matters with him. This is my day of study. A fourth day is when I go out and meet someone who is less learned but thinks he is more learned than me. I do not speak to him and make it my day of rest.’ 95. Sayings of the Prophet Muhammad • Test people by finding out whom they befriend. • He who has no manners has no reason. • The person standing must be the first to greet a seated person; the mounted person must be the first to greet the walking; the younger must be the first to greet the older; the one descending must be the first to greet the one ascending [reassurance is intended]. • Both friendship and enmity are inherited. • Do not let the smallness of a favour stop you from doing it. • Make your visits infrequent and affection for you will increase. • God hates a sixty-year-old masquerading as a twenty-year-old. • Travel and you will gain wealth; if you do not gain wealth, you will at least improve your mind. • Do not show pleasure at a brother’s misfortune. Perhaps God will relieve him and inflict the misfortune upon you. • Show respect to those from whom you learn and to those whom you teach. • If you love your brother, let him know that you love him. • The angel Gabriel asked me so insistently to be kind to neighbours that I thought he would decree that a neighbour is to be counted as a legal heir. • The true lord of a people is their servant. • Modesty is a component of faith. • A cloak which drags behind is bound for hellfire. • Take wisdom even from the tongues of polytheists. • A person is a scholar so long as he seeks knowledge. If he thinks he has attained knowledge, he is in fact ignorant. • Have pity on three kinds of people: a noble man fallen on evil days, a rich man who has become impoverished and a scholar living among ignorant people. • Knowledge is a cupboard whose key is a question. • The best of gifts is the one offered by one poor person to another. • What is scarce but sufficient is better than what is plentiful but distracting. • Poverty could almost be the equivalent of [or ‘be regarded as terrible as’; or ‘turn into’] unbelief.

wisdom l ite rature    105 • War is trickery. • Had you known each other’s secret thoughts, you would not have attended each other’s funerals. • Debt demeans the noble. • A man of faith is not stung twice from the same hole in the ground. • Envy consumes good deeds as fire consumes wood. • Souls are like massed troops. Those who recognise their like become allies. Those who do not, do battle. • He who conquers his whims is truly powerful. • Intimate conversations presuppose confidentiality. • Your worst enemy is yourself. • People more closely resemble their own times than they do their ancestors. 96. Sayings of ʿAli ibn Abi Talib145 • Beware of one who praises you for what is not in you, for he will soon slander you for what is not in you. • Miserliness, cowardice and covetousness all go back to the same source: lack of trust in God. • Beware of this world. It is the enemy of God’s friends and the enemy of His enemies. It saddens His friends and seduces His enemies. • Everything grows in esteem when scarce except scholarship, which grows in esteem when plentiful. • When a person is asked for a favour, he is free until he promises. • The slanderer is unjust to the person slandered, and a traitor to the person to whom he transmits his slander. • Do not fear injustice from God; fear it from one other. • Sins are like wild horses, ridden by people without bridles. These horses then plunge them into hellfire. Piety is like tamed horses, lightly ridden, with riders holding the bridles. Paradise then opens its gates to them. • What a distance there is between an act whose toil is forgotten but whose reward is lasting, and an act whose pleasure is forgotten but whose consequences remain. • The truth is not known by him who said it, but know the truth and you will know who said it. • He who is pleased with himself invites greater displeasure from people. • The world is a burden to the wise person, but the fool carries it lightly. • Man’s tongue is a sword brandished upon himself. • Modesty is the ladder to nobility. • The heart, if made to hate, turns blind. • The envious can never find rest. • Whoso spends much time in weighing consequences will not grow in courage. • Hidden intentions are revealed by slips of the tongue or facial expressions. • The worth of a human being resides in what he does best.

1

ʿAli ibn Abi Talib (d. 661): fourth of the ‘Rightly Guided’ caliphs and object of Shiʿi devotion.

wisdom l ite rature    105 • War is trickery. • Had you known each other’s secret thoughts, you would not have attended each other’s funerals. • Debt demeans the noble. • A man of faith is not stung twice from the same hole in the ground. • Envy consumes good deeds as fire consumes wood. • Souls are like massed troops. Those who recognise their like become allies. Those who do not, do battle. • He who conquers his whims is truly powerful. • Intimate conversations presuppose confidentiality. • Your worst enemy is yourself. • People more closely resemble their own times than they do their ancestors. 96. Sayings of ʿAli ibn Abi Talib145 • Beware of one who praises you for what is not in you, for he will soon slander you for what is not in you. • Miserliness, cowardice and covetousness all go back to the same source: lack of trust in God. • Beware of this world. It is the enemy of God’s friends and the enemy of His enemies. It saddens His friends and seduces His enemies. • Everything grows in esteem when scarce except scholarship, which grows in esteem when plentiful. • When a person is asked for a favour, he is free until he promises. • The slanderer is unjust to the person slandered, and a traitor to the person to whom he transmits his slander. • Do not fear injustice from God; fear it from one other. • Sins are like wild horses, ridden by people without bridles. These horses then plunge them into hellfire. Piety is like tamed horses, lightly ridden, with riders holding the bridles. Paradise then opens its gates to them. • What a distance there is between an act whose toil is forgotten but whose reward is lasting, and an act whose pleasure is forgotten but whose consequences remain. • The truth is not known by him who said it, but know the truth and you will know who said it. • He who is pleased with himself invites greater displeasure from people. • The world is a burden to the wise person, but the fool carries it lightly. • Man’s tongue is a sword brandished upon himself. • Modesty is the ladder to nobility. • The heart, if made to hate, turns blind. • The envious can never find rest. • Whoso spends much time in weighing consequences will not grow in courage. • Hidden intentions are revealed by slips of the tongue or facial expressions. • The worth of a human being resides in what he does best.

1

ʿAli ibn Abi Talib (d. 661): fourth of the ‘Rightly Guided’ caliphs and object of Shiʿi devotion.

106  p a r t i , sectio n i 97. Sundry wisdom sayings • Do not keep the company of fools. More will stick to you of foolishness than will stick to you of wisdom in a lifetime of keeping the company of rational men. This is because foolishness adheres more closely to human nature than wisdom. [Jahiz (d. 869)] • Someone was asked: ‘Define cunning’. He answered: ‘Killing the enemy gently.’ • If you are a liar, make sure you have a good memory. • He who is provoked to anger but does not get angry is an ass. He who is asked to forgive anger but does not forgive it is a tyrant. [Al-Shafiʿi (d. 820), great jurist] • Poverty in one’s homeland is an exile / wealth in exile is a homeland. [Al-Mubarrad (d. 898), celebrated grammarian, in a line of verse] • Today’s virtue is yesterday’s vice and today’s vice is the virtue of days to come. [Abu al-Dardaʾ (d. 652), companion of Muhammad] • In the heart of a believer, this world and the next are like the two scales of a balance: when one scale sinks the other rises. • If you wish to see how people will behave after you die, just look at how they behave towards those who die before you. • A father’s friend is a child’s uncle. • I continued to drag my soul towards God while it cried until I dragged it to Him laughing. [The celebrated Sufi al-Bistami (d. 875)] • A man was asked: ‘Which of your children is the dearest to your heart?’ He answered: ‘The young until they grow up, the sick until they recover and the absent until they return.’ • A single opinion is like a thin thread; two opinions are like twined threads; three opinions are like a strong rope. [The caliph ʿUmar I (d. 644)] • I read in an Indian book of wisdom: there is no trait of character applied to a rich man by way of praise which is not also found blameworthy when applied to a poor man. If the poor man is courageous, he is called reckless; if dignified, he is called tiresome; if eloquent, he is called garrulous; if staid, he is called incoherent. • If you want to know how a person made his money, look at how he spends it. Ill-gained wealth is lavishly spent. [Al-Hasan al-Basri (d. 728), the famous ascetic] • When struck by drought, desert dwellers will all be reduced to the same level. But no sooner does prosperity return than wealth reverts to the wealthy. • If a person is appointed to a position of authority, and he regards it as greater than himself, that position will change his character. If he sees it as lesser than himself, he will not change. • I have yet to meet an arrogant person whose arrogance did not infect me. • I do not come between people and their tongues so long as they do not come between me and my sovereignty. I do not use my sword where my whip is sufficient, nor my whip where my tongue is sufficient. If only a hair binds me to people, I would not cut it: when they pull it, I let go, and when they let go, I pull it. [The caliph Muʿawiya (d. 680), founder of the Umayyad empire (661–750), after being cursed and doing nothing] • A house should be the first thing you buy and the last thing you sell. • If people were forbidden to crumble dung they would still do it and say ‘There must be some reason why we were forbidden to do so’. • Ties of kinship may be severed, and favours done may be repudiated, but there is nothing like hearts drawn close to one another. • In warding off a possible harm, greater harm might ensue.

wisdom l ite rature    107 • If a person falls ill, then recovers, and thereafter does not do good or desist from evil, the angels tell one another: ‘We treated him but the medicine did not work.’ • The more a guilty person apologises the more his guilt increases. • One thing I have come to know with absolute certainty. I have yet to meet a person who is arrogant towards those who are below him who is not also, and to the very same extent, obsequious to those above him.

section i

Poetry

P o litica l pr ot e s t 98. Three popular political songs Ahmad Fuʾad Najm (d. 2013) was an Egyptian poet and satirical songwriter with a large following throughout the Arab world. The dates of each song are in brackets. (i) The mawwal1 of ful 2 and meat (1974) 46

On the subject of ful and meat, A responsible source declared, An official said: Medicine has progressed greatly And Dr Muhsin3 states That the Egyptian people in particular Are well advised to nibble on ful, Since Egyptian ful in general Turns a human into a ghoul. For the protein it contains, One helping of ful is like a leg of meat. And of course Dr Muhsin is an official. It gives you energy and marvellous strength, You grow fat, You become fearsome. It’s vegetarian meat, No need for a shawarma4 stand: You eat a bowl, you live in a daze.

1 Mawwal: a song in colloquial Arabic. 2 Ful: beans. 3 Dr Muhsin: Egyptian Minister of Health. 4 Shawarma: meat on a spit.

section i

Poetry

P o litica l pr ot e s t 98. Three popular political songs Ahmad Fuʾad Najm (d. 2013) was an Egyptian poet and satirical songwriter with a large following throughout the Arab world. The dates of each song are in brackets. (i) The mawwal1 of ful 2 and meat (1974) 46

On the subject of ful and meat, A responsible source declared, An official said: Medicine has progressed greatly And Dr Muhsin3 states That the Egyptian people in particular Are well advised to nibble on ful, Since Egyptian ful in general Turns a human into a ghoul. For the protein it contains, One helping of ful is like a leg of meat. And of course Dr Muhsin is an official. It gives you energy and marvellous strength, You grow fat, You become fearsome. It’s vegetarian meat, No need for a shawarma4 stand: You eat a bowl, you live in a daze.

1 Mawwal: a song in colloquial Arabic. 2 Ful: beans. 3 Dr Muhsin: Egyptian Minister of Health. 4 Shawarma: meat on a spit.

112  p a r t i i, section i Then Dr Muhsin added That meat is pure poison. It increases stomach-aches, It turns you into a thief, It makes people sleep more, It makes man forget his appointments. And those who regularly eat meat They will surely enter hell. Dr Muhsin, you roly-poly, And you source, irresponsible: Since you are such world-renowned intellects And the world needs its intellects, What is Your Excellency’s and Their Excellencies’ opinion? There’s a madman here who says ‘Leave us to die from eating meat While you live on and eat ful.’ What do you think, Captain Muhsin? Quite honestly, doesn’t this make sense? (ii) D’Estaing (1975) Valéry Giscard d’Estaing147 And his missus too: He’ll drag the bear by its tail And feed all the hungry. What a sight, all you thugs, Is the sight of a gentleman! Our life will become heavenly, The TV will become coloured, Societies will be formed, And cars will be filled, Instead of petrol, With perfume! And a great renaissance will occur And we will become respectable In theatres or in cinemas . . . Or in a zoo! And all things will be like a sugared doughnut, No need for Syria or Libya, And we’ll forge a unity of Arabie With London and the Vatican. The poor will eat potatoes And strut around.

1

The French President was on an official visit to Egypt.

p ol itical p rote st   113 And instead of calling their child Shalata1 They will call him Jean. And all of this thanks To my romantic friend d’Estaing. And none will share my room In the building where I live. (iii) Mickey2 (1969) Frankly,3 Mr Mickey, You are a reactionary and a sceptic. Sorry, but there you sit and blither, Romantiki talk. Nor do you intend to stop writing What is, frankly, politiki rubbish About the role of a peaceful solution448 And its taktiki use, When, frankly, we are Dazed like the Beljiki.5 Our land is still wounded And cries out in Afriki: ‘My children, if revenge is allowed to lapse Humiliation will be my lot.’ The people say: ‘My country, I lay my life and blood for you.’ And, frankly, Uncle Mickey, Things are happening in our country, While you, frankly, are not with me Nor are you looking out from my window. It is as though you were a mummy, Of the Sultan Antiki, Revived for use By imperialist Ameriki, Which then resurrected in the form of . . . Mickey. 99. Two poems Muhammad al-Maghut (d. 2006) was a dissident Syrian poet, playwright and satirist, and a leading figure in the free verse movement.

1 Shalata: an Egyptian urchin’s name. 2 Mickey: Muhammad Hasanain Haikal, a prominent columnist. 3 Frankly: title of Haikal’s regular newspaper column. 4 ‘Peaceful solution’: the Egypt–Israel peace talks following the 1967 war. 5 Beljiki: Belgian, used, I think, only for rhyming.

p ol itical p rote st   113 And instead of calling their child Shalata1 They will call him Jean. And all of this thanks To my romantic friend d’Estaing. And none will share my room In the building where I live. (iii) Mickey2 (1969) Frankly,3 Mr Mickey, You are a reactionary and a sceptic. Sorry, but there you sit and blither, Romantiki talk. Nor do you intend to stop writing What is, frankly, politiki rubbish About the role of a peaceful solution448 And its taktiki use, When, frankly, we are Dazed like the Beljiki.5 Our land is still wounded And cries out in Afriki: ‘My children, if revenge is allowed to lapse Humiliation will be my lot.’ The people say: ‘My country, I lay my life and blood for you.’ And, frankly, Uncle Mickey, Things are happening in our country, While you, frankly, are not with me Nor are you looking out from my window. It is as though you were a mummy, Of the Sultan Antiki, Revived for use By imperialist Ameriki, Which then resurrected in the form of . . . Mickey. 99. Two poems Muhammad al-Maghut (d. 2006) was a dissident Syrian poet, playwright and satirist, and a leading figure in the free verse movement.

1 Shalata: an Egyptian urchin’s name. 2 Mickey: Muhammad Hasanain Haikal, a prominent columnist. 3 Frankly: title of Haikal’s regular newspaper column. 4 ‘Peaceful solution’: the Egypt–Israel peace talks following the 1967 war. 5 Beljiki: Belgian, used, I think, only for rhyming.

114  p a r t i i, section i (i) A frightened postman You prisoners, wherever you may be, Send me all you have Of terror, moaning and boredom. You fishermen, on every beach, Send me all you have Of empty nets and seasickness. You peasants, in every land, Send me all you have Of flowers and tattered clothes, All you have of torn female breasts And bellies ripped open, And fingernails pulled out, To my address, at any café, In any street in this world. I am preparing a ‘hefty file’149 About human suffering To submit to God, Once the file is signed by the lips of the hungry, And the eyelashes of those who wait. But O you wretched people, wherever you may be, What I fear most Is that God may be illiterate. (ii) Fear My mother, You with breasts coloured like African huts, Come quickly to help me. Come and hide me in your deep rustic pocket, With your needles, threads and buttons. Death surrounds me on all sides, The sky grows dark, The wind is whistling, And black dogs Bite bloodied books in satchels of passers-by. I fear, in these days of gloom, That I may wake up one morning, To find no bird on a tree, No flower in a girl’s braid, No friend in a café; That I might be tied up one morning To the washbasin or the stovepipe,

1

‘Hefty file’: allusion to police files.

p ol itical p rote st   115 To be riddled with bullets, With the curry comb in my mouth. I beg you, mother, to make haste, And while on your way, To pass by the harvesters and Bedouin encampments, And ask them about a leather ‘amulet’, A ‘herb’ of some kind, To protect me from this fear. I enter the toilet with my identity papers in my hand, I leave the café, looking right and left: Even the tiny bud Looks left and right before it blossoms. O mother! If only Hitler had remained a painter, If only Marx had died asphyxiated in his baby crib, If only Louis the Sixteenth Had been more manly, more brutal, And Marie Antoinette less seductive, less arrogant! If only the turrets of the Bastille were on Qasiyun’s1 heights, And the mud of Paris on the pavements of Damascus! If only the east were chaff, And the wind more powerful and clever When Rome burnt down! O mother! If liberty were snow I would sleep all life long without shelter. 50

1

Qasiyun: mountain above Damascus.

