The case of rhyme versus reason: Ibn al-Rūmī and his poetics in context 9004130101, 2004052333, 5625675996, 9789004130104

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THE CASE OF RHYME VERSUS REASON

BRILL STUDIES IN MIDDLE EASTERN LITERATURES SUPPLEMENTS TO THE JOURNAL OF ARABIC LITERATURE The series Studies in Arabic Literature has now expanded its purview to include other literatures (Persian, Turkish, etc.) of the Islamic Middle East. While preserving the same format as SAL, the title of the expanded series will be Brill Studies in Middle Eastern Literatures (BSMEL). As in the past, the series aims to publish literary critical and historical studies on a broad range of literary materials: classical and modern, written and oral, poetry and prose. It will also publish scholarly translations of major literary works. Studies that seek to integrate Middle Eastern literatures into the broader discourses of the humanities and the social sciences will take their place alongside works of a more technical and specialized nature. EDITED BY

Suzanne Pinckney Stetkevych VOLUME XXVIII

THE CASE OF RHYME VERSUS REASON IBN AL-R—M^ AND HIS POETICS IN CONTEXT

BY

ROBERT C. McKINNEY

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON 2004

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data McKinney, Robert C. The case of rhyme versus reason : Ibn al-RåmÊ and his poetics in context / by Robert C. McKinney. p. cm. — (Brill studies in Middle Eastern literatures, ISSN 1571-5183 ; v. 28) Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 90-04-13010-1 (hardcover) 1. Jal§l al-D§n R§m§, Maulana, 1207-1273—Criticism and interpretation. I. Title. II. Series. PK6482.M39 2004 891’.5511—dc22 2004052333

ISSN 1571-5183 ISBN 90 04 13010 1 © Copyright 2004 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill Academic Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910 Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. PRINTED IN THE NETHERLANDS

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments ........................................................................ General Notes ............................................................................ Preface ........................................................................................

ix xi xiii

PART I THE POET AND HIS TIMES

Chapter 1 Ibn al-Rùmì, The Poet ........................................ 3 1–A Birth, Family, Education, Intellectual Orientation, Death ............................................................................ 3 1–B The Poet’s Persona as Constructed, Interpreted and Preserved by Later Generations in the Akhbàr .......... 14 1–C The Poet’s Reception .................................................. 19 1–D The “Greek Thesis” .................................................... 26 1–E The Case of Rhyme vs. Reason (Opening Statement) .................................................................... 34 Chapter 2 Ibn al-Rùmì, The Times ...................................... 38 2–A Introduction .................................................................. 38 2–B The Translation Movement ........................................ 41 i. Background ............................................................ 41 ii. The Role of Logic ................................................ 51 iii. The Translation of the Organon ............................ 61 2–C The MunàΩarah ................................................................ 66 2–D Passive Reception of the Hellenic Legacy vs. Active and Creative Appropriation ............................ 81 2–E The Immediate Literary and Intellectual Environment ................................................................ 85 i. The Patrons .......................................................... 85 ii. The Fora for the MunàΩaràt and other Intellectual Exchanges .......................................... 99 iii. Conclusion—The Age in Review ........................ 116

vi

contents PART II THE POETRY—CONTEMPORARY INFLUENCES ON THE POET’S THEMES AND STYLISTICS

Chapter 1 The Argument ...................................................... Chapter 2 Al-'Aqqàd’s Assertions .......................................... 2–A The Worship of Life .................................................. Rebuttal ........................................................................ 2–B The Love of Nature .................................................... Rebuttal ........................................................................ 2–C Personification .............................................................. Reservations .................................................................. Chapter 3 The Influence of the Times on the Themes of Ibn al-Rùmì’s Poetry .............................................................. 3–A The Subjects Treated in His Poems ........................ 3–B The Poet’s Keen Interest in Word Derivation (al-Ishtiqàq) and Fondness for Puns and Wordplay ... 3–C Arguing both Sides of an Issue; Making the Weaker Cause the Stronger; Making the True False and the False True .................................................................... 3–D The Literary MunàΩarah ................................................ Chapter 4 Contemporary Influences on the Poet’s Stylistics .................................................................................. 4–A Introduction .................................................................. 4–B The Phenomenon of Istiqßà" al-Ma'ànì and the Resulting Characteristic of ˇùl al-Nafas ...................... i. Definition of Istiqßà" al-Ma'ànì and “Precedents”? .......................................................... ii. Descriptions of the Technique by Medieval and Modern Critics ........................................................ iii. The Related Issue of ˇùl al-Nafas ........................ iv. Istiqßà" al-Ma'ànì, Examples .................................... v. The Motivation of the Phenomenon, Introduction .............................................................. a. In the Interests of Clarity ................................ b. The Poet’s Poor Opinion of his Audience’s Literary Acumen ................................................ c. Poets Sometimes Rewarded by the Line ........

123 133 133 134 163 163 173 176 178 178 185

190 204 225 225 226 226 228 233 237 254 255 258 260

contents

4–C 4–D 4–E

4–F 4–G 4–H

d. To Honor and Dignify the Patron ................ e. To Fend off Charges of 'Ujmah ........................ f. To Leave Nothing that could be Said Unsaid, and the Related Issue of If˙àm (Qat' ) al-Khußùm .................................................. g. The Encroachment of the Epistolary Arts .... The Syllogistic Character of Certain of his Poems, or Sections of his Poems .............................................. The Poetic Movement from the General to the Specific (Mujmal Mufaßßal ) ............................................ The Relationship of the Poet’s Style to the Nascent Art of Prose Composition (al-Inshà", al-Taràsul, al-Kitàbah) ...................................................... The Poet’s Argumentative Discourse Strategies ........ The Organization of his Qaßìdahs ................................ A 3rd/9th Century MunàΩarah: The Case of Rhyme vs. Reason (Closing Argument) ......................

vii 261 263

266 277 278 285

290 311 335 356

PART III THE POEM—THE MICROPOETICS OF A MACRO-QAÍÌDAH

Chapter 1 The Background ...................................................... 1–A The Reception of Poem no. 444, The Mamdù˙, Stylistic, Artistic and Formal Features of the Poem ................................................................................ 1–B The Panegyric Qaßìdah Form and the Structure of Poem no. 444 ................................................................ 1–C The Ideology of Praise .................................................. Chapter 2 The Nasìb .................................................................. Chapter 3 The Madì˙ ................................................................ Chapter 4 The Khàtimah ............................................................ 4–A The Ra˙ìl ........................................................................ 4–B Concluding Madì˙ .......................................................... 4–C The Dedication and Benediction ................................ 4–D Epilogue .......................................................................... Chapter 5 Conclusion ................................................................

363

363 376 392 406 429 511 511 529 535 548 550

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contents

Appendix A “Map” to Qaßìdah no. 444 .................................. Appendix B Arabic Texts .......................................................... Works Cited .................................................................................. Index of Ibn al-Rùmì’s Poems Cited ........................................ General Index ............................................................................

562 567 599 621 626

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book originated as a doctoral dissertation in the department of Near Eastern Languages and Cultures at Indiana University and it is with pleasure that I acknowledge my indebtedness to my advisor, Suzanne Stetkevych, who directed my work with thoughtful guidance, insightful criticism and gentle discipline from the very moment the project was conceived. I also wish to thank her for accepting my book for publication in the Brill Studies in Middle Eastern Literatures series. I have also benefited from the comments and criticism of Paul Losensky, James Monroe and Jaroslav Stetkevych and wish to extend them my heartfelt thanks. I wish I could thank the late Wadie Jwaideh for his comments and criticism, and for the interest he always showed in my life and work over the quarter-of-acentury that I had the good fortune to know him. I want to thank my editors at Brill Academic Publishers, Ms. Gera van Bedaf and Mrs. Trudy Kamperveen, for their patience and cooperation in publishing matters. I thank too Sandra Gamal and my friend Neil MacDonald here in Cairo for helping me to compile my indices. I want to thank my family for their unquestioning love and continued support. My greatest debt, however, is to my wife and fellow traveler, Bridget McKinney, for her warm and unfailing support and encouragement, her patience and understanding, and her inspiration, without which I most certainly would not be where I am today.

GENERAL NOTES TRANSLITERATION SYSTEM AND NOTE TO TRANSLATIONS AND POETIC CITATIONS

For the transliteration of Arabic names, terms and bibliographical citations, with the exception of certain common place-names such as Baghdad, Basrah and Kufah, I have used the Library of Congress system with minor modifications. For the transliteration of poetic passages, I have used a more phonetic system that better represents the elision of vowels in certain environments in order more faithfully to reproduce the metrical pattern. All translations are mine, unless otherwise noted. My translations are generally as faithful to the original as sense permits. All citations from Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn are from the Cairo edition of Óusayn Naßßàr. Variations in other editions are occasionally noted. Generally, the numbering of poems in Naßßàr’s edition corresponds fairly closely to the numbering of poems in the edition of 'Abd alAmìr 'Alì Muhannà, so that the reader may locate the poems cited in this study in either edition. Poems after no. 1657 in the sixth and final volume of Naßßàr’s edition, however, are incorrectly numbered and for this reason all poems after no. 1657 will be given two reference numbers: the first, followed by a superscript 2, refers to the number of the poem in Naßßàr’s edition, and the second, in parentheses, refers to the number of the poem in 'Abd al-Amìr 'Alì Muhannà’s edition.

PREFACE

This book is devoted to an examination of the poetic contribution of the very prolific and versatile 'Abbàsid poet, Ibn al-Rùmì (d. 283/896) and it consists of three parts. Part I, The Poet, is concerned with Ibn al-Rùmì himself, his literary persona, and his reception among both medieval and modern critics. It also explores the literary and intellectual currents prevailing in his times with the aim of providing the background for Part II. Part II, The Poetry, traces the influences in Ibn al-Rùmì’s distinctive poetic style, as also in his themes, of that unique period of “floraison” during which he lived. Part III, The Poem, analyzes his celebrated poem written to commemorate the quashing of the Zanj rebellion, during the course of which historical, bio-bibliographical and literary sources from within the Arabic tradition, as well as studies of various classical and Renaissance literatures, and anthropological studies of ritual and ancient Arabian institutions, are consulted in order to elucidate both the immediate intent of the poem and its deeper ritual message, form and structure. The value of the present study resides in two main points. Firstly, it brings together in a single monograph all of the numerous arguments that have been advanced concerning the extent to which Ibn al-Rùmì was influenced by the Greek philosophical and physical sciences. Direct influence is categorically denied, but indirect influence, though more difficult both to prove or to refute, would seem likely in the poet’s case. Some of the arguments that have been advanced are rebutted, some are partially accepted, and others are acknowledged as sound. In addition, new channels of influence formerly uncharted are also examined. What emerges from this survey of those thematic and stylistic characteristics of the poet’s oeuvre that are deemed unique is a picture which represents, in numerous ways, a competing conception of the poetic art. It is a picture which provides a glimpse into an exciting and rather fluid period of Arabic literary history, in which the boundary between poetry and the prose arts was becoming increasingly permeable. This was due to the rise of a class of what Ibn al-Nadìm called the “secretary-poets (al-shu'arà" al-kuttàb),” but particularly to

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preface

the prevalence and importance of the phenomenon known as the munàΩarah. This term originally denoted a theological disputation, with its own increasingly codified rules and methods, but the format was soon adopted by all intellectual disciplines. Considerable attention is devoted to the munàΩarah because it is the phenomenon which perhaps best typifies the cultural and intellectual life of the 3rd/9th century. It brought together people of all religious and political persuasions, all ethnic backgrounds and all walks of life, including, of course, poets and chancellery secretaries like Ibn al-Rùmì, and it acquainted participants and observers alike with each other’s methods and systems of argument, beliefs, concepts and values, and thus facilitated that “osmosis” that has been posited is responsible for the indirect influence of disparate cultures, one on the other, that occurred at this time. These munàΩarahs preoccupied Ibn al-Rùmì’s contemporaries and were of paramount importance in promoting the dissemination of Greco-Roman rhetorical theory and practice, and in the development of the nascent prose arts, particularly of the argumentative and persuasive varieties. It is known that Ibn al-Rùmì participated in these disputations, as did many of his patrons, and their influence on the development of his own poetic style is examined. Secondly, this study presents an exhaustive analysis of a full qaßìdah in 282 lines with a view to establishing the inner “logic” of the poem. The extreme length—by no means atypical—of this panegyric qaßìdah, however, precludes the analysis of more than this one major poem, though many shorter poems and representative sections from numerous other longer poems will be cited, either translated or paraphrased, and discussed during the course of the study. Although the celebrated poem chosen for this study does not exhibit the eminently ludic aspect of the poet’s personality and oeuvre, due largely to the seriousness of the occasion of its composition and the eminence of the men to whom it was dedicated, it nonetheless well exemplifies the poet’s penchant for the literary phenomenon known as istiqßà" al-ma'ànì, or exhaustive pursuit of poetic conceits, and concomitant †ùl al-nafas, or long-windedness. The poem also manifests very sophisticated organization, observable in a “two-dimensional” patterning and in a multitude of complex interrelationships which lend the poem “perspective.” The resulting towering architectonics of the poem offers a unique opportunity for the researcher to pursue an elucidation of “the micro-poetics of a macro-qaßìdah.”

PART I

THE POET AND HIS TIMES

CHAPTER ONE

IBN AL-RÙMÌ, THE POET

1–A Birth, Family, Education, Intellectual Orientation, Death The poet Abù al-Óasan 'Alì ibn al-'Abbàs ibn Jurayj1 al-Rùmì, popularly known within the tradition simply as Ibn al-Rùmì, was born, as Ibn Khallikàn notes, “shortly after sunrise on Wednesday morning, the 2nd of Rajab, in the year 221 A.H., in the quarter of Baghdad known as al-'Aqìqiyyah, in the street called al-Khatliyyah, in a house facing the palace of 'Ìsà ibn Ja'far ibn al-Manßùr.”2 The sources are curiously unanimous in their concurrence on these details of his birth.3 As for his childhood and early environment, his studies, his family, and even most aspects of his career and means of livelihood, they are remarkably silent, but the exiguous historical materials may be supplemented by details garnered from his dìwàn, which in many respects is, as al-'Aqqàd noted, a “truthful mirror” reflecting many aspects of the poet’s life.4

1 The poet’s grandfather’s name is reported variously as Jurayj, Jurjis, Jùrjis and Jùrjìs. 2 Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt al-A'yàn wa-Anbà" Abnà" al-Zamàn, ed. I˙sàn 'Abbàs, 8 vols. (Beirut: Dàr Íàdir, 1977), 3:360–61. The corresponding date is given as June 21, 836 A.D. by Said Boustany (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì: sa vie et son oeuvre [Beirut: Publications de l’Université Libanaise, 1967], 99). The palace of 'Ìsà ibn Ja'far ibn al-Manßùr was on the left bank of the Tigris in the Karkh suburb, on the northern strand of the harbor where the 'Ìsà Canal disembogued into the Tigris (Guy Le Strange, Baghdad during the Abbasid Caliphate [London: Oxford University Press, 1924], 85–87, 184; see also Map IV). The name al-'Aqìqiyyah is probably a misreading of al-'Atìqah, meaning 'the Ancient’ Suburb, and also known as the Ancient Market (al-Sùq al-'Atìqah). This suburb was located in this same area, and was perhaps named thus because before the Round City of al-Manßùr was built a village had existed here (ibid., 90). Indeed, al-Marzubànì gives the name of the quarter in which the poet was born as al-'Atìqah (al-Marzubànì, Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", ed. F. Krenkow [Beirut: Dàr al-Jìl, 1991], 128). 3 Astrology saw an unprecedented cultivation during the early 'Abbàsid period and it is tempting to see a relationship between the requirements of horoscopy (“projected” backwards in this case) and the curious precision with which the date of the poet’s birth is recorded. See note 208 in Chapter 3 of Part III. 4 'Abbàs Ma˙mùd al-'Aqqàd, Al-Majmù'ah al-Kàmilah li-Mu"allafàt al-Ustàdh 'Abbàs

4

part i – chapter one

From the poet’s name, it is clear that his grandfather was Christian, and although the name Rùmì in medieval Arabic had come to be used for Christians in general, whether Greek or Latin,5 it is clear from numerous indications in his verse that he was of Byzantine descent.6 His father was a mawlà of the great-grandson of the 'Abbàsid caliph al-Manßùr, 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Ìsà ibn Ja'far ibn al-Manßùr, i.e., he was a client under his patronage. The mawlà relationship strongly implies that the poet’s father embraced Islam at the hands of this patron, having been a slave whom 'Ubayd Allàh manumitted on the occasion, and that he assumed the name 'Abbàs as a token of his debt to the dynasty and family. The poet’s mother’s name was Óasanah bint 'Abd Allàh al-Sijzì;7 she was of Persian origin, as he also tells us on numerous occasions,8 but curiously, as alMàzinì noted,9 the poet does not generally boast of his Persian ancestry.10 Whether or not Ibn al-Rùmì’s Byzantine, or more generally, Greek, heritage influenced the themes and stylistics of his poetry has been the subject of an impassioned, albeit often farcical, controversy that has raged in Egypt and the Levant since the beginning of this century; the pertinent arguments from this debate will

Ma˙mùd al-'Aqqàd, vol. 15, Taràjim wa-Siyar: Ibn al-Rùmì wa-Abù al-'Alà" (Beirut: Dàr al-Kitàb al-Lubnànì, 1980), 11. 5 Le Strange, Baghdad during the Abbasid Caliphate, 207. 6 The poet boasts of his Byzantine ancestry on numerous occasions. See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, ed. Óusayn Naßßàr et al., 6 vols. (Cairo: Ma†ba'at Dàr al-Kutub, 1973–81), poem no. 11972 (1677), lines 5 and 92, 6:2267 and 2272; ibid., poem no. 13022 (1780), line 82, 6:2425; ibid., poem no. 12462 (1724), line 13, 6:2356; ibid., poem no. 14292 (1907), lines 18–19, 6:2555; ibid., poem no. 1524, line 8, 5:1960; ibid., poem no. 1489, line 2, 5:1921; ibid., poem no. 334, line 15, 1:401; ibid., poem no. 988, lines 43–44, 3:1216. 7 Al-Marzubànì, Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128. 8 See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 13022 (1780), line 83, 6:2425; and ibid., poem no. 12462 (1724), line 13, 6:2356. 9 Al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, Óayàtuhu wa-Shi'ruh (Beirut: al-Maktabah al-Óadìthah li-l-ˇibà'ah wa-l-Nashr, 1987), 60–61. 10 Even in an elaborate qaßìdah dedicated to a descendant of the illustrious Persian Nawbakht family, the famous Mutakallim and Shiite apologist Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl ibn 'Alì, Ibn al-Rùmì boasts not of their shared Persian heritage, but of his own descent from Byzantine emperors (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 11972 (1677), line 5, 6:2267). The same is true of a poem of admonition ('itàb) addressed to the poet’s patron alQàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 988, lines 43–44, 3:1216), a distinguished member of the Àl Wahb family of viziers, secretaries and scholars which was also of Persian origin (see Y.A. Sàmarrà"ì, Àl Wahab min al-Usar al-Adabiyyah fì al-'Aßr al-'Abbàsì [Baghdàd: Ma†ba'at al-Ma'àrif, 1979], 10).

ibn al-rùmì, the poet

5

be summarized in the discussion of the poet’s style. It seems certain, however, that Ibn al-Rùmì did not know Greek,11 and his knowledge of Persian probably did not extend beyond that generally current among his contemporaries in the very cosmopolitan Baghdad of the 3rd/9th century.12 The tragic circumstances of Ibn al-Rùmì’s personal life have been reconstructed elsewhere and need not detain us here except to mention briefly that his dìwàn contains elegies composed on the occasions of the deaths of his mother, only brother, wife, three young sons, and his maternal aunt and uncle.13 This fact most likely contributed to that ominous aura of ill-fated destiny which attends his literary persona, as elaborated by later generations. Al-Màzinì commented in this regard that the poet’s ill luck seemed to extend into the present, observing that ten years previously he had written a number of articles on the poet, and had scarcely finished the first or possibly the second when he broke his leg in a place where fractures do not normally occur. He observed further that al-Shaykh Mu˙ammad Sharìf Salìm was sent into retirement after he had finished editing the first volume of the poet’s dìwàn, and that the owner of al-Maktabah al-Tijàriyyah broke his leg after publishing selections from his poetry.14 Of his education we know next to nothing. From the caption accompanying an early poem in the poet’s dìwàn, we learn that he attended a local kuttàb, or elementary boys-school, in his youth.15 In

11 A.K. Julius Germanus, “Ibn-Rùmì’s Dichtkunst,” Acta Orientalia Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae, 6 (1956): 226. 12 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 86–7. 13 The fact that his dìwàn contains no elegy on his father would seem to support the contention that his father died when he was still very young. There is some confusion concerning the number of his children. His dìwàn actually contains four elegies to sons (though in only two of these elegies are the sons named) and presumably for this reason Boustany contends that he had at least four children (Boustany, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Ibn al-Rùmì”). In his celebrated elegy on his son Mu˙ammad, however, he describes the boy as his middle son (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 456, 2:624, lines 4, 18, and 35–37). Whatever the truth is, his family life was undeniably tragic. 14 Al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 59–60. In the same vein, Kàmil Sa'fàn conjectured that Ibn al-Rùmì’s ill-luck was the cause of al-'Aqqàd’s imprisonment, and that Óusayn Naßßàr was relieved of his duties at the Academy of Arts because he had undertaken the edition of his dìwàn (Kàmil Sa'fàn, Qirà"ah fì Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1986], 17). Indeed, numerous such stories can be heard to this very day. 15 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 418, 2:562; also cited by Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì,

6

part i – chapter one

addition, we know that he studied under Mu˙ammad ibn Óabìb (d. 245/859–60), the famous genealogist, philologist and transmitter of poetry. On the authority of the poet’s friend, 'Alì ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn al-Musayyab, we learn that Ibn Óabìb was a friend of the poet’s father and that he “singled 'Alì [i.e., Ibn al-Rùmì] out in preference to others for his favors because of the intelligence he recognized in him. Of him [i.e., Mu˙ammad ibn Óabìb], 'Alì [i.e., Ibn al-Rùmì] reported that ‘whenever he noticed something extraordinary and deemed it good, he would say to me ‘O Abù al-Óasan, fix this in your heart (da' hàdhà fì tàmùrik).’”16 Al-'Aqqàd maintains that we learn from the Kitàb al-Aghànì that Ibn al-Rùmì transmitted the poetry of al-Óusayn ibn al-Îa˙˙àk from the famous grammarian Tha'lab, thus indicating a teacher-pupil relationship between the two.17 Upon closer examination of the citation,18 however, the transmitter is referred to merely as 'Alì ibn al-'Abbàs, which is more probably one 'Alì ibn al-'Abbàs ibn Abì ˇal˙ah, an authority frequently cited by Abù al-Faraj, with or without mention of his grandfather, in his rather lengthy treatment of the biography of Ibn al-Îa˙˙àk.19 In another citation from the same biography adduced by al-'Aqqàd as evidence of the poet’s educational background, his full name (i.e., 'Alì ibn al-'Abbàs al-Rùmì) is given as a transmitter to one Qutaybah, whose full name al-'Aqqàd gives as Abù Rajà’ Qutaybah ibn Sa'ìd ibn Jamìl al-Thaqafì (d. 240/854–55),20 and this

110, who adds that this school was probably frequented “par les enfants d’une classe aisée ou noble,” an inference he makes from two references in the poet’s dìwàn to his classmates at this school (ibid.). Boustany also conjectures that the curriculum at this school must have been anything but rudimentary, judging from the technique exhibited in the piece of satire Ibn al-Rùmì composed while still a student there (ibid., 111). On the institution of the kuttàb, and on elementary education in the palaces, see A˙mad Shalaby, History of Muslim Education (Beirut: Dàr al-Kashshàf, 1954), 16–26. On the different classes of schoolteachers, see al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Bayàn waal-Tabyìn, ed. 'Abd al-Salàm Mu˙ammad Hàrùn, 4 vols. 2nd ed. [Cairo: Maktabat al-Khànjì, 1960], 1:250–52. 16 Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 20 vols. (Cairo: Maktabat 'Ìsà al-Bàbì al-Óalabì, 1936), 18:112. The redactor of Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn has preserved a number of the poet’s own notes in the margins, in a number of which he ascribes various lexicological explanations to Mu˙ammad ibn Óabìb. See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 13022 (1780), 6:2424, note to line 71. 17 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 79. 18 Abù al-Faraj al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, ed. Mu˙ammad Abù al-Fa∂l Ibràhìm et al., 24 vols. (Cairo: al-Hay"ah al-Mißriyyah al-'Àmmah li-l-Kitàb, 1992–94), 7:174. 19 See, for example al-Aghànì, 7:169, line 18; and ibid., 7: 160, line 4. 20 Al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 7:175, lines 4–5; cited by al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 79.

ibn al-rùmì, the poet

7

would seem to lend some credence to the assertion that he studied under this famous Traditionist, though the name al-Rùmì may have been a copyist’s interpolation. It seems likely, however, that the poet did at least know the renowned grammarians al-Mubarrad (d. 285/898–99)21 and Tha'lab (d. 291/904),22 and it is certain that he

21 Ibn al-Rùmì dedicated an elaborate 98–line qaßìdah to al-Mubarrad in the form of a plea that he intercede on his behalf with Íà'id ibn Makhlad and his son, Abù 'Ìsà al-'Alà", and convince them of the virtues of the 282–line dàliyyah he had dedicated to them (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 584, 2:751–57; the dàliyyah is translated and analyzed in Part III of this study). Boustany suggests that he may have studied with the celebrated grammarian (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 116). Gruendler too asserts that he “pursued further education” with him (Beatrice Gruendler, Medieval Arabic Praise Poetry: Ibn al-Rùmì and the Patron’s Redemption [London and New York: Routledge Curzon, 2003], 42), and in another place refers to him as “his old teacher” (ibid., 45), while Sàbà Yàrad calls him “his ustàdh” (Nàzik Sàbà Yàrad, Kullu mà qàlahu Ibn al-Rùmì fì al-Hijà" [London: Dàr al-Sàqì, 1988], 19). Boustany bases his conjecture on lines 55–58 of the above-mentioned poem no. 584. Upon closer examination of the poem, however, it seems clear that the poet had not yet studied with al-Mubarrad at the time of the poem’s composition. Thus, while he praises the swollen seas of al-Mubarrad’s vast knowledge in lines 55–58, he expressly states in lines 59–64 and 67 that “circumstances (dahrun kanùdù)” have prevented him from coming to drink from those waters, despite his great thirst. Perhaps he was hindered from pursuing a relationship with al-Mubarrad by what is known of the latter’s great respect for Ibn al-Rùmì’s rival, the poet al-Bu˙turì—although known for his haughtiness and for his custom of never rising to greet anyone, a number of anecdotes in the sources portray al-Mubarrad rising to greet and embrace al-Bu˙turì (see, for example, al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à, Amàlì al-Murta∂à: Ghurar al-Fawà"id wa-Durar al-Qalà"id. ed. Mu˙ammad Abù al-Fa∂l Ibràhìm, 2 vols. [Cairo: Dàr I˙yà" al-Kutub al-'Arabiyyah, 1954], 2:45, and Abù Bakr al-Íùlì, Akhbàr al-Bu˙turì, ed. Íàli˙ al-Ashtar [Damascus: al-Majma' al-'Ilmì al-'Arabì, 1958], 49–51); by the companionship the two men enjoyed—al-Bu˙turì’s dìwàn contains a number of versified invitations to al-Mubarrad to join the poet in drinking parties (see, for example, poems no. 44 and 336, Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, ed. Óusayn Kàmil al-Íìrafì, 5 vols. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1963–78], 1:132, and 2:838, and al-Ma'arrì, Risàlat al-Ghufràn, ed. 'À"ishah 'Abd al-Ra˙màn, 9th ed. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1993], 523); and by alMubarrad’s great admiration for al-Bu˙turì poetry (see al-Àmidì, al-Muwàzanah bayna Shi'r Abì Tammàm wa-al-Bu˙turì, ed. Al-Sayyid A˙mad Íaqr, 2 vols., 4th ed. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1992], 22). 22 Ibn al-Rùmì’s friend and pupil Abù 'Uthmàn al-Nàjim reports that the poet asked him to recite his dàliyyah to the famous grammarian Tha'lab in order to ascertain the soundness of the vowelization of the penultimate syllable of the rhyme (Yùnus al-Sàmarrà"ì, Shu'arà" 'Abbàsiyyùn, 3 vols. [Beirut: Maktabat al-Nah∂ah al-'Arabiyyah, 1990]: 3:361; a slightly different version of this story is found in alSharìf al-Murta∂à [Amàlì al-Murta∂à, 1:239 n1], which concludes with the poet boasting that he is more knowledgeable in the language than Tha'lab). One might draw a similar conclusion from the report related by 'Alì ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn Waßìf al-Nàshi" (d. 365/975–76), according to which both Ibn al-Rùmì and Tha'lab were frequent visitors to the shop of his father in Baghdad (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:281; see also Khayr Allàh Sa'ìd, Warràqù Baghdàd fì al-'Aßr al-'Abbàsì [al-Riyà∂: Markaz al-Malik Fayßal li-l-Bu˙ùth wa-l-Diràsàt al-Islàmiyyah, 2000], 481–82).

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had relations with the grammarians al-Akhfash al-Íaghìr (d. 315/927) and al-Zajjàj (d. 922).23 Boustany’s speculations concerning “un contact direct,” even a pupil-teacher relationship, between Ibn al-Rùmì and al-Jà˙iΩ (d. 255/869),24 however, are not supported by any evidence in the sources. Nowhere is there any mention of the poet’s having studied with a logician or philosopher, as several modern critics have contended. Thus, although Mu˙ammad Óusayn 'Abd al-Óalìm maintains that Ibn al-Rùmì “benefited greatly from the Dàr al-Óikmah . . . and applied himself assiduously to perusal of its books on science, literature, logic and philosophy, until his thought became mature and sound,”25 he offers no substantiation for this rather preposterous claim. Likewise, 'Umar Farrùkh asserts that Ibn al-Rùmì “acquired substantial knowledge of the Arabic sciences, such as classical Arabic grammar and literature, and also of the rational and natural sciences, and became familiar with the communications of the philosophers and with the science of dialectic theology,” but offers no substantiation.26 Ìliyyà Óàwì provides no corroboration for his references to the poet’s study of, and proficiency in, philosophy, logic, dialectic

Tha'lab was also acquainted with Ibn al-Rùmì’s teacher, Mu˙ammad ibn Óabìb, and praised him for his erudition and his probity (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 18:114–15; Tha'lab, Majàlis Tha'lab, ed. 'Abd al-Salàm Mu˙ammad Hàrùn, 2 vols. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1948], 1:158). There are no reports in the sources, however, which permit us to decide definitively whether the poet studied with either of the two renowned grammarians al-Mubarrad and Tha'lab. 23 The anecdotes concerning his relations with al-Akhfash are well-known and legion (see, for example, Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:250–55). That the poet knew the grammarian al-Zajjàj, one of the foremost pupils of al-Mubarrad and tutor, later boon-companion, to Ibn al-Rùmì’s important patron al-Qàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh, is evident from indications in his dìwàn (see, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 26, line 35, 1:82; and poem no. 770, lines 76–77, 3:1018). According to al-Mas'ùdì, numerous anecdotes concerning their relationship were in existence at one time (Rhuvon Guest, Life and Works of Ibn Er Rûmî [London: Luzac, 1944], 40; probably based on al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab wa-Ma'àdin al-Jawhar, ed. Mu˙ammad Mu˙yì al-Dìn 'Abd al-Óamìd, 4 vols. [Beirut: al-Maktabah al-'Aßriyyah, 1988], 4:284). 24 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 117. Boustany suggests that the poet may have been a pupil of the celebrated polymath. It is certain that Ibn al-Rùmì knew of al-Jà˙iΩ (see Chapter 2–D of Part I, note 180), but nothing in the sources suggests a teacherstudent relationship. 25 Mu˙ammad Óusayn 'Abd al-Óalìm, al-Istiqßà" fì Shi'r Ibn al-Rùmì (al-Manßùrah: Ma†ba'at al-Sa'àdah, 1992), 11. 26 'Umar Farrùkh, Ta"rìkh al-Adab al-'Arabì, 2nd ed. (Beirut: Dàr al-'Ilm li-lMalàyìn, 1975), 2:340.

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theology and the science of disputation.27 Nor does Mu˙ammad alNuwayhì provide any corroboration for his reference to the poet’s “extensive studies which accustomed him to thoroughness in his enquiries, arguments and analyses,” and to his having been “influenced by the books of philosophy, both translated works and original compositions, and by logic and the sciences and rational disputation. . . .”28 Most historical and biographical sources repeat the assertion that Ibn al-Rùmì was of Shiite persuasion, owing largely to the remarkably defiant elegy he dedicated to the 'Alawì martyr, Abù al-Óusayn Ya˙yà ibn 'Umar ibn Óusayn ibn Zayd ibn 'Alì,29 in about 250/864, when the poet was not yet thirty years of age.30 In this poem he venomously castigated his 'Abbàsid patrons and unequivocably called for the overthrow of the 'Abbàsid state.31 There are numerous other explicit references in the poet’s dìwàn to his Shiite partisanship,32 and

27 Ìliyyà Óàwì, Ibn al-Rùmì, Fannuhu wa-Nafsiyyatuhu min khilàl Shi'rih (Beirut: Dàr al-Kitàb al-Lubnànì, 1980), 24, 84, 183. 28 Mu˙ammad al-Nuwayhì, Thaqàfat al-Nàqid al-Adabì (Cairo: Ma†ba'at Lajnat alTa"lìf wa-l-Tarjamah wa-l-Nashr, 1949), 282, 246. 29 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 365, 2:492–500. See al-Nuwayrì (Nihàyat al-Arab fì Funùn al-Adab, various eds. [Cairo: al-Hay"ah al-Mißriyyah al-'Àmmah li-l-Kitàb, 1984], 22:305, and 25:75–78), al-ˇabarì (The History of al-Tabarì, trans. George Saliba [Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1985], 35:15–21), and Abù al-Faraj al-Ißbahànì (Maqàtil al-ˇàlibiyyìn, ed. al-Sayyid A˙mad Íaqr [Beirut: Dàr al-Ma'rifah, n.d.], 639–45), for details about this 'Alid and his uprising. Interestingly, Abu al-Faraj’s most important source for information about this 'Alid is Ibn al-Rùmì’s friend A˙mad ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Ammàr (see note 37 below). 30 It is perhaps significant that a shrine dedicated to the caliph 'Alì ibn Abì ˇàlib, and “much frequented by the Shi'ahs,” was located a short distance from the poet’s home. The shrine was known as Mashhad al-Min†aqah (the Shrine of the Girdle), probably for some relic preserved at the shrine. The Shi'ahs claimed that 'Alì had prayed at this site (Le Strange, Baghdad during the Abbasid Caliphate, 90; al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì, Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, 14 vols. [Beirut: Dàr al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, n.d.], 1:90). 31 It was presumably on the basis of this poem that the vizier Abù 'Ubayd alBakrì asserted that Ibn al-Rùmì “was a partisan of the ˇàlibids and loathed his 'Abbàsid protectors” (al-Bakrì, Sim† al-La"àli", ed. 'Abd al-'Azìz al-Maymanì, 2 vols. [Cairo: Lajnat al-Ta"lìf wa-l-Tarjamah wa-l-Nashr, 1936] 1:160). Poem no. 894, 3:1134–38, is an equally defiant elegy dedicated to this 'Alid martyr. 32 See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 13932 (1871), 6:2528–32, a manifesto of his 'Alid sympathies in sixty lines, in which the poet praises the 'Alid line, enjoins them to be patient in the face of adversity, predicts their imminent victory (line 39), and bemoans the fact that he has not given his own life in their defense (lines 40–45). See also ibid., poem no. 12, line 114, 1:71, where he complains to his patron “You were once a fellow 'Alid (kunta mimman yarà "t-tashayyu'a) but have seen fit in my case to incline to the Murji"ite cause,” i.e., he now suspends judgment, and implicitly also, his favors.

