Memoirs of a Mission: The Ismaili Scholar, Statesman and Poet al-Muʾayyad fi’l-Dīn al-Shīrāzī 9780755612437, 9780857714688

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The Institute of Ismaili Studies

The Institute of Ismaili Studies was established in 1977 with the object of promoting scholarship and learning on Islam, in the historical as well as contemporary contexts, and a better understanding of its relationship with other societies and faiths. The Institute’s programmes encourage a perspective which is not confined to the theological and religious heritage of Islam, but seek to explore the relationship of religious ideas to broader dimensions of society and culture. The programmes thus encourage an interdisciplinary approach to the materials of Islamic history and thought. Particular attention is also given to issues of modernity that arise as Muslims seek to relate their heritage to the contemporary situation. Within the Islamic tradition, the Institute’s programmes promote research on those areas which have, to date, received relatively little attention from scholars. These include the intellectual and literary expressions of Shi™ism in general, and Ismailism in particular. In the context of Islamic societies, the Institute’s programmes are informed by the full range and diversity of cultures in which Islam is practised today, from the Middle East, South and Central Asia and Africa to the industrialized societies of the West, thus taking into consideration the variety of contexts which shape the ideals, beliefs and practices of the faith.

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These objectives are realised through concrete programmes and activities organised and implemented by various departments of the Institute. The Institute also collaborates periodically, on a programme-specific basis, with other institutions of learning in the United Kingdom and abroad. The Institute’s academic publications fall into a number of interrelated categories: 1. Occasional papers or essays addressing broad themes of the relationship between religion and society, with special reference to Islam. 2. Monographs exploring specific aspects of Islamic faith and culture, or the contributions of individual Muslim figures or writers. 3. Editions or translations of significant primary or secondary texts. 4. Translations of poetic or literary texts which illustrate the rich heritage of spiritual, devotional and symbolic expressions in Muslim history. 5. Works on Ismaili history and thought, and the relationship of the Ismailis to other traditions, communities and schools of thought in Islam. 6. Proceedings of conferences and seminars sponsored by the Institute. 7. Bibliographical works and catalogues which document manuscripts, printed texts and other source materials. This book falls into category five listed above. In facilitating these and other publications, the Institute’s sole aim is to encourage original research and analysis of relevant issues. While every effort is made to ensure that the publications are of a high academic standard, there is naturally bound to be a diversity of views, ideas and interpretations. As such, the opinions expressed in these publications are to be understood as belonging to their authors alone.

Ismaili Heritage Series

A major Shi™i Muslim Community, the Ismailis have had a long and eventful history. Scattered in many regions of the world, in Asia, Africa, and now also in Europe and North America, the Ismailis have elaborated diverse intellectual and literary traditions in different languages. On two occasions they had states of their own, the Fatimid caliphate and the Nizari state of Iran and Syria during the Alamut period. While pursuing particular religio-political aims, the leaders of these Ismaili states also variously encouraged intellectual, scientific, artistic and commercial activities. Until recently, the Ismailis were studied and judged almost exclusively on the basis of the evidence collected or fabricated by their enemies, including the bulk of the medieval heresiographers and polemicists who were hostile towards the Shi™is in general and the Ismailis among them in particular. These authors in fact treated the Shi™i interpretations of Islam as expressions of heterodoxy or even heresy. As a result, a ‘black legend’ was gradually developed and put into circulation in the Muslim world to discredit the Ismailis and their interpretation of Islam. The Christian Crusaders and their occidental vii

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chroniclers, who remained almost completely ignorant of Islam and its internal divisions, disseminated their own myths of the Ismailis, which came to be accepted in Europe as true descriptions of Ismaili teachings and practices. Modern orientalists, too, have studied the Ismailis on the basis of these hostile sources and fanciful accounts of medieval times. Thus, legends and misconceptions have continued to surround the Ismailis through the twentieth century. In more recent decades, however, the field of Ismaili studies has been revolutionised due to the recovery and study of genuine Ismaili sources on a large scale – manuscript materials which in different ways survived the destruction of the Fatimid and Nizari Ismaili libraries. These sources, representing diverse literary traditions produced in Arabic, Persian and Indic languages, had hitherto been secretly preserved in private collections in India, Central Asia, Iran, Afghanistan, Syria and the Yemen. Modern progress in Ismaili studies has already necessitated a complete re-writing of the history of the Ismailis and their contributions to Islamic civilisation. It has now become clear that the Ismailis founded important libraries and institutions of learning such as al-Azhar and the Dar al-™Ilm in Cairo, while some of their learned da™is or missionaries developed unique intellectual traditions amalgamating their theological doctrine with a diversity of philosophical traditions in complex metaphysical systems. The Ismaili patronage of learning and extension of hospitality to non-Ismaili scholars was maintained even in such difficult times as the Alamut period, when the community was preoccupied with its survival in an extremely hostile milieu. The Ismaili Heritage Series, published under the auspices of the Department of Academic Research and Publications of the The Institute of Ismaili Studies, aims to make available to wide audiences the results of modern scholarship on the Ismailis and their rich intellectual and cultural heritage, as well as certain aspects of their more recent history and achievements.

The book is dedicated to

Heinz Halm

Preface

Al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí was one of the most distinguished and gifted personalities of the Ismaili religious and political mission, the da™wa, under the Fatimids. In the heyday of Fatimid power during the 5th/11th century, he spent most of his life serving the Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir bi’llåh (who reigned from 427 to 487 ah/1036 to 1094 ad) as a då™í or missionaryagent, in various capacities – administrative, diplomatic, military and religious – eventually attaining the highest rank of då™í aldu™åt (chief då™í) in the Fatimid da™wa. Al-Mu¢ayyad was first active as the regional leader of the da™wa in his homeland of Fårs in southern Iran, about 1300 miles away from the Fatimid capital of Cairo. Fårs was by then a nearly autonomous principality in the realm of the Fatimids’ most serious rival, the Abbasid caliph in Baghdad. As al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs – his Síra – reveals, he was attempting to convince the Bïyid ruler of Fårs, Abï Kålíjår, that a shift to the Fatimid cause would generate political and religious advantages for him. This was a highly dangerous task undertaken by the Ismaili då™í in a hostile environment, during the days of a Sunni ‘restoration’. Al-Mu¢ayyad initially evaluated his mission as a success, but shortly afterwards, he fell out of favour with the ruler and was xiii

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forced to leave his homeland and family, as it turned out, forever. After an adventurous flight via Khïzistån, northern Mesopotamia and Syria, al-Mu¢ayyad finally arrived at the Fatimid court in Cairo in 437/1045 or 438/1046. He anticipated due honours and rewards from the Imam al-Mustan˚ir for the commitment he had shown to a mission whose final failure had, in any case, been for reasons beyond his personal responsibility and influence. Instead, he spent years struggling and pleading for his achievements to be recognised and his work to be appreciated, realising in the meantime, however, that the young Imam’s political authority was seriously circumscribed by powerful and competing officials. Despite many setbacks, the ambitious refugee gradually worked his way up the hierarchy of the da™wa. He was first given the post of directorship of the Fatimid chancery (díwån alinshå¢). Next he was dispatched as head of a military delegation to northern Syria in 448/1056–450/1058. There he was ordered to build up a regional alliance against the Oghuz Turkoman people who were invading the central Islamic lands under the leadership of the Saljïq clan. Subsequently, back in Cairo, al-Mu¢ayyad finally achieved his goal when he was appointed chief då™í of the Fatimid da™wa. Except for a short interruption, al-Mu¢ayyad was henceforth the då™í al-du™åt and lived and worked at the Dår al-™Ilm, the ‘House of Knowledge’, until the end of his life in 470/1078. There, as the head of the central institution of the da™wa, he devoted his life to administering the affairs of the da™wa, teaching missionaries from both inside and outside the Fatimid empire and composing his theological works. Among the many seekers of knowledge who came to sit at the feet of al-Mu¢ayyad was the philosopher-poet Nå˚ir-i Khusraw (d. after 465/1072), who undertook his famous journey from Badakhshån to Cairo in the third decade of the fifth century ah. In Nå˚ir’s collection of poetry, we find two poems of praise addressed to al-Mu¢ayyad, ‘the Warden of the Garden’ in the spiritual centre of the Imamate. These verses praise

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al-Mu¢ayyad ‘as a teacher and healer (of souls),’ a ‘helper (of religion) (mu¢ayyid),’ incomparable in wisdom and knowledge, ‘whose poetry is the standard of wisdom’ and whose ‘prose is a model for philosophy.’1 Another famous guest at al-Mu¢ayyad’s office was Lamak b. Målik al-Óammådí, the chief qå{í of Yemen and head of a delegation sent to Egypt in 454/1062 by ™Alí al-Íulay˙í, the founder of the loyal Íulay˙id state in Yemen less than three decades before. After receiving advanced instruction on Ismaili doctrines from al-Mu¢ayyad for five years, Lamak returned home with the books and writings of the Ismaili da™wa. There, in the small Musta™lí-®ayyibí community in Jabal al-Óaråz, alMu¢ayyad’s legacy still survives today. Probably following instructions issued by al-Mu¢ayyad, Lamak organised the introduction of the Ismaili da™wa in the Indian subcontinent, where it has continued to the present day among the Ismaili Bohra communities, mainly in Gujarat, Mumbai (Bombay), and some other urban centres in India and Pakistan, as well as in East Africa where Indian Bohras have migrated. Among the ®ayyibí Ismailis, al-Mu¢ayyad is still praised and respected today as their spiritual guide and leader.2 As chief då™í and executive head of the da™wa, al-Mu¢ayyad is also the author of 800 lectures prepared for delivery at the majålis al-˙ikma (sessions of wisdom), sermons he held in front of the community of believers every Thursday in the Fatimid capital. 3 These sermons, which contain the essence of alMu¢ayyad’s religious and philosophical thinking, have yet to be analysed. In all likelihood, his ideas need to be seen as stemming from the tradition of the early Ismaili philosopher and theologian Abï Ya™qïb al-Sijiståní (d. after 361/971). The works of this Neoplatonist thinker, who was executed in eastern Iran, have also not been studied in full.4 In addition to the majålis, al-Mu¢ayyad – who already shows in the Síra a masterful command of Arabic literary style and rhetoric – is the author of more than sixty Arabic qa˚ídas, many of them poems of praise addressed to Abï Kålíjår, the Imam al-Mustan˚ir and his predecessor al-ùåhir li-I™zåz Dín Allåh.

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Among al-Mu¢ayyad’s writings, his Síra is of particular historical significance. This work, written in three stages between (around) 443/1051 and 455/1063,5 covers the years 429– 450/1038–1058. Beginning with a very vivid and eloquent autobiographical report about his religio-political mission in late Bïyid Iran, it then gives an account of al-Mu¢ayyad’s rather disillusioning experiences at the Fatimid court. In a further section of the work, al-Mu¢ayyad tells about his political negotiations with the local Bedouin rulers and the rebellious leader of the Turkish troops at Bagdhad Abu’l-Óårith al-Basåsírí, underpinning his report with letters and documents. Thus, al-Mu¢ayyad’s Síra is a highly valuable and authentic source, one written by an eye-witness and active participant in the crucial political events of the 5th/11th century. Indeed, the Síra fills and enlivens the incomplete and fragmentary information provided mainly by the historiographers of later Fatimid, Ayyïbid and Mamlïk times.6 Among the authors of the Ismaili da™wa, it was the prolific ®ayyibí då™í mu†laq and historian Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín (d. 872/ 1468) who supplemented the scarce information about alMu¢ayyad’s later life and work. Thus, we find the decree of al-Mu¢ayyad’s investiture as då™í al-du™åt reproduced in the seventh volume of his ™Uyïn al-akhbår.7 The chief då™í al-Mu¢ayyad is also referred to in two official epistles of al-Mustan˚ir sent to Yemen.8 Interest in al-Mu¢ayyad’s works was reawakened in the twentieth century as manuscripts were discovered in the Ismaili libraries of the Yemen and India, opening another chapter in their reception and continuing history. Husain al-Hamdani (1901–1962), sketching the theological tradition of the Fatimids in 1931, considered al-Mu¢ayyad to have brought the Ismaili spiritual heritage to its pinnacle and, furthermore, to have been its transmitter to the Yemeni da™wa. On the basis of manuscripts in his private library, Husain al-Hamdani was also able to identify al-Mu¢ayyad as the anonymous disputant who once challenged the famous blind philosopher-poet of Syria Abu’l™Alå¢ al-Ma™arrí to defend his vegetarianism.9 Only a short time

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later Wladimir Ivanow (1886–1970) included a list of alMu¢ayyad’s writings he had discovered in manuscript collections in Indian libraries. The list was later corrected and completed by Ismail K. Poonawala and others (see Appendix 1).10 Al-Mu’ayyad’s 800 majålis are the largest collection of this genre in the literary heritage of the Ismailis. A selection of the sermons was already edited and published by the Yemeni då™í Óåtim b. Ibråhím al-Óåmidí in his work Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq in the sixth century ah.11 The sermons have also been partly edited by Mu˚†afå Ghålib (and others).12 Among the edited majålis are the aforementioned correspondence with Abu’l-™Alå¢ alMa™arrí on the subject of vegetarianism as well as al-Mu¢ayyad’s refutation of the Kitåb al-Zumurrud of Ibn al-Råwandí.13 In 1949 the Egyptian scholar Mu˙ammad Kåmil Óusayn (1901–1961) edited both the Díwån of al-Mu¢ayyad and his Síra. His edition of the Síra al-Mu¢ayyadiyya is based on two manuscripts which he had discovered in libraries of the Bohras in Gujarat.14 In his introduction to the Síra, M.K. Óusayn was the first modern scholar to sketch the outlines of al-Mu¢ayyad’s biography, using both autobiographical elements from the Síra as well as some of the rare and mostly occasional information contained in later historical sources. Three dissertations have been written to date on al-Mu¢ayyad. The first was presented by Abbas Hamdani (son of Husain alHamdani) at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London in 1950, which has not been published.15 The second is my own study, presented to University of Tübingen and published in 1989, which focuses mainly on the first and second parts of al-Mu¢ayyad’s Síra.16 In the course of my research it emerged that the first part of the Síra might need to be regarded as the då™í’s attempt to justify and provide evidence of his own work, which he considered to be completely in accord with the aims and ethics of the Ismaili da™wa. These ideals had been previously formulated under the title al-Risåla al-mïjaza al-kåfiya fi adab al-du™åt (The Brief and Sufficient Epistle on the Code of Conduct and Etiquette of the Missionaries) by a compatriot of alMu¢ayyad, the då™í A˙mad b. Ibråhím al-Nísåbïrí, who worked

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some decades before him during the reigns of the Fatimid Caliph-Imams al-™Azíz and al-Óåkim in Cairo.17 Thus, alMu¢ayyad’s memoirs transcend the personal historical sphere of the life and activities of a då™í and refer to the norms and laws determining the Fatimid da™wa. From the foil of this proposal, the study then tries to evaluate the Síra as a source, not only for the history of the Fatimid da™wa but also for reconstructing the international political dynamics at work at the beginning of the arrival of the Oghuz Turkoman people into the very heart of the Islamic world. This threatening development, anxiously observed by Fatimid officials, finally resulted in the removal of the Bïyid military leaders and the establishment of the supreme authority of the Saljïq leader ®oghril Beg in Baghdad, the seat of the Sunni caliphate, in the year 447/1055. The third dissertation on al-Mu¢ayyad was written more recently by Bazat-Tahera Qutbuddin at Harvard University in 1999.18 In far more detail than the previously mentioned studies, she shows that the poetry of al-Mu¢ayyad can also be read as a source for reconstructing scenes and situations from his life. For the first time, she was able to use sources from the ®ayyibí Da™wa Library in Mumbai and Surat, such as the aforementioned seventh volume of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín’s ™Uyïn al-akhbår. The backbone of Qutbuddin’s study is, however, the literary and functional analysis of the poems. She comes to the conclusion that al-Mu¢ayyad’s sophisticated and subtle poetry contains a wide range of Fatimid theological and ideological motifs. Obviously it was intended to function as a medium for the proclamation of the Fatimid cause, as well as for proselyting and educating its followers. It can thus be considered as a new genre of poetry, one she calls ‘Fatimid da™wa poetry’. She also maintains that al-Mu¢ayyad was the founder of this new dynamic literary tradition, which still plays a prominent role in ®ayyibí ritual liturgy and religious education today. In view of the documentary evidence and research work on al-Mu¢ayyad, it is no exaggeration to say that we do know a great deal about this multi-talented Fatimid scholar, who

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excelled as a clever diplomatic emissary, statesman, poet, preacher and philosophical theologian. But even if we know more about him than any of his colleagues in the Fatimid da™wa – as for example, the famous Persian då™í, philosopher and theologian Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní19 – many aspects of alMu¢ayyad’s life still remain in the dark. In particular, his intellectual and theological thought, represented in the majålis and other theological writings, requires more attention and analysis. The aim of the present work is not to investigate the theological and intellectual dimensions of al-Mu¢ayyad’s writings, nor do I want to delve deeply into his poetry, even though its originality and significance has recently been shown. Rather, my intention is to offer the known biographical details of this outstanding då™í, as well as the circumstances surrounding his eventful and active life, to a broader public interested in the history of the Ismailis and in the organisation, strategies and ideals of the Fatimid da™wa. Beyond this, the book addresses readers interested in the history and the dynamics of Middle Eastern societies in the 5th/11th century, which was a time of relative stability in Fatimid Egypt but one of radical and farreaching changes in the eastern and central parts of the Muslim world. As sensitive observers – such as al-Mu¢ayyad – realised, these alarming developments also posed a threat for Egypt, but the challenges of such developments also brought with them unexpected opportunities and possibilities. In order to gain a finer appreciation of the life of the då™í alMu¢ayyad, I will use his Síra as a lens or magnifying glass. In combining a historical with a literary perspective, we will discover that, in addition to its autobiographical intent, this unique work can also be understood as a source for the ideals espoused by the Fatimid da™wa. At the same time, we will be able to detect the traces left by a då™í whose life and fate mirrors the broader history of the epoch. For more specialised readers interested in sources and academic references, the scientific apparatus can be found in the Notes, Appendices and Bibliography of this study. I was invited to write a portrait of al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-

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Shíråzí by Farhad Daftary during my visit to The Institute of Ismaili Studies in London in July 2000, for which I offer him my special thanks. I am also indebted to Bazat-Tahera Qutbuddin, presently at the University of Chicago, whose recent study has been a most useful and substantial source of information on al-Mu¢ayyad’s poetical work, but also on hitherto unknown circumstances and documents concerning his life. I would also like to thank Paul Bowman, Berlin, and Kutub Kassam of The Institute of Ismaili Studies, who edited my English manuscript at different stages with great care. Above all, I take this opportunity to express my gratitude to my teacher Heinz Halm at the University of Tübingen, who opened the way for me to engage in Shi™i and Ismaili studies many years ago. He drew my attention to al-Mu¢ayyad and promised me that his Síra would be a rich and fruitful subject for my doctoral thesis. The present study can be considered as a spark – however small and unspectacular it may be – of his inspiring scholarship and academic work. Verena Klemm Würzburg May, 2003

1 Introduction

Al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs lift the curtain on a scenery far remote from the two imperial cities of Cairo and Baghdad. There, in the two prosperous and splendid Muslim capitals of the age, historians and court chroniclers were eagerly recording and commenting on important political events, such as the coming and going of rulers, or matters of peace and warfare in the Islamic world or outside its borders in Central Asia and the realm of the Byzantine emperor. In contrast, al-Mu¢ayyad’s report of his mission at the Bïyid court reveals a specific political scenario, one related on the level of individual experience. In the southern Iranian province of Fårs, where the events took place, the territorial and political interests pursued by the Abbasid and Fatimid empires met head to head, a clash of two different religious spheres that created an atmosphere of ideological strife and tension. Thus, despite its remoteness, Fårs was a microcosm of international Muslim politics and ideology in al-Mu¢ayyad’s time. Without his endeavour to record what he had done and witnessed, important political and human aspects of 5th/11th century history would have remained in the dark forever.

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memoirs of a mission Al-Mu¢ayyad’s family and homeland

Al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí was born around the year 390/ 1000 into an Ismaili family in Fårs, probably in Shíråz, the capital of the province. The city had been founded in the early period of the Arab conquest as a camping ground for soldiers. It was situated amidst a plain with several streams flowing into a lake a few leagues distant from the city. In summer the plain was dry and desert-like. The oldest mosque in Shíråz was built in the latter half of the 3rd/9th century. Its north door was renowned for its beauty and was later called Båb Óasan, ‘the beautiful door.’ In the 4th/10th century the city was described as being nearly a league across and having narrow but lively markets as well as eight gates. The great and cultivated Bïyid ruler ™A{ud al-Dawla (367–372/978–983) built a hospital (bímåristån), a library and two palaces, one of them half a league south of the city. This palace with its extensive gardens was surrounded by a new town named Kard Fanå Khusraw where craftsmen such as wool-weavers and brocade-makers were brought to settle. The water supply of Shíråz, comprising of several channels leading through the city, had already been organised by the early Bïyids. In spring, torrents flowed down from nearby Mount Dårak.1 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s full name is Abï Na˚r Hibat Allåh b. Mïså b. Abí ™Imrån b. Dåwïd al-Shíråzí. His honorific name (laqab), alMu¢ayyad fí¢l-Dín, probably bestowed upon him when he was appointed chief då™í of Fårs, means ‘The one aided (by God) in religion.’ His other titles, ™I˚mat al-Mu¢minín (Succour of the Believers) and Íafiyy amír al-mu¢minín wa waliyyuhï (The Chosen of the Commander of the Faithful and his Friend/Select), were conferred upon him later when he became the chief då™í of the Fatimid da™wa in Cairo in 450/1058. Prior to al-Mu¢ayyad’s appointment, the position of chief då™í of Fårs was occupied by his father Mïså b. Dåwïd in the service of the Fatimid Caliph-Imam al-Óåkim bi-Amr Allåh (386–411/996–1021). Fårs was regarded as a jazíra (lit., ‘island,’ pl. jazå¢ir) of the Fatimid da™wa, that is, one of the regions outside the Fatimid state where the Ismaili mission was active.