116  p a r t i i, section i

Heretics 100. A poet’s heretical credo Maʿruf al-Rusafi (d. 1945) was an Iraqi essayist, poet and political activist, and author of a scathing biography of the Prophet Muhammad. I cherish my frankness, in word and deed, And hate any nod to hypocrisy. I have never pretended to anyone, Nor ever affected to sip when I really desired to gulp. I am not one who finds any good In keeping truth hidden, Nor one who thinks religions were established Through inspiration, or revealed to prophets. Rather, they are all contrived, fabricated By wise and wily humans. Nor am I one of those, deluded, who claim That the soul ascends to heaven, For the earth swims in space, And heaven is nothing but space. Nor am I one who finds cause for boasting When someone boasts of shedding blood. Nor am I one tied to the past, Constantly looking backwards. Nor am I one who thinks mankind can judge, Save only judges, steeped in the law. Nor am I one who shows affection in someone’s presence, But declares his enmity when that person departs. Nor am I one who believes that a high pedigree Entitles mankind to nobility. Nor am I one who, when falling sick, calls for help By murmuring prayers against disease. Nor am I one who prays and fasts, Because of the good reward he was promised. Nor am I one who thinks God will reward Those who pray with pure maidens. Nor am I one who believes that things shall vanish And thus are created out of nothing. Rather they are constantly coming together and separating, Changing into other forms of being. Nor am I one who finds men Are truly superior to women. Rather the passage of days has made some More lowly than others.

je sus   117

J esus 101. Christ after the Crucifixion Badr Shakir al-Sayyab (d. 1964) was an Iraqi poet and communist, arguably the most gifted Arab poet of the twentieth century. After they brought me down, I heard the winds In a lengthy wail, rustling the palm trees, And steps fading away. So then, my wounds, And the cross upon which they nailed me all afternoon and evening, Did not kill me. I listened. The wail Was crossing the plain between me and the city Like a rope pulling at a ship As it sinks to the seabed. The dirge Was like a thread of light between dawn and midnight, Upon a grieving winter sky. And the city, nursing its feelings, fell asleep. When the mulberry and the orange are in bloom, When Jaykur1 expands to furthest reaches of fancy, When it turns green with plants, Their fragrance singing, And the suns which breastfed its splendour; When even its night turns green: Warmth touches my heart, And my blood flows in its earth. My heart is the sun, pulsating with light, My heart is the earth, throbbing with wheat, flowers and flowing water; My heart is the water, my heart is the blade of wheat; Its death is its resurrection: it lives on what it eats. In the dough when it is made round And rolled like a tiny breast, the breast of shyness, I died in the fire, I burnt the darkness of my clay, But the god remained. 51

I was in the beginning, and in the beginning was Poverty. I died that bread may be eaten in my name, that they plant me in season. How many lives will I live! For in every furrow of earth, I have become a future, I have become a seed, I have become a race of men, in every human heart A drop of my blood, or a little drop.

1

Jaykur: the poet’s home village.

118  p a r t i i, section i And so I came back. But when Judas saw me He yellowed. For I was keeper of his secrets. He was a shadow of me that darkened, He was a statue of an idea In which the spirit was frozen and then extracted. He was afraid the spirit would betray the death In the water of his eyes. (His eyes a rock Into which he entered, trying to hide his tomb from people.) He was afraid of its warmth, afraid of its impossibility, So he betrayed it. ‘Is it you? Or is that my shadow grown white and scattering light? Do you come back from the world of death? But death comes once. This is what our fathers say, thus they taught us. Was it a lie?’ This is what he thought, when he saw me; his glance said it. Feet running, footsteps, footsteps. My tomb all but collapsing from the tread of footsteps. Have they come? Who else?! Footstep, footstep. Footstep. I placed the rock upon my chest Or did they not crucify me yesterday? But here I am In my tomb. Let them come: I am in my tomb. Who knows that I . . .? Who knows?! And the friends of Judas? Who will believe what they claim? Footstep, footstep. Here I am, naked, in my darkened tomb. Yesterday I was wrapped Like a bundle of reeds, a blossom Under the shroud of snow. The redness of blood is moist. I was like the shadows between darkness and day. Then I burst forth in treasures And denuded them like fruit. When I sewed from my pocket a swaddle, From my sleeve a dress, When I one day warmed with my flesh The bones of children, When I tore open my wound and dressed another’s wound, The wall between me and God collapsed.

je sus   119 The soldiers surprised even my wounds, my heartbeats. They surprised all that was not dead, even in its tomb. They took me by surprise As a palm tree in fruit Is surprised by a hungry troop of birds In some abandoned village. The muzzles of guns Swallow my path, Bayonets fixed, the fire in them Dreaming of crucifying me. If these are made of iron and fire, The pupils of my people’s eyes Are made from the lights of the heavens, From memories and love. They carry my burden, and my cross grows moist. How small was that death, my death – and how vast! After they nailed me and I cast my eyes towards the city I hardly recognised the plain, the wall, the cemetery. As far as the eye could see, it was something Like a forest in bloom. Wherever the vision could reach, there was a cross, a grieving mother. The Lord be sanctified! This is the city about to give birth.

120  p a r t i i, section i

Eleg ies 102. Elegy for a woman (Scenes from a Baghdad alley) Nazik al-Malaʾika (d. 2007) was an Iraqi poet, scholar and literary critic, and a pioneer of free verse in Arabic. Her poetry displays affinities with English Romanticism. She passed away but no cheek grew pale, No lips trembled, No doors heard the story of her death, Repeated over and over again. No window curtain was raised, Flowing with grief and longing, To stare after the coffin till out of sight. Just the remains of a skeleton Shivering when mentioned; Just a piece of news, stumbling through the alleys, that found no haven for its echo. In some hole, it crept into forgetfulness With only the moon to mourn its sorrow. And night surrendered to morning, uncaring, And daylight came with the sound of the milkmaid And the mewing of a hungry cat, skin and bones; With the arguments among merchants, With bitterness and struggle, With boys flinging stones at one another In the middle of the street, With filthy water flowing through alleyways, With the winds playing with roof doors, friendless, In almost deep forgetfulness. 103. It’s time this heart withdrew Ahlam Mistghanmi (b. 1953) is an Algerian novelist and poet who lives in Beirut. Her poetry often has a distinct narrative content. We’d made an appointment In a neighbourhood unfamiliar to us. And for the first time We sat across from one another at a square-shaped table. We glanced at the menu: one look at the main dishes Another at the drinks, But without exchanging glances. Instead of tea, we ordered a little forgetfulness And, as a main dish, a lot of lies.

120  p a r t i i, section i

Eleg ies 102. Elegy for a woman (Scenes from a Baghdad alley) Nazik al-Malaʾika (d. 2007) was an Iraqi poet, scholar and literary critic, and a pioneer of free verse in Arabic. Her poetry displays affinities with English Romanticism. She passed away but no cheek grew pale, No lips trembled, No doors heard the story of her death, Repeated over and over again. No window curtain was raised, Flowing with grief and longing, To stare after the coffin till out of sight. Just the remains of a skeleton Shivering when mentioned; Just a piece of news, stumbling through the alleys, that found no haven for its echo. In some hole, it crept into forgetfulness With only the moon to mourn its sorrow. And night surrendered to morning, uncaring, And daylight came with the sound of the milkmaid And the mewing of a hungry cat, skin and bones; With the arguments among merchants, With bitterness and struggle, With boys flinging stones at one another In the middle of the street, With filthy water flowing through alleyways, With the winds playing with roof doors, friendless, In almost deep forgetfulness. 103. It’s time this heart withdrew Ahlam Mistghanmi (b. 1953) is an Algerian novelist and poet who lives in Beirut. Her poetry often has a distinct narrative content. We’d made an appointment In a neighbourhood unfamiliar to us. And for the first time We sat across from one another at a square-shaped table. We glanced at the menu: one look at the main dishes Another at the drinks, But without exchanging glances. Instead of tea, we ordered a little forgetfulness And, as a main dish, a lot of lies.

e l e gie s   121 We put some ice in the glass of our love And some politeness in our words. We tucked our madness in our pockets, And our longing in our handbags. We wore clothes that held no memories And hung up the past with our overcoats, on the rack. And love passed us by, without recognising us. We spoke of things that do not matter to us. We spoke about everything and nothing. We discussed politics and literature, Freedom and religion . . . and Arab regimes. We differed on issues of no importance to us, Then agreed on issues of no importance to us. Did we need to agree on everything, We who, before that day, had never argued about anything? When love was our only common view? We differed to excess, To prove we were no longer Copies of our original selves. We argued loudly To cover the silence of our hearts, Hearts we had once accustomed to whispers. For we had taken up much of one another’s time, Then drew back and were polite, To gain more time for lying. We were no longer one person but two, Sitting at the edge of a square table, facing each other. When the love wound was twisting We used to avoid square tables: ‘Love means that two people sit side by side Looking in the same direction, Not sit facing each other, to look at each other.’ You recite your worries to me, one worry after another, I gather I am no longer your first worry. I tell you about my projects, You gather you’re no longer in my diary. You say you went to that restaurant which . . . I don’t ask you with whom. I say I’ll be travelling soon, You don’t ask where. So be it . . . Love was absent at our last supper:

122  p a r t i i, section i Lying acted as its deputy. It turned into a waiter quickly serving our orders In order to leave the place with minimum damage. That evening, The love meal was as cold as our soup, Salty like the taste of our tears, And memory was a forbidden drink, One we sipped from time to time . . . by mistake. When the table of love is removed, How silly it feels to sit at it, How silly lovers appear. Why remain? All this lying has been too much for us. O love, remove your table, It’s time this heart withdrew. 104. To devotees of bullfighting Ahlam Mistghanmi (When a prophet is martyred on the soil of a mountain ridge The heavens rain down curses on whoever shouts ‘Corrida!’) It was a bull. One day he entered the ring; Upon the gates were traces Of the blood of predecessors. He was no doubt young, Not knowing what a crowd was, Nor that exciting dark red cloak. A young simpleton, He turned to face the crowd, Hoping to see among the faces The face of a friend, Or perhaps, among the debris of hypocrisy, He might see a spark of light. He found nothing but scarves waving for his death, And people’s hats flapping Each time he snorted. On each lip was the cry ‘Corrida !’ Defying his dreams. At the end, the crowd clapped and screamed approval, For, to the forefront of tales Of that red arena, A new victim was added.

122  p a r t i i, section i Lying acted as its deputy. It turned into a waiter quickly serving our orders In order to leave the place with minimum damage. That evening, The love meal was as cold as our soup, Salty like the taste of our tears, And memory was a forbidden drink, One we sipped from time to time . . . by mistake. When the table of love is removed, How silly it feels to sit at it, How silly lovers appear. Why remain? All this lying has been too much for us. O love, remove your table, It’s time this heart withdrew. 104. To devotees of bullfighting Ahlam Mistghanmi (When a prophet is martyred on the soil of a mountain ridge The heavens rain down curses on whoever shouts ‘Corrida!’) It was a bull. One day he entered the ring; Upon the gates were traces Of the blood of predecessors. He was no doubt young, Not knowing what a crowd was, Nor that exciting dark red cloak. A young simpleton, He turned to face the crowd, Hoping to see among the faces The face of a friend, Or perhaps, among the debris of hypocrisy, He might see a spark of light. He found nothing but scarves waving for his death, And people’s hats flapping Each time he snorted. On each lip was the cry ‘Corrida !’ Defying his dreams. At the end, the crowd clapped and screamed approval, For, to the forefront of tales Of that red arena, A new victim was added.

section ii

Prose

P o pula r his t or iogr ap hy Histories written by ‘commoners’ only began to appear in the early modern period. 105. A Damascene barber records the life around him Al-Budayri al-Hallaq (d. after 1762) was born into a very poor family in Damascus; he eventually became a popular barber of the city. His chronicle of the city has been widely used by modern historians. (i) On the fourteenth day of the month of Ramadan of that year [1743] a man threw himself off the top of the minaret of the Daqqaq mosque and died instantly, his body crushed. His name was al-Shaykh Hasan, son of al-Shaykh Yusuf al-Rifaʿi. I asked why he did so and was told that his wife’s brother had brought a woman to his house who was a prostitute. He advised him to desist but the man scolded and beat him. He went and told the dignitaries of the quarter about the matter but they ignored him since they themselves were even more deeply sunk in sin. So he made his way to the Daqqaq mosque, prayed the morning prayer behind the imam, prayed the prayer of the dead upon himself, climbed to the top of the minaret and cried out: ‘O nation of Islam, death is easier to bear than fornication under this present government.’ He then threw himself to the ground. May God forgive him. (ii) In those days [1748] corruption increased and injustice was common. The number of prostitutes walking the markets by day and night increased. It happened that, in the governorship of Asʿad Pasha, one of these filles de joie fell madly in love with a Turkish youth. When he fell ill, she vowed that if he recovered from his illness she would pay for a mawlid [Prophet’s birthday hymn] to be read out for him at the shrine of Shaykh Arslan. A few days later the youth recovered, so she gathered together all the prostitutes of the city and they marched through the markets of Damascus, carrying candles, lamps and censers as they sang, clapped and played the tambourines, their faces bared and their hair hanging down. People lined up to watch them pass. No one expressed any objection to this exhibition of sin though the pious did raise their voices and cried out ‘God is great!’

124  p a r t i i, section ii (iii) On the fourteenth day of the month of Ramadan of this year [1744] there arrived in Damascus Fathi Effendi, the defterdar1 coming from Istanbul, full of joy and good cheer, no harm52having come to him. The reason for this is the large sums of money he disbursed in Istanbul, money with which he turned the hearts of men. He had been considered a protégé of the Chief Imperial Eunuch and other grandees of the state. It is said that he entered Istanbul in secret and distributed money both secretly and in the open. The Sultan had summoned him from Damascus. So they dressed up a man in his uniform and made him enter upon the Sultan. The Sultan began to rebuke him in strong language for his misdeeds and to recite to him the complaints that the people of Damascus had forwarded against him. Whenever Sultan Mahmud Khan addressed this man he would nod his head and say yes. The person who had admitted him into the Sultan’s presence had instructed him to act thus. So the Sultan immediately ordered his execution and he was executed, the Sultan thinking all the while that the man was Fathi Effendi the defterdar. Fathi was then advised to leave for Damascus by night. (iv) In those days [1747] the locusts increased and people suffered grievous harm. It was as if the people had not gathered and destroyed any locusts at all. All this was accompanied by increasing immorality, depravity, pride, high prices and sins of various kinds. So the Sufi Shaykh Ibrahim al-Jabbawi came out with his disciples carrying flags and drums and proceeded to the shrine of Sayyida Zaynab.253There they prayed for aid and succour to relieve the people from this calamity and returned at day’s end. They then circled the city of Damascus and passed before the seat of government where they performed a dawseh3 amid much emotion and weeping. Men lit lamps and prayed for the destruction of the locusts and an end to the calamity. Two days later, the people of the Midan quarter came with drums and banners and much shouting and excitement. They made for the main mosque, offering supplication and prayer for the end of the locust infestation and praying: ‘O You who wills what He pleases, we beseech You, in the name of Your beloved and chosen Prophet, to drive this calamity from us.’ But it was all in vain. How otherwise can it be when most women have exposed their charms? When prostitutes roam the alleyways and markets day and night, accompanied by their pimps and the depraved, and no one utters a word? When there is no one to command good and forbid evil? When the virtuous are sunk in sorrow and distress while the sinner revels in luxury? O God, relieve us. Amen. (v) On the eighth day of the month of Jumada I of this year [1750] a burglar from the Salihiyya quarter called al-Fustuqi was assassinated. It was said that he was a real prodigy and a great scourge, a man of immense courage who could repel a hundred brave men with his cane, and a burglar unequalled for his tricks among burglars. Among his tricks, unheard of and unprecedented, is that once his hand rested on a wall, however high it may be, and once his fingers were firmly embedded in it, he would immediately scale that wall. More amazing still is that he could perform this trick with his back to the wall. He could escape from any place in which he was locked up, no matter how secure it was. All this he accomplished when he was not yet twenty years of age. He then began to despoil the people of the Salihiyya in particular but also other quarters, and they were at a loss how to deal with him. Finally they offered a reward to anyone who would kill him, and that person managed to murder him by stealth after he had befriended him. He died and was gone, and it was as if he had never existed.