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his close relations with his patron Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl ibn 'Alì ibn Nawbakht, who is “probably” to be regarded as having founded the Ithnà 'Asharì sect by his doctrine of the occultation of the twelfth imam,33 and who is considered a founder of “the first school which fused Mu'tazilì theology with Imàmì teachings,”34 may be inferred from the tone of the numerous panegyrics and poems of remonstrance dedicated to him.35 From indications in poems addressed to Abù 'Abd Allàh Óusayn ibn 'Alì al-Bàqi†ànì, it is clear that he was on good terms with this chancellery secretary who was both Mu'tazilite and “un des principaux chefs “ì'ites.”36 Indeed, many of Ibn alRùmì’s close friends were known for their Shiite sympathies, men such as Ibn 'Ammàr37 and Ibn Bishr al-Marthadì.38 Al-Ma'arrì’s dismissive characterization of Ibn al-Rùmì’s Shiite inclinations, particularly as expressed in the above-mentioned dirge on the fallen 'Alid leader, as “no different from the stance adopted by other poets,”39 i.e., as owing to the attraction of an emotionally charged issue, rather than to any real religious convictions,40 would seem to be lent some

33 Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 21. Ibn al-Nadìm reports that Abù Sahl originated the idea according to which the Imàms remain in a state of occultation (al-ghaybah) until God brings His design to completion and has them appear again (al-Nadìm, alFihrist, ed. Reza Tajaddod, 3rd ed. [Beirut: Dàr al-Masìrah, 1988], 225). 34 J.L. Kraemer, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “al-Nawbakhtì.” 35 Al-'Aqqàd asserts that the fraternity Ibn al-Rùmì enjoyed with this patron was unequalled by any other (Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 146). 36 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 197. 37 Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà" 3: 233. After mentioning his 'Alid partisanship, Yàqut also mentions, on the authority of Ibn al-Rùmì’s friend Ibn al-Musayyab, that Ibn 'Ammàr was a friend of the poet and “was constantly with him” (ibid., 234). See note 29 above concerning Ibn 'Ammàr’s role as Abù al-Faraj’s principal authority for his report on the 'Alid martyr Ya˙yà ibn 'Umar. 38 See Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 119 n. 409. Boustany notes that their friendship seems to have been “solid and sincere,” and that the poet “treated Ibn Bishr as a friend rather than as a patron whose gifts he coveted” (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 221). 39 “wa-mà aràhu illà 'alà madhhabi ghayrihi mina "sh-shu'arà";” al-Ma'arrì, Risàlat alGhufràn, 477. Al-Ma'arrì’s statement and Ibn al-Rùmì’s Shiite inclinations are discussed by al-'Aqqàd in some detail (Ibn al-Rùmì, 160–64). 40 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 162–63. Al-'Aqqàd proposed also that the attraction of the 'Alid cause for someone of Ibn al-Rùmì’s sensibilities may reside in the fact that it was in essence the cause of “the wronged,” the cause in which all those with a keen sense of the injustice of their times and of Time would find particular solace and hope (ibid., 164). 'Abd al-Karìm al-Ashtar has suggested that the same reason may be behind the attraction of the 'Alid cause for the poets Bashshàr, Di'bil and Ibn al-Rùmì ('Abd al-Karìm al-Ashtar, Di'bil ibn 'Alì al-Khuzà'ì, Shà'ir Àl al-Bayt [Damascus, Dàr al-Fikr, 1964], 207–08).

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credence by the fact that the poet composed an elegy three years later on the man responsible for defeating Ya˙yà ibn 'Umar, the ˇàhirid Mu˙ammad ibn 'Abd Allàh.41 This fact notwithstanding, in certain Shiite quarters he has been described as “an object of pride for the Shiites, of whom they boast. . . . His love for the relatives of the Family of the Prophet, may the prayers of God be upon him and them, was unsurpassed, and his special concern for them, his panegyrics addressed to them and his defense of them, are patently clear facts.”42 Ibn al-Rùmì’s Mu'tazilite leanings are also clearly evident in his poetry,43 and would not be at odds with his Shiite sympathies.44 They

41 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 458, 2:631–33. Of interest is Ìliyyà al-Óàwì’s critique of the superficial and “forced” nature of this elegy (al-Óàwì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 262–68). 42 'Abd al-Óusayn A˙mad al-Amìnì al-Najafì, al-Ghadìr fì al-Kitàb wa al-Sunnah wa-l-Adab (Beirut: Dàr al-Kitàb al-'Arabì, 1977), 3:29–30. According to al-Amìnì (ibid., 30), some Shiite scholars, including Ibn al-Íabbàgh al-Màlikì and al-Shablanjì, considered him one of the poets of the 'Alid Imàm al-Óasan al-'Askarì (d. 260/874). 43 In Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 13702 (1848), 6:2490–91, for example, a piece of satire addressed to one Ibn Óurayth, the poet maintains that were the mahjù (the addressee of the satire), who also claimed to be Mu'tazilite, sincere in his beliefs (which, the poet hastens to add, he is not), then he (the poet) would in turn be forced to recant his tenaciously held Mu'tazilite creed. In lines 21–26 of poem no. 472, 2:646–48, a poem of madì˙ and istirfàd, the poet pleads with his patron, one al-'Abbàs ibn al-Qàshì, claiming that although there are no ties of kinship between them, yet they are united by the Mu'tazilite creed (maqàlatu l-'adli wa- t-taw˙ìdi tajma'unà) which enjoins the patron’s protection of his protégé, and he asks how a Mu'tazilite could logically claim that it was ordained Fate that prevented him from extending aid (this being inconsistent with the Mu'tazilite doctrine of free will). In poem no. 12532 (1731), 6:2382–83, he satirizes one 'Abd al-Qawì ibn Abì al'Atàhiyah for his anthropomorphism (noted by Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 259). See also his 66-line apology for the Mu'tazilite doctrine of man’s free will and responsibility for his actions (poem no. 693, 3:928–32; the poem is paraphrased in Chapter 3–A). The same theme is also developed in poem no. 1420, 5:1869. 44 Though Imàmì Shì'ism and Mu'tazilism were “less mutually attractive” than were Zaydì Shì'ism and Mu'tazilism, nonetheless “Imàmì-Mu'tazilì collaboration was not unusual” and, indeed, during the 3rd/9th century, many Mu'tazilites “had gravitated” toward Imàmism. The latter were associated principally with the distinguished Shì'ite Banù Nawbakht family with its distinctly “Mu'tazilì predilections” ( Joel Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam, 2nd ed. [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993], 74), particularly Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl ibn 'Alì and his nephew al-Óasan ibn Mùsà, who were the “founders of the first school which fused Mu'tazilì theology with Imàmì teachings” ( J. Kraemer, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “al-Nawbakhtì”). Louis Massignon writes of Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl that through him, “Shì'ism of the Imàmìya became committed finally to Mu'tazilism, to which the Zaydìya had previously committed itself ” (Massignon, The Passion of al-Hallàj, Mystic and Martyr of Islam, vol. 1, The Life of al-Hallàj, trans. Herbert Mason [Princeton: Princeton University Press,

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would, however, probably be at odds with the poet’s alleged superstition,45 but it is likely that many of the anecdotes told in this regard are fabrications of later generations.46 But the various combinations of seemingly contradictory orientations referred to above prompted al-'Aqqàd to refer to his loyalties and positions at any given time, in a slightly different context, as “‘the greenness’ through which the sap is currently flowing (al-akh∂ar al-ladhì yajrì fì-hi l-mà"u li-waqtih).”47 Before leaving the subject of the poet’s convictions, it is interesting to note that Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn contains a poem of reproach dedicated to a group he calls “Ikhwàn al-Íafà",” in which the poet

1982], 312). As will be seen in Chapter 2–E.i of Part I of this study, prominent members of the celebrated Banù Nawbakht family were important patrons of Ibn al-Rùmì, and the fraternity he enjoyed with a number of them, including especially the above-mentioned Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl, seems to have been unequalled. 45 On Ibn al-Rùmì’s alleged superstition and predilection for auguring good and evil from the names of people, places and directions, and various sounds, colors, shapes and physical defects, see the anecdotes preserved by al-'Abbàsì and Yàqùt translated in Chapter 1–B of Part I, and notes 65, 66 and 69 in the same chapter. See also the anecdote concerning the poet’s final words in Chapter 3–B of Part II. Superstition and augury would not, of course, have been consonant with Mu'tazilite tenets. See al-Jà˙iΩ’s lengthy treatment of superstition and augury (al-Jà˙iΩ, alHayawàn, ed. 'Abd al-Salàm Mu˙ammad Hàrùn, 8 vols., 2nd ed. [Cairo: Mu߆afà al-Bàbì al-Óalabì wa-Awlàduh, 1965], 3:438–82, passim). See especially the curious anecdote he relates concerning his teacher al-NaΩΩàm’s superstition and divination from omens and the reasons which induced him to give them up (ibid., 3:451–53). See also 'Abd al-Óakìm Balba', Adab al-Mu'tazilah ilà Nihàyat al-Qarn al-Ràbi' al-Hijrì, 3rd ed. (Cairo: Dàr Nah∂at Mißr, 1979), 280–85, for an account of al-NaΩΩàm’s rationalistic attempts to explain the origins of the beliefs of the masses in various legends and legendary creatures, and of the general Mu'tazilite ridicule of such legends and of superstition and belief in omens, as preserved by al-Jà˙iΩ in his alÓayawàn and by al-Tanùkhì in his Nishwàr al-Mu˙à∂arah. 46 See the discussion of the poet’s persona in the next section of this chapter. As Ibràhìm al-Najjàr has observed, “the biographies of the poets seldom enable us to determine their identities in any precise manner. . . . Indeed, they [the biographies] are often little more than the presentation of those poets’ personas as constructed by the collective imagination, and into which every curious story and pleasing anecdote has found its way” (Ibràhìm al-Najjàr, Shu'arà" 'Abbàsiyyùn Mansiyyùn, 7 vols. [Beirut: Dàr al-Gharb al-Islàmì, 1997], 6:105 and 3:53). In this regard, see the two very curious stories preserved by al-Óußrì concerning Ibn al-Rùmì’s irrational fears (al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir fì al-Mula˙ wa-l-Nawàdir, ed. 'Alì Mu˙ammad al-Bijàwì, 2nd ed. [Beirut: Dàr al-Jìl, 1987], 293–94). 47 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 122. In this regard, Gutas’ observation concerning the poet’s times is instructive: “We witness in the [third]/ninth century in Baghdad a richly textured society in which there was a great wealth of ideas and attitudes in circulation. Well-defined boundaries around intellectual and ideological positions had not then been drawn. . . .” (Dimitri Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early 'Abbàsid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th centuries) [London and New York: Routledge, 1998], 160).

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blames them for having betrayed his friendship.48 Abbas Hamdani maintains both that the doctrines espoused by the authors of the Rasà"il, the Ikhwàn al-Íafà" or Brethren of Purity,49 are Ismà'ìlì, i.e., Shiite, in provenance and covertly political in character, and also that these epistles were composed in the period from 260 to 297/874 to 909, i.e., from the date of the disappearance and occultation of the twelfth Ithnà 'Asharì imàm, the son of the 'Alid Imàm al-Óasan al-'Askarì, to the establishment of the Fatimid caliphate in Tunisia.50 One must remember that Ibn al-Rùmì spent his mature life during this very troubled time fraught with such great expectation, entertained definite Shiite sympathies, and composed both a defiant elegy on the 'Alawì martyr, Abù al-Óusayn Ya˙yà ibn 'Umar ibn Óusayn ibn Zayd ibn 'Alì in which he called for the overthrow of the 'Abbàsid state, and another poem in which he foretold an imminent 'Alid victory. These facts would seem to lend credence to the time frame proposed by Hamdani for the composition of the Epistles,51 and connect Ibn al-Rùmì with their authors, known for their intellectual and philosophical bent. Somewhat militating against this contention, however, is the fact that Ibn al-Rùmì uses the terms akhù al-ßafà" and khalìl al-ßafà" on two other occasions,52 the singular usage suggesting that in fact the poet is not referring to the authors of the Epistles,

48

Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 789, 3:1038. In their encyclopedia, comprising some fifty-two treatises, they attempted to reconcile Greek learning with Islamic doctrines, within which body of Islamic knowledge, logic, derived largely from al-Kindì, occupied a central place, linking the various scientific disciplines. 50 See Abbas Hamdani, “The Arrangement of the Rasà"il Ikhwàn Al-Safà" and the Problem of Interpolations,” Journal of Semitic Studies, 29/1 (Spring, 1984): 97–110, and “Abù Hayyàn al-Taw˙ìdì and the Brethren of Purity,” International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 9 (1978): 345–53. 51 Before Hamdani, Louis Massignon identified Ibn al-Rùmì and his time as constituting the “terminus a quo” for the composition of the Rasà"il Ikhwàn al-Íafà", basing himself on the inclusion of a short poem by Ibn al-Rùmì in Epistle no. 37 (Louis Massignon, “Sur la date de la composition des Rasà"il Ikhwàn al-Safà",” Der Islam, 4 [1913]: 324; cited also by Hamdani, “Arrangement,” 106). See the discussion of the poem referred to by Massignon in Chapter 3–A of Part II. 52 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 999, line 14, 3:1229; and ibid., poem no. 64, line 149, 1:122. Indeed, even before Ibn al-Rùmì, the poet 'Alì ibn al-Jahm (d. 249/863) sarcastically used the term ikhwàn al-ßafà" to characterize his erstwhile friends at court in the first poem he composed after the reversal of his fortunes and his incarceration by the caliph al-Mutawakkil (Dìwàn 'Alì ibn al-Jahm, ed. Khalìl Mardam Bey, 2nd ed. [Beirut: Dàr al-Àfàq al-Jadìdah, 1980], poem no. 25, p. 83, line 17). 49

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the Ikhwàn al-Íafà", but rather is using the term in a more general, ironic sense. Numerous versions exist of the manner in which Ibn al-Rùmì met his death,53 and even the date of his death varies considerably in the sources. Most medieval sources assert that the poet was poisoned, differing largely only in the agent to whom this perfidious act is attributed, though more recently some critics have contended that the symptoms of his final illness would seem to indicate that he died of diabetes.54 Of the various dates proposed, al-'Aqqàd has, with good reason, determined the most likely one to be 283/896.55

1–B The Poet’s Persona as Constructed, Interpreted and Preserved by Later Generations in the Akhbàr The akhbàr which deal with the persona of Ibn al-Rùmì seem to be exclusively concerned with the poet’s superstitiousness and morbid and irrational fears. The native tradition seems to have misunderstood the poet and the ludic aspect of his personality and his poetry. This misunderstanding is well exemplified in the different ways in which the themes and conceits developed in his famous bà"iyyah dedicated to A˙mad ibn Thawàbah56 have been received. The major part of this poem consists of an elaborate plea that the poet be excused from journeying to his patron on the grounds of his morbid fears of travel, both by land and by sea. The poet asks instead

53

These reports are summarized by al-'Aqqàd (Ibn al-Rùmì, 63–65), al-Sàmarrà"ì (Àl Wahab, 299–300, 353–58), Guest (Ibn Er Rûmî, 42–43), Boustany (Ibn ar-Rùmì, 186–90), and Mu˙ammad 'Abd al-Ghanì Óasan (Ibn al-Rùmì, Nawàbigh al-Fikr al'Arabì Series, No. 11 [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1960], 33–35). This last source also presents various versions of the poet’s final words as preserved in the medieval sources. The most curious version of the poet’s final words, allegedly related by his friend Abù 'Uthmàn al-Nàjim, is preserved by Ibn al-Qàri˙ in his epistle to alMa'arrì (al-Ma'arrì, Risàlat al-Ghufràn, 40–41, 478 n. 3), and discussed by al-Ma'arrì himself (ibid., 478–83). For a paraphrase of this anecdote, see 3–B of Part II. These different versions of his final words are interesting because they illustrate two aspects of the poet’s personality, the playful and the superstitious. As will become clear in Chapter 1–B of Part I, the native tradition failed to appreciate the ludic aspect of his personality and sought to explain the “oddity” of his art with recourse to tales of perverse superstition and delusion. 54 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 200. 55 Ibid., 197–98. 56 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 162, 1:213–24.

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that his patron have his gifts journey to the poet. A number of modern critics have appreciated the playful intent of the poem. Thus, van Gelder described the poem as “original, lively and funny,”57 Guest commented that it was composed “doubtless partly in joke” and “meant to be humorous,”58 and Shawqì Îayf remarked that it was intended “by way of jest ('alà sabìli l-fukàhah).”59 Many medieval and modern critics have failed to see its playful motivation, however, and have adduced this poem as symptomatic of the poet’s superstition and the predominance in his constitution of what alMas'ùdì called “the darker humors (al-akhlà† al-sawdà"),”60 and of the morbid fears and delusions (wasàwis) that accompany such a pathological predisposition.61 Indeed, Mu˙ammad al-Nuwayhì, in his lengthy discussion of the poem, characterizes the poet’s elaborate plea as no more than “the chatter of one frightened and nervous, attempting to conceal his fear (thartharatu l-'aßabiyyi yurìdu ikhfà"a ru'bih).”62 Germanus cites the poem as exemplary of the poet’s “superstitious fears,”63 while al-Óußrì describes the poem as issuing from the poet’s “intense wariness and oppressive superstition.”64 Most critics have thus attempted

57 G.J.H. van Gelder, “The Terrified Traveller: Ibn al-Rùmì’s Anti-Rahìl,” Journal of Arabic Literature, 27 (1996): 37. 58 Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 16, 47. 59 Îayf, al-'Aßr al-'Abbàsì al-Thànì, 8th ed. (Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1992), 299. Îayf makes his observation in the course of his discussion of the poet’s superstition. After quoting several of the more amusing anecdotes which are given in the classical sources by way of elucidating this alleged trait of his, Îayf insists that “it is certain that these reports and those like them contain exaggerations, while some may be complete fabrications.” 60 Al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:284. 61 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 102–3, 106, 145; al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 78; al-Óàwì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 55–56, 82, 230–42; al-Nuwayhì, Thaqàfat al-Nàqid al-Adabì, 281–301; Sa'fàn, Qirà"ah, 42–43; 'Abbùd, al-Ru"ùs (Beirut: Dàr al-Thaqàfah, 1972), 155; Sàmì Munìr, Malàmi˙ Wa˙dat al-Qaßìdah fì al-Shi'r al-'Arabì bayn al-Qadìm wa-l-Óadìth (Alexandria: n.p., 1979), 229. Mu˙ammad Mandùr (al-Naqd wa al-Nuqqàd al-Mu'àsirùn [Cairo: Maktabat Nah∂at Mißr, n.d.] 156) would seem to be one of the few critics to dismiss “the arbitrary and unjustified inferences” concerning the poet’s morbid superstition “thrust upon him” by the adherents of the psychological method of literary criticism (al-natà"ij al-muta'assifah allatì aq˙amahà ba'∂ al-dàrisìna 'alà shi'r Ibn al-Rùmì wa-ta†ayyurih). 62 Al-Nuwayhì, Thaqàfat al-Nàqid al-Adabì, 299. Interestingly, Munìr’s characterization of the plea, cited in the preceding note, differs only in the substitution of “al-qaliq” for “al-'aßabì.” 63 Germanus, “Ibn-Rùmìs Dichtkunst,” 246–48. 64 Al-Óußrì, Zahr al-Àdàb wa Thamar al-Albàb, ed. Zakì Mubàrak, 4 vols., 4th ed. (Beirut: Dàr al-Jìl, n.d.), 2:534–36; and al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 296–98.

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to explain away Ibn al-Rùmì’s unique style and his taghàyur, or very original treatment of traditional motifs and themes that often ran contrary to received taste and established custom, with recourse to concocted tales of perverse tashà"um, or superstition and evil foreboding and ill luck. It is granted that the poet may have played some part in creating his own persona, and indeed, the references to omens do abound in his poetry,65 as do instances in which the poet feels obliged to defend himself against charges that he brings ill luck to those with whom he is associated.66 But the real reason for the specific contours the poet’s persona assumes in the akhbàr would seem to be the tradition’s inability to understand and appreciate his uniqueness. Al-'Abbàsì (d. 352/963), who died just a few generations after the poet, relates an amusing anecdote which signals the direction that the development of Ibn al-Rùmì’s persona was to take: He was much given to superstition, and anecdotes abound in this regard. His friends used to make fun of him and send to him people in whose names he would discern bad omens, and then on no account would he leave his house or dispose of any of his affairs for the rest of that day. One day a number of his friends sent him a handsome lad named Óasan, who knocked at his door. [The poet] asked “Who’s there?” [to which the youth] replied, “Óasan.” [Ibn al-Rùmì] deemed this a good omen and emerged from his house. But directly facing the door to his house was the shop of a tailor, nailed shut with two planks in the shape of a làm and an alif (= là), directly beneath which he espied the pit of a date (tamr). The sight portended evil for him and

65

See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 1491, 5:1927–28, a poem concerned in its entirety with an exposition, albeit in a playful vein, of the disastrous effects of inauspicious omens. See also poem no. 13292 (1807), 6:2453–54, a poem addressed to his friend Ibn al-Musayyab, which is in essence an elaborate defense of the divining of omens (see al-Óußrì, Zahr al-Àdàb, 2:526–27, for the circumstances which prompted the composition of the poem). The references to omens, and divining omens, are too numerous to catalogue here. See, by way of example, poem no. 26, lines 14–18, 1:81; poem no. 1167, lines 12–14, 4:1517; poem no. 1611, lines 244–45, 5:2105; poem no. 11972 (1677), lines 17–19, 6:2267–68; poem no. 12162 (1694), lines 1–2, 6:2314; poem no. 987, lines 46–48, 3:1212. Perhaps the most curious of all is the account allegedly related by Ibn al-Rùmì’s good friend Abù 'Uthmàn al-Nàjim of their final encounter, when the poet was on his death bed, and related by Ibn al-Qàri˙ in his epistle to al-Ma'arrì (see Chapter 3–B of Part II for a summary of this anecdote). 66 See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 224, lines 45–55, 1:319; see also ibid., poem no. 1408, 5:1852–55, a poem of coarse invective apparently composed in response to the mahjù’s charge that the poet is ill-omened (see line 3).

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he exclaimed, “This is saying 'Do not venture beyond this point’ (là tamurr),” and he returned [to his house] and did not accompany him.67

Yàqùt preserves another well-known and oft-cited anecdote, related by one 'Alì ibn Ibràhìm ibn Mùsà, secretary to Masrùr al-Balkhì, which likewise clearly illustrates the exaggerated, if not entirely fabricated, nature of these anecdotal reports: I was sitting one day in the courtyard of my house when a stone suddenly fell from the sky and landed nearby. I immediately jumped up and ran, then ordered a servant to climb up to the roof and determine whence the stone had come. He came back to me and said, “Sir, a woman from the household of Ibn al-Rùmì, the poet, says: “God, O God [save] us! Give us some water to drink, or else we shall surely die of thirst, for our door has been locked upon us for a full three days because of our master’s superstition. Each day he dresses, pronounces the formula “I take refuge in God” and recites [some verses from the Quran], then goes towards the door with the key [in his hand]. He looks through a crack in the door and, noticing a neighbor of his who is one-eyed68 sitting opposite him, turns back, undresses and leaves the door locked upon us like that for the rest of the day and night.” So [my servant] saw to it that the things she desired were delivered to her. The next day I sent to him a lad [khàdim] by the name of ˇàhir [“Pure”],69 whom Ibn al-Rùmì knew, and told him to sit by his door, and I sent others to the one-eyed [neighbor] with a message asking him to come to my residence. When this man had left his place [opposite the poet’s door], the lad knocked at Ibn al-Rùmì’s door, addressed him and asked him also to come to my home. The boy said: “He came out, looked through that spot [in the door] and

Al-'Abbàsì, Ma'àhid al-Tanßìß 'alà Shawàhid al-Talkhìß, ed. Mu˙ammad Mu˙ì alDìn 'Abd al-Óamìd, 4 vols. (Cairo: Ma†ba'at al-Sa'àdah 1947), 1:117. 68 In other versions of the anecdote, this neighbor is the hunchback about whom Ibn al-Rùmì composed the poem translated at the end of Chapter 4–B.iv of Part II (see, for example, al-Óußrì, Zahr al-Àdàb, 2:533). 69 In many anecdotes preserved in the sources, the poet is depicted as portending evil in the names of persons who knock at his door, and consequently refusing to leave his house for the rest of the day. Most of these anecdotes concern the poet’s relations with the grammarian al-Akhfash al-Íaghìr (and in some reports, with the poet al-Bu˙turì). See, for example, Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad al-Zubaydì, ˇabaqàt al-Na˙wiyyìn wa al-Lughawiyyìn, ed. Mu˙ammad Abù al-Fa∂l Ibràhìm (Cairo: Mu˙ammad Sàmì Amìn al-Khànjì al-Kutubì, 1954) 126; Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:250–51; Ibn Rashìq, al-'Umdah fì Ma˙àsin al-Shi'r wa-Àdàbih, ed. Mu˙ammad Mu˙yì al-Dìn 'Abd al-Óamìd, 2 vols. (Cairo: Ma†ba'at Óijàzì, 1934), 1:53; al-Óußrì, Zahr al-Àdàb, 2:530; al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 294; and al-'Abbàsì, Ma'àhid al-Tanßìß, 1:117. See also the discussion of the poet’s penchant for puns and wordplay in Chapter 3–B of Part II. 67

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part i – chapter one saw me, and did not see his neighbor. Then he opened the door and emerged from his house, and did not let his gaze turn from me, nor did he direct his speech to anyone but me. . . .”

The narrator, 'Alì ibn Ibràhìm, then describes waiting in his house for the arrival of his guests who include also a “mentally disordered (muwaswas)” poet named Bardha'ah, who, together with another of the guests, is on an errand for the caliph al-Mu'ta∂id. 'Alì ibn Ibràhìm continues: We were talking when Ibn al-Rùmì entered with my servant. When he crossed the threshold of the courtyard door, he tripped and the thong of his sandle broke. He then picked up his sandle and entered, frightened (madh'ùran). I said to him: “Is there anything finer than spotting the (comely) face of my servant when you come to your front door, O Abù al-Óasan?” “But you saw what happened to me just now, how I stumbled,” he [Ibn al-Rùmì] answered. “It’s because it just occurred to me that he [the servant] has a bodily defect.” “What might that be?” I asked. “He’s been emasculated,” he answered.70 Then the “mentally disordered” poet Bardha'ah asks: “Does our shaykh see evil omens in things?” “Yes,” I replied, and how!” “Who is he?” he asked. “This is Ibn al-Rùmì, the secretary (al-kàtib),” I answered. “The poet?” he asked. “Yes,” I responded.

At this point Bardha'ah recites some (rather insipid) verses in which he admonishes Ibn al-Rùmì to have patience in the face of adversity, to abstain from worldly pleasures and to take from life only what satisfies one’s daily needs, and to give up auguring good and evil from things. The narrator then notices that Ibn al-Rùmì was speechless and seemed dumfounded ( fa-ra"aytu Ibn al-Rùmì shabìhan bi-l-bàhit), and learns later that he had been busy committing the verses to memory. When Bardha'ah and his companion get up to leave, Ibn al-Rùmì says to the former, “By God, I won’t augur evil from things from this day forward.” The narrator concludes that he really did give up seeing omens in things.71

70

The khàdim was very often a eunuch (see David Ayalon, “On the term khàdim in the sense of ‘eunuch’ in the early Muslim sources,” Arabica 32 [1985]: 289–308). 71 Yàqùt, Mu"jam al-Udabà" 13:296–99; cited also by al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 58–59. This anecdote is found at the end of the biography of 'Alì ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn Waßìf al-Nàshi", the son of a friend of Ibn al-Rùmì, and bears no apparent relation to the biography itself. Although in its present state, Yàqùt’s work contains no biography of 'Alì ibn 'Abbàs al-Rùmì, perhaps the above-translated anecdotal material is from a biography of the poet which was originally included in the Mu"jam al-Udabà" but is now lost.

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Yàqùt notes that he copied the above story from a book by one Mu˙ammad ibn Abì al-Azhar on “wise madmen ('uqalà" al-majànìn),” and the reader is left asking himself who the wise madman was in the anecdote, the “mentally disordered” poet Bardha'ah, or Ibn alRùmì. And if Ibn al-Rùmì is not the “wise madman,” how is one to construe his bizarre actions and predilections?

1–C The Poet’s Reception Ibn al-Rùmì’s reception within the tradition appears to have been remarkably mixed. Al-Qà∂ì al-Jurjànì (d. 366/977), towards the end of the introduction to his book al-Wasà†ah bayn al-Mutanabbì wa Khußùmih, complains that his contemporaries “unduly assume the superiority of Ibn al-Rùmì [over al-Mutanabbì, generally regarded within the tradition as perhaps the greatest of poets] and exaggerate in their giving him precedence.”72 Indeed, as the very large number of Ibn al-Rùmì’s verses cited by al-'Ukbarì (d. 616/1219) as shawàhid in his commentary on al-Mutanabbì’s dìwàn indicates, the great poet seems to have been quite familiar with Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn. Al-'Amìdì (d. 433/1040), in the introduction to his book on the “borrowings” of al-Mutanabbì, compares Ibn al-Rùmì favorably with the illustrious poet in particularly demonstrative terms: “I would not compare him [al-Mutanabbì] with Ibn al-Rùmì with respect to prolixity (imtidàd al-nafas), knowledge of the language, and mastery over the different genres and over the representation of wondrous conceits, novel similes, brilliant aphorisms and extensive learning.”73 The laudatory appraisals of such critics and biographers as alMarzubànì, Ibn Rashìq, Ibn Khallikàn and al-Íafadì will be adduced below. Ibn Óazm (d. 456/1064) coupled him with Imru" al-Qays as the masters, among the Ancients and the Moderns, of barà'ah (total

Al-Qà∂ì 'Alì ibn 'Abd al-'Azìz al-Jurjànì, al-Wasà†ah bayn al-Mutanabbì waKhußùmih, ed. Mu˙ammad Abù al-Fa∂l Ibràhìm and 'Alì Mu˙ammad al-Bijàwì, 3rd ed. (Cairo: Ma†ba'at 'Ìsà al-Bàbì al-Óalabì wa Shurakàh, n.d.), 54. 73 “wa-là aqìsuhu [al-Mutanabbì] fì "mtidàd al-nafas wa-'ilm al-lughah wa-l-iqtidàr 'alà ∂urùb al-kalàm wa-taßawwur al-ma'ànì al-'ajìbah wa-l-tashbìhàt al-gharìbah wa-l-˙ikam al-bàri'ah wa-l-àdàb al-wàsi'ah bi-Ibn al-Rùmì;” Abù Sa'd Mu˙ammad ibn A˙mad al-'Amìdì, al-Ibànah 'an Sariqàt al-Mutanabbì, ed. Ibràhìm al-Dasùqì al-Bisà†ì (Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1961), 24; cited also by al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 51, and by al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 9. 72

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perfection, virtuosity) which is “the grasping of subtle and farfetched meanings, abundant production of unfamiliar expressions, accuracy of simile, and the embellishment of delicate meanings.”74 According to Ibn al-Nadìm, the Khàlidiyyàn brothers (d. 380/990 and 390/1000) are said to have written a treatise on his poetry,75 which is not extant, but a citation praising the poet’s originality and attributed to the Khàlidiyyàn brothers, presumably from the work mentioned by Ibn al-Nadìm, is preserved in al-Íafadì.76 Abù al-Fa∂l ibn al-'Amìd (d. 360/971) and al-Íà˙ib ibn 'Abbàd (d. 385/995) are known to have devoted attention to his poetry,77 and al-Íà˙ib reports a judgment according to which Ibn al-Rùmì is considered the last of the great poets.78 Ibn Sìnà (d. 428/1037) is reputed to have written a commentary on a selection of his poetry,79 and to have made fre-

“al-taßarruf fì daqìq al-ma'ànì wa-ba'ìdihà wa-l-ikthàru fìmà là 'ahda li-l-nàsi bi-l-qawli fìhi wa-ißàbat al-tashbìh wa-ta˙sìn al-ma'nà "l-la†ìf ”; Ibn Óazm, al-Taqrìb li-Óadd alMan†iq wa-l-Madkhal ilayh, in Rasà"il Ibn Óazm al-Andalusì, ed. Ihsàn 'Abbàs, 4 vols. (Beirut: al-Mu"assasah al-'Arabiyyah li-l-Diràsàt wa-l-Nashr, 1983), 207; trans. Mansour Ajami, The Alchemy of Glory: The Dialectic of Truthfulness and Untruthfulness in Medieval Arabic Literary Criticism (Washington D.C.: Three Continents Press, 1988), 45; also cited and trans. by James Monroe in Ibn Shuhayd, Risàlat at-Tawàbi' wa z-Zawàbi': the Treatise of Familiar Spirits and Demons, intro., trans. and notes by James T. Monroe (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), 18–19 n58. 75 Al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 195; cited also by Sezgin, Geschichte des Arabischen Schriftums, 9 vols. (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975), 2:587. The title is given as Kitàb fì Akhbàr Shi'r Ibn al-Rùmì. 76 Al-Íafadì, al-Wàfì bi al-Wafayàt, 24 vols, ed. Hellmut Ritter et al. (Istanbul, Damascus, Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner and other publishers, 1931–93), 21:172. 77 Al-Imàm 'Abd al-Qàhir al-Jurjànì relates an anecdote in which al-Íà˙ib asserts that Ibn al-'Amìd was fond of going through Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn checking off his favorite verses. When al-Íà˙ib notices that he has not checked a verse from the poet’s dàliyyah that he is particularly fond of, an argument ensues (al-Jurjànì, Dalà"il al-I'jàz fì 'Ilm al-Bayàn, ed. Mu˙ammad Rashìd Ri∂à [Beirut: Dàr al-Ma'rifah, 1981], 426–27). The Buyid vizier and distinguished savant, Ibn al-'Amìd, was styled “the second al-Jà˙iΩ” because he surpassed all his contemporaries in philology and epistolary composition, and Amidu Sanni has suggested that he would go through Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn checking off verses with the intention of later incorporating these verses in his epistles, either in their original form or rendered into prose (Amidu Sanni, The Arabic Theory of Prosification and Versification: on Óall and NaΩm in Arabic Theoretical Discourse, Beiruter Texte und Studien, Band 70 [Beirut: in Kommission bei Franz Steiner, 1998], 13). 78 Al-Íà˙ib ibn 'Abbàd, Rùznàmjih (Baghdad, 1958), 16; cited by Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 342 n2. 79 Óàjjì Khalìfah (Kàtib Chelebì), Kashf al-¸unùn 'an Asàmì al-Kutub wa-l-Funùn (Istanbul: Wikàlat al-Ma'àrif al-Jalìlah fì Ma†ba'atihà al-Bahiyyah, 1941), 1:766 (intakhabahu wa-shara˙a mushkilàti shi'rih). Al-Íafadì, however, includes in his biographical account of the poet the lengthy reason Ibn Sìnà allegedly gave al-Qà∂ì 74

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quent use of certain of the poet’s metaphors and similes in his analysis of the “poetic syllogism,”80 discussed below. In spite of these admiring appraisals, however, very little has come down to us of biographical and anecdotal material about the poet,81 or of commentaries on his poetry along the lines of those that exist for great poets of previous ages, and for major 'Abbàsid poets such as Bashshàr, Abù Nuwàs, Abù Tammàm, al-Bu˙turì, al-Mutanabbì and others. Abù al-Faraj al-Ißbahànì (d. 356/967) completely ignores him in his great compendium of Arabic learning and lore,82 as does al-Fà∂il for declining to compose the commentary that the latter had requested (alÍafadì, al-Wàfì bi al-Wafayàt, 21:172; trans. in Chap. 4–B.iii of Part II). 80 See Deborah L. Black’s discussion of “the imaginative syllogism” in Chapter 7 of her book Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics in Medieval Arabic Philosophy (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1990), 209–41, where she treats Ibn Sìnà’s analysis of the syllogistic nature of the metaphoric utterance, correctly identifying (following Gregor Schoeler) one of the examples used as a paraphrase of a metaphor of Ibn al-Rùmì, but failing to identifiy Ibn Sìnà’s favored metaphor “Honey is vomited bile” as also belonging to the poet. See Chapter 4–C of Part II of this study. 81 The secretary 'Alì ibn al-'Abbàs al-Nawbakhtì (d. 329/940–41), a cousin (ibn 'amm) of Ibn al-Rùmì’s very important patron Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl ibn 'Alì al-Nawbakhtì, is reported to have transmitted “a sizeable portion” of the stories and anecdotes concerning Ibn al-Rùmì (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:267–68). The secretary Abù al-'Abbàs Ibn 'Ammàr al-Thaqafì (d. 314/926), a one-time friend of Ibn al-Rùmì, is reported to have composed a book on the poet with selections from his poetry (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 166; Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 3:240). The secretary Abù alÓasan 'Alì ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn al-Musayyab was a good friend of Ibn al-Rùmì and wrote a book on the poet (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 3:234). None of these works by Ibn al-Rùmì’s friends and acquaintances are extant, however. Ibn alRùmì’s friend and pupil, Abù 'Uthmàn al-Nàjim (d. 314/926) is said to have been his transmitter (al-Shàbushtì, al-Diyàràt, ed. Kùrkìs 'Awwàd, 3rd ed. [Beirut: Dàr al-Rà"id al-'Arabì, 1986], 94), but if he committed anything to writing, it has not survived. The prominent secretary Abù Bakr al-Íùlì (d. 330/941–42), who explicitly tells us that he met Ibn al-Rùmì (Abù Bakr al-Íùlì, Akhbàr Abì Tammàm, ed. Khalìl Ma˙mùd 'Asàkir, Mu˙ammad 'Abduh 'Azzàm and Naûìr al-Islàm al-Hindì [Cairo: Lajnat al-Ta"ìlif wa-l-Tarjamah wa-l-Nashr, 1937], 25), is known to have been a transmitter of the previously mentioned pupil of the poet, Abù 'Uthmàn alNàjim (al-Kutubì, Fawàt al-Wafayàt, ed. I˙sàn 'Abbàs [Beirut], 2:51; cited by alSàmarrà"ì, Shu'arà" 'Abbàsiyyùn, 3:358) and to have edited Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn, arranging the poems according to the rhyme-letter (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 168, 190), but if he introduced the dìwàn with an anecdotal biography of the poet, as he did for the dìwàns of Abù Tammàm, al-Bu˙turì and other poets, it is not extant. 82 This is particularly strange as Abù al-Faraj is reported to have transmitted from Ibn al-Rùmì’s friend, Ibn 'Ammàr (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 3:233), and, as was seen in the preceding note, Ibn 'Ammàr in turn is reported to have composed a work on Ibn al-Rùmì’s life with selections from his poetry (ibid., 240). It is strange too given the fact that Abù al-Faraj was a pupil of Abù Bakr al-Íùlì, who met Ibn al-Rùmì and edited his dìwàn (see the previous note), and the Aghànì comprises nearly 300 anecdotes transmitted on his authority (al-Íùlì, Akhbàr al-Bu˙turì, 18–19). Curiously, the Aghànì contains only two extremely brief references to Ibn al-Rùmì.