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Sometime during the reign of the Caliph-Imam al-ùåhir (411– 427/1021–1036), Mïså’s son Hibat Allåh was granted permission from Cairo to take over the da™wa office from his father.2 The effective ruler of Fårs at this time was the Bïyid general (amír) Bahå¢ al-Dawla. The Bïyid military rule The Bïyids (or Buwayhids) were a powerful family of military leaders who originally came from Daylam, a mountainous region south of the Caspian Sea in northern Iran. After successfully establishing their sovereignty in the Iranian lands of the caliphate (Fårs, Kirmån and Khïzistån), one of the Bïyid brothers, Mu™izz al-Dawla, took over military power in Baghdad in 334/945, under the title of amír al-umarå¢ (Supreme Commander).3 The Bïyid family reigned for 110 years in the central and eastern parts of the Muslim world. The Abbasid caliphs became puppets of the military, their power reduced to the symbolic function of representing the religious claim of Sunni Islam. Most of the Bïyids, however, were Shi™is of the Twelver-Imami and Zaydí persuasions. Thanks to the politics and patronage of the Bïyid ruling class, the Twelver Shi™a witnessed for the first time a flourishing of their religious and intellectual culture during the 4th/10th century. Despite their common Shi™i heritage, the Bïyids’ official relations with the Fatimids remained most of the time cool, if not hostile. With the exception of one single and short diplomatic exchange during the reign of the Bïyid ™A{ud al-Dawla, there is no evidence of any good neighbourly relations with the Fatimid empire.4 The Bïyids regarded the Fatimids as their political and religious rivals. But in Fårs they seem to have been on the whole tolerant of the Ismaili missionaries working in their territories as agents of the Fatimid caliphs. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s father was apparently held in high esteem by the powerful Bïyid wazír Fakhr al-Mulk, known for his open attitude and friendship towards the Shi™a in general. Al-Mu¢ayyad reports in his

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Síra that, upon succeeding his father, he could conduct his religious activities openly. He was even able to care undisturbed for the spiritual welfare of the Daylamí soldiers serving the Bïyid sovereign of Fårs and Kirmån, Abï Kålíjår ™Imåd al-Dín Marzubån.5 The Daylamí mercenaries (ispahsålåriyya) were a national force supporting the Bïyid family’s claim to power. They accompanied the founders of the Bïyid dynasty, the brothers ™Alí, Óusayn and A˙mad b. Bïya (™Imåd al-Dawla, Rukn al-Dawla and Mu™izz al-Dawla), as infantrymen on their victorious march from the mountainous province of Daylam at the southern shores of the Caspian sea into the ™Abbasid realm. They continued to be the backbone of the Bïyid army in the Iranian parts of the Bïyid power sphere, whereas regiments of Turkish cavalry constituted the majority of the Bïyid military force in the ™Abbasid heartlands. The relationship between the Daylamí and Turkish soldiers was marked by continuous rivalry. Whereas the Shi™i Daylamís supported a strong and independent Bïyid policy, the Turkish soldiers as Sunnis backed the ™Abbasid caliph’s claims to power. As becomes clear from the first part of al-Mu¢ayyad’s Síra, the Daylamís included a strong and unified contingent of Ismaili soldiers. The unity of the Daylamís, of which his report gives an impression, corresponds with historical and geographical sources, which mention the clan spirit (™a˚abiyya) of this group of patriotic militants.6 Since the 2nd/8th century, Shi™i communities had already existed in Daylam. Most of them were founded by missionaries of the Zaydí movement, whose founder Zayd b. ™Alí – a rival of the early Shi™i Imam Ja™far al-Íådiq – combined a militant policy with a moderate and compromising Shi™i stance. In the 3rd/9th century, Zayd’s followers founded states in Daylam and Yemen. Daylamí provinces were thus also a fruitful field for the early Ismaili mission that was successfully introduced in this region by the theologian and philosopher Abï Óåtim al-Råzí, who succeeded in converting several Daylamí amírs.7 In the course of the events recorded by al-Mu¢ayyad it

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becomes clear that the religious tensions between Ismaili Daylamís and the Sunnis of Fårs can be understood as a conflict between competing political interest groups. Abï Kålíjår’s politics alternated between two incompatible positions, whereas each interest group was backed by competing military forces. Thus, a Sunni and pro-™Abbasid policy of the ruler provoked the protest of the Daylamís, whereas an Ismaili and autonomous Bïyid policy aroused the anger of the Sunni opposition, that is, the religious orthodoxy of Fårs. The military force behind this lobby was the Turkish soldiers. As al-Mu¢ayyad reports, the Sufis were also making common cause with the Sunni establishment in the country. The Sufis were followers of the various mystical orders, adhering mostly to the same guiding principles as the Sunnis, that is, the Qur¢an and the Sunna of the Prophet. The Sufi movement had already begun to ‘render [itself] orthodox’ during the 3rd/9th century.8 The Fatimid Ismaili da™wa Fårs, where al-Mu¢ayyad grew up and began his activities, was only one of many Fatimid jazíras spread all over the Muslim world as nuclei of the Ismaili da™wa network. The Arabic term da™wa means ‘summons’ or ‘calling.’ The ‘summons to the truth’ (da™wat al-˙aqq) or the ‘rightly guiding summons’ (alda™wa al-hådiya) were the vehicles for propagating the Ismaili religious teachings and ideals. Since the Imams of the Fatimid dynasty considered themselves true heirs of the Prophet Mu˙ammad, the religious aim of their da™wa was always linked with political ideals. As legitimate rulers of the Islamic community, they refused to acknowledge the authority of the Abbasid caliphs in Baghdad whom they considered to be usurpers. Since the ultimate goal of the Ismailis was an absolute religious and political reformation of society, the da™wa had to operate secretly or – as in the case of the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad – in semi-secrecy and, at the very least, with great caution. It could only afford to be open and public after it had gained success. This was the situation inside the borders of the Fatimid empire

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which at its height included North Africa, Egypt, Syria, Yemen and the holy cities of Mecca and Medina. In these areas the da™wa was an official institution for religious learning and education with its administrative centre at the Dår al-™Ilm, the ‘House of Knowledge’ (also called Dår al-Óikma), in the capital Cairo.9 But in a hostile, especially Sunni environment, the da™wa had to remain hidden from the eyes of government officials for whom it represented a dangerous and subversive vehicle of political and religious agitation. For some Sunni authors, the Fatimid da™wa came to be veiled in an aura of conspiracy and heresy, and thus a suitable target for anti-Ismaili polemics and propaganda. In common with the Twelver Shi™is, the Ismailis claim that their Imams are descended from Få†ima, the daughter of the Prophet Mu˙ammad, and his cousin and son-in-law ™Alí. The line of Shi™i Imams continued until the sixth Imam Ja™far alÍådiq, upon whose death in 148/765 there occurred a major schism among his followers regarding his rightful successor.10 Ja™far had originally designated his eldest son Ismå™íl to succeed him in the imamate, but the latter is alleged to have died or disappeared mysteriously during his father’s lifetime. The disputes between various groups about the true heir led to several divisions in the Imåmí Shi™i community after Ja™far’s death. The majority of the Shi™is finally acknowledged Ja™far’s son Mïså al-Kåúim as their seventh Imam, and they later came to be known as the Ithnå™ashariyya or ‘Twelvers’ because of their belief in a line of twelve Imams. But the followers of Ismå™íl refused to accept this outcome which, they maintained, was contrary to the the will of the Imam Ja™far al-Íådiq. According to early Shi™i sources, two proto-Ismaili groups emerged from that split. One group maintained that Ismå™íl had not died and was believed to be in concealment (ghayba) for reasons of security, since the Abbasids were seeking to arrest him, but that he would return one day as the mahdí (the rightly guided) or qå¢im (the one who arises). The Shi™i heresiographers al-Qummí and al-Nawbakhtí (writing shortly before 286/899), refer to this group as ‘the pure Ismailiyya’

introduction

7

(al-Ismå™íliyya al-khåli˚a). Another group, called al-Mubårakiyya after Ismå™íl’s epithet al-Mubårak (the blessed one), held that the line of Imams continued through Ismå™íl’s eldest son Mu˙ammad. These two groups appeared to have coalesced into a single movement from which arose the Ismaili da™wa a century later. Historically, little is known about Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl. As far as we know, he was born around 120/738 and, following the death of Ja™far al-Íådiq, he emigrated from his native Medina to the East, where he hid from the persecution of the Abbasids. Among his followers, therefore, he acquired the name al-Maktïm (the hidden one). He died some years after 179/ 795 in Khïzistån in south-western Iran. Thus, for the earliest history of the Ismailis we only possess a confusing picture of succession disputes and sectarian divisions. Around the middle of the 3rd/9th century, however, a strong and unified Ismaili movement came into being. This was the achievement of the early Ismaili da™wa, which did not cease to propagate the religious and messianic claims of Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl as the true Imam and mahdí, who would return imminently to establish a reign of universal peace and justice on earth until the Day of Judgement. From da™wa to empire When al-Mu¢ayyad was active as the head of the Fatimid mission in Fårs, the da™wa had already passed through 200 years of history. Already around the middle of the 3rd/9th century its international and flexible character was clearly evident. Ismaili då™ís were working, for example, in remote rural areas of southern Iraq as well as in urban centres such as the ancient town of Rayy (Rhages) in northern Iran. They were sent out by a mysterious master called ™Abd Allåh, who was probably the organiser of the early Ismaili network. In the Fatimid tradition his name is cited as ™Abd Allåh al-Akbar, that is, ‘™Abd Allåh the Elder’ – probably to distinguish him from ™Abd Allåh al-Mahdí, the later founder of the Fatimid dynasty. ™Abd Allåh al-Akbar

8

memoirs of a mission

was the ancestor of the Fatimid Imams. He was a rich merchant in ™Askar Mukram, a prosperous city situated on the river Dujayl in the region of Khïzistån, north of the Persian Gulf, not far from Ahwåz, the capital of the region. Even today ™Abd Allåh’s identity is a matter of dispute. In the tradition related in the polemical anti-Ismaili tract of Ibn Rizåm, our oldest source,11 his enemies consider him to be the son of a certain non-™Alid Maymïn al-Qaddå˙. Recent research characterises this record as anti-Ismaili slander. After carefully comparing and analysing several more serious sources of information, Heinz Halm suggests that ™Abd Allåh might have been a descendant of ™Aqíl b. Abí ®ålib, who was a brother of ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib. According to the Ismaili tradition, however, ™Abd Allåh was a son of Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl, a version espoused by the Fatimids. In fact, ™Abd Allåh was given protection in a family, clients of the ™Aqíl clan, in Ba˚ra after he was forced to flee from ™Askar Mukram. There he had presented himself as a messenger and living ‘proof’ (˙ujja) of the hidden Imam Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl, who had lived more than half a century earlier. ™Abd Allåh claimed that the mahdí was waiting for his glorious return in a hiding place outside the grasp of the Abbasid caliphs. ™Abd Allåh claimed that as his ˙ujja, he was the only one in contact with him. After ™Abd Allåh’s authority became more and more accepted and his då™ís began to win converts amongst the population of the region, he was finally driven out of town by his Sunni enemies, who even destroyed his two houses. As fate would have it, he was soon also driven out of Ba˚ra for the same reasons. In the company of his då™í Óusayn al-Ahwåzí and others, ™Abd Allåh left for Syria where he settled down as a merchant in the town of Salamiyya, this time keeping the secret of his identity and his message to himself and a few confidants. He acquired a house near the market, became prosperous and founded a family. Meanwhile, his då™ís were eagerly extending their activities to various regions in the Muslim world. Thanks to their work, Ismaili communities were established in the area of the Iranian

introduction

9

town of Rayy as well as to the north in the Daylam region on the south-western shore of the Caspian Sea, including the provinces of Gílån, ®abåristån and Gurgån. A secret centre of the da™wa was established in Níshåpïr (Arabic, Naysåbïr) in Khuråsån. From this base the Ismaili da™wa reached Afghanistan and even Transoxania in Central Asia with its headquarters at Bukhårå (in present-day Uzbekistan). Óusayn al-Ahwåzí was sent to southern Mesopotamia where he was able to win over the villagers in the Sawåd of Kïfa to the Ismaili cause. According to Ibn Rizåm, this must have occurred in 261/875 or 264/ 878.12 From this base in the remote region of the Sawåd of Kïfa, the da™wa spread further into the Iranian and Arab countries east and west of the Persian Gulf and their hinterland. It reached Kirmån and Fårs, the eastern parts of the Arab peninsula and then extended further to the south-west, namely to the Yemen (where Ismaili communities have survived to the present day). Yemen was to become one of the most important and effective Ismaili centres. From here the first expeditions to the Indus valley and to north-west India would soon start.13 Even earlier, in the year 278/892, Yemen was the springboard for the då™í Abï ™Abd Allåh al-Óusayn b. A˙mad al-Shí™í to establish extremely promising contacts with northern Africa. A native of Kïfa, he was committed to the da™wa in Yemen at the side of Ibn Óawshab, also known as Man˚ïr al-Yaman, ‘the Conqueror of Yemen,’ who had started his secret mission in south-west Arabia in the seaport and trading city of ™Adan (Aden) ten years earlier.14 During the pilgrim festivities of the ˙ajj in Mecca, Abï ™Abd Allåh al-Shí™í initiated contact with pilgrims from amongst the Kutåma, a Berber tribe from the region of Qu˚tan†ína (Constantine), located in the west of what is today Algeria. Soon after, he was invited to visit the region and to settle down there. Together with his elder brother Abu’l-™Abbås, he founded a new base from where the Fatimid state would arise just a few decades later.15 In the decentralised network of the Ismaili da™wa, important centres for logistics and communication were located in

10

memoirs of a mission

the cities of ®åliqån (in Daylam), Cairo, Kïfa and in Yemen. Towards the end of the 3rd/9th century, the da™wa had even created political enclaves in southern Iraq, northern Africa, Ba˙rayn and Yemen, all openly declaring themselves to be independent of Abbasid hegemony. There, local supporters of the hidden Imam were ready to take up arms whenever an order from him or his representative was received. The centre of this expanding organisation was, however, in Salamiyya, where ™Abd Allåh was secretly receiving då™ís and couriers from the jazíras and sending instructions to his helpers abroad in the same inconspicuous manner. For reasons of security, in Salamiyya itself no efforts were made to win over the population of the town. The centre of the international activities of the da™wa in ™Abd Allåh’s splendid and castle-like residence stayed completely under cover. ™Abd Allåh must have died soon after the middle of the 3rd/ 9th century. His two sons carried on his secret activities in Salamiyya. One of them became the central leader of the da™wa. The situation remained unchanged for a further generation. The next central leader of the da™wa Sa™íd b. al-Óusayn, born in 260/874, was to become the founder of the Fatimid caliphate in North Africa in 297/909, under the name of ™Abd Allåh alMahdí. While still in Salamiyya, Sa™íd b. al-Óusayn decided to inform his supporters that he himself was a descendant of the hidden Imam Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl and therefore their true Imam and mahdí. This historical statement opened a new era in the history of the Ismailis and led to the establishment of the Fatimid state soon after. The period of concealment (dawr al-satr) of the Imams had finally come to an end. A first consequence of ™Abd Allåh’s revolutionary step was the splitting of the Ismaili movement: the communities in Iraq and Ba˙rayn, named after their first leader, the då™í Óamdån Qarma† refused to acknowledge the new leader as their Imam and continued the da™wa for the hidden Imam, becoming known to history as the Qarma†ís. Most of the other då™ís, however, remained loyal to the leadership in Salamiyya. In the Palmyrene, the desert region east of Damascus, the fervent and

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11

impatient followers of the Banï Kalb bedouins rebelled against the Abbasid governor of the town in the name of al-Mahdí. As police forces moved towards Salamiyya, ™Abd Allåh al-Mahdí was finally forced to leave. After a long and adventurous flight westwards, he was given a warm welcome and protection in the da™wa base in northern Africa. The arrival of their spiritual leader provoked a rebellion of the Kutåma Berbers, led by the då™í Abï ™Abd Allåh al-Shí™í, against the Aghlabid governors in northern Africa. The fall of the Aghlabids marked the end of Abbasid sovereignty in the western parts of the Muslim world. As the first Fatimid Caliph-Imam, al-Mahdí took up residence in the palace city of Raqqåda near the Aghlabid capital of Qayrawån in 297/909. Such were the circumstances in which the Fatimid empire came into being.16 For the next 250 years, the Abbasid caliphs would have serious and powerful rivals, inspired by a religious ideal that aimed to win over still further territories to the Fatimid state. An obvious step in this direction was the Fatimid conquest of Egypt, a further highpoint in the history of Fatimid political success. With the establishment of their capital in Cairo – ruled until then by vassals of the Abbasids – the Fatimids enjoyed sovereign rule from the Atlantic coast to the eastern Mediterranean. For many decades to follow, Cairo became the capital of an ever expanding empire. The city was occupied in 358/ 969 during the reign of the fourth Caliph-Imam al-Mu™izz (341– 65/953–75). Al-Qåhira, as is the city’s Arabic name, became the seat of the Fatimid state and its administrative and religiopolitical institutions. It comprised of the royal palaces as well as a number of ministries, dealing with finance (díwån alamwål), the army (díwån al-jaysh) and the chancery of the state (díwån al-inshå¢). Under the Fatimids, Cairo became a flourishing city of legal, philosophical and religious scholarship as well as of the sciences, art and literature. It became the centre of the international network of their da™wa, whose complex hierarchy was headed by the chief då™í (då™í al-du™åt).17 His ministry included the college of al-Azhar and the academy of Dår al-™Ilm, which attracted gifted individuals from the

12

memoirs of a mission

provinces of the empire or from beyond its borders, in particular from Iranian lands, for personal training and instruction. Some of them stayed for years or even for the rest of their lives in the city, where they continued their careers and were active as authors of the growing corpus of Fatimid religious and philosophical literature. Fatimid policy towards the Sunni majority of the country, as well as other religious communities like Jews and Christians, was on the whole tolerant and sought their integration within society. For their elites, the way was open for splendid careers in administrative, political and military offices. Also, members of diverse ethnic communities, such as the Berbers, Turks, Africans, Daylamís and Arabs, were all in service of the state, in particular the army. Only later was the multi-ethnic character of the army to become a constant source of tension and unrest. But when this became manifest, it certainly was one of the main reasons for the violent factionalism and increasing disintegration of the state in the second half of the reign of the Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir (427–487/1036–1094), whose very long reign marked at once the apogee and the beginning of the downfall of the Fatimid empire. Shortly after their glorious entry into Cairo, the Fatimids succeeded in winning over the local rulers of the holy Islamic cities of Mecca and Medina. Now at last, the Abbasid rulers in Baghdad must have realised that this expansion was more than a political challenge: from now on the most sacred sites of the Islamic faith had become centres for the summons of the Fatimid da™wa. Soon after, Fatimid governors established themselves in the coastal towns of Palestine, extending as far as ®aråbulus (Tripoli). The occupation of central and northern Syria turned out to be more difficult, but continued nevertheless. Again and again Damascus was attacked or occupied by Fatimid military forces. Aleppo was finally conquered in the reign of the Fatimid Caliph-Imam al-Óåkim bi-Amr Allåh (386–411/ 996–1021), during the lifetime of al-Mu¢ayyad’s father. During these years even the ally of the Abbasids in northern Iraq,

introduction

13

the ™Uqaylid leader Qirwåsh b. Muqallad, acknowledged temporarily the Ismaili Imam. It was in the reign of al-Óakim that Fatimid sovereignty finally reached the gates of Baghdad. Fatimid agents became active in the capital and even in the palace of the Abbasid caliph. In the Shi™i quarter of al-Karkh, often a centre of opposition and unrest, one could often hear the slogan supporting the Fatimid Imam ring out: ‘Ya Óåkim, yå Man˚ïr’ (‘O victorious Óåkim!’).18 Confronted with the continuous challenge posed by their religious and political rival, Bïyid police forces reacted with harsh political measures against the activitists of the Fatimid da™wa in Iraq. The hostility also provoked an anti-Ismaili reaction among supporters of the caliph and his Bïyid masters in Baghdad. There, Sunni and Twelver Shi™i theologians and legal scholars launched a series of polemics denouncing the Fatimids and their claims to be the descendants of the Prophet. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s lifetime A few decades later, the Fatimid expansion had come to a standstill and the struggle with the Abbasids reached a stalemate. In Baghdad, the political and religious centre of the Sunni caliphate, new problems had become virulent: Turkish and Daylamí soldiers were in permanent strife, the Bïyid leaders became more and more disunited, and their territories split. Thus, the addressee of al-Mu¢ayyad’s da™wa, Abï Kålíjår, who had been ruler of Fårs, Kirmån, Khïzistån and ™Umån since 415/1024, was embroiled in constant rivalry with his uncle Jalål al-Dawla, the supreme amir in the capital of the caliph. There, in Baghdad, discontent and protest against Bïyid military tutelage had emerged and was being expressed openly. Followers of the caliph protested against the Bïyids’ degradation of the Sunni head of Islam and their tolerance of the Shi™a and the rationalist theological school of Mu™tazila. Taking advantage of this growing opposition against the Bïyids, the Abbasid caliphs al-Qådir (381–422/991–1031) and al-Qå¢im (422–467/1031–1075) succeeded in restoring at least

14

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a part of their political status and power. In 409/1018, al-Qådir published a famous manifesto which proclaimed the religious, political and legal programme of the Sunni Óanbalí school to be the official orientation for the caliphate. This manifesto, very traditionalist and anti-Shi™i in outlook, was read in front of a large assembly of dignitaries and officials. The phase of the so-called restoration of the Sunni ideology, an enforced revival of ‘orthodox’ tradition accompanied by an outburst of anti-Shi™i polemics and emotions, had begun.19 The ‘creed of al-Qådir’ (al-i™tiqåd al-Qådirí) was again proclaimed in 433/1042 during the reign of al-Qå¢im. Its strongest influence could be felt in Baghdad, but, as al-Mu¢ayyad himself was to witness, the sparks it ignited were also alighting elsewhere in the Abbasid empire. Thus, a scenario marked by a number of different polarisations forms the field of tension in which al-Mu¢ayyad lived and worked in Fårs. As we shall see, his destiny was influenced by the difficult and tense relationship between the Fatimids and Abbasids, two imperial powers with a long history of mutual religious hostility, ideological infiltration and political opposition. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s biography was also influenced by the intensifying power struggle between the caliphate and the Bïyid military sovereigns inside the Abbasid realm. Already during al-Mu¢ayyad’s early career this struggle was characterised by the growing religious and ideological polarisation of the Sunni restoration as the forces of the traditionalist and orthodox persuasion gained the upper hand over Shi™i rationalist and other theological groups and trends. The political unrest resulting from this confrontation was aggravated by a power struggle inside the Bïyid family as well as rivalry between the local Bïyid rulers and the Bïyid supreme commander in the capital Baghdad. But this was not all. A further tension would influence the course of al-Mu¢ayyad’s life: the invasion of the Turkish Oghuz tribal peoples, also called Turkomans, who, from their territories in Central Asia, were continuously moving towards the central Islamic lands, proving unstoppable in their advance.

introduction

15

Under the leadership of the Saljïq clan, they crossed the river Amï Daryå (Oxus) with their horses and livestock in the year 426/1035. Only a few years later they attacked and conquered the eastern Iranian lands belonging to the imposing Sunni Ghaznavid empire. During al-Mu¢ayyad’s activity in Fårs, the Saljïqs were already a menacing shadow on the eastern horizon of his world. As he arrived in Egypt in 436/1045 or 437/ 1046, Abï Kålíjår’s allies, the Kåkïyids of Hamadån in western Iran, were soon to fall. This opened the way for the Saljïqs to Baghdad. Ten years later, in 447/1055, ®oghril Beg entered the capital, claiming to free the Abbasid caliph from Bïyid tutelage. His arrival was warmly welcomed by the city’s Sunni population. The line of the Bïyids was soon to be extinguished. But before the city was officially given over to the Saljïqs, the Turkish rebel al-Basåsírí managed to enter it briefly in the name of the Fatimids. In this audacious venture, he was probably secretly encouraged and supported by al-Mu¢ayyad himself (as we shall see in a later chapter). Between Dhu’l-Qa™da 450/ November 1058 and Dhu’l-Qa™da 451/January 1060, the Friday sermon in Baghdad was delivered in the name of the Fatimid Imam al-Mustan˚ir who became, at least for a year, the political head of the Muslim world.

2 The Rise and Fall of a då™í

In this chapter we want to present the first part of al-Mu¢ayyad’s Síra. The då™í begins by relating why he feels motivated to write down what happened during his mission in the Bïyid capital of Shíråz in Fårs. In his eloquent Arabic style, he then gives a detailed account based on a chronological rendering of the course of events, beginning with the Ismaili feast at the end of Rama{ån 429/1038 and ending after his arrival in Egypt, which must have been in the year 437/1045 or 438/1046 (see next chapter). The author al-Mu¢ayyad shaped his report in a literary form, often based on rhymed prose, interspersed with lively dialogues, self-composed poems, dreams, stories and parables. The report can therefore not only be considered a unique historical source, but at the same time a masterpiece of medieval Arabic literature. Prologue (Síra, 3–4) Al-Mu¢ayyad explains the reason for writing down this account of what happened in Fårs as the ruler of Shíråz, Abï Kålíjår, and the Sunni mob made common cause to destroy the Ismaili da™wa and humiliate its leaders. He wants this terrible event to 19

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be kept for posterity, particularly because, as some close observers could discover, it also demonstrated the hidden kindness of God, who – by giving everything a sudden turn and finally crushing the machinations of the devil – ultimately brings about an unexpected outcome and reveals His unique knowledge. Al-Mu¢ayyad asks God for the inspiration needed to provide a true record of the disastrous events and the consequences they had for his own life. He wishes his record to be an ‘exemplary statement’ of a man who has been ‘ground by the molars of affliction’ and thrown ‘into the ocean of disorientation.’ Reasons for Abï Kålíjår’s hostilities (Síra, 4–5) The intelligent but very young Bïyid sultan Abï Kålíjår once had a teacher who stirred up his animosity against the Ismailis, whom he refers to as the ahl al-bayt (people of the household).1 The teacher had died since then, but during his lifetime he had been hostile towards the Shi™is and al-Mu¢ayyad in particular. The hatred that was dinned into Abï Kålíjår is further nourished by a group of courtiers and Turkish soldiers. They make him believe that the Ismailis are unbelievers and heretics who neither pray nor fast. They warned that the Ismailis would pose a serious danger for Abï Kålíjår, since they spread propaganda supporting the Fatimid ruler of Egypt. This constant agitation, tells al-Mu¢ayyad, ‘heated up the oven’ and inflamed ‘fanaticism and factional spirit.’ Feast at the breaking of the fast of Rama{ån (Síra, 5–6) At the end of the feast of Rama{ån in the year 429 (July 6, 1038), al-Mu¢ayyad prepares the feast for a crowd of people in the courtyard of his house. Since the new moon has not been sighted, this is considered provocative everywhere in Shíråz – but nobody intervenes.2 The next day the Ismailis begin to celebrate, joined by many Daylamí Ismaili soldiers who arrive at al-Mu¢ayyad’s house. The Sunnis, however, continue fasting for the 29th day. In view of the tension generated in the town,

the rise and fall of a då™í

21

al-Mu¢ayyad asks his guests to be patient and pious; no enemy should be given the opportunity to cause further agitation. Nevertheless, the Sunni population becomes infuriated about the early breaking of the fast by the Ismailis. As the crescent moon becomes visible in the evening sky, they realise that their opponents were right, whereas they themselves had fasted a day longer than necessary. This, though, only makes them more furious with the Ismailis. Al-Mu¢ayyad establishes contact with Abï Kålíjår’s wazír (Síra, 6–9) The next day al-Mu¢ayyad is summoned before the wazír al™Ådil Bahråm b. Måfanna.3 The då™í praises his intelligence, honesty and nobility. Al-™Ådil warns al-Mu¢ayyad that Abï Kålíjår had become angry upon seeing the outraged Sunni crowds the day before. The sultan is now considering having the troublemaker al-Mu¢ayyad killed if he is not prepared to leave the country. Furthermore, the town judge (qå{í) had called on the wazír to complain in the name of the religious officials and public in the mosque.4 They hold al-Mu¢ayyad responsible for the spread of heresy and asked for permission to destroy his house and kill everybody there. Al-™Ådil tried to convince the qå{í that this would lead to a bloody upheaval by the Daylamí soldiers. In response the qå{í then threatened to mobilise the Turkish soldiers. The wazír regrets that a prudent man like alMu¢ayyad has unjustly become the target of the sultan’s anger. But now, he tells him strictly, he has to advise him to leave the town. He would therefore offer the då™í any support needed for the journey, wherever he eventually decides to go. In his long answer, al-Mu¢ayyad points out the selflessness of his work as well as his personal modesty and poverty. He criticises the dangerous politics of Abï Kålíjår and the materialism and corrupted mind of the complaining qå{í. But he declares himself ready to obediently follow the advice of the wazír. During the following night al-Mu¢ayyad hardly thinks about what strategy he should choose. The next morning he discloses