1 Defterdar: chief financial officer of a province. 2 Sayyida Zaynab: daughter of ʿAli and granddaughter of Muhammad. 3 Dawseh: Sufi ritual where the Sufi master, mounted on a horse, trod over his prostrate disciples.

short storie s   125

Sho rt sto r ie s The short story genre in modern Arabic literature continues in some ways the pre-modern anecdote genre. 106. A child’s secret Fuʾad al-Tikirli (d. 2008) was an Iraqi novelist, short story writer and judge. It was before noon, and a holiday. The sun filled Baghdad’s blue sky, spreading its rays into the trees of our garden and reflecting diverse hues, green, yellow and red. I was sitting in our living room, taking in this view when I heard my son, Sami, calling out from an adjoining room: ‘Dad, can you hear me? I have a bright idea. Can you hear me?’ We were all alone in the house. My wife had gone out shopping some time before and Sami was in his room nearby, pretending to do his homework. Lazily I answered: ‘Yes, I can hear you. Why so persistent? Come here and tell me.’ At once he appeared, framed in the doorway, smiling, and carrying a pencil and pad. ‘I swear, Dad, it’s a great idea.’ He drew near. I was sitting on a long sofa, enjoying the peace of the world around me and the joy instilled by that spring sunshine and the trees of the garden with their colours. Sami said: ‘Listen, Dad. How about us writing a story, you and I? Heh? A great idea, no? Tell me.’ ‘I have no objection.’ ‘Really? Tell me, Dad, really?’ ‘Don’t be a bore, Sami. I told you I agree.’ ‘Great! Great! Listen, Dad.’ He sat on the edge of the sofa, opened his pad and held the pencil in readiness. ‘Shall I start? Or do you have an idea we can start with?’ He was twelve years old, intelligent and sensitive. I was worried these qualities would in future bring him a misery of sorts. ‘You start, since it is your idea.’ ‘I have an idea which I think is great and original but don’t quite know how to write it up. You tell me how.’ We were not an unhappy family, he, my wife and myself. Our happiness was of the ordinary and customary kind in Baghdad and typical of our humble social status. ‘How can I explain “how” when I don’t know your idea? Just tell me now, how will this work out?’ ‘That’s true, Dad. I’m sorry. My idea is to write about my school friend Ahmad, the son of our neighbours.’ ‘You mean Ahmad, son of Umm Ahmad?’ My nerves were on edge despite myself when he mentioned Ahmad and Umm Ahmad. ‘Yes, of course, Dad. Who else?’ She lived in the house next door to ours, a widow of thirty-five. Her husband had died as a martyr some two years before. Her name was Bahija and her child Ahmad was a school friend of my son. ‘It’s simple, Dad. Ahmad told me himself. He doesn’t like his mother. In fact, he hates her.’ I was shocked and interrupted him: ‘He hates her? He hates his mother?’

short storie s   125

Sho rt sto r ie s The short story genre in modern Arabic literature continues in some ways the pre-modern anecdote genre. 106. A child’s secret Fuʾad al-Tikirli (d. 2008) was an Iraqi novelist, short story writer and judge. It was before noon, and a holiday. The sun filled Baghdad’s blue sky, spreading its rays into the trees of our garden and reflecting diverse hues, green, yellow and red. I was sitting in our living room, taking in this view when I heard my son, Sami, calling out from an adjoining room: ‘Dad, can you hear me? I have a bright idea. Can you hear me?’ We were all alone in the house. My wife had gone out shopping some time before and Sami was in his room nearby, pretending to do his homework. Lazily I answered: ‘Yes, I can hear you. Why so persistent? Come here and tell me.’ At once he appeared, framed in the doorway, smiling, and carrying a pencil and pad. ‘I swear, Dad, it’s a great idea.’ He drew near. I was sitting on a long sofa, enjoying the peace of the world around me and the joy instilled by that spring sunshine and the trees of the garden with their colours. Sami said: ‘Listen, Dad. How about us writing a story, you and I? Heh? A great idea, no? Tell me.’ ‘I have no objection.’ ‘Really? Tell me, Dad, really?’ ‘Don’t be a bore, Sami. I told you I agree.’ ‘Great! Great! Listen, Dad.’ He sat on the edge of the sofa, opened his pad and held the pencil in readiness. ‘Shall I start? Or do you have an idea we can start with?’ He was twelve years old, intelligent and sensitive. I was worried these qualities would in future bring him a misery of sorts. ‘You start, since it is your idea.’ ‘I have an idea which I think is great and original but don’t quite know how to write it up. You tell me how.’ We were not an unhappy family, he, my wife and myself. Our happiness was of the ordinary and customary kind in Baghdad and typical of our humble social status. ‘How can I explain “how” when I don’t know your idea? Just tell me now, how will this work out?’ ‘That’s true, Dad. I’m sorry. My idea is to write about my school friend Ahmad, the son of our neighbours.’ ‘You mean Ahmad, son of Umm Ahmad?’ My nerves were on edge despite myself when he mentioned Ahmad and Umm Ahmad. ‘Yes, of course, Dad. Who else?’ She lived in the house next door to ours, a widow of thirty-five. Her husband had died as a martyr some two years before. Her name was Bahija and her child Ahmad was a school friend of my son. ‘It’s simple, Dad. Ahmad told me himself. He doesn’t like his mother. In fact, he hates her.’ I was shocked and interrupted him: ‘He hates her? He hates his mother?’

126  p a r t i i, section ii ‘No, I didn’t mean that. See . . . I didn’t express myself well. He no longer loves her. That’s what he told me.’ Before her husband’s death, she used to look dignified, staid but somewhat artificial. She chose her clothes with great care in order to exaggerate the loveliness of her full body. When the two families would meet on formal occasions, he could not figure out her prolonged glances towards him, equivocal, mysterious. ‘What is this nonsense, Sami? He doesn’t like her? He doesn’t hate her? How odd!’ ‘Don’t be angry, Dad. I don’t know either. I just want us to write a story together. You and me. OK?’ ‘Of course I agree. Why not? But we must write in a way which our readers can understand.’ ‘Readers?! Will anyone read what we’ve written?’ ‘Why not? Why go to the trouble of writing a story if no one is going to read it?’ ‘Yes, of course, Dad. You’re right.’ Her husband died as a martyr, and he had carried out all the duties of a neighbour, encouraged by his wife. But deep at heart he was not content. Her attitude to him and her looks changed with the passing days. She would speak to him when they were alone in a language that was no longer ambiguous and in an obvious flirtatious tone. She was not good looking in the normal sense of the term but her body always seemed to him to be created for purposes well known to men. ‘Let us say then that . . . that Ahmad was in a situation where he did not bear much love for his mother.’ ‘Excellent! Didn’t I tell you, Dad, that you and I can write a great story?’ ‘Don’t be hasty. What happened afterwards? We need an event.’ ‘Fine. Now we have Ahmad, as you said, in a situation . . . how did you put it? Where he did not bear much love . . .’ ‘Love . . . did not bear much love for his mother.’ ‘Exactly. “Did not bear much love for his mother.” This is the correct expression. He no longer obeyed her or cared for her at all. He stopped eating, drinking and brushing his teeth, specially when she was observing him. Is this good?’ ‘Good. Carry on.’ ‘I will. Did you know, Dad, that he is like a small child?’ ‘What? Of course he’s a small child. What do you mean?’ ‘I mean . . . I don’t know. A few days ago he came to me and, imagine, he said, on the verge of tears, he said: “I want my dad, Sami . . . I want my dad.” As if I could bring his dad back to him!’ He began to help her occasionally in her household chores and found it rather tiresome. She would choose the time he came back from the office to relax, raise her head above the wall separating the two houses and call out to Umm Sami. She was always in her best finery, all made up. As he dragged himself over to answer her call for help with fixing the bottle of butane gas, she abandoned modesty and would rub herself against him, pretending she was helping him, giggling all the while. ‘Your friend Sami appears to be psychologically disturbed.’ ‘Good, Dad. Our story will be very psychological. Agreed?’ ‘Yes. Have you written all this down?’ ‘No. I am busy noting down the basic points.’ ‘And when, God willing, will you write the story?’ ‘You tell me when and we will start at once.’

short storie s   127 ‘When you’ve finished your homework, of course.’ ‘Of course. That goes without saying.’ ‘Continue, then.’ As he entered the house, uttering the name of God and pretending respect for her, she would welcome him warmly, and almost cling to him. Her perfume would fill his nostrils as he laboured away. Every now and then, she would come and go, walking in a manner that excited and embarrassed him. ‘I have an idea, Dad. I just got it. We concentrate for a long while on Ahmad’s psychological condition. We write about ten pages. What do you think?’ ‘Do you want to kill the reader?’ ‘Ha ha! Can we really? With just ten pages?’ ‘Sometimes less.’ ‘Come on, Dad. You’re pulling my leg.’ ‘Let’s turn back to your story, then, Ahmad’s story. What happened to him then? Tell me.’ ‘What happened is that he kept on disliking his mother, disobeying her and refusing all her requests. He became . . . I don’t know how to describe him. Help me, Dad.’ ‘Tell me first what happened to him.’ ‘I don’t know exactly.’ ‘How otherwise will you finish your story?’ ‘Help me out. I told you from the start that you must help me. I can’t finish it alone.’ ‘Fine, fine. Let’s say he went mad.’ ‘No, Dad, please! I beg you. He didn’t go mad, just different.’ ‘We are all different from one another. So what’s the difference?’ ‘True enough, but we are not mad. And yet, he told me once, I now remember . . .’ ‘Now? You didn’t say he told you something new.’ ‘Yes. He told me he once saw something.’ It was a strange evening. There was no one at home but me when she raised her head above the wall and began to call out repeatedly. Sami and his mother had gone out on some errand which I no longer remember. Her face and make-up shone under the red sun and her eyes sparkled. I asked her what she wanted. She giggled and didn’t answer. I cautiously approached the wall. She asked me about Umm Sami and I told her. She begged me, in plaintive tones, to fix the washing machine which had broken down. She said her son Ahmad had been ill since yesterday and she didn’t want to disturb him if she made a mess of running the machine. ‘So what did he see?’ ‘He didn’t say. It’s an artistic dilemma, right, Dad?’ ‘Of course. We must invent an event and fill the vacuum.’ I never harboured any evil intentions towards her when I saw her standing and waiting for me on the front balcony of her house. She was made up as usual, and wearing a tight-fitting dress which squeezed her body and greatly exaggerated her breasts. There was nothing new in this. I had almost always seen her like that. This time, however, I fell victim to a violent, almost mad desire to possess her. Suddenly, a single idea overcame me: she wanted me to do something and I had to do it. I felt a fiery heat engulfing me and propelling me towards her. ‘What do we do then?’ ‘We imagine. Let us imagine what that silly Ahmad saw.’

128  p a r t i i, section ii ‘Why silly, Dad?’ ‘I don’t know. Perhaps because he didn’t tell you what he saw.’ ‘True. He didn’t tell me.’ She led him into another room where there was no washing machine and he didn’t ask her why. Their agreement was implicit, joined together by some special lunacy. He didn’t pause to consider whether what they were about to do was right or wrong. He was simply led along with her. He was amazed by her audacity and her violent outburst and felt as if he was being swallowed greedily by a giant serpent. They were both panting as he felt their mingled saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth, fixed firmly upon her lips. It was then that he saw him: a child’s yellow face peeping from a slightly open side door. His eyes were terrified and amazed. ‘Sami, did you not insist on asking him what he saw?’ ‘No. Why should I have insisted? He doesn’t want to talk about it. So let us imagine what he saw . . .’ ‘As you say.’ ‘Let’s get our imagination going, Dad. Maybe we can discover what he saw.’ ‘I doubt whether we can.’ ‘Come on, Dad. Don’t say that. Why do you say we can’t when the story is almost finished?’ ‘Because the imagination, son, is sometimes unable to cope with the strange reality of life.’ 107. Three short stories by Zakariyya Tamir Zakariyya Tamir (b. 1931) is a Syrian short story writer, columnist and newspaper editor of wide renown in the Arab world. His short stories, heavily satirical and critical of political repression, are often described as surrealist. (i) ‘Good morning’ Sulayman woke up early one morning and was taken aback when he found that every object in his room was talking about him. Keeping his eyes shut and careful not to make any movement, he was eager to know what was being said about him. One wall said: ‘Is he sleeping or is he dead?’ Another wall said: ‘What difference does it make if he is asleep or dead or wide awake and running in the streets?’ A third wall said: ‘Every time he enters this room, I am convinced our number has increased and we’ve become five walls.’ The ceiling said: ‘Propriety is urgently required. Why does he sleep in the nude when it’s not even summer?’ The chair behind the table said: ‘Do you remember what he did a few days ago when he brought in a woman in secret? He sat and ogled her like some hungry beggar, speaking to her in the politest of tones and in a trembling voice, and didn’t even try to remove his necktie.’ The table said: ‘On exam day, a fellow is neither honoured nor humbled.’ The cupboard said: ‘I cannot bear this life anymore. I pray that I become old quickly and turn into worm-infested wood fit only to be burnt in a stove.’ The cupboard’s mirror said: ‘What really annoys me is the way he is entranced when looking at me and how he smiles in admiration at what he sees.’

128  p a r t i i, section ii ‘Why silly, Dad?’ ‘I don’t know. Perhaps because he didn’t tell you what he saw.’ ‘True. He didn’t tell me.’ She led him into another room where there was no washing machine and he didn’t ask her why. Their agreement was implicit, joined together by some special lunacy. He didn’t pause to consider whether what they were about to do was right or wrong. He was simply led along with her. He was amazed by her audacity and her violent outburst and felt as if he was being swallowed greedily by a giant serpent. They were both panting as he felt their mingled saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth, fixed firmly upon her lips. It was then that he saw him: a child’s yellow face peeping from a slightly open side door. His eyes were terrified and amazed. ‘Sami, did you not insist on asking him what he saw?’ ‘No. Why should I have insisted? He doesn’t want to talk about it. So let us imagine what he saw . . .’ ‘As you say.’ ‘Let’s get our imagination going, Dad. Maybe we can discover what he saw.’ ‘I doubt whether we can.’ ‘Come on, Dad. Don’t say that. Why do you say we can’t when the story is almost finished?’ ‘Because the imagination, son, is sometimes unable to cope with the strange reality of life.’ 107. Three short stories by Zakariyya Tamir Zakariyya Tamir (b. 1931) is a Syrian short story writer, columnist and newspaper editor of wide renown in the Arab world. His short stories, heavily satirical and critical of political repression, are often described as surrealist. (i) ‘Good morning’ Sulayman woke up early one morning and was taken aback when he found that every object in his room was talking about him. Keeping his eyes shut and careful not to make any movement, he was eager to know what was being said about him. One wall said: ‘Is he sleeping or is he dead?’ Another wall said: ‘What difference does it make if he is asleep or dead or wide awake and running in the streets?’ A third wall said: ‘Every time he enters this room, I am convinced our number has increased and we’ve become five walls.’ The ceiling said: ‘Propriety is urgently required. Why does he sleep in the nude when it’s not even summer?’ The chair behind the table said: ‘Do you remember what he did a few days ago when he brought in a woman in secret? He sat and ogled her like some hungry beggar, speaking to her in the politest of tones and in a trembling voice, and didn’t even try to remove his necktie.’ The table said: ‘On exam day, a fellow is neither honoured nor humbled.’ The cupboard said: ‘I cannot bear this life anymore. I pray that I become old quickly and turn into worm-infested wood fit only to be burnt in a stove.’ The cupboard’s mirror said: ‘What really annoys me is the way he is entranced when looking at me and how he smiles in admiration at what he sees.’

short storie s   129 The television set said: ‘I am not stingy, but he only enjoys films that are full of sighing and weeping.’ The comb said: ‘It’s as if he’s blind. He hasn’t yet noticed that the grey hairs on his head outnumber the dark hairs.’ A pen said: ‘If I didn’t suffer from a weak memory I could recount to you for months on end what he writes in his letters to women, trivialities that dry up the blood in the veins.’ The toothbrush said: ‘He never tires of talking about love, and never loves anyone; he never tires of talking about marriage and children and never marries.’ The bed said: ‘I beg you to try to convince him to reduce his weight.’ At that very moment the door opened so all immediately fell silent. Sulayman quickly and awkwardly tried to cover his body, as a young girl walked in carrying a cup of coffee which she presented to Sulayman, and then smilingly said: ‘Good morning.’ Sulayman yawned and stretched then said: ‘Just tell me, to begin with, are you, Lama, a sister who is anxious to please her brother?’ Lama answered: ‘What is this embarrassing question so early in the morning?’ Sulayman said: ‘If you truly love me, move into this room and let me have yours.’ Lama said: ‘You must be joking. My room is small and narrow and yours is so spacious.’ ‘No, I am not joking,’ said Sulayman. ‘How about exchanging rooms as of today? I will leave everything behind and take only my clothes.’ Lama was happy to accept his proposal and left the room, leaving him to sip his coffee slowly as he looked about him, satisfied with his revenge and with a malicious joy in his heart. (ii) Burglars Fadwa, the daughter of Bahij ʿAlwani, died before she could fall in love, marry or have children, male or female; and before finishing her university education and achieving her dream of becoming a famous paediatrician. She died suddenly: she fell down dead while walking in the street. Her elderly parents were filled with sorrow, for she was their only child. All who heard of her death were equally sorrowful, accusing death of being cruel and arbitrary, and of taking away the good and ignoring the evil. Fadwa had been a gentle girl, whose face was never seen to frown. She looked like a white flower sprouting amid ruins. Her parents could no longer bear their sorrow and fell ill. One day they visited a doctor’s clinic. During their absence, unknown burglars broke into their house and scattered all its belongings, but without stealing anything. The police were puzzled. The burglars managed to break open the locked iron safe owned by Bahij ʿAlwani, and scattered temptingly large amounts of money all over the floor along with Fadwa’s mother’s jewellery, which the burglars had also found. It appeared as if the intention of the burglars was not burglary but simply to inconvenience the owners. But a few days later, when Fadwa’s mother restored order to the house, she discovered that the burglars had taken away all the photos they could find of Fadwa. (iii) The eternal governor On his very first day in office, the new governor delivered a lengthy speech in which he announced his determination to enact a series of regulations guaranteed to reform the city in all fields. A few days later, he issued a decree which granted women the right to polyandry, allowing them to marry ten men at any one time. The city’s women welcomed this decree

130  p a r t i i, section ii but the men were outraged, and presented to the governor strongly worded petitions demanding that the decree be rescinded at once. The answer from the governor was that this decree was meant to last and be fully implemented in order to end discrimination between men and women. So the men of the city were forced to send a delegation which included the wealthiest and most cultured among them to complain to the governor and to entreat him to change his mind. The members of the delegation vied with one another in detailing the evils of the new decree and how it violated the teachings of true religion. They asked: ‘If our religion, the most just of all religions, allows men to marry only four women, how can the new decree permit women to marry ten men?’ The governor promised to review their protests. After a few days the men of the city were surprised when an amendment to the decree was issued permitting women to marry only four men. They welcomed that amendment and considered it a victory for them. So they were not taken aback when they learnt that the governor’s young and pretty wife had acquired three more husbands. Apparently the governor himself had heaved a sigh of relief, saying that a millstone cannot be carried by one man, no matter how proud he is of his strength, whereas four weak men can carry it with ease. The governor then decided to wage a relentless war against the rude imaginings current among the youth. His aides were amazed at this decision so he explained: ‘Whoever succeeds in imagining a woman to whom he does what he pleases will not find it difficult to also imagine a governor to whom he does what he pleases.’ The governor became well known for his concern to bring happiness to the people of the city in all sorts of ways. One day he discovered that their wretchedness had no other reason than the fact that they walked on two legs. So he forbade this and ordered people to go about on all fours. The people liked this new manner of walking, finding it more relaxing, and the police could not arrest a single law breaker. The industry of manufacturing shoes for hands and feet thrived, while the modern fashion in clothes changed its nature, becoming more concerned to show off the back since it was more visible. When the governor died of old age, other governors succeeded him, issuing new decrees that rescinded many of those passed during his tenure of office. But walking on all fours continued, garnering ever greater praise for being a civilised and sophisticated means of abolishing the differences that exist among creatures that tread the earth.