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Ibn 'Abd Rabbih (d. 328/940). Ibn al-Mu'tazz also completely ignores him in his Tabaqàt al-Shu'arà", even though he is a younger contemporary of the poet and certainly knew of him, and saw fit to include in his work specimens from the poetry of many obscure poets of lesser stature.83 The same may be said of the poet, copyist and secretary, Mu˙ammad ibn Dàwud ibn al-Jarrà˙ (killed in 296/908). It is known that he knew Ibn al-Rùmì personally,84 though in his al-Waraqah he only mentions the poet parenthetically as having associated with a group of Baghdad poets who satirized and recriminated with one another.85 Yàqùt (d. 626/1229) and Abù al-Barakàt al-Anbàrì (d. 577/1181) ignore him in their otherwise comprehensive biographical dictionaries of “men of letters,”86 and al-ˇabarì

In the first, he is merely cited as having “stolen” a poetic conceit from Ibràhìm ibn al-'Abbàs ibn Mu˙ammad ibn Íùl (al-Aghànì, 10:59), and in the second, he is represented as characterizing al-Óusayn ibn al-Da˙˙àk as “the most adept at ghazal of all people, and the most refined (wa-aΩrafuhum)” (al-Aghànì, 7:175). Such an omission is particularly surprising in view of the Shiite partisanship shared by both Abù al-Faraj and Ibn al-Rùmì. That Abù al-Faraj must have been acquainted with the poet’s dìwàn may be inferred, in addition to the points noted above, from the fact that Ibn al-Rùmì was on familiar terms with Ja˙Ωah al-Barmakì, one of Abù alFaraj’s teachers and a source frequently cited in al-Aghànì. Indeed, in another work of his, Abù al-Faraj reproduces the entire elegy (110 lines) Ibn al-Rùmì composed on the occasion of the martyrdom of the 'Alid Ya˙yà ibn 'Umar, after registering a laudatory appraisal of its excellencies (al-Ißbahànì, Maqàtil al-ˇàlibiyyìn, 646–62). Kàmil Kìlànì believes that the author of the Aghànì intentionally omitted reference to the poet because of the latter’s irreverent treatment of the poet al-Bu˙turì and the grammarian al-Akhfash al-Íaghìr, under whom he had studied (Kìlànì, Íuwar Jadìdah min al-Adab al-'Arabì [Cairo, 1939], 208; cited by Mu˙ammad 'Abd al-Ghanì Óasan, Ibn al-Rùmì, 18). 83 Perhaps this is because of the harsh satire Ibn al-Rùmì addressed to Ibn alMu'tazz’s father, the caliph al-Mu'tazz (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 241, lines 26–30, 39–43, 1:338–39), or because of Ibn al-Mu'tazz’s unabashedly strong anti'Alid and anti-Mu'tazilite positions (see al-Khafàjì, Ibn al-Mu'tazz wa-Turàthuhu fì alAdab wa-l-Naqd wa-l-Bayàn [Cairo: Maktabat al-Óusayn al-Tijàriyyah, 1949], 71). 84 See the anecdote preserved by Yàqùt (Mu'jam al-Udabà", 3:237–40). 85 Ibn al-Jarrà˙, al-Waraqah, ed. 'Abd al-Wahhàb 'Azzàm and 'Abd al-Sattàr A˙mad Farràj, 3rd ed (Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1986), 121. 86 Yàqùt mentions Ibn al-Rùmì only parenthetically, in the course of the biographies of the grammarian al-Akhfash al-Íaghìr (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:250–55); the Mutakallim, Imàmate apologist, poet and son of a friend of Ibn al-Rùmì, 'Alì ibn 'Abdullàh ibn Waßìf al-Nàshi" (ibid., 13:281, 296–99); the kàtib and littérateur 'Alì ibn al-'Abbàs al-Nawbakhtì (ibid., 13:267–68); the genealogist, philologist and transmitter of poetry Mu˙ammad ibn Óabìb (ibid., 18:114); the poet and littérateur Abù 'Uthmàn al-Nàjim (ibid., 11:193), and the kàtib A˙mad ibn Mu˙ammad ibn Bishr al-Marthadì (ibid., 4:187). A relatively lengthy specimen from Ibn al-Musayyab’s life of Ibn al-Rùmì is preserved in the biography of the kàtib, poet and onetime friend of Ibn al-Rùmì, A˙mad ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Ammàr (ibid., 3:233–40).

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(d. 311/923) makes no mention of the poet in his universally acclaimed world history. Though thus apparently enjoying considerable popularity in some quarters, the poet and his verse seem to have been consigned to near oblivion by later generations, only to be resurrected in the early part of the 20th century by the neoclassical poet and statesman Ma˙mùd Sàmì al-Bàrùdì (d. 1904), who included much of his verse in the anthology that he composed to acquaint his contemporaries with the past literary heritage of the Arabs. According to 'Izz alDìn al-Tanùkhì, Ibn al-Rùmì was one of A˙mad Shawqì’s two favorite poets,87 but his real popularization was achieved at the hands of the Dìwàn Group.88 Al-Màzinì himself said of Ibn al-Rùmì, “Of all the Arab poets he is the most preferred by us and the most beloved.”89 In the teens, twenties and thirties of this century, in a series of articles and books, al-Màzinì and al-'Aqqàd expounded their theories of literary criticism, derived primarily from Western sources, and it was particularly Ibn al-Rùmì whom they held up from within the tradition as an example to be emulated because he well exhibited the poetic qualities they espoused. Ibn al-Rùmì’s influence may also be clearly detected in numerous themes, images and conceits employed in their poetry. Both men also composed mu'àra∂àt on his celebrated nùniyyah to Ismà'ìl ibn Bulbul.90 The pioneering efforts of 87 Al-Tanùkhì, “Lughat Shawqì,” in Dhikrà al-Shà'irayn, 393; cited by Brugman, J., An Introduction to the History of Modern Arabic Literature in Egypt (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1984), 38. Al-Mutanabbì was Shawqì’s other favorite poet. 88 The Dìwàn Group comprised 'Abbàs Ma˙mùd al-'Aqqàd (d. 1964), Ibràhìm 'Abd al-Qàdir al-Màzinì (d. 1949) and 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Shukrì (d. 1958). These three men became known as the Dìwàn Group after their “manifesto,” al-Dìwàn fì al-Naqd wa-l-Adab, a book of literary criticism in two volumes written by al-'Aqqàd and al-Màzinì in 1921. The appellation is not particularly appropriate because Shukrì was mercilessly attacked in the book, but it is retained here because it is the generally accepted term. See Salma Khadra Jayyusi, Trends and Movements in Modern Arabic Poetry (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1977), 1:152–75, for a succinct account of the history of this group, its ideology and its aims. It seems that one of the immediate causes of the rupture that occurred between Shukrì and al-Màzinì was the charge of plagiarism that al-Màzinì leveled against his former friend, to which Shukrì in turn responded by accusing al-Màzinì of having plagiarized numerous Western poets and essayists. See Wadì' Jwaidah’s humorous article on al-Màzinì’s attempt to attribute his “borrowings” to tricks that his memory had played on him (Wadì' Jwaidah, “A˙san mà katabahu al-Màzinì,” Al-Makshùf, October 20, 1937). 89 Al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 54. See also Brugman, Modern Arabic Literature in Egypt, 140, 353; and Mu˙ammad Mandùr, al-Shi'r al-Mißrì ba'd Shawqì, 3 vols. (Cairo: Ma'had al-Diràsàt al-'Arabiyyah al-'Àliyyah, 1955), 1:52. 90 This poem was known by its detractors as “Dàr al-Bi††ìkh,” after a fruit market

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al-Bàrùdì, and particularly of al-'Aqqàd and al-Màzinì, were followed by a host of more or less scholarly studies by writers and scholars from Egypt and the Levant. Since 1944 studies on Ibn alRùmì have also appeared in Western languages. Today Ibn al-Rùmì is known particularly for his superstition and divination from omens (al-ta†ayyur, al-†ìrah) and for his ill-omened life, for his propensity to “extract every possible conceit from a given motif and not to abandon it before he has exhausted it”91—variously called “exhausting motifs (istinfàd al-ma'ànì),” “giving motifs their full due (istìfà" al-ma'ànì),” “pursuing motifs to their utmost extreme (istiqßà" al-ma'ànì)” and “killing motifs (imàtat al-ma'ànì),” depending upon the critic’s attitude to the phenomenon, for his resulting long-windedness (†ùl al-nafas) and the extraordinary length of many of his poems, and indeed of his diwan as a whole,92 for his “almost perverse reversal of traditional motifs and themes” (al-taghàyur),93 for his poetic versatility (al-iftinàn) and the composition of poems in every genre,94 for the invention of many original conceits (ikhtirà' al-ma'ànì),95 for his

by that name in Baghdad (see Le Strange, Baghdad during the Caliphate, 85 and 342). It was named thus because the poet compares the physical charms of woman to nine different fruits in the nasìb of the poem. See the translation of the first fifteen lines in Chapter 4–B.iv of Part II. See remarks on the mu'àra∂àt composed by al'Aqqàd and al-Màzinì in the discussion of the translated section of the poem. 91 This is van Gelder’s description of the stylistic technique known today as istiqßà" al-ma'ànì (van Gelder, “The Terrified Traveller,” 37). 92 On the length of his poems, and of his dìwàn—al-Marzubànì described Ibn al-Rùmì as the most prolific poet of his age (Al-Marzubànì, Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128)— see section 4–B.iii of Part II of this study. On the recensions and editions of Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn, see al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 190, al-Sàmarrà"ì, Shu'arà" 'Abbàsiyyùn, 3:364–69, and Gruendler, Patron’s Redemption, 51. 93 This is van Gelder’s description of the ‘figure’ known as al-taghàyur (van Gelder, “The Terrified Traveller,” 47). 94 Al-Marzubànì (al-Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128) described Ibn al-Rùmì as “the most versatile poet of his age (awsa'uhum iftinànan).” For the full translation of this citation, see Chapter 4–A of Part II. 95 For praise of Ibn al-Rùmì’s originality (al-ikhtirà' ) and innovative faculty (alibtidà' ) by medieval critics, see Ibn Sharaf al-Qayrawànì, “Rasà"il al-Intiqàd,” in Rasà"il al-Bulaghà", ed. Mu˙ammad Kurd 'Alì (Cairo: Dàr al-Kutub al-'Arabiyyah al-Kubrà, 1913), 249, and 'Alì ibn ¸àfir al-Azdì al-Mißrì, Gharà"ib al-Tanbìhàt 'alà 'Ajà"ib al-Tashbìhàt, ed. Mu˙ammad Zaghlùl Sallàm and Mu߆afà al-Íàwì al-Juwaynì (Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1983), 47, 83, 108. Among modern critics, Boustany asserts that “in this domain [i.e., the origination of novel conceits and comparisons], Ibn al-Rùmì displays all his virtuosity and without doubt surpasses all other Arab poets” (Boustany, Ibn al-Rùmì, 324). The last two points mentioned above prompted Ibn Rashìq (al-'Umdah, 1:255) to describe Ibn al-Rùmì as “the most deserving of all

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having imposed upon himself difficult rhyme letters, and rhyme conditions,96 for the organic unity which some writers have alleged characterizes his poems,97 and for his invective (hijà"),98 which is so vitriolic that an Arabic proverb designates him the epitome of the foulmouthed, caustic lampooner, in the manner that Óàtim al-ˇà"ì and al-Íamaw"al epitomize the virtues of generosity and loyalty, respectively.99 Finally, he is also well known because of the controversy

people of the name of poet (wa-amà Ibn al-Rùmì fa-awlà al-nàsi bi-ismi shà'irin likathrati ikhtirà'ihi wa-˙usni iftinànih).” In another place, he reiterates his praise of Ibn al-Rùmì’s ability to contrive original conceits, similes and metaphors (inna akthara al-shu'arà"i ikhtirà'an Ibn al-Rùmì) and promises to write a book on the subject (ibid., 2:232). If he did write this book, it is not extant. 96 Al-Marzubànì, al-Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128, Ibn Rashìq, al-'Umdah, 1:137–38, and Shawqì Îayf, al-Fann wa-Madhàhibuhu fì al-Shi'r al-'Arabì, 12th ed. (Cairo: Dàr alMa'àrif, 1993), 216. A case in point is his poem no. 444, translated and analyzed in Part III of this study. Another is his poem that includes his celebrated description of a black cup-bearer (discussed at the end of Chapter 4–B.v.f of Part II). 97 This issue, because of its importance, will be discussed in greater detail in Chapter 4–G of Part II. 98 Al-Marzubànì asserts (Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128) that in his satire, Ibn al-Rùmì was unsurpassed by any of his contemporaries, in terms of both abundance and ferocity (là yal˙aquhu fìhi [al-hijà"] a˙adun min ahli 'aßrihi ghazàrata qawlin wa-khubtha man†iq). Though appreciative of the poet’s originality, Ibn Sharaf asserts that Ibn al-Rùmì’s hijà" “fastened a neck-ring [of shame] around many necks that will last for life-times, indeed for epochs, for which his [Ibn al-Rùmì’s] final reckoning in the Hereafter will be long protracted and his reward denied” (Ibn Sharaf alQayrawànì, Rasà"il al-Intiqàd, 249–50; cited also and partially paraphrased by van Gelder, The Bad and the Ugly: Attitudes towards Invective Poetry (Hijà") in Classical Arabic Literature [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1982] 84 n. 44). Due to the poet’s predilection for the short epigram for his satiric pieces, the number of satires in the poet’s dìwàn far surpasses the number of his panegyrics, even though the number of actual verses of praise exceeds the number of verses of satire (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 325–26). This is not to say that all his satires are short. His two satires addressed to Íà'id ibn Makhlad and his son, Abù 'Ìsà al-'Alà" (Dìwàn ibn al-Rùmì, poems no. 987, 3:1209–14, and 1170, 4:1520–26), for example, comprise 88 and 103 lines, respectively; one addressed to the singer al-Bayn (Dìwàn ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 209, 1:292–97), comprises 100 lines; and his celebrated satire of the officers of the police, government secretaries and merchants (ibid., poem no. 202, 1:279–97) comprises 139 lines. 99 The proverb “More caustic in invective than Ibn al-Rùmì” (ahjà min Ibn alRùmì) is first reported by Ibn Rashìq (al-'Umdah, 1:255). Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì had previously coupled Ibn al-Rùmì with the poet Di'bil al-Khuzà'ì in the following line of verse which made their invective proverbial, “If Fate were just, it would lampoon all men, as if it were al-Rùmì or Di'bil” (cited by al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 170, and Germanus, “Ibn al-Rùmì’s Dichtkunst,” 259). See also a saying attributed to Abù Bakr al-Khwàrizmì, acccording to which invective poetry is associated with Ibn al-Rùmì in the manner that poems of apology are associated with al-Nàbighah, the slanging-matches on parallel themes (naqà"i∂) with Jarìr and al-Farazdaq, wine poems with Abù Nuwàs, garden poems with al-Íanawbarì, the simile with Ibn

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which was raised concerning the extent to which his Greek heritage, or alternatively, the contemporary Islamo-Hellenistic cultural milieu, influenced the themes and stylistics of his poetry.

1–D The “Greek Thesis” The first preserved reference to Ibn al-Rùmì’s indebtedness to Hellenism would be that of the Mu'tazilite historian al-Mas'ùdì (d. 346/957) who wrote of Ibn al-Rùmì that “poetry was only the least of his talents (wa-kàna aqalla adawàtihi al-shi'r),”100 a statement that has been interpreted by a number of modern critics,101 and not without justification,102 to refer to his proficiency in the fields of philosophy, logic and dialectic. This interpretation would seem to be corroborated in the very next sentence by al-Mas'ùdì’s introduction of the poet’s oft-quoted verses on the reason for a new-born infant’s tears as “an example of a wondrous saying of his which is derived from the ideas of the Greek philosophers and the adepts of the ancients,”103

al-Mu'tazz, etc., and together these constitute the finest the tradition has to offer (al-Tha'àlibì, al-Tawfìq li-l-Talfìq, ed. Ibràhìm Íàli˙ [Damascus: Majma' al-Lughah al-'Arabiyyah, 1983], 208–9). It should be noted that the poet was celebrated for both his caustic and his caricaturist satire. 100 Al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:283; trans. S. Boustany, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Ibn al-Rùmì.” 101 See particularly al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 80; see also al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 73. 102 The word Boustany has felicitously translated as “his talents (adawàtih)” would perhaps more accurately be translated as “instruments.” The Arabic sources have many references to the idea that logic is an instrument (àlah) of philosophy (See Shams Inati, “Logic,” in History of Islamic Philosophy, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman [London: Routledge, 2001], 814 and 822 n89). See, for example, the opening definition of logic given by the Nestorian Christian Abù Bishr Mattà ibn Yùnus (d. 328/940) in his famous debate with Abù Sa'ìd al-Sìràfì, (preserved in al-Taw˙ìdì, al-Imtà' wa-l-Mu"ànasah, ed. A˙mad Amìn and A˙mad al-Zayn, 3 vols. [Beirut: Dàr Maktabat al-Óayàt, 1953], 1:109, and trans. Muhsin Mahdi, “Language and Logic in Classical Islam,” in Logic in Classical Islamic Culture, ed. G.E. von Grunebaum [Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1970], 64). See too Abù Sulaymàn al-Man†iqì al-Sijistànì’s definition of logic, again as preserved by al-Taw˙ìdì (alTaw˙ìdì, al-Muqàbasàt, ed. Óasan al-Sandùbì [Cairo: al-Maktabah al-Tijàriyyah alKubrà, 1929], 171). In addition, the Greek word organon, the title given to Aristotle’s logical treatises, in fact means “instrument.” Although the word àlah (plural àlàtun) was not used by al-Mas'ùdì—though it was used by al-'Aqqàd (Ibn ar-Rùmì, 80), perhaps accidentally, in his paraphrase of al-Mas'ùdì’s remark—it is suggested that the former’s choice of the synonym adàtun (plural adawàtun), was intended to have similar implications. 103 “wa-min qawlihi ’l-'ajìbi ’lladhì dhahaba ilà ma'ànì falàsifati ’l-Yùnàniyyìn wa-man

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and his characterization of another set of verses as exemplary of the subtlety of the dialecticians (al-jadaliyyìn).104 About a century after alMas'ùdì, the blind poet and littérateur al-Ma'arrì (d. 449/1057) commented in passing that Ibn al-Rùmì “had pursued the study of philosophy (wa-kàna yata'à†à 'ilm al-falsafah),”105 and in the same sentence remarked that “his learning was greater than his intelligence ( fa-huwa a˙adu man yuqàlu inna adabahu kàna akthara min 'aqlih),”106 thereby implicitly associating him with two of his contemporaries, the philosopher A˙mad ibn al-ˇayyib al-Sarakhsì (d. 286/899),107 and the Mu'tazilite dialectician turned “apostate and heretic (mul˙id zindìq),” Ibn al-Ràwandì (fl. 3rd/9th century),108 who were similarly characterized by this veiled reference to heretical leanings.109 Neither mahara mina l’mutaqaddimìn qawluh . . .”; al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:283. See the discussion of these verses in Chapters 4–C of Part II. 104 “wa-mimmà daqqa fì-hi fa-a˙sana wa-dhahaba ilà ma'nà la†ìfin min an-naûari 'alà tartìbi l-jadaliyyìna wa-†arìqati ˙udhdhàqi l-mutaqaddimìna qawluh . . .”; al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:283. See the discussion of these verses in 2–C of Part I. 105 Al-Ma'arrì, Risàlat al-Ghufràn, 477. 106 Ibid., 476–77. 107 Ibn al-Nadìm (al-Fihrist, 320) states that “A˙mad ibn al-ˇayyib was known more for his learning than his intelligence (wa-kàna ’l-ghàlibu 'alà A˙mad ibn al-ˇayyib 'ilmuhu là 'aqluh).” Both al-Qif†ì, (Akhbàr al-'Ulamà" bi-Akhbàr al-Óukamà" [Cairo: Maktabat al-Mutanabbì, n.d.], 55) and Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ('Uyùn al-Anbà" fì ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 3 vols., 4th ed. [Beirut: Dàr al-Thaqàfah, 1987], 2:191) repeat this formulation verbatim. Rosenthal explains the intent of the formulation by saying that “knowledge could be found with unbelievers . . . but it was a sign of no 'aql, i.e. of foolishness, not to recognize the validity of the orthodox Muslim religion” (Rosenthal, A˙mad b. A†-ˇayyib As-Sara¢sì [New Haven, Ct.: American Oriental Society, 1943], 33). Yàqùt (Mu'jam al-Udabà", 3:101) preserves an anecdote in which the caliph alMu'ta∂id explains to his interlocuter that he had had al-Sarakhsì killed because “he had urged me towards apostasy (da'ànì ilà l-il˙àd).” Al-Bìrùnì reports in his Chronology that al-Sarakhsì had written books in which he denounced prophecy and ridiculed the prophets, whom he styled charlatans (Rosenthal, As-Sarakhsì, 36, 51), and Ya˙yà ibn 'Alì ibn al-Munajjim composed a poem in which he accused the philopher of heretical religious convictions (ibid., 32). For another interpretation of the formulation “his learning was greater than his intelligence” as it applies to al-Sarakhsì, see Rosenthal, al-Sarakhsì, 25–39, who does not accept the historicity of the stories about his having been executed for heretical beliefs. 108 Al-'Abbàsì (Ma'àhid al-Tanßìß, 1:155) reports that “his learning was greater than his intelligence (wa kàna 'ilmuhu akthara min 'aqlih).” Al-Khayyà† repeats this formulation (al-Khayyà†, al-Intißàr wa-l-Radd 'alà Ibn al-Ràwandì al-Mul˙id [Cairo: Maktabat al-Thaqàfah al-Dìniyyah, 1988], 23). In this last work, composed about 279/892, al-Khayyà† describes the tenets espoused by Ibn al-Ràwandì in his polemical writings as “the establishment of heresies (tathbìt al-il˙àd), the negation of God’s unity (ib†àl al-taw˙ìd), the denial of prophecy ( ja˙d al-risàlah), and vilification of the prophets (shatm al-nabiyyìn)” (ibid., 32). 109 The Persian translator Ibn al-Muqaffa' (d. ca. 139/757) was similarly characterized by al-Khalìl ibn A˙mad (wa-'ilmuhu akbaru min 'aqlih) in an anecdote preserved

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al-Mas'ùdì nor al-Ma'arrì, however, offer any substantiation for their assertions, both implied and explicit, concerning the poet’s having studied philosophy or his having been proficient in logic and dialectic. Coming historically between these two men, the critic and anthologist al-Marzubànì (d. 384/994) added to the argument by noting that the poet “would mix his verse with terms from logic, beginning his poetic conceits generally, then particularizing them in ever greater detail.”110 Such observations as the foregoing may have been responsible for the original conception of the “Greek thesis” but the Dìwàn Group was responsible for its popularization and propagation. Al-'Aqqàd’s interest in Ibn al-Rùmì began early, and he may very well have been directed to the poet by these observations by medieval critics. Under the influence of Tito Vignoli’s Myth and Science,111 al-'Aqqàd began, at least as early as 1913,112 to distinguish between the Semitic

by al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à (Amàlì al-Murta∂à, 1:136) and by Ibn Nubàtah (Sar˙ al-'Uyùn, Shar˙ Risàlat Ibn Zaydùn, Turàth al-Arab Series, No. 4 [Cairo: Mu߆afà al-Bàbì al-Óalabì wa-Awlàduh, 1957], 153). Pertinent too are the disparaging remarks made about Ibn al-Muqaffa' attributed to the Mu'tazilite Abù Bakr al-Aßamm (d. 200/815–16): “In spite of the abundance of his learning (ghazàrat 'ilmih) and the extent of his erudition, this 'Abd Allàh ibn al-Muqaffa' is, as God has said, ‘like the donkey that carries heavy tomes.’ His erudition has undermined him, his mind has distracted him, his philosophy has blinded him, and his clear-sightedness has confounded him” (al-Jà˙iΩ, “Risàlat Dhamm Akhlàq al-Kuttàb,” in Rasà"il al-Jà˙iΩ, ed. 'Abd al-Salàm Mu˙ammad Hàrùn, 2 vols. [Cairo: Maktabat al-Khànjì, 1965], 2:195). Ibn al-Muqaffa' was a convert from Zoroastrianism and the sincerity of his conversion was impugned by his enemies. The caliph al-Mahdì is reported to have said of him, “I have never come across a book of zandaqah but that its source is Ibn al-Muqaffa'” (al-Murta∂à, Amàlì al-Murta∂à, 1:134–35). See J.D. Latham, “Ibn al-Muqaffa' and Early 'Abbasid Prose,” in 'Abbasid Belles-Lettres, ed. Juliana Ashtiany et al. (Cambridge: University Press, 1990), 48–77, for an account of his career, translations and adaptations of non-Arabic works, and original treatises, including an “Imitation of the Quran (Mu'àra∂at al-Qur"àn),” and a Manichean “apologia” which opens with a heretical version of the basmalah, “In the name of Light (nùr), the most Merciful, the most Compassionate. See also note 92 in Part 1, Chapter 2–B.iii. For another interpretation of the formulation “his learning was greater than his intellect” as applied to al-Sarakhsì and Ibn al-Muqaffa', see Melhem Chokr, Zandaqa et Zindiqs en Islam au second siècle de l’hégire (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1993), 195. 110 Al-Marzubànì, Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128 (wa-yakhli†u kalàmahu bi-alfàΩin man†iqiyyatin yujmilu lahà ’l-ma'ànìya thumma yufaßßiluhà). See also Chapter 4–D of Part II. 111 He himself tells us this in his article “Àrà" fì al-Asà†ìr,” first published in his book al-Fußùl (Cairo: Ma†ba'at al-Sa'àdah, 1922), 28. 112 See “al-Shi'r wa-Mazàyàh,” an introduction he wrote to Shukrì’s second dìwàn (Dìwàn 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Shukrì, 1st. ed., ed. Niqùlà Yùsuf [Alexandria: Mansha" alMa'àrif, 1960; originally published in 1913], 97–106).

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and Aryan races in terms of the relative poverty and richness of their respective personifying and myth-generating imaginations, one of the “essentializing conceptualizations”113 that were popular among Western anthropologists and orientalists of the 19th century. He further developed this thesis in his article “Àrà" fì al-Asà†ìr,” published in 1922. It seems reasonable to assume that it was his interest in the “Aryan” imagination, coupled perhaps also with Nazism’s similarly genetically and ethnically based “Aryan” proposition,114 which prompted the Dìwàn Group’s desire to find an Arabic poet of “Aryan” origin who exhibited some of the characteristics that have been attributed to this allegedly superior poetic genius, in order to support their burgeoning literary theories. It was thus perhaps the comments of al-Mas'ùdì, al-Ma'arrì and al-Marzubànì, cited above, associating the poet with Hellenism and the Greek philosophical tradition, which led al-'Aqqàd and al-Màzinì to Ibn al-Rùmì, or perhaps it was simply the poet’s name, or perhaps the discovery was more fortuitous.115 They were not the first to make the connection between the poet’s Greek heritage and his unique style; years before al-'Aqqàd’s controversial assertions Sulaymàn al-Bustànì had suggested that it was either the poet’s ethnicity ( jurthùmah fì aßlih), or his knowledge of the Greek poetic tradition, “which had induced him to emulate Homer in much of his style, and many of his conceits (ma'ànìh) and similes.”116 At any rate, both al-'Aqqàd and al-Màzinì were unabashedly

113 This is the formulation Dimitri Gutas uses to designate the numerous reductionist concepts and explanations encountered in discussions of the Arab appropriation of Greek science, such as the “creativity” or lack thereof of Arabs and Semites (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 150, 188 n. 3). 114 I thank Prof. Ma˙mùd 'Alì Makkì of Cairo University for this suggestion. They may have been motivated also by the tendency in some quarters at that time to separate the Egyptian mentality ('aql ) from the “Arab,” an ideology which found an “unequivocal and rather challenging” articulation in ˇàhà Óusayn’s Mustaqbal al-Thaqàfah fì Mißr (Brugman, Introduction, 364–65; see also Hourani, Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age 1798–1939 [London: Oxford University Press, 1962], 327–38). 115 Brugman states that al-Màzinì himself “admitted” that it was Mu˙ammad alSibà'ì who first introduced Ibn al-Rùmì to him, and notes that his first series of articles on the poet, appearing in 1913–14, were published in al-Sibà'ì’s magazine al-Bayàn. Apparently, Brugman adds, “the picturesque al-Sibà'ì copied parts of the dìwàn of Ibn al-Rùmì in an exercise-book . . . which he always carried with him.” (Brugman, Introduction, 103; see also ibid., 140). 116 Sulaymàn al-Bustànì, Ilyàdhat Hùmìrùs, Mu'arrabatan NaΩman (Cairo: Matba'at al-Hilàl, 1904), 154–55. Interestingly, the poem which prompted Sulaymàn alBustànì’s comparison of Ibn al-Rùmì and Homer, both stylistically and thematically, was the very one (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 13022 [1780] 6:2419–35)

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effusive in their praise of the “Aryan” genius and art,117 and alMàzinì was particularly insistent on describing Ibn al-Rùmì’s origin as “Aryan.”118 In his introduction to Kàmil Kìlànì’s early edition of selections from Ibn al-Rùmì’s dìwàn, published in 1924, al-'Aqqàd attributed the poet’s style, unanimously acknowledged among critics as unique, as well as the near oblivion to which he had been consigned by later generations, to his “Greekness (al-rùmiyyah)” and the consequent unfamiliarity of his art to prevailing taste. With characteristic brashness, al-'Aqqàd wrote: He spoke to them [his contemporaries] from a nature and temperament different from theirs, addressed them with a poetry that shared with the Arabic language only its words and letters, while its meanings and themes were ore from a different mine altogether, from a world far distant. One need not ponder long over his biographical details, nor delve deeply into the history of his age, to discover the secret of this curious temperament by which he became distinguished from the other poets of this language. Indeed, the name by which he became known in the tradition is a sufficiently clear clue; it is his Byzantine origin (nisbatuhu ilà al-Rùm) and the difference that subsists between that race and the one in whose language, words and meters he composed his poetry. Indeed, this “Greekness” (al-rùmiyyah) is the root source of Ibn alRùmì’s art, by which he differed from the the generality of poets who composed verse in this language; it is the feature which isolated him from them, to the extent that he became like a bird singing among others of a different feather. . . .”119 which inspired al-Màzinì’s and al-'Aqqàd’s mu'àra∂ahs, or imitations. See note 90 of Chapter 1–C of Part I. 117 Al-Màzinì said of the Aryan peoples: “No one denies that the Aryan peoples are the most perceptive of the charms of nature, the sublimity of the human soul, and the beauty of Truth and Virtue, except the stubborn and undiscerning, or the man so blinded by his absurd partiality and racism that he is unable to realize this” (al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 39). 118 Ibid., 39. 119 Al-'Aqqàd, introduction to Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, ed. Kàmil Kìlànì (Cairo: alMaktabah al-Tijàriyyah al-Kubrà, 1924), p. dàl. In the same vein but slightly later, ˇàhà Óusayn similarly attempted to attribute Abù Tammàm’s unique style to his Greek descent. In the preface to his edition of the rhetorical treatise known until his time as Naqd al-Nathr and attributed to Qudàmah ibn Ja'far, he asserted that not so much the proliferation and predominance of rhetorical figures in the poetry of Abù Tammàm, but rather his “very conception of poetry itself ( fì taßawwurihi lil-shi'ri nafsih), his extreme concern with the precision of his ideas and the unity of his poems, his fondness for the description of nature and predilection for the insertion of philosophical ideas in his poetry, regardless of the subject at hand,” were

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In his book Ibn al-Rùmì: Óayàtuh min Shi'rih, published in 1931,120 al'Aqqàd later modified, or, as he himself insisted, clarified, this clearly exaggerated position. In response to the considerable criticism he encountered,121 he maintained that he had used the terms “Greekness (al-rùmiyyah)” and “Greek genius (al-'abqariyyatu l-yùnàniyyah)” to characterize the poet’s style and oeuvre, not in any genetically inherited sense, but rather in a literary classificatory sense.122 Whatever the case may be, it is interesting to note the extent to which this “ethnic” or “genetic” argument took root among the Egyptian critics and all to be explained by his Greek descent, and he thus regarded his poetry as evidence of the Hellenization of the Islamic world (ˇàhà Óusayn, “al-Bayàn al-'Arabì min al-Jà˙iΩ ilà 'Abd al-Qàhir,” trans. from the French by 'Abd al-Óamìd al'Abbàdì and forming the preface to Kitàb Naqd al-Nathr, attributed to Qudàmah ibn Ja'far [Cairo: Lajnat al-Ta"lìf wa-l-Tarjamah wa-l-Nashr, 1937], 9). 120 The book was originally published, in 1931, under the title Ibn al-Rùmì, Óayàtuhu wa Khulquhu wa Shi'ruh. It was re-published in 1937 as Ibn al-Rùmì, Óayàtuhu wa Shi'ruh (Brugman, Introduction, 349). 121 The issues of the extent to which the poet’s Greek heritage influenced his style, and whether he actually knew Greek, were further debated by ˇàhà Óusayn (Min Óadìth al-Shi'r wa-l-Nathr, 10th ed. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, n.d.; originally published in 1936], 136–39), and 'Umar Farrùkh, in a booklet he published in Beirut in 1942 entitled Ibn al-Rùmì. The vitriolic and quite personal nature of the debate may be surmised from 'Umar Farrùkh’s article “Óuqùq al-Munàqashah,” (al-Adìb, Tishrìn al-Awwal [October], 1946; reprinted in A˙mad Yùsuf 'Alì, al-Óiwàr alNaqdì ˙awla al-Shà'ir [Cairo: al-Sharikah al-'Arabiyyah li-l-Nashr wa-l-Tawzì', n.d.], 180–88) in which the author reproduces some of the exchanges between himself and al-'Aqqàd. In a book prepared for 4th and 5th year students of Egyptian secondary schools by ˇàhà Óusayn, A˙mad Amìn, 'Alì al-Jàrim and others, and published in 1931, the editors remark that Ibn al-Rùmì was influenced in his art both by his “Hellenistic disposition (bi-mizàjihi al-yùnànì)” and by “the Arabic culture” of contemporary Baghdad (al-Muntakhab min Adab al-'Arab, ed. ˇàhà Óusayn, A˙mad al-Iskandarì, A˙mad Amìn, 'Alì al-Jàrim, 'Abd al-'Azìz al-Bishrì and A˙mad Îayf [Cairo: Dàr al-Kutub al-Mißriyyah, 1931], 248 n. 3). Mu˙ammad al-Nuwayhì also devotes considerable attention to this issue, refuses to “be swayed by the deceptively tempting notion of the foreignness of his genius” and argues that the poet’s “peculiar genius” and unique style should more correctly be attributed to individual psychological factors, coupled with the political, social, material, intellectual, religious and artistic circumstances of his age (al-Nuwayhì, Thaqàfat al-Nàqid al-Adabì, 262–82). 122 Al-'Aqqàd, Ibn al-Rùmì, 234. In this book, al-'Aqqàd thus recanted his earlier “genetic/racial” explanation of the poet’s genius, but unlike ˇàhà Óusayn and Mu˙ammad al-Nuwayhì who came to prefer explanations based on social and historical factors, al-'Aqqàd developed a psychological approach to literature (manhaj nafsì) which emphasized the impact of a writer’s personality on his work, in which the writer’s personality in the main was “the key to the explanation and appreciation of his work” (Brugman, Introduction, 348–50). For his part, Mu˙ammad Mandùr devoted considerable attention to exposing the inadequacies of al-'Aqqàd’s psychological approach to literary criticism (Mandùr, al-Naqd wa al-Nuqqàd al-Mu'àßirùn, 84–158, esp. 145–58).