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to the wazír that he would never forgive himself if he just fled from his homeland. Nothing could be more dangerous than this. He asks al-™Ådil to at least give him a few days to sell his little house and to prepare for his departure. Before leaving the wazír he does not forget to remind him of the harmony that exists between himself, al-Mu¢ayyad, and the Daylamí soldiers, who would be ready to assist him if he had any problems. If they found out about his real situation they would undoubtedly become enraged. Al-Mu¢ayyad declares that he does not want to be held responsible for this. The wazír proposes that al-Mu¢ayyad stay in his house without any contacts with the outside world. The då™í objects, saying that the Daylamís would wonder about this strange behaviour of their spiritual leader, someone who was otherwise like a father to them. In any case, he is ready to follow the order of the wazír. At home, behind closed doors, he asks God to bring this scandal to light. Tensions heighten in Shíråz (Síra, 9–12) As al-Mu¢ayyad had hoped, the news of his house arrest spreads like wildfire in Shíråz. The Daylamí soldiers march to the animal market because they feel continuously humiliated by the government and, unlike the Christians and the Jews, are hindered in their freedom to practise their religious beliefs. In a letter of protest handed to the wazír, they announce their firm will to react with force against any further humiliation. As tensions heighten in Shíråz, al-™Ådil receives orders to calm the crisis. He sends for the qå{í and all like-minded persons, such as the preachers (qu˚˚å˚) and the Sufis. On their way to the palace, they cross Daylamí lines and are provoked and abused by their opponents. Already in shock at the summons issued by the wazír, they now become frightened. And indeed, al-™Ådil expresses his disapproval at the behaviour of the Daylamís. He accuses them of creating unrest and risking a dangerous civil war. At the same time, he reassures them that al-Mu¢ayyad will not be sent into exile, but only needs to stay at

the rise and fall of a då™í

23

home for a few days until the crisis is resolved. He assures them that no harm shall happen to him. A few days later al-Mu¢ayyad receives official permission to resume his business and to hold religious assemblies (majålis) as usual, in line with his task as leader of an Ismaili congregation. 5 He considers, however, that it would be prudent to transfer all his books and documents to a hiding place somewhere. Then he decides to wait and see what fate would bring. Later, he changes his mind and decides to leave Shíråz and travel to Ahwåz, a town in Abï Kålíjår’s realm and an assembly point for Daylamí soldiers. There he would wait until God deems to give him guidance. Al-Mu¢ayyad is pleasantly surprised to find out that Abï Kålíjår is also planning to travel to the same town. Now he will not have to travel alone! As he is eagerly preparing for his departure, he receives a written order from the wazír forbidding him from joining the caravan. Abï Kålíjår is obviously very upset about the prospect of the troublesome Ismaili då™í joining his company. Al-Mu¢ayyad immediately goes to the wazír al-™Ådil and complains about such treatment of an innocent, weak and despised man. But he only gets another admonishment for his troubles. Al-™Ådil tells al-Mu¢ayyad that Abï Kålíjår cannot even bear to hear his name or even to be near him. He advises the indignant då™í to be quiet and remain silent. Subdued and resigned, he leaves the wazír. The Daylamís, however, are permitted to accompany the ruler to Ahwåz. Winter in Baså (Síra, 12) Al-Mu¢ayyad spends the winter in al-Baså, a town four days’ journey south-east from Shíråz. It has a large Shi™i population as well as many Daylamís. Under the leadership and supervision of al-Mu¢ayyad they start constructing a mashhad, a shrine where the grave or relics of a holy person may be preserved. Curiously, al-Mu¢ayyad does not mention the saint or martyr honoured by the shrine, nor the name of any person involved in his eager constructive work. The building was probably

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intended to attract Ismailis living in or passing through this neglected area far from the borders of the Fatimid empire. Perhaps al-Mu¢ayyad’s idea was to attract the Shi™i population in general.6 In any case, the building of the mashhad continues so fast that the people of the town boundlessly admire the architect. The shrine is finished as summer begins. Al-Mu¢ayyad now finds out that Abï Kålíjår is on his way back to Shíråz. He feels that the time has come to once again be at the centre of events. So he hastily returns on the back of his she-camel. The då™í becomes active (Síra, 12–16) Back in Shíråz, al-Mu¢ayyad behaves cautiously and adopts a wait-and-see approach. One day he goes with a group of Daylamí friends to a reception given by a comrade who had arrived from Ahwåz. There he meets a confidant of the Bïyid ruler Abï Kålíjår. Al-Mu¢ayyad has already shown himself to be obliging and willing to please since his return from Baså. Now he complains to the confidant about the paradoxical situation he finds himself in, being treated in such a bad way in a Daylamí (that is, Shi™i) empire, whose ruler is also a Daylamí. For the sake of peace and stability in the empire, it would be important that the ruler’s confidants draw his attention to this deplorable state of affairs. As al-Mu¢ayyad intended, Abï Kålíjår soon hears about this conversation and the mediator brings back an answer. Again the Ismaili då™í is accused of agitation and of trying to dominate Friday prayers and sermon in the town. But if he were to renounce his beliefs, then he could expect to enjoy protection. In his answer al-Mu¢ayyad pleads his innocence and shows himself to be well-meaning. There is, he writes to Abï Kålíjår, nothing dangerous about his beliefs. As the ruler is in a position to know, even his own predecessors shared the same beliefs; or might the ruler be the victim of misleading information? Since he was young, perfect and intelligent, he should be ready to listen to al-Mu¢ayyad’s words and arguments.

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At first al-Mu¢ayyad receives a friendly answer. In the name of the ruler the wazír al-™Ådil appeases him and allows him to go about his business within the usual limits, that is, without arousing public sentiment and provoking trouble. Secretly alMu¢ayyad is pleased that he was able to calm the ruler, thanks to his outstanding rhetorical talent. He reminds the wazír of the good situation enjoyed by his own father, who had possessed rank and influence under the supreme wazír Fakhr al-Mulk.7 Al-Mu¢ayyad also recalls the days of his own childhood when his father often went to the palace to show his respect and allegiance, and vice versa the wazír often visited the house of al-Mu¢ayyad’s father at night, while his young son cared for the well-being of the other guests waiting outside. AlMu¢ayyad leaves al-™Ådil in a pleasant and optimistic mood. On the same evening the ruler goes out on a hunting trip. Since Abï Kålíjår has never met al-Mu¢ayyad before, the latter has the idea of presenting himself to him, to prostrate and to pray, so that his image might finally be improved. Everything runs according to plan. The Bïyid ruler is delighted and personally gives al-Mu¢ayyad permission to stand up and sit again on his horse. Shortly later al-Mu¢ayyad finds out from al-™Ådil that he had made a very good impression on Abï Kålíjår. A few days later, as Abï Kålíjår returns, al-Mu¢ayyad repeats his prostration. From now on he is allowed to visit the royal audience. There his strategy of rapprochement finally leads to success. One day, Abï Kålíjår orders that a debate be held between al-Mu¢ayyad and his Sunni opponents. So as not to lose his superiority over his opponents in the heat of the moment, al-Mu¢ayyad arranges for the discussion to be held in written form. The dispute centres on an important and distinctive Ismaili theological position, namely the esoteric interpretation (ta¢wíl) of the Qur¢an. According to the Ismailis, the Qur¢anic text has an ‘outer’ or exoteric (úåhir) meaning and an ‘inner’ or esoteric (bå†in) meaning. Only the Imams from the offspring of the Prophet have the authority to interpret and teach this esoteric knowledge hidden behind the literal wording (lafú) of the text.

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memoirs of a mission The disputation (Síra, 16–43)

Al-Mu¢ayyad devotes considerable detail to the argument between himself and his opponents. We shall summarise only the main parts of the disputation relevant to our study. The Ismaili då™í is first asked by Abï Kålíjår to comment on several questions, beginning with the following verse from the Qur¢an: ‘Seest thou not that to Allah bow down in worship all things that are in the heavens and on the earth – the sun, the moon, the stars, the hills, the trees, the animals, and a great number among mankind? But a great number are (also) such as are fit for punishment; and such as Allah shall disgrace, none can rise to honour: for Allah carries out all that He wills.’ (22:18). The question then arises: how can it be explained that things (asbåb) like stones and animals, which prostrate before God the Almighty without an instructor, are not given preference over men who do not prostrate before God without instruction? This question leads to another: what is the opinion of alMu¢ayyad concerning the exoteric meaning of the Qur¢an (úawåhir al-qur¢ån)? Is there a meaning that is not indicated by the literal wording (lafú) of the Arabic language? If yes, who can we consult on this and learn from? What are his doctrines and his spiritual direction? And how can it be proved that he is the one who knows it? Al-Mu¢ayyad opens his answer with a proud and firm statement of his conviction in an inner meaning of the Qur¢an. Already at the beginning of his comment, he attacks the ‘tongues of the common people’ (alsun al-™åmma) who circulate what their authorities elucidate to them without knowing the answer of the true ‘people of explanation’ (ahl al-instinbå†). These are clearly referred to by God in the Qur¢an: ‘If only they had referred to the Messenger, or to those charged with authority amongst them.’ (4:83). He quotes another verse to prove that the Qur¢an has to be interpreted allegorically: ‘But no one knows its hidden meaning except Allah and those firmly grounded in knowledge’ (3:7). Al-Mu¢ayyad then continues to quote from the Qur¢an by referring to a series of verses one after the other such as: ‘We taught him (Joseph) the interpretation of stories (and events)’ (12:21),

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and ‘Nay, they charge with falsehood about that whose knowledge they cannot compass, even before the elucidation thereof had reached them’ (10 :39). Al-Mu¢ayyad also quotes the Prophetic Tradition: ‘I am the master of the Revelation and ™Alí is the master of its interpretation.’ According to the Ismaili då™í, the knowledge of ta¢wíl, that is of the esoteric or inner meaning of the Qur¢an, is the ultimate knowledge (™ilm al-™åqiba), a truth proven by the following verse: ‘That is the best and most beautiful interpretation’ (4:59). Ta¢wíl is the task of ‘a family that is explaining’ (ål yu¢awwil), that is, the Prophet’s family. Just as one seeks in this family shelter during conflict, calamity (shidda) and hardship, so one seeks security in the ta¢wíl of the Qur¢an in states of uncertainty and doubt. Thus, the wording of the Book as well as one’s reasoning (al™aql) necessitates its ta¢wíl. Al-Mu¢ayyad continues that every conscientious person knows that the Prophet has given evidence of the superiority of the Arabic language. The people who speak this language are crowned with eloquence and a chasteness of speech (jizåla), and the speech of their elite contains symbols and signs (ishåråt) not understandable to the common people. God says: ‘If the whole of mankind and jinns were to gather together to produce the like of this Qur¢an, they could not produce the like thereof, even if they backed up each other with help and support’ (17:88). The exoteric meaning of the Qur¢an was the miracle of the Prophet (mu™jizan li’l-rasïl Allåh). The ascertainment (ta˙qíq) of its esoteric meaning and interpretation is the miracle performed by the people of his household (ahl baytihi), and whoever states that it is somebody else is a liar. This truth is proven by a saying of the Prophet: ‘I leave for you two weighty things (thiqlayn) – the Book of God and my family, the people of my household.’ And further he said: ‘Become learned by a learned one of the people of my household, or from somebody who has learned from a learned one of the people of my household – thus you will be saved from hellfire.’ At the end of this series of citations, al-Mu¢ayyad states that there are still numerous arguments shining like the sun for his position. Referring to the citation in Abï Kålíjår’s opening

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round, he states polemically (against his future opponent in the debate) that the one who will not see clearly and become convinced will be he who cannot distinguish between stones and his own soul. Ridiculing his opponent, al-Mu¢ayyad implies that he will prefer stones to his soul since, according to the Qur¢anic verse he has cited (22:18), even stones prostrate before God without religious instruction; and, furthermore, his opponent will prostrate due to religious instruction, while at the same time neglect his religious responsibility (because he does not acknowledge the Shi™i Imams). The reply of the opponent (Síra, 17–22), who was obviously a Sunni theologian, refers to al-Mu¢ayyad’s comments on Abï Kålíjår’s introductory questions. He immediately takes up the polemical tone of the final passage of al-Mu¢ayyad’s comments. He accuses the då™í of protracting his argument, of contradicting himself, of fleeing from concrete answers, and of being superficial. Further, he did not answer the question of the hidden meaning of the Qur¢an in an adequately balanced way. The answer should be yes and no! Instead of giving a clear answer, al-Mu¢ayyad only gave vague hints. The opponent then elaborates on his position in respect to the right interpretation of the Qur¢an. He confesses the necessity of interpretation. However, he puts this responsibility on the shoulders of the authorities of the Sunna, the founders of the great schools of law Abï Óanífa and al-Shåfi™í, and the religious scholars working in their tradition. They have the intellectual instruments, such as syllogism (qiyås), to explore God’s words and differentiate between truth and falsehood, right and wrong. He underpins his opinion with numerous verses of the Qur¢an and Prophetic Traditions. Further, he is very eager to disclose the alleged internal contradictions of al-Mu¢ayyad’s argument. After this long comment, al-Mu¢ayyad is again given the opportunity to respond (Síra, 22–30). While maintaining the sharp and often polemical tone, he uses the same methods as his opponent – reproaches, mockery and hairsplitting – to show the emptiness of his position. Since he has the last word, the opponent has no chance to reply.

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In the second round of the dispute, al-Mu¢ayyad has to comment on the statement of another Sunni theologian by the name of al-Khuråsåní on the introductory questions of Abï Kålíjår. This scholar relies exclusively on the outer wording of the Qur¢an, not allowing the application of qiyås or even ta¢wíl to explore the true meaning whenever doubt may arise. According to him, the only fundament of law and decision are the Prophetic Traditions. Comparable with the previous exchange, this scholar of Traditions also seeks legitimacy in founding his position on Qur¢anic verses and Traditions (Síra, 30–37). Al-Mu¢ayyad, who again has the last word (Síra, 38– 42), has no difficulty in maintaining his religious position by citing alternative verses and Traditions. Again he cuts the ground from under his opponent’s feet by showing up his contradictions and mistakes. Thus, al-Mu¢ayyad emerges victorious from the intellectual competition on the most distinguished and important characteristics of his religious belief. Al-Mu¢ayyad becomes the teacher of Abï Kålíjår (Síra, 43–44) The disputation convinces the ruler of the superiority of alMu¢ayyad’s arguments, and he wants to place his soul and his beliefs into his hands.8 The proud då™í teaches Abï Kålíjår the propaedeutics of Ismaili Islam once a week on Friday nights. He gives his best to satisfy his pupil’s thirst for knowledge. The lessons proceed according to the following plan: (1) reading of the Qur¢an; (2) a chapter of the book Da™å¢im al-Islåm;9 (3) a subject that the ruler asks al-Mu¢ayyad to consolidate; (4) thanksgiving to God and Friday sermon (khu†ba) in the name of the Fatimid Imam (al-Mustan˚ir in Cairo). Abï Kålíjår tells his wazír al-™Ådil that he thanks God for awakening him from his superficial way of life, and lets him know that al-Mu¢ayyad’s opponents are untruthful and idle prattlers.

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Al-Mu¢ayyad’s enemies get the upper hand (Síra, 44–54) The då™í now wants the ruler to stop the consumption of alcoholic drinks in his court. This arouses the jealousy and hostility of the former royal drinking-mates. One of them, who once was a former adherent of the da™wa, tries to set Abï Kålíjår against al-Mu¢ayyad. Corrupt and deceitful, the traitor now describes the Ismaili doctrines as heresy and the Imam in Egypt as a squandering materialist. As a result, the Bïyid ruler becomes irritated and his religious persuasion weakens. Upon learning this, al-Mu¢ayyad speaks with Abï Kålíjår: ‘I see people working together to destroy my relationship to you. Their souls embolden them to achieve the amount they long for in their business, and this diminishes my share with you (˙aúúí ™indaka).’ To reinforce his point, the worried då ™í tells the wavering ruler a parable as follows: There was a very poor man who earned his modest living by collecting firewood in the steppe, carrying it into the city and selling it. Once in wintertime there were very cold days, and whenever he wanted to go out to do his work and earn some money for himself and his family, his face froze and cold overcame him. Soon his children were nearly starving. They asked him to go out to the outermost regions of the steppe to look for a tree big enough to cut into several parts and to buy enough food from its sale to last several days. The man did what they asked for. He found a big tree and raised his axe to fell it. But then he heard a voice saying that he should stop, that there would be a small amount of money for him under the tree every morning, and that his hard work and strain would come to an end. And the man did as he was told and his life turned to the better. But after a while, he said to himself: ‘Why should I go every morning to this tree and take from it two or three dirhams like a beggar? I think that there must be a hidden treasure under the tree, and a demon or a devil rules over it and holds me away from it. If I could succeed in felling the tree, in releasing the money beneath it and bringing it into my house ... I could take dirham after dirham in the morning.’ And so he made a plan to fell the tree. In the morning he went

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to the tree and raised his axe to cut it down. But there was a voice that said to him: ‘O man, why do you reward a tree for leading you from poverty and hunger to wealth and happiness by felling it?’ The man said: ‘Go away with this speaking, since there is no other way but to fell it for taking out what is beneath it!’ And the voice said: ‘If there is no other possibility than be on your guard against it!’ And when he raised his arm to fell the tree, his hand with the axe dried up in the air. And the voice said: ‘You ignorant! You could have felled it if you would not have known it, nor its peculiarity (khå˚˚iya). However, after you know about it, there is nothing you can do against it (lå sabíl laka alayhå).’ ‘And so are you, O king,’ said al-Mu¢ayyad to Abï Kålíjår, ‘There is nothing you can do against me (lå sabíl laka alayya) after you have got to know me and my peculiarity’ (Síra, 45f.). On another occasion al-Mu¢ayyad complains about the influence his enemies exert on the ruler. He says to him: ‘God has awakened you from sleep and brought me and you together. Thereupon I did more for you than even your father did’ (Síra, 46). His opponents are outraged at this presumptuousness, because of which he is forbidden to carry out his teaching. The då™í excuses himself with the parable of Alexander and his son. In brief, the parable relates how Alexander took his son to task for adoring his teacher more than his father. The young man justified this on the grounds that his teacher gave him spiritual salvation from the earthly pleasures his father chose for him. In addition, al-Mu¢ayyad composes a very long poem (qa˚ída) of 153 verses to remind Abï Kålíjår of what he had done for him in educating him and giving him spiritual salvation.10 He complains in the poem about the ruler’s withdrawal of patronage. He also deals with the accusations laid by his enemies, that he had shown disrespect towards Abï Kålíjår’s father, and that he had pushed Abï Kålíjår into writing to the Fatimid Imam in Cairo. We will cite some of the verses alluding to the events cited in the Síra:11

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memoirs of a mission Qa˚ída: al-Mu¢ayyad’s complaint

I do not see the age being just to me, And the noble station (Abï Kålíjår) did not show compassion to me. Nothing remained in my life of sweetness Due to the remaining of that kindness and friendly reception. And the noble regard did not remain for me The way it used to, nor the familiar generosity... Should an attendant like me be wasted in this manner, So that the arm of harm stretches towards him? It became impossible for me to remain in my seat due to false rumours That injured me through and through. If I have committed a crime, you know (of it), And there is no turning away from what you know. If my crime is what happened at Baså, Have I not explained myself – and you were pleased – During our days with the military In the coastal palace over the lookout?

Al-Mu¢ayyad then refers to the parable about Alexander and his son and asks Abï Kålíjår for forgiveness: And the parable cited about Alexander And about his son is a sign, so take it to heart. If I have said something in which I have crossed (the line) of duty, Do not be angry at a duty (performed)... And if you will accept (my) apology, And grant forgiveness for what caused your rancour, Then forgive, or else excuse the teacher If you think his mind has become dull. For I am, as you see, a teacher, And yes, (if you will), there is a slight derangement in my mind!

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Al-Mu¢ayyad refers to a correspondence that Abï Kålíjår opened with Cairo on his proposal: And if, because I said, ‘Correspond with Egypt,’ you Hold a grudge against me for that. Then your comprehensive justice suffices me as arbiter, And I have nothing but acceptance for what it dictates. Was it a reprehensible speech or falsehood, Or was it a restricted, forbidden (one)? Or did I have any purpose other than goodness, Or a goal other than pleasing you? If I said, ‘Write to the presence of the son of Få†ima, And take the path of the Hashemite in that,’ (So what), for ™Abbås is not like al-Murta{å,12 And (the former’s) descendant cannot be compared with (the latter’s) descendant. And, indeed, your forefathers also corresponded (with him), And manifested affection for him and drew near (to him), Especially when his courtyard has shone forth By a report from me raised to Egypt, In that with which the supreme opinion is in agreement. May the arrangements of his felicity forever remain harmonious. And that is the (affair) in which you sent messengers From the city of Ahwåz last year. And I come to you for instructions regarding them, And you said, ‘You remain the one who orders and forbids.’ And your auspicious face was full of jubilation. What you are writing now is the opposite of (your) earlier (opinion) – And I had said ‘(I hope for) grace from a gracious God And approaching auspiciousness of fortune for a king.’ And you had said, ‘Part of this we write So that the cord of affection be strengthened.’

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And now I await Their bringing back boundless favours, And with an answer of (good) prayer And appreciation of renewed favours... If you consider this transgression to be that, Then you have reached the utmost in punishment. I see a descent instead of a rising, The smile is no longer that (same) smile, nor is the meeting (the same meeting). The speech is no longer that (same) speech, Nor is the attitude that (same) attitude. Where are the services I have rendered in the past? I had thought I had advanced my standing by it. All this has become completely forgotten, As though we had never done any favour. It is not something that should be squandered, for its like is not sold in the market. Its source is from a solicitous, sincere adviser, A soul-brother giving it as a gift. No power will ward off (Hellfire) at a time when it will ward (it) off, And no riches will be of use on the day it will be of use. Why have (all) my acts become defective Because one characteristic among them displeased you? (And why have) the traces of (all) my good deeds become effaced For one trait that is seen to be unacceptable?

In the remaining verses the poet reminds Abï Kålíjår of the knowledge and the spiritual nourishment he has given him. He speaks about his own intellectual and religious qualities, and asks the ruler to be grateful and not to punish the teacher who passed on his knowledge and virtue to his pupil. He warns the ruler of his jealous courtiers. He also reacts to the reproach

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expressed by his arch-enemy who claims that al-Mu¢ayyad’s sophisticated words are nothing else but theft from the ancient philosophers. At the end of the poem, al-Mu¢ayyad tells Abï Kålíjår that his verses are verily a cry from the heart.13 The wazír al-™Ådil dies (Síra, 54) Following the death of the wazír al-™Ådil in 433/1041–42, alMu¢ayyad reports that his successor14 has a bad reputation and that he sides with his opponents. In view of the solidarity of his enemies and their conspiracy, the då™í becomes more and more anxious. But he is still confident, for he knows that he is moving selflessly along the path of God and the family of His Prophet. The events in Ahwåz and the intervention of Baghdad (Síra, 54–57) Al-Mu¢ayyad decides to transfer his field of action to Ahwåz. There he acquires an old and dilapidated mosque and organises its renovation and decoration. The names of the Imams are written in golden letters on teak panels in the prayer niches (mi˙råb). The building becomes a feast for the eyes. On the day the Shi™i call to prayer is heard, the people of Ahwåz do not trust their ears and are shocked. After a tactical pause, al-Mu¢ayyad intends to hold the Friday prayer and sermon in the name of the Fatimid Imam al-Mustan˚ir. He thus orders twenty Daylamí soldiers to issue the call to prayer from the roof of the mosque. The march of the Daylamís and their horses blocks the streets of the city. This happens every Friday from now on. Nobody in Ahwåz can believe how things could have come so far. Ibn al-Mushtarí, the Sunni qå{í of Ahwåz,15 recommends that the Abbasid caliph intervene. He proposes that a messenger from Baghdad should convince Abï Kålíjår to hand over the Ismaili då™í to the government in chains. Otherwise it would be advisable to threaten the Bïyid ruler with open hostility

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and the mobilisation of the Turkomans against him and his empire. Shortly afterwards, al-Mu¢ayyad is informed that Ibn alMuslima, the messenger of the caliph, has arrived in Ba˚ra.16 As he comments in retrospect, Ibn al-Muslima would finally be successful in tearing his roots out of his homeland and chasing him away like a vagabond. But in Ahwåz for the present, alMu¢ayyad finds out further that the governor of Ba˚ra recommends Ibn al-Muslima to do nothing for the moment, since the Daylamí soldiers could attack him and the då™í could flee. In fact, in front of al-Mu¢ayyad, Ibn al-Muslima distances himself from rumours that he wanted to do him harm. But alMu¢ayyad remains suspicious and is convinced that Ibn al-Muslima is secretly planning to ask Abï Kålíjår for support to finally imprison him. The messenger sets out for Shíråz. Before he enters the capital of the Bïyid principality, however, the unpopular då™í has already arrived there. Traps are set for al-Mu¢ayyad (Síra 57–68) In these pages al-Mu¢ayyad describes in great detail his enemies’ endeavours to cause his downfall before the arrival of Ibn alMuslima. In particular the traitor already mentioned above sets traps. He is supported by the Sufis, the preachers and the Óadíth scholars (a˚˙åb al-˙adíth) that is, by the Sunni religious establishment of Fårs. Al-Mu¢ayyad is invited to hold a debate with a well-known pious Zaydí who entertains good relations with the Sunni religious elite in the presence of the ruler. Several agent provocateurs are implanted to cause al-Mu¢ayyad to lose his self-control and to offend the rules governing the disputation. Moreover, since the Zaydí is also a Shi™i, al-Mu¢ayyad could be tempted to reveal some religious secrets that he is suspected of concealing from the Sunni Muslims. Al-Mu¢ayyad knows very well that an extremely difficult test is waiting for him, but he chooses a clever strategy. Immediately before Abï Kålíjår officially opens the debate,

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he tells his opponent the story of a Shi™i who was raiding the lands of the Byzantine king with a group of Sunnis. They became trapped and were thrown into prison. Each year, at a Muslim feast-day, some were released. Only the Shi™i remained in chains. After three years he was brought before the Byzantine king who asked, ‘Who is the man?’ and is answered, ‘a Shi™i (™Alawí).’ The king turns to the prisoner and questions him: ‘What does this mean – Shi™i?’ ‘I am a follower of ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib.’ ‘And who is ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib?’ ‘The companion (akh) of Mu˙ammad, who is the envoy of God and his authorised representative (wa˚í).’ ‘What happened with ™Alí after the death of Mu˙ammad?’ ‘He was killed.’ ‘Did we kill him?’ ‘No.’ ‘Who else?’ ‘The Muslims.’ ‘Did he have sons and descendants?’ ‘Yes, and the highest (ajalluhum) of them are al-Óasan and alÓusayn, the sons of the daughter of the envoy of God – God bless him and give him peace...’ ‘What happened to them?’ ‘Al-Óasan was poisoned, and al-Óusayn was murdered, and his family and ancestors were taken captive.’ ‘Did we do this to them?’ ‘No.’ ‘Who else?’ ‘The Muslims.’ ‘Man, thus your enemies are among the Muslims, and your father and your people killed them (that is, the Shi™i Imams), and you came to raid the Byzantines who did not do any crime against you? Why?’