f e minism   131

F em inism 108. A lecture given in Cairo in 1914 (excerpts) May Ziadeh (d. 1941) was a brilliant Palestinian-Lebanese writer and lecturer and an early Arab feminist. Her literary salon in Cairo was attended by some of Egypt’s most renowned literary figures. In the age of barbarism, women were considered domestic animals. Ignorance deemed them to be the property of men, to be used in any manner they liked. A man could abandon a woman if he wished or else he could destroy her if he felt so inclined. She was no better than a wretched slave, a humble prisoner. With the passage of years she ‘advanced’ to the status of a minor child, a toy with which the master could play in his leisure hours, a tinselled statue upon which were hung silken garments and precious jewellery. Who can ever know what all this finery hid beneath it of bleeding hearts that no human being ever cared about or dressed? The history of women is one long and painful history of martyrdom. It is truly amazing that women in olden times never had a champion or friend. The commoners hated and despised women, not an altogether surprising attitude among ignorant people. But what is truly amazing is the attitude of men whom we nowadays hold to be the great thinkers of their day and age. Thus Roman poets mention only the beauty of a woman’s body but there is nothing in their poetry about her soul. They all agree on calling her ‘the beautiful devil’ or else ‘the fountain of poisoned pleasures’. The Greek dramatists, such as Aeschylus and Euripides, call her quite simply ‘the world’s calamity’. And what about the philosophers? Here is the greatest of them all, the divine Plato, who believed that a cowardly man would be reincarnated in the body of an animal or of a woman. If only he knew that it would be a woman who was to teach Neoplatonism in the School of Alexandria. Neither her youth nor her beauty prevented her from being the most learned scholar of her age. I refer to the young Hypatia, daughter of the celebrated mathematician Theon. She was torn to pieces in the streets of Alexandria in the early fifth century, a martyr to philosophy and to her sincerity and devotion to Neoplatonism. The first person to feel compassion towards women was Jesus of Nazareth. He was the first to equate women with men by outlining a single path for both, leading either to reward or to punishment. Nevertheless, Christianity banned women from holding clerical office and some theologians still consider women to be the fount of all sin. The Prophet of Islam then came and raised the status of women in Arab lands. He forbade the practice of female infanticide and equated women with men in all rights and obligations. Some learned people assert that women also enjoy the same political rights as men. Muslim women may also be jurists. Indeed the first jurist was ʿAʾisha, wife of Muhammad. Here I should also mention Petrarch and Dante, the first among poets and thinkers to have a feeling for a woman’s soul. Who among us does not know Laura and Beatrice? Then came the greatest of all modern dramatists, Shakespeare. Most of his major heroes were beautiful women with great souls, in whose selves the most powerful instincts of love merge with the noblest and most painful sentiments of sacrifice. But most thinkers of that age were not like Shakespeare and Corneille. This is how Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, summarised the views of his contemporaries: ‘Woman was born from a man’s extra rib. This is why she is barren, lacks intelligence and possesses no consciousness.’ God have mercy on your soul, Bossuet! As to whether woman was born of man’s rib, I have no opinion on the matter, but I’d rather have been born from the essence of man’s heart and

132  p a r t i i, section ii sentiments than be a prime cutlet! As for the extra rib, this is a moot point, and I will not venture to discuss this anatomical, or perhaps non-anatomical, issue! But let us leave the ancients and turn to the present. The renaissance of women is now daily spreading into the furthest reaches of our world. It is a renaissance that promises a great good, proving that the civilisations of the past were lame because they rested on only one gender. The civilisation of the future does not belong to man alone: it is the civilisation of humanity, for women are slowly ascending to their true station alongside men. In all countries, the impact of women has been beneficial. Wherever women have assumed public office, crimes have decreased, and palpable improvements have resulted in the general morality of a nation as well as its health. In this chaotic age, there are many who still mock women but the champions of women are more numerous, with generous hearts and discerning minds. In fact these champions are the noblest and most honourable men of our age. And here in Egypt, the chains that had for ages past bound women are beginning to shatter. That barely audible voice, for long accustomed to whispering obedience or murmuring discontent, is now being heard loud and clear, coming from the very depths of those dark ages, from the graves, from the oceans, from all elements of life, and screaming: ‘O man, you humiliated me, and thus you yourself were humiliated! Free me so that you yourself can become free! Free me so that humanity can become free!’ 109. Two autobiographical accounts ʿAnbara Salam al-Khalidi (d. 1986), a Lebanese writer, lecturer and translator, was the first woman in Greater Syria to remove the veil in public in 1927. (i) A girl dons the veil in Beirut in 1907 Having reached the age of ten I became increasingly subject to censure as I walked to and from school. The disapproving remarks came from both men and women: ‘Go home to your family and tell them to veil you’, ‘It is not right for you to remain unveiled until now’, ‘What is the name of your family so we can go and complain about this to them?’ I would shake with fear at the threatening tone of these remarks as though these strangers had some legal right over me or my family, or as though they were self-appointed guardians of religious morality. Although I often went to school accompanied by others I would return, afraid, to my mother and beg her to prepare a veil for me so as to be rid of these annoyances. Nor was my mother averse to this, for she was attached firmly to her veil, even when examined by doctors. I still remember my astonishment when, accompanying her to the dentist while I was still a small child, I never imagined she would take such precautions with her veil, for she brought with her a scarf which she wrapped around her face and head and from which only her mouth was exposed to the dentist. Thus she was only too happy to prepare the veil I requested while still at an early age. And so it was that I entered this iron cage at ten years of age, stumbling in my shawl, and joining my mother and grandmothers who had preceded me to it. At that point in time I did not feel any sadness or regret but imagined this to be the fate of all girls of my age and that I had now become a young woman, that the veil was in a sense a mark of respect for my person. The only thing which truly saddened me was that I was no longer allowed to go down to the garden to play with my brothers since the garden was in full view of our neighbours. Nor was I allowed to climb trees and eat a snack on a branch as I used to do in the past. This feeling

132  p a r t i i, section ii sentiments than be a prime cutlet! As for the extra rib, this is a moot point, and I will not venture to discuss this anatomical, or perhaps non-anatomical, issue! But let us leave the ancients and turn to the present. The renaissance of women is now daily spreading into the furthest reaches of our world. It is a renaissance that promises a great good, proving that the civilisations of the past were lame because they rested on only one gender. The civilisation of the future does not belong to man alone: it is the civilisation of humanity, for women are slowly ascending to their true station alongside men. In all countries, the impact of women has been beneficial. Wherever women have assumed public office, crimes have decreased, and palpable improvements have resulted in the general morality of a nation as well as its health. In this chaotic age, there are many who still mock women but the champions of women are more numerous, with generous hearts and discerning minds. In fact these champions are the noblest and most honourable men of our age. And here in Egypt, the chains that had for ages past bound women are beginning to shatter. That barely audible voice, for long accustomed to whispering obedience or murmuring discontent, is now being heard loud and clear, coming from the very depths of those dark ages, from the graves, from the oceans, from all elements of life, and screaming: ‘O man, you humiliated me, and thus you yourself were humiliated! Free me so that you yourself can become free! Free me so that humanity can become free!’ 109. Two autobiographical accounts ʿAnbara Salam al-Khalidi (d. 1986), a Lebanese writer, lecturer and translator, was the first woman in Greater Syria to remove the veil in public in 1927. (i) A girl dons the veil in Beirut in 1907 Having reached the age of ten I became increasingly subject to censure as I walked to and from school. The disapproving remarks came from both men and women: ‘Go home to your family and tell them to veil you’, ‘It is not right for you to remain unveiled until now’, ‘What is the name of your family so we can go and complain about this to them?’ I would shake with fear at the threatening tone of these remarks as though these strangers had some legal right over me or my family, or as though they were self-appointed guardians of religious morality. Although I often went to school accompanied by others I would return, afraid, to my mother and beg her to prepare a veil for me so as to be rid of these annoyances. Nor was my mother averse to this, for she was attached firmly to her veil, even when examined by doctors. I still remember my astonishment when, accompanying her to the dentist while I was still a small child, I never imagined she would take such precautions with her veil, for she brought with her a scarf which she wrapped around her face and head and from which only her mouth was exposed to the dentist. Thus she was only too happy to prepare the veil I requested while still at an early age. And so it was that I entered this iron cage at ten years of age, stumbling in my shawl, and joining my mother and grandmothers who had preceded me to it. At that point in time I did not feel any sadness or regret but imagined this to be the fate of all girls of my age and that I had now become a young woman, that the veil was in a sense a mark of respect for my person. The only thing which truly saddened me was that I was no longer allowed to go down to the garden to play with my brothers since the garden was in full view of our neighbours. Nor was I allowed to climb trees and eat a snack on a branch as I used to do in the past. This feeling

f e minism   133 was the first lump in my throat which formed my later attitude to veiling, isolation and the tyranny of social chains. At about that same time, an innocent friendship grew between me and a little beggar girl of my own age who often came to our house to beg. No sooner would I spy her coming than I would sneak down to sit on the stairs by her side and give her the sweets and food I had set aside for her. In return she would tell me stories of her life and the wondrous ways of her profession. Never once do I recall that I pitied her; rather her stories fed my imagination with exciting dreams. I envied her life of liberty and wished I could share, if only for a single day, her carefree existence. She was a girl of exceptional intelligence to the point where I never felt disgusted by her dirty and tattered clothes. Indeed she made me feel how superior she was to me in the affairs of the world and freedom of behaviour when contrasted with my own narrow existence, confined to the walls of the house or the school, and dominated by parental authority. These encounters with the beggar girl stirred in me hidden and inscrutable imaginings of a free and untrammelled life. (ii) Twenty years later: the unveiling (excerpts) I was invited [in 1927] to give a lecture about my impressions of England by the Sunday School committee, before what was of course to be a mixed audience. Since the lecture was very detailed and required about two hours to deliver, I went to my father to consult him as to whether I should deliver the lecture unveiled. His answer was to do what I thought most appropriate. I found the occasion to be a good one to liberate myself from the veil, which I had long come to believe not merely covered the face but was in fact a prison which prohibited women from moving on into the wider world, preventing them from interacting with world events and constricting them in a manner which implied a great deal of humiliation and the invasion of personal dignity. Stepping up to the podium I removed my veil. No sooner did I do so than the entire city was in uproar against me and my family. We began to hear loud voices proclaiming woes and calamities or else bewailing the collapse of morals. These attacks took many forms. In addition to written abuse of me and a variety of accusations against my character, leaflets were distributed in the city and a campaign of violent acts was set afoot. Acid was thrown at women walking in the streets, women’s shawls were ripped up with razor blades and so forth. These acts of violence were directed even at veiled women whose veils were found not to be to the taste of the attackers nor corresponded to their outworn and petrified ideas of what a veil should be. As for me, I decided not to expose myself directly to this wave of violence, convinced as I was that it would eventually subside and that progress of this sort cannot be reversed. And so it was that we would wear the veil when walking through conservative city quarters or streets but remove it at public meetings and in our houses until the veil lost its dominion completely. This younger generation of women know nothing of the veil and cannot even imagine what it was like. Nor can they understand how something which was once thought a major sin is so trivial an issue today, indeed an occasion for merriment.

134  p a r t i i, section ii

Perso na l e x p e r ie nc e 110. An Egyptian Muslim cleric defrocks (circa 1927) Ahmad Amin (d. 1954) was a well-known Egyptian historian and scholar of Arabic and Islamic studies. Before term began in my second year as a lecturer in the Faculty of Arts at Cairo University a lengthy argument arose between me and a friend and colleague in the Faculty of Law. One day he said to me: ‘Why do you insist on wearing the turban? The turban is the mark of a religious cleric and you are not now a cleric. You teach Arabic language and literature just as a Frenchman teaches French language and literature, and these are secular, not religious subjects. Furthermore the fact that you wear a turban in an environment which is all hats and fezzes makes you the odd man out in your surroundings.’ On and on he went. I thought long about what he said and found he was right, but the fact that I had grown habituated to my turban and that people had got used to me in that guise made me shy about changing it. The more he insisted the more I pondered the issue until I finally came round to his view. What encouraged me to do so were the bother and inconvenience I used to experience while wearing the turban. Most Egyptians, especially in the cities, pay outward respect to the turban but do not respect it in their hearts. Generally speaking, they respect the fez but scorn the turban. The principle they adopt by and large is that the wearer of the fez is shown respect until proven worthy of contempt while the wearer of the turban is despised until proven worthy of respect. Many incidents had happened which made me hate the turban. I once entered a hotel and was told by the manager that he had no rooms available, whereas a man in a fez who was standing behind me was quickly accommodated. At a post office once I was standing at the window alongside a man in a fez who had arrived after me. The clerk served him before me so I grew angry and demanded that he serve people by turn. At one time I was getting ready to ride first class on the tramway but the ticket collector pointed me to the second class compartment with the words: ‘This is first class!’ Once I went with a friend in a fez to a modern café in a suburb of Alexandria. He was allowed in but I was not, so I had to turn back, depressed and ashamed. And so it went. All these incidents made me lean towards my colleague’s opinion. So I went to a tailor, ordered two suits and bought a fez. I had now gone back, after twentyseven years, to the mode of dress I used to wear when a young student at the Umm ʿAbbas school. I had completely forgotten how to tie a necktie so I resorted at first to someone who would tie it for me until I eventually learnt how to do it myself. I took the opportunity of the start of a new academic year to go to the faculty in a fez, stumbling a little as I walked in the street and around the faculty. I was at first very shy of people, some of whom approved while others disapproved. I remember an English lady, the wife of a colleague, telling me: ‘I liked you better in a turban.’ I replied: ‘Yes, you’re right. You prefer a turban in the same way you prefer the older parts of Khan al-Khalili1 to the shopping district in Fuʾad Street.’2 In any case I now felt more at ease and more in keeping with my university environment. 54

1

Khan al-Khalili: an ancient Cairene market. 2 Fuʾad Street: a modern shopping area.

p e rsonal e xp e rie nce    135 111. An encounter with George Bernard Shaw (circa 1910) Salama Musa (d. 1958), an Egyptian journalist and essayist, was a pioneer socialist and secularist thinker. During my time in London, I benefited much from mixing with the Fabian Society. They were of course socialists but were also progressives in many other respects. Any new literary movement, any theory advanced by the secularists, any new-fangled religious or philosophical idea would always find someone to argue for it among the Fabians. The society would hold meetings to debate such issues as eugenics or discuss social or economic developments in Germany or France. It was through this society that I came to know Russian literature and also Ibsen, not to mention Shaw or Wells, both of whom were leading Fabians. At that time Shaw was in his prime, his beard still red. The Fabians would crowd around him. The first time I ever engaged him in conversation was when he saw me gazing at a portrait of him on the wall. He came forward and said: ‘What do you think of this insult?’ I said: ‘The portrait is well done and cannot be called insulting.’ When he knew I was a Copt, he said: ‘Are you monophysite?’ The question embarrassed me since I did not know what that mouth-filling word meant. It then occurred to me that the word might have something to do with vegetarianism because Shaw was associated in my mind with the vegetarian movement. I myself had toyed with this idea by turning vegetarian at one time and abstaining from meat for a few months. I further imagined that the question was addressed to us as a community since the English ‘you’ can refer to both the singular and the plural, and that Shaw thought that we were vegetarians like the Hindus. So I replied: ‘No. We also eat meat in Egypt.’ Shaw burst out laughing and suggested I look up the word ‘monophysite’ in a dictionary. That evening I looked it up and found it has to do with Christian theology and that the Copts believed that the human nature of Christ had been absorbed by his divine nature; thus he had one, divine, nature, and hence the term ‘monophysite’.

136  p a r t i i, section ii

Hum o ur 112. The fat person Saʿid Taqyiddin (d. 1960) was a Lebanese playwright, essayist and humorist. Ignore all medical advice: heart disease does not kill the fat person. He who wields the stethoscope is lying when he warns the fat person that the fat accumulating around the heart constricts the heart’s movements, causing it to multiply its beats, which in turn makes them irregular, tiring the heart and causing it to suddenly stop. I know all about the problem of the fat person and I shall prescribe for you the remedy without extracting twenty-five pounds from your wallet as consultation fee. My expertise is based on forty-six years of personal research. For I was born fat, I reached my manhood fat, I grew old fat, and I shall become senile and die fat. Heart disease does not kill the fat person. The fat person is killed by his friends. During childhood, his playmates call him all sorts of nicknames and heap on him their abuse and derision. Once the fat person reaches manhood, he is tormented by banter totally devoid of humour: ‘Will this chair be wide enough to hold you?’ Hahaha! ‘How many loaves of bread did you have for breakfast today?’ Hahaha! ‘Watch out! The balcony might collapse under you!’ Hahaha! When the fat person becomes used to this humourless banter, and ceases to care, he is bombarded by a shower of rocks in the form of endless counsel. He meets a friend who, pursing his lips and knitting his eyebrows, explains in a manner worthy of Einstein the harm that comes from fatness and whispers, as if revealing the secrets of the atom bomb, that eating bread and sweets and drinking water causes the body to bloat. Having escaped that knowledgeable friend, the fat person is waylaid by another friend who lectures him on an original discovery, namely that sport, especially walking, causes fat to dissolve, then lists for him the vegetables he should avoid eating. Then there is the prince of all bores who asks the fat person how much he weighs, insists on an answer, then volunteers the advice that the fat person should refrain from breakfast, lunch and dinner, and run 120 kilometres every day. By his very nature, the fat person is kind hearted, and he may well end up following the advice of his friends, not out of self-love but in order to please them. So he fasts, he runs, and he climbs on the scales to discover he has lost about 400 grams. As he leaves the pharmacy, joyful and elated, a friend grabs him by the hand and tells him: ‘I see you are growing fatter every day.’ The friend then proceeds to tell him stories about ʿAlya Sharshuh, Mr ʿAwsaj Shandib and Dr Shamdas Jahjah,1 and how they fasted and exercised, and how they are now svelte and happy, and will neither sicken nor die. He volunteers a suggestion: do not sleep at all since sleep increases weight. He might also be kind enough to quote with pride a modern scientific article he’s read which claims that disappointment causes obesity, adding: ‘You are a failure. Do you want to be rid of your obesity? Be successful, win a million pounds, become prime minister, marry Ingrid Bergman. When you’ve done all that you will no longer resort to eating as a revenge for disappointment.’ 55

1

ʿAlya Sharshuh etc.: humorous characters in plays by Taqyiddin.

humour   137 But the misery that haunts the fat person might occasionally be interspersed with flashes of happiness which hold him back from suicide every time he contemplates it. I remember that one day, as I was crossing a street, a woman came rushing out of a beauty parlour. I guessed she must have stayed about two years strapped to a chair in that parlour. She immediately lunged at me: ‘My God! How thin you’ve become! I hardly recognised you.’ Half an hour later the poor woman had to return to the beauty parlour for I had wiped out her varnished fingers and toes with my kisses of thanks and my tears of joy. This woman deserves a medal, indeed a statue in her honour, instead of those who build schools at their own expense or feed the hungry. A criminal court should be set up to try all who poke fun at fat people or volunteer advice to them. And to the four freedoms found in the Declaration of Human Rights should be added a fifth: the freedom of mankind to grow as fat as they please. We fat people would have been happy and immortal on this earth had it not been for our friends who volunteer their services as our tormentors.