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intelligentsia, particularly during the 1920s and 1930s. ˇàhà Óusayn, for example, wavered between ascribing the poet’s unique style to an inherited disposition, on the one hand, or to the “Graeco-Islamic” cultural environment in which the poet lived, and from which he drew his inspiration, on the other, before finally, and with evident hesitation, pronouncing in favor of the latter.123 Similarly, al-Màzinì grappled with the issue, but seems not to have been persuaded from the “genetic” argument. Thus, after noting that most of the great poets and men of letters deserving of precedence within the tradition were in fact of non-Arab origin, he writes: We know that heredity has an effect upon the constitution of the body and the disposition of the intellect that is not to be overlooked, and thus it is not deemed strange that one such as Ibn al-Rùmì, who is of Aryan origin, being half Persian and half Byzantine, should inherit many of the qualities and attributes of his race, and resemble them more than he resembles the Arabs. Let it suffice for the reader to compare any poem by Ibn al-Rùmì with another by any poet reckoned among the genuine Arab poets (min ßamìm shu'arà" al-'Arab), in any genre or on any theme, for him to understand the difference between the two manners of composition, and to realize that Ibn al-Rùmì was more similar to the poets of the West, though he remained an Arab in his language and subject matter.124

Later al-Màzinì even more emphatically registers his espousal of the “genetic/ethnic” argument: But he [Ibn al-Rùmì] differs from them, or many of them [the men of letters of non-Arab origin], and is at variance from them, in that he maintained and preserved the nature of the race from which he was descended, such that this “Greekness” of his (rùmiyyatuh), to which he holds fast, and [in fact] emphasizes, never concealing it nor vitiating it with [claims of his] Persianness, is the key to his poetry and his personality. There is, in fact, no means to understanding and appreciating it [his poetry] without heeding it [his Greekness] and taking it into consideration. Indeed, one is justified in positing it as testimony to the strength and impact of heredity, in spite of all factors that militate against it.125

A˙mad Amìn similarly attributes Ibn al-Rùmì’s unique style to the poet’s Greek or Byzantine heritage. Describing the effect of the arrival 123 124 125

ˇàhà Óusayn, Min Óadìth al-Shi'r wa al-Nathr, 136–38. Al-Màzinì, Ibn al-Rùmì, 39. Ibid., 64.

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and incorporation within 'Abbàsid society of large numbers of Byzantines, originally largely prisoners of war, on contemporary intellectual life in language that betrays his advocacy of the “genetic” argument, Amìn writes, “This Byzantine element begot (anjaba hàdhà al-'unßur al-rùmì) men of letters and scholars whose work and art bore a peculiar stamp unfamiliar to the prevailing Arab and Persian taste and mentality.”126 Mentioning Ibn al-Rùmì and the Mu'tazilite grammarian Ibn Jinnì (d. 392/1001–02) as examples of scholars and poets thus influenced, he goes on to explain how this Greek impress is observable in the poetry of Ibn al-Rùmì: There are distinctive features in his poetry that are rarely found together in any other poet of the Arabic language, and which more closely resemble the Greek spirit (al-rù˙ al-rùmì). He is long-winded and prolix to an extent that is rarely matched, and when he takes hold of a conceit (ma'nà), he pursues it to the fullest extent in order that no remnant or remainder is left unsaid (wa-yastaqßì fìhi ˙attà là yada'a fì-hi fa∂latan wa là baqiyyah). And he is much given to elucidating and explaining his poetic propositions (wa-hwa kathìr al-ta'lìl li-mà yaqùl), just as one does with theorems in geometry.127

As “proof ” of his contention, he then offers Ibn al-Rùmì’s oft-quoted verses explaining the reasons for a newborn infant’s tears. He concludes this discussion by saying of the poet and the grammarian and others like them that they were “Arab in respect to their places of birth and upbringing, but they were Greek in respect to their inherited mentality (wa-kànù rùman bi 'aqlihim al-mawrùth), and they combined their innate mentality (al-'aql al-ma†bù') with their acquired one (al-'aql al-maßnù') to produce a sound product with a distinctive flavor.”128 As the “genetic” argument is no longer intellectually or politically

126 A˙mad Amìn, ¸uhr al-Islàm, 2 vols., 3rd ed. (Cairo: Maktabat al-Nah∂ah alMißriyyah, 1962), 1:67. 127 Ibid. 128 Ibid., 69. Yet another proponent of the “genetic theory” is Bu†rus al-Bustànì who “was of the opinion that Ibn al-Rùmì’s prolixity, the unity of his poems, and even his humorous descriptions, are attributable to his Greek origin (“meint daß Ibn Rùmìs Weitschweifigkeit, seine einheitliche Versstruktur, ja sogar auch seine spaßhaften Beschreibungen seinem griecheschen Ursprung zuzuschreiben sind)” (Bustànì, Udabà" al-'Arab, 2:294; cited and trans. Germanus, “Ibn-Rùmì’s Dichtkunst,” 278). An extract from the Arabic original of al-Bustànì’s argument is provided by 'Umar Farrùkh in his article “Óuqùq al-Munàqashah,” and reprinted in A˙mad Yùsuf 'Alì, al-Óiwàr al-Naqdì ˙awl al-Shà'ir, 181.

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sustainable, and in any case is unsubstantiated, it will not be further entertained here, but what is of interest is the extent to which the recently translated Greek philosophical sciences allegedly had an effect on Ibn al-Rùmì’s poetic style. Which elements of the poet’s style prompted highly reputed men of letters, such as al-Mas'ùdì and al-Ma'arrì, to claim that he was a student of philosophy and logic when, as has been seen and in spite of numerous apparently baseless similar assertions by modern critics, there are no sources at our disposal which support this claim?129 Precisely which aspects of his style betray these alleged influences?

1–E The Case of Rhyme vs. Reason (Opening Statement) Perhaps the most succinct expression of the majority assessment of Ibn al-Rùmì’s style is the following oft-cited group of verses by Ibn al-Rùmì’s contemporary, the poet al-Bu˙turì (d. 284/897), composed both by way of criticism of the style of his former patron, 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn ˇàhir, and implicitly also of the latter’s protégé, Ibn al-Rùmì,130 and also by way of vindication of his own very different poetic style:

129

See the discussion of Ibn al-Rùmì’s education in Chapter 1–A of Part I. These verses are from a poem of satire that is but one in a series of poems by a number of poets who participated in this “literary battle (al-ma'rakah alqalamiyyah),” or “versified altercation (al-mulà˙àh al-shi'riyyah),” as the editor of alBu˙turì’s dìwàn, Óasan Kàmil al-Íìrafì, chose to call it (Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, 4:2480 and 2435). Some background information would be in order. Al-Bu˙turì seems to have had a close relationship with several of the sons of the powerful ˇàhirid 'Abd Allàh ibn ˇàhir, particularly his son Mu˙ammad ibn 'Abd Allàh (d. 253/867), to whom he dedicated five panegyric odes. His relations with 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Abd Allàh (d. 300/912–13), a very important patron of Ibn al-Rùmì (see his biography in Chapter 2–E.i of Part I), were initially cordial and the poet dedicated a paneygyric poem to him (see Gruendler, Patron’s Redemption, 18–21, for a description and analysis of this poem). Not long thereafter, however, 'Ubayd Allàh seems to have denied al-Bu˙turì access to himself, perhaps as the result of misrepresentations and slander made against the poet by those in the ˇàhirid’s entourage who were jealous of him. In a panegyric al-Bu˙turì dedicated to his patron Ibn Bis†àm shortly thereafter (Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, poem no. 97, 1:277–81), 'Ubayd Allàh perceived a satiric allusion to his own person (discussed by the editor, ibid., 4:2475), and responded with a 73-line poem of satire in the same rhyme and meter as al-Bu˙turì’s poem, which is included in an appendix to the poet’s dìwàn (ibid., 4:2481–90). Thus began the series of poems that constitute this poetic battle, according to the editor of al-Bu˙turì’s dìwàn, in the year 269 A.H. (ibid., 1:207, 212, 277, and 4:2435). The verses translated below are from a satiric rejoinder by al-Bu˙turì in the same 130

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14. You’ve imposed upon me the strictures of your logic whose truths would put an end to poetry’s charming lie! 15. “He of the Ulcers” (Imru" al-Qays) was no devotee of logic; What genus is it, and what is its cause? 16. For poetry consists in mere glimpses, enough the subtle sign, not in idle rambling on protracted propositions.131 [1]

rhyme and meter as 'Ubayd Allàh’s poem. Although Boustany maintains that Ibn al-Rùmì remained silent throughout this “joute poétique,” suggesting that his reluctance to take sides may be attributable to a desire to see his patron administered a lesson (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 149), it seems all but certain that the poet did, in fact, enter the fray. In the first appendix to al-Bu˙turì’s dìwàn (Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, 4:2465–66, 2472–93), the editor discusses in detail the series of poems that constitute this poetic duel and the circumstances in which the dispute arose, in the course of which he maintains that Ibn al-Rùmì’s “hidden fingers” may be discerned “fomenting the altercation [between 'Ubayd Allàh and al-Bu˙turì] and fanning its flames” (ibid., 2466, 2475, 2476, 2477). Al-Íìrafì cites verses from Ibn al-Rùmì’s poem no. 215 (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, 1:300–13), an elaborate 154-line panegyric addressed to 'Ubayd Allàh in the same rhyme and meter as al-Bu˙turì’s panegyric dedicated to Ibn Bis†àm and 'Ubayd Allàh’s 73–line response (and later also, al-Bu˙turì’s retaliatory rejoinder containing the verses cited below), and demonstrates how the very wording of the poem, in addition to its rhyme and meter, was influenced by that of al-Bu˙turì’s poem (wa-min 'ajabin ka-dhàlika annanà narà Ibn al-Rùmì ta"aththara fìhà bi-akthar alfàΩ al-Bu˙turì wa-aqwàlihi fì qaßìdatih; Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, 4:2466, 2476–77). Ibn al-Rùmì commences this lengthy panegyric with a 34-line nasìb on his favored theme of al-shayb wa-l-shabàb, then turns abruptly in line 35 to address al-Bu˙turì, whom he refers to cryptically as “a friend,” with a line, the 2nd hemistich of which is modeled directly on the opening line of al-Bu˙turì’s poem dedicated to Ibn Bis†àm, and the 3rd line of 'Ubayd Allàh’s reponse (See Gruendler, The Patron’s Redemption, 210–213, for a translation and analysis of the first 25 lines of this section of the poem). Numerous other similarities of diction and imagery in the three poems leave no doubt that Ibn al-Rùmì was personally involved in this acrimonious dispute—a single verse from a poem of satire addressed to al-Bu˙turì by Ibn Abì ˇàhir ˇayfùr in the same rhyme and meter as these poems and cited by alMarzubànì (see Chapter 4–H of Part II) makes it clear that at least four poets were involved. That the poetry of Ibn al-Rùmì would seem also to have been intended by al-Bu˙turì’s verses quoted below may be inferred by the close and long relationship enjoyed by Ibn al-Rùmì with 'Ubayd Allàh (at the time of this dispute, their relationship had already lasted 16 years), and, more importantly, by the length which characterizes not only 'Ubayd Allàh’s bà"iyyah (73 lines), to which al-Bu˙turì was directly responding, but also by the extreme length of many of Ibn al-Rùmì’s poems. What is clear, however, is that Ibn al-Rùmì did respond to al-Bu˙turì’s accusations, as is apparent from an examination of al-Íìrafì’s verse citations in his recapitulation of this “joute poétique,” and other verses and facts not mentioned by the editor. Ibn al-Rùmì’s response to al-Bu˙turì will be discussed in Chapter 4–H of Part II. The other pieces of satire exchanged between 'Ubayd Allàh and al-Bu˙turì are either little more than coarse invective, or do not seriously address issues of poetic style, and are thus not relevant to the present study. 131 Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, poem no. 68, verses 14–16, 1:209. Numerous scholars and

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The series of poems by al-Bu˙turì and 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Abd Allàh that constitute this “joute poétique (poetic joust),” “mulà˙àh shi'riyyah (versified contest of recrimination),” or “ma'rakah qalamiyyah (battle of the quills),” in addition to Ibn al-Rùmì’s poem mentioned in the note above, and a second poem discussed in Chapter 4–H of Part II of this study, do indeed present an interesting and succinct account of two different conceptions of the nature of the poetic art. Heinrichs has summarized 'Ubayd Allàh’s (and, by extension, Ibn al-Rùmì’s) criticism of al-Bu˙turì as “the reasoned protest of those grounded in the philosophical sciences against the hallowed views on poetry prescribed by tradition.”132 Al-Bu˙turì’s verdict in this debate presented above clearly tallies with the time-honored criterion of ìjàz or ikhtißàr (terseness, concision, succinctness), “which is one of the basic ideas of literary theory, being the constituent quality of liter-

critics, Oriental and Western, have devoted attention to these celebrated lines. See, for example, 'Abd al-Qàhir ibn 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Jurjànì, Asràr al-Balàghah, ed. H. Ritter (Istanbul: Ma†ba'at Wizàrat al-Ma'àrif, 1954), 249–51, where, however, only verse 14 is cited and discussed, in connection with the two dicta “the best of poetry is the most feigning (khayr al-shi'r akdhabuhu)” and “the best of poetry is the most truthful (khayr al-shi'r aßdaquhu).” See 'Abd al-Qàhir al-Jurjànì, Die Geheimnisse der Wortkunst [Asràr al-Balàghah] des 'Abdalqàhir al-Curcànì, trans. Hellmut Ritter (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1959), 291, and Vicente Cantarino, Arabic Poetics in the Golden Age (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975), 164, for German and English translations, respectively, of al-Jurjànì’s comments. See also Wolfhart Heinrichs, Arabische Dichtung und griechische Poetik: Óàzim al-Qar†àjannì’s Grundlegung der Poetik mit Hilfe Aristotelischer Begriffe, Beiruter Texte und Studien, vol. 8 (Beirut/Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1969), 37–38; J. Christoph Bürgel, “‘Die beste Dichtung is die lügenreichste’: Wesen und Bedeutung eines literarischen Streites des arabischen Mittelalters im Lichte komparatistischer Betrachtung,” Oriens, 23–24 (1974): 70; Jaroslav Stetkevych, The Zephyrs of Najd: The Poetics of Nostalgia in the Classical Arabic Nasìb (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1993), 3 and 237 n. 10, where, however, only verse 14 is translated and discussed; Pieter Smoor, “Elegies and other Poems on Death by Ibn alRùmì,” Journal of Arabic Literature 27, no. (1996): 59–60; and Amjad Trabulsi, La critique poétique des Arabes jusqu’au V e siècle de l’Hégire (Damascus: Institut français de Damas, 1955), 69. In the last mentioned source, the three verses are translated according to their version in al-Barqùqì’s edition of the dìwàn (al-Bu˙turì, Dìwàn al-Bu˙turì, ed. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Efendì al-Barqùqì, 2 vols. [Cairo: Ma†ba'at Hindiyyah, 1911], 1:38), which is the same as that given in al-Íìrafì’s edition, but in his appendix of Arabic texts (Trabulsi, La Critique poétique, 263) the 2nd hemistich of verse 14 is given as “the wonders of poetry dismiss its [logic’s] utterances as contemptible (wa-"sh-shi'ru yuzrì bi-nu†qihi 'ajabuh).” It is a translation of this other version of the 2nd hemistich of verse 14 that Heinrichs provides (Heinrichs, Arabische Dichtung, 38). Unfortunately, Trabulsi does not tell us where he found this other version. 132 “der Einspruch der Vernunft des philosophisch Gebildeten gegen die in der Dichtung von der Tradition vorgeschriebenen Anschauungen” (Heinrichs, Arabische Dichtung, 38; also cited and trans. by Beatrice Gruendler, The Patron’s Redemption, 44).

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ary expression in general” in the Arab tradition,133 and this perhaps partly explains Ibn al-Rùmì’s apparent lack of success as a poet, and the oblivion to which he was consigned until recently as well. AlBu˙turì refers not only to the issue of prolixity, however, but also to that of prosaic (one might say oratorical) clarity and the effect of “the strictures of logic” on contemporary poetics, a remark which naturally begs investigation.

133 Heinrichs, “Literary Theory: The Problem of its Efficiency,” in Arabic Poetry: Theory and Development, ed. G.E. von Grunebaum (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1973), 48.

CHAPTER TWO

IBN AL-RÙMÌ, THE TIMES

2–A Introduction When discussing the question of influences, and particularly of the influence of the sciences, both physical and philosophical, of one culture upon an individual of another culture, one might naturally begin by enquiring into the influence of that culture generally upon the culture in which the individual lived, particularly as intellectual life, in general, “is the life of an epoch, not of individuals.”1 Furthermore, when discussing the influence of one culture upon another, of paramount importance is the establishment of the degree of “permeability” of the “receiving” culture, and the scope of the alleged influence. Accordingly, the remainder of this chapter will be devoted to a discussion of Ibn al-Rùmì’s intellectual environment and the influences that came to bear upon that environment, while Part II of this study will examine the alleged influence of that environment in turn on the poet’s art. Von Grunebaum, in his discussion of “cultural influence,” has delineated three areas in which one system of thought may affect another: “vantage point, or objective; method; or content, of the receiving system, both jointly or severally.” He continues, saying that “influence goes deepest when it affects vantage point, or objective; least deep when it remains confined to the material content on or with which the receiving system operates.”2 In the case of the poet Ibn al-Rùmì, it will be argued in the present study that, contrary to the premature assertions of al-'Aqqàd, al-Màzinì, Tàhà Óusayn, A˙mad Amìn, Sulaymàn and Bu†rus al-Bustànì reviewed above, the fundamental structure of the poet’s thought, his “vantage point,” was largely untouched by Hellenistic influence, much less affected by any

1

Rosenthal, as-Sarakhsì, 15. Grunebaum, Gustave E. von, “The Problem of Cultural Influence,” Charisteria orientalia (1956), reprinted as article VIII in Islam and Medieval Hellenism: Social and Cultural Perspectives, ed. Dunning S. Wilson (London: Variorum Reprints, 1976), 91. 2

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genetically inherited characteristics. In this he was little different from the great majority of his contemporaries. By contrast, however, his method was greatly affected by these influences, and the content of his thought significantly enriched, and it is in his themes and stylistics, acknowledged by all critics that have studied him as singular and unique, that these influences may be sought. In this regard, one must keep in mind the fact that the 3rd/9th century, during which the poet Ibn al-Rùmì lived, was a time of great intellectual ferment in the Islamic world, largely as a result of the recent introduction, through translation from Persian and Sanskrit, but primarily from Greek and Syriac, of important scientific and philosophical treatises. Ibn Qutaybah’s critical remarks about his, and thus also Ibn al-Rùmì’s, contemporaries’ preoccupation with matters of philosophy, logic and astrology, with Aristotle’s Organon, his Physica and his De generatione et corruptione, and their neglect, even belittlement of the “Arab sciences,” are well known.3 More important to them than God himself, he says derisively, is that it be said of them “So and so is intellectually refined (la†ìf ), so and so is discerning (daqìq al-naΩar).”4 Equally significant is al-Jà˙iΩ’s observation that the chancellery secretary in his day “approves of no books but [Aristotle’s] Logic (là yarta∂ì [al-kàtib] min al-kutub illà al-man†iq).”5

3 Ibn Qutaybah, Adab al-Kàtib, ed. Mu˙ammad al-Dàlì, 2nd ed. (Beirut: Mu"assasat al-Risàlah, 1985), 5–9. Much of this lengthy passage is cited in al-'Aqqàd, Ibn alRùmì, 33–34. See also Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 38, 93. 4 Ibn Qutaybah, Adab al-Kàtib, 6–7. Ibn Qutaybah’s sarcastic characterization of Mu˙ammad ibn al-Jahm al-Barmakì (Ta"wìl Mukhtalaf al-Óadìth, ed. Mu˙ammad Zahrì al-Najjàr [Cairo: Maktabat al-Kulliyàt al-Azhariyyah, 1966], 49; cited also by Khalìl Mardam Bey, Dìwàn 'Alì ibn al-Jahm, 8, where, however, he incorrectly identifies him as the elder brother of the poet 'Alì ibn al-Jahm; cited also by the editor of al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Bukhalà", ed. Tàhà al-Óàjirì, 5th ed. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1990], 372) must be viewed in the same light. “His Qur"àn is the books of Aristotle . . .,” Ibn Qutaybah writes, “with which he whiles away his life (maß˙afuhu kutubu Aris†ù†àlìs . . . bi-hà yaq†a'u 'umrah).” Al-Jà˙iΩ styles Mu˙ammad ibn al-Jahm one of “the philosopher Mutakallimùn” (al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 2:140) and relates an anecdote in which Mu˙ammad says of himself that when drowsiness inopportunely overtakes him, he takes a book of philosophy in hand which “arouses him more forcefully than the braying of a donkey or the heavy thud of a collapsing object” (ibid., 1:53). Al-Jà˙iΩ reports too that Mu˙ammad ibn al-Jahm conducted disputations with the dualists in al-Ma"mùn’s salons (ibid., 4:442). 5 Al-Jà˙iΩ, Kitàb Dhamm Akhlàq al-Kuttàb, in Rasà"il al-Jà˙iΩ, 2:194. See also the Mu'tazilite Thumàmah ibn Ashras’s scornful remarks (ibid., 2:195) about the shallow and indiscriminate preoccupation of the secretaries with the sciences, philosophy and philosophical speculation (al-'ulùm, al-˙ikmah, al-fa˙ß wa-’n-naΩar) which only leads them into error.

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Though exaggerated, the remarks of these two polymaths of the 3rd/9th century nonetheless provide an important glimpse into the intellectual life of the poet’s age. Equally illuminating is al-Mas'ùdì’s description of the subjects discussed at the salon of the vizier Ya˙yà ibn Khàlid al-Barmakì (d. 191/805),6 including very sophisticated issues from philosophy, theology, natural science and physics, with numerous quotations from Hippocrates, Galen, Plato, etc.7 This, it should be borne in mind, was well over a generation before Ibn alRùmì’s birth.8 It is important to bear in mind here too the fact that the Arabs, or, more properly, the medieval Arab philosophers, following a tradition well-established among the late Greek commentators of the school of Alexandria,9 expanded the scope and contents of Aristotle’s Organon, the title given since about 200 A.D. to his logical treatises, to include also the Rhetoric and the Poetics.10 The Arab philosophers 6 For the origins and history of the illustrious Barmak family, and an account of their administrative functions in the early 'Abbàsid caliphate, see Dominique Sourdel, Le Vizirat 'Abbàside de 749 à 946 (132 à 324 de l’Hégire), 2 vols. (Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1960), 1:127–81. 7 Al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 3:379–84. 8 In his discussion of the influence of Greek speculation on the development of theosophical Sufism, Nicholson refers to the “stream of Hellenic culture” that “flowed unceasingly into the Moslem world” during the 75 year period from the accession of Hàrùn al-Rashìd (170/786) until the assassination of al-Mutawakkil (247/861) (Nicholson, A Literary History of the Arabs, 7th ed. [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962], 388). 9 In 1934 Richard Walzer established definitively that the inclusion of the Poetics among the logical works of Aristotle, the Organon, was not an oriental innovation, as previously believed, but a well-established late Classical tradition (R. Walzer, “Zur Traditionsgeschichte der Aristotelischen Poetik,” in Greek into Arabic: Essays on Islamic Philosophy (Oxford: Bruno Cassirer Ltd., 1962), 129–36]. See also Nicholas Rescher, The Development of Arabic Logic (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1964), 18; Kees Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thought III: The Arabic Linguistic Tradition (London: Routledge, 1997), 79–80; and Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics in Medieval Arabic Philosophy, 17. Black notes that all of the Greek commentators mentioned in Walzer’s article append the Rhetoric to his logical works as well (ibid., 17 n1). See also Heinrichs, Arabische Dichtung und griechische Poetik, 105–6. 10 This arrangement of the medieval Organon is attested to in the earliest philosophical writings, in discussions of, and commentaries on, the logical works of Aristotle by al-Kindì, al-Fàràbì, Ibn Sìnà, Ibn Rushd and Maimonides, and appears also in general discussions such as those found in Ibn al-Nadìm’s bio-bibliographical Kitàb al-Fihrist and al-Khwàrizmì’s Mafàtì˙ al-'Ulùm (Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics, 2) and is given also in al-Ya'qùbì’s compendium of universal history (Rescher, Studies in the History of Arabic Logic [Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1963], 32 n10). This expansion of the Organon and logical contextualization of the treatises on rhetoric and poetics Black has called the “context theory” in her examination of both the motivations that led the Arabic philosophers to retain this

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were, of course, keenly aware that the logical aspects of the Poetics were not Aristotle’s sole interest,11 and indeed they were careful to distinguish “between the universal canons of poetry, which alone are properly logical, and the canons of specific poetic forms in any given language.”12 Nonetheless, this inclusion of the art of poetics among the logical disciplines, this “construal of the nature of the poetic art as logical,”13 might conceivably have interesting ramifications in poetic form and stylistics as poets acquainted with philosophical issues, and the methods and systems of logic and dialectic, and deeply affected by the spirit of rationalism which characterized this age, attempted to reflect in their poetry that prevailing spirit. Additionally, it seems that although Ibn al-Rùmì was ignored, as mentioned previously, by a number of the compilers of important compendia of Arabic learning and lore, one must remember al-Qà∂ì al-Jurjànì’s complaint that his contemporaries “unduly assume the superiority of Ibn al-Rùmì [over al-Mutanabbì] and exaggerate in according him precedence.” What is important to keep in mind at this juncture is that, as Shawqì Îayf has argued,14 alternative and competing conceptions of the nature of the poetic art, or at least, of poetic methods, did exist at this time.

2–B The Translation Movement 2–B.i

Background

The story of the transmission of the Greek physical and philosophical sciences and their active, if somewhat selective, appropriation by the Muslim world is a long and fascinating and oft-retold one.15

classificatory system, and the extent to which “its implicit logical, linguistic, and epistemological underpinnings are indeed defensible” (Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics, 3). 11 Ibn Sìnà, for example, distinguishes the logician’s concern with poetics as an imaginatively created locution (qawl mukhayyil ) from the very different concerns of the musicologist, prosodist and rhymist (Cantarino, Arabic Poetics in the Golden Age, 132; and Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics, 11). 12 Black, Logic and Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics, 12. 13 Ibid., 12–13. 14 Îayf, al-'Aßr al-'Abbàsì al-Thànì, 285–86. 15 The most thorough study of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, and the policy decisions and social factors which led to it and promoted it, is unquestion-

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Though considerable controversy remains concerning the extent to which the various Islamic disciplines were influenced by these imported sciences, it seems certain that the extensive translation movement which began in earnest during the second half of the 2nd/8th century was of an enormous scope and must have had immense impact upon contemporary intellectual life. At the time of the Arab conquest of the great centers of ancient civilization in northeast Africa and southwest Asia in the 7th century A.D., “the intellectual legacy of Greece was unquestionably the most precious treasure at hand.”16 Greek philosophy and science had been cultivated for a thousand years, and although “the great creative period . . . was long since over and its light had become dim,” it was nonetheless preserved “as a continuous tradition of study handed down in well-established schools”17 throughout the Fertile Crescent. Antioch, Edessa (al-Ruhà) and Qinnasrìn in the west, Nisibis and Mosul in northern Mesopotamia, and Jundaysàbùr18 in Khùzistàn in western Persia, and the countless cloisters and monasteries (dayr, pl. adyàr) of Palestine, Syria and Iraq19 all “served as centres radiating Hellenistic stimuli.”20 It was to these regions that various Christian sects (primarily the Nestorians and the Monophysites, or

ably Dimitri Gutas’ Greek Thought, Arabic Culture. This work is unsurpassed in its scope and indispensable for the student of the intellectual history of the period in question. 16 Hitti, Philip K., History of the Arabs, 10th ed. (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1970), 309. As Gutas has pointed out, the conquests thus had the very important cultural consequence of reuniting areas and peoples that for a millenium had been subject to Hellenism, ever since they had fallen to Alexander the Great, but which had long been separated by great economic and cultural divides (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 11–13). 17 Walzer, Richard, Greek into Arabic, 2–3. 18 It was to Jundaysàbùr that the Neo-platonist philosophers of Athens fled in 529 A.D. when the emperor Justinian closed their academy and confiscated its properties (Rescher, Development, 17 n. 5; see also Yegane Shayegan, “The Transmission of Greek Philosophy to the Islamic World,” in History of Islamic Philosophy, ed., Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman [London: Routledge, 2001], 96–97). The Greek savants were received by the Sasanian emperor Chosroes 1 Anùshirwàn (reigned 531–78 A.D.). 19 A˙mad Amìn asserts that in Mesopotamia ( fì-mà bayn al-nahrayn) alone, there were approximately fifty “schools” belonging to the Syriac-speaking Christians, in which “Syriac and Greek sciences were taught,” each with an adjoining library (Amìn, Îu˙à al-Islàm, 2 vols., 6th ed. [Cairo: Maktabat al-Nah∂ah al-Mißriyyah, 1961], 2:59). 20 Hitti, History of the Arabs, 310.

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Jacobites) had transplanted the Hellenistic learning of Alexandria.21 Their doctrines had been declared heretical by the Orthodox Melkites in Constantinople in the Christian doctrinal disagreement and confusions over Christology, and they had been forced to relocate in order to pursue their studies undisturbed. In these centers Greek mathematical, astronomical, medical and philosophical studies were cultivated in close conjunction with theology “for Greek science and philosophy provided the conceptual rationale within which the theology of these churches found its articulation,”22 by which it could

21 For an account of the transmission of “the Syriac version of Hellenism” into these parts of Western Asia after the Nestorian and Monophysite schisms, see De Lacy O’Leary, Arabic Thought and its Place in History (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1922), chapter 1. According to al-Mas'ùdì, Greek philosophy originally flourished at Athens, but the “seat of teaching (majlis al-ta'lìm)” was later transferred to Alexandria. Upon his defeat of Cleopatra, the emperor Augustus opened other schools in Rome, but Theodosius afterwards closed the schools at Rome and made Alexandria the center of Greek learning. The teachings of the school of Alexandria were then transferred to Antioch in the days of 'Umar ibn 'Abd al'Azìz (99–101/717–20), and then in the days of al-Mutawakkil (232–247/847–61) to Óarràn. Al-Mas'ùdì adds that during the reign of the caliph al-Mu'ta∂id (279–289/892–902), who, as will be seen, actively supported the appropriation of Greek learning, the teachings were transferred to Baghdad (al-Mas'ùdì, al-Tanbìh wa-l-Ishràf [Beirut: Dàr Ía'b, n.d.], 105). Many scholars have cited, translated and discussed this famous passage. See S.M. Stern, “al-Mas'ùdì and the Philosopher alFàràbì,” reprinted in Medieval Arabic and Hebrew Thought, ed. F.W. Zimmerman, Article XV (London: Variorum Reprints, 1983), 40, and Versteegh, Arabic Grammar and Qur "ànic Exegesis in Early Islam (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993), 117–18, and n. 20. The passage was first cited and discussed by M. Meyerhof, “Von Alexandrien nach Baghdad. Ein Beitrag zur Gechichte des philosophischen und medizinischen Unterrichts bei den Arabern,” Sitzungsberichte der Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, philosophischhistorische Klasse, 23 (1930): 406–7. Gutas regards al-Mas'ùdì’s account of the transmission of Greek philosophy and medicine from Alexandria to Baghdad as a “notorious but fictitious history” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 90–94), while Endress prefers to substitute the term “one-sided” for “fictitious” (“The Defense of Reason: The Plea for Philosophy in the Religious Community,” Zeitschrift für Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften, 1990, vol. 6, 16–17; cited by Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 91 n. 19). Although crudely expressed, it would seem that al-Mas'ùdì’s “history” contains a kernel of truth in so far as it represents Alexandria, Antioch, Óarràn and Baghdad as gradually becoming the centers of Hellenistic learning and scholarship, each in its turn. 22 Rescher, The Development of Arabic Logic, 16; O’Leary, Arabic Thought, 33, 38. The fact that the Arabs became acquainted with the intellectual heritage of the Greeks “through the sieve of Oriental Christianity (durch das Sieb des Orientchristentums), which had filtered out all that was heathen and not of practical utility,” partially explains why the Arabs never paid much regard to the Greek historical tradition, Greek epic, drama and belles-lettres (Ewald Wagner, “Die arabische Rangstreitdichtung und ihre Einordnung in die allgemeine Literaturgeschichte,” in Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur in Mainz, Abhandlungen der geistes- und

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be explained and defended. Logic was a central subject of the preparatory training program of these academies and convents in the oriental patriarchates and served as a common bridge between the various branches of learning; it was considered the indispensable “instrument” and foundation of all science and learning. Aristotle’s logical treatises, which came to be referred to collectively as the Organon, were translated and extensively studied by the Syriac-speaking Christians of this area. Moreover, the Arab conquest in the 1st/7th century did not, on the whole, interfere with the intellectual pursuits of scholars at these important centers of learning.23 Studies were pursued without interruption at the Monophysite monastery of Qinnasrìn which produced numerous celebrated scholars, most distinguished of whom were Severus Sebokht (d. 47/667), his disciple Athanasius of Balad (d. 77/696) and Athanasius’ disciple George, Bishop of the Arabs (d. 106/724), all of whom produced important translations of, and commentaries on, the logical works of Aristotle.24 Edessa (alRuhà) is known to have flourished well into the late decades of the 1st/7th century and the vast theological and philosophical output of Jacob of Edessa (d. 89/708), another disciple of Severus Sebokht, “is a monument to the freedom of thought which he and his colleagues enjoyed.”25 Jundaysàbùr, in western Persia, also served as an important link in the transmission of Hellenistic learning to the Arabs, as did Óarràn (Carrhae), in northern Mesopotamia just south of Edessa, and Marw in Khuràsàn in northeastern Persia.26 It seems rather likely that contact with Hellenism may have occurred indirectly, along the lines suggested by Schacht who attempted to account for the parallels between Roman and Islamic law, which “are too numerous and too striking to be coincidences,” by noting that various legal concepts, maxims and principles, as well as the sciences of grammar, rhetoric and logic, were part of a living tradition sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse, Jahrgang 1962, Nr. 8 [Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1963], 462–63). 23 O’Leary, Arabic Thought, 47–50. 24 M. Fakhry, A History of Islamic Philosophy, 2nd ed. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983), 2–3; O’Leary, Arabic Thought, 47–49. 25 Fakhry, Islamic Philosophy, 2. 26 Óarràn remained “obstinately pagan” well into the 10th century A.D. and “kept alive numerous Greek ideas, beliefs and practices that seem to have been extinguished in most other areas,” while Marw “combined a vigorous Hellenism, as exhibited in its brand of Zoroastrianism . . . with an equally Hellenized Nestorianism” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 14).