‘And so,’ concludes al-Mu¢ayyad, ‘are you, O descendant of Mu˙ammad (yå sharíf)!’ he tells his Zaydí opponent. He further concludes that the Zaydí is courting his true enemies, the upholders of Sunni orthodoxy, who are constantly destroying

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his dignity and neglecting his ancestors. And now he intends to kill nobody other than al-Mu¢ayyad, an offspring of the same holy family, a sign and a mediator of the virtues of this family with his intellectual weapons. As al-Mu¢ayyad speaks, the face of the Zaydí turns yellow, his tongue begins to stutter, knowing not where to stand or to sit. Abï Kålíjår becomes angry about the style of the argument and therefore orders a change of subject. Again al-Mu¢ayyad, cheeky and scornful, forestalls his Zaydí adversary. He emerges superior out of a short exchange of arguments about the inner meaning of the Qur¢an and the method of defining the end of the period of fasting in Rama{ån. The companions of the Zaydí cannot but laugh at him, and so he leaves ashamed, stumbling over the hem of his garment (Síra, 57–60). In the following, we only offer a brief summary of the acts of meanness and treachery perpetrated against al-Mu¢ayyad by one of his enemies, a traitor, in the court of Abï Kålíjår: • Every day the traitor tries to invent crimes and incriminates al-Mu¢ayyad before Abï Kålíjår. He seeks to persuade the Bïyid ruler that he is secretly stirring up the Daylamís to kill him. • The traitor sends spies to the Tuesday assembly of the Daylamí soldiers in al-Mu¢ayyad’s house. There people are talking about the incident with the Zaydí. The traitor misinforms Abï Kålíjår of a plot to assassinate the Zaydí planned in al-Mu¢ayyad’s house. • The traitor accuses al-Mu¢ayyad in the presence of Abï Kålíjår of hiding his true religious beliefs. In reality, he is striving to gain greater political influence and power. AlMu¢ayyad counters the attack angrily. Abï Kålíjår is upset about this ugly excess of the two opponents. • The traitor and his friends organise an uprising of the Sunni mob during the ruler’s visit to the mosque on a Friday during Rama{ån. Al-Mu¢ayyad fears that the masses will assault his house. • The traitor proposes to Abï Kålíjår to place al-Mu¢ayyad under house arrest.

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Abï Kålíjår is in a dilemma and behaves indecisively and in a contradictory manner. On the one hand he has promised contractually not to harm al-Mu¢ayyad; on the other hand he has to respond to the threats – accompanied by precious gifts – emanating from the caliph in Baghdad. He thus sends two messengers to al-Mu¢ayyad with the advice that, in view of the countless enemies the då™í has in town, he should finally leave the country. However, a few days later he once again apologises to him. Al-Mu¢ayyad is told that the reason for his planned deportation was a letter from the caliph who threatened to mobilise the Turkomans against the Bïyids in Shíråz. The caliph complains in the letter that never before had an Ismaili då™í dared to spread propaganda so openly as he has, and never before has the name of the caliph been ignored in the prayers and Friday sermons. The letter also accuses the Bïyid authorities in Shíråz of breaking binding treaties and of disregarding its ‘contract of belief’ (™uhdat al-ímån), its promise to accept the religious sovereignty of the Sunni caliph. The caliph’s envoy Ibn al-Muslima finally arrives in Shíråz. He is welcomed by Abï Kålíjår with a chosen entourage of Turks, but not a single Daylamí. Ibn al-Muslima then sends a messenger to al-Mu¢ayyad. He flatters the Ismaili då™í for his virtue and learning, and proposes to him that if he terminated his loyalty to his master in Egypt, he could once again resume his work at the Bïyid court. Al-Mu¢ayyad proudly rejects this offer, for his devotion to the Fatimids is grounded in his religious belief and cannot therefore be compared to his relationship with Ibn al-Muslima and the Abbasid caliph. Ibn al-Muslima then leaves Shíråz. Al-Mu¢ayyad is constantly in fear for his life as neither the traitor nor the Sunni mob refrain from their attacks against him. The dream of a courtier (Síra, 66–67) A courtier in Abï Kålíjår’s palace has a dream in which the Shi™i Imam ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib appears at the place of worship (mu˚allå) in Shíråz, with the threat of annihilating anybody

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harming al-Mu¢ayyad. The ruler is angry because he believes that the då™í himself was the originator of this story. For seven long months al-Mu¢ayyad remains isolated in house arrest. Fearful of his fate, he has no idea of what is happening and how things are likely to develop outside the confines of his ‘prison.’ Qa˚ída: conversation with the soul It is probably during this time that al-Mu¢ayyad composed another poem, not included in the Síra, but found in the Díwan. The qa˚ída, possibly based on a dream, is a dialogue with an imaginary woman who might stand for his soul. The poem is a literary expression of al-Mu¢ayyad’s inner conflict: whether to stay in his homeland in the service of the Fatimid da™wa or to give up and go into exile. We will cite some verses of this poem:17 She said: ‘I see every two days a plot With which the days have struck you, the striking of a man of malice. And you stay on, enduring oppression like this, And have liberal patience with humiliation and servility. Tell me then, what is the meaning of your abiding in these conditions, And tell me – woe unto you! – what is the meaning of your desisting from Egypt?’ I said: ‘My abiding is obedience and following The command of the elect of God in creation and command. And protection for religion, in the cultivation of that abode, I have been sorely tried, and have caused (the garments of) my new age to decay. And a protecting screen that I have drawn over a group of weak people, (for) they would be buried before the grave if I were to disappear into the grave.

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I would draw near to my death by being wasted tomorrow, Just as they are felled by hunger and poverty today.’ She said: ‘If you leave in safety, They would be protected from losing you. It is more suitable and fitting that there be a separation Until the Resurrection, (a separation) in which there is no meeting until the Resurrection.’

At the end of the poem al-Mu¢ayyad, who names himself Ibn Mïså (son of Mïså), praises the Fatimid Imam-Caliph alMustan˚ir and expresses his hope for refuge and protection in his palace: It is through you that Ibn Mïså asks God for deliverance From captivity and confinement in the worst of stopping places. Entering shade in the courtyard of His elect, Shady and residing in security in the refuge of the palace.

Episode (Síra, 67) Al-Mu¢ayyad describes in detail an episode in which he is accused of having concealed a book containing proof that the Fatimid genealogy (going back to Få†ima and the Prophet) is false.18 His former Zaydí opponent had read from the book to Abï Kålíjår, who gave it to a royal official. An Ismaili comrade is suspected of having then stolen the book and given it to alMu¢ayyad. But the intrigue fails when it comes to light that, in fact, a woman slave belonging to the official had hidden the book. Again Abï Kålíjår has been shamed before al-Mu¢ayyad. Although al-Mu¢ayyad is innocent, he believes that the end of his life is now near. The flight to Ahwåz (Síra, 68–73) Once again, Abï Kålíjår sets out with his soldiers for Ahwåz. Al-Mu¢ayyad, who rightly feels even more insecure in Shíråz in the absence of the ruler and the Daylamí soldiers, asks for permission to accompany the group, but his request is rejected.

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So he decides to travel incognito, dressed in rags. In Jannåba, where he seeks refuge from a thunderstorm in a mosque during Friday prayers, he is forced to deny his true identity even to a good-natured man who believes to know him from the time when the mosque was built in the Qa˚r Ma¢mïn-quarter of Ahwåz. Another man who approaches him is suspicious of the stranger. Al-Mu¢ayyad finally resumes his journey to Ahwåz, but he is in constant fear of persecution. He arrives in Ahwåz a day before Abï Kålíjår who, in the meantime, has received information that al-Mu¢ayyad has vanished from Shíråz without a trace. In all likelihood, so say the reports, he is secretly in the Bïyid ruler’s company. Abï Kålíjår sends spies to the tents of the Daylamí soldiers and orders checkpoints to be set up at the narrow passes along the route from Shíråz and Ahwåz, but without success in capturing him. The morning after Abï Kålíjår’s arrival in Ahwåz, al-Mu¢ayyad reveals his identity. Immediately the members of the local Ismaili community gather around him. Ibn al-Mushtarí, the supreme qå{í who once had alarmed the caliph about the Ismaili danger and sent for the messenger Ibn al-Muslima, welcomes al-Mu¢ayyad and shows himself friendly and concerned. But, soon after, the ruler is informed about his presence in the town. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s enemies know how to utilise this fact for their own purposes. The traitor persuades the ruler that alMu¢ayyad has opposed his royal order to remain in Shíråz and is once again trying to stir up the Daylamís. Friends of alMu¢ayyad in Abï Kålíjår’s circle inform him that the ruler was foaming with rage and uttering terrible threats against him. They press him to leave town until the ruler has calmed down. Asylum with the Bedouin amir Man˚ïr b. al-Óusayn (Síra, 73–74) Following the advice of his friends, al-Mu¢ayyad travels to the camp of the Mazyadid Bedouin amir Man˚ïr b. al-Óusayn in the area of al-Óilla.19 There he is given a friendly welcome. His host travels straight away to Ahwåz in order to mediate and

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put in a good word for al-Mu¢ayyad with Abï Kålíjår. After his return, al-Man˚ïr confirms that his guest was not exaggerating when he spoke about the terrible conspiracies and threats against him. He proposes that he stay in his camp and wait until the ruler is once again ready to tolerate him in Ahwåz. It is just in these days, however, that Abï Kålíjår’s uncle and rival, the supreme amir (amír al-umarå¢) Jalål al-Dawla, dies in Baghdad (6 Sha™bån, 435/10 March, 1044).20 Abï Kålíjår intends to succeed him in the highest Bïyid office, for which he obviously needs the consent of the caliph. Al-Mu¢ayyad knows instantly that the door has now been definitely slammed shut on his aspirations. Al-Mu¢ayyad stays for seven months in the camp of Man˚ïr. More and more he feels a tightening in his breast and he thinks about returning to Ahwåz and accepting the terrible fate awaiting him. But al-Man˚ïr receives one letter after another from Abï Kålíjår, explaining the unexpected possibilities that the death of his uncle has opened up for him in the capital. He instructs al-Man˚ïr to prevent al-Mu¢ayyad from returning to Ahwåz, for this would block his own way to Baghdad forever. While al-Mu¢ayyad is still thinking about whether he should return to Ahwåz secretly or openly, he is informed that Qirwåsh b. al-Muqallad, the ™Uqaylid ruler of Mosul, has switched allegiance from the Abbasids to the Fatimids. For this he was honoured by the Fatimid Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir with noble titles and presents.21 In view of this significant political development that might mark the beginning of the end for the Abbasids, al-Mu¢ayyad decides to travel to Qirwåsh to assess the new situation for himself and, if necessary, to lend him his support. Al-Man˚ïr gives him two racehorses and he travels via Óillat Ibn Mazyad22 and the holy shrines in Najaf and Karbalå¢, the tombs of the Shi™i Imams ™Alí and al-Óusayn, to the north. When he arrives in Mosul, however, he finds that Qirwåsh has already reverted his allegiance to the Abbasids and apologised for his disloyalty before the caliph in Baghdad. Al-Mu¢ayyad realises at this point that there is no safe place for him to stay, and nowhere else to go except Egypt.

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memoirs of a mission Regrets and disappointment (Síra, 74–79)

After his arrival in Cairo, al-Mu¢ayyad is disappointed to find that he can neither gain access to the Fatimid Imam nor return home to Fårs. If he had waited just another year in Mosul, he could have returned to Fårs, where his enemies had become involved in a rebellion against Abï Kålíjår and executed. At this point, Abï Kålíjår writes to al-Mu¢ayyad a long, conciliatory letter, documented in the Síra (76–78), wherein he apologises to the då™í and confirms his friendship for him. He sends a messenger with the request that al-Mu¢ayyad should draw up with the Imam al-Mustan˚ir a treaty establishing an alliance between the Bïyids and the Fatimids in the face of the impending Saljïq invasion. But soon after this message arrives, Abï Kålíjår dies during a military operation against rebels in Kirmån. It is not known whether he died from poison or by suffocation.23 Al-Mu¢ayyad complains about his situation in Cairo and expresses his dissatisfaction at not being rewarded for his achievements. His expectation of being elevated to a high rank in the Fatimid da™wa remains unfulfilled, leaving him bitterly disappointed. Instead, he has ‘to bring other merchandise (i.e., his skills) on the market.’ (He is alluding here to his rhetorical talent, since he was the head of the Ministry of Seals when writing down this part of the Síra.) Thus, reckons this då™í, his destiny has become as ordinary as that of other men.

3 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s Memoirs as a Source for History

When al-Mu¢ayyad wrote down his memoirs on his mission at the Bïyid court in Shíråz, he had spent nearly a decade in the Fatimid capital. The date of his arrival in Cairo can be reconstructed approximately: it must have been the year 437/1045 or 438/1046. He was around fifty years old at the time.1 He must have written the report on his mission sometime later, around the middle of the fourth decade of the fifth century. As the last passages of this text reveal, he was still disappointed and harbouring unfulfilled hopes; and he is clearly referring to his office as the head of the díwån al-inshå¢, the Ministry of Seals, an office he took over between the years 443/1052 and 448/1056. Since he was convinced of his own outstanding qualities and counted on the experience he had gathered in the da™wa, he was not satisfied with this purely administrative office. His primary aim was to be elevated in the hierarchy of the da™wa and to hold as chief då™í one of the highest ranks in the religious order of the Fatimid dynasty. But why did al-Mu¢ayyad write down all the events and adventures he lived through in Fårs? Was he pursuing a specific

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intention, hoping to achieve something? Who was he actually addressing? Can we believe everything he reports in his memoirs? As historians we have reasons to be sceptical: for no other single source reveals, expressis verbis, the shift of the Bïyid ruler Abï Kålíjår to the Fatimid cause or the sending of such messengers and letters referred to by al-Mu¢ayyad in his long poem for Abï Kålíjår (see Chapter 2 above). Instead, we know that most of the Bïyid rulers were hostile or at best cool towards the rulers of the Fatimid empire. Are there any indications that could at least help us to clarify any possible motivation Abï Kålíjår may have had to listen to the Ismaili missionary? And why did he finally turn away from the eager då™í and chase him away? In fact, there is no reason to doubt al-Mu¢ayyad’s information about the political turn of events in Shíråz. As we will explain in the present chapter, both the vacillating political line followed by the Bïyid ruler and the då™í’s own rise and fall can be understood when we consider contemporary political developments in the Muslim world.2 An interesting reflection on the då™í’s provocative mission is to be found in the geographical and historical book Fårs-nåma (Book on Fårs) by the Sunni author Ibn al-Balkhí, who worked in Shíråz for a Saljïq master around six decades after alMu¢ayyad’s flight and the final years of the Bïyid reign. As Ibn al-Balkhí writes, Abï Kålíjår was led astray by a dangerous Ismaili agent called Abï Na˚r b. ™Imrån, containing elements of al-Mu¢ayyad’s own name (see our Introduction). Furthermore, he relates that the Daylamí soldiers, all of whom shared Ismaili convictions without exception, adored this agent ‘like a prophet.’ But ™Abd Allåh, the Supreme qå{í of Fårs – we remember him as the leader of the Sunni lobby in al-Mu¢ayyad’s report – out of ‘commitment for the religious order and the Sunna,’ warned the ruler and successfully prised him free from the clutches of this dangerous missionary. He was able to convince the ruler that the agitator was capable of mobilising within an hour the Daylamís to overthrow his government, and that the disastrous activities of this conspirator must be brought to

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an end. The ruler, naïve and innocent until then, was shocked. Subsequently, the då™í was forced upon the back of an animal and driven out by Daylamí cavalrymen and Turkish slaves to the western side of the Euphrates river. A delegate sent by the qå{í ™Abd Allåh watched over the deportation. Furthermore, al-Balkhí reports, in case he dared to return, al-Mu¢ayyad was declared to be an outlaw.3 Although this rather short record is very orthodox and even polemical in tone, it demonstrates a rather alarmed assessment of al-Mu¢ayyad’s remarkable work. While it is true that Ibn alBalkhí’s account of al-Mu¢ayyad’s humiliating banishment contradicts his own version, namely that he left Ibn Man˚ïr proudly on horseback, we can nevertheless be almost certain that Ibn al-Balkhí accurately informs us about the subversive activities of the Ismaili då™í – naturally from the perspective of his Sunni opponents. Ibn al-Balkhí’s depiction of the power and influence held by the local orthodoxy fit in well with the hostility that the Fatimid då™í complains about in his memoirs. The land of Fårs, Ibn al-Balkhí writes, had a strong and old, well-established Sunni orthodoxy. In particular Mu˙ammad alFazårí, the grandfather of al-Mu¢ayyad’s archenemy, the qå{í ™Abd Allåh, laid a ‘stable foundation for the application of the religious law.’4 From this we can conclude that the country was strictly oriented towards the Abbasid caliphate, regarding it as the only source of religious and legal authority. Moreover, the native orthodoxy was surely connected through multiple social ties with the population of the country. The strong Sunni majority in Fårs might have been the reason for the fact that Abï Kålíjår’s Shi™i-inclined Bïyid predecessors did not destroy or even dare to touch these legal and religious structures. This does not contradict the fact that the wazír Fakhr al-Mulk, once interested in consulting al-Mu¢ayyad’s father, tolerated unorthodox views and groups. But officially, writes Ibn al-Balkhí, ‘heretics do not have a chance in Fårs.’5 But what, then, might have been the reasons for Abï Kålíjår’s open-mindedness towards Ismaili thought and his compliance with the då™í’s invitation to turn politically to the Fatimid side?

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The year of this remarkable shift must have been 430/1039, since al-Mu¢ayyad cites the date of Rama{ån 429/June 1038 as the starting point for his narrative of events. He begins with the episode of the Daylamí soldiers breaking the fast of Rama{ån in his own courtyard, an act which provoked the anger of the population and the ruler who regarded it as premature and a sacrilege. As noted, the då™í was summoned by the wazír and warned. After al-Mu¢ayyad had spent the winter in the town of Baså, the ruler gradually calmed down, thanks to the mediation of the wazír al-™Ådil. Surprisingly, shortly after his return, the former troublemaker was able to gain Abï Kålíjår’s favour. In fact, there are indications that political conditions could not have been better for al-Mu¢ayyad in that year and for the period to follow. Only some months before Rama{ån 429, Abï Kålíjår and his uncle Jalål al-Dawla had concluded a peace treaty, bringing to a close the open hostility that had raged about their territories and their political status in the capital of the caliph. Abï Kålíjår, who had tried to push through his aspirations to be the Bïyid supreme commander in Baghdad for more than a decade, now finally accepted Jalål al-Dawla’s authority in the capital.6 However, he was not ready to renounce the highest rank in the Bïyid political hierarchy, expressed in the old Persian honourable title of shåhånshåh (King of Kings). The Arabic version of the title, malik al-mulïk, was refused by the Caliph al-Qå¢im, based on an objection raised by Jalål alDawla, who was then himself officially paid homage with this title in the same year. But Abï Kålíjår did not accept this degradation and ignored the decision of the caliph. He took over the unauthorised title of shåhånshåh, had it announced at the Friday sermon in the mosque of his capital Shíråz, and from 430/1038 to 433/1042, had it minted on the coins circulating in his domains.7 In the context of our considerations, this means that Abï Kålíjår openly demonstrated his independence and autonomy from Baghdad during these few years. In fact, this period corresponds exactly with that of al-Mu¢ayyad’s short career as his teacher and religious-political adviser.