138  p a r t i i, section ii

J esus 113. Christ: a modern Muslim view (excerpts) ʿAbbas Mahmud al-ʿAqqad (d. 1964) was a prolific Egyptian writer, best known for his series of biographies of what he termed ‘men of genius’. In the age of Christ the most victimised sector of society was women. Indeed, in every age where extreme luxury predominates alongside abject poverty, and where hypocrisy is widespread, the woman is always the primary victim. In every such age, women are held responsible for social tensions in all their diverse forms: sexual seduction, poverty, broken families, doubt that undermines faith. And yet, in every age, it is tranquillity and clemency that are the most distinctive attributes of women. Pursued by curses down the ages, and shrouded in that particular age of Christ by merciless and unremitting accusations of seduction, that victim looked about her and beheld a tenderness appearing: a tenderness that sheltered her weakness, healed her wounded soul, wiped away the hopelessness from the depths of her being and illumined her with the light of God’s mercy. The tenderness of Christ taught her the lessons of sacred love, the sort of lessons she never learnt from the punishments laid down for her in the religious law of the hypocrites or the codes of law givers. On the screen of that troubled history there appeared a shining image. Long after the laws of the Temple and the laws of Rome have vanished, that shining image remains on high. It is the image of forgiveness, personified in a noble Messenger, and of repentance, personified by a woman who was shunned by her society. Lying at his feet, her tears were mingled with the perfume with which she anointed his feet and which she wiped with her locks of hair. The response to such genuine repentance was mercy, a mercy that deprived a hypocritical religious law of its intended victims. A false piety is always fearful of losing its power and conceit: woe to him who opens the door that leads to repentance and mercy and cares nothing for doors that lead to vengeance and punishment! From the very first step that Christ took on the journey of his ministry and preaching, he bound himself to shun all earthly power, to remain aloof from all its realms. He would not challenge it in any way, either by calling for its overthrow or else for its salvation. He neither wished to change it nor ever claimed to assume it himself. But although he kept away from the path of earthly power, power did not leave him alone to pursue his message. As crowds quickly began to gather around him, it was above all the religious authorities that recognised the danger posed by that beloved preacher. Popular preachers have always posed a danger to authorities that are characterised by traditionalism and stagnation. They proceeded to invade his realm even though he had kept himself away from theirs. An inevitable clash thus occurred between an authority whose concern was an obsession with accusation or dredging up all manner of misdemeanours and punishments, and a ministry whose slogan was to facilitate repentance for sinners and to pave the way for hope in divine forgiveness. Hence, preaching forgiveness and repentance was the greatest of all sins committed by that new missionary, since crime and punishment is the central concern of all repressive authority. In addition to its being a profitable concern for that authority, it is cause for boasting and haughtiness.

perso nal e xp e rie nce s of war   139

P erso na l ex p e r ie nc e s of w ar 114. Scenes from the First World War (Palestine) Khalil al-Sakakini (d. 1953) was a celebrated Palestinian educator and writer noted for his simple and witty yet classical prose style. 1. Wednesday 30 September 1914. This general war has taught us to economise, indeed to be thrifty. Since it broke out some two months ago and until today, our daily expenses have not exceeded 2 or 3 qurush.1 Days have gone by when we ate nothing but bread, grapes and salads. Meat did not enter our house. Though most of my English students have gone, and there remain only a few private tutorials, my debts amount to a few francs. If crises have any value, economy and sound management are among their benefits. People have given up pleasures and entertainments and have grown simpler in dress and lifestyle. Indeed they’ve grown used to straitened circumstances. After being frightened by the least thing, they now care for nothing. It is as if these crises and dangers that they witnessed have created in them new hearts, making them more manly, more courageous than before. Then again, people today read nothing but telegrams, since most local newspapers have ceased publication and Egyptian newspapers have been banned. So people will no doubt grow accustomed to ‘telegramese’. The virtue of conciseness will become a habit. When speaking or writing, they will tend to express their thoughts in the most succinct manner and with minimum verbiage. Who knows but that this too may be counted as one of the benefits of these days! 2. Wednesday 21 November 1917. It rained steadily all last night. I went to sleep thinking of the soldiers fighting each other on mountaintops or perched behind their guns in the valleys. I compared in my mind the Ottoman army with the English, imagining the state of each. I pictured the English soldier covered from head to foot in woollens, a sturdy tent nearby and all his food and drink provided in plenty, full of life and health. I then pictured the Ottoman soldier, hungry, his uniform in tatters, his boots in shreds, with nothing to protect him from the rain and cold, standing in the open behind his gun, shivering from the cold, doubled up with hunger, and finding nothing to eat but scraps of dried bread. And there I was, sleeping comfortably and securely in my bed, despising myself and my lack of zeal. 56

115. Scenes from the First World War (Lebanon) (i) ʿAnbara Salam al-Khalidi Death opened its jaws wide to swallow the masses of starving people sprawled in the streets of Beirut. As we heard the cry ‘I am hungry! I am hungry!’ we would rush to the windows and balconies of our house and call out to whoever among them could walk to approach, and hand out food to them or send food to those who could not move. I recall that whenever she left our house my mother always carried with her some bread or dried food to distribute to the hungry rather than a few piastres which would have done them little good. I saw with my own eyes children scavenging in rubbish heaps to see if they could find any bits of food, competing with dogs for whatever scraps were to be found. My heart bled when once, as we exited a shop in the 1

Qurush: a fractional Ottoman coin.

perso nal e xp e rie nce s of war   139

P erso na l ex p e r ie nc e s of w ar 114. Scenes from the First World War (Palestine) Khalil al-Sakakini (d. 1953) was a celebrated Palestinian educator and writer noted for his simple and witty yet classical prose style. 1. Wednesday 30 September 1914. This general war has taught us to economise, indeed to be thrifty. Since it broke out some two months ago and until today, our daily expenses have not exceeded 2 or 3 qurush.1 Days have gone by when we ate nothing but bread, grapes and salads. Meat did not enter our house. Though most of my English students have gone, and there remain only a few private tutorials, my debts amount to a few francs. If crises have any value, economy and sound management are among their benefits. People have given up pleasures and entertainments and have grown simpler in dress and lifestyle. Indeed they’ve grown used to straitened circumstances. After being frightened by the least thing, they now care for nothing. It is as if these crises and dangers that they witnessed have created in them new hearts, making them more manly, more courageous than before. Then again, people today read nothing but telegrams, since most local newspapers have ceased publication and Egyptian newspapers have been banned. So people will no doubt grow accustomed to ‘telegramese’. The virtue of conciseness will become a habit. When speaking or writing, they will tend to express their thoughts in the most succinct manner and with minimum verbiage. Who knows but that this too may be counted as one of the benefits of these days! 2. Wednesday 21 November 1917. It rained steadily all last night. I went to sleep thinking of the soldiers fighting each other on mountaintops or perched behind their guns in the valleys. I compared in my mind the Ottoman army with the English, imagining the state of each. I pictured the English soldier covered from head to foot in woollens, a sturdy tent nearby and all his food and drink provided in plenty, full of life and health. I then pictured the Ottoman soldier, hungry, his uniform in tatters, his boots in shreds, with nothing to protect him from the rain and cold, standing in the open behind his gun, shivering from the cold, doubled up with hunger, and finding nothing to eat but scraps of dried bread. And there I was, sleeping comfortably and securely in my bed, despising myself and my lack of zeal. 56

115. Scenes from the First World War (Lebanon) (i) ʿAnbara Salam al-Khalidi Death opened its jaws wide to swallow the masses of starving people sprawled in the streets of Beirut. As we heard the cry ‘I am hungry! I am hungry!’ we would rush to the windows and balconies of our house and call out to whoever among them could walk to approach, and hand out food to them or send food to those who could not move. I recall that whenever she left our house my mother always carried with her some bread or dried food to distribute to the hungry rather than a few piastres which would have done them little good. I saw with my own eyes children scavenging in rubbish heaps to see if they could find any bits of food, competing with dogs for whatever scraps were to be found. My heart bled when once, as we exited a shop in the 1

Qurush: a fractional Ottoman coin.

140  p a r t i i, section ii almost empty Burj Square, a banana seller approached from whom we bought some bananas. No sooner had we peeled them than a host of kids fell upon the skins, fighting to get them. We stopped eating and gave them what we had left. The human figure became distorted. We would see children with distended bellies, their hair on end, looking more like apes than humans. (ii) ʿAjjaj Nuwayhid Nuwayhid (d. 1982), a Lebanese writer, translator and memoirist, spent most of his working life in Palestine. Among the scenes of war which I, then a boy of sixteen, can never forget is when I once met a former schoolmate of mine on a Beirut street. He had been a rich student, indeed a spendthrift. At first I failed to recognise him, so emaciated was he and tattered. As soon as he saw me, he rushed up to ask: ‘Are you not so-and-so? Do you not recognise me? I am so-and-so.’ Leaving me no time at all to recover from my shock and pain, he eagerly asked: ‘What is in that bag of yours, food?’ In an instant my friend was gone, wolfing down the sandwich I had been carrying in my bag as he disappeared from view. (iii) Yusuf al-Hakim Hakim (d. 1979) was a noted Syrian jurist, cabinet minister and historian of modern Syria and Lebanon. It became plain that the extreme weakness of their bodies through starvation resulted in feebleness of will and of thinking among the poor, who refrained from burglary and theft, and surrendered instead to their fate. You could see the hungry people who had come to Beirut from Mount Lebanon in search of food lying in the streets awaiting death. But all around them were stores replete with foodstuffs and the houses of the rich and mighty littered with tables heaped full of delicacies. The poor, however, did not dare to attack them or even help themselves to some of the food to stave off their hunger. 116. The Versailles Peace Conference (1919): an Arab perspective Rustum Haidar (d. 1940), born in Lebanon, was an early Arab nationalist and a close associate of Emir (later King) Faisal of Iraq. His memoirs of the Versailles Peace Conference offer a unique and acute personal testimony of momentous events. The incontrovertible truth is this: a righteous cause that has no backing or support is not righteous at all in the eyes of the powerful. If a powerful person cannot convince the possessor of a right through argument he will work hard to bend or break him. But surely right is right irrespective of time or place. Right does not distinguish between the powerful and the weak, between the nobly born and the humble. All are equal in its sight. Right rewards the doer of good for his virtue and punishes the doer of evil for his vice. That is of course when the righteous cause is buttressed by power, and good conscience supports its verdict. Otherwise, when the time comes for action and implementation, that righteous cause turns into a child’s toy, manipulated by politicians in any way they please. This is why President Wilson is trying hard to create for a righteous cause a power that can buttress it when needed, fearing that the

140  p a r t i i, section ii almost empty Burj Square, a banana seller approached from whom we bought some bananas. No sooner had we peeled them than a host of kids fell upon the skins, fighting to get them. We stopped eating and gave them what we had left. The human figure became distorted. We would see children with distended bellies, their hair on end, looking more like apes than humans. (ii) ʿAjjaj Nuwayhid Nuwayhid (d. 1982), a Lebanese writer, translator and memoirist, spent most of his working life in Palestine. Among the scenes of war which I, then a boy of sixteen, can never forget is when I once met a former schoolmate of mine on a Beirut street. He had been a rich student, indeed a spendthrift. At first I failed to recognise him, so emaciated was he and tattered. As soon as he saw me, he rushed up to ask: ‘Are you not so-and-so? Do you not recognise me? I am so-and-so.’ Leaving me no time at all to recover from my shock and pain, he eagerly asked: ‘What is in that bag of yours, food?’ In an instant my friend was gone, wolfing down the sandwich I had been carrying in my bag as he disappeared from view. (iii) Yusuf al-Hakim Hakim (d. 1979) was a noted Syrian jurist, cabinet minister and historian of modern Syria and Lebanon. It became plain that the extreme weakness of their bodies through starvation resulted in feebleness of will and of thinking among the poor, who refrained from burglary and theft, and surrendered instead to their fate. You could see the hungry people who had come to Beirut from Mount Lebanon in search of food lying in the streets awaiting death. But all around them were stores replete with foodstuffs and the houses of the rich and mighty littered with tables heaped full of delicacies. The poor, however, did not dare to attack them or even help themselves to some of the food to stave off their hunger. 116. The Versailles Peace Conference (1919): an Arab perspective Rustum Haidar (d. 1940), born in Lebanon, was an early Arab nationalist and a close associate of Emir (later King) Faisal of Iraq. His memoirs of the Versailles Peace Conference offer a unique and acute personal testimony of momentous events. The incontrovertible truth is this: a righteous cause that has no backing or support is not righteous at all in the eyes of the powerful. If a powerful person cannot convince the possessor of a right through argument he will work hard to bend or break him. But surely right is right irrespective of time or place. Right does not distinguish between the powerful and the weak, between the nobly born and the humble. All are equal in its sight. Right rewards the doer of good for his virtue and punishes the doer of evil for his vice. That is of course when the righteous cause is buttressed by power, and good conscience supports its verdict. Otherwise, when the time comes for action and implementation, that righteous cause turns into a child’s toy, manipulated by politicians in any way they please. This is why President Wilson is trying hard to create for a righteous cause a power that can buttress it when needed, fearing that the

perso nal e xp e rie nce s of war   141 powerful and victorious European Allies will take the place of a once-powerful Germany and claim for themselves what does not belong to them. The Allies would then toy and trifle with the rights of small nations and come to rule the world having no regard to anything but their own self-interest, though the American nation did not spill the blood of its sons and expend billions of its wealth except out of pity for humanity and to support right. Wilson therefore wishes to establish a league of nations to be a sort of superior and just court that upholds right and justice and would stand like a solid barrier against private ambitions and greed. Unfortunately the roots of these ambitions lie very deep in the hearts of those who have been brought up on love of self and who are used to sacrificing others in order to arrive at their own sordid ends. They call for the establishment of right and justice only in order to manipulate them, and for liberty only to use it as a tool to assuage their material greed and to build the structures of their power and tyranny on the skulls of nations unjustly treated. This is why whenever Wilson calls for the need to establish a league of nations, they respond by calling for the need to preserve the ancient balance among nations, a balance manifestly unworkable. Whenever he speaks about freedom of the seas, they speak of control of the seas. Whenever he talks about restraining ambitions and restricting financial demands, they grow ever more arrogant and vicious towards Germany. Whenever he utters any word about liberty for nations and the need for them to be independent in order to serve as useful members of human society they respond by citing ‘rights, interests, historical traditions, benefits’, as though they need to suck the blood of small nations. Whenever they detect in his speeches any allusion to a general peace or to human happiness, they shake their heads in mockery as if to say this is pure fantasy. Is it time for the principles of right to gain their proper place, for justice to achieve its desired object, for humanity to establish a permanent peace where all nations can gain their independence and freedom in happiness? Or will the Versailles Conference be like its predecessor, the Congress of Vienna, whose consequences we have witnessed across a century of time? Only the near future can answer these questions. 117. Two encounters with Anatole France (1844–1924) Rustum Haidar (i) Saturday 22 February 1919 At 4.30 p.m. Anatole France, the famous French writer, came to visit, accompanied by a doctor and his wife and by Jamil Mardam, and remained with the emir [Faisal] for an hour. Anatole France is an old man, with a white beard and a full, white and somewhat long face, well dressed and good looking, with a large receding forehead suggesting nobility of thought, and a reassuring and calm expression suggesting moderation and force of judgement. If you observe him closely you imagine him to be regarding the world from some height, as if he ascends regularly to heaven in order to analyse earthly matters with moderation and objectivity in order to discover its hidden affairs and to probe its secrets, but the matter proves too difficult so he falls into doubt. His works are admirable but will inevitably be perfected by others for he is by nature a sceptic. He said: ‘The gateway to the east is open and will not close before another fifty or sixty years, so do not worry about your nation, and who knows what will happen in the future. The Eastern Question has now begun and will hereafter inevitably proceed to its end. The English

perso nal e xp e rie nce s of war   141 powerful and victorious European Allies will take the place of a once-powerful Germany and claim for themselves what does not belong to them. The Allies would then toy and trifle with the rights of small nations and come to rule the world having no regard to anything but their own self-interest, though the American nation did not spill the blood of its sons and expend billions of its wealth except out of pity for humanity and to support right. Wilson therefore wishes to establish a league of nations to be a sort of superior and just court that upholds right and justice and would stand like a solid barrier against private ambitions and greed. Unfortunately the roots of these ambitions lie very deep in the hearts of those who have been brought up on love of self and who are used to sacrificing others in order to arrive at their own sordid ends. They call for the establishment of right and justice only in order to manipulate them, and for liberty only to use it as a tool to assuage their material greed and to build the structures of their power and tyranny on the skulls of nations unjustly treated. This is why whenever Wilson calls for the need to establish a league of nations, they respond by calling for the need to preserve the ancient balance among nations, a balance manifestly unworkable. Whenever he speaks about freedom of the seas, they speak of control of the seas. Whenever he talks about restraining ambitions and restricting financial demands, they grow ever more arrogant and vicious towards Germany. Whenever he utters any word about liberty for nations and the need for them to be independent in order to serve as useful members of human society they respond by citing ‘rights, interests, historical traditions, benefits’, as though they need to suck the blood of small nations. Whenever they detect in his speeches any allusion to a general peace or to human happiness, they shake their heads in mockery as if to say this is pure fantasy. Is it time for the principles of right to gain their proper place, for justice to achieve its desired object, for humanity to establish a permanent peace where all nations can gain their independence and freedom in happiness? Or will the Versailles Conference be like its predecessor, the Congress of Vienna, whose consequences we have witnessed across a century of time? Only the near future can answer these questions. 117. Two encounters with Anatole France (1844–1924) Rustum Haidar (i) Saturday 22 February 1919 At 4.30 p.m. Anatole France, the famous French writer, came to visit, accompanied by a doctor and his wife and by Jamil Mardam, and remained with the emir [Faisal] for an hour. Anatole France is an old man, with a white beard and a full, white and somewhat long face, well dressed and good looking, with a large receding forehead suggesting nobility of thought, and a reassuring and calm expression suggesting moderation and force of judgement. If you observe him closely you imagine him to be regarding the world from some height, as if he ascends regularly to heaven in order to analyse earthly matters with moderation and objectivity in order to discover its hidden affairs and to probe its secrets, but the matter proves too difficult so he falls into doubt. His works are admirable but will inevitably be perfected by others for he is by nature a sceptic. He said: ‘The gateway to the east is open and will not close before another fifty or sixty years, so do not worry about your nation, and who knows what will happen in the future. The Eastern Question has now begun and will hereafter inevitably proceed to its end. The English