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of encyclopaedic “Hellenistic education” in late Greco-Roman times and, therefore, not likely to die out abruptly with the Arab invasion and establishment of the Islamic state.27 He proposed the metaphor of the appropriation of “worn off coins of ideas, transmitted to [the Muslims] after a long usage and after many of their distinctive features had been effaced”28 to capture something of the obliqueness of this process of transmission. More recently, Versteegh has similarly argued that such indirect contact may have occurred by “a process of osmosis,” in which the “Arabs became acquainted with Hellenistic culture and scholarship in a watered down version as it was being taught in the schools all over the Byzantine empire.” Versteegh adds that this hypothesis has the advantage that it “is based on an established locus of contact,” but the obvious disadvantage that it is essentially unprovable, since it “is based on oral contacts.”29 It appears that some Arabic translations of scientific and pseudoscientific literature began early to be made “in sporadic, unregulated fashion . . . a natural, spontaneous and perhaps inevitable, development, in keeping with a centuries-old practice in the Near East.”30 Indeed, some scholars have recently defended the historical reality of a somewhat extensive translation activity even in Umayyad times.31 27

Joseph Schacht, “Foreign Elements in Ancient Islamic Law,” Journal of Comparative Legislation, 32 (1950): 9–17, and esp. 13–15; partially cited also by Heinrichs, “Literary Theory,” 33. 28 Schacht, “Ancient Islamic Law,” 15. 29 Versteegh, Arabic Grammar and Qur"ànic Exegesis in Early Islam, 25. The precise form of this indirect Muslim contact with Hellenistic culture is a matter of conjecture, but clearly of relevance is the great number of conversions to Islam known to have taken place from amongst the educated classes of the Christians. By the latter part of the Umayyad period, many of the leading Muslim scholars of Iraq were nonArabs, and even if they had not studied at one of the above-mentioned schools or monasteries, they “must have brought with them into Islam something of the Hellenistic intellectual outlook of the milieu in which they had been brought up” (W. Montgomery Watt, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought [Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2002], 183). There would presumably have been contacts too between the Arab governors and administrators and the heads of the various schools and monasteries where these sciences were taught (ibid.), as also with the Greek scribes and secretaries whom the new rulers were forced to retain in the exchequer, particularly in Syria and Palestine, until Greek was replaced by Arabic as the language of the public registers by the Umayyad caliphs 'Abd al-Malik and al-Walìd (Hitti, History of the Arabs, 217). On another level, too, in private life, translation (from Greek into Arabic) would have been “a quotidian reality” in “social and commercial intercourse in Syro-Palestine and Egypt (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 23). 30 A. Sabra, “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Science in Medieval Islam: A Preliminary Statement,” History of Science 25 (1987): 228. 31 Rosenthal mentions Fuat Sezgin’s “passionate defence of this point of view”

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For example, it is reported that the Umayyad caliph Hishàm ibn 'Abd al-Malik (105–23/724–23) engaged his secretary Sàlim Abù al'Alà" to translate for him the written correspondence between Alexander and his teacher, Aristotle, on successful methods of government,32 an early example of advice literature with an immediately military or administrative purpose. Other issues of “practical utilitarianism” that constituted an early impetus for Arab interest in, and translations from, Greek learning were the need to make astrological predictions,33 the need for medical and pharmacological knowledge,34 the in vols. III and IV of his Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums (Franz Rosenthal, The Classical Heritage in Islam, trans. Emile and Jenny Marmorstein [London and New York: Routledge, 1994], 4 and 267 n4). 32 M. Grignaschi, “Le roman épistolaire classique conservé dans la version arabe de Sàlim Abù l-'Alà",” in Le Muséon, LXXX, 1–2 (1967): esp. 223. Ibn al-Nadìm reports that Sàlim Abù al-'Alà" translated the “Letters of Aristotle to Alexander” for the caliph Hishàm ibn 'Abd al-Malik (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 131). Al-Mas'ùdì reports that a history of the Sasanian emperors and their policies and an account of the Sasanian sciences was translated into Arabic for Hishàm ibn 'Abd al-Malik in 113/731 (al-Mas'ùdì, al-Tanbìh wa al-Ishràf, 93). Al-Mas'ùdì, who actually saw a copy of this work in 303/915–16 in I߆akhr, reports that it contained also the pictures of each of the 27 Sasanian emperors (ibid.). 33 Al-Jà˙iΩ reports that the Umayyad Khàlid ibn Yazìd ibn Mu'àwiyah was the “first to translate works on astrology, medicine and alchemy (kàna awwala man tarjama kutub al-nujùm wa-l-†ibb wa-l-kìmiyà")” (al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Bayàn wa al-Tabyìn, 1:328; cited also by Youssef Eche, Les bibliothèques arabes publiques et semi-publiques en Mésopotamie, en Syrie et en Égypte au Moyen Age [Damascus: Institut Français de Damas, 1967], 16; and by Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 117). Ullmann, however, has demonstrated this report to be a later fabrication (M. Ullmann, “›àlid ibn Yazìd und die Alchemie: Eine Legende,” Der Islam (1978), vol. 55, 181–218; cited by Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 24 n. 20). In al-Hayawàn, al-Jà˙iΩ seems to imply that Khàlid had a role in translations of Plato (al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Hayawàn, 1:76). Ibn al-Nadìm describes Khàlid as “the sage of the Marwànids (˙akìm Àl Marwàn),” and reports that he was the first to commission translations from Greek and Coptic into Arabic (A˙mad Farìd Rifà'ì, 'Aßr Ma"mùn, 3 vols. [Cairo: Dàr al-Kutub al-Mißriyyah, 1927], 1:48). O’Leary asserts that Khàlid was a pupil of the Roman Morianus and that he studied chemistry, medicine and astronomy with him. He further states that Khàlid was the author of three epistles, in one of which he related his conversations with Marianos, in another the manner in which he studied chemistry, and in the third he explained the enigmatic allusions used by his teacher (O’Leary, Arabic Thought, 80–81). 34 See the preceding note on the Umayyad Khàlid ibn Yazìd’s interest in medicine. It is reported that the second 'Abbàsid caliph, al-Manßùr, sought the services of the Nestorian physician Jùrjis ibn Jibrà"ìl ibn Bukhtìshù', dean of the academy and hospital (bìmàristàn) at Jundaysàbùr, when troubled in 148/765 by a particularly bad stomach ailment, and that this man’s distinguished descendents remained in Baghdad for many generations in the service of the 'Abbàsid caliphs and the Barmakids. Much later, one of this man’s descendents served the Bùyid ruler, 'A∂ud al-Dawlah and his vizier al-Íà˙ib ibn 'Abbàd, and was appointed to the former’s famous hospital in Baghdad, al-Bìmàristàn al-A∂udì. Many members of the family composed treatises on medicine and logic (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà",

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need to fix the times of prayer and other ritual observances, to compute land measurement in the conquered territories, to measure and prepare plans for the course of irrigation canals, etc. Although some such Graeco-Arabic translation activities undoubtedly occurred during Umayyad times, “all . . . are instances of random and ad hoc accomodation to the needs of the times. . . . Deliberate and planned scholarly interest in the translation of Greek works (and Syriac works inspired by Greek) into Arabic appears not to have been present in Umayyad times.”35 Rather, it was not until after the 'Abbàsid revolution and the establishment of the 'Abbàsid state with Baghdad as its capital,36 and especially during the reigns of al-Manßùr, al-Mahdì, al-Rashìd and al-Ma"mùn37 that we witness “what can 2:37–78). The intimate connection between the development of Arabic medicine and logical studies has been commented on by most researchers in the field. R. Paret, for example, argues that Greek science and philosophy were transmitted to the Syriac-speaking Christians and the Arabs “im Schlepptau der Medizin” (R. Paret, Der Islam und das griechesche Bildungsgut [Tübingen, 1950], 18–21; cited by Rescher, Development of Arabic Logic, 16 n. 4). 35 Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 24. 36 A number of scholars, including Dimitri Gutas and Josef van Ess, consider the foundation of Baghdad a crucial turning point in the intellectual history of Islam. Gutas, for example, argues that after the 'Abbàsids’ abortive attempts to locate their new capital in at least four different locations, al-Manßùr finally managed to “consolidate the gains of the dynastic and social revolution and pre-empt any future opposition” to his political and cultural policies by any “power groups . . . factions, or classes with vested interests in certain ideological positions” (such as the Umayyads or their Byzantine bureaucracy) “by creating a new geographical location in which he could fashion [a] new status quo on his own terms,” i.e., a new political and social configuration supported by new ideological constructs. (ibid., 189–91). A brief discussion of the ideological and symbolic significance of the site and shape of the new capital is provided by Lassner ( Jacob Lassner, The Topography of Baghdad in the Early Middle Ages [Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1970], 128–37). There has been considerable controversy regarding the significance and origin of the shape of the Round City. Beckwith, for example, has suggested that the round shape is one more example of considerable Indian and Central Asian influence on the development of Islamic culture in the first half-century following the establishment of the 'Abbàsid state (Christopher Beckwith, “The Plan of the City of Peace: Central Asian Iranian Factors in Early 'Abbàsid Design,” Acta Orient. Hung. 38 [1984]: esp. 147–64). It has also been suggested that al-Manßùr selected this shape because, with his palace situated at the center, he would be equidistant from all sections of the city, apparently “an application to city planning of Euclid’s definition of the circle” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 52). Indeed, al-Mas'ùdì reports that a book by Euclid was among those works that were translated for al-Manßùr (al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:314). 37 As Gutas has noted, although al-Manßùr is generally credited by medieval Arabic authors, such as al-Mas'ùdì, Íà'id al-Andalusì and Ibn Khaldùn, “with initiating and promoting the translation movement,” al-Ma"mùn “normally occupies center stage in this respect” in secondary literature (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic

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only be described as a cultural explosion of which the translation of ancient science and philosophy was a major feature.”38 The Muslims, however, knew neither Greek nor Syriac and had at first to depend on translations made by the adherents of the “protected religions” ( Jews, Christians, most particularly Nestorians, but also Jacobites and Melkites, and gnostic Íàbians). In fact, though, it was precisely due to the fact that the whole corpus of Hellenistic sciences, still in existence at the time of the Muslim conquests, was thus translated into Arabic39 that the tradition survived, unlike in the West, where the ultimate result of the loss of knowledge of the Greek language in late Roman times was the concomitant loss of knowledge of the philosophical and scientific literature.40 At about the time of Ibn al-Rùmì’s birth, Baghdad had already begun to supplant both Kufah and Basrah as the intellectual capital of the Islamic world, and as such had begun to attract the greatest

Culture, 29–32). See his examination of the reasons for the “by and large distorted picture of that role given by mainstream historiography” which he argues should be discounted as resulting from “later and obviously tendentious revisionist versions” of historical reality (ibid., 75–104). 38 Sabra, “Appropriation”, 228. Rosenthal suggests reasons why the Umayyads could neither foster nor tolerate official study of Greek culture (Rosenthal, Classical Heritage, 2–3), and Gutas adds that “the prevailing high culture” of the Greek-speaking groups with whom the Umayyads were in direct contact was the Greek Orthodox Christianity espoused in imperial Constantinople, and by the 7th century “this Byzantine high culture was inimically indifferent to pagan Greek learning. . . . Hellenism was the defeated enemy, to be treated with contemptuous indifference because it was irrelevant. . . .” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 18). Sabra proposes possible explanations for the sudden and overwhelming interest of the 'Abbàsids in Greek learning, and mentions some of the forces that combined to produce this great cultural movement (Sabra, “Appropriation,” 228–9), but by far the most thorough treatment of the subject is to be found in Gutas, where the policy decisions of the caliphs and the ruling elite and the social factors and scholarly needs that led to the translation movement are discussed in detail (Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 28–150). 39 Moritz Steinschneider’s index of translated works, compiled at the end of the last century and superceded by the discovery of many more manuscripts, nevertheless gives an idea of the vastness of the project. Steinschneider’s index contains the names of over eighty Greek authors for whom at least one work was translated, and in the case of men like Aristotle, Galen, Euclid and Hippocrates, there are numerous items (Watt, Formative Period, 185–86). Kraemer remarks that “the sheer quantity of ancient texts that were recovered, translated, and commented upon is astounding. The list appreciably exceeds the number of philosophic classics perused during, say, the Carolingian or Twelfth-Century Renaissances” ( J. Kraemer, Humanism, 3). 40 S.D. Goitein, “Between Hellenism and Renaissance—Islam, the Intermediate Civilization,” Islamic Studies, 2, no. 2 ( June, 1963): 220–21.

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poets and scholars of the period.41 One of the reasons for this supplantation was the symbiotic relationship that subsisted between this new capital of the 'Abbàsids, founded by the second caliph al-Manßùr in 145/762 and completed four years later, and its splendid court.42 The effect was to usher in “cette époque unique de la floraison de l’Islam, où la société arabe, assise à Baghdàd, au confluent des deux cultures, araméenne et grecque, devint le centre intellectuel du monde.”43 Most translation activities from early 'Abbàsid times on were concentrated in the poet’s birthplace, in Baghdad, where the proverbial Bayt al-Óikmah (House of Wisdom)44—the great library, translation bureau and institute for the promotion of the philosophical sciences—is commonly said to have reached its apogee under the 'Abbàsid caliph al-Ma"mùn (reigned 813–833).45 The activities of the translators working in Baghdad were prodigious, and their excellent translations were of paramount importance to the development of Arabic philosophical and physical sciences. Describing the momentousness of the translation movement undertaken during this period, and its unparalleled scope, A.I. Sabra writes:

41 Jamal Eddine Bencheikh, Poétique arabe: essai sur les voies d’une creation (Paris: Éditions anthropos, 1975), 19–23; Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 85, 88–97. 42 Cahen, Leçons, 63; cited by Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 85. 43 Louis Massignon, La passion d’al-Hosayn-ibn-Mansour al-Hallàj (Paris: Librairie Orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1922), 1: xii–xiii. 44 See Youssef Eche, Les Bibliothèques arabes, 9–57, on the origins and development of the Bayt al-Óikmah. According to him, the first institution of this name was founded under the first Umayyad caliph, Mu'àwiyah, and continued by his grandson Khàlid ibn Yazìd (ibid., 11–18). Gutas is dismissive of Eche’s “maximalist” interpretation (49 pages of “imaginary reconstruction on the basis of barely a dozen one-line references in the sources”) of the very scanty reliable reports about the Bayt al-Óikmah (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 54 n. 44). See Gutas’ “minimalist” reconstruction of the nature and function of the Bayt al-Óikmah in both Sasanian and early 'Abbàsid times (ibid., 54–60). Although Sourdel asserts that the institution appears not to have survived the reversals suffered with the orthodox reaction of the caliph al-Mutawakkil (d. 233/847) (Sourdel, Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Bayt al-Óikma”), in the last quarter of the 4th/10th century Ibn al-Nadìm copied the Ethiopic characters into his Fihrist “from the library of al-Ma"mùn (min khizànat al-Ma"mùn),” which would seem to be a reference to the Bayt al-Óikmah (see al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 21). Al-Qalqashandì asserts that the library existed until the fall of Baghdad in 656/1258 (al-Qalqashandì, Íub˙ al-A'shà, 1:466; cited by Shalaby, History of Muslim Education, 97). A˙mad Amìn, in his discussion of the Bayt al-Óikmah (Amìn, Îu˙à al-Islàm, 2:61–66), comments on the remarkable uncertainty and obscurity that clouds the history of the institution. 45 Gutas would prefer the formulation that the movement reached its apogee with the work of Óunayn ibn Is˙àq and his associates (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 124).

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part i – chapter two The translation movement in the early 'Abbàsid period was not a sideline affair conducted by a few individuals working in the dark under threat of being found out and thwarted. It was a massive movement which took place in broad daylight under the protection and active patronage of the 'Abbàsid rulers. Indeed, in terms of intensity, scope, concentration and concertedness, it had had no precedent in the history of the Middle East or of the world. Large libraries for books on “the philosophical sciences” (˙ikma, or al-'ulùm al-˙ikmiyya) were created, embassies were sent out in search of Greek manuscripts, and scholars (Christians and Sabians) were employed to perform the task of translation, all of this at the instigation and with the financial and moral support of the 'Abbàsid caliphs.46

Elaborating on the “social phenomenon” of the translation movement and the very wide support it received during the 'Abbàsid period, which was decisive for its success, Gutas adds: [I]t was supported by the entire elite of 'Abbàsid society: caliphs and princes, civil servants and military leaders, merchants and bankers, and scholars and scientists; it was not the pet project of any particular group in the furtherance of their restricted agenda. [In addition] it was subsidized by an enormous outlay of funds, both public and private;47 it was no eccentric whim of a Maecenas or the fashionable affectation of a few wealthy patrons seeking to invest in a philanthropic or self-aggrandizing cause. . . . The support for the translation movement cut across all lines of religious, sectarian, ethnic, tribal and linguistic demarcation. Patrons were Arabs and non-Arabs, Muslims and non-Muslims, Sunnìs and Shì'ites, generals and civilians, merchants and land-owners, etc.48

Accompanying this “social phenomenon,” and going some way towards explaining it, or indeed, perhaps also resulting from it and the pre46 Sabra, “Appropriation,” 228. See also Rosenthal’s description of the process of the Muslim adoption of the Classical heritage (Rosenthal, The Classical Heritage in Islam, esp. 1–14). 47 Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah reports (ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:143), on the authority of Abù Sulaymàn al-Man†iqì, that the Banù Shàkir (the three sons of Mùsà ibn Shàkir, the astronomer of al-Ma"mùn) used to pay the translators in their service, among them Óunayn ibn Is˙àq, Óubaysh ibn al-Óasan and Thàbit ibn Qurrah, 500 dinars per month, both for translation and for making themselves available for consultation (li-l-naql wa-l-mulàzamah). In Ibn al-Nadìm’s version of this report, the Banù Shàkir are referred to as the Banù al-Munajjim (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 304). Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah also reports that the the vizier and poet, Mu˙ammad ibn 'Abd al-Malik al-Zayyàt (d. 233/847–48), used to spend 2000 dinars per month on the translators and copyists in his service (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:176). For the names of other important patrons of the translation movement, see ibid., 2:175–77. 48 Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 2 and 5. See also ibid., 134–35.

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vailing culture of translation, the 3rd/9th century also witnessed a growing intellectual curiosity and spirit of encyclopedism, succinctly captured and illustrated in the oft-quoted dictum of that polymath in the translated sciences, Ya'qùb ibn Is˙àq al-Kindì (died after 256/870), known within the tradition as “the Philosopher of the Arabs” ( faylasùf al-'Arab) because he was the first scholar to “attempt to naturalize Greek philosophy in the Islamic world:”49 We should not be ashamed to acknowledge truth from whatever source it comes to us, even if it is brought to us by former generations and foreign peoples. For him who seeks the truth there is nothing of higher value than truth itself; it never cheapens or abases him who searches for it, but ennobles and honours him.50

2–B.ii

The Role of Logic

There were, of course, other and more pressing reasons than the stomach ailments of caliphs and mere curiosity that induced the Muslims to make themselves acquainted with Greek science, particularly works on logic and dialectic. It is a curious but highly significant fact, for example, that the Topica, the Aristotelian text that teaches one the logical strategies employed in dialectic ( jadal ) and thus treats in detail the manner in which questions should be asked and answers given in a disputation, received so much attention at a very early stage of the translation movement.51 As Goitein noted:

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Walzer, Greek into Arabic, 175. Ya'qùb ibn Is˙àq al-Kindì, “Fì al-Falsafah al-ùlà,” in M.A. Abù Rìda (ed.), Rasà"il al-Kindì al-Falsafiyyah (Cairo, 1950), 103; cited and trans. Richard Walzer, Greek into Arabic, 12. See also the similar view expressed by Ibn Qutaybah in the introduction to his 'Uyùn al-Akhbàr, all the more remarkable because, though a contemporary of al-Kindì, he was a traditional scholar with no professed interest in the translated sciences. In this introduction, he states that “knowledge is the stray camel of the believer; it benefits him regardless from where he takes it ( fa-inna l-'ilma ∂àllatu l-mu"mini min ˙aythu akhadhahu nafa'ahu)” (Ibn Qutaybah, 'Uyùn al-Akhbàr, 4 vols. [Cairo: al-Hay"ah al-Mißriyyah al-Àmmah li-l-Kitàb, 1973; photo-offset of Dàr al-Kutub ed.], 1: p. sìn; trans. Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 159, where there is an extended translation of the relevant passage). 51 The translation was undertaken by the Nestorian Catholicus Timotheus I (d. ca. 208/823) in about 165/782 in response to a “royal command,” as he himself says in his Letters, from the caliph al-Mahdì (d. 169/785). Although the Topica had been translated earlier—e.g., by the previously mentioned Athanasius of Balad (d. 696), Timotheus complains that these earlier translations were barbarous. Timotheus seems to have first made a translation into Syriac and then later an Arabic version. He was helped in the Arabic translation by the cleric Abù Nù˙ al-Anbàrì, already 50

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part i – chapter two The extremely developed and ramified Christian theology, as well as philosophical rationalism which denied heavenly revelation altogether, and also Iranian dualism, which was often intertwined with gnosticism—all these constituted challenges which Islam could not afford to ignore. . . . [The controversies] were soon fought out with the means of Greek logic and dialectic, which marked the beginnings of Muslim scholasticism.52

Clearly, logical methods of demonstration and persuasion were needed in these interconfessional disputations and it was in defense of Islamic doctrine against these challenges that kalàm (variously translated as speculative, philosophical, disputational or dialectic theology) arose. Equally pertinent for the present purposes is the following description of the caliph al-Mahdì’s efforts to combat the Zanàdiqah, or representatives of the various dualist sects, provided by the historian al-Mas'ùdì: Al-Mahdì devoted all his efforts to exterminating heretics (al-mul˙idìn) and apostates (al-dhàhibìn 'an al-dìn), for it was during his reign that such people appeared and proclaimed their beliefs. This was due to the dissemination of the writings of Mani (Mànì), Bardesanes (Ibn Dayßàn), and Marcion (Marqiyùn), which had been transmitted by Ibn al-Muqaffa' and others, and were translated into Arabic from Persian and Pahlavi. It was also due to the writings of Ibn Abì al-'Awjà", Óammàd 'Ajrad, Ya˙yà ibn Ziyàd and Mu†ì' ibn Iyàs in support of the doctrines of Mani, Bardesanes and Marcion. In this way, Dualists (or Manicheans, al-Zanàdiqah)53 became numerous and their beliefs were

known as the translator of a compendium of some parts of the Organon (F.E. Peters, Aristoteles Arabus: The Oriental Translations and Commentaries on the Aristotelian Corpus [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1968], 21), and by some Greeks (ba'∂ al-Rùm) in the translation into Syriac from the original Greek ( J.M. Fiey, A˙wàl al-Naßàrà fì Khilàfat Banì al'Abbàs, trans. Óusnì Zaynah [Beirut: Dàr al-Mashriq, 1990], 76). Gutas’ description of the contents of the Topica is to the point: “Its stated aim is to develop a method that would enable one to debate for or against a thesis on the basis of commonly held beliefs; accordingly, it provides rules of engagement concerning the question and answer process between two antagonists, the interrogator and his respondent, and it lists at great length test cases—about three hundred of them—that provide approaches to arguments, or their topics (the topoi)” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 62). See also note 84 of this chapter. 52 Goitein, “Islam, the Intermediate Civilization,” 225. By “Muslim scholasticism,” Goitein presumably intends “kalàm.” For the meaning of kalàm, see the next following paragraph. Strictly speaking, Goitein’s choice of the term “scholasticism” is not very appropriate (see Makdisi, The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West [Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1990], esp. 2–3). 53 The term zindìq (pl. zanàdiqah) is vague and is often difficult to translate because of its remarkably wide scope. See, for example, the many individuals of diverse

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disseminated. Al-Mahdì was the first to order the theologians who were specialists in philosophic inquiry and proficient in dialectic disputation (al-jadaliyyìna min ahli ’l-ba˙th54 min al-mutakallimìn) to compose books to refute the above-mentioned heretics, both those that had abjured their faith and others. The theologians then furnished [unassailable] proofs against their obdurate opponents (al-mu'ànidìn), swept away the dubious arguments championed by the heretics, and made the truth patently clear to all who had doubted.55

socio-religious backgrounds and orientations that al-Ma'arrì includes under this appellation, from the pagan chiefs of Quraysh to the poet Ibn al-Rùmì (al-Ma'arrì, Risàlat al-Ghufràn, 412–98). Ibn al-Nadìm’s list of those who appeared to be Muslims but secretly were zindìqs (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 401 ff.) is similarly very heterogeneous (noted by Watt, Formative Period, 187). Basing himself on the research of Bevan, Nicholson reports that the term was derived “from the zaddìqs, who formed an elect class in the Manichaean hierarchy” (Nicholson, Literary History, 375; see also O’Leary, Arabic Thought, 107). Al-Mas'ùdì provides a derivation of the Arabized term, asserts that it was originally applied to Mànì and his followers, and states that “the dualists are the zanàdiqah.” He then adds that the term came to encompass all those who professed belief in the eternity of the cosmos and refused to accept the doctrine of its creation ex nihilo (al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 1:250–51). In the above passage from the Murùj al-Dhahab, the term thus clearly refers to the Manicheans and other dualist sects, but it soon came to be used to refer also to libertines, philosophers and even theologians who were deemed more rationalistically oriented than “their bien pensants Muslim adversaries” (Sarah Stroumsa, Freethinkers of Medieval Islam: Ibn al-Ràwandì, Abù Bakr al-Ràzì, and their Impact on Islamic Thought [Leiden: Brill, 1999], 5, 7). To illustrate the ubiquitous use of the term, Strousma provides the example of one Abù Nu'aym al-Mulà"ì (d. 219/834) who testified that in his own experience anyone who adhered to the doctrine of the created Quran and attempted to support that belief in a disputation would be labeled a zindìq (ibid., 5 n. 15). Similarly, Ibn Qutaybah reports ('Uyùn al-Akhbàr, 2:141) that the Óanafì judge Abù Yùsuf (d. 182/798) asserted that to seek religious knowledge by kalàm was a form of zandaqah (man †alaba ’d-dìna bi-l-kalàmi tazandaq).” Watt notes that to an early scholar of Kufah, Manßùr ibn al-Mu'tamir (d. 132/750), zandaqah appears to signify “rejection of the revealed law,” and Watt himself prefers to translate the term as “irreligion” (Watt, Formative Period, 171). To complicate things further, alJà˙iΩ makes the following curious observation concerning the Zanàdiqah: “The ascetics amongst the zindìqs are wanderers (ruhbànu z-zanàdiqati sayyà˙ùn)” (al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 4:457–58; trans. Nicholson, Translations of Eastern Poetry and Prose [Cambridge: University Press, 1922], 53), where the term seems to be applied to Buddhists (ibid., 53 n. 2). The term mul˙id (pl. malà˙idah and mul˙idùn) also has a very wide semantic scope. It clearly implies religious deviation (see Ibn ManΩùr, Lisàn al-'Arab, s.v. “l-˙-d”), but was sometimes used as a synonym of zindìq. See too note 36 in Chapter 2–A of Part II of this study. 54 See pp. 74–75 and note 168 below, for the meaning of the term ba˙th. 55 Al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:315; also translated in Masudi, The Meadows of Gold, trans. Paul Lunde and Caroline Stone (London and New York: Kegan Paul International, 1989), 388–89; and in Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 65. AlSuyù†ì (Ta"rìkh al-Khulafà" [Aleppo: Dàr al-Qalam al-'Arabì, 1991], 259) also reports that al-Mahdì was the first to order the dialectic theologians to compose arguments (kutub al-jadal) to refute the dualists and those who deviate from the true religion

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Intersectarian polemics and apologetics also abounded among the representatives of the various Islamic sects that proliferated at this time, such as the Mu'tazilah, the various Shì'ite and Khàrijite groups, the Jabriyyah, the Qadariyyah, the Murji"ah, the Mushabbihah, the Jahmiyyah, etc.,56 and it was in defense of Islamic doctrine against these challenges too that kalàm arose and flourished.57 It is true that even during the lifetime of the Prophet disputations were held between the early Muslims and their opponents, especially the Christians and Jews and including also their pagan adversaries among the Quraysh, and there are references to disputations (mujàdalàt) and how they should best be prosecuted in the Quran.58 Very often in the Quran passages are encountered which present in a formalized way the words of the opponents of the Prophet together with their rebuttal,59 and which “form as it were a nucleus of a (az-zanàdiqah wa-’l-mul˙idìn). For the doctrines and movements mentioned in alMas'ùdì’s report, see Melhem Chokr, Zandaqa et Zindìqs, passim; and for the personalities mentioned, see ibid., 109–11, 265–72, 276–79, 272–76. See also the curious report preserved in the Aghànì involving the last three above-mentioned libertine zindìqs of Kufah (al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 13:315–17). 56 In addition to the valuable heresiographies by medieval Muslim scholars, such as the Maqàlàt al-Islàmiyyìn by al-'Ash'arì (d. 324/935) or al-Milal wa al-Ni˙al by alShahrastànì (d. 548/1153), one may consult W. Montgomery Watt, “The Great Community and the Sects,” in Theology and Law in Islam, ed. von Grunebaum (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1971) 25–36, and Watt, The Formative Period, passim, for discussions of these and other Islamic sects. 57 Ample evidence for the inter- and intrasectarian disputations which must have taken place between representatives of the various Islamic sects may be found in the numerous lists of “refutations” attributed to these rival theologians and preserved by Ibn al-Nadìm. Ibn Khaldùn supported this view of the apologetic and polemic nature of Islamic kalàm, asserting that it “merely wants to refute heretics,” and is “a science that involves arguing with logical proofs in defense of the articles of faith and refuting innovators who deviate in their dogmas from the early Muslims and Muslim orthodoxy” (Ibn Khaldùn, The Muqaddimah, trans. Franz Rosenthal, 3 vols., 2nd ed. [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980], 3:155 and 34; cited also by Van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” in Logic in Classical Islamic Culture, ed. von Grunebaum [Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1970], 24). 58 See, for example, Qur"àn 16:125–26 and 29:46; partially cited by Averil Cameron, “Disputations, Polemical Literature and the Formation of Opinion in the Early Byzantine Period,” in Dispute Poems and Dialogues in the Ancient and Mediaeval Near East, ed. G.J. Reinink and H.L.J. Vanstiphout (Leuven: Peters Press, 1991), 105 n. 47. 59 See, for example, Qur"àn 45:24–26, and esp. 37:11–74; cited and discussed by Fred Leemhuis, “A Koranic Contest Poem in Sùrat Aß-Íàffàt?” in Dispute Poems and Dialogues in the Ancient and Mediaeval Near East, ed. G.J. Reinink and H.L.J. Vanstiphout (Leuven: Peeters, 1991), 168–77. Leemhuis considers this last example from Sùrat al-Íàffàt “as representing one of the probable roots of the munàΩara” (ibid., 177).

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debate.”60 Indeed, these passages quite possibly reflect actual debates. The “highly disputatious tone” of these and other references to adversarial groups imply that “a background of intense argument” subsisted between them.61 This notwithstanding, one must also bear in mind the fact that the nature and content of these disputations and the methods of argumentation employed developed considerably between the Prophet’s time and the high 'Abbàsid age. It is true too that theological discussions and debates took place among Muslims from the earliest times, but during the first century of Islam those debates were largely “the result of specific political developments and pressures of the moment (walìdat al-bà'ith al-siyàsì wa-∂agh† al-˙àjah).”62 They concerned issues of immediate concern to the nascent community, such as “questions of legitimacy of successsion, the relationship of leadership to faith, and the concomitant problem of unbelief, when that relationship was not deemed adequate.”63 Towards the end of the Umayyad period, however, these discussions moved on to abstract matters that were not so clearly related to historical and political events, issues such as the eternity of the cosmos versus its creation ex nihilo, the uncreatedness of the Quran, the being and attributes of God, i.e., His attributes and their compatibility with His unity, the promised beatific vision, free will versus predestination, questions from physics and cosmology, etc. Ideas with which the Muslims became newly acquainted through their discussions with the Christians, Jews, Dualists and others suggested difficulties in their own theology which was as yet only partially formulated. It became increasingly difficult to base one’s arguments wholly on the Quran. Although some refused to admit that there was a difficulty or any question for consideration and insisted that reason could not be applied to the revelation of God, that “it was

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Leemhuis, “A Koranic Contest Poem in Sùrat Aß-Íàffàt?,” 166. Cameron, “Disputations, Polemical Literature and the Formation of Opinion,” 102, 105. For a relatively thorough and systematic presentation and elucidation of the disputational passages occurring in the Quran, arranged according to chapter and verse, see Najm al-Dìn al-ˇùfì al-Óanbalì, 'Alam al-Jadhal fì 'Ilm al-Jadal, ed. Wolfhart Heinrichs (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1987), 93–209. 62 Ra˙ìm Jabr A˙mad Al-Óisnàwì, al-MunàΩaràt al-Lughawiyyah wa-l-Adabiyyah fì al-Óa∂àrah al-'Arabiyyah al-Islàmiyyah ('Ammàn: Dàr Usàmah, 1999), 21. 63 Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 70. The status of the followers of both sides in the “Battle of the Camel” (36/656), the first encounter in which Muslim fought against Muslim, was a particularly troubling issue. 61

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alike an innovation to dispute that revelation or to defend it,”64 others felt the pressure of the questions proposed by their adversaries and either made use of these new arguments against different opponents in different contexts, or had recourse to translated sources in search of material to construct and vindicate their theologies. In the forefront of this latter group were the Mu'tazilah, that group of Mutakallimùn with the most pronouncedly rationalist orientation. This is readily apparent from an examination of the scientific, cosmological and philosophical aspects of the teachings of the early Mu'tazilites and their immediate forerunners, people such as Îiràr ibn 'Amr, Abù al-Hudhayl and al-NaΩΩàm, to whom the first infusion of Greek concepts is attributed. It is to them that the assimilation of a large number of Hellenistic concepts and methods of argument in Islamic thought is due. It is almost certainly no coincidence that the two “schools” of the Mu'tazilah assumed shape at roughly the same time as the period of the Graeco-Arabic translation activity, and the development of Arabic logic and philosophy, i.e., between the end of the 2nd/8th and the beginning of the 4th/10th century.65 Indeed, there are references in the literature to a possible connection between al-Ma"mùn’s enthusiasm for the philosophical sciences—not merely the useful sciences of medicine, astrology and alchemy—and his support for Mu'tazilism against traditionalist theology66 and against the partisans of the Umayyads and the extremist 'Alids.67 According to one such account, the rationalist tendencies of this caliph and his espousal of the Mu'tazilite cause, which maintained that religious texts should agree with the judgments of reason, as well as his patronage of the work of the translators and warm advocacy of Greek science were

64

O’Leary, Arabic Thought, 82. L. Gardet, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “'Ilm al-Kalàm.” 66 Sabra, “Appropriation,” 229; see also Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 75–104, where he argues that al-Ma"mùn’s support of the translation movement, dialectic argumentation and debate, was an integral part of his overarching policy of centralizing all power in the hands of the caliph, particularly in his efforts to wrest religious authority from the “hidden leaderships” of traditionalist legal and religious scholars. 67 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 69–70. The Mu'tazilah, he writes, opposed the claims of the Umayyads, enjoyed good relations with the Zaydites at a time when alMa"mùn was endeavoring to improve his relations with the moderate 'Alids, and refuted the pretentions of the extremist 'Alids and other radical sects. In addition, their Mu'tazilite theories on the Imàmate, in general, served 'Abbàsid interests. 65

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the result of a conversation he had with Aristotle in a dream.68 Whatever the ideological motivation, in the first half of the 3rd/9th century, and particularly during the caliphates of al-Ma"mùn, alMu'taßim and al-Wàthiq and their Qà∂ì al-Qu∂àh (chief judge) Ibn Abì Du"àd, the Mu'tazilah enjoyed the favor of the caliphs of Baghdad for some thirty years and attained their greatest political power. During this period, the influence of the Mu'tazilah on the 'Abbàsid rulers and the ruling establishment may rightfully be regarded as “the real cause of an official attitude towards the heritage of classical antiquity that made impressive provisions for its adoption in Islam.”69 As some of the foremost representatives of the culture of translation prevailing in many circles of 3rd/9th century urban Iraq, the Mu'tazilah were “incontestably rationalists,”70 in some cases nearly deifying the powers and authority of the intellect,71 and “although nuances of doctrine, sometimes important, divided them, they were inspired by one and the same spirit: respect for reason ('aql ) in the 68 Ibn al-Nadìm reports (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 303–04) that Aristotle appeared to the caliph in a dream and assured him that there was no substantive difference between the dictates of reason and those of Revelation, but he established the primacy of the intellect, or reason (al-'aql ), in ascertaining [absolute] good (al-˙asan), over religious authorities (the canonical law, al-shar'). This version of the dream is also provided by Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah with slightly different wording (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:142–43). The passage is translated in full by Rosenthal (The Classical Heritage in Islam, 48–49), and by Kees Versteegh (The Arabic Linguisitc Tradition, 56). Ibn Nubàtah preserves an earlier, “original” version of the dream (Ibn Nubàtah, Sar˙ al-'Uyùn, 118). See Gutas’ analysis of the motivations behind the two independent versions of the dream (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 97–104). 69 Rosenthal, The Classical Heritage in Islam, 5. 70 Ibid. Al-NaΩΩàm emphatically insisted that man must argue on the basis of free ijtihàd, i.e., independent judgment, as opposed to taqlìd, or uncritical faith, and maintained that even the fatwàs reported from the Companions are not binding since they can be shown to contradict each other (Van Ess, Enclyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “al-NaΩΩàm”). See Tarif Khalidi’s discussion of al-NaΩΩàm’s view, which was opposed to that generally held by Óadìth scholars and jurists, that the report by multiple transmission (al-khabar al-mutawàtir) and even reports attributed to the Companions of the Prophet may in fact be false, and the “enormous storm of controversy” this view generated (Tarif Khalidi, Arabic Historical Thought in the Classical Period [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996], 139–41). Basically, he argued that evidence was needed to establish the credence of these reports and traditions, irrespective both of the source of the tradition and its mode of transmission, and that “such evidence would have to come from reason, nature or custom” (ibid., 141). 71 See, for example, lines 12–15 of the qaßìdah by Bishr ibn al-Mu'tamir preserved by al-Jà˙iΩ (al-Óayawàn, 6:292), where the former sings the praises of reason (al-'aql ), concluding with the grand assertion that “the Lord has singled it out with the qualities of true sanctity and purity (qad khaßßahu rabbuhu bi-khàlißi t-taqdìsi wa-†-†uhrì).”