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But is it possible to establish a connection between Abï Kålíjår’s shift away from Baghdad and promotion of the Fatimid då™í to the rank of an adviser? Were there even any reasons for Abï Kålíjår to think about rapprochement with the Fatimid empire on the Nile? A possible explanation for this spectacular political turn is the political situation prevailing in the eastern areas of the Muslim world. Here, one alarming event followed another. The Oghuz Turkoman nomads had already conquered Khuråsån, the eastern Iranian province of Abï Kålíjår’s strong neighbours, the Ghaznavids. After the complete destruction of agricultural lands, they had occupied important towns and urban centres. Níshåpïr, the capital of the province, had fallen into the hands of the invaders without resistance in the early summer of 429/ 1038. Shortly later, ®oghril Beg, one of the leaders of the Saljïq clan, took office in the palace of the Ghaznavid ruler Mas™ïd in Shådyåkh near Níshåpïr. Two years later the Ghaznavid army was defeated in the battle of Dandånqån. Mas™ïd abandoned the prosperous country to its fate and withdrew to his territory in northern India.8 For the Saljïqs and their warriors the way westward was now open. Already before the fall of the Ghaznavid army, the Daylamí dynasty of the Kåkïyids had submitted. Now the Turkomans pushed forward into the central parts of Iran, where they destroyed the existing political order and its structures. After ®oghril Beg’s brother Ibråhím ìnål conquered Hamadån in western Iran in 433/1041–42, the central lands of the Abbasid caliphate were no longer protected, except by the mountainous border regions between Iraq and Iran. In 432/ 1040 at the latest, Abï Kålíjår must have realised the acute danger of the situation; for by then, after their successful conquest of the neighbouring province of Sístån southeast of his empire, the Turkoman cavalrymen stood at the border of his own province, Kirmån.9 In contrast to the rulers and generals of eastern and central Iran, all of whom were either conquered by the Turkomans or at least forced onto the defensive, the Fatimid government was

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able to achieve a series of outstanding foreign-political successes in these years. In 429/1037–38 Óalab (Aleppo), a major urban centre in northern Syria and strategic stronghold on the border to the Christian Byzantine empire, fell under direct control of Fatimid Egypt. A little more to the south, the Numayrid Bedouin rulers accepted the religious and political authority of the newly enthroned Fatimid Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir.10 Thus, at the beginning of the thirties, the whole of Syria, reaching to the river Euphrates in the east, was under Fatimid hegemony. A peace treaty with the Byzantine Emperor Michael IV had also set a temporary end to the continuous warfare along the northern borders. In view of the complete political breakdown beyond the eastern and southern borders of his territory, one can suspect that Abï Kålíjår must have become increasingly worried about these dangerous developments threatening the very foundations of his reign and empire. Searching for support and protection, he probably dared an imploring look at the Fatimid imperium in the west. Hence, al-Mu¢ayyad’s association with Abï Kålíjår, shortly after the end of winter 430/1039, can be considered as highly authentic and credible. Thus, the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad only had to grasp the opportunity offered to him by the favourable political situation. That he knew how to use this critical moment in a masterly manner is not only confirmed by his own report, but also by the historian Ibn al-Balkhí who, as we saw, was horrified at the strong influence the Ismaili missionary exerted on the Bïyid ruler. Soon after, al-Mu¢ayyad proposed that the first concrete steps towards a political alliance with the Fatimids be undertaken. But the pressure of the Sunni lobby pushed the government to curb the ambitious mediator. So, in all likelihood, al-Mu¢ayyad’s project of initiating friendship and co-operation between the Bïyid and Fatimid courts was doomed to failure from the very beginning. As soon as alMu¢ayyad’s star began to rise, the Sunni lobby, which had fallen out of favour with the ruler, railed against his new policy. These critics – al-Mu¢ayyad’s opponents – were probably adherents of

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the former official policy of maintaining loyalty to the caliph in Baghdad. From al-Mu¢ayyad’s account, we can assume that this lobby was backed by the majority, or at least a great section, of the population. The struggle for power inside the palace seems to have gone hand-in-hand with severe unrest in the streets of Shíråz, where the Sunni mob and the pro-Ismaili Daylamí soldiers were openly expressing their hostilities. In view of the strong Sunni opposition, Abï Kålíjår soon distanced himself from his new favourite. From now on al-Mu¢ayyad’s relationship with the Bïyid ruler vacillated between favour and rejection. This probably shows that his government was looking for a compromise between its own autonomous policy and the Sunni demands. Al-Mu¢ayyad connects the beginning of his political fall with the death of Abï Kålíjår’s wazír al-™Ådil in the year 433/1041– 42. Historians praise this Iranian politician as intelligent and far-sighted. Like many Bïyid wazírs, he was probably of Shi™i persuasion.11 As al-Mu¢ayyad recounts, al-™Ådil sided with the Daylamí soldiers during the escalating conflict with the Sunni lobby and the mob. In the following period he acted as the mediator between the då™í and the ruler. We can assume further that it was he who advised Abï Kålíjår to embark on a policy of openness towards Egypt and to establish contact with the local representative of the Fatimids, the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad. But after al-™Ådil’s death, the government’s political balancing act came to an end. His successor was a convinced orthodox Sunni official.12 Al-Mu¢ayyad therefore preferred to leave Shíråz and go to Ahwåz, the capital of Abï Kålíjår’s province Khïzistån which was, as he admits, a stronghold of the Daylamí soldiers. Here he obviously put everything at stake to force the issue. On his initiative the Daylamís loudly shouted their loyalty to the Fatimid caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir from the roof of the mosque. But it seems that the då™í had gone too far. Ibn al-Mushtarí,13 a colleague of the chief qå{í of Fårs, sent alarming reports to Baghdad about the då™í’s activities. The Abbasid caliph al-Qå¢im sent Ibn al-Muslima,14 who was later to become his wazír and to distinguish himself as a pioneer of

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the traditionalist movement and a bitter enemy of the Bïyids, to Shíråz. The letter from the caliph which Ibn al-Muslima brought with him is paraphrased by al-Mu¢ayyad in the Síra (pp.64f.). There is no reason to doubt the authenticity of this warning since it completely matches the spirit of the anti-Fatimid announcements published during the era of Sunni restoration in the chancellery of the Caliphs al-Qådir and al-Qå¢im. Also contained in these announcements was the controversial genealogy of the Fatimid Imams, a subject provoking attacks and polemics against the legitimacy of the dynasty. It is very plausible that the Abbasid caliph, in view of his regained authority and political power, demanded the ideological submission of the separatist Bïyid in a strict and decisive manner. Only shortly before, in a solemn official ceremony, he had republished the creed of his father al-Qådir which defined the Sunni dogma of the ‘People of the Sunna and the Community’ (ahl al-sunna wa¢l-jamå™a).15 Adherents of other religious persuasions were excluded as ‘unbelievers and heretics.’ The religious ceremonies of the Shi™a, differing from the orthodox rites, were also condemned (see our Introduction). We can thus understand why Abï Kålíjår submitted to the domestic and foreign political pressures exerted by the aggressive advocates of the Sunni caliphate. The mission undertaken by the Ismaili då™í failed due to an international political dynamic that far outweighed his own influence. He realised that this fact was irreversible when he heard, still in his asylum in Óillat Ibn Mazyad, of the death of Abï Kålíjår’s rival Jalål alDawla (in Sha™bån 435/March 1043). Since Abï Kålíjår was willing to seize military power in the Abbasid capital, nothing could have been more damaging to him than to be accused of connections with the Fatimid caliph and a friendly relationship with his emissary, the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad. As a matter of fact, Abï Kålíjår became supreme commander (amír al-umarå¢) in Baghdad six months later. During his reign, which was to last for four years, the lands of Iraq, Khïzistån, Fårs, Kirmån and ™Umån were reunited. The Arab leaders in

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northern and southern Iraq submitted to Bïyid political sovereignty, as did his allies in western Iran. In 437/1045 the first Saljïq units invaded Mesopotamia. Abï Kålíjår armed for war, but was forced to give up these preparations after an epidemic among their animals weakened his cavalry. In view of the inevitable danger he faced, he returned to Shíråz where the townspeople had already begun to build a protective wall against the invading force.16 Around this time, the exiled då™í al-Mu¢ayyad reached Egypt and began his struggle for recognition and reward. Sometime after his arrival, he claims to have received the message that his former enemies in Shíråz had been executed for conspiracy. The idealistic and indefatigable mediator al-Mu¢ayyad now wrote a letter to Abï Kålíjår. This must have been in 439/1048, not long after his much longed for audience with the Imam alMustan˚ir – referred to in the answer of Abï Kålíjår – and before the death of Abï Kålíjår less than a year later in Jumåda I 440/ September 1048. The letter of the Bïyid ruler is rendered verbatim by al-Mu¢ayyad. In it Abï Kålíjår recalls his close and intimate relationship with the då™í, and his efforts to protect his life against hostility and conspiracy. The sender also recalls his former allegiance to the Fatimid caliph and his interest in entering into a pact of friendship with his government. Abï Kålíjår now wants to revitalise this project. He asks al-Mu¢ayyad to draft the outlines of a Bïyid-Fatimid alliance with alMustan˚ir. In this context he points out that Egypt is also threatened by the Saljïq invasion. He emphasises that his hitherto successful defence against the aggressors has also been to the benefit of Egypt’s security (Síra, 76–78). Considering the political situation prevailing in these years, there is no reason to doubt that Abï Kålíjår could have written such a letter. But there is no other source giving us similar indication of the Bïyid ruler’s new initiative. Thus, the authenticity of the letter can neither be verified nor refuted. Here we come to the end of our historical analysis. The trace of the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad, comprehensible and reliable until now in the Síra, becomes murky and then vanishes. On the other hand, the

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letter could be a crucial element in a logic immanent to alMu¢ayyad’s report. We will seek to detect and pursue this logic in our literary analysis in the next chapter.

4 The Self-portrayal of a då™í

Al-Mu¢ayyad’s report of his mission in Shíråz is not only a historical source that believably relates the crucial political and human aspects of the era. There is also another level of meaning contained in al-Mu¢ayyad’s report. As we will presently see, it can also be considered as a missionary’s work-report and so as a reflection of the aims, ideals and ethical aspects of the Ismaili da™wa. The genre of Síra In the Fatimid Ismaili literary tradition, al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs are known under the title al-Síra al-Mu¢ayyadiyya. As the original meaning of síra means ‘course (or mode) of life,’ an exact translation of the title of our source is ‘The Mu¢ayyadan Course of Life.’ In Western scholarly literature, síra (pl. siyar) is, however, often rendered as ‘biography’ or ‘autobiography.’ The earliest and most famous work of the síra genre is the Sírat al-nabí (The Biography of the Prophet) by Mu˙ammad b. Is˙åq, the well-known Arabian historian of the 2nd/8th century. In his work the historical traditions about the vita of the Prophet are collected, arranged and shaped. But although Ibn Is˙åq 55

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clearly intended to portray the Prophet not as a saint but as a human being interacting with his family, his companions, friends and enemies, the work soon became known as an early and authentic collection of traditions showing the ‘Mu˙ammadan mode of life,’ not only in its purely biographical and historical aspects, but also in respect of its moral, exemplary and normative qualities. In the Ismaili literary tradition, there is a remarkable quantity of works that go under the síra title. Most of them deal with historical events in the life of the Imams, politicians or pioneers of the da™wa. These works do not have a specific literary form and their content is also quite different. The authors are mostly men who, due to their professional or private relationship to the person described, were also active participants in this very life as close observers or, indeed, directly as companions. Many of these works, therefore, give the impression of true-to-life, historical eyewitness accounts. Important examples of this genre – to name but a few – are the Sírat Ja™far al-Óåjib (The Memoirs of Ja™far the Chamberlain), the account of the adventurous exodus of Ja™far’s master, the first Fatimid Imam ™Abd Allåh al-Mahdí, from Salamiyya to Raqqåda in North Africa (see Chapter 1 above).1 Another important work on the same personage is the Sírat al-Imåm al-Mahdí, a biography written by the då™í Ibn al-Haytham. The author gives many details about political and military events during the reign of the Mahdí. Inserted into this work is the court correspondence kept in the archives of the second Fatimid capital al-Mahdiyya in today’s Tunisia.2 A more famous síra is the Sírat Ibn Óawshab, on the life and achievements of the da™wa hero and ‘Conqueror of Yemen,’ Man˚ïr al-Yaman, written by his son Ja™far on the basis of the oral account given by his father.3 A further important síra is the Sírat al-ustådh Jawdhar (The Síra of the Eunuch Jawdhar), a record and collection of documents of the political career of the slave Jawdhar who entered the service of the Caliph-Imam al-Mahdí as a young man in 297/909 and acquired several top positions in the Fatimid state later in his life. The author of the work is Jawdhar’s secretary, Abï ™Alí Man˚ïr al-

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Jawdharí who, like his master, was of slave origin.4 (A similar production of siyar is evident in the religious literature of the Ismaili Bohras in India since the 10th/16th century. Most of these works deal with the du™åt al-mu†laqïn, ‘the authorised du™åt,’ that is, the religious leaders of the Bohra community.)5 Due to their biographical character, siyar works were already understood as historical sources in the Ismaili tradition. The author of the extensive general history of Ismailism ™Uyïn alakhbår, the Yemeni då™í Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín (d. 872/1468), used the siyar as important historical and biographical sources. In modern research as well, siyar are mainly used from this viewpoint. However, an overall picture of the Ismaili siyar reveals the following common characteristics, and these should be considered in every critical analysis of a síra. All siyar are monographs on personages of political or religious significance. In general, a síra does not tell the whole life story or biography of a person, but only certain stages, such as a person’s political emergence, his career or his pioneering work in the da™wa. Other aspects of the person’s life, for instance his childhood and his family, usually remain in the dark. Also, the portrayal of a person’s character and intellect is often limited to the demonstration of outstanding virtues, abilities and skills. Other characteristics are not deemed worthy to be revealed. Therefore, a síra does not correspond to the Western understanding of a ‘biography’ or even ‘autobiography,’ one that portrays the character and development of an individual in their dialectical relationship with the surrounding world. A síra is, in contrast, a biographical work that only covers those events and character traits of a person which have political or religious significance. Therefore, the biographical and personal data in a síra reveal mostly normative and ideological values. Besides its status as a historical work, a síra can therefore also be considered a source reflecting one’s ideology at the time of its composition. The expression of Ismaili norms and values is also true for the Síra of the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad. Like most authors of this genre,

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he tells us nothing about his personal life or private circumstances, concentrating instead on a literary account of the experiences he went through while fulfilling his dangerous missions for the Fatimids. Even when writing about the farewell from his homeland and his flight to Egypt, he does not mention his family or beloved ones who most probably had to remain in Iran; he does not even speak about the pain he surely felt during that separation. In contrast to his Síra, however, the då™í gives intense expression to his homesickness and longing in numerous verses in his Díwån. We will quote only one moving example: I wept until weeping itself began to weep for me. Is it any wonder that weeping should weep For our loved ones? We are distanced from our hearts And our souls by their distance... May God watch over those (loved ones) whose meeting gladdened my heart, For no meeting has gladdened (me) after that meeting.6

In the Síra, on the other hand, al-Mu¢ayyad’s intention was not to write about the personal and emotional aspects of his adventures. Obviously he wanted to write a report of an official mission. Since he – as we will see in the following chapter – probably had intended to prove his talents, loyalty and motivation to his superiors in the da™wa, it is certainly not far-fetched to assume that he might have shaped his self-portrayal to his advantage. That this is precisely the case is confirmed by a small book which describes the professional requirements and ethics of the da™wa. Its title is Risåla al-mïjaza al-kåfiya fi adab al-du™åt (The Brief and Sufficient Epistle on the Code of Conduct and Etiquette of the Missionaries), written by al-Mu¢ayyad’s compatriot A˙mad b. Ibråhím al-Nísåbïrí (Naysåbïrí), a då™í in Cairo only a few decades before him during the reign of the Imams al™Azíz and al-Óåkim (around the turn of the 4th-5th centuries ah). The text belongs to the genre of adab literature that deals with codes of conduct and etiquette for different professional

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groups.7 We will summarise below some main points of interest concerning the ethics of the da™wa and qualifications of the då™i. (For a fuller rendition see Appendix 2). The addressees of al-Nísåbïrí’s epistle are the då™ís, the chief då™í (båb) at the side of the Imam, as well as the missionary (mukåsir) who works beyond the borders of the empire somewhere in a jazíra. Al-Nísåbïrí points out that all these activists of the da™wa should be aware of the conditions (shurï†) of the work undertaken for what has to be considered as one of the most noble, elevated and respected ranks in the religious hierarchy. God himself is a då™í, a ‘summoner,’ as stated in the Qur¢an: ‘Allah summons to the abode of peace and leads when He will to the straight path’ (10:25). God’s summons, continuously taken up by the Prophets, the Imams and då™ís, addresses all believers and wants to arouse desire in them to ‘strive for knowledge and to reach its (that is, the da™wa’s) rank’ (Risåla, 1–2).8 Al-Nísåbïrí wants to provide these dignitaries with all the information about the requirements demanded by the da™wa in terms of the ethical, religious, pedagogical and political aspects of their work. In most of the cases he introduces his demands with the formula: ‘It is the duty of the då™í... (wa yanbaghí li¢ldå™í).’ For the då™í, the three most important conditions, all of which themselves hold many further conditions, were accordingly: obedience to God (taqwå), authority (siyåsa) and knowledge (™ilm). These main conditions, subsequently deepened and set out in detail in the epistle, were relevant for all då™ís regardless of their specific rank in the hierarchy. Since al-Nísåbïrí’s epistle was specialist literature for everybody working in the da™wa, it is highly probable that al-Mu¢ayyad knew it very well.9 Considering his commitment and lofty ambitions, we can certainly imagine that he was eager to realise these ideals in his work. And it is noticeable that he wanted to prove to those he addresses in his Síra how he had constantly striven to meet the requirements and fulfil the ideals of his mission. The qualities of taqwå, siyåsa and ™ilm are the leitmotifs in the construction of al-Mu¢ayyad’s self-portrayal in the Síra.

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memoirs of a mission Taqwå (obedience)

According to al-Nísåbïrí (Risåla, 19f.), the term taqwå ‘means to know and to act with faith (yajma™u al-™ilm wa¢l-™amal ma™a¢li™tiqåd)’ in line with the orders and prohibitions of the Qur¢an. Taqwå towards God, the Only One and the Indescribable, is the foremost duty of a då™í. The prerequisite for his advancement in the da™wa hierarchy is, however, taqwå towards the authorities in the da™wa system. Taqwå also means to possess ‘all virtues and to refrain from all vices.’ Therefore, the då™í must exercise self-discipline. With self-discipline ‘he first brings his own person in order, guides it, brings it under control and prepares it for the struggle against all vices and physical desires, preventing the arousal of all despicable passions and everything that is prohibited.’ As craving and passion, says al-Nísåbïrí elsewhere in his Risåla, leads to an overestimation of the body at the expense of strength of character, it finally leads to miserliness and materialism (Risåla, 42). This brings corruption into the religious order. Since the då™í is obliged in his vows not to cheat the Imam in financial and religious matters, any display of corruptibility results in the annulment of his oath of allegiance and the office commissioned (Risåla, 41).10 Siyåsa (authority) To practise his taqwå in the right sense, al-Nísåbïrí maintains that the då™í must be in possession of reason (ra¢y) and intelligence (™aql) to a high degree (Risåla, 30). Furthermore, he must possess three forms of siyåsa: authority towards himself (siyåsatu¢l-khå˚˚a), authority in his home and family (siyåsatu¢l˙åmma, private authority), and authority in the public sphere (siyåsatu¢l-™åmma, public authority). For, as al-Nísåbïrí states, ‘authority is the basis of power’ (Risåla, 35). If a då™í is in possession of these leadership qualities, his task is to arrange and regulate affairs in the areas put under his control and personal responsibility. The Imam supports him with his knowledge and resources. The då™í has to cope with

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disobedience and rebellion, and if he neglects such troubles or is unable or too weak to solve these problems, he has to draw the consequences (Risåla, 63f.). He also has to be aware that the religious order is built on maintaining the secrets of religion from all those who have nothing to do with it; otherwise he risks the destruction of the community and the ruin of his jazíra (Risåla, 33). If a då™í is not able to manage any of his tasks, he has to confess his weakness so that somebody else can be delegated to take his place. In respect to public authority, al-Nísåbïrí demands that the då™í arrange the affairs of those he leads to their benefit, that he educates them in the spirit of religious law, that he keeps them away from vices, and that he inspires them to develop their virtues. During the course of their moral and religious education, he has to reward those who behave well and punish those who behave badly. If somebody suffers any form of injustice, he has to stand by their side, and if necessary, he has to represent them before the ruler (Risåla, 59). The då™í has to educate and admonish the believers. He has to resolve lawsuits occurring within the community, for although, he is neither their ruler nor judge, he is the bearer of an official post who is closest to the people. Whoever does not accept his judgement deviates from the right path (Risåla, 60). If necessary, the då™í can excommunicate them. But under no circumstances is he to be ill-disposed to the believers. He has to be neutral when conflict arises and avoid stirring up hatred. Everything he undertakes has to be well-considered, since the damage he might cause in the da™wa could be disastrous and ultimately irreparable (Risåla, 32f.). The då™í not only has to look after the Ismaili believers in his community. His work and mission extends to members of the Sunni community, amidst the higher as well as the lower levels of society. He should commit himself to the private and political needs of these people. When communicating, talking or even disputing with them, he should bring forth good arguments (Risåla, 22). This leads us to the third prerequisite of the då™í’s work.

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The basis for successful pedagogical and missionary work in and outside a då™í’s community is knowledge and science. AlNísåbïrí differentiates between exoteric (úåhir) and esoteric (bå†in) knowledge, that is, between general knowledge and secret Ismaili doctrines. He classifies exoteric knowledge as follows (Risåla, 14f.): law and principles of law; religious traditions on the Prophets and the Imams; the Qur¢an and its interpretation; preaching, tadhkír (admonishment); the legends of the pre-Islamic prophets; and dialectics and theological disputation. The categorisation of esoteric knowledge consists of three stages (Risåla, 16f.): knowledge perceptible through the senses (™ilm al-ma˙sïs), abstract knowledge (™ilm al-mawhïm), and logical knowledge (™ilm al-ma™qïl). This vertical order corresponds to the intellectual ripening process of the mustajíb, ‘the one who responds,’ that is, the trainee of the da™wa whose education al-Nísåbïrí explains briefly elsewhere in his epistle (Risåla, 47f.). The ™ilm al-ma˙sïs is for him ‘like the suckling of a little baby boy’ (Risåla, 16). It consists of the knowledge of the earthly ranks in the Ismaili hierarchy, such as the nå†iq (the ‘Speaker’ or Prophet), his legatee (wa˚í) and the Imam of the time.11 Furthermore, the ™ilm al-ma˙sïs contains knowledge of the interpretation of religious law (ta¢wíl al-sharí™a) and the wisdom this law contains. The ™ilm al-mawhïm covers fields that can only be comprehended through rationality, such as the heavenly ranks corresponding to God and the Intellects,12 and the knowledge of numbers. Finally, the ™ilm al-ma™qïl is the knowledge of the true meaning of things, their origin and final destination. It is the absolute truth, one that never changes. This level corresponds to the ‘bringing forth of the ratio’ by the scholar (Risåla, 16). Although only the Imam can be in possession of all these forms of knowledge, the då™í has to know and be familiar with at least some of the fundamentals in each of them (shayy¢an min u˚ïlihi) (Risåla, 18). He needs such knowledge, for example, to answer questions on religious belief. He needs to

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know the exoteric aspects of law, since he has to be experienced in the interpretation of law. The knowledge of the traditions reaching back to the religious authorities serves the då™í to underpin his arguments. Questions on the Qur¢an must be answered on both the exoteric as well as the esoteric levels. For the teachings addressed to his scholars, he has to be wellversed in the techniques of admonishment and the instructive legends of the Old Testament. Scholastic theology (kalåm) helps him to refute the arguments of his religious adversaries and to defeat them in disputation. If, on the other hand, the då™í suffers defeat, this causes great harm and humiliation (Risåla, 28f.). General education in natural sciences, geometry, mathematics, philosophy, history of religions and their differences (™ilm u˚ïl al-madhåhib wa ikhtilåfihim), enable him to distinguish between right and wrong and to show a complete commitment for truth and the unmasking of falsehoods (Risåla, 18). The message of al-Mu¢ayyad’s report Al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs of his mission in Shíråz give the impression that he has been able to comply with and fulfil the ideals of scholarly qualification and behaviour of a då™í entirely, as defined by al-Nísåbïrí. The characteristic features of his selfportrayal are taqwå, ™ilm and siyåsa, that is, his exhibition of pious obedience, knowledge and authority. So, throughout his report, al-Mu¢ayyad is eager to affirm that his mission in Shíråz was not defined by personal aims and reasons (Síra, 7, 14, 15, 62), but by his loyalty and subordination to his master, the Imam al-Mustan˚ir. Quoting himself (from a conversation with the wazír al-™Ådil), al-Mu¢ayyad relates how he has spent his life in modesty, reverence and piety, and endeavoured at all times to act in rectitude and honesty (Síra, 7). The reader cannot doubt that he was fully conscious about the religious meaning of his mission. As he once emphasises, his only intention was to maintain the beliefs of his forefathers, now misjudged in Shíråz, and to re-establish their former reputation (Síra, 14f.).

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Equally, al-Mu¢ayyad shows clearly that he is in possession of authority and responsibility when he describes his relationship with his community, consisting mainly of the Daylamí soldiers of Abï Kålíjår. Again and again he emphasises his unifying role among the believers, for whom al-Mu¢ayyad is ‘father, brother, friend,’ ‘as shelter for every secret and refuge in good as in bad’ (Síra, 10). It was under his leadership and with the energetic support of his community that new religious centres for the Fatimid da™wa were constructed in Baså and al-Ahwåz (Síra, 12, 55). Exactly as al-Nísåbïrí demands (Risåla, 58), al-Mu¢ayyad’s house is the vivid centre of the community where the religious assemblies (majålis) and feasts are held regularly (Síra, 5, 11, 61). The Daylamí military men come to al-Mu¢ayyad’s house to submit their complaints and seek consultation. Al-Mu¢ayyad is the ‘hand and tongue’ of the Daylamís (Síra, 58). Before the wazír al-™Ådil, he represents them as their leader and stands up for their interests (Síra, 8f.). For their part, the Daylamís show their support and solidarity with him when he is threatened by official repressions (Síra, 9f., 65, 73). Al-Mu¢ayyad knows that he can mobilise them whenever necessary; he can use this fact as a means for exerting pressure when negotiating with the wazír. Also, al-Mu¢ayyad leaves nothing to be desired in the field of knowledge and rhetorical skill. In his report he gives the impression that his skill in disputation with his dogmatic opponents was the key factor in convincing Abï Kålíjår of the superiority of his position (Síra, 16–43). Thereafter the ruler accepted him as an educator and teacher. The successful då™í could now satisfy his pupil’s thirst for knowledge in a weekly lesson (Síra, 43): ‘Whatever language or doctrine he wanted to hear of, I did not refuse. When he found my teaching superior, he had to reject their (the opponents’) claims.’ Al-Mu¢ayyad could, therefore, convince Abï Kålíjår of the truth of the Ismaili faith. The lessons usually ended with a ta˙míd – thanks to God and the religious authorities of the Ismailis – and a prayer for the Imam al-Mustan˚ir. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s self-por-

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trayal of his achievements thus seems to be a reflection of the ideal då™í defined by al-Nísåbïrí. In the då™í’s role as a teacher, al-Nísåbïrí demands from him solicitousness, goodness, compassion, patience and gentleness (Risåla, 29, 34). These are exactly the traits of al-Mu¢ayyad when he describes himself during his work as teacher of and adviser to his royal pupil. Further, al-Mu¢ayyad lets his readers know that his top qualifications were supplemented by various individual talents such as his tactical skills, eloquence and crafty finesse. As his report reveals, he knew very well how to put these qualifications and talents to good use for the benefit of the Imam. But al-Mu¢ayyad’s enemies were not idle and undertook all they could to jeopardise his pious endeavours. In the då™í’s report, they do not appear as political opponents, but are instead characterised as godless figures, like ‘the traitor,’ those envious persons and conspirators and – last but not least – the most despicable of all, Ibn al-Muslima, the messenger of the Abbasid caliph. All of them became active against him in order to undermine his success. Al-Mu¢ayyad depicts his struggle against these evil forces as that of an innocent, untiring, selfless and self-sacrificing human emissary of the divine order. Despite all the humiliation he suffers and the mortal dangers he is exposed to, he remains ever loyal and committed in rendering his services to the Imam. Altogether al-Mu¢ayyad lays great stress upon the depiction of his professional and personal qualities in the course of his narrative. Thus, he constructs the general image of a truly unique and indispensable då™í who is ready to devote his life, home and family to his higher mission. It could not have been his fault, he implies, that this mission ultimately failed and he finally had to give up Abï Kålíjår’s soul and friendship. Instead, the reader knows that the growing influence of the evil forces and the ruler’s sudden opportunity to become the Bïyid supreme commander in Baghdad were responsible for this failure. Thus, in the då™í’s report, every well-informed and learned Fatimid reader can draw the conclusion that the author had

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fully complied with the ethics of the da™wa and met its professional demands. This literary tendency of the text fits in very well with al-Mu¢ayyad’s situation in Egypt, where he felt the pressure of having to provide some proof of his talents and to explain the reasons for his failure in his homeland. Al-Mu¢ayyad ends his report by telling of a development that crowns his failed mission with a belated success. Already several years in Cairo, he allegedly received information to the effect that his enemies in Fårs had been assassinated because they were conspiring against the ruler (Síra, 75). In a personal message to him, Abï Kålíjår excuses himself and proposes that the då™í be the architect of a Bïyid-Fatimid alliance in the near future. On the literary level of al-Mu¢ayyad’s report, this ‘happy ending’ is a final proof of the legitimacy of his mission and its divine recognition by God. In its inner logic the story comes full circle and the promise of the Síra’s prologue is thus fulfilled. There, al-Mu¢ayyad announced that the result of the events holds miraculous religious knowledge. God’s intervention in this dramatic course of events proved true the da™wa of (the first Shi™i Imam) ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib, and – as can be concluded by the reader – also proved true the da™wa of the Imam al-Mustan˚ir, as well as the fact that nobody had performed in his shrine as loyally and selflessly as himself, the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí. Thus, the Síra’s subtext unfolds the sphere of norms and ideals of the Fatimid mission. Of course, the uncovering of this literary tendency in al- Mu¢ayyad’s Síra has consequences for any analysis of it as a historical source. Whenever other verifiable sources are lacking and the historical framework in which we could position the då™í collapses, we should treat the då™í’s memoirs with caution, since he clearly constructs the report of his mission in accordance with the high ideals of the da™wa.