142  p a r t i i, section ii are the closest of nations to you as regards their interests in the east, and are the best in running the affairs of other nations since they attend to their real interests without bothering with appearances. The French, on the other hand, care only about appearances and planting the flag before anything else. It is honour they care about most.’ He added that he had visited Damascus and is very fond of Arabic calligraphy. He advised us to preserve and care for it because it is a most valuable treasure. He then made a joke: ‘Man is distinguished from the apes by Arabic calligraphy. It is this that distinguishes a human being, creating for him a new and special status that must be preserved, for it is by nature an abbreviated calligraphy.’ He was asked: ‘Do you agree with Pierre Loti1 that everything in the east must be preserved as is?’ He replied: ‘The east must preserve its distinct characteristics but this does not mean it cannot benefit from European civilisation. In my view the two ought to be mixed, meaning that major buildings and railway stations and so forth should be built large to suit the requirements of modern civilisation but should be built in the Arabic style.’ He also said: ‘Leconte de Lisle2 has a poem praising the Arabs.’ He added that he regretted that Arabic civilisation had not spread throughout Europe. Were it not for Charles Martel,3 he said, Europe would have been rid of its barbarism. 57

(ii) Wednesday 26 February 1919 We went to St Cloud where Anatole France was living and a long conversation ensued. Anatole France is 76 years old, an elderly man. He looked at the Emir with admiration, saying how lovely his dress was and how charming was the harmony between his dress and his visage. ‘This is poetry,’ he added. Then he talked about the Arabs and their love for trading and said that this was the reason why they did not vanish once their dominion ended, unlike the Romans who were soldiers and cared nothing for trade, and thus vanished from history when their military dominion came to an end. Every time Anatole France looked at the Emir he would refer to the Thousand and One Nights, and how widely that work had spread in Europe – as if Arabic civilisation, unknown to even great scholars, has no other text to represent it but the Thousand and One Nights! So let us erect a statue in honour of its compiler or compilers! Eastern imagination and the exotic tales of the Nights have made westerners, even the writers among them, imagine present-day conditions in the east to be similar to those in the Nights.

1 Pierre Loti (1850–1923): French novelist. 2 Leconte de Lisle (1818–94): French poet. 3 Charles Martel (d. 741): Frankish leader and victor over the Arabs at the Battle of Tours in 732.

he re tics   143

H eretics 118. Fanaticism Maʿruf al-Rusafi How indeed can liberty of thought and speech be given free rein among a people and in an age when everything has its being in the name of religion? The state, the government, the caliph, the king, the emir, the vizier, the qadi, the military commander, the army – all are tinged with Islam, and dyed with a religious dye from which there can be no escape. It is not in the interest of any of these figures that ideas be freely expressed, especially where religion is concerned. Instead, all men of power, especially the leader, do all they can to maintain that Islamic tinge exactly as it has always been. They watch out for any defection or deviation on the part of the population as a whole, and use all their power and might to suppress it. This state of affairs continues to exist till the present day. Indeed it is even more severe and distressing. None of us today can write what writers of the Sira1 recorded in the age when it was being composed, let alone argue against what they narrated. Consider Egypt, with all its distinguished men of learning and literature – not a single one of them can be free in his ideas if he lectures or writes except on subjects unrelated to religion. For example, Dr Muhammad Husayn Haykal wrote a book on the Sira in which he added nothing to what earlier writers had written. That is because he is not free to write or speak as he pleases. How indeed can he be free when he sees al-Azhar looming over him, its turbans as it were wrapped up in stupid obstinacy, watching him with a wrathful eye in case he deviates from its path, and ready to pounce on him and stir up no end of trouble, backed by the vast majority of the population? There is no doubt that, whenever such a state of affairs exists, hypocrisy is never very far away, accompanying it at all times and places. How wonderful are those lines of verse by Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri: 58

In addressing you, I am being a hypocrite, and may God forgive my error. But my religion, like the religions of all mankind, is hypocrisy.

1

Sira: Muhammad’s biography.

144  p a r t i i, section ii

Fo reig n la nds 119. England in the 1840s Ahmad Faris al-Shidyaq (d. 1887), of Lebanese origin and widely travelled, was a writer, journalist and public servant. He is now widely regarded as one of the most original intellects of the Arab Nahda, or cultural renaissance, of the nineteenth century. (i) A village in Cambridgeshire (excerpts) It is customary in England for a small town to be located near their villages in which is sold what is needed by way of food, drink, clothing and furniture. The peasants visit that town once a week to purchase what they need. It also happens that a person would pass by at night, blowing his horn, to announce that he was heading to that town, so that whoever wishes to purchase an item would delegate him to do so, for a fee. Occasionally, travelling salesmen pushing carts pass by, selling items like coffee, tea and sugar, or else they carry samples which they later deliver to customers from their shops. Through all these diverse and very laborious means, a person acquires what he needs for sustenance. As for seafood, crabs and eels, the tastiest one can eat is what they call a lobster, but this cannot be found at all. Indeed fish is available only once every three months or so. All their fish is tasteless, except for a type they call salmon, which is tasty but not when compared to the fish of our own country. They put it on ice at night and display it for sale by day, and it often happens that a fish has lived longer after being fished than before. Whoever visits London and sees all those great shops, public works and riches imagines that all the English are equally rich and happy. But this is far from being the case. In fact English villagers are like the villagers of Syria, or even more wretched. Their poverty is such that they leave their children without baptism, being unable to pay the priest the required fee. In that village I encountered many unbaptised children though they are members of the established church, which mandates baptism. The church does not permit burial in its graveyards to any unbaptised person, treating him instead like a suicide. These poor wretches rarely eat meat. Most of their food is bread and cheese. The village butcher slaughters a sheep or cow only once a week and sells only half a pound or a quarter of a pound of meat at any one time. When a sheep is slaughtered, he does not skin it and cut up its meat except the following day; if it is a cow, two or three days later. If a peasant is relatively well off, he buys a piece of meat on Saturday, cooks it and eats it cold for the rest of the week. Heating food is not customary among them. They prefer to eat it cold and stale for days on end rather than heat it. When I asked the woman with whom I was lodging to heat some food that had remained from my lunch, she barely understood me even after much explaining and describing, with amazement on both sides. In winter, a person cannot leave his house to take in some fresh air because all the roads are muddy. Whole days may be spent without leaving home. One finds no horses, donkeys or mules for hire in villages – no transport except one’s clogs. Throughout my stay in that illomened village [Cambourne, near Cambridge] I had no other concern but to provide myself with means of livelihood. I would order some cotton garments from Cambridge, nuts and candy from Royston and beer from London by rail. Having eventually found this expensive I stopped these orders and thus suffered from acute stomach-aches and a weakness in my knees I had never felt before.

f ore ign l ands   145 (ii) English social classes (excerpts) Before I speak of English manners and customs, I ought to begin with a brief introduction in order to set aside any ambiguity that may later appear in my account. To proceed. At this point in time, England is divided into five classes. The first class is that of princes, ministers, nobles and others of high station, to which one can add the bishops. The second are the gentry who live from their lands and possessions and not from practising any profession, but do not have a title. The third are scholars, judges and lawyers, to which one can add churchmen and international merchants. The fourth are shopkeepers and scribes, who earn their living through their professions or through money-changing but without needing to beg. The fifth and largest class are craftsmen and workers, to which one can add the peasants. The customs of the first class are somewhat different from the second but between them and the last class no comparison is possible. The customs of the third and fourth classes are about equal except in rare instances. The second class aspires towards becoming the first with respect to honours and power but is linked to the other classes with respect to ethnic origins and familiarity. Predominant among all classes is love of country and boasting of their accomplishments in industry, of their regulations and of their obedience to the law. Since the last class constitutes the great majority, they are the ones whom one can most accurately describe as Britons or English, since they have maintained their age-old customs and have not mixed with the other classes. The first trait that a foreigner notices among them is their total indifference, indeed antipathy, towards him. No one pays any heed to his neighbour and everyone cares only for himself. Each craftsman practises his own craft throughout his life and has no ambition to learn any other. It may be argued that because of this character trait, the English state has entrenched its power, since the subjects express no objections against their rulers nor any desire to know why their masters judge or rule the way they do. This is why rebellions are very rare among them, unlike the people of France. They are the most obedient of nations to their rulers. One can also argue that their poverty prevents them from worrying about anything other than earning their living. Whatever the case may be, their poverty is the cause of the prosperity of the state and serves to increase its wealth, saving the state the cost of maintaining a large army. And just as most Frenchmen imagine all foreigners in their country to be Spaniards, especially if dark in colour, so most Englishmen imagine all foreigners to be French, whether dark or black in colour, whether wearing a fez or a conical fool’s cap. They stare at a foreigner then proceed to mock him, especially if he cannot pronounce English properly. And yet they themselves cannot pronounce it properly since most of their speech is slang and ungrammatical. (iii) Cambridge and Oxford (excerpts) These are two English towns each of which contains about twenty colleges and two thousand students. Cambridge teaches geometry, mathematics and theology while Oxford teaches literature, law, logic and philosophy, though their logic is unlike the logic of the ancients in its reasons and argumentation. Studying there is possible only with a considerable outlay of money so only the sons of grandees and the wealthy attend these colleges, especially Oxford. There you will see a student cocking his head and strutting about as if planning to rule China or India. Most students care only for horse-riding and pleasure and pay no attention to learning. When exam time comes, a student knows what subjects he will be examined on by his tutor, since these subjects are limited in number, so he endeavours to learn them. If he recites

146  p a r t i i, section ii them well, he obtains a degree where it is stated that he has attained the level of mastership. Each college has endowments which support the clergymen attached to it, called ‘fellows’. Some are non-clergy. Whoever achieves distinction in one science or another is entitled to a salary from the college endowment. Thus some of them receive two hundred pounds a year, others more. But they are required to be unmarried. If they marry, they no longer receive a salary, so they only marry once they have obtained another salary from serving in a church. Each town has a collection of Arabic books but Oxford has a larger collection and its library contains a total of about three hundred thousand books. (iv) Praiseworthy English customs (excerpts) Among these customs is their lack of fanatic zeal where women are concerned. If a husband is absent then returns home to find a man conversing with his wife, he will not club her or give her a tongue-lashing before he ascertains the reason for the man’s visit. However, if he discovers that she is unfaithful, he shows no mercy. A wife will often be heard to say to a guest, in her husband’s presence, ‘Take this, my dear’ or ‘Hand me that, my dear’. Going out at night without a lantern is perfectly safe for one who walks or travels at night. Travelling by night is safer in England than travelling by day in our own country. You will see a boy walking the streets at night, fearing nothing. A young girl hardly ten years old will walk at midnight and passing by a policeman you would imagine her conversing with a relative. She asks him for help or directions and he answers her, sometimes even walking with her. A policeman has no right to enter anyone’s house except with the permission of his department and for a serious cause. I believe that this lack of awe and fear among them, from a young age, is what grants Europeans their sense of boldness and self-assurance. In the east, fear of rulers, of the night and of religious leaders is instilled by mothers in the hearts of the young, together with fear of demons, evil spirits, ghosts and so forth. Among other praiseworthy habits is the care the English take with what they are entrusted with. If you hand over a sheet of paper to one of them, he will return it to you years later exactly as he received it and may even remove some dirt from it and return it clean. He will then say in apology: ‘I was bold enough to remove that stain from it and hope I have not done any wrong.’ Added to this is their respect for letters. Anyone who receives a letter by mistake will not open it but will endeavour to find the recipient and deliver it to him. Office holders will not accept any favouritism or bribe paid by someone to advance his interests. If a person is convicted of bribery he is treated like a thief and punished. Yes, offices here are often conferred through favouritism, not merit, but this is a disease in all kingdoms. Then again, a simple soldier will never be promoted into the officer rank even were he to mount atop a thousand enemy fortresses and show more courage than his own army’s commander. He remains a private from the day he is inducted to the day he exits the army or life itself, whereas an officer remains an officer from the day he climbs down from his father’s shoulders to the day he is carried to his grave. It is as if people are organised like the various body members: each has a function beyond which it cannot go. The head remains a head even if afflicted with senility, deafness and muteness while the foot remains a foot even if it saves the head and the entire body besides. But the positive side of all this is that their secretary for foreign affairs, for example, has no right to interfere in any matter with the secretary for home affairs while the speaker of parliament has no right to dictate to any seller how he sells his goods. In our country, however, a judge or bishop can dismiss a just claim simply because the claimant omitted a word while speaking. A policeman can arrest anyone he pleases. A

f ore ign l ands   147 patriarch can excommunicate any member of his community so that no relative or fellow townsman can any longer speak to him or trade with him. To whom can we then complain? (v) English marriage customs (excerpts) Among their marriage customs is that a girl will only marry a man of equal age or else two or three years older. This is a mistake. It is obvious that when a woman reaches the age of forty, she lacks the power and energy of a man of similar age, especially if she has produced many children. It is true that women here do not age quickly: a woman of thirty here looks like a woman of twenty in our country. This is also true of their men. In our country, a man of fifty is not censured for marrying a woman of twenty but this is very rare here unless there is an overpowering reason, for example if the man is nobler and richer than the woman and she desires to share his honour and wealth, for these two characteristics are held in greatest esteem by the English, particularly if the upbringing of children is taken to account. In this case, no objection is raised if the husband is a doddering old man since the young wife knows that her heat will soon consume his coldness and she will then inherit his wealth. If a man proposes marriage to a woman then changes his mind for a reason other than a legal one, he is required to pay her a huge indemnity. A father can force his daughter to marry whomever he wishes provided she is below the age of adulthood, that is twenty-one years of age. Thereafter, he has no legal right over her. A male can contract a marriage at fourteen, a female at twelve. When a woman marries, her entire property is transferred to her husband but she can incur a debt in his name and he is forced to pay back her debt. A man cannot marry his deceased wife’s sister. When I asked someone about the reason for this prohibition, which is not founded on communal interest, I argued thus: ‘If this prohibition is found in the Torah, many other things are also prohibited in the Torah which Christians have declared licit. So why did you cling only to this prohibition?’ He answered: ‘Communal interest dictates that a single man should not inherit two ­trousseaus from the same household.’ I said: ‘But the poor marry without a trousseau or inheritance.’ He answered: ‘Yes, but the law here is framed for the interests of the high and mighty.’ (vi) English children’s upbringing (excerpts) The upbringing of children is better here than elsewhere. They wash their infants in cold water every day if the infant is strong or in lukewarm water if weak. Nor do they swaddle them to the point of immobility as is done in our country but merely tie them up in a sort of girth. When six months old they accustom them to eating light food with milk. Once a child is a year old he will eat anything. Nor will a child defecate in his clothes or become blue-black from crying as is the case with us. But I have often seen mothers giving beer or other alcoholic drinks to their children to get them to sleep. They take them along to crowded areas and even to places where fights are breaking out. But one good aspect of their upbringing is that they address their children in normal speech, and not in lisping baby talk as is done in our country. Indeed they will tell them tales that they cannot possibly understand, thus accustoming them from their early years to adult speech. It seemed to me that English children are more intelligent and astute than our children, but the opposite is true of their adolescents. In the English countryside a peasant woman brings up only her eldest child; the rest are brought up by their older siblings.