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defence of religious tenets,”72 and rejection of uncritical faith and unquestioning following of others in that which they say and do without consideration of the evidence (al-taqlìd ).73 Indeed, certain of the Mu'tazilah were perceived as going to such lengths in their investigations, speculations and disputations (al-jidàl ) that their critics charged them with “preferring philosophical speculation (al-naΩar) to uttering the phrases sub˙àna l-Làh and là illàha illà l-Làh [praising and glorifying Allah] and to reading the Quran and spending long hours in prayer, to the extent that some of them claim it is superior to making the Pilgrimage and conducting holy war against the infidels, superior to all piety and any other form of exertion.”74 Shawqì Îayf maintains that no other science or discipline ('ilm) flourished in this early 'Abbàsid period as did 'ilm al-kalàm,75 and the Mu'tazilah were only one, though perhaps the most important, of many sects responsible for developing the science. Clearly, logical methods of demonstration and persuasion were needed in these interconfessional and intra- and intersectarian disputations. The various Christian sects had long since had recourse to the Aristotelian logical arsenal in their intersectarian controversies. Since 500 A.D. in the Christological controversy, the “bellum lexicographicum” waged over the meanings of substance, nature, person and hypostasis by the Chalcedonians, Monophysites and Nestorians, “none could follow the turnings of the polemic without considerable instruction in what had unexpectedly come to be the handbook to the theological warfare, the Organon of Aristotle.”76 Christians in the 6th and 7th centuries also frequently debated with, or addressed polemics to, various other

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Gardet, “'Ilm al-Kalàm.” See al-Jà˙iΩ’s scathing criticism of the taqlìd of the common people (al-Jà˙iΩ, “Dhamm Akhlàq al-Kuttàb,” in Rasà"il al-Jà˙iΩ, 2:196–97). Ibn Qutaybah reports (Ta"wìl Mukhtalaf al-Óadìth, 49) that Thumàmah ibn Ashras is to have exclaimed one day, when he noticed a group of people racing to the mosque one Friday lest they be late for prayer, “Look at the cows! Look at the donkeys! What has that Arab [the Prophet] done to these people! (unΩurù ilà al-baqar, unΩurù ilà al-˙amìr! Mà ßana'a hàdhà al-'Arabì bi-l-nàs!)” 74 Al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 1:216–17. See too Ibn Qutaybah’s satiric characterization of the Mu'tazilite Mu˙ammad ibn al-Jahm al-Barmakì’s preoccupation “with the books of Aristotle” in Chapter 2–A of Part I, note 4. 75 Îayf, al-'Aßr al-'Abbàsì al-Awwal, 13th ed. (Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1994), 132. 76 F.E. Peters, “The Greek and Syriac Background,” in History of Islamic Philosophy, ed. Sayyed Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman (London and New York: Routledge, 2001), 48. 73

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groups, including the Gnostics, Manicheans and Jews,77 all of whom would presumably have been similarly motivated to avail themselves of these same intellectual weapons. The phenomenon of the theological debate or disputation, in fact, seems very nearly to be the earmark of the age, particularly in the Christian East.78 To judge from the account of John of Ephesus, the imperial palace in Constantinople in the 530’s and 540’s was “the constant scene of formal and informal debates and disputations.”79 The formal acts of the many councils also constitute a branch of disputation, and “served to crystallize this debating tendency further” in that they required “a much more developed repertoire of specialized argumentation.”80 Indeed, on the eve of the Fifth Ecumenical Council in 553 A.D., the hitherto undistinguished monk Eutychius achieved prominence and was even selected to replace the current patriarch of Constantinople because of his debating skills.81 These debates and disputations which flourished in Byzantium and the oriental patriarchates of the Christian East were soon to find their counterpart in the palaces and private salons of the Muslim world as well. The “dialogue” between the illustrious military commander 'Amr ibn al-'Àß and the patriarch of the Egyptian Jacobites in 64382 is relevant as a precursor to the Christian-Muslim polemics. The fictitious Disputatio Christiani et Saraceni, composed by John of Damascus ( Joannes Damascenus) sometime before about 750 in the form of a dialogue following a question and answer format and staged between a “Saracen” and a Christian on the divinity of Christ and the freedom of human will versus predestination, though probably not a record of any single actual disputation, certainly reflects 77 Cameron, “Disputations, Polemical Literature and the Formation of Opinion,” 100–101, 102. 78 The formal debate between Chalcedonians and Monophysites, held “under imperial auspices” in Constantinople in 531/2 A.D., is an early example (Cameron, “Disputations,” 102). In 532 A.D. a series of “carefully staged discussions” between Chalcedonians and Monophysites, six and eight bishops respectively, were held “with formal imperial representation in an adjunct to the imperial palace, while on the last day the emperor was present himself; it was a show-piece debate, and each side was evidently represented by observers as well as participants” (ibid., 102–3). Yet another example is the disputation of Paul the Persian with Photeinos the Manichean, held before the prefect of Constantinople (ibid., 103). 79 Cameron, “Disputations,” 103. 80 Ibid., 102, 101. 81 Ibid., 101. 82 Ibid., 104.

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the debating experiences of its author and was probably intended as a manual for the use of Christians in their debates with the Muslims.83 The “earliest known extensive debate” between Christian and Muslim, however, is the “famous discussion” between the 'Abbàsid caliph alMahdì and the Nestorian Catholicos Timothy the Great in 164/781.84 The debate between the Melkite scholar and apologist Theodore Abù Qurrah and a number of Muslim Mutakallimùn in the presence of the caliph al-Ma"mùn is another early example.85 Having noted the increasing sophistication of the debating skills of the various Christian sects, the Gnostics, Manicheans and Jews, it seems only natural to anticipate Muslim recourse to their methods and systems of argument, and indeed, according to Shahrastànì 86 and Maimonides,87 the arsenal of logic and many arguments of the ancient

83 John of Damascus (d. 130 or 137/748 or 754) was probably involved in many such disputations himself. This particular work was intended as an apology for Christianity and as a debating manual for the guidance of Christians in their disputations with the Muslims (Harry Austryn Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam [Cambridge, Ma: Harvard University Press, 1976], 241; Hitti, History of the Arabs, 246). This work is often cited by Western scholars as proof that the Qadarite belief in free will in Islam arose under the influence of Christianity, in opposition to the native Muslim belief in predestination (Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam, 61; see also ibid., 607–12). Reference to the existence of a sectarian controversy in Islam over the problem of the uncreatedness of the Quran already during the early part of the 2nd/8th century is also to be found in this work (ibid., 137, 241–44). 84 Samir Khalil Samir, “The Earliest Arab Apology for Christianity (c. 750),” in Christian Arabic Apologetics during the Abbasid Period (750–1258), ed. Samir Khalil Samir and Jørgen S. Nielsen (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1994), 110. The caliph al-Mahdì, alManßùr’s son and successor, had earlier commissioned the Nestorian patriarch Timothy I to translate into Arabic the Topica, the Aristotelian text concerned with the rules of argumentation and disputation on a systematic basis. See Gutas’ exposition of some of the subtler points of the beginning of this “theological debate” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 68). Gutas describes the ensuing debate as “an excellent example of the application of the rules of disputation laid down in the Topics” (ibid.). See also note 51 above. 85 Samir, “The Earliest Arab Apology,” 110. Some scholars have regarded the report of this debate as inauthentic, but many others have argued for its essential authenticity (Mark Swanson, “The Cross of Christ in the Earliest Arabic Melkite Apologies,” in Christian Arabic Apologetics during the Abbasid Period (750–1258), ed. Samir Khalil Samir and Jørgen S. Nielsen [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1994], 120). 86 Al-Shahrastànì, al-Milal wa al-Ni˙al, 1:29; trans. Stetkevych, Abù Tammàm and the Poetics of the 'Abbàsid Age (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1991), 12; and trans. Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam, 19–20. For a critique of both al-Shahrastànì’s derivation of the word kalàm, and his explanation of its origin and evolution, see M. Abdel Haleem, “Early kalàm,” in History of Islamic Philosophy, ed. Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Oliver Leaman (London: Routledge, 2001), 71–88. 87 Maymùnì, Dalàlat al-Óà"irìn, ed. Munk, I, f. 94 a; cited and discussed by S. Horovitz, “Über den Einfluss des Stoicismus auf die Entwicklung der Philosophie

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philosophers were employed by the Mutakallimùn88 both in the elaboration of their creed, and in the defense of that creed in their debates with their opponents.89 2–B.iii

The Translation of the Organon

As Ibn Khaldùn later noted, the Muslims made a distinction between logic and dialectic, on the one hand, and the other philosophical sciences, “in that (they stated that) logic was merely a norm and yardstick for arguments and served to probe the arguments of the (philosophical sciences) as well as (those of ) all other (disciplines).”90 The introduction into Arabic of Greek logic and dialectic in particular, those pre-eminent tools of the disputant, occurred around 194–205/810–820 with the translation of the earlier books of the Aristotelian Organon91 and the brief exposition of the gist of “the four

bei den Arabern,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 62 (1903): 178–79; and by Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam, 48. 88 Von Grunebaum asserted that the conflict over theological and metaphysical issues that obtained between the Mu'tazilites and their numerous Mutakallim adversaries “repeats, essentially, that between the Aristotelian and Megarean (and later, the Stoic) school” (G.E. von Grunebaum, “The Sources of Islamic Civilization,” Der Islam 46 [1970], reprinted as Article VII in Islam and Hellenism: Social and Cultural Perspectives, ed. Dunning S. Wilson [London: Variorum Reprints, 1976], 47 n95). Van Ess, for his part, in his study of the development of Islamic theology, contended that the logic of early kalàm was built on a Stoic basis, with Platonic elements and “quite a remarkable influx of Aristotelian notions” ( Josef van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 32). 89 See A˙mad Amìn, ¸uhr al-Islàm, 2:50, 129; Shawqì Îayf, al-'Asr al-'Abbàsì alAwwal, 132–33; Goitein, “Islam, the Intermediate Civilization,” 225; Van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” esp. 24; Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam, 1–111; H.A.R. Gibb, The Social Significance of the Shuubiya,” in Studies on the Civilization of Islam (ed. Stanford J. Shaw and William R. Polk (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1962), 70–71; Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 92–93; Mu˙ammad Abù Zahrah, Ta'rìkh al-Jadal (Cairo: Dàr al-Fikr al-'Arabì, 1980), 237; A˙mad Amìn Mu߆afà, al-MunàΩaràt fì al-Adab al-'Arabì ilà Nihàyat al-Qarn al-Ràbi' (Cairo: Dàr alNimr li al-ˇibà'ah, 1984), 28, 88; 'Abd al-Hakìm Balba', Adab al-Mu'tazilah ilà Nihàyat al-Qarn al-Ràbi' al-Hijrì, 3rd ed. (Cairo: Dàr Nah∂at Mißr, 1979), 156. 90 Ibn Khaldùn, Al-Muqaddimah, trans. Rosenthal, 3:51. 91 Rescher, Development, 25. The totality of the Organon was referred to as “the nine books” and included Porphyry’s Isagoge (al-Ìsàghùjì ) by way of introduction, the Categoriae (al-Maqùlàt), De Interpretatione (al-'Ibàrah), Analytica Priora (al-Qiyàs), Analytica Posteriora (al-Burhàn), Topica (al-Jadal ), Sophistici Elenchi (al-Mughàla†ah or al-Safsa†ah), Rhetorica (al-Kha†àbah), and Poetica (al-Shi'r). These nine works were “thought of as dealing with nine respective distinct branches of logic, each based upon its canonical text” (Rescher, Studies in the History of Arabic Logic, 13). The first four of these logical treatises were called “the four books” of logic and it was these which constituted

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books” of logic attributed to one Mu˙ammad ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn al-Muqaffa' (d. ca. 200/815), obscure son of the well-known secretary and translator of Pahlavi or Middle Persian literature.92 By about 220–225/835–40, Arabic translations (generally made from the Syriac) of six of the first seven treatises (the Analytica Posteriora was excluded due to theological objections which prevailed against it among the Syriac Christian translators) were available, though again of limited impact because these translators were not themselves students of logic and philosophy but mere translators who never produced any independent studies or commentaries, and their editorial and translating procedures were imperfect. It is reported that in about the year 240/855, Óunayn ibn Is˙àq al-'Ibàdì (ca. 192–264/ca. 808–877), undoubtedly the most reknowned of the translators, was appointed superintendent of the Bayt alÓikmah, in which capacity he oversaw all the translation activities undertaken there until his death in 264/877.93 With his work and that of his associates,94 work that has been referred to as the Óunayn circle “complex of translations,”95 the Graeco-Arabic translation move-

the object of logical studies in the basic curriculum of the Syriac academies (Rescher, Development, 17–19; and Rescher, Studies in the History of Arabic Logic, 14). 92 Rescher, Development, 25. Rescher notes that this last work, however, seems to have had a very limited impact and “failed to stimulate much interest in Greek logic . . . it stands alone, antedating other indigenous (i.e., non-translated) Arabic works relating to logic by almost a generation.” There is some confusion as to whether this epitome was done by 'Abd Allàh Ibn al-Muqaffa' (d. ca. 140/757) from Middle Persian, or by his son, from Syriac or Greek, as Paul Kraus asserted (Peters, Aristoteles Arabus, 11; see also the translator’s introduction in The Fables of Kalilah and Dimnah, trans. Saleh Sa'adeh Jallad [London: Melisende, 2002], 17). Íà'id al-Andalusì unambiguously states that 'Abd Allàh Ibn al-Muqaffa' made an early translation and epitome of Porphyry’s Isagoge (al-Ìsàghùjì ) and Aristotle’s Categoriae (Kitàb Qà†àghùryàs), De Interpretatione (Kitàb Bàrì Armanyàs), and Analytica Priora (Kitàb Anùlù†ìqà) (Íà'id al-Andalusì, ˇabaqàt al-Umam, ed. Óusayn Mu"nis [Cairo: Dàr alMa'àrif, 1998], 68). Al-Jà˙iΩ too mentions Ibn al-Muqaffa' as a translator of Aristotle, but is much less specific in his reference (al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 1:76). 93 Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 117. It is remarkable, however, that in Óunayn’s celebrated Risàlah there is no mention of this institution (G. Strohmaier, Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Óunayn b. Is˙àq al-'Ibàdì”). See, too, Gutas’ reservations concerning the nature and function of this institution (note 44 above). 94 Óunayn engaged two members of his family, his son Is˙àq and his nephew Óubaysh ibn al-Óasan al-A'sam, and another pupil, 'Ìsà ibn Ya˙yà. The whole activity seems thus to have been “a kind of private enterprise” (Strohmaier, “Óunayn b. Is˙àq al-'Ibàdì”). 95 In his discussion of the progress, or “stages,” of the translation movement in its two major aspects, technical and socio-historical, Gutas rejects the inflexible “chronological paradigm of successive stages” or any other theory of a linear devel-

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ment reached its apogee.96 A Nestorian Christian ('Ibàdì) from alÓìrah, Óunayn had pursued extensive medical, philosophical, scientific and linguistic studies in Baghdad, Basrah,97 Jundaysàbùr, and elsewhere (including Alexandria98 and “the lands of the Byzantines”)99 and he is credited with an immense number of translations, into both Syriac and Arabic,100 of Aristotelian, Galenic and Hippocratic philosophical, logical, medical and scientific treatises. In addition, he is credited with numerous commentaries on Aristotlian logical treatises. The scope and volume of the translations of logical works alone undertaken by Óunayn and his circle prompted one modern scholar to assert that Óunayn “and his associates and collaborators deserve opment, and prefers instead to discuss the problem in terms of “complexes of translations.” Gutas enumerates four such complexes, but obviously, many more exist. He refers to the translations of Óunayn ibn Is˙àq and his associates as the Óunayn circle “complex of translations (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 141–50). 96 Ibid., 124. 97 Al-Qif†ì mentions that he studied under the famous lexicographer and prosodist al-Khalìl ibn A˙mad in Basrah, and that he brought the latter’s dictionary Kitàb al-'Ayn to Baghdad upon his return (al-Qiftì, Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 118). See also Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:139, and Íà'id al-Andalusì, ˇabaqàt alUmam, 50. 98 Rescher, Development, 103. Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah mentions that he learned “the language of the Greeks” in Alexandria (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:147), and reports several anecdotes in the first of which Óunayn is humiliated by his teacher, Yù˙annà ibn Màsawayh, leaves his salon in tears and is not seen again for two years; in the second, apparently two years after the above incident and after having mastered Greek in Alexandria, Óunayn is encountered reciting from the poetry of Homer; in the third, he has translated some of Galen’s works on anatomy for Jibrà"ìl ibn Bakhtìshù', al-Ma"mùn’s personal physician, and is treated with deference by the latter for his proficiency in Greek; and in the final anecdote, Yù˙annà ibn Màsawayh learns of Óunayn’s achievements, the two become reconciled, and Óunayn is honored by his former teacher (ibid., 139–42). These anecdotes are preserved in a slightly abridged fashion by Al-Qif†ì (Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 120–21). Shukrì 'Ayyàd discusses the significance of the reference to Óunayn’s ability to recite from Homer (Aristotle, Kitàb Aris†ù†àlìs fì al-Shi'r, Naqlu Abì Bishr Mattà ibn Yùnus al-Qunnà"ì min al-Suryànì ilà al-'Arabì, ed. Shukrì 'Ayyàd [Cairo: al-Hay"ah al-Mißriyyah al-'Àmmah li-l-Kitàb, 1993], 174). Gutas notes that Óunayn explains Homeric allusions in Galenic texts (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 140 n. 51). 99 Al-Qif†ì mentions that Óunayn travelled to “the lands of the Byzantines” to acquire philosophical works (kutub al-˙ikmah), that he mastered the Greek language during his sojourn there, and acquired “precious gems of that science” (al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 119). Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah reports that Óunayn travelled to the “furthest of the Byzantine provinces (ilà aqßà bilàd al-rùm)” in search of books he wished to translate (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:143). 100 Though unrelated to the present subject, it is interesting to note that according to al-Mas'ùdì, Óunayn’s Arabic translation of the Old Testament (al-Tawràh) from Greek into Arabic was regarded as the best among other renderings (alMas'ùdì, al-Tanbìh, 98).

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the lion’s share of credit for the transmission of Greek logic into Arabic.101 Óunayn and his associates’ abilities as translators are affirmed by the report that when in the service of the three scholarly sons of Mùsà ibn Shàkir, they each received about 500 dinars per month,102 an incredible sum when one considers its current value.103 Óunayn’s abilities, in particular, are attested by the report that alMa"mùn later paid him in gold the weight of the books he translated.104 The completion of Óunayn’s vast translation project took two full generations (ca. 225–287/840–900),105 and as better texts of Greek treatises became available to the Arabs,106 and as interest in Greek

101 Rescher, Development, 105. For a complete list of the translated logical works, garnered from all available sources, see Rescher, Development, 103–105. 'Alì Sàmì al-Nashshàr asserts that Óunayn ibn Is˙àq and “his school” completed the translation of the whole of the Organon, either through the intermediary of Syriac, or directly from the Greek (al-Nashshàr, Manàhij al-Ba˙th 'ind Mufakkirì al-Islàm wa Iktishàf alManhaj al-'Ilmì fì al-'Àlam al-Islàmì, 4th ed. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1978], 23). 102 Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:143. 103 Hitti (writing in 1937) estimated that the sum would be the equivalent of about £250 per month (Hitti, History of the Arabs, 313), while Gutas estimates the current value of this monthly salary at $24,000 (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 138). 104 Makdisi adds that it was the very thick paper Óunayn used that made him a rich man, and also accounted for the long survival of his books (George Makdisi, Humanism, 245), probably basing himself on a report to that effect by Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah ('Uyùn al-Anbà", 2:160). 105 Rescher, Development, 28. 106 The story of the Arab acquisition of these Greek texts is fascinating, but the evidence is scarce and mostly anecdotal. For a report concerning Abù Ja'far alManßùr’s efforts to acquire these manuscripts, see Ibn Khaldùn, al-Muqaddimah (Cairo: al-Ma†ba'ah al-Sharafiyyah, 1327 A.H.), 536. For a report concerning al-Mu'taßim’s (inaccurately reported as al-Rashìd’s) acquisition of Greek manuscripts, among other objects of booty, following the conquest of Amorium and Ankara in Asia Minor in 223/838, see Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:124, and al-Ya'qùbì, 1:486; cited by Hitti, History of the Arabs, 310. The caliph al-Ma"mùn seems to have been particularly determined to acquire manuscripts. For reports of his efforts in this regard, see al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 304; Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:143; Ibn Nubàtah, Sar˙ al-'Uyùn, 137; Jalàl al-Dìn al-Suyù†ì, Ta"rìkh al-Khulafà", 304. There are also reports of manuscripts being acquired as gifts from the Byzantines. Alˇabarì, for example, reports that in 265/879, the Byzantine emperor sent Ibn ˇùlùn in Egypt many Muslim prisoners that had been captured by him, along with “a number of manuscripts as a gift” (al-ˇabarì, The History of al-ˇabarì, Vol. XXXVI, The Revolt of the Zanj, trans. David Waines (Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1992), 204). There are reports too of the translators themselves travelling in search of manuscripts, as is known of Óunayn ibn Is˙àq (see note 99 above), who in his Risàlah occasionally mentions the names of the cities in Mesopotamia, Syria, Palestine and even Egypt in which he found Greek manuscripts (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 179; and see Strohmaier, “Óunayn b. Is˙àq al-'Ibàdì”). Qus†à ibn Lùqà is also known to have travelled to the lands of the Byzantines in search

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science and philosophy grew, the Arabic development of Aristotelian logic through commentaries and independent studies also commenced, a development which may be said to have started in earnest with al-Kindì (d. after 256/870). What emerges from this brief sketch of the translation movement in the 3rd/9th century is that by the second half of the century, all the logical works which constituted the foundation of dialectic and contributed to the development of the arts of disputation had already been “translated into Arabic, studied and digested,”107 particularly both Analytics, in which the theory of the syllogism is given its full statement, the Topics, which teaches the logical strategies employed in dialectic, and the Sophistical Refutations, an addendum to the Topics devised by Aristotle as a defense against counterfeit dialectical arguments, or argumentative “dirty fighting (adikomachia),” as he himself says in SE II (Excerpt C).108 Although the 4th/10th century is generally regarded as witnessing the “renaissance of Islam,” the 3rd/9th century is unquestionably the “period of the great influx of Greek works in philosophy and medicine, and their assimilation. . . .”109 It

of Greek manuscripts (Al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr al-'Óukamà", 173). It seems plausible too that Greek scribes, both within the Dàr al-Islàm and also in Asia Minor and Constantinople, would have become aware of Arab interest in Greek manuscripts and would have copied them, either in response to general Arab demand or under commission. The “almost perfect positive correlation” between the works translated into Arabic and the first Greek secular manuscripts copied during the first half of the 9th century would seem to suggest that the correlation is “causally related” (see Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 184–85). 107 George Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges: Institutions of Learning in Islam and the West (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1981), 107. 108 Aristotle, Topics: Books 1 and VIII, trans. Robin Smith (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), xvi. 109 Makdisi, The Rise of Colleges, 79. Boustany describes the 3rd/9th century as “le siècle d’or par excellence dans beaucoup de domaines intellectuels” (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 97). Gutas contends that the “real renaissance, in the original sense of revival of classical Greek learning” took place in the first two centuries of 'Abbàsid rule in Baghdad with the “massive infusion” of translated works (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 154–55). Versteegh (Arabic Grammar, 119) notes that the second half of the 3rd/9th century “witnessed a revival of science and art in Byzantium under the oikoumenikos didaskalos of the patriarchal academy, Photios” (ruled from 856–886/ 242–273; d. ca. 278/891), and Kennedy writes of this Byzantine renaissance that “a new age of learning and oratory dawned in the Byzantine Empire” (George Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric [Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1994], 272, 256). Versteegh wonders if there “could be a correlation between this 'Byzantine renaissance’ and the sudden interest in Greek science in Baghdad” (Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 119). Gutas concludes his musings on “the dialectic between Arabic scholarship in Baghdad in the ninth century and the humanist

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is also the century in which the Mutakallimùn or dialectic theologians in general, and the Mu'tazilah in particular, “made the art of disputation and debate . . . one of the cornerstones of Islam.”110

2–C The MunàΩarah The term munàΩarah was generally applied to these theological disputations which were conducted by question and answer between two adversaries and which were held before an audience, often in the presence of the caliph or a vizier or other such highly-placed personality who might have the function of arbiter in the dispute.111 Initially, conversion was expected from the loser,112 but the exercise eventually became more of a rhetorical contest, an intellectual skirmish. Many of these munàΩaràt on theological issues, such as free will

renaissance in Constantinople” with the provisional assertion that they were “causally and directly related” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 175–86). It is of extreme interest also that this “Greek intellectual renaissance,” which began in the second half of the 3rd/9th century under this “learned Patriarch of Constantinople” (ibid.), was concurrent with the period of the Frankish Carolingian renaissance in the West, during which “transmission of the Latin literary heritage to the Frankish kingdom” was encouraged. At this same time “a great literary movement” also began under the Buddhist emperor Khri sron Ide brtsan, “the Tibetan contemporary and adversary of Harun and Charlemagne.” During his reign a large number of Sanskrit works (and some Central Asian and Chinese texts) were translated into Tibetan and “formed the foundation of Tibetan Buddhist civilization” (Christopher Beckwith, The Tibetan Empire in Central Asia: A History of the Struggle for Great Power among Tibetans, Turks, Arabs and Chinese during the Early Middle Ages [Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1987]: 182–3). 110 A˙mad Amìn, ¸uhr al-Islàm, 2:129. 111 Kraemer has suggested that the munàΩarah as public debate is “a throwback to the ancient munàfarah,” or contest for glory, of the pre-Islamic period (Kraemer, Humanism, 179). On the contests for glory (“mufàkharàt” and “munàfaràt”) of the preIslamic period, and the male and female judges who were expected to settle these contests, see al-Sayyid Ma˙mùd Shukrì al-Àlùsì, Bulùgh al-Arab fì Ma'rifat A˙wàl al'Arab, ed. Mu˙ammad Bahjat al-Atharì, 3 vols., 2nd ed. (Cairo: al-Ma†ba'ah alRa˙màniyyah, 1924), 1:278–344. Although these public debates in the Islamic period bear some resemblance to the pre-Islamic munàfarah, particularly as regards their very competitive and agonistic character, there certainly is no comparison as regards the methods of argumentation employed. See also note 147 below, and notes 121 and 125 in Chapter 3–D of Part II. 112 Ibn al-Murta∂à reports that Abù al-Hudhayl’s munàΩaràt with Magians, dualists and others are lengthy and numerous, and that he was so skilled in these disputations that upwards of three thousand men are said to have been defeated by him and converted to Islam (Ibn al-Murta∂à, ˇabaqàt al-Mu'tazilah, ed. Susanna Diwald-Wilzer [Beirut: Imprimerie Catholique, 1961], 44).

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versus predestination, eternity of the cosmos versus its creation in time, theories of motion and of atomism by which creation was proved or disproved, etc., are preserved in al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì’s Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à’s Amàlì al-Murta∂à, Ibn Abì ˇàhir ˇayfùr’s Kitàb Baghdàd, al-Khayyà† al-Mu'tazilì’s al-Intißàr, Yàqùt’s Mu'jam al-Udabà", al-Ißbahànì’s al-Aghànì, Ibn 'Abd Rabbih’s al-'Iqd al-Farìd, Ibn al-Murta∂à’s ˇabaqàt al-Mu'tazilah, al-Jà˙iΩ’s al-Óayawàn, al-Taw˙ìdì’s al-Imtà' wa-l-Mu"ànasah and his al-Muqàbasàt, Najm alDìn al-ˇùfì al-Óanbalì’s 'Alam al-Jadhal fì 'Ilm al-Jadal, Abù Manßùr al-ˇabarsì’s al-I˙tijàj and certainly numerous other places as well,113 and collectively they provide a clear and lively picture of both the contents of these disputations and the methods employed. The “sometimes very elaborate and far-fetched argumentations”114 already present here, however, also indicate the direction these disputations eventually took, the “argumentum ad hominem” triumphing,115 and the kalàm [dialectic theology] becoming, according to its critics, “a kind of sophistry: an art of making contradictions.”116 The munàΩarah was vitally important for oral theological dispute and it also had a stylistic influence on theological literature; the latter adopted the framework of question and answer prevalent in the oral dispute, and many of these books and treatises were “composed as a kind of manual for a debate about the subject they treat.”117 Very soon, a theory of disputation developed, known as adab al-jadal, and the rules and methods of argumentation, i.e., the principles of dialectic, as well as the etiquette of deportment expected in these debates, became codified in manuals.118 The extent to which this

113 Shawqì Îayf has reproduced a number of these munàΩaràt (Îayf, al-'Asr al'Abbàsì al-Awwal, 457–60). Abu Zahrah also includes many examples on diverse subjects in his Tarìkh al-Jadal. Two other modern sources are A˙mad Amìn Mu߆afà’s al-MunàΩaràt fì al-Adab al-'Arabì, and Ra˙ìm Jabr A˙mad al-Óasnàwì’s al-MunàΩaràt al-Lughawiyyah wa-l-Adabiyyah fì al-Óa∂àrah al-'Arabiyyah al-Islàmiyyah ('Ammàn: Dàr Usàmah, 1999). 114 Peters, J.R.T.M., God’s Created Speech: A Study in the Speculative Theology of the Mu'tazilì Qà∂ì al-Qu∂àt Abù al-Óasan 'Abd al-Jabbàr bn A˙mad al-Hamadhànì (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1976), 4. 115 Van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 25. 116 R.M. Frank, “The Kalàm, an Art of Contradiction-making or Theological Science? Some Remarks on the Question,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 88 (1968): 295. 117 Josef van Ess, Theology and Science: the Case of Abù Is˙àq al-NaΩΩàm (Ann Arbor, Mi.: University of Michigan, 1978), 2. 118 An early example is al-Burhàn fì Wujùh al-Bayàn, by Abù al-Óusayn Is˙àq ibn

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“theory of the djadal can be traced back to Greek sources cannot be answered unambiguously” writes Wagner, but he concludes that “influence on the djadal emanated . . . from the Hellenistic schools of rhetoric and was transmitted by the Christians.”119 Eventually, disputation freed itself from the domains and requirements of theology and jurisprudence120 and the format and rules of the munàΩarah were applied in all sciences, from grammar and philology121 and literary criticism,122 to physics, medicine123 and cosmology, with logic as “the final arbitrator.”124 The term munàΩarah was retained for these disIbràhìm ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb al-Kàtib, the cousin (ibn 'amm) of Ibn al-Rùmì’s important patron, al-Qàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb. For an overview of the etiquette of behavior that was expected at these disputation sessions, as well as the “bad manners” often displayed, including the ‘terror sessions (majàlis al-khawf ), see Stroumsa, Freethinkers, 173–88. 119 E. Wagner, Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “MunàΩara.” 120 See the famous debate between Abù Bishr Mattà ibn Yùnus and Abù Sa'ìd al-Sìràfì in 320/932 in the salon of the vizier al-Fa∂l ibn Ja'far ibn al-Furàt, on the relative merits of grammar and philosophy. The debate is preserved in alTaw˙ìdì, al-Imtà' wa al-Mu"ànasah, 1:107–28, and translated and discussed by Muhsin Mahdì, “Language and Logic in Classical Islam,” 51–83. Al-Sìràfì, though known in the tradition particularly for his hostilility to, and contempt for, the merits of logic as a tool within the field of grammar, was himself a Mu'tazilite (Ibn alMurta∂à, ˇabaqàt al-Mu'tazilah, 131) and a pupil of the famous Mu'tazilite al-Jubbà"ì (d. 303/915), had spent much time studying Greek authors, and had devoted considerable energy to the study of logic. As such he “did not escape [logic’s] influence,” and his opposition to Mattà ibn Yùnus is perhaps more correctly interpreted as not so much directed against logic in general, but against Aristotelian logic as preached by Mattà, and “against its extravagant claims to supremacy in science” (Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 125). 121 Excellent sources for these munàΩaràt on issues of grammar and philology are al-Zubaydì’s ˇabaqàt al-Na˙wiyyìn wa-al-Lughawiyyìn, al-Qif†ì’s Inbàh al-Ruwàh 'alà Anbàh al-Nu˙àh, ed. Mu˙ammad Abù al-Fa∂l Ibràhìm, 4 vols. (Cairo: Ma†ba'at Dàr al-Kutub, 1950–73), and Abù al-Qàsim 'Abd al-Ra˙màn ibn Is˙àq al-Zajjàjì’s Majàlis al-'Ulamà", ed. 'Abd al-Salàm Mu˙ammad Hàrùn, 2nd ed. (al-Riyà∂: Dàr al-Rifà'ì, 1983). 122 The format and methods of the munàΩarah also influenced the stylistics of numerous works of literary criticism. The opening section of al-Àmidì’s (d. 370/980–81) al-Muwàzanah, for example, is styled as a debate conducted by question and answer between a partisan of Abù Tammàm (Íà˙ib Abì Tammàm) and a partisan of alBu˙turì (Íà˙ib al-Bu˙turì). See al-Àmidì, al-Muwàzanah, 6–56. 123 The format and methods of the munàΩarah also influenced the stylistics of numerous medical treatises. Al-Nadìm reports (al-Fihrist, 353) that Óunayn ibn Is˙àq, for example, wrote a treatise on urine, and another on the eye, “in the form of questions and answers ('alà †arìq al-mas"alah wa-l-jawàb).” Indeed, Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah notes that “most of the books he [Óunayn] compiled were in the form of questions and answers” (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:162). Qus†à ibn Lùqà likewise wrote an introduction to the science of geometry, and an epistle on the states and causes of venereal passion, “in the form of questions and answers” (Ibid., 2:245). 124 Wagner, “MunàΩara.”