5 Al-Mu¢ayyad at the Fatimid Court in Cairo

Al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí arrived in Cairo in 437/1045 or 438/1046, either the tenth or eleventh year of the reign of the Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir, who had been enthroned in Sha™bån 427/May 1036 as a seven-year-old boy by the venerable wazír al-Jarjarå¢í. Cairo was until then a city far removed from alMu¢ayyad’s everyday experience and existed only in his imagination. The section of the Síra dealing with his experiences there is introduced in the form of a letter to a faraway ‘brother,’ perhaps living in his homeland Fårs. Al-Mu¢ayyad politely thanks his intimate friend for a letter he had received from him. Then, as requested in this letter, he begins to narrate everything that has happened to him after his arrival in Egypt, the country where he has sought refuge, vacillating between hope and despair. He asks the addressee to consider all the information he gives as confidential and secret (Síra, 80). This part of al-Mu¢ayyad’s Síra covers events from the following twelve years, that is, the period between his arrival in Cairo and the Fatimid occupation of Óalab (Aleppo), which was a pinnacle in the Fatimid endeavour to build up a united 69

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front against the Saljïq invaders in northern Syria and Iraq under the direction of the plenipotentiary al-Mu¢ayyad. It was probably written during his stay in Aleppo between Íafar 449/ April 1057 and Rama{ån 450/October 1058.1 Disappointment and frustration As al-Mu¢ayyad begins his letter, he tells his anonymous friend of his conviction that he would receive in Cairo an appropriate reward for the unique service he had performed in Shíråz: ‘nobody than me had done such a service.’ But contrary to his expectations, it did not take long for him to discover ‘that the one I was aiming to,’ the Imam, was ‘a sun concealed by the curtain,’ that is to say, he was unable to gain access to him (Síra, 80). As soon as the då™í arrived in Cairo, he reports, he threw himself full of happiness upon the dust in front of the palace. After his prostration he was brought into an audience being held by the wazír al-Fallå˙í.2 Al-Mu¢ayyad describes the wazír as a distinguished and humane man who gave him a warm and honourable welcome. The new arrival was given a small but generously equipped middle-class house (Síra, 80f.). But his strongest wish, to meet the Imam, was not granted. Al-Mu¢ayyad did not take long to notice that the person who had appointed the wazír and was managing government affairs throughout the empire was a Jew, Abï Sa™d al-Tustarí by name. He tells us that al-Tustarí was visibly moved when he saw him. Next he introduced himself to Ibn al-Nu™mån, chief qå{í and då™í, and mediator to the Imam, as al-Mu¢ayyad was still in the service of the da™wa.3 But al-Mu¢ayyad found him incompetent and unqualified for his job. He soon realised that, as in Shíråz, the capital of the Imam was also housed by ‘devils in the form of human beings.’ They whispered in Ibn al-Nu™mån’s ear that he, al-Mu¢ayyad, could be a rival for his office and contrived to get rid of him. Even al-Tustarí soon came under the influence of these agitators. After he had promised al-Mu¢ayyad an audience with the Imam and an admission in his service, he suddenly turned away from him (Síra, 81–83).

the fatimid court in cairo 71 Thus, for the first time, al-Mu¢ayyad came up against forces setting limits on his ambitions, namely those anchored in the political conditions prevailing at the Fatimid court. He informed al-Tustarí about his intention to return to his hometown Shíråz. While talking to him, al-Mu¢ayyad also expressed his protest at the Imam’s limited political power. Al-Tustarí became very furious at these open words and denied the critic permission to leave Cairo (Síra, 83). Confronted with the political reality at the Fatimid court, alMu¢ayyad’s idealistic notions about the theocratic order at the heart of the Imam’s empire turn out to have been an illusion. As historical sources tell us, immediately after the coronation of the young al-Mustan˚ir, his mother had begun to support alTustarí as the leader of her ministry (díwån). Al-Tustarí was a Jewish merchant who once had sold al-Mustan˚ir’s mother, a black slave, to the harem of his father al-ùåhir. After the death of the old wazír al-Jarjarå¢í, she managed to gain a dominating influence over government affairs via al-Tustarí. Shortly before al-Mu¢ayyad’s arrival, al-Tustarí appointed al-Fallå˙í as wazír. An era of relative stability had come to an end. From now on there was to be a rapid succession of wazírs. The ‘ugly incidents’ that were to take place under the reign of al-Mustan˚ir had begun.4 Further developments: the years 439–442/1047–1051 In Jumåda I 439/October 1047, Abï Sa™d al-Tustarí was killed by Turkish soldiers (Síra, 84).5 Al-Mu¢ayyad obviously knew how to use the vacuum of power that had emerged in the government following his death, for he asked the wazír al-Fallå˙í to arrange an audience with the Imam. Thanks to the recommendation given by the friendly wazír, al-Mu¢ayyad was at last able to present himself before the throne of al-Mustan˚ir on the last day of Sha™bån 439 (February 18, 1048). He describes his first audience with the Imam as an overwhelming experience (Síra, 85f.):

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My eyes had barely fallen on him when awe took hold of me and reverence overcame me; and it appeared to me as though I was standing in front of the Messenger of God and the Commander of the Faithful (™Alí) – may God’s blessings be upon them, and (that I was) facing their countenances. I tried, when I fell to the earth prostrating for the master of prostration and the one worthy of it, to make my tongue intercede with him in a goodly manner by its speech, and I found it bound by the tongue-tiedness of awe, and isolated from the virtue of eloquent speech. When I lifted my head from the prostration and gathered my clothes about me in order to sit, I saw a finger signalling me to rise for someone present in that place, and the Commander of the Faithful – may God perpetuate his kingdom – frowned with his face at him in rebuke. I had not raised my head by (the signal) nor accorded it any value. I stayed in his (the Imam’s) presence for an hour, my tongue not rising to speech nor finding the way to words, and each time those present tried to get me speak, I increased in tongue-tiedness and in storming up the steep hill of stammering, and he – may God perpetuate his kingdom – kept saying, ‘Let him be until he calms down and becomes accustomed.’ Then I arose, took his noble hand and kissed it and placed it upon my eyes and breast, and bade farewell and left.6

Backed by al-Fallå˙í’s recommendation, from now on alMu¢ayyad was permitted to continuously visit the Imam. But just a couple of months later, the political situation changed once again: the new head of the díwån of al-Mustan˚ir’s mother, the Sunni qå{í al-Yåzïrí,7 had al-Mu¢ayyad’s privilege cancelled. His patron, the wazír al-Fallå˙í, was subsequently dismissed to be replaced by Abu’l-Barakåt al-Jarjarå¢í,8 who was hostile towards him. Al-Mu¢ayyad was condemned to assuming a passive role and felt that he was surrounded only by enemies and evil persons. Disillusioned by this setback, he once again asked for permission to leave the country. This time, his application was granted. (Síra, 86– 89). Just as he was getting ready to leave Cairo, however, there arose an unexpected opportunity for al-Mu¢ayyad which obliged him to remain in the country. As it turned out the despicable

the fatimid court in cairo 73 wazír al-Jarjarå¢í dismissed the chief qå{í and då™í Ibn al-Nu™mån and transferred both offices to al-Yåzïrí. Al-Mu¢ayyad was outraged at such a scandal: how could a Sunni qå{í assume responsibility for the most sacred Ismaili office, the da™wa? For him, this was a sin and an absurdity. But although he was very suspicious and did not trust al-Yåzïrí at all, he accepted the qå{í’s call to assist him behind the scenes. Al-Mu¢ayyad was to write for him the majålis al-˙ikma (sessions of wisdom) the sermons al-Yåzïrí now had to deliver every Thursday night in front of the royal elite (Síra, 89). The majålis (as will be shown in detail in the last chapter) were weekly sermons, to be carefully composed and thought out by the chief då™í on the basis of texts of the Ismaili tradition. He selected and interpreted his text according to an actual occasion, such as a religious festival or an important political event, and read it in the Royal Palace (on Thursdays) and the Friday Mosque of al-Azhar (on Fridays). Beforehand they were presented to the Imam who approved and released them for a public audience. The majålis can thus be considered a public forum reflecting the official position of the state on religious and political matters. For over a year al-Mu¢ayyad now created the ‘embroideries of words’ that al-Yåzïrí preached in the religious assemblies as if they were his own. Al-Mu¢ayyad gave his best in composing the sermons and the co-operation with al-Yåzïrí proceeded smoothly. This, however, incurred the displeasure of the wazír al-Jarjarå¢í who suspected al-Mu¢ayyad of trying to reach the Imam via al-Yåzïrí. But before the wazír could undertake anything against him, he was overthrown and al-Yåzïrí decided to take over the wazírate himself. Al-Mu¢ayyad proudly admits his participation in this coup (Síra, 89–91). Now, at last, alMu¢ayyad appeared to have reached his goal: who else than he, the real author of the majålis, could become the successor as chief då™í? But he was mistaken, for al-Yåzïrí appointed the lethargic Ibn al-Nu™mån, who – as mentioned above – had already been dismissed just a year before. Al-Yåzïrí justified this choice before the embittered al-

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Mu¢ayyad by citing political obligations to, and pressures exerted by, the ‘old women’ from the families of the former Imams al-Óåkim and al-™Azíz in the palace. According to him, they were pressing for keeping the da™wa in the hands of the Nu™mån family. Al-Mu¢ayyad did not believe this and considered it to be a mere excuse. He openly reproached al-Yåzïrí, claiming that he only wanted to keep him distant from the Imam. Al-Yåzïrí was probably afraid that al-Mu¢ayyad would disclose to the Imam the awkward facts about what was actually going on in the government (Síra, 91). Following this setback, al-Mu¢ayyad’s emotional and material situation worsened once again, and he was forced to continuously press al-Yåzïrí to improve his lot. Al-Mu¢ayyad soon realised that al-Yåzïrí was merely putting him off with delaying tactics and would never keep the promises he gave, and so the tension between them heightened. In a hard verbal exchange, he attacked al-Yåzïrí for not complying with the tasks and ethics demanded by his high office. Al-Mu¢ayyad then decided to stay away from the wazír for a period of at least seven months (Síra, 92). Appointment to the chancery In Dhu’l-Qa™da 443/March 1052, al-Yåzïrí waged a successful military expedition against the revolting Bedouin tribe Banï Qurra. Al-Mu¢ayyad was persuaded by his friends to join the crowds in offering their congratulations to al-Yåzïrí. Soon afterwards, al-Yåzïrí appointed him head of the díwån al-inshå¢, that is, the Chancery, the state office for writing and archiving official letters, edicts and documents. According to the historian al-Qalqashandí, this office was one of the highest in the Fatimid state administration.9 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s salary was increased accordingly (Síra, 92f.). Soon after taking this position, a new opportunity for appointment to the leadership of the da™wa emerged when Ibn al-Nu™mån, the chief då™í, finally died. Everybody was convinced that al-Mu¢ayyad’s great hour had now come. But, once again,

the fatimid court in cairo 75 he did not get the position. Al-Yåzïrí passed it on to his own son, who was willing to do whatever his father ordered (Síra, 93). Thus, the refugee då™í from the east, who felt the call to become the leader of the Fatimid da™wa and had resolutely pursued this ambition, had become – completely contrary to his own endeavours and expectations – the leader of the díwån al-inshå¢. As he tells us, he assumed this office in 443/1052 due to the gracious act of the conciliatory wazír al-Yåzïrí. He was to hold this office until 448/1056 when another mission – his journey to northern Syria in order to initiate negotiations with the Turkish rebel al-Basåsírí – was to distance him even further from his real aim. It was probably in these years of his leadership in the Chancery that al-Mu¢ayyad recorded his recollections on his mission in Fårs. He was not happy during this time. The leitmotif in his account of this first decade at the Fatimid court is his disappointment. His hopes for a great career as chief då™í had been crushed time and again. Now, after the appointment of alYåzïrí’s son to the position, he seemed to have understood that his ambitious plans could never be realised. Certainly he accepted the new task assigned to him in the díwån al-inshå¢, but he never stopped reproaching al-Yåzïrí: ‘You did not grant me a favour with what you gave me. What you refused me weighs more’ (Síra, 94). In the second part of the Síra, al-Mu¢ayyad not only expresses dissatisfaction about his personal situation – the traps and jealous manoeuvres which barricaded access to his ideals – the då™í from Iran also reveals his anger about the conditions he was confronted with at the Fatimid court. Criticising this state of affairs, he adopted at the same time a political position. He saw through the political intrigues and constraints that surrounded the Imam and reduced him to a powerless figurehead of state. Clearly, it could not have been in the interest of those profiting from this situation to support al-Mu¢ayyad’s wish to achieve an influential office at the side of the Imam. The då™í would then have worked towards ending this detestable state

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of affairs and undermined their own power and status in the government. Qa˚ída: the då™í laments his misfortune During his first ten years in Cairo, al-Mu¢ayyad again and again gave expression to his frustration and disillusionment in a series of poems. In the following verses, he is complaining about the ingratitude of the Fatimid officials: I made licit the sanctuary of my blood for them, and because of them, I lost my youth and the spring of my life. And when I came to them as a knowledgeable man, patiently enduring The good, when it comes to him, as well as the bad, Speaking out and acting for their fealty, Expending good counsel in secret and (in) public, ‘They wasted me, and what a youth they wasted For a day of adversity and the closing of a breach.’10 If Fate would not diminish my fortune, They would not have denied my fortune and my value. Yes, they know I am one who obeys Religion, When other(s) obey long robes and rags. If they had unsheathed my sword, they would have seen it Splitting and cutting the jugular veins of the enemy. And I would have perfumed on the body of Religion Garments that no perfumer can perfume. So that I relieve the drought of Egypt – but that is innovation, When there is Joseph in the land of Egypt!11

Al-Mu¢ayyad connects his own misfortune in Egypt with the work of jealous and power-hungry officials reigning at the Fatimid court. Again and again he expresses hope that the Imam al-Mustan˚ir himself would show concern for his fate and

the fatimid court in cairo 77 improve his situation. We can thus assume that, by writing down in his Síra the remarkable and moving story of his commitment for the Fatimid cause in Shíråz, al-Mu¢ayyad was indeed trying to win the Imam’s attention. It was his intention to convince al-Mustan˚ir that he, more than anybody else, possessed both the competence and loyalty needed for assuming the leadership of the sacred da™wa. At the same time the då™í was suggesting that if he were vested with high office and power, he would do his utmost to restore the power and dignity of the caliphate.

6 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s Political Mission in Northern Syria

Al-Mu¢ayyad’s report now surprisingly shifts from the scenes of power struggle at the Fatimid court in Cairo to the political turmoil accompanying the violent change from Bïyid military sovereignty to Saljïq dominance at the Abbasid court in Baghdad (Síra, 96–184). After our author’s promotion to the rank of plenipotentiary of the Fatimid state in northern Syria, he became an active participant in the far-reaching developments resulting from the political transition in the Abbasid realm between the years 448–450/1056–1058. Although alMu¢ayyad’s record – in fact, a collection of letters and contracts inserted into a chronologically arranged narrative frame – does not capture all the various political relationships and their background, his testimony, drawing its power from being at the very heart of events, is of particular interest to scholars concerned with the dynamics of this dramatic political change. As the section in question is a documentation of the successes and setbacks he experienced in the course of trying to establish a Fatimid alliance against the Saljïqs, it is completely different in style and theme from the preceding sections of al-Mu¢ayyad’s

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political mission in northern syria 79 memoirs. But just like the first part of the work, dedicated to the events at the Bïyid court more than a decade before, it sheds light on the lively stage of transnational political developments of the century. Moreover, the Fatimid perspective of the author is a highly valuable extension to the historiography emerging from the Abbasid sphere.1 In giving a summary of al-Mu¢ayyad’s meticulous and detailed account, we will concentrate exclusively on the historical level. As in the preceding chapters, our intention is to show and to understand al-Mu¢ayyad’s life and achievements within both the micro- and macro-political dynamics of his age. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s negotiations with al-Basåsírí In the years he was directing the Fatimid chancery, officials became more and more concerned about the violent incursions of Turkomans into the central Islamic lands. In 446/1054 the military leader of the Oghuz Turkoman tribes, ®oghril Beg from the Saljïq clan, had occupied the town of Rayy in northern Iran and was next setting his sights on Baghdad. Even more alarming for the Egyptians were the rumours about an alleged military alliance between ®oghril Beg and the Byzantine emperor against the Fatimids (Síra, 94f.). Under the impression of these dangerous developments, alMu¢ayyad wrote a letter to ®oghril Beg’s minister ™Amíd al-Mulk al-Kundurí in Rayy. We can date this initiative to the spring 447/1055.2 The då™í tried to persuade the Persian official to risk a personal shift to the Fatimid side. Since he got no response, al-Mu¢ayyad started a second initiative and wrote to Abu’l-Óårith al-Basåsírí, leader of the Turkish troops in Baghdad, who probably had Shi™i leanings.3 His most powerful political enemy was the wazír Ibn al-Muslima, who more than twelve years before had prompted al-Mu¢ayyad’s expulsion from Fårs (see Chapter 2). By this time Ibn al-Muslima was continuing to plot against the Bïyids. Already three years before, he had summoned ®oghril’s Oghuz bands to Óulwån, a town situated at the natural entrance gate to Mesopotamia in the Zagros

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range north-east of Baghdad. Now he was negotiating with ®oghril Beg about a takeover of the capital. As Ibn al-Muslima stirred up the Abbasid caliph al-Qå¢im and the Turkish soldiers against the Bïyids, initiating the pillage and burning of alBasåsírí’s house, the latter fled from Baghdad to Ra˙ba on the Euphrates.4 On receiving no reply to his letter to al-Basåsírí, al-Mu¢ayyad decided to undertake a pilgrimage to Mecca. Meanwhile in Rama{ån 447/December 1055, ®oghril Beg entered Baghdad where he was warmly welcomed by the caliph. Some days before, the Friday sermon in the capital had already been held in his name. A few weeks later the last Bïyid, Abï Kålíjår’s son alMalik al-Ra˙ím, was deprived of power, thus ending the era of Bïyid sovereignty. The movement of Sunni restoration, that had once caused the misfortune of our då™í al-Mu¢ayyad in Fårs, had achieved its most important goal, that of removing the Shi™i Bïyids from power and reinstalling orthodox Sunni hegemony after 110 years of broadly liberal and pluralist Islamic politics. Nonetheless, ®oghril Beg had not yet gained complete political power in 447. To follow what happened during the next four years, we will return to the historical course of the events as related by al-Mu¢ayyad and other sources.5 In the Síra we find out that al-Mu¢ayyad made a second attempt to contact alBasåsírí which finally proved to be successful. The expelled Turkish opponent of the Saljïqs accepted al-Mu¢ayyad’s offer of Fatimid money, horses and weapons. As we know, in return he promised to prevent the Saljïqs from pushing into Fatimid territory in Syria and Egypt (Síra, 96).6 The expedition to northern Syria Al-Mu¢ayyad was horrified when he was told by the Fatimid wazír al-Yåzïrí that nobody else but he was to lead the convoy of supplies to al-Basåsírí. His arguments against this dangerous expedition did not impress his master. Even the fact of his age – he must have been 63 or 64 years old – and his weak physical

political mission in northern syria 81 condition held no weight. The Imam al-Mustan˚ir himself acknowledged his note of protest, signing it without further comment. Thus, al-Mu¢ayyad embarked on his fateful journey. At his farewell audience before the Imam, he expressed his old persistent sadness and dissatisfaction about his humiliating treatment in Egypt. In response, the Imam smiled warmly and expressed confidence in the success of this important mission. Comforted by these words, al-Mu¢ayyad left Cairo in an optimistic mood (Síra, 96–100). The date of his departure to join the anti-Saljïq rebellion was Íafar 448 (1056).7 He would stay in northern Syria for around two years. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s task was diverse and difficult: first, he was to take the oath of loyalty to the Fatimids from al-Basåsírí and the chiefs in his army; secondly, he was to convince the Syrian and Mesopotamian Bedouin amirs and princes, all of them quite unreliable and constantly changing sides and alliances, to form a common front with the Fatimids and al-Basåsírí, with the ultimate aim of capturing Baghdad; and thirdly, he was to direct these united forces under the command of al-Basåsírí against the Saljïqs in the border region between Syria and Iraq. Already during the first stage of his journey, as he moved northwards through the western strip of Palestine and Syria, al-Mu¢ayyad gained success. Ignoring the orders of the wazír al-Yåzïrí, he established contact with the Syrian ruler, the Mirdåsid prince Thimål b. Íåli˙, who had broken with the Fatimids only a few years before (Síra, 100–104). 8 Now al-Mu¢ayyad was able to win him again as an ally. In Thimål’s capital Aleppo, he took the oath from him and some of alBasåsírí’s military chiefs who had already journeyed to meet him halfway on his route (Síra, 107f.). Next he established contacts with several Arab and Kurdish rulers east of Aleppo. From the ruler of Diyår Bakr, the Marwånid A˙mad b. Marwån, he received a letter with a positive reply (Sira, 108f.). However, his attempt to win over the Numayrid Ibn Waththåb of Óarrån failed (Sira, 119f.). Accompanied by the leaders of his alliance, among them the amirs of the Syrian tribe of Banï Kilåb, the Fatimid