148  p a r t i i, section ii (vii) English table manners (excerpts) At a dinner party, the guests are seated at the table and the lady of the house at the head. She then carves thin slices of meat and gives the plate to the maid who places it before the guest. Even if you obtain five such slices you will not have had your fill. Eating a lot of bread is considered by them a sign of barbarity. I dined once at the house of a grandee. Sitting at table, I took the napkin and placed it on my lap. The piece of bread was hidden in the napkin and fell off without my noticing. I was too shy to ask for another, since they thought I had become anglicised in their country. When we rose from table I found that the piece of bread had stuck to the sole of my shoe. It was then that I recalled the story of the beggar who knocked on the door of a miser. The miser threw him a piece of bread, just like the one sticking to my shoe. The beggar took the piece of bread, pondered it, then knocked again. The miser said: ‘We gave you so why don’t you leave?’ The beggar replied: ‘You gave me this medicine but did not tell me how to use it.’ If there are two or three kinds of food at table, for example roast beef or chicken, the lady will ask what you prefer. If you partake of one kind, your right of intercession to the other kind lapses. Only rarely will the lady offer you both kinds. Nor can she offer you anything unless she first asks your opinion of it. A guest cannot stretch forth his hand to the wine bottle to pour some in his glass, but has to wait for the waiter or lady to offer it. It pains me to say that I have often seen the host carve meat for his guests and, thinking the portion excessive, place the excess on his own plate. I would see other guests merely pretending to eat, and being satisfied with a portion that a child would barely find sufficient. Three-quarters of the food would then remain uneaten. When cooked meat turns cold, they do not mind eating it for a whole week. This is why the food at the table is plentiful in proportion to the number of guests and the quantities they consume. One day I asked my landlady: ‘Please tell me in all frankness, am I an excessive eater?’ ‘No’, she replied, ‘but rather the opposite.’ I said: ‘I have been invited to dinner several times and noticed that all the guests combined ate less than I did.’ She replied: ‘A dinner invitation here is a mere formality, since the guests eat at home before they arrive.’ I was very surprised to learn this and pondered the difference with our own customs. In our country, the more the guests eat the happier is their host because he thinks they like his food. At the home of a grandee, a servant passes by the guests with drinks and asks what they would like to drink. They might drink beer first then a little wine. When dinner is over, the ladies retire to a side room while the men remain seated at table. It is then that drinks pass around freely. It may happen that the men remain at table drinking for an hour or two. The ladies retire to avoid the embarrassment resulting from a guest drinking too much and saying something improper. At a large dinner party, they always begin with boiled fish. Soup is simply a broth of pepper. At such dinners, I have seen potatoes served in silverware platters, with napkins of finest linen beneath. I could not understand the reason for such an elaborate presentation of a mere potato. The humble and commonplace remains thus however presented, and a dog remains a dog even in a golden collar. If they gather in one room then move to the dining room a man will take the arm of another man’s wife and seat her at the table while the other man takes the arm of the first man’s wife. If a woman remains behind unescorted this causes her embarrassment.

f ore ign l ands   149 (viii) English and French prostitutes (excerpts) A common proverb among the French goes as follows: Paris is the paradise of women, the purgatory of men and the hell of horses. Given the relations between men and women, three-quarters of the inhabitants of Paris engage in extra-marital affairs while the remaining quarter are legally married or else unmarried. I got this from a reliable source. An English prostitute knows herself to be unfree and knows that people know it, so does not bother to seek their respect, nor ask them to be deferential towards her. A French prostitute, on the other hand, thinks that the mere fact that people have chosen to buy her services entitles her to their respect and deference since they cannot do without her or without the benefits she provides. Imagine, dear reader, how Paris appears in those long winter nights, how many night spots are packed full of men and women, how many tables are weighed down with food and drink, how many beds shake and rattle, how many bedchambers hum and buzz, how many sides are pressed together, how many breasts are being sucked, how many sinews are vibrating!

150  p a r t i i, section ii

Po litica l w r it ings : e dit or ials 120. Who owns the ‘weapon’ of democracy? Joseph Samaha (d. 2010) was a widely admired leftist Lebanese journalist and political commentator. It used to be said once upon a time, accurately enough, that socialism was transformed into an instrument of Russian foreign policy. Today, it can be argued, accurately enough, that democracy is an instrument of US foreign policy. This means that spreading democracy, with its attendant arsenal of concepts having to do with human and minority rights, is not a goal pursued for its own sake. Democracy becomes such a goal only when it agrees with US national interests, but is abandoned as soon as any contradiction arises between it and these interests. What Washington has failed to grasp sufficiently is that this instrument has become blunted since the fall of the Berlin Wall. In other words, it was a very effective instrument in the context of the Cold War in its European arena but its efficacy has declined with the victory of the ‘free world’ and the collapse of the Warsaw Pact. In central and eastern Europe and in what was formerly the Soviet Union, the clamour for democracy was joined to the clamour for nationalism. Nations seeking national liberation borrowed the democratic slogan as being the ‘ideology’ of the great world rival to the power they regarded as ‘imperialist’. We could add that these nations had reached a level of general development which allowed them, as we saw, to undergo an experience of this kind. Following the fall of the wall, the major transformations in the mainstream socialist parties and the achievement of independence, it was noted that a return to moderate leftist and democratic slogans was the dominant trend. This was combined with great eagerness to join the EU or NATO. The USA deserves credit for helping to liberate western Europe from Nazism, and for playing a decisive role in saving eastern Europe from totalitarian regimes whose former centre of gravity, the Soviet Union, had once borne the major burden in defeating Nazism. From the above one may conclude that democracy in these countries leads in a very natural manner to a strong relationship with the USA, even though this relationship is marred by limited conflicts of interest which are nevertheless kept in check by the broader framework of alliance. The world did indeed change in the early nineties. Though political democracy and economic liberalism scored resounding victories, the material conditions in this new era largely diminished the efficacy of the democratic slogan as an instrument of US foreign policy. Why? In the underdeveloped world, and in the Arabic and Islamic world in particular, there is a clear conflict between national demands and US policy. This inevitably leads to a lessening in Washington’s emphasis on democracy in favour of advocating, indeed pressing systematically for, a widening of the horizons of economic liberalism. Accordingly, democracy is no longer a US demand in these lands. Instead of becoming a bridge towards a positive relationship with the US, as in eastern Europe, it has changed into confrontation, being linked to the nationalist, and sometimes social, demand. A rapid look at what is happening in the world today confirms this impression. In Beirut, for instance, the US ambassador, Vincent Battle, demands the confiscation of Hizbollah’s monetary assets but adds, generously enough, that this should not take place ‘at once’. He insists on this even though his demand finds no echo in the country and even though the

po litical writings: e ditorial s   151 option of embracing resistance enjoys, democratically speaking, decisive majority support. One could almost accept Battle’s demand if he in turn would agree to one condition: to guarantee maximum democratic support for that demand. This would mean one of two things: either Washington comes to respect the wishes of the Lebanese, or it allows them, as soon as possible, to participate in elections. . . in the USA! Everything else is simply a diktat and has nothing to do with freedoms. On the Kabul–Islamabad axis, it is impossible to convince anyone that the US does not prefer stability at the expense of democracy. The experience of Parviz Musharraf is significant. The stability referred to is that which allows Washington to carry out its policies, but not one that allows Pakistanis and Afghans the chance for peace and quiet, which would enable them more effectively to determine their own destinies. You will not find a single US official who will advocate democracy for the Palestinians if this leads to any sort of harm whatever to Israel. Perhaps the most embarrassing example is taking place now in Doha. The protesters against the meeting of the World Trade Organization raise a single principal slogan: ‘What do we want? Democracy!’ This is as it should be since the WTO wants to settle the affairs of the world by means of discussions wrapped in utmost secrecy. The modus operandi of the WTO grants representatives from most of the world’s states a voice less influential than that granted to rich states. A few years ago, it made stirring news when the mere disclosure of a project being prepared by the WTO led to its cancellation and its withdrawal from discussion, in expectation of better times. This is a very important example, and it is so because it raises doubts about the most fundamental principle in US foreign policy: globalised liberalism. It does so through using what was supposed to have been the twin sister of liberalism, namely democracy. These, and many other examples that took place in the last decade, bear witness to a shift of the democratic weapon from one hand to another. Democracy’s merger with other national, economic, social and cultural demands raised by entire nations has led to a clear shrinkage in the ability of the USA to use it as an instrument of foreign policy. This was true before 1990, but has become even more true in 2001. 121. Hatred of America Joseph Samaha Why do Arabs and Muslims hate America? This question has often been asked in the US and elsewhere. Its echoes have reached Europe, where anyone who has expressed a critical view of US policy is dubbed ‘primitive’. The question arose not so much from Bin Laden’s speech but rather from the ‘positively neutral’ manner in which that speech was received by wide popular circles. Some Americans argued: ‘They hate us because we are better than they are.’ They considered that their way of life, their freedoms, their prosperity and their power constituted the reason for the hostility towards them, a fanatical hostility that grips simply because of the way they are. The conclusion is that the hater is sick and the sick should receive shock treatment. If shock treatment does not work, it would be necessary to crush any desire to give practical expression to that hostility. Others assigned responsibility in a different manner. Some maintain that US policy is relatively responsible for any emotions it excites and that, therefore, some cosmetic revisions to it should be undertaken. But they add that effective revisions should include other

po litical writings: e ditorial s   151 option of embracing resistance enjoys, democratically speaking, decisive majority support. One could almost accept Battle’s demand if he in turn would agree to one condition: to guarantee maximum democratic support for that demand. This would mean one of two things: either Washington comes to respect the wishes of the Lebanese, or it allows them, as soon as possible, to participate in elections. . . in the USA! Everything else is simply a diktat and has nothing to do with freedoms. On the Kabul–Islamabad axis, it is impossible to convince anyone that the US does not prefer stability at the expense of democracy. The experience of Parviz Musharraf is significant. The stability referred to is that which allows Washington to carry out its policies, but not one that allows Pakistanis and Afghans the chance for peace and quiet, which would enable them more effectively to determine their own destinies. You will not find a single US official who will advocate democracy for the Palestinians if this leads to any sort of harm whatever to Israel. Perhaps the most embarrassing example is taking place now in Doha. The protesters against the meeting of the World Trade Organization raise a single principal slogan: ‘What do we want? Democracy!’ This is as it should be since the WTO wants to settle the affairs of the world by means of discussions wrapped in utmost secrecy. The modus operandi of the WTO grants representatives from most of the world’s states a voice less influential than that granted to rich states. A few years ago, it made stirring news when the mere disclosure of a project being prepared by the WTO led to its cancellation and its withdrawal from discussion, in expectation of better times. This is a very important example, and it is so because it raises doubts about the most fundamental principle in US foreign policy: globalised liberalism. It does so through using what was supposed to have been the twin sister of liberalism, namely democracy. These, and many other examples that took place in the last decade, bear witness to a shift of the democratic weapon from one hand to another. Democracy’s merger with other national, economic, social and cultural demands raised by entire nations has led to a clear shrinkage in the ability of the USA to use it as an instrument of foreign policy. This was true before 1990, but has become even more true in 2001. 121. Hatred of America Joseph Samaha Why do Arabs and Muslims hate America? This question has often been asked in the US and elsewhere. Its echoes have reached Europe, where anyone who has expressed a critical view of US policy is dubbed ‘primitive’. The question arose not so much from Bin Laden’s speech but rather from the ‘positively neutral’ manner in which that speech was received by wide popular circles. Some Americans argued: ‘They hate us because we are better than they are.’ They considered that their way of life, their freedoms, their prosperity and their power constituted the reason for the hostility towards them, a fanatical hostility that grips simply because of the way they are. The conclusion is that the hater is sick and the sick should receive shock treatment. If shock treatment does not work, it would be necessary to crush any desire to give practical expression to that hostility. Others assigned responsibility in a different manner. Some maintain that US policy is relatively responsible for any emotions it excites and that, therefore, some cosmetic revisions to it should be undertaken. But they add that effective revisions should include other

152  p a r t i i, section ii spheres in the Arab and Islamic worlds. Most prominent among such spheres is the cultural, since schools, curricula, the media, books, caricatures and dominant religious feelings do nothing but disseminate negative sentiments. When some became aware that freedoms are in a miserable shape, they resorted to conspiracy theory. We are now told that Arab regimes channel the hatred of their own citizens ‘outwards’ in order to evade their hostility, although that ‘outwards’ has never done any wrong to these peoples. Based on this, the suggestion is made that regimes should be pressured to exercise stricter censorship and that this should be accompanied by a media campaign that targets hearts (and minds) and attempts to win them. The British prime minister Tony Blair was the principal advocate of this approach and tried to exercise his own special magic by flashing his smile at anyone who ventured to oppose him. The overall conclusion reached by the western ‘establishment’, of all shades, is ‘Arabs and Muslims hate us because of a deficiency in awareness: get to know us and you will love us’. This conclusion deliberately ignores the fact that the Arabs were never more ‘American’ in policy, in economic and in security matters, than they are today. The powers that hold decisive influence in the region, whether in government, the army or the economic sphere, are all overwhelmingly disposed to have the strongest possible ties with the west and the USA. Indeed one can go further and say that Washington, with all its influence in its own and in international institutions, is the single most powerful actor in the internal life of most Arab countries. Given this reality, a reality of total appendage, some reactions are bound to be negative. These reactions are in most cases neither systematic nor coherent. They are expressed in the form of convulsions that soon subside and do not develop into ‘material power’. Nothing in the region balances the ‘theoretical’ hatred of America more than the strength of being an appendage to it and the support shown for its interests. There is no reason to hate America, no convincing reason, if by America is meant leadership in culture, science, or technology; or if what is meant is the system of freedoms (now threatened?), the separation of powers, or the goodness of the common people; or if what is meant is the civil rights movement, academic openness and an astonishing vitality. Indeed, one might assert that all these elements need to be taken into account if one is to construct a critical vision of America as policy, as foreign policy in particular, and specifically as foreign policy towards the Arabs (with apologies to Latin America!). Hatred was never at the heart of Arab relations with the USA. For confirmation, one need only review the experiences of the Egyptian, Algerian, Palestinian and other revolutions and movements that found themselves in confrontation with European imperialism. Conflict was a historical phenomenon that has grown, matured and expanded. At all stages, it was the result of choices made by America. Any official American definition of US interests in the region leads to a simple conclusion: the gap is huge between these interests and any definition of the lowest possible Arab regional and national interests. Herein lies the problem that no missionary campaign can solve, nor can it be answered by resorting to identifying a widespread Arab sickness called an instinctive hatred of America. It is sufficient for an Arab to become conscious of his/her interests to find that that the USA hates them. Accordingly, the US must curtail its astonishment, with its pretence at innocence, when it discovers that not every Arab politician is an Ahmad Chalabi,1 not every intellectual is a Fouad Ajami,2 not every businessman is . . . 59

1 Ahmad Chalabi (b. 1944): Iraqi politician widely considered an American collaborator. 2 Fouad Ajami (1945– 2014): Lebanese-American academic often seen as closely aligned with the American right.

po litical writings: e ditorial s   153 122. Modern Syria’s literary and national renaissance (excerpts) Antun Saadeh (d. 1949) was the Lebanese founder of the Syrian Social National Party and an important influence on Arabic literary modernism. This essay was first published in 1942. How often have historians and scholars glorified Greece for the splendour of its legends, the most important of which are in fact Syrian in origin. For example, the myth of the Ugaritic goddess Anat’s revenge against Mot and how she scattered his remains in the fields to make them fertile was taken over, like so many other Syrian myths, almost verbatim into Greek mythology. And yet the world accuses us of having borrowed these myths from the Greeks! In fact, the world is indebted to us for glorious philosophical views but claims that we are indebted to Greece alone. But once gifted Syrian men of letters examine these rich spiritual treasures, they will grow ever more certain of the truth of their views and the greatness of their historical roots, and of the power of those authentic philosophical and artistic sources of inspiration to be found in the very being of their nation. When these sources are fully understood, they will enable those men of letters to create a noble, beautiful and eternal literature. Such a literature, that emanates from the very core of our Syrian being, and is based upon a new and authentic attitude to life, the universe and art, will produce the psychic, literary and artistic renaissance for which we long with all our being. Therefore, our enlightened men of letters should undertake a pilgrimage to the abode of the Syrian gods, and return carrying with them a literature that enables us to discover our psychic verities as embedded in life’s greater truths, verities that our ancient systems of thought had grappled with in our myths, verities that occupy a place in human thought and emotion transcending all other thoughts and emotions. I shall now address all the poets of Syria: come let us raise high a flaming torch before this nation that is stumbling in darkness, a torch that lights up our reality, our aspirations and our wholesome existence. Come let us build for our nation palaces of love, wisdom, beauty and hope by making use of the history of our Syrian nation, its talent, the philosophy of its myths and its teachings that deal with the major topics of human existence. Come let us adopt a view of life, the universe and art in light of which we can resurrect our great and beautiful reality from where it lies buried – a reality that does not see in love only rosy cheeks and breasts and graceful waistlines, nor sees in youth mere lips pressed against lips, nor eyes burning with lust. Rather, let it be a reality that sees love as beautiful souls seeking sublime aims, for the sake of which they must endure vast hardships, made more bearable by a unity of souls in a unity of emotion and purpose. It is the sort of love where, when one mouth touches another, one soul is being poured into another and one soul tells the other: I am with you in victory or in martyrdom. It is a love that sees youth as depicted in the Syrian myth of the god Baal, a huge power that seeks to kill the leviathan of vice, meanness and ugliness. This beautiful thought, deeply embedded in our Syrian life and traditions, enables us to capture the meaning of these lines of verse by the immortal Syrian poet al-Maʿarri: Youth is a flame. If you set it a task, Let it hasten to do it, before Time puts out that flame. Come let us adopt a novel attitude to life, the universe and art, a new understanding of existence and its problems, where we discover the reality of our psyche, our aspirations, our ideals.