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putations as well, though it is sometimes used interchangeably with others.125 As mentioned previously, a number of the earlier munàΩarahs, particularly those attributed to the two eminent Mu'tazilite theologians of Basrah, Abù al-Hudhayl al-'Allàf (d. 227 or 235/842 or 850) and his cousin Ibràhìm ibn Sayyàr al-NaΩΩàm (d. 231/846), the teacher of al-Jà˙iΩ, have been preserved in the classical sources, and are illuminating in that they provide a picture of the methods used in these debates, and the arguments employed. One, reported by al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à, occurred between Abù al-Hudhayl al-'Allàf in his youth126 and a Jew who had come to Basrah and had proceeded to defeat the most eminent of the Mutakallimùn there (qa†a'a mashàyikha lMutakallimìn), by first forcing them to acknowledge the prophecy of Moses, and, upon securing an affirmative, going on to say, “We all concur in this, let’s now see if you can make me assent to what you allege” (na˙nu 'alà mà "ttafaqnà 'alayhi [min ßi˙˙at nubùwat Mùsà] ilà an nujmi'a 'alà mà tadda'ùnah). Al-'Allàf approached the man and said, “Shall I pose the first question, or you?” to which the Jew said, “I

125 Other such terms include muràja'ah, musàyarah, mu˙à∂arah, mudhàkarah, munàfarah, muwàjahah (al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 63, 70, 125, 260, 267), munàza'ah (alÓußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 63, 260; al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 16:186; Ibn al-Mu'tazz, ˇabaqàt al-Shu'arà", ed. 'Abd al-Sattàr A˙mad Farràj, 4th ed. [Cairo: Dàr al-Ma'àrif, 1981], 425), mushàjarah (al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 4:107), mu'àra∂ah (al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 267; Ibn Wahb, al-Burhàn fì Wujùh al-Bayàn, ed. Óifnì Mu˙ammad Sharaf [Cairo: Maktabat al-Shabàb, 1969], 183–84), munàqa∂ah (al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 267; Ibn Wahb, alBurhàn, 184–85), more specifically for poetic contests, musàjalah, muqàra∂ah, mu†àra˙ah (al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 23:85–86), and for the less dignified forms of these disputations, muhàtarah (al-Óußrì, Jam' al-Jawàhir, 63), mumàràh and the related mirà" (Ibn Wahb, al-Burhàn, 177), mughàla†ah and mumàna'ah (al-ˇùfì, 'Alam al-Jadhal fì 'Ilm alJadal, 7). Another common term used is mujàdalah, but although sometimes held to be synonyms, a number of sources are careful in particular to distinguish between munàΩarah and mujàdalah. Lane, for example, notes that whereas munàΩarah signifies “the examining mentally, or investigating, by two parties, the relation between two things, in order to evince the truth,” mujàdalah signifies “the disputing respecting a question of science for the purpose of convincing the opponent, whether what he says be wrong in itself or not” (Lane, Lexicon, s.v. “n-Ω-r”). 126 Abù al-Hudhayl is generally regarded as having been a gifted dialectician by nature; he himself claimed to have won his first debate when less than fifteen years of age (al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì, Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, 3:367). In fact, it seems that the disputation between Abù al-Hudhayl and the Jew summarized below is his first; in alKha†ìb al-Baghdàdì’s account, Abù al-Hudhayl’s description of the debate immediately follows his claim that he won his first debate when a mere 15 years of age. Abù al-Hudhayl also reports asking his uncle to take him to meet and debate the Jew, and that after some reluctance on his part, “he [his uncle] took my hand and we went to meet the Jew” (ibid., 367).

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shall ask you the first question.”127 “Go ahead (dhàka ilayk),” replied al-'Allàf, whereupon the Jew asked him, “Do you acknowledge that Moses was a true prophet, or will you deny this and contradict your colleague?” Abù al-Hudhayl responded, “If this Moses about whom you question me is the same that predicted the coming of my prophet, upon whom be peace, testified to his prophecy and accepted him as true, then he is a true prophet. But if he is other than I have described him, then he is a devil whose prophecy I do not acknowledge.” The Jew hadn’t anticipated this, but lost no time in asking Abù al-Hudhayl, “Do you believe that the Torah is true?” to which he responded, “This issue is analogous to the first. If this Torah about which you question me is that which comprises the announcement of the coming of my prophet, upon whom be peace, then it is true and authentic. But if it does not, then it is not true and I do not confirm and confess it,” at which point the Jew was left bewildered, dumfounded and at a loss for words ( fa-buhita wa-uf˙ima wa-lam yadri mà yaqùl ).128 In his refutation of the polemical works of “the atheist” Ibn alRàwandì (d. end of the 3rd/9th century), Abù al-Óusayn al-Khayyà† (roughly a contemporary of the former and thus also of Ibn al-Rùmì), one of the pre-eminent Mu'tazilite scholars of his day, preserves many of the munàΩaràt of Ibràhìm al-NaΩΩàm. The latter’s arguments for the creation of the universe a parte ante, including his refutation of the Manichean view of an infinite place using the Aristotelian principle of “the intraversability of an infinite,” and his refutation of the Dahriyyah (Materialist) position on the eternity of the cosmos employing an extension of the same argument, have been translated and analyzed by Wolfson.129 In another of his debates, al-NaΩΩàm refutes the dualist doctrines of the Manicheans using the method of ilzàm (i.e., turning one’s opponent’s own arguments against him). He begins by asking his opponents 127 Normally, one should grant the younger or weaker participant in these disputations the privilege of posing the first question (Stroumsa, Freethinkers, 174, citing van Ess, “Disputationspraxis,” 37, and Ibn Óazm, Taqrìb, 187). 128 Al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à, Amàlì al-Murta∂à, 1:178–79. The debate is reproduced with minor differences by Îayf (al-'Asr al-'Abbàsì al-Awwal, 457–58), and by A˙mad Amìn Mu߆afà (al-MunàΩaràt fì al-Adab al-'Arabì, 110). The account of the debate preserved by al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì (Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, 3:367–68) is essentially the same as that related by al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à, but it is more elaborate. 129 Harry Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam, 416–17. Al-NaΩΩàm’s arguments are preserved in al-Khayyà†, al-Intißàr, 75–78.

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“Tell us about the man who utters speech in which there is falsehood. Who is it that has lied?” to which they reply, “Darkness.” “And if afterwards,” al-NaΩΩàm continues, “he feels remorse for what he has said, and confesses ‘Indeed I lied and I have done wrong,’ then who is it that has said ‘I lied’?” At this point his opponents became confused and did not know how to respond ( fa-"khtala†ù 'inda dhàlika walam yadrù mà yaqùlùn). Al-NaΩΩàm continues “If you claim that it is light that has said ‘I lied and have done wrong,’ then light itself has lied because falsehood is not of its nature, it doesn’t utter lies, lies are evil and evil is thus seen to come from light and this destroys your argument. And if you say that it was darkness that said ‘I lied and have wronged,’ then darkness spoke the truth, and truthfulness is good, and there thus issued from darkness both truthfulness and falsehood which in your view are different and incompatible.130 From the one [of the two absolutes] there thus issued what are in your view the two contradictory elements of good and evil, and this destroys your argument [of their inseparable co-eternality].”131

The next example, although it provides no information on the actual contents of the disputation, is particularly interesting in that it gives many details about the regulations of form and manners that were observed in these munàΩarahs in Baghdad in the second half of the 10th century. The report is a record of the impressions of an Andalusian legist and traditionist, one Abù 'Umar A˙mad ibn Mu˙ammad ibn Sa'dì, to two debate sessions of the dialectic theologians (majàlis ahl al-kalàm) that he attended in Baghdad. The first session was convened between Muslims, both Sunnìs and heretics (ahl al-bid'ah), and infidels (kuffàr) from among the Magians, the Dahriyyah, Dualists (zanàdiqah), Jews, Christians and all other godless sorts (wa-sà"ir ajnàs al-kufr). Each sect had its own superior who represented its respective creed and disputed on its behalf (wa-yujàdil 'anhu). When one of these dignitaries from whatever sect arrived, the whole assembly would rise to their feet and

130 Darkness’s assertion that it has lied is equivalent to the assertion of a liar that his assertions are lies, and this is “the famous sophism of the mendacious Cretan” about which the Stoic Chrysippos (2nd century B.C.) wrote six books of most subtle argument ( Josef van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 31. 131 Al-Khayyà†, al-Intißàr, 72–73. See also the munàΩarah preserved by al-Jà˙iΩ between the caliph al-Ma"mùn and a zindìq named Abù 'Alì (al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 4:442–43), and preserved also by Ibn 'Abd Rabbih (al-'Iqd al-Farìd, ed. Mu˙ammad Sa'ìd al-'Aryàn, 8 vols. [Cairo: Dàr al-Fikr, n.d.], 2:196–97), Ibn Qutaybah ('Uyùn al-Akhbàr, 2:152) and Mu˙ammad Abù Zahrah (Ta"rìkh al-Jadal, 234) where the caliphs’ opponent is identified merely as a dualist and where his argument essentially follows that of al-NaΩΩàm translated above.

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part i – chapter two remain standing until he had taken his seat. When the majlis had become full and they realized that they were expecting no one else, one of the infidels said: “You have gathered for disputation (li-lmunàΩarah). Let not any of the Muslims advance arguments against us from their own scripture or from the sayings of their prophet, for we do not believe in, or acknowledge, them. Rather, let us dispute with intellectual arguments and all that is permitted in philosophical speculation and reasoning by analogy (wa-innamà natanàΩar bi-˙ujaji ’l-'aqli wa-mà ya˙tamiluhu ’n-naΩaru wa-’l-qiyàs). They [the Muslims] then replied, “Yes, indeed. Let it be so.”132

As is clear from his description, this witness takes offense at the very tolerant and open-minded nature of this disputation forum. He leaves and vows never to return. He does, however, attend another majlis in Baghdad but finds the regulations and procedures similar and resolves never to attend any others.133 Not all disputations were characterized by such strict observance of decorum. The author of al-Aghànì reports the details of a munàΩarah between the poet Abù al-'Atàhiyah, known as a partisan of the Mujbirah, or those who professed predestination, and the famous Mu'tazilite Thumàmah ibn al-Ashras, in the presence of the caliph al-Ma"mùn.134 The poet asked Thumàmah, “May I ask you a question concerning an oft-raised issue?” to which al-Ma"mùn interjected, “Stick with your poetry.” Abù al-'Atàhiyah then said to the caliph, “If the Commander of the Faithful would only permit me to ask him a question and compel him to give me an answer,” to which al-Ma"mùn complied, telling Thumàmah, “Respond to him if he poses a question to you.” The poet then said, “I maintain that all good and evil deeds done by God’s servants issue from Him, and you deny this. So who is it that is moving this hand of mine?” he

132 Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad al-Óumaydì, Jadhwat al-Muqtabas fì Dhikr Wulàt al-Andalus, ed. Mu˙ammad Tàwìt al-ˇanjì (Cairo: Ma†ba'at al-Sa'àdah, 1952), 101–02. 133 Ibid., 102. The description is also paraphrased by Stroumsa, Freethinkers, 175. See also Kraemer, Humanism, 59. 134 The difficult question of the freedom of human will versus predestination has engaged the Muslim community from the very beginning. Ibn al-Rùmì himself devoted a 66-line qaßìdah to a defense of the Mu'tazilite doctrine of free will (see the discussion of this poem in Chapter 3–A of Part II). See the munàΩarah between the poets Dhu al-Rummah, who was Mu'tazilite, and Ru"bah, who was a compulsionist (min ahli ’l-ithbàt), on the subject (al-ˇùfì, 'Alam al-Jadhal fì 'Ilm al-Jadal, 210–11; also preserved in al-Zajjàjì, Majàlis al-'Ulamà", 123, and Ibn Nubàtah, Sar˙ al-'Uyùn, 167–68, but without the detailed explanation present in al-ˇùfì).

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asked, moving his hand about, to which Thumàmah replied, “He whose mother is an adulteress moved it.” At this the poet exclaimed, “He’s insulted me, by God, O Commander of the Faithful.” Thumàmah then pressed on, saying, “He who sucks his mother’s clitoris has contradicted himself by God, O Commander of the Faithful,” at which the caliph laughed and turned to Abù al-'Atàhiyah, saying, “Didn’t I tell you to attend to your poetry and leave off what’s not in your field?” Thumàmah later met Abù al-'Atàhiyah who said to him, “Why couldn’t your answer have done without such insolence?” to which Thumàmah replied, “Indeed the most perfect rejoinder is that which destroys the tendered argument, punishes for the offensive belief, cures the anger one feels and takes revenge on the ignorant (Inna min atammi ’l-kalàmi mà qa†a'a ’l-˙ujjata wa-'àqaba 'alà ’l-isà"ati washafà mina ’l-ghayΩi wa-'ntaßara mina ’l-jàhil).”135 Ibn al-Murta∂à preserves the gist of a curious munàΩarah held between Abù al-Qàsim 'Abd Allàh ibn A˙mad al-Balkhì (d. 319/930) and a Sophist (rajulun mina ’s-sùfis†à"iyyah) who arrived at his majlis riding a mule, dismounted and proceeded to contest what everyone else held to be necessary and indispensable truths (al-∂arùriyyàt), and to argue for what seemed to them sheer fantasy. When no one present was able to convince him of his error, he rose and left, only to return later to continue the disputation. Again no one was able to dissuade him from his position. At last he rose again to leave, but this time he wasn’t able to find his mule. When he told Abù al-Qàsim that he hadn’t been able to find his mule, Abù al-Qàsim said to him: “Perhaps you didn’t leave it in the place you just now sought it, and you just imagined that you had left it there. Or rather, perhaps you didn’t arrive riding a donkey at all, and you just imagined that you had, and it was all a fantastic deception.” Abù al-Qàsim continued to argue with him in this manner and, Ibn al-Murta∂à

135 Al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 4:6. This debate is preserved in essentially the same form by Ibn al-Murta∂à (ˇabaqàt al-Mu'tazilah, 63–64), Ibn 'Abd Rabbih (al-'Iqd alFarìd, 2:195) and al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì (Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, 7:147). The same argumentative strategy was employed by al-Nàshi" al-Aßghar in a munàΩarah, recorded by Yàqùt, with a group of Mujbirah, but with additional explanatory comments of al-Nàshi". In the debate, one of al-Nàshi"s opponents raised his hand and moved it and said to him, “Who is it that moved this hand?”, to which he replied, “One whose mother is an adulteress.” The man naturally became angry, at which point al-Nàshi" exclaimed, “You’ve contradicted yourself. If the mover was other than yourself, then why are you angry?” (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:288).

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adds, this was the reason for the Sophist’s recantation of his former beliefs.136 Yàqùt preserves descriptions of a number of the munàΩaràt engaged in by Abù al-Óusayn 'Alì ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn Waßìf al-Nàshi’ (d. 365/976), the son of a man whom Abù al-Óusayn reports Ibn al-Rùmì visited frequently towards the end of his life.137 Al-Nàshi’ was a Shì'ite Mutakallim fond of disputation, and was known for “mixing his jadal and munàΩaràt with witty jesting and amusing buffoonery and pranks with the aim of shaming and confounding his adversary.”138 During the course of one of these debates, with none other than Abù al-Óasan al-Ash'arì (who regarded the Mujbirah as his precursors),139 Abù al-Óusayn slapped his opponent on the back of the head. The latter exclaimed, “What was that for, Abù al-Óusayn!” to which he retorted, “That was God’s doing, so why are you angry with me?” Al-Ash'arì angrily insisted, “None but you did it, and it was bad manners and inappropriate behavior for a munàΩarah.” “You’ve contradicted yourself,” (nàqa∂ta) al-Nàshi" proclaimed, “for if you abide by the doctrines of your school, then it was the doing of God, but if you’ve shifted (wa-in intaqalta), then take your compensation (by slapping me in return)!” at which the assembly burst into laughter and the incident became an oft-told anecdote.140 As the above examples illustrate, although they clearly reflect the apologetic and polemic aspects of these debates, they also provide a glimpse into a development which resulted in the eventual differentiation between ba˙th and jadal. Distinguishing between the two in his treatise al-Burhàn fì Wujùh al-Bayàn, Abù al-Óusayn Is˙àq ibn Ibràhìm al-Kàtib, a younger contemporary of Ibn al-Rùmì, asserts that in the former one seeks the burhàn, the decisive proof, fashioned in the clearest manner possible and without attention to convincing Ibn al-Murta∂à, ˇabaqàt al-Mu'tazilah, 89. Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:281. 138 Ibid., 283. Perhaps he had benefited from Aristotle’s comments in his Rhetoric on the function of jesting as a powerful weapon in any serious debate: jests “are supposed to be of some service in controversy. Gorgias said that you should kill your opponents’ earnestness with jesting and their jesting with earnestness, in which he was right” (Aristotle, Rhetoric, 1419b, as trans. by W. Rhys Roberts, The Works of Aristotle, Vol. XI, Oxford, 1946; cited by van Gelder, “Arabic Debates of Jest and Earnest,” in Dispute Poems and Dialogues in the Ancient and Mediaeval Near East, ed. Reinink and Vanstiphout [Louvain: Peeters Press, 1991], 201). 139 L. Gardet, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Isti†à'a.” 140 Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:285–86. 136 137

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an adversary, while in the latter one argues according to one’s adversary, one’s chief concern being to force him to concede to one’s arguments,141 one’s arguments often being “made for momentary success . . . [proving] that one was right, but not always that one had the complete truth.”142 Shawqì Îayf refers to the “refinement and sophistry” (al-Ωarf wa-l-safsa†ah) which begins to characterize these munàΩaràt as evidence of the richness of the mentality of the times,143 though long before him the poet Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì had referred to these developments in a more ironic fashion.144 Defeat could be the cause of deep humiliation. Al-Qif†ì reports that Hàrùn ibn al-Óà"ik’s ignominious defeat in his disputation with al-Zajjàj, organized in order to determine the better qualified for the post of tutor to the son of the vizier 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb, was “the cause of his [Hàrùn’s] death . . . it weighed heavily on his heart and he died as a consequence.”145 Sìbawayh was so humiliated by his defeat in his famous munàΩarah with al-Kisà"ì in the presence of Ya˙yà ibn Khàlid al-Barmakì and his two sons, Ja'far

141 Ibn Wahb al-Kàtib, Kitàb al-Burhàn fì Wujùh al-Bayàn, 179; cited also by van Ess, “Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 25. Ibn 'Aqìl makes a similar differentiation between the object of naΩar and jadal. He states that the practitioner of the former seeks to attain the truth, whereas the practitioner of jadal attempts to cause his adversary to shift from one thesis to another, or from one thesis to any other, by way of argumentation (Ibn 'Aqìl, al-Wà∂i˙ fì Ußùl al-Fiqh, 1: fol. 61a–b; cited by Makdisi, Rise of Colleges, 110). This last point would explain the terminology used by al-Nàshi" in the anecdote cited above. 142 Van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 25. In his Tablìs Iblìs, Ibn al-Jawzì, though writing much later, scornfully derides his contemporaries’ excesses: “The major portion of their effort is concentrated on acquiring the science of dialectic. . . . [ They] spend their time on disputation, to the exclusion of the recitation of the Koran, of hadith, of the life of the Prophet and his companions. . . . They engage in disputation for purposes other than the discovery of the truth; they even become angry when the opponent discovers it, and bend every effort toward refuting him, knowing full well that he is right. Their sole object is to defeat their adversaries and achieve leadership [riyasa], and to this end they are ready to go to extremes, to become angry, curse and revile the adversary” (cited and trans. by Makdisi, Rise of Colleges, 139–40). 143 Îayf, al-'Asr al-'Abbàsì al-Awwal, 462. 144 In a masterfully ironic poem, the poet Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì characterizes several examples of the disputatious literature of his age as “a dazzling monument of mere fine words,” in which the authors “cease not ever, north and south,/Drawing out syllogisms interminable” (al-Ma'arrì, Luzùmu mà là yalzamu, ed. Nadìm 'Adì [Damascus: ˇlàs li-l-Diràsàt wa-l-Tarjamah wa-l-Nashr, 1986], 1:417; trans. R.A. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic Poetry [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1921], 268. 145 Al-Qif†ì, Inbàh al-Ruwàh, 3:361. See the brief account of this mudhàkarah at the end of Chapter 2–B of Part II of this study.

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and al-Fa∂l, that he returned to Persia “and remained there until his death, and never returned to Basrah.”146 The victors in these agonistic contests often forgot themselves with the taste of “the sweetness of victory (ladhdhat al-ghalabah),”147 and losers frequently became discomposed.148 Because of the inherently contentious nature of the disputations,149 they often degenerated into quarrels and verbal abuse150 and sometimes led to actual violence. The famous jurisconsult al-Shàfi'ì (d. 204/820) died due to blows he sustained from the supporters of a Màlikì opponent whom he had defeated in a disputation ( fa-Ωahara 'alayhi al-Shàfi'iyyu fì-’l-˙ijàj ) before a large audience,151 and Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Óusayn ibn Mu˙ammad al-Najjàr, a leading theologian among the Mujbirah 146

Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:185–88, and al-Zajjàjì, Majàlis al-'Ulamà", 9–10. Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 13:179. Curiously, certain scholars have regarded the agonistic principle as specifically Greek, and some, like Victor Ehrenberg, have insisted that “to the Orient it remained alien and antipathetic” (cited by Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play-Element in Culture, trans. R.F.C. Hull [London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1949], 72). But surely the underlying principle in the munàΩarah, this contest of words attended increasingly by braggadocio and challenge (see the description of the methods of Fakhr al-Dìn al-Ràzì on p. 271 below), is “agonistic ‘instinct’ pure and simple” (Huizinga, Homo Ludens, 61). See Huizinga’s discussion of “contests for honour” and “bragging and scoffing matches” in the Arabian (referring to the munàfarah and mufàkharah contests of pre-Islamic Arabia) and other traditions, their “play-character” (if “serious,” fateful and “fatal play”) which is “beyond dispute,” and their civilizing function (Huizinga, Homo Ludens, 63–71). 148 Al-Shàfi'ì reports (al-Bayhaqì, Manàqib al-Shàfi'ì, ed. al-Sayyid A˙mad Íaqr, 2 vols. [Cairo: Dàr al-Turàth, 1970], 1:181–82) that in one of his many disputations with Mu˙ammad ibn al-Óasan al-Shaybànì (d. 189/804–05), the latter’s jugular veins swelled and his buttons popped off one by one until no buttons remained on his garment (“wa-kàna yunàΩirunì wa-tantafikhu awdàjuhu wa-yanqa†i'u zirruhu ˙attà baqiya bi-là zirr”). 149 Al-Nàshi" al-Akbar, well-known for his debating skills (see note 152 of Chapter 4–B.v.f of Part II), intimates how truculent the atmosphere could become at these disputation sessions (al-Óußrì, Zahr al-Àdàb, 4:922): 147

If you could only witness my performances in the many salons when I confront my adversaries and blood flows. [2] 150 See, for example, the disputation between Abù al-Hudhayl al-'Allàf and the Jew which ended in name-calling (al-Sharìf al-Murta∂à, Amàlì al-Murta∂à, 1:179, and al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì, Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, 3:368). Al-Shàfi'ì’s disputation with the Malikite jurisconsult Fityàn similarly ended with the latter insolently cursing alShàfi'ì ( fa-shatama al-Shàfi'iyya shatman qabì˙an). Al-Shàfi'ì himself remained calm, paid no attention to the verbal abuse and proceeded to overwhelm his adversary with his arguments. Fityàn was actually punished for his misbehavior by being whipped and paraded in public on a camel (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 17:322). 151 Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 17:322–23; cited also by Makdisi, Rise of Colleges, 136. See the preceding note.

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who was reckoned one of the people of discernment (wa-kàna min ahli ’n-nàΩirìna), similarly died from blows sustained after a disputation on a problem related to free will with Ibràhìm al-NaΩΩàm at the house of some of the latter’s intimates.152 Perhaps similar circumstances led to the injuries sustained by the Shàfi'ite al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì at the hands of a group of Hanbalites in the Mosque of al-Manßùr in 451/1059.153 Ibn Khallikàn reports that in the year 613/1216–17, Yàqùt was forced to flee Damascus in fear for his life after engaging a partisan of 'Alì ibn Abì ˇàlib in a munàΩarah. Because his adversary was actually from Baghdad, he seems never to have returned to the city for fear that the former would have transmitted what transpired in the disputation and that he would be killed as a result.154 From time to time books on dialectic, kalàm and philosophy were banned by the authorities. Very early, the caliph Hàrùn al-Rashìd (ruled 169–193/786–809) is reported to have prohibited disputations and to have imprisoned Mutakallimùn until he realized their indispensibility in defending Islam in munàΩarahs with their opponents.155 Al-Nuwayrì reports that in 279/892, just four years before Ibn alRùmì’s death, “it was proclaimed in the City of Peace that [henceforth] no Qà∂ì (qà∂in; most likely a misspelling of qàßßin, i.e., popular preacher) astrologer or diviner would be permitted to take his place on the roadside or in the congregational mosque (nùdiya bi-madìnat al-salàm allà yaq'uda 'alà al-†arìq wa-là bi-l-masjid al-jàmi' qà∂in wa-là munajjimun wa-là zàjir), and the booksellers swore not to sell books on speculative theology (kalàm) and dialectical disputation ( jadal ).”156 Five years later, in 284/897, just a year after Ibn al-Rùmì’s death, the caliph al-Mu'ta∂id 152

Al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 229. Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 4:15, 25. 154 Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt al-A'yàn, 6:127. See also note 359 in Chapter 2–E.ii. 155 Ibn al-Murta∂à, ˇabaqàt al-Mu'tazilah, 54–56, and al-ˇùfì, 'Alam al-Jadhal fì 'Ilm al-Jadal, 11, 236–38. See also A˙mad Amìn Mu߆afà, al-MunàΩaràt fì al-Adab al-'Arabì, 33–34. 156 Al-Nuwayrì, Nihàyat al-Arab, 22:345. Ibn al-Athìr notes that books on philosophy were also banned (al-Kàmil, 7:150; cited by Boustany, Ibn al-Rùmì, 75), as does Ibn al-Jawzì (al-MuntaΩam fì Ta"rìkh al-Umam wa-al-Mulùk, ed. Mu˙ammad 'Abd alQàdir 'A†à and Mu߆afà 'Abd al-Qàdir 'A†à [Beirut: Dàr al-Kutub al-'Ilmiyyah, 1992], 12:305. Al-Suyù†ì also reports the event, and mentions that the subjects banned were philosophy and dialectical disputation (kutub al-falàsifah wa-l-jadal). He adds that it was al-Mu'ta∂id who exacted the oath from the booksellers (Al-Suyù†ì, Ta"rìkh al-Khulafà", 337, 340). Al-ˇabarì also reports the event (al-ˇabarì, The History of al-ˇabarì, Vol. XXXVII, The 'Abbàsid Recovery, trans. Philip M. Fields [Albany, N.Y.: State University of New York Press, 1987], 176). 153

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part i – chapter two again exhorted the people to forsake their zealous partisanship. He prohibited preachers from preaching in the Mosques and on the public roads, the booksellers from plying their trade in public squares, and the leaders of study-circles for fatwas in the Mosques and others from conducting their disputations. He issued a decree prohibiting assemblies of any kind, announcing that those who assembled to hold disputations would be liable to punishment by flogging.157

Writing about a century after Ibn al-Rùmì’s death, the poet alMa'arrì expressed his contempt for the practitioners of jadal in verses which “exude the sort of skepticism which an over-indulgence in disputation could produce throughout a long period of development”:158 Muslims err, Christians find not their way, Jews are confused, Magians led astray. Two are the people of this earth: One man intelligent without religion, The other religious without intellect.159 [3]

Considerable attention has been devoted to the munàΩarah because it is the phenomenon which perhaps best typifies the cultural life of the 3rd/9th century; because it brought together people of all religious, political, social and ethnic backgrounds of the period and acquainted participants and observers alike with each other’s methods and systems of argument, beliefs, concepts and values, and thus facilitated that “osmosis” that Versteegh has posited is responsible for the indirect influence of disparate cultures, one on the other, that occurred at this time; and most importantly for the present purposes, because Ibn al-Rùmì himself explicitly states that he attended these disputations, and that he and numerous of his patrons participated in them. In the following poem the poet presents a lively description of dialecticians involved in a disputation session, and although he delivers harsh criticism of the practitioners, this is probably not to be construed as a critique of jadal, or dialectic disputation, itself, for Ibn al-Rùmì boasted on more than one occasion of his own disputational skills and knowledge of the rules and methods of jadal.160 157 Makdisi, Rise of Colleges, 136–37. Makdisi here bases his remarks on a report in Ibn al-Jawzì, al-MuntaΩam, 12:372. See also al-Nuwayrì, Nihàyat al-Arab, 22:351, where he reports that in this year the caliph forbade munàΩarahs and dialectical disputation ( jadal ) in matters of religion. 158 Makdisi, Rise of Colleges, 139. 159 Al-Ma'arrì, Luzùmu mà là yalzam, 3:1269, verses 5–6; trans. Nicholson, Studies in Islamic Poetry, 167. 160 See, for example, the last poem the poet is said to have composed, Dìwàn

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The contestants, each with untenable and baseless arguments, begin their debate. Arguments like empty glass vessels clash, then tumble; each is both shatterer and shattered. The slayer is slain, due to his feebleness, and he that would take prisoner is bound and shackled.161 [4]

In another poem, the poet boasts of his proficiency in the speculative sciences and rhetoric which enables him to discharge his duties on the speaker’s floor.162 In yet another poem, he speaks frankly of his own argumentative skills, the inferior skills of his opponents and the inability of the commonality to comprehend subtle arguments, in a poem that was cited by al-Mas'ùdì as further evidence of his knowledge of the sciences of the Ancients.163 The subtlety and elusiveness of Truth, when you attempt to defend it, diminishes the force of argument of the rightful defender of Truth. For the minds of men go astray in subtleties164 and they judge in favor of coarse arguments over refined ones. But Allah, the Creator of all things, discerns between him that misleads and him that speaks the truth. And I cease not to have opponents whose clumsy stupidity I meet with gentle tenderness.165 [5] Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 1598, 5:2048–52, where he bemoans the privation and unjust treatment he has been forced to suffer “even though [as he says in line 27] I am a man of knowledge, well versed in the methods of disputation (wa-in kuntu dhà 'ilmin wa-dhà jadalì ).” 161 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 899, 3:1139. 162 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 162, line 154, 1:222. The entire panel in which this line occurs is translated on page 524 below. 163 Al-Mas'ùdì (Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:283) introduces this poem, saying that “he evinces perfect subtlety in this refined conceit derived from the speculation practiced by the masters of dialectic and the adept ones of the Ancients (wa-mimmà daqqa fì-hi fa-a˙sana wa-dhahaba ilà ma"nà la†ìfin mina n-naΩari 'alà tartìbi l-jadaliyyìna wa†arìqati ˙udhdhàqi l-mutaqaddimìna qawluh. . . .).” 164 The notions and terminology involved in this hemistich remind one of the Mu'tazilite Abù Sa'ìd al-Sìràfì’s denunciation of the new Aristotelian logic as advocated by Abù Bishr Mattà ibn Yùnus, in the famous debate convened between them thirty-seven years after Ibn al-Rùmì’s death, in which the former declared that meaningful questions were “too subtle for their [Abù Bishr and his fellow logicians] intellects and minds (tadiqqu 'an 'uqùlihim wa-adhhànihim)” (al-Taw˙ìdì, al-Imtà' wa al-Mu"ànasah, 125; cited also by Muhsin Mahdi, “Language and Logic,” 82). The charge “too subtle for their minds” seems to have been bandied about freely by the practictioners of jadal. 165 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 1305, 4:1683–84.

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He is less gentle with another opponent whom he describes as a sand-grouse caught in the noose of the snare of his well-wrought arguments; the more he resists the more hopelessly he is entangled, and if he is still and quiet, he is surely caught.166 In another poem, Ibn al-Rùmì devotes twenty-three lines to a description of his patron’s acutely honed disputation skills,167 aided as the latter is in his speculation and investigation (al-ba˙th wa-lfa˙ß)168 by his penetrating mind (85), pursuing truths to the utmost end, never found at a loss for words (88), closely following his adversary’s logic and quick to spot inconsistencies in his arguments (90), with always a rightly disposed answer at hand (91), neither easily excited, nor too self-restrained (96), weighing his manner of proceeding, carefully advancing by degrees (97), in the end winning all to his cause (98).169 In the nasìb of yet another poem, he adduces as an argument in defense of his decision to travel to a new patron the fact that both are united in their 'Alid partisanship (39), and in their defending God’s unity in public debates ( fì l-maqàwim) (40), with knowledge and skill that admit of no doubt (41), and in their bringing their

166

Ibid., poem no. 1384, 5:1835. The poem is translated in Chapter 4–B.v.f of Part II of this study. The opponent here is Ibn Óurayth, a fellow Mu'tazilite whom Ibn al-Rùmì satirized on other occasions. 167 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 148, lines 81–103, 1:194–96. See the note on this patron in Chapter 2–E.i. 168 What Ibn al-Rùmì means by these two terms is not precisely clear, but it will be recalled that the poet’s younger contemporary Ibn Wahb al-Kàtib considered ba˙th a type of excercise similar to jadal (Ibn Wahb, al-Burhàn, 179; see also van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 25). It will be recalled also that al-Mas'ùdì (Murùj al-Dhahab, 3:379) described Ya˙yà ibn Khàlid al-Barmakì, the vizier whose salon was frequented by those given to speculative theology (ahl alkalàm), as “a man of 'ilm wa-ma'rifah wa-ba˙th wa-naΩar. Gabrieli translated the terms ba˙th wa-naΩar” as used by al- Mas'ùdì in this description as “philosophic inquiry and controversy” (Gabrieli, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Ba˙th”). According to De Boer and H. Daiber, the words ba˙th and fa˙ß were used as near synonyms, “with differing connotations,” for the term naΩar (De Boer and Daiber, Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “NaΩar”). Fa˙ß is a term Ibn al-Rùmì also used on a number of occasions when boasting of his own skills. It is also used by his friend Abù 'Uthmàn al-Nàjim when acknowledging the poet’s reasoning skills, and before proceeding to chastise him for some folly (Ibn Abì 'Awn, Kitàb al-Tashbìhàt, ed. M. 'Abdul Mu'ìd Khàn, E.J.W. Gibb Memorial Series, New Series, XVII [London: Cambridge University Press, 1950], 73–74). 169 It is interesting to compare these qualities and strategies with those delineated by Ibn Wahb in the lengthy section of his book on the “Manner (and Manners) of Disputation” (Ibn Wahb, al-Burhàn, 188–248).

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thought to bear on dubious issues “that defy even the shrewd and wily champions of the translated books (tu'yì duhàta t-taràjimì)” (42), spending long nights pondering their arguments and proofs (43) with which they “mutilate” the falsehoods of their adversaries (44).170 In the madì˙ section of another poem dedicated to this patron, the poet similarly praises the latter’s ability to demolish his opponents’ arguments, and “logically dispose” his own by offering definitions and divisions of the subject.171

2–D Passive Reception of the Hellenic Legacy vs. Active and Creative Appropriation In addition to the effect of Greek logic and its methods on the construction of a theology with which to defend Islam against Christian, Jewish and Manichean polemics, and the religious polemics of the various Islamic sects, there have been convincing arguments advanced that the impress of Greek logic may also be discerned in the “scholasticizing” of the law, and the development of the doctrine of language,172 and the principles of literary criticism. It has been suggested too that its impress is discernible in the progressive rationalization manifest in the codification, classification, and organization of materials in diverse fields, e.g., in the alphabetical arrangement of biographies, and the arrangement by topics of Prophetic Traditions,173 and in “the definitions of legal authority and of the scope of the law, its implementation case by case, the attuning of economic practice to the legal norm (or, more often than not, the reverse), the ordering of aesthetic experience, the assessing of man’s ability to construct a systematic picture of his universe and, again, the implementation of the aspiration behind this judgment. . . .”174 170 171

Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 11972 (1677), lines 39–44, 6:2269. Ibid., poem no. 1296, lines 43, 116, 118–20, 4:1672, 1676–77. See esp. line

120. 172 According to Versteegh, there is a definite resemblance between the methods and arguments of the Arab and Greek grammarians, “above all in the use of logical terms in grammatical debates and the use of dialectical methods” (Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 116). He also enumerates some of the grammatical points which the two grammars share (ibid., 116). 173 Von Grunebaum, “The Problem of Cultural Influence,” 93. 174 Von Grunebaum, “Introduction,” Logic in Classical Islamic Culture, ed. von Grunebaum (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1970), 6.