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plenipotentiary moved further on to Ra˙ba at the Euphrates. Here, in the north-eastern frontier region of the Abbasid empire, al-Basåsírí and his military following were already waiting, as were also the leaders of the Arab and Kurdish tribes of the region. After presenting them with splendid Egyptian robes of honour, al-Mu¢ayyad took the oath of allegiance for the Fatimid al-Mustan˚ir and distributed large amounts of money as a reward for their loyalty and commitment to the Egyptian cause in the forthcoming political campaign. In a solemn ceremony he then took the oath from al-Basåsírí and read the official text of his investiture (Síra, 122–124) in front of the members of the new anti-Saljïq alliance. Still another local ruler joined this impressive coalition: the Mazyadid Dubays b. Mazyad from Óilla, south of Baghdad. Only the old ™Uqaylid leader from Mosul, Quraysh b. Badrån, who went over to the Fatimids several times in his life,9 now remained on the Saljïq side (Síra, 124–130). Occasioned by Quraysh’s refusal, al-Mu¢ayyad’s alliance initiated its first and only triumphant military encounter. The united forces of al-Mu¢ayyad and al-Basåsírí inflicted a complete defeat upon Quraysh’s army, which was backed by large Saljïq forces sent out by ®oghril Beg, at Sinjår, west of Mosul, in Shawwål 448/December 1056. Thanks to the overwhelming success of the anti-Saljïq coalition, the rulers of the cities of Kïfa and Wåsi† changed sides to the Fatimids (Síra, 135– 137). The turncoat Quraysh once again joined the alliance. Thus, in the mosques of the north and even far to the south of the Abbasid capital, the khu†ba was delivered in the name of the Fatimid Imam al-Mustan˚ir. Another historical source tells us that even coins were minted in his name.10 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s micro-political perspective of the events meant that he was unable to perceive that his victory at Sinjår, which he reported in a triumphant message to Cairo (Síra, 131–133), was nothing more than a small and quite insignificant military episode in the continuous process of Saljïq conquest of northern Iraq. From his carefully documented report from the front, the impression arises that the Arab and Kurdish leaders were

political mission in northern syria 83 not aware of the real extent of the Saljïq threat. Indeed, it would seem that these local amírs were enticed by generous Egyptian financial support and gifts. Al-Mu¢ayyad again and again complains that they fulfilled their military obligations only half-heartedly. Not surprisingly, therefore, as soon as ®oghril Beg’s military forces were sent out into the region undergoing upheaval, most of the amírs again changed sides in favour of the Saljïqs (Síra, 140f.). Undeterred by the shifting loyalties of the tribal leaders, alMu¢ayyad tried for more than a year to re-forge the pro-Fatimid alliance. Again he wrote, without success, to the Saljïq wazír al-Kundurí, who had swayed his allies to join the enemy. The exchange of letters with the Bedouin leaders and al-Kundurí is documented in the Síra (142–169). In early 449/1057, when ®oghril Beg’s brother Ibråhím ìnål occupied Mosul, al-Mu¢ayyad decided to leave his headquarters in Ra˙ba and retreat to Aleppo. The då™í was still in close contact with al-Basåsírí. Returning once to Aleppo after a meeting with him, he found that its leader Thimål had lost control over the town. As al-Mu¢ayyad proudly writes, he personally succeeded in calming down its people with a sermon in the mosque. In this way he was able to keep the populace within the sphere of the Fatimid government (Síra, 171–174). Al-Mu¢ayyad stayed one and a half years in Aleppo. A reconstruction of events shows this was from Íafar 449/April 1057 until Rama{ån 450/October 1058. The town came under the control of an Egyptian officer during this period.11 While in Aleppo, al-Mu¢ayyad wrote the second part of the Síra, the continuation of the letter to an intimate friend far away (see Chapter 5), that covers the events from his arrival in Cairo until the Fatimid occupation of Aleppo. Al-Mu¢ayyad ends this account with an expression of thanksgiving (ta˙míd) to God and the Fatimid Imams, which marks a clear break between the second part of the Síra and a postscript that opens with short introductory remarks and another ta˙míd (Síra, 174). This last part, obviously written after 454/1062,12 deals mainly with the betrayal of ®oghril Beg’s half-brother Ibråhím ìnål, as

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well as al-Basåsírí’s sensational occupation of Baghdad and the triumphant sound of the Fatimid khu†ba and the Shi™i call to prayer in the capital and across the whole country of Iraq.13 First, al-Mu¢ayyad reports with irony how he dealt with a messenger of Ibråhím ìnål, by then ®oghril Beg’s governor in Mosul. ìnål’s rivalry with ®oghril Beg had led to an open rebellion by him. Obviously he considered coordinating his revolt with the anti-Saljïq movement of al-Basåsírí.14 Al-Mu¢ayyad writes that he pretended to take the messenger seriously. He made him believe that he accepted his proposal to support the dissident with Egyptian military aid against ®oghril Beg. But after ìnål’s messenger left, al-Mu¢ayyad sent him a bill for the food and lodging he had enjoyed in Aleppo (Síra, 175f.). Ibråhím ìnål then tried to carry out his revolt without the Egyptians. He left Mosul in Rama{ån 450/October-November 1058, and reached the Saljïq military base Hamadån in western Iran in the same month. There he was besieged and killed by ®oghril Beg in Jumåda II 451 (July 1059).15 ìnål’s departure from nearby Mosul to Hamadån offered a good opportunity for al-Mu¢ayyad to start his return journey to Cairo. Before he left he ordered al-Basåsírí, who was allegedly willing to accompany him to Egypt, to support Ibn Badrån’s re-occupation of Mosul. He promised to send him money and supplies annually. After Tyros, heading southward, al-Mu¢ayyad received a threefold sealed letter from Cairo informing him that Abu’l-Faraj al-Maghribí had been appointed wazír.16 In this and two subsequent letters he received the strict order to return to Aleppo. Although aware that he was not welcome in Cairo, he nevertheless decided to continue his journey to Egypt. After all, he reasoned, he had risked his life and achieved much in the course of a highly dangerous mission. When al-Mu¢ayyad entered Cairo, he felt ‘like one vanquished, not one who has vanquished; (like) one broken, not one who has broken; like one defeated, not one who has defeated.’ And once again, he was to go through the bitter experience of having received ‘the opposite and inverse of what I had hoped for in terms of advancement and enhancement

political mission in northern syria 85 and elevation to the height of the Pleiades’ (Síra, 178).17 As we will see in the final chapter, al-Mu¢ayyad’s chain of defeats and misfortunes was soon to come to an end. The capture of Baghdad On the last pages of the Síra, al-Mu¢ayyad gives a summary of al-Basåsírí’s spectacular but brief occupation of the Abbasid capital Baghdad (Síra, 178–184).18 The Turkish general took the opportunity of ®oghril Beg’s absence from Baghdad while besieging ìnål in Iran. He entered and occupied the city with only a few hundreds of his soldiers. Al-Mu¢ayyad presents the conquest of Baghdad as the city’s liberation from the Abbasid caliph, his wazír Ibn al-Muslima and the Saljïq occupation. He proudly relates the declaration of Fatimid sovereignty and describes in detail the painful manner in which Ibn al-Muslima was put to death by al-Basåsírí. He tells of the further fate of the caliph who was removed from the palace and sent into exile to the town al-Óadítha on the Euphrates, where he became a mere plaything and object of negotiation between the amírs of Iraq. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s postscript then delves deeper into the fate of al-Basåsírí, who fled during the Saljïq re-conquest of the town. Pursued by one of ®oghril Beg’s armies, he died of an arrow shot by one of his personal enemies (Síra, 183, 179).19 Although his death was tantamount to the end of the year-long Fatimid intermezzo in Baghdad, the last lines of the Síra are a triumphant celebration of the victory of al-Mustan˚ir’s da™wa in the city of the Abbasids. After citing the Qur¢an – ‘Verily, We have written in the Psalms after the reminder (to Moses): “My righteous servants shall inherit the earth”’ (21:105) – al-Mu¢ayyad’s Síra ends with a ta˙míd of thanksgiving. Al-Basåsírí’s occupation of Baghdad, which probably was at least in the beginning supported by the Fatimid government, lasted a year, from Dhu’l-Qa™da 450/December 1058 to Dhu’lQa™da 451/December 1059.20 Southern Iraq and its cities of Wåsi† and Kïfa as well as the Sawåd had already come under Fatimid rule three years earlier (Síra, 135f.). Thus, the Fatimids

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not only conquered the region where the Ismaili movement first emerged in the 3rd/9th century, but also won the heartlands of their arch-enemy’s empire. The well-informed Yemeni då™í mu†laq Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín provides a brief supplement to al-Mu¢ayyad’s short but lively report of al-Basåsírí’s adventure in Baghdad with an interesting reference in the seventh volume of his comprehensive historiographical compilation ™Uyïn al-akhbår. Idrís comments that the failure of the year-long Fatimid enterprise in Baghdad and Iraq went back to a ‘disagreement of the ministers’ (ikhtilåf al-wuzarå¢) which led to a fatigue (tawåníhim) in maintaining their support. Further, according to Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, the Imam al-Mustan˚ir became reluctant to continue the enterprise when he realised – after the Abbasid caliph’s return from exile, the death of al-Basåsírí and the renewed strength of ®oghril Beg – that the Abbasid regime was not extinguished after all but continued to exist. The Yemeni author draws comfort, however, from the fact that the sacred Ismaili knowledge and tradition, which he had learned from his ancestors and was drawn from ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib and the Prophet Mu˙ammad, had been transmitted to Baghdad.21 Thus, he considers the Fatimid intermezzo in Iraq, despite its rapid and predictable end, to have been an unprecedented and magnificent triumph of the Ismaili da™wa and history.

7 Al-Mu¢ayyad as Chief då™í in Cairo

Upon his return to Cairo after the end of his political mission in Syria, al-Mu¢ayyad appeared once again to receive little recognition for the selfless devotion with which he had worked for the prosperity and welfare of the Fatimid empire and its Caliph-Imam. We do not know the reasons for the wazír Abu’lFaraj al-Maghribí’s ingratitude towards the då™í. But al-Mu¢ayyad’s refusal to obey his order to return to Aleppo might be one explanation for the unexpected cool reception he received at the royal court. Eventually, however, al-Mu¢ayyad began to be appreciated and his work to be recognised. After a phase in which he suffered accusations and felt frustrated, his fate suddenly turned for the better and took the course he had always wished for. The threshold for this new era in his life was an audience with the Imam al-Mustan˚ir who responded generously to his desperate request and allowed him to enter the royal reception hall. There, al-Mustan˚ir gave his devoted and expectant servant a warm and friendly welcome. Moreover, the Imam recited a qa˚ída from his own pen that praised al-Mu¢ayyad’s knowledge and unique competence:1

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O ˙ujja who is famous among the people, (O) towering mountain of knowledge that has incapacitated its climber: Our doors were not locked to you Except due to a hurtful, disturbing cause. And we have not veiled (ourselves from) you from loathing; so trust In our affection, and return to the worthier (path). We were worried for your heart if you heard it, And our shunning was the shunning of a concerned father. Our followers have lost their right guidance, In the West, O companion, (and) the East. So spread among them what you will of our knowledge, And be for them the concerned parent. Even though you’re the last in our da™wa, You have surpassed the compass of the earlier (då™ís). The like of you cannot be found among those who have gone, From all the people, nor those that remain.

Information is scarce about the last quarter of al-Mu¢ayyad’s life and career. Our main source for the period after his return from his mission in Syria is the most significant compilation of Ismaili history, the ™Uyïn al-akhbår by the Yemeni då™í and historian Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín (d. 872/1468), who based his work not only on Ismaili but also Sunni sources. Idrís is now considered as one of the most important historians of the da™wa. He was the 19th ‘authorised då™í’ (då™í mu†laq) of the ®ayyibí Musta™lí community in Yemen before the transfer of its leading political and religious offices to India (see below).2 From Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín we learn that soon after al-Mu¢ayyad received the qa˚ída of the Imam, his wish finally came true: he was appointed båb al-abwåb (Supreme Gate), the highest religious rank in the Ismaili da™wa hierarchy directly under the Imam. The båb al-abwåb was the official spokesman and mediator of the Imam in religious matters. Since he was also the chief då™í, his position is often referred to in non-Ismaili sources as

chief då™í in cairo 91 då™í al-du™åt.3 From now until the end of his life twenty years later, with only one short interruption, al-Mu¢ayyad remained the administrative head of the Ismaili da™wa within the Fatimid state, as well as the coordinator of its religio-political activities in the provinces abroad. For a brief period, between 453/1061 and 454/1062, alMu¢ayyad seems to have been exiled to Jerusalem (al-Quds) for unknown reasons. The only reproach that is known to us is that the wazír Ibn al-Mudabbir accused him of ‘stuttering.’4 More probable is that, as so often in the course of his career, he may have become involved in another conflict with some competing rival. 5 After a year the expelled chief då™í was summoned back to Cairo by al-Mustan˚ir and reinstated in his office. In an epistle addressed to him, the Imam expressed his personal regret about the punishment of his loyal servant by the wazír.6 The decree proclaiming al-Mu¢ayyad’s investiture as chief då™í This unique and valuable epistle (sijill, pl. sijillåt) is issued in the name of ‘God’s servant and elect, the Commander of the Faithful,’ the Imam al-Mustan˚ir, ‘to the venerable shaykh’ alMu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín. It dates from the first of Dhu’l-Óijja 450/9 February 1059, and is preserved in the seventh volume of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín’s ™Uyïn al-akhbår.7 The decree contains several interesting historical references which supplement and confirm the information al-Mu¢ayyad himself had given in his Síra. There is, for instance, an allusion to his ancestors, ‘a family of godly du™åt,’ who were obviously active and successful in the da™wa for the concealed Imams,8 ‘forefathers of the Commander of the Faithful, when no banner had yet been unfurled for them, and they undertook the establishment of the signs of their religion when the world was (full of) injustice and darkness.’ Al-Mu¢ayyad is praised for following in their footsteps and becoming ‘the most beauteous of them in deeds,’ and attaining ‘the most elevated of glory in the occasions of obedience and nobility.’

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Next al-Mu¢ayyad’s services, which he carried out loyally and skilfully for the Fatimids, are emphasised: You raised the banners of the Commander of the Faithful in Fårs, Kirmån and Khïzistån such that the worlds were made to stand up (and take notice), and each tongue and mouth discussed the report of your terrifyingly powerful stature; until the affair suddenly became such that it tore you apart from (your) homelands, so you traversed the bosom of the earth emigrating to the door of the Commander of the Faithful; and you spent years in the dark night of trial. Then you were sent to the Turkomans, (you) scorched yourself at the heat of their fire, and were pelted with dangers in the depths of their seas, the hands of the waves tossing you about in their current. You conducted the affair in your journey in a manner that protected the sanctum of the equipment and supplies that accompanied you... Then you verged off to Aleppo, removed the confusion there and subdued the massive sedition ... The Commander of the Faithful’s army entered it safely, in peace, greeted by the faces of the people ... The sincerity of its people’s obedience became manifest, due to your gentle (handling) of the Night of the Fire ... 9

Al-Mu¢ayyad is praised in the epistle as one whose unique talents – such as his eloquence and ‘quick grasp in its (the da™wa’s) branches of knowledge’ – qualify him to take over the responsibility of the office of chief då™í: So take charge of what the Commander of the Faithful has put you in charge of with the resolution of someone like you, someone whose resolutions are strong and whose pillars are established on the surface of the earth of inner perception. Dedicate the better part of your heart’s devotion to the betterment of the corrupt among its affairs, and the most abundant portion of your thought to (the cure of) the diseased in its body.10

The decree of investiture is also instructive for it lists a broad spectrum of the ethical as well as official duties the newly appointed då™í al-du™åt was expected to carry out and cope with:

chief då™í in cairo 93 • Conveying religious wisdom in the ‘guise of revelatory commands and prohibitions.’ • Excluding those neglecting the religious law ‘from the register of the people who have answered,’ cutting their ‘trace from the assemblies of the da™wa.’ • Encouraging the believers to observe collectiveness and religious gatherings, and to fulfil their religious duties (such as the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina). • Organising the missionaries in the provinces in a manner that keeps in order the ranks of the religious hierarchy and enlivens the giving and reception of knowledge. • Giving special attention to religiously desolated regions, ‘so that they are affected and grow with the raining of water of your right guidance ... your effort and endeavour.’ • Submitting the taxes (fi†r) and the alms-tax, being beyond the temptations of treachery in this respect. • Being receptive to the counsel of the wazír Abu’l-Faraj Mu˙ammad b. Ja™far al-Maghribí, reporting to him, accepting his advice and orders.11 The office of då™í al-du™åt The rank of the då™í al-du™åt in the ceremonial hierarchy was subordinate to the wazír and the supreme judge, the qå{í alqu{åt. His office was the Dår al-™Ilm (House of Knowledge), an academy founded by the Fatimid Imam al-Óåkim in 395/1005 when it was called Dår al-Óikma (House of Wisdom). In alMu¢ayyad’s time, that institution had become the ministry of religious organisation and education, located in the vicinity of the royal palace.12 The tasks of the chief då™í in the sector of religious instruction were manifold.13 They comprised the initiation of novices, crowned by the taking of the oath of allegiance (™ahd or míthåq) from men and women who successfully completed the first stage of their education in the da™wa; and the training, proceeding through many stages, of the professional group of the (exclusively male14) då™ís who could rise from the rank of mustajíb,

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‘the one who is ready to respond’ (that is, the initiate) to ma¢dhïn, ‘the one who is authorised’ (the då™í’s assistant), on to mukåsir, ‘the one who breaks’ (the subordinate då™í), and through to the fully authorised då™í who is allowed to teach and propagate. Evidently, the chief då™í also appointed individuals from among the da™wa elite to take over specific assignments and responsibilities, such as leadership of the clandestine or semiclandestine jazíras of the da™wa outside the Fatimid domain. Moreover, the chief då™í had to receive persons coming from these provincial ‘islands’ or other distant regions, and pass onto them his specialised knowledge, expertise, training and instructions. The most important public task of the chief då™í was the writing and reading of the majålis al-˙ikma (sessions of wisdom), the sermons read in the mosques and the royal palace every week. We know that during al-Mustan˚ir’s reign (427–487/ 1036–1094), the majålis were held on Thursdays in the palace and on Fridays after prayers for the mass of people in the mosques of the capital.15 The Fatimid historian al-Musabbi˙í informed his readers that the majålis were held for different audiences of people. Men and women were separated: The då™í used to hold continuous sessions in the palace to read what was read to the initiates and collect the duties (that is, religious taxes) connected with it. The då™í would hold a separate session for the initiates; another for the courtiers and high officials as well as all those attached to the palaces as lackeys or in other capacities; a further session for the simple people and strangers in the city; a separate session for women in the mosque of Cairo called al-Azhar; and a session for the wives and the noble women of the palaces.16

Obviously the character of the majålis under the Fatimids must have been very different. Some of the groups, such as the common people and strangers, were educated on the basis of the exoteric (úåhir) aspects of religion, based for example on the legal books of al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån. The elite of the da™wa, however, having already acquired basic instruction, was

chief då™í in cairo 95 entrusted with the esoteric (bå†in) knowledge derived from the venerable corpus of Ismaili theological and philosophical literature, or kept in the då™í’s own mind and heart. Al-Musabbi˙í’s text also reveals interesting aspects of the process of writing and reading of the majålis lectures: He (the då™í) wrote the majålis at home and then sent them to the person in charge of serving the state. For these majålis he used books of which fair copies were made after they were submitted to the caliph.17

The chief då™í was thus the author of each majlis, even when it was read out by someone else, as was the case when alMu¢ayyad was the ‘ghostwriter’ of the Sunni al-Yåzïrí who was in charge of the da™wa for a couple of years during the fourth decade of the 5th/11th century. Then the text of the majlis was sent to the Imam who probably had to sign it to indicate his consent. The då™í – and surely a couple of deputies in the mosques – read the sermon, probably in the name of the Imam in front of diverse groups of people and believers. Thanks to this procedure of writing down, signing and reading the majålis, some collections have been preserved. In addition to those of al-Mu¢ayyad, we have the majålis of al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån in his Ta¢wíl al-da™å¢im, and the al-Majålis alMustan˚iriyya, by Abu’l-Qåsim ™Abd al-Óåkim b. Wahb al-Malíjí, who was in charge of the da™wa for some time during the long reign of the Imam al-Mustan˚ir. The Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya By far the largest and most comprehensive collection of majålis that has come down to us is the Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya of alMu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí. It consists of 800 majålis divided into eight parts, each containing 100 sermons. Regrettably, only 300 of these lectures so far have been edited.18 An abridgement of the collection was compiled by the Yemeni author Óåtim b. Ibråhím al-Óåmidí (d. 557/1162) in his two volume work Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq.19 Even if there exists no analysis of the Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya

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to this day, it is obvious for several reasons that this major opus of our author is of great interest. They are a rich and diverse mirror of Fatimid religion and theology in al-Mu¢ayyad’s time, providing a detailed insight into Ismaili esoteric thought and hermeneutics of Qur¢anic verses and ˙adíth. Addressed to the believers, they are intended to strengthen their awareness of Islamic and Ismaili doctrines, sacred history and eschatology. They explain the esoteric interpretation (ta¢wíl) of holy days, like ™Åshïrå¢ (the memorial day of the early Shi™i Imam alÓusayn b. ™Alí in Karbalå¢), of collective rituals like the pilgrimage (˙ajj) and fasting in Rama{ån. Further, they show in detail the theological positions al-Mu¢ayyad took in religious discourses, such as the important discourse on the relation between intellect (™aql) and religious law (sharí™a). And since our author was engaged and well-versed in theological-philosophical disputes, the Majålis are also a mirror of intellectual life in the Muslim world of the 5th/11th century. One of the interesting features of the Majålis is the extracts of al-Mu¢ayyad’s letters (raså¢il) to the humane thinker and ‘existentialist’ philosopher, the poet Abu’l-™Alå¢ al-Ma™arrí about his strict vegetarianism, a dispute held when al-Mu¢ayyad was in Aleppo during the al-Basåsírí campaign.20 As the editor of the correspondence, I˙sån ™Abbås, has pointed out, the subtext of the dispute was one of power politics, since the charismatic and popular Syrian ascetic and man of letters Abu’l-™Alå¢ was an opponent of the Fatimids, who by that time were the occupiers of north-western Syria and his home town, Ma™arrat al-Nu™mån.21 The Majålis also contain extracts of al-Mu¢ayyad’s sharp refutation of the Kitåb al-Zumurrud (The Book of the Green Emerald) by the free-thinking philosopher – or as many Muslims polemically claimed – the ‘heretic’ Ibn al-Råwandí who, although he lived more than a century before al-Mu¢ayyad, continued to exert a provoking and controversial influence.22 Further, the Majålis contain concise refutations of alMu¢ayyad’s religious and intellectual opponents, such as the ‘exaggerators’ (ghulåt),23 the ‘people of personal opinion’ (ahl

chief då™í in cairo 97 al-ra¢y) such as the Mu™tazila and the philosophers, as well as the members of other Muslim and non-Islamic communities. Al-Mu¢ayyad as the teacher of Nå˚ir-i Khusraw Al-Mu¢ayyad’s personality as a teacher is praised in a poem written in Persian by the famous Iranian då™í, philosopher and poet Nå˚ir-i Khusraw (394–after 465/1004–after 1072), who set off on a long journey to Egypt after a spiritual experience had brought him into complete turmoil. He arrived in Cairo probably in the same year as al-Mu¢ayyad (439/1047). Nå˚ir stayed for three years in the city and was personally taught, initiated and trained as a då™í by al-Mu¢ayyad (before his appointment as chief då™í in 450/1059). We will cite here a major portion of the long poem by Nå˚ir-i Khusraw on his visit to Cairo, since it is an authentic (although partly metaphorical) echo of alMu¢ayyad’s creative work.24 The autobiographical poem opens with the verse, ‘O well-read and world-travelled one.’ It first goes into Nå˚ir’s spiritual quest, one that finally compelled him to leave his home and embark on his journey to the west: Then I rose from my place and started on a journey, Abandoning without regret my house, my garden, those whom I was accustomed to see. From the Persian and Arab, Indian and Turk, From the inhabitants of Sind, Byzantium, a Jew, from everyone, From the philosopher, the Manichee, Sabaean, from an atheist, Did I inquire as to what interested me, with much persistence. Very often I had to spend nights sleeping on hard stones, With no roof or cover over my head except clouds. Now roaming low, swimming as a fish in the sea, Now high in the mountains loftier than (Gemini). Now I passed through countries where frozen water was as hard as marble, Now through countries in which the earth was as hot as embers. By sea, by land, sometimes even if there were no roads, By hills, by sandy desert, across streams and precipices, Now with the camel’s halter rope over my shoulder as a

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true camelman, Now carrying my belongings on my shoulders a beast of burden. In this way did I wander from town to town, making inquiries, Wandered in search of the truth over this sea to that land.

In the course of the poem Nå˚ir-i Khusraw gives a wonderful rendering of his arrival in Cairo, the spiritual home for him and many other Ismailis in these years. Surely al-Mu¢ayyad must have felt similar emotions when he arrived as a refugee from his homeland to the city holding so much promise: And then came the day when I arrived at the gate of the City to which The luminaries of the heaven were slaves, and all kingdoms of the world subordinated. I came to the City that resembled a garden full of fruit and flowers Within its ornamented walls, with its ground planted with trees, Its fields resembling the pattern of precious brocade, Its Spring of Water which was as sweet as honey, resembling Kawthar,25 The city in which houses are virtues, The Garden in which pine trees are Reason, The city in which the learned are dressed in brocade Not (spun by women or woven by men). It was the City in which, when I arrived, my reason told me: Here it is where thou shouldst seek for what thou needest. Do not pass through it in haste.

The meeting with his future spiritual teacher al-Mu¢ayyad is alluded to in metaphorical images: And I went before the Warden of the Gate, and told him what I was after. He said: ‘Cease worrying, the jewel has been found in the mine. Beneath the ideas of this world there lies an ocean of Truth, In which are found precious pearls, as well as Pure Water. This is the highest Heaven of the exalted stars. Nay, it is Paradise itself, full of the most captivating beauties.’ Hearing him say this, I thought he was Ri{wån26 himself.

chief då™í in cairo 99 The poem continues with a dialogue between the two Iranians, one a seeker of wisdom and the other a healer of souls: So much was I struck with his wise words and admirable utterances. Then said I unto him: ‘My soul is weak and frail. Do not look at this my strong body and pink cheeks.’ But I never take a medicine without first trying and testing it. When I feel pain, I never would think or listen to what is unlawful. Said he: ‘Do not worry, I am here to heal thee. Tell me all, describe thy pain.’ And I began to ask him of the things that were first and those that were last, Of the cause of the order of the world which is basis of things as they are, Of what is genus and the way in which species is formed. I asked about the All-Powerful, predestination and fate, Both of which are (never) inseparable from each other. But how should one be given precedence over the others? I asked him of the mechanism of the palpitation of day and night – how from these The beggar becomes rich, and darkness becomes lit? I asked about the Prophets (and their contradictory messages), Of the reason for the prohibition of drinking blood or intoxicating wine. Then I inquired as to the foundation of sharí™at, And why these five prayers have been prescribed. I asked about the fast that the Prophet ordered to be observed during the ninth month of the year...