154  p a r t i i, section ii Come let us adopt freedom, duty, order and strength, not because they are the slogans of a social-political party but because they are the symbols of our thinking and emotions and have now become the slogan of our national renaissance. Let us create a genuine literature that has real roots in ourselves and in our history, and in light of our authentic attitude to life, the universe and art. We would thus create a living literature worthy of the world’s respect, worthy of immortality. 123. A Marxist analysis of the term ‘civilisation’ (excerpts) Mahdi ʿAmil (d. 1987) was a Lebanese academic and Marxist theoretician. In Ibn Khaldun, the term hadara, now commonly translated as ‘civilisation’, is derived from hadar. Thus, hadara, as a type of social life, begins with the transition from a Bedouin to a hadari [urban, settled] form of life, that is the transition from a tribal to a class society, with all that this implies of settlement, distribution of societal activities, division of labour and the appearance of a state. Let us consider the following passage from Ibn Khaldun: History, in reality, is an account of human association, which is in fact the sum total of what all humans create or produce (ʿumran al-ʿalam), together with the diverse circumstances that befall the nature of this productive activity (ʿumran) such as life in the wilderness, sociability, solidarities and the various kinds of domination by some men over others; what issues from this by way of sovereignty and states with their ranks; and that which human beings undertake as regards their activities and pursuits, their earnings, livelihoods, the sciences and crafts, as well as everything else that befalls this productive activity (ʿumran) by its very nature. To understand this passage requires long and careful reflection, given its dense and scientific exactitude, such as we perceive in modern social thought. But those who translated Ibn Khaldun into French did not find any cognate for ʿumran except the term ‘civilisation’, a term we subsequently translated back into Arabic as hadara. However, we should emphasise that arriving at a scientific definition of the concept of civilisation must entail thinking about the term ʿumran, and not about the term translated from French or English, that is hadara. At the recent Kuwait conference on Arab civilisation,1 it was obvious that all participants, in their understanding of the concept of civilisation, had in mind the term as translated. In other words, what they had in mind is the bourgeois understanding of the term, and not the concept of ʿumran. Accordingly, civilisation, in their view, was confined to its purely abstract and idealistic definition that restricts it to solely spiritual production. The difference between hadara and ʿumran is quite clear, even from the lexical point of view. Hence the phrase ‘the sum total of what all humans create or produce (ʿumran al-ʿalam)’ in Ibn Khaldun brings us face to face with the material aspect of social life, quite unlike the term ‘civilisation’, since this material aspect becomes apparent only when we define scientifically the concept of civilisation. Thus the ʿumran of the world turns out to be a social relationship whereby humans come to possess their existence in a specific historical manner. This materialist understanding of civilisation is 60

1

The Kuwait conference, entitled ‘The Crisis of Arab Civilisational Development’, was held in April 1973.

154  p a r t i i, section ii Come let us adopt freedom, duty, order and strength, not because they are the slogans of a social-political party but because they are the symbols of our thinking and emotions and have now become the slogan of our national renaissance. Let us create a genuine literature that has real roots in ourselves and in our history, and in light of our authentic attitude to life, the universe and art. We would thus create a living literature worthy of the world’s respect, worthy of immortality. 123. A Marxist analysis of the term ‘civilisation’ (excerpts) Mahdi ʿAmil (d. 1987) was a Lebanese academic and Marxist theoretician. In Ibn Khaldun, the term hadara, now commonly translated as ‘civilisation’, is derived from hadar. Thus, hadara, as a type of social life, begins with the transition from a Bedouin to a hadari [urban, settled] form of life, that is the transition from a tribal to a class society, with all that this implies of settlement, distribution of societal activities, division of labour and the appearance of a state. Let us consider the following passage from Ibn Khaldun: History, in reality, is an account of human association, which is in fact the sum total of what all humans create or produce (ʿumran al-ʿalam), together with the diverse circumstances that befall the nature of this productive activity (ʿumran) such as life in the wilderness, sociability, solidarities and the various kinds of domination by some men over others; what issues from this by way of sovereignty and states with their ranks; and that which human beings undertake as regards their activities and pursuits, their earnings, livelihoods, the sciences and crafts, as well as everything else that befalls this productive activity (ʿumran) by its very nature. To understand this passage requires long and careful reflection, given its dense and scientific exactitude, such as we perceive in modern social thought. But those who translated Ibn Khaldun into French did not find any cognate for ʿumran except the term ‘civilisation’, a term we subsequently translated back into Arabic as hadara. However, we should emphasise that arriving at a scientific definition of the concept of civilisation must entail thinking about the term ʿumran, and not about the term translated from French or English, that is hadara. At the recent Kuwait conference on Arab civilisation,1 it was obvious that all participants, in their understanding of the concept of civilisation, had in mind the term as translated. In other words, what they had in mind is the bourgeois understanding of the term, and not the concept of ʿumran. Accordingly, civilisation, in their view, was confined to its purely abstract and idealistic definition that restricts it to solely spiritual production. The difference between hadara and ʿumran is quite clear, even from the lexical point of view. Hence the phrase ‘the sum total of what all humans create or produce (ʿumran al-ʿalam)’ in Ibn Khaldun brings us face to face with the material aspect of social life, quite unlike the term ‘civilisation’, since this material aspect becomes apparent only when we define scientifically the concept of civilisation. Thus the ʿumran of the world turns out to be a social relationship whereby humans come to possess their existence in a specific historical manner. This materialist understanding of civilisation is 60

1

The Kuwait conference, entitled ‘The Crisis of Arab Civilisational Development’, was held in April 1973.

po litical writings: e ditorial s   155 found in Ibn Khaldun but not among the conference participants. We find it in the concept of ʿumran, a concept far richer, scientifically, than the concept ‘civilisation’. This Ibn Khaldunian understanding of history, that is to say of history whose subject is human association, which in turn is the ʿumran of the world, if transferred into modern scientific terminology, is found to be congruent with the Marxist field of understanding. In light of this scientific thinking, the scientific nature of Ibn Khaldun’s thought is revealed. Scientific thinking was absent at the Kuwait conference, and hence there was no discussion of the materialist basis of the problem, namely, the relations of production in Arab societies. ‘Arab civilisation’ therefore was set adrift, and its crisis was allowed to drift away from the materialist basis of its specific historical existence.

156  p a r t i i, section ii

M uslim la w 124. A modern Muslim jurist on punishments in Muslim sacred law (excerpts) ʿAbdullah al-ʿAlayli (d. 1996) was a Lebanese radical Muslim cleric and activist and a distinguished scholar of the Arabic language. I would like to advance an opinion that no Muslim jurist has ever advanced before. I have been led to this view despite the manifest clarity of the relevant sacred texts, and after having assembled and analysed the largest possible number of Qurʾanic verses and Prophetic sayings, comparing them systematically in order to arrive at their rationale and hence the wisdom behind them. This has led me to a new view of hudud [Qurʾanic punishments], both civil and criminal. I am confident that the great majority of Muslims will not accept my opinion, but my excuse is the wisdom lurking behind these punishments, expressed in the Qurʾanic verse {The prospect of retaliation saves lives, O you who are possessed of minds}[Q.2: 179]. This means that punishment is not any form of revenge or a venting of one’s anger, but is a means of protecting the life of the community. Punishment is thus above all else a public right. The conclusion I reached is that the punishments specified in Muslim sacred law are not those that are literally specified but rather their ultimate end. This does not mean that the cutting off of hands for theft is not a principle or that it should not be applied, but rather that that particular punishment is meant to be the ultimate deterrent, once all other deterrents have failed. The same goes for flogging. I do not wish to be accused of being arbitrary or high handed in my interpretation. I simply assert that this view of mine is comparable to what is frequently practised in the law courts by a judge who, in pronouncing punishment for a particular crime, disregards the specific punishment and orders a fine to be imposed rather than a jail term, in view of the circumstances of a particular case. I arrived at my view by considering the spirit of the Qurʾan as exemplified in the following verses regarding punishments: 1. {The prospect of retaliation saves lives, O you who are possessed of minds}[Q.2: 170]. 2. {Harm is requited by a similar harm. But whoso forgives and makes peace, his reward shall be with God} [Q.42: 40]. 3. {He who saves a soul, it is as if he has saved the whole of mankind} [Q.5: 32]. 4. {Except those who repent before you gain mastery over them} [Q.5: 34]. 5. {Let them pardon, and let them forgive. Do you not want God to pardon you?} [Q.24: 22]. 6. {We decreed . . . retaliation for wounds. Whoso freely forgoes this right, it shall be counted as expiation for him} [Q.5: 45] We should note that whenever the Qurʾan mentions punishments it immediately follows this up by encouraging pardon. This is also noticeable in the pronouncements of the Prophet where he repeatedly emphasises averting punishment with doubt. To explain my view further I am arguing that applying the specific punishment should only take place in cases where the crime is committed again and again, wilfully and with premeditation. As for applying the punishment in all cases, this to begin with does not conform to the spirit of the Qurʾan, which as we saw above makes retaliation a means to protect lives and spread public order, not to fill societies with disfigured people, one with a hand cut off, another with a leg amputated, a third with one eye removed, a fourth with a slit ear or nose

musl im l aw   157 and so forth. Is it rational to believe that Muslim law aims at making a thief, for instance, suffer the burden of a temporary lapse for the rest of his life, even were he to become the purest of the pure? I now come to the most explosive issue: there is no stoning in Islam. This was a position that some Muslim sects, for example the Kharijites, also held in the past. What is now current in law as regards stoning for adultery is based entirely on Prophetic sayings. But it is also a principle of law that any Prophetic saying which clearly contradicts the Qurʾan, no matter how well attested, cannot be considered binding or normative. Here are some Qurʾanic verses on the subject: 1. {As for your women who commit adultery, call four among you to witness against them. If they so witness, confine them to their homes until death overtakes them or else God provides another way for them} [Q.4: 15]. This concerns free women. 2. {Once in legal wedlock, and if they commit adultery, upon them falls half the punishment of free and married women} [Q.4: 25]. This concerns concubines. Now if the punishment of a free married woman were stoning until death, it would have been proper for the Qurʾan to mention this because of its horror. As for arguing that Prophetic sayings can abrogate the Qurʾan, this would be a reversal of the criteria for deriving laws. But even if we grant what jurists say, what is to be done with married concubines if their punishment is half that of free women? How does one split this alleged stoning in half? My general conclusion is as follows. Where punishments as a whole are concerned, the sacred law does not intend their literal application but only their ultimate or extreme violation. These punishments are only to be applied when all else is despaired of.

158  p a r t i i, section ii

A pho rism s f or our t im e s 125. Aphorisms for our times Ibrahim al-Kuni (b. 1948) is a Libyan writer and novelist. • He who performs good deeds is noble; he who renders thanks for good deeds is nobler. • If law makers knew of the harm done to the human community by those who deny having received favours, they would prescribe the most severe of punishments for such denial. • The world is constantly in conflict with the madman because the madman exposes the madness of the world. • A tree does not become a virgin in the dead of winter if it does not rid itself of its covers. • Through the wind, trees return from exile. Through the wind, trees pass into exile. • Winter is a sanctuary which trees can only enter naked. • The will is a rabid dog. If it cannot bite the world, it bites its owner. • A young child sees its reflection in water because water too is a young child. • Longing for one’s homeland increases with the approach of death. • Wealth was created to be a slave but people turn it into a master. • We would not become slaves to wealth were it not that wealth promises us freedom. • Inherited wealth is happy only when it escapes the clutches of heirs, then lies down alongside its original owner in the grave. • The eye is a mirror of the soul, but the eye for the soul is not an eye. • Envy: the revenge of the weak in spirit. • The beauty of the desert is a metaphysical beauty. • Do you wish to know something about metaphysics? Go to a desert. • Islands shiver with fright, fearing the invasion of water; oases shiver with fright, fearing the invasion of sand. • Gold is a metal that admits no rust because it was created to cause rust in the heart of those who cherish it. • Skulls regard us with an eyeless gaze because they regard us with the eyes of eternity. • A lover weeps in order to cause laughter. • A real novel is not only written from its last line; it must also be read from its last line. • People cannot bear obscurity so they become celebrated. They cannot bear celebrity so they hide. • Hidden justice threatens evil people with the severest of punishments because it realises that manifest justice is incapable of punishing them. • How can water not belong to the kingdom of heaven when it is an entity that is tasteless, colourless and odourless? • How do we adduce a proof for the existence of a substance that is tasteless, colourless and odourless? • We have contempt only for those things that are indispensable. • The victor is vanquished by his victory; the vanquished is victor by his defeat. • The desert is a homeland in touch with eternity. • Through water, air or fire, nature declares its anger. • Nature is at odds with the strong. • Nature grants respite but never forgets. • We err in giving nature its due but nature never errs in giving us our due.

ap horisms f or our time s   159 • • • • • • • •

Nature puts to right in the soul of man what the nature of man destroys in the soul of man. Blessed is he with whom wisdom has intervened to put an end to the conflict with himself. We never find Satan walking by himself. Who can be certain that he ever met Satan not disguised as a man? Gold is tested by fire; man is tested by authority. Things always look clearer when seen from below. Time that runs in a clock is not time, but the mere shadow of time. Using an expression until it becomes a cliché is a sin; ignoring an expression until it dies is a crime. • How can we trust a person who cares not what happens to trees in autumn? • We ought not to befriend anyone unless they are befriended by nature. • Destiny creates our paradise but we create our own hell.

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ind ex o f a ut ho r s

Index of Authors

Al-ʿAbbas ibn al-Ahnaf, 25 ʿAbd al-Masih al-Kindi, 98–9 ʿAbd al-Qahir al-Jurjani, 95 ʿAbdan al-Isfahani, 25 Al-Abi, 91–2 Abu ʿAbd al-Rahman al-Sulami, 86–7 Abu al-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri, 10–12, 143, 153 Abu ʿAli al-Hasan ibn ʿAbdullah, 12 Abu Bakr al-Khwarizmi, 26 Abu Bakr ibn al-ʿAllaf, 16–17 Abu Firas al-Hamdani, 13 Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi, 64–5, 93–4 Abu Muhammad al-Matrani, 24 Abu Nuwas, 19 Abu Shama, 46, 80–1 Abu Talib al-Makki, 88 Abu Zayd al-Qurashi, 93 Abuʾl Baqaʾ al-Rundi, 14–15 Abuʾl Fath Kashajim, 20, 21 Abuʾl Fida, 36 Abuʾl Hasan al-Anbari, 15 Abuʾl Husayn al-Haruni al-Zaydi, 36 Abuʾl Qasim al-Tanukhi, 22 Abuʾl Qasim ibn Tabataba, 21 Abuʾl Shays, 23 Ahmad ibn Yusuf ibn al-Daya, 55–9 Ahmad Zaki Safwat, 59–60 al-ʿAlayli, ʿAbdullah, 156–7 ʿAmil, Mahdi, 154–5 Amin, Ahmad, 134 al-ʿAqqad, ʿAbbas Mahmud, 138

Al-Babi, 17–18 Bahaʾ al-Din al-ʿAmili, 32–3 Bashshar ibn Burd, 26, 28 Al-Buhturi, 3–4, 26 Dik al-Jinn, 27 Fakhr al-Din al-Razi, 38–9, 40–2 Farabi, 61–2, 96–7 al-Fariʿah, 11 Ghars al-Niʿmah al-Sabi, 51–2 Ghazali, 39–40, 69, 88–90 Haidar, Rustum, 140–2 al-Hakim, Yusuf, 140 al-Hallaq, Al-Budayri, 123–4 Al-Hutayʾah, 7–8 Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr, 104–7 Ibn al-Athir, 72, 73–5 Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ, 31–2 Ibn al-Muʿtazz, 5–6, 20, 21, 22, 23, 27, 95 Ibn al-Rumi, 25, 27 Ibn al-Tathriya, 21, 25 Ibn al-Tiqtaqa, 60 Ibn ʿAsakir, 50–1 Ibn Durayd, 24–5 Ibn Habib, 59–60 Ibn Hamdun, 97 Ibn Hazm, 63–4, 67–8 Ibn Khaldun, 75–7, 81–3 Ibn Khallikan, 49–50

166  i n d e x o f au th o rs Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya, 99–100 Ibn Qutayba, 65–6, 94 Ibn Saʿid al-Maghribi, 43 Ibn Wasil, 45–6 Ibn Zurayq al-Baghdadi, 18 Ibrahim ibn al-Mahdi, 26 Ibrahim ibn Harma, 22 Ikhwan al-Safaʾ, 84–5 Imam al-Haramayn al-Juwayni, 37 Jahiz, 29–30, 70–2 al-Khalidi, ʿAnbara Salam, 132–3, 139–40 al-Kuni, Ibrahim, 158–9 Kuthayyir ʿAzza, 26 al-Maghut, Muhammad, 113–15 al-Malaʾika, Nazik, 120 Al-Marzubani, 93 Masʿudi, 62–3, 72 Mistghanmi, Ahlam, 120–2 Muhammad ibn Yahya al-Suli, 94–5 Muqatil ibn ʿAtiyya, 11 Musa, Salama, 135 Al-Mutanabbi, 24 Najm, Ahmad Fuʾad, 111–13 Nuwayhid, ʿAjjaj, 140 Al-Qadi al-Rashid ibn al-Zubayr, 46–8 Qays ibn Dharih, 26

Al-Raghib al-Isfahani, 20, 59–60 Raja’ ibn al-Walid, 22 al-Rusafi, Maʿruf, 116, 143 Saadeh, Antun, 153–4 al-Safadi, 50–1 al-Sakakini, Khalil, 139 Samaha, Joseph, 150–2 Al-Sanawbari, 24 Al-Sariyy al-Raffaʾ, 20 al-Sayyab, Badr Shakir, 117–19 Al-Shamardal ibn Sharik, 23 Al-Sharif al-Radiyy al-Musawi, 20 Al-Sharishi, 52–3 ‘Shibl al-Dawla’, 11 al-Shidyaq, Ahmad Faris, 144–9 Al-Shumayshati, 23 Al-Subki, 73 Tabari, 101–3 Tamim ibn al-Muʿizz al-Fatimi, 4–5 Tamir, Zakariyya, 128–30 Taqyiddin, Saʿid, 136–7 al-Tikirli, Fuʾad, 125–8 Turtushi, 77–8 ʿUmar ibn Abi Rabiʿa, 9 Yaqut, 78–9 Al-Zajjaji, 66 Zakariyya ibn Muhammad al-Qazwini, 43–5 Ziadeh, May, 131–2