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One must naturally be wary of the dangers of both reductionism and precursorism when discussing the influence of one culture upon another, and it would thus be helpful here to make use of A. Sabra’s distinction between passive reception and active appropriation.175 As Sabra notes, all too often scholars have tended to categorize the medieval Islamic period as a period of “reception, preservation and transmission” of the Greek sciences, and to think of medieval Islamic civilization as a “receptacle or repository of Greek learning,” words which clearly connote a passive involvement in the process.176 Sabra argues that the transmission would better be characterized as an act of appropriation performed by the so-called receiver. Greek science was not thrust upon Muslim society any more than it was later upon Renaissance Europe. What the Muslims of the eighth and ninth centuries did was to seek out, take hold of and finally make their own a legacy which appeared to them laden with a variety of practical and spiritual benefits. And in so doing they succeeded in initiating a new scientific tradition in a new language that was to dominate the intellectual culture of a large part of the world for a long period of time. ‘Reception’ is, at best, a pale description of that enormously creative act.177

The word “active appropriation” more properly characterizes the way in which the Greek philosophical and natural sciences were taken over and naturalized in Arab soil, a process in which Islam and Greece were brought together “in a consciously creative act.”178 This “‘productive assimilation’ of Greek thought” is yet one more example of the historical process of the “continuous shaping of new ‘Forms’ out of existing ‘Matter’.”179 One need not look further than al-Jà˙iΩ (d. 255/869), another earlier contemporary of Ibn al-Rùmì with whose works the poet was certainly familiar,180 for such evi175 Gutas finds the term appropriation “surreptitiously servile” and prefers to refer to the Graeco-Arabic translation movement as a “creation of early 'Abbàsid society and its incipient Arabic scientific and philosophical tradition” (Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 187 n. 1). 176 Curiously, scholars have tended to celebrate Western Europe’s appropriation of the Hellenistic legacy while denigrating the Islamic absorption of the same material. 177 Sabra, “Appropriation,” 225–26. 178 Rosenthal, Classical Heritage, 12. 179 Walzer, Greek into Arabic, 11. 180 In a poem addressed to al-Óasan, son of the vizier 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn, Ibn al-Rùmì compares his poetic abilities to those of the poet al-Akh†al, and his abilities in prose to those of the littérateur and polymath al-Jà˙iΩ (Dìwàn Ibn alRùmì, poem no. 1109, line 36, 4:1455). See note 24 in Chapter 1–A of Part II.

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dence of active and creative appropriation, for in his al-Bayàn waal-Tabyìn he quotes the “Originator, or Master, of Logic” (Íà˙ib alman†iq), undoubtedly Aristotle, in numerous places. Even more frequently does he do so in his al-Óayawàn, in which one also finds references to Plato, Ptolemy, Democritus and Euclid, as well as observations on the process of translation and a discussion of the difficulties faced by the translators of the Greek masters, among them Ibn alBa†rìq (d. ca. 215/830), Ibn Nà'imah (d. ca. 225/840), Ibn Qurrah (d. 288/901), Ibn al-Bahrìz (fl. during the reign of al-Ma"mùn), Ibn al-Muqaffa' (d. 140–42/757–59), and others, and criticism of their methods and inadequacies as translators.181 More importantly, in this book one also finds perhaps the most eloquent defense of rationalism and its spirit of enquiry, in large part, it is argued, bequeathed by Hellenistic civilization, in the author’s numerous references to the purpose of knowledge and of reasoning. He frequently declares it man’s sacred duty to use his God-given reason and powers of inference and deduction (al-istidlàl)182 in order to recognize His signs on earth, which are wondrous and manifold,183 and reprimands those who are satisfied with the knowledge provided by their senses, and who “fail to delve deeply after the hidden, or transcendent causes or reasons (wa lam yaghùßù 'alà mughayyabàti l-'ilal ),”184 for man is endowed with two arbiters with which he might interpret things, the external faculty of the senses and the internal one of the intellect, “and the intellect is the competent authority (al-'aqlu huwa al-˙ujjah).”185 The numerous passages such as these constitute a clear manifesto of that “natural theology” provided by Greek philosophy, i.e., a theory of the divine as revealed in the nature of reality and as accessible to human reason.186

181

Al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 1:75–79. Van Ess contends that the terms dalìl (evidence), dalàlah (the structure of the cumulative evidence) and istidlàl (the drawing of inferences from things indicated by that evidence)—which al-Jà˙iΩ is fond of using—are exact translations, with all their implications, of terms from Stoic logic. See his disussions of these terms in his article “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 26–29. 183 An excellent example is Al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn, 2:109–110. 184 Ibid., 5:35. 185 Ibid., 1:207. See also ibid., 1:209, where he refers to the need to “delve deeply after the meanings” of natural phenomena. As will be noted in due time, this notion of “delving deeply” becomes a byword for Ibn al-Rùmì’s (and Abù Tammàm’s) poetic style. 186 That God’s existence “can not only be explained by reason and argument, 182

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Finally, in his description of the ideal Mutakallim one finds clear confirmation of the Arab appropriation of the Greek philosophical sciences, which are to be put to the service of theology: The Mutakallim will not be considered truly versed in all the various aspects of dialectic theology (kalàm), nor truly proficient in his vocation, nor suitable for leadership until he has mastered the dialectics of theology in the manner of one who has mastered the dialectics of philosophy (˙attà yakùnu ’l-ladhì yu˙sinu min kalàmi d-dìni fì wazni ’l-ladhì yu˙sinu min kalàmi l-falsafah). The true scholar is he who combines both disciplines.187

Describing “the process of naturalization” by which the imported Greek sciences became naturalized in Muslim soil A.I. Sabra writes: Greek science entered the world of Islam, not as an invading force setting off from a powerful stronghold in Alexandria, Antioch or Harràn, but rather as an invited guest. The individuals who brought him in kept their reserve and aloofness with regard to the important matter of religion. But the guest quickly proved to hold an attraction for his hosts far beyond the promise of his practical abilities. His power of persuasion can be seen in the unexpected but almost immediate and almost unreserved adoption of Hellenism by Muslim members of the household, like al-Kindì.188

Having now established the reasons for the interest of 2nd/8th and 3rd/9th century Islamic civilization in the Hellenistic legacy, the degree of “permeability” of this “receiving” culture generally and some aspects of the scope of the influence, it remains for us now to look at the specific milieu in which Ibn al-Rùmì lived and worked, for not all quarters of 'Abbàsid society were so kindly disposed to this “invited guest.” A˙mad ibn Óanbal (d. 241/855), for example, distrusted all speculative theology (kalàm), even apologetic, and met all questions with “Don’t ask ‘How?’ (bi-là kayf ).” He excluded the

but that it can also be scientifically demonstrated, is a conviction found throughout Greek philosophy, with the exception of the radical Sceptics. . . .” (Walzer, Greek into Arabic, 8). 187 Al-Jà˙iΩ, al-Óayawàn 2:134. 188 Sabra, “Appropriation,” 236. The choice of the phrase “invited guest” to designate the role of Greek science in the Islamic world obviously cannot be intended to convey any sense of its having come from the outside world, because geographically much of the Hellenistic world very early became an integral part of the AraboIslamic world. The phrase would seem to be intended more to suggest the fact that the Islamic world actively welcomed the culturally extraneous Hellenistic legacy.

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practitioner of kalàm, the Mutakallim, from Ahl al-Sunnah and forbade his followers from sitting with them, even though they defended the Sunnah. According to one report, Ibn Óanbal shunned the ascetic and Sufi al-Mu˙àsibì simply for his having engaged in kalàm.189 As for Ibn al-Rùmì, it has already been established that he participated in munàΩarahs on theological, literary and grammatical issues of concern to him and to his contemporaries. Given the extreme paucity, however, of extant historical materials that treat the poet’s education, career, friends, etc., it will be necessary to examine the interests of his patrons in the hope that such an investigation of the circumstantial evidence will help determine the likely extent of the poet’s involvement in the intellectual culture of his age, and the direction of that involvement. In Part II of this study, the themes and stylistics of his poetry with be investigated, for it is chiefly here that the evidence is most convincing.

2–E The Immediate Literary and Intellectual Environment 2–E.i

The Patrons

In his study of Ibn al-Rùmì’s life and oeuvre, Sa'ìd Boustany contends that for the last seven years of his life Ibn al-Rùmì was actually “un poète officiel, le poète de la cour” of the caliph al-Mu'ta∂id.190 189 Christopher Melchert, “The Adversaries of A˙mad Ibn Óanbal,” Arabica 44 (1997): 243. 190 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 138–40. Gruendler, following Boustany, asserts that the poet “enjoyed the honors of an official court poet” with this caliph (Gruendler, Patron’s Redemption, 46). According to Boustany, Ibn al-Rùmì dedicated 24 poems to this patron, “évinçant son grand rival Bu˙turì qui ne dédia à Mu'ta∂id qu’un seul poème et qui ne tarda pas à quitter l’Iraq pour aller finir ses jours en Syrie” (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 138). Boustany bases his contention that Ibn al-Rùmì was an official court poet in this caliph’s entourage for a full seven years on the fact that the poet dedicated seven 'Ìd al-Fi†r felicitations to this caliph, maintaining that it is not likely that he would compose more than one poem on each occasion (ibid.). The general thrust of Boustany’s argument may be true, as it certainly appears from a number of his poems that the poet was present at this caliph’s court, composing 'Ìd felicitations, poems commemorating the caliph’s marriage to the daughter of Ibn ˇùlùn and describing the festivities, and later, others commemorating the birth of a son. Other poems suggest that he was present at “séance[s] de chant et de boisson” (ibid., 139) at the court during the 'Ìd festivities (e.g. Dìwàn Ibn alRùmì, poem no. 485, 2:669). However, Boustany bases his argument primarily on poem no. 617 (ibid., 2:789–91), “le poème qui éclaire le mieux les relations du

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Of the latter it is known that he was “cultivé et poète lui-même,”191 and although historians attest to his avarice and ruthlessness,192 he is nonetheless also known for having supported the work of numerous scholars and is even said to have known Greek.193 He is also reported to have been the first to consider construction of a vast Islamic university and adjoining campus.194 This assertion is perhaps based on a report in al-Maqrìzì according to which this caliph sought an extension of the palace-compound in order “to construct houses, residences and palaces, to be allocated to the heads of every craft and discipline among the practical and theoretical sciences, who were to be subsidized with handsome salaries, so that anyone desiring knowledge in any field of his choice might find a specialist therein and learn from him.”195 It has been suggested that in this way al-

poète avec le calife,” (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 139) a poem composed to commemorate the caliph’s victory over Mu˙ammad ibn A˙mad ibn 'Ìsà ibn al-Shaykh, the master of Àmid. The seige and conquest of the city, however, took place in 286/899 (al-ˇabarì, History of al-ˇabarì, vol. XXXVIII, The Return of the Caliphate to Baghdad, trans. Franz Rosenthal [Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1985], 73, 75–76), i.e., three years after the latest date proposed in the sources for Ibn al-Rùmì’s death. The poem in question comprises numerous details concerning this campaign which Ibn al-Rùmì could not have known. It is also quite short by Ibn al-Rùmì’s standards (52 lines), and evinces little of the poet’s penchant for “originating wondrous conceits (ikhtirà' al-ma'ànì)” or “relentless pursuit of his motifs (istiqßà" al-ma'ànì),” and would thus seem to be falsely attributed. 191 Ibn al-Athìr, al-Kàmil, 7:169; cited and trans. by Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 137. 192 See, for example, al-Mas'ùdì’s account of the vaulted subterranean cellars or dungeons (ma†àmìr) he had appropriated from their owners without recompense (Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:281) for use as torture chambers for his state prisoners (ibid., 4: 276; see also Le Strange, Baghdad during the Abbasid Caliphate, 252). For graphic accounts of the different types of torture inflicted on the “enemies of state,” presumably in these dungeons, see al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:233. For accounts of his extreme avarice and miserliness, see ibid., 4:232. Of him Khafàjì writes (Khafàjì, Ibn al-Mu'tazz, 50) that he was “clever, intelligent and learned (wa kàna l-Mu'ta∂idu shahman 'àqilan fà∂ilan), a powerful ruler who treated the corrupt harshly, and was miserly and bloodthirsty (wa kàna bakhìlan, saffàkan li-l-dimà").” 193 Al-Íàbi’ relates an anecdote (Abù al-Óusayn Hilàl al-Íàbi", Rusùm Dàr alKhilàfah, ed. Mìkhà"ìl 'Awwàd, 2nd ed. [Beirut: Dàr al-Rà"id al-'Arabì, 1986], 88– 89) in which Thàbit ibn Qurrah surprised al-Mu'ta∂id by suddenly withdrawing from his presence, though they were engaged in conversation. When questioned by the caliph, Thàbit explained that he had done so in order not to overhear a secret concerning his harem that a Byzantine servant had come to confide to him in Greek (bi-l-rùmiyyah). 194 Khafàjì, Ibn al-Mu'tazz, 50. 195 Al-Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-Mawà'iΩ wa-l-I'tibàr bi-Dhikr al-Khi†a† wa-l-Àthàr, 2 vols. (Cairo: Mu"assasat al-Óalabì wa-Shurakàhu li-l-Nashr wa-l-Tawzì', n.d.), 2:362–63; cited also by A˙mad Amìn, Îu˙à al-Islàm, 2:49. See also A.S. Tritton, Materials on Muslim Education in the Middle Ages (London: Luzac, 1957), 99.

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Mu'ta∂id sought to revive the “vanished tradition” of the Bayt alÓikmah.196 If this academy was actually completed, it would thus have been the first of its kind in Islamic history, predating the institution of al-Azhar, but it is possible that it was among the projects whose building al-Mu'ta∂id countermanded.197 The reader is reminded that during this caliph’s reign also (279–290/892–902), according to the contemporary authority al-Mas'ùdì, the Alexandrian philosophical school was transferred to Baghdad from Óarràn.198 Is˙àq ibn Óunayn (d. 297 or 298/910 or 911), who was “more inclined to philosophy” than his illustrious father,199 and whose translations were crucial for the development of logical studies, was in great favor with this caliph.200 Thàbit ibn Qurrah (d. 288/901), an important collaborator of Óunayn who was recruited from the Íàbian community in Óarràn, and who was one of the first to write epitomes and commentaries in Arabic of logical works which served as a basis for logical studies,201 in addition to his numerous works in other fields,202 also found a patron in al-Mu'ta∂id, and soon became a personal friend and table companion.203 Thàbit is even supposed to have written a biography of this caliph which was transmitted in his family, 196 S. Boustany, “Ibn al-Rùmì.” Sourdel asserts that the institution itself appears not to have survived the reversals suffered with the orthodox reaction of the caliph al-Mutawakkil (Dominique Sourdel, Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed., s.v. “Bayt alÓikma”). 197 Le Strange, Baghdad during the Abbasid Caliphate, 251. 198 See Chapter 2–Bi of Part 1, note 21. 199 Al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 118 (wa-kàna nafsuhu amyala ilà l-falsafah). Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah also comments that his translations of medical works were relatively few when compared with his translations of Aristotle’s philosophical works, and the commentaries written on them (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:146, 165). 200 Rescher, Development, 111. 201 Ibid., 29 and 108–09. 202 Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah reports that he composed epistles on music and the nature of the soul, and others on numerous and diverse subjects dedicated to some of Ibn al-Rùmì’s more important patrons, such as Abù Sahl al-Nawbakhtì, 'Alì ibn Ya˙yà al-Munajjim (on music), Ismà'ìl ibn Bulbul (on geometry), the vizier Abù al-Qàsim 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn (on medicine), and the caliph al-Mu'ta∂id (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:197–201). 203 Al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 81; Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:194, Hitti, History of the Arabs, 314. Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah relates several anecdotes illustrating the closeness of Thàbit ibn Qurrah’s relationship with al-Mu'ta∂id (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:194–96). This familiarity was perhaps the result of the regular visits Thàbit paid him when the latter was imprisoned in the house of Ismà'ìl ibn Bulbul by order of his father al-Muwaffaq, “in order to converse with him and amuse him, and acquaint him with matters of the philosophers, and of geometry and astrology” (ibid., 194).

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but which is not extant.204 Al-Kindì’s illustrious pupil, the philosopher A˙mad ibn al-ˇayyib al-Sarakhsì205 (executed in 283/896),206 was appointed to the position of tutor to al-Mu'ta∂id when the latter was a boy of about 15 years of age, a position presumably procured through al-Kindì’s connections with the court,207 and later, upon the prince’s accession to the caliphate, he became the caliph’s nadìm (boon-companion, advisor and close confidant), a very influential position in which al-Mu'ta∂id “confided his secrets to him and consulted him on matters of state.”208 Although the evidence is circumstantial and inconclusive, it certainly seems possible, if not likely, that Ibn al-Rùmì, as a court poet in the entourage of the caliph alMu'ta∂id who so actively promoted the study of the Greek sciences, would have been acquainted with some of the translators of, and commentators on, the Greek philosophical and logical treatises. It seems even more likely that he would have been acquainted with other scholars who found favor with this caliph and were also present at his court. In addition to the caliphal court, one may safely assume that the courts of other patrons of the poet who likewise took an interest in these “foreign sciences” would have provided similar opportunities for debate, discussion and intellectual exchange. An example is the illustrious Wahb family of secretaries, viziers and scholars. The previously mentioned Is˙àq ibn Óunayn was personal physician to alQàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb (d. 291/904) and was his intimate friend,209 and from him al-Qàsim commissioned a 204

Al-ˇabarì, The History of al-ˇabarì, 38:xiv. Al-Mas'ùdì wrote of him that “his eminent position in philosophy is acknowledged by all. He wrote excellent books in various fields of philosophy and numerous branches of history” (al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, 4:259). Íà'id al-Andalusì reports that he was “well-versed in the different fields of philosophy and composed important works on music, logic and other fields” (Íà'id al-Andalusì, ˇabaqàt alUmam, 72), and Yàqùt praises his discernment in the philosophical sciences (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 3:98). Indeed, al-Sarakhsì composed twenty-one works on philosophical subjects, including epitomes of the Isagoge, Categoriae, De Interpretatione, Analytica Priora, Analytica Posteriora, and Sophistici Elenchi (Rosenthal, As-Sarakhsì, 54–58; see also Makdisi, The Rise of Humanism, 249). 206 Ibn al-Nadìm reports that al-Qàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh, after having imprisoned al-Sarakhsì in one of the caliph’s subterranean cellars (ma†àmìr), had him executed through a ruse (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 320–21). 207 Rosenthal, As-Sarakhsì, 18–19. 208 Al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 320; al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 55; Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:191. 209 Al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 356 (wa-kàna munqa†i'an ilà ’l-Qàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh wa205

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translation of Aristotle’s Physica, and a brief history of Greek medicine.210 Ibn al-Rùmì too was an intimate companion of this secretary-poet,211 son of a vizier and deputy vizier in his father’s absence (and later, immensely powerful vizier to the caliphs al-Mu'ta∂id and al-Muktafì) and enjoyed his constant company,212 while the latter was Ibn al-Rùmì’s principal patron, to whom he dedicated the largest number of poems in his dìwàn.213 Al-Qàsim was fond of attending the scholarly conventicles of the learned of his day,214 and he had his own “elegant” salon, as Ibn al-Rùmì describes it,215 which was frequented by poets, grammarians, physicians and other prominent scholars.216 Al-Qàsim was also known for his many less formal, convivial gatherings (majàlis al-uns, majàlis al-sharàb) for the purpose of literary, musical and libationary entertainment,217 which were attended by his boon-companions and many of the finest singers of his day.218

khaßìßan bi-hi wa-muqaddaman 'indahu yuf∂ì ilayhi bi-asràrih); Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah and alQif†ì repeat this description verbatim (ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:165–66; Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 57). See also Rescher, Development, 111. 210 Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 131. The translator of the Fihrist mentions in passing that al-Qàsim “translated the Categories of Aristotle” (The Fihrist of alNadìm, ed. and trans. Bayard Dodge, 2 vols. [New York and London: Columbia University Press, 1970], 1:1078), but provides no substantiation for this rather curious assertion. 211 See al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 193. 212 Ibn Rashìq, al-'Umdah, 1:56 (kàna mulàziman li-Abì al-Óusayn al-Qàsim ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb makhßùßan bih). See also al-Marzubànì, Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128, and al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì, Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, 12:23. The report preserved in the last source makes it seem as if the poet even accompanied al-Qàsim on his outings on horseback. Ibn al-Rùmì ultimately became estranged from al-Qàsim, about the end of 281/894 or early in 282/895 (Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 36). His poetry dedicated to this patron runs the full gamut of praise (madì˙), complaint (shakwà) and admonition ('itàb), apology (i'tidhàr) and virulent satire (hijà"). Boustany asserts that the poems of apology Ibn al-Rùmì dedicated to al-Qàsim are some of the few in the poet’s oeuvre in which the poet’s “moi” is truly discernable. He is particularly appreciative of the “spontaneity, sensitivity, naturalness and clarity” by which they are characterized, and which make Ibn al-Rùmì “a veritable precursor of Abù Firàs al-Óamdànì in his ‘Rùmiyyàt ’” (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 338). 213 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 176. Boustany gives the number of poems dedicated to this patron as 120, with a total of 3436 verses. 214 Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 5:114–15. 215 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 26, line 40, 1:82. 216 Al-Sàmarrà"ì, Àl Wahb, 341. Ibn al-Rùmì gives us the names of some of the scholars and those of his intimates who attended his majlis. See Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 770, lines 73–82, 3:1018–19, and ibid., poem no. 26, line 35, 1:82. 217 Al-Sàmarrà"ì, Àl Wahb, 341, 347, 350, 368. 218 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 179. Ibn al-Rùmì was very fond of participating in these “soirées” (ibid.).

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Ibn al-Rùmì also dedicated a number of poems to al-Qàsim’s brother, al-Óasan ibn 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulaymàn. Al-Óasan was learned, eminent in the field of geometry and had written a commentary on Euclid,219 and although the number of poems addressed to this patron is not large, some are very elaborate, and it would seem that for some time the two must have been extremely close friends.220 This may be inferred from, among other things, the poet’s intercession with al-Óasan’s father, the vizier 'Ubayd Allàh ibn Sulayman, on the former’s behalf, urging the vizier, in a poem, not to fail to recognize the claims of his son to advancement. This last poem is an excellent example of Ibn al-Rùmì’s disputational skills clothed in poetic garb; the argument is extended over 52 lines and concludes with a six-line exhortation to the vizier that he “follow reason.”221 In addition, a very elaborate 23-line tableau of another poem dedicated to al-Óasan ibn 'Ubayd Allàh is devoted to a description of this patron’s debating skills.222 Although not actually a patron of Ibn al-Rùmì, mention should also be made of al-Qàsim’s cousin (ibn 'amm),223 Is˙àq ibn Ibràhìm ibn Sulaymàn ibn Wahb, author of the rhetorical treatise al-Burhàn fì Wujùh al-Bayàn,224 a work in which the extensive adaptation of Aristotelian notions is remarkable.225 Another important patron was Abù 'Ìsà al-'Alà" ibn Íà'id, son of the vizier Íà'id ibn Makhlad. Abù 'Ìsà was a man with public employment of considerable importance226 with whom Ibn al-Rùmì was

219

Al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr al-Óukamà", 113. Al-Marzubànì, Mu'jam al-Shu'arà", 128; Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 33. 221 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 540, lines 74–125, 2:711–13. 222 Ibid., poem no. 148, lines 81–103, 1:194–96. See the paraphrase of this tableau in Chapter 2–C of Part I. It is the fifth of the seven poems translated or paraphrased which provide portraits of disputants, including the poet and several of his patrons, engaging in disputations. 223 Ibn Wahb, al-Burhàn, 31; al-Sàmarrà"ì, Àl Wahb, 376. 224 This treatise was formerly referred to as Naqd al-Nathr and attributed to Qudàmah ibn Ja'far. See Óifnì Mu˙ammad Sharaf ’s summary of the history of the controversy that erupted with the book’s initial publication in 1930, concerning its attribution and date of composition, in his introduction to his edition of the book (Ibn Wahb, al-Burhàn, 1–25). 225 Although van Ess believes “a direct and thorough knowledge of the Organon . . . seems improbable,” one finds the Aristotelian categories, the division of the propositions into universal and particular ones,” quotations from Aristotle’s Kitàb al-Jadal (Topica), and praise for the philosopher because of his conciseness (Van Ess, “The Logical Structure of Islamic Theology,” 32 n57). See also G. Bohas, J.P. Guillaume and D.E. Kouloughli, The Arabic Linguistic Tradition (London: Routledge, 1990), 107–8. 226 In an anecdote preserved by al-Àbì, al-'Alà" personally accompanies al-Mu'ta∂id 220

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associated for perhaps as long as ten years.227 From indications in the poet’s dìwàn, it is known that he pursued the study of philosophy, astronomy and astrology.228 Ibn al-Rùmì also tells us that Abù 'Ìsà had a “splendid salon (nàdin bahìy)” that was well-known, and in which serious philosophical and scientific discussions were combined with occasional funmaking.229 Ibn al-Rùmì was associated for a very long period with 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn ˇàhir,230 a highly cultured man and a generous patron of the humanists,231 with whom the translator Thàbit ibn Qurrah232 and the philosopher A˙mad ibn al-ˇayyib al-Sarakhsì233

in a procession through the markets and streets of Baghdad when the head of the defeated Zanj leader is displayed to the masses. When al-Mu'ta∂id contemplates burning a neighbourhood of the city because of the ungratefulness of some of its inhabitants, al-'Alà" advises him against such a rash action and his advice is accepted (Abù Sa'd Manßùr al-Àbì, Nathr al-Durr, ed. Mu˙ammad 'Alì Qurnah, 'Alì Mu˙ammad al-Bijàwì, Óusayn Naßßàr et al., 7 vols. [Cairo: al-Hay"ah al-Mißriyyah al-'Àmmah li-l-Kitàb, 1981–90], 3:138). 227 In the nasìb section of one of the first qaßìdahs he dedicated to this patron, Ibn al-Rùmì refers to himself as a man past forty, suggesting a date sometime after 261/874–75 (see Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 1091, line 19, 4:1425). Gruendler dates the beginning of their relationship to that year (Gruendler, Patron’s Redemption, 45), presumably basing herself on line 19 of this poem, although she somewhat later dates this poem to 269/882–83 (ibid.). In lines 25–26 of the poem, however, the poet refers to Abù 'Ìsà’s father as a “skilful secretary (huwa ’l-kàtibu ’n-ni˙rìru)” in the service of al-Muwaffaq. According to al-ˇabarì, Íà'id was only appointed secretary to al-Muwaffaq in the year 265/878–79 (al-ˇabarì, The History of al-ˇabarì, 36: 203). Whatever the truth is concerning the date of the beginning of their relationship, it seems to have lasted until Íà'id, his brother and sons, including al-'Alà", were arrested, imprisoned and their wealth confiscated in the year 272/885–86. 228 See, for example, Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 987, lines 70–78, 3:1213. See also Chapter 1 of Part II, n. 349. Ibn al-Rùmì calls him more than once “˙akìm” (see, for example, ibid., poem no. 444, line 239, 2:600, and ibid., poem no. 1091, line 32, 4:1426). This might be translated as sage, but the term ˙akìm is also commonly used for philosophers and physicians, as in Ibn al-Qif†ì’s work Akhbàr al'Ulamà" bi-Akhbàr al-Óukamà". 229 Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 1091, lines 45–46, 4:1427. 230 See Beatrice Gruendler’s previously mentioned work, The Patron’s Redemption, for a thorough and insightful study of the praise poetry Ibn al-Rùmì addressed to this important patron. 231 Makdisi, The Rise of Humanism, 235. 232 Al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 9:59–60. 233 Rosenthal, As-Sarakhsì, 24, 103–04 n234, 115–16; al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 9:59–60. Interestingly, Ibn al-Mu'tazz, in his Fußùl al-Tamàthìl, describes a gathering in the presence of the caliph al-Mu'ta∂id, in which the latter questions in turn 'Ubayd Allàh, one Ibn Óamdùn (another nadìm), al-Sarakhsì and Ibn al-Mu'tazz about the meaning of some verses of Abù Nuwàs (cited by Rosenthal, as-Sarakhsì, 115–6).

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are known to have had relations, and who is said to have had standing in numerous fields, including “the sciences of the ancient philosophers, music and geometry and others too great and numerous to be described in full here.”234 Ibn al-Rùmì dedicated the third largest number of poems in his dìwàn to 'Ubayd Allàh and their relationship spanned at least twenty-three years,235 possibly as many as thirty years.236 Gruendler describes him as “the closest and poetically most stimulating partner” of the poet’s numerous patrons237 and Boustany similarly comments that “son amitié pour Ibn ar-Rùmì fut solide et durable” and “son influence sur sa production fut une des plus profondes.”238 Ibn al-Rùmì also had relations with 'Ubayd Allàh’s brother, Mu˙ammad ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn ˇàhir, whom 'Ubayd Allàh succeeded as governor of Baghdad upon his death in 253/867. The poet’s poetic relationship with this powerful ˇàhirid spanned the full circuit of madì˙, 'itàb and most vitriolic hijà", but concluded with two elegies after his death. This patron was “a man who accepted of the sciences only what was established as true (kàna . . . rajulan là yaqbalu min al-'ulùmi illà ˙aqà"iqahà),”239 and “he would bring together the learned from Basrah and Kufah for scholarly disputations (li-lmunàΩarah).”240 Ibn al-Rùmì was also associated with the Banù al-Munajjim, a family of intellectuals that traced its ancestry to ministers of Sasanian royalty. They were widely celebrated for their culture and repeatedly patronized the translation movement over the more than six generations that they held influential positions under the 'Abbàsid caliphs.241 They were also widely renowned for their steadfast sup234

Al-Ißbahànì, al-Aghànì, 9:40; Khafàjì, Ibn al-Mu'tazz, 42. Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 147 n5. Gruendler enumerates 64 poems in 2373 verses dedicated to this patron (Gruendler, The Patron’s Redemption, 44). 236 Guest contends that their acquaintance lasted “thirty years or more” (Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 12). 237 Gruendler, The Patron’s Redemption, 43. 238 Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 146. 239 Al-Zajjàjì, Majàlis al-'Ulamà", 94. 240 A˙mad Amìn, Îu˙à al-Islàm, 2:56–57. See al-Zajjàjì, Majàlis al-'Ulamà", 79–80, 84–85, 86–87, 91, 94–97, 98–99, for descriptions of his sessions attended by some of the most eminent scholars of his day, including particularly the grammarians Tha'lab and al-Mubarrad. See also al-Qif†ì, Inbàh al-Ruwàh, 1:140–41, for a description of another such session also attended by Mu˙ammad’s brother, Ibn al-Rùmì’s very important patron 'Ubayd Allàh ibn 'Abd Allàh ibn ˇàhir, which, if historically accurate, provides an important insight into the character of the two ˇàhirid brothers. 241 See note 47 in Chapter 2–B.i of Part I. 235

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port of Mu"tazilite doctrine.242 'Alì ibn Ya˙yà al-Munajjim, whom the poet addressed in over thirty poems, including his longest,243 and with whom he seems to have remained in contact and on good terms until the former’s death in 275/888–9,244 was the boon companion of all the caliphs from al-Mutawakkil to al-Mu'tamid, except al-Muhtadì,245 “a poet, a man of science and historian, one fond of learning in all its branches,246 . . . [and] the owner of a library at Karkar near Baghdad open to students and resorted to by people from distant parts,”247 including the poet Ibn al-Rùmì.248 He was also a generous patron of learned men, commissioned numerous translations,249 including

242

Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 216. Many of these poems are quite short felicitations, but they include also the longest poem in the poet’s dìwàn, an elaborate piece of panegyric in 337 lines (Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 1600, 5:2054–70). According to Boustany, this poem may be the longest qaßìdah in the Arabic tradition (Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 320–21; see also Chapter 4–B.iii, note 39). 244 Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 17–18; Boustany, Ibn ar-Rùmì, 218–20. 'Alì ibn Ya˙yà was a Mu'tazilite, a Shiite, and a mawlà (his father Abù 'Alì Ya˙yà converted to Islam before the caliph al-Ma"mùn), of Persian descent on his father’s side and Byzantine on his mother’s, and Boustany conjectures that these facts, in addition to his qualities as a learned and generous patron, may have further endeared him to Ibn al-Rùmì (ibid.). 245 Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-Udabà", 15:144, 174. 246 Yàqùt preserves an amusing vignette originally reported by Ja˙Ωah in his alAmàlì in which 'Alì ibn Ya˙yà is shown preparing refreshments and a delicious impromptu meal for the caliph al-Mutawakkil and selecting the appropriate wines for the occasion, and then, after all had finished eating and the musicians had begun to play, attributing the lyrics and melodies of the songs to the correct poets and composers respectively and even singing himself with a fine voice. Finally, near the end of the day and in response to the caliph’s query as to the time, he takes a silver astrolab from his boot and measures the sun’s postition in order to determine the time for the next prayer (Ibid., 15:160–63). 247 Guest, Ibn Er Rûmî, 17. Yàqùt reports (Mu'jam al-Udabà", 15:157) that this library, known as Khizànat al-Óikmah, was very large, was located on 'Alì’s estate and that all expenditures for its upkeep were borne by 'Alì himself. He also reports that the famous astronomer Abù Ma'shar knew very little of astronomy when he happened to visit the library on his way from Khuràsàn to Mecca for the pilgrimage, but was so impressed with its holdings that he gave up all thought of his journey and busied himself with the study of astronomy and became deeply rooted in it till he lost his faith (wa a'raqa fìhi ˙attà al˙ad ). 248 See Dìwàn Ibn al-Rùmì, poem no. 176, 1:244–45. In this eight-line poem, Ibn al-Rùmì describes a visit he paid to this patron at his home on his estate during the month of Rama∂àn, during which he enjoyed his good company and had the opportunity to look through his collection of books in his vast library (see esp. lines 3–4). 249 The reader is reminded that Thàbit ibn Qurrah dedicated an epistle on music to this patron (See Chapter 2–E.i of Part 1, note 202). Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah reports that he commissioned a translation of a section of Galen’s treatise on simple (as 243

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Óunayn’s famous epistle, Kitàb Istikhràj Kammiyyat Kutub Gàlìnùs,250 and had a distinguished salon attended by numerous scholars and poets.251 'Alì’s son, Ya˙yà ibn 'Alì al-Munajjim, also a patron of Ibn al-Rùmì, had relations with Óunayn ibn Is˙àq and Qus†à ibn Lùqà and is reported to have sent them what he styled “a geometrical proof (burhàn handasì )” of the veracity of Islam and of the prophethood of Mu˙ammad.252 He was a Mu'tazilite, and personally directed a majlis in which theological issues were discussed,253 and which was considered one of the most important in Baghdad, attended by all the major dialectic theologians of the period.254 The distinguished Banù Nawbakht also promoted learning, and the most influential and powerful member of this family during the latter part of the 3rd/9th century, Abù Sahl Ismà'ìl ibn 'Alì alNawbakhtì (d. 311/923), was a very important patron of the poet.255 Indeed, al-'Aqqàd asserts that the fraternity the poet enjoyed with

opposed to compounded) remedies from Óunayn (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt alA†ibbà", 2:162). 250 Ibn al-Nadìm mentions this epistle, but says only that Óunayn dedicated it to Ibn al-Munajjim (al-Nadìm, al-Fihrist, 353). Al-Qif†ì too mentions the work, but also says only that Óunayn dedicated it to Ibn al-Munajjim (al-Qif†ì, Akhbàr alÓukamà", 120). Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah does not give the title of the epistle, but describes its contents and explicitly mentions that Óunayn dedicated it to 'Alì ibn Ya˙yà ibn al-Munajjim (Ibn Abì Ußaybi'ah, ˇabaqàt al-A†ibbà", 2:162). Manfred Ullmann (Islamic Medicine [Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1978], 9) and Gutas (Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 128), both assert that it was 'Alì ibn Ya˙yà who commissioned this important epistle from Óunayn. In this work, Óunayn provides an extremely important inventory of the translations of Galen, enumerating 129 works, sketching their scope and content, and naming those people who had translated them into Syriac or Arabic. In the equally famous introduction to this epistle, he explains the method he has followed in translation (Ullmann, Islamic Medicine, 9). 251 See note 313 below. 252 Khalil Samir and Paul Nwyia, Une correspondance islamo-chrétienne entre Ibn alMuna