The chain of Nå˚ir’s questions continues. Then he describes the procedure of healing, including the giving of esoteric knowledge, by his teacher al-Mu¢ayyad: When I mentioned all these questions, the wise one lifted his hand, touching (with it) his breast. May a hundred blessings be now on that hand and that breast! He said: ‘I shall give thee the medicine, tried and tested, But I have to affix a strong seal on thy mouth.’ He, that wise guide, summoned, as two legal witnesses, the world

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and man (macrocosm and microcosm), And also all that can be eaten and used as drink. I expressed acceptance and he then sealed the medicine, Giving me a dose of it to take as a nourishing extract. My suffering disappeared, my speech became free, My yellowed face became scarlet through joy. He raised me from dust to the sky, as a ruby; I was like dust and became like precious amber.

Nå˚ir-i Khusraw now refers to the ceremony of initiation, the taking of the oath (™ahd). He then deepens the poetic rendering of his spiritual transformation, using his favourite literary image of the metamorphosis into a ruby. He it was who laid my hand into the Prophet’s hand for the oath, Under the same exalted tree, full of shadow and fruit. Hast thou ever heard that a sea comes from fire, Or that the fox becomes a lion? The sun has the power of turning stone into ruby Which no force of elements can turn again to its original state – I am like that ruby now, and the sun is he By whose light this dark world becomes lit. Out of jealousy I cannot tell thee his name in this poem. I can tell thee only so much that Plato would have been fit to become merely one of his (attendants). He is the teacher and healer (of souls), helper (of religion) (mu¢ayyid),27 from God. It is hardly possible to imagine anyone equalling him in wisdom and knowledge. May that City be prosperous whose Warden of the Gate he is! May the Ship be safe whose anchor (captain) he is! O thou, whose well-reasoned poetry is the standard of wisdom! O thou, under whose patronage learning is organised as arrayed troops! O thou, at whose greatness’s door knowledge has pitched its camp! I request thee to convey greetings from this obedient slave, The greetings, moving and lasting (as the glittering of a) jewel which shines as a moon...

chief då™í in cairo 101 After a long sequence of greetings, Nå˚ir again praises his unforgettable religious master in the final part of his poem: Then praise to the one who has freed me, My teacher, the healer of my soul, the embodiment of wisdom and glory. O thou, whose face is knowledge, whose body is virtue and heart – wisdom, O thou, instructor of humanity and its object of pride! Before thee once stood, clad in that woollen cloak, This man, emaciated, with pale face. It was the truth that, except for thy hand, I ever touched with my lips Only the Black Stone and the grave of the Prophet. Six years (after this) I remained as an attendant of (the Prophet’s) blessed image,28 Six years I sat in attendance as a servant at the door of the Ka™ba. Wherever may I happen to be for the rest of my life, always I shall use my pen, inkstand and paper only to express my gratitude to thee. So long as cypress trees sway under the blows of the breeze, Let the presence (of the Imam) be adorned by thee as the garden is adorned by cypress trees!29

In 444/1052, Nå˚ir-i Khusraw returned to Balkh (near today’s Mazår-i Sharíf) where he began to work as a då™í. Probably he was the leader (˙ujja) of the Ismaili mission in the whole region of Khuråsån as he himself claimed. His sphere of activity stretched to the provinces along the shore of the Caspian Sea. When he was denounced by the Sunnis of Balkh as a heretic and his life threatened, he sought refuge in the remote valley of Yumgån in the mountainous region of Badakhshån (a north-eastern province of today’s Afghanistan) amidst the Pamir mountains where he lived and worked under the patronage of an autonomous Ismaili amir, Abu’l-Ma™ålí ™Alí b. al-Asad, until his death. During all these years he maintained contact with the headquarters of the Ismaili da™wa in Cairo headed by alMu¢ayyad. Nå˚ir’s preaching spread beyond the Amï Daryå (Oxus) river into the northern part of Badakhshån (now situated in Tajikistan) and Transoxania. Right up to the present

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day, small Ismaili communities survive in these areas of Nå˚ir’s mission, where he is locally known as Shåh Sayyid or Pír Nå˚iri Khusraw. Also, his poetical, theological and philosophical works – all written in the Persian language that may well contain reflections and traces of al-Mu¢ayyad’s teachings – were handed down and preserved there.30 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s role in the ®ayyibí Ismaili da™wa Another, far broader stream of al-Mu¢ayyad’s influence reached the ®ayyibí Ismaili community in Yemen and Gujarat (western India), where it has remained alive to this very day. It goes back to a systematic transfer of da™wa literature and knowledge to Yemen during al-Mu¢ayyad’s time as chief då™í. In 454/1062, ™Alí al-Íulay˙í, the founder of the loyal Íulay˙id dynasty and state in Yemen, sent a delegation under the leadership of his supreme qå{í Lamak b. Målik al-Óammådí to Cairo. For five years al-Mu¢ayyad instructed Lamak in Ismaili doctrines in the Dår al-™Ilm. The då™í also arranged for a large number of manuscripts of Ismaili literature to be dispatched to Yemen. When Lamak returned to Yemen he succeeded to the headship of the da™wa in the region. With the books he brought with him from Cairo, he laid the foundation for the creative and continuous reception of the Fatimid heritage that has been zealously guarded in the libraries of the ®ayyibí community in Yemen and India to the present day.31 During his stay in Egypt, Lamak and his group had received instructions to establish a da™wa base on the Indian west coast. Immediately after their return to Yemen, three members of the group set off for Gujarat where Ismaili då™ís had already been active and founded several small communities. Under the strict Sunni rule of Ma˙mïd of Ghazna, the Ismailis of India had been persecuted but not completely extinguished. On this well-prepared ground, the missionary work of Lamak’s colleagues was extremely successful in proselytizing the local merchants, the Bohras. From then on the new jazíra maintained close ties with the Íulay˙id state, from where its religious affairs

chief då™í in cairo 103 were supervised and coordinated in the name of the Imam alMustan˚ir in Cairo.32 The close relations between the Fatimids and the Íulay˙ids is well documented in numerous letters and epistles sent from the Fatimid chancery (díwån al-inshå¢) in Cairo to the vassals in the southwest of the Arabian Peninsula. In two of them, both dating from the year 461/1069, the då™í al-du™åt al-Mu¢ayyad is mentioned by his honorific title ™I˚mat al-Mu¢minín (Succour of the Believers), Íafiyy Amír al-Mu¢minín wa Waliyyuhï (The Chosen of the Commander of the Faithful and his Friend/ Select).33 The close religious and cultural ties between Egypt, Yemen and the Indian subcontinent opened up a new sphere of Ismaili intellectual tradition that was productive enough to survive the long and chaotic decline of the Fatimid empire. As Egypt was in slow decline, the Íulay˙id state reached the first heyday of its productive intellectual and religious culture under the reign of Queen Arwå bint A˙mad, known as al-Malika al-Sayyida Óurra. Arwå was the first woman to be elevated to the highest rank of ˙ujja (Proof) in the da™wa hierarchy in 477/ 1084.34 This was seven years after al-Mu¢ayyad’s death. Subsequently, in view of the disintegrating and violent developments in Egypt, Queen Arwå preferred to cut her ties with the Fatimid state. In 524/1130, after al-Mustan˚ir’s grandson al-Åmir was murdered in Cairo, she refused to acknowledge the succession of his cousin al-Óåfiú, claiming instead that religious leadership belonged to al-®ayyib, the infant son of al-Åmir. Even after al-®ayyib disappeared in the unrest following the death of his father, she continued to support his claim to the imamate. She conferred religious leadership to an ‘authorised då™í’ (då™í mu†laq) expected to hold office until al-®ayyib returned in the future. After the end of the Íulay˙id dynasty, the office of då™í mu†laq was handed down among the survivors of the ®ayyibí community in Óaråz and Najrån. In 946/1539 it passed over to the community in Gujarat. After the death of the 26th då™í mu†laq in 977/1589, the ®ayyibí community split between the Då¢ïdís (with their centre in India) and the Sulaymånís (Yemen). Even

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after this schism, al-Mu¢ayyad continued to be honoured as the connecting link and catalyst of an unbroken religious tradition extending from Fatimid Egypt to ®ayyibí Yemen and India. Right up until today, after more than a thousand years of history, the entire ®ayyibí community still regards him as their spiritual ancestor.35 Al-Mu¢ayyad’s death Al-Mu¢ayyad may be regarded as the culmination of the Fatimid intellectual tradition. Already during the last decade of his life, the Fatimid state was severely shaken by a series of political and economic crises which marked the onset of a development that was to lead to domestic instability and a breakdown of its intellectual productivity. During the 440s/1050s and 450s/1060s, the factional and ethnic conflicts between the Berbers, Daylamí, Turkish and African regiments of the Fatimid armies came to a head. The rebellion of the Turkish troops forced al-Mustan˚ir to call in Badr al-Jamålí, an Armenian general in the service of the Fatimids in Syria, to establish law and order. Arriving with his troops in Cairo in 466/1074, he immediately crushed the rebellions. Badr monopolised the leadership of the entire administration and became responsible for the judicial, religious and civil offices. Thanks to Badr’s vigour and authority, the last decades of al-Mustan˚ir’s sixtyyear reign, which ended in 487/1094, passed in relative stability and prosperity.36 But it seems as if Badr’s rigid military rule blocked creativity and further development of the Fatimid religious and cultural traditions. In fact, two months before al-Mu¢ayyad’s death, Badr al-Jamålí was given the title of the Hådí du™åt al-mu¢minín (Guide for the då™ís of the Believers),37 a clear indication that the religious and organisational functions of the da™wa were now subordinated to the military. Al-Mu¢ayyad was thus the last great religious scholar of the Fatimid state. The grand missionary al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí passed away in the first ten days of Shawwål 470/1078 at the age of

chief då™í in cairo 105 eighty-three or eighty-four.38 As chief då™í he was buried in his residence and working place, the Dår al-™Ilm in Cairo. The Imam al-Mustan˚ir personally led the funeral ceremonies for his loyal då™í, who had faithfully served the da™wa during nearly fifty years of his rule.39

8 Epilogue

This study has had a twofold aim. First, it sought to give an insight into the life and the achievements of the outstanding Fatimid scholar, missionary and politician, al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí, by presenting his oeuvre, as well as important information about him scattered in documents and later works of historiography. In particular, following Óusayn al-Hamdåní’s studies on the Fatimid da™wa, the Sírat al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín is acknowledged as a rich and personal source for the history of the organisation and function of the movement. Since this autobiographical account covers an important part of alMu™ayyad’s career, extending from the late twenties of the fifth century ah until the beginning of the fifties, it was possible for us to utilise the author’s account as our own personal guide through crucial stages of his life and career. In particular the Síra’s first part, dealing with the rise and the fall of the author at the court of the Bïyid prince Abï Kålíjår in Shíråz, proved to be not only a personal account from a committed and ambitious då™í, but also an extensive and valuable source for crucial political events of the 5th/11th century. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s report of his mission at the Bïyid court serves as a magnifying glass, exposing the international political dynamics of the age

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concentrated in one single life and personal destiny. It can thus be read as a work of history dealing with the mutual relationships between Fatimid, Abbasid and Bïyid forces on the eve, and under the rapidly growing pressure of, the Saljïq invasions from Central Asia towards the centres of Abbasid-Bïyid rule in Iran and Iraq. This finding defined the second aim of our book: an examination and evaluation of the historical content of al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs of his mission. Has this Fatimid då™í and scholar told us ‘nothing but the truth’? Or did he have personal reasons for lending his description of the events in Shíråz a certain bias, a predisposition that a present-day reader should be made aware of in order to determine the historical value of the account? In the search for answers to this question, a rather complex diagnosis has emerged. In this epilogue, we will summarise our results. First, the second part of the Síra, dealing with al-Mu¢ayyad’s disappointing experiences after his arrival at the court of the Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir, gave us an indication of the intentions the refugee might have had when writing down the report of his ambitious but failed mission in Shíråz. In all likelihood he had good reasons for placing his mission in a favourable light, since certain high-handed and selfish officials at the Fatimid court tried to foil the continuation of his religio-political career in Cairo as a loyal servant of the Imam. In writing down the memoirs of his mission at this unfortunate stage of his career, al-Mu¢ayyad was probably intending to convince the Imam of his loyalty and selfless commitment to the Fatimid cause. He wanted to tell him personally of the unprecedented success he had had initially at the Bïyid court in Fårs, and the danger and hardship he had been forced to go through in achieving it. Second, this hypothetical result was supported by a further finding that opened a completely new dimension of alMu¢ayyad’s report. A comparison of this report with the Risåla al-mïjaza al-kåfiya fí adab al-du™åt – in which his elder colleague and compatriot A˙mad b. Ibråhím al-Nísåbïrí described the

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ethical standards and professional tasks of the Fatimid då™í – showed that al-Mu¢ayyad’s manner of self-description had probably been influenced by these normative values and ideals of the Ismaili da™wa. In fact, the subtext of al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs of his mission could be read as a transposition of al-Nísåbïrí’s more theoretical and general instructions into the specific historical context of al-Mu¢ayyad’s work in the capital of the Bïyid prince Abï Kålíjår. In other words, the first part of the Síra carries a subtext that seeks to demonstrate the outstanding skills, selfless commitment and exemplary sense of duty of the då™í al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín during his difficult and high-risk mission in Iran. The ultimate failure of that mission, so the report implies, was not the fault of the eager då™í, but due to the religiopolitical opposition of the Sunni scholars and establishments in Shíråz and Baghdad. Thirdly, such a diagnosis of a subtext expressing the ideals and norms of the Fatimid da™wa in no way reduces the value of al-Mu¢ayyad’s report as a source for the history of this part of his life in Shíråz. By outlining the inter-regional and international religio-political relationships and tensions of his age, we come to the conclusion that the Fatimid då™í’s account is to a large extent believable and coherent. Thus, the ties between Abï Kålíjår and the Abbasid caliph broke down shortly after the peace accord of the caliph with his Bïyid supreme amir Jalål al-Dawla in Baghdad. On the one hand, Abï Kålíjår was ready to renounce his own claims to Bïyid leadership in the Abbasid capital; on the other hand, he refused to acknowledge his old rival Jalål al-Dawla in this function. As coins circulating in his sphere of power bear witness, Abï Kålíjår now carried the title shåhånshåh, standing for the traditional claim of Bïyid independence. At the same time, the balance of power in the east of his empire had become seriously disturbed by the ongoing invasion of the Saljïqs. The Ghaznavids had lost Khuråsån, the Daylamí Kåkïyids were fighting for their political survival, and now the very heartland of the Abbasid empire was under threat from the Turkomans. It was precisely in the early 430s/1040s that al-Mu¢ayyad won

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over Abï Kålíjår to the Ismaili cause and the side of the Fatimids. In view of the isolated and threatened political situation of the Bïyid ruler of Fårs, it is understandable that he showed serious interest in forging an alliance with the Fatimid sovereign in the west. Thus, there is no reason at all to doubt al-Mu¢ayyad’s assuming an exclusive role at the court. As soon as he became the religious instructor of the prince, he started to engage himself as a political mediator. In this function he initiated the first step for a diplomatic opening of Abï Kålíjår’s politics towards the Fatimids in the form of an official address from the Bïyid amir to the Fatimid court (see al-Mu¢ayyad’s verses in the Síra). But as the Síra further shows, that was already the end of the matter. Al-Mu¢ayyad impressively narrates how the Sunnis furiously opposed the new pro-Fatimid political course of the sectarian amir. High-ranking functionaries and followers of the Abbasid caliph mobilised Turkish soldiers and the population to protest against this – in their eyes – scandalous development and its advocates, in particular al-Mu¢ayyad and his supporters, the Daylamí soldiers. In this regard also, we can consider al-Mu¢ayyad’s report as highly credible, for in this age of powerful Sunni restoration, ‘orthodox’ forces could easily prevent another Bïyid ruler (after ™A{ud al-Dawla) from loosening the existing ideological and political restraints and crossing over to the Fatimid ‘heretics’ in Cairo. Thus, in Shíråz as well as in the Abbasid capital, mechanisms were set in motion to exert intensive political pressure on the renegade and self-willed prince Abï Kålíjår. Having thus compared the contextual information given by Arabic and Persian historiography with al-Mu¢ayyad’s report, we can conclude that this highly-motivated representative of the da™wa knew very well how to take advantage of the political dilemma faced by Abï Kålíjår. Seen from the bird’s-eye perspective of the historian, al-Mu¢ayyad’s da™wa in Fårs was subjected to an international dynamic that first led to an extraordinary success, but then to a failure of his mission. But whenever we lack contextual historical information –

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apart from the idealistic and subjective report of the då™í in his Síra – the historical track of al-Mu¢ayyad becomes lost in uncertainty. This is particularly true for the allegedly overriding happy end of the då™í’s mission, that had been, in fact, so unfortunate for him personally. As he tells at the very end of the first part of the Síra, his former opponents in Shíråz were executed for an intrigue they planned against the ruler. According to al-Mu¢ayyad, Abï Kålíjår was now free to revive his former plans of a Bïyid-Fatimid alliance. Hence, the Bïyid prince eagerly contacted his former teacher in Cairo, excusing the misery he had caused him and asking him to initiate a further pact of friendship. The information in the historical sources of these years concentrate on the victorious military expeditions of the Turkoman cavalry as it forged ahead with its relentless invasion of the heartlands of the Abbasid caliphate under the leadership of the Saljïq clan. After Jalål al-Dawla’s death, Abï Kålíjår had advanced to the rank of supreme amir in the capital and was again on good terms with the Abbasid caliph. But due to the Turkoman threat to southern Iran, he withdrew from Baghdad to the royal palace in his hometown Shíråz, where he undersigned a peace accord with the invaders in 439/1047. Can we believe al-Mu¢ayyad that this penultimate Bïyid leader sent him the aforementioned message in such a situation? We cannot answer this question. But if we take a literary perspective, we clearly see that the då™í’s triumphal description of the humiliating end of his enemies and the conciliatory message from Shíråz closes the circle started in the prologue of his report. There he had announced to the reader that the surprising end of his dramatic story would finally show the hidden kindness of God and reveal unique religious knowledge. This means, in other words, that due to divine intervention in the course of events, God himself would confirm the Fatimid da™wa and in particular the mission of His servant al-Mu¢ayyad, who committed himself more than anybody else for the Imam al-Mustan˚ir. Al-Mu¢ayyad, who wrote his report in expectation of promotion to the highest office in the da™wa, could have

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chosen a supra-historical, literary ‘higher truth’ to convince the sceptics in the Fatimid court, as well as al-Mustan˚ir, of his outstanding achievements and exceptional qualifications. Here, the line separating religious idealism from ‘earthly’ reality became blurred, and our search for the historical role of the Fatimid då™í al-Mu¢ayyad in the first stage of his career came to an end. The second part of the Síra al-Mu¢ayyadiyya starts in the form of a letter to an intimate friend. Al-Mu¢ayyad, now a high-ranking functionary of the Fatimid state, describes the slow and disillusioning process of being accepted and dignified by the state officials. He thereby uses an authentic and courageous critical perspective on the political situation at court and the apparent difficulty of the young Caliph-Imam to deal with it. Despite many setbacks and frustrations, step by step al-Mu¢ayyad came closer to the Imam. In the course of his career, he became the ‘ghostwriter’ of the chief då™í and the Minister of the Fatimid chancery. But he was not at all satisfied, since he had not yet succeeded in assuming official leadership of the da™wa. For the historian, there is no reason to doubt the central aspects of the ‘insider’ information al-Mu¢ayyad gives to his reader. Although the report can be considered as very personal and subjective, it supplements the rather dry and formal information given by later historiography with meaningful human details of the time and the context. The Síra then continues with a summarizing report of the mission of its author in northern Syria and Iraq, where he had been sent to build up an alliance of local rulers against the Saljïqs, using the rebellion of the general al-Basåsírí as an occasion for forming a united counter-movement. This part of the Síra still has to be placed and analysed in the context of a more detailed historiography: although it chronologically leads us further through a crucial stage of al-Mu¢ayyad’s career, it is mainly a summary of political negotiations and a documentation of the letters which had been exchanged between the plenipotentiary al-Mu¢ayyad and the provincial rulers of northern Syria and Iraq under the acute pressure of the Turkoman

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invasions and the establishment of the Saljïqs as political masters in the Sunni Islamic world. These are valuable documents that could help illuminate Fatimid provincial as well as foreign policies. It also gives an insight into the pragmatic and probably short-sighted politics pursued by the local tribal leaders in an age of great and radical change in the central and peripheral lands of the Abbasid caliphate. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s epilogue to the Síra finally tells us about the end of his special mission in Syria and Iraq, and celebrates the triumph of the rebel al-Basåsírí who, at least for one year, occupied Baghdad, exiled the Abbasid caliph and established the khu†ba for al-Mustan˚ir in the Abbasid capital and surrounding provinces. From a historian’s point of view, this event was no more than a short and chaotic episode during the military and social turmoil at the advent of the Saljïq era. For the passionate Fatimid då™í al-Mu¢ayyad, however, it was a singular highlight in his professional as well as personal life, especially since his arch-enemy, the Abbasid wazír Ibn al-Muslima, who was officially responsible for his expulsion from Fårs, had been humiliated and executed during al-Basåsírí’s violent intermezzo. Finally, back in Cairo, al-Mu¢ayyad was rather surprisingly granted what he had been striving for ever since his arrival in the capital of the Fatimid Imams in 439/1047: he became the chief då™í of al-Mustan˚ir and retained this office until his death in 470/1078. Al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí was thus able to conclude his eventful and creative life at the age of eighty-three or eighty-four years as a highly respected, venerable and dignified shaykh in Cairo. It is hoped that this slim volume will contribute to the appreciation of this great religious, political and literary figure of the Fatimid era.

Appendix 1 The Works of al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí

This Appendix lists all the known extant works of al-Mu¢ayyad which are preserved at various locations, including the library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies, London. See the Bibliography for information on editions, translations and studies of specific texts. Additional bibliographic and manuscript details can be found in the following sources, as indicated in the references cited in square brackets: [Q] Qutbuddin, Bazat-Tahera. al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí: Founder of a New Tradition of Fatimid Da™wa Poetry. Ph.D. thesis, Harvard University, 1999, pp.341–349. (Qutbuddin’s bibliography of al-Mu¢ayyad’s works is the most recent and complete one.) [P] Poonawala, Ismail K.: Biobibliography of Ismå™ílí Literature. Malibu, CA, 1977, pp.103–109. [G] Gacek, Adam. Catalogue of Arabic Manuscripts in the Library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies. London, 1984. vol.1 [C] Cortese, Delia. Ismaili and Other Arabic Manuscripts: A Descriptive Catalogue of Manuscripts in the Library of The Institute of

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Ismaili Studies. London, 2000. [Z] Cortese, Delia. Arabic Ismaili Manuscripts: The Zåhid ™Alí Collection in the Library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies. London, 2003. Lectures al-Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya [Q: 344; G: 77; C: 100–108; Z: 76; P: 106] A collection of 800 majålis in eight volumes, each containing 100 majålis on a variety of topics, dealing mainly with Ismaili ta¢wíl, ethics, theology, philosophy and eschatology, including esoteric interpretations of Qur¢anic verses and ˙adíth. These lectures were delivered by al-Mu¢ayyad during the majålis al˙ikma in Cairo. al-Mas¢ala wa al-jawåb [Q: 344: P: 108] al-Maså¢il al-sab™ïn fí al-ta¢wíl [Q: 344; Z: 95; P: 108] Seventy questions and answers dealing with allegorical interpretations of Qur¢anic verses and ˙adíths, and a variety of themes. Maså¢il sa¢ala anhå al-Amír Abï Óamíd b. al-Muúaffar b. ™Alí … [li-] al-Mu¢ayyad [C: 162 (6); P: 108] Three questions and answers on taw˙íd, intellect and soul after death, attributed to al-Mu¢ayyad.

Short treatises on ˙aqå¢iq Shar˙ al-ma™åd (or Kitåb al-ma™åd, or Risålat al-ma™åd) [Q: 345; P: 108] al-Ibtidå¢ wa’l-intihå¢[Q: 345; P: 107; Z: 32] A short work dealing mainly with eschatological issues such as the advent of the Qå¢im, the soul, reward and punishment, angels, and the return of the soul to its place of origin.

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Síra/‘Memoirs’ al-Síra al-Mu¢ayyadiyya [G: 146; C: 110–111; Z: 156; P: 107] The memoirs of al-Mu¢ayyad’s activities and experiences in the service of the Fatimid Caliph-Imam al-Mustan˚ir, consisting of two parts and a postscript as described in the present work. Part 1: Al-Mu¢ayyad as då™í in Shíråz, his temporary success in convincing the Bïyíd ruler Abï Kålíjår of the Fatimid cause, his final flight to Egypt (429-ca. 437 or 438/1037–1046; written between 443 and 448/1052–1056). Part 2: Al-Mu¢ayyad at the Fatimid court in Cairo (437 or 438448/ca. 1045-1056), his mission as Fatimid plenipotentiary in northern Syria to build up an alliance among the local Bedouin rulers and the Turkish rebel al-Basåsírí against the Saljïqs (448– 450/1056–1058; written between 449 and 450/1057–1058). Postscript: Al-Basåsírí’s occupation of Baghdad, the Fatimid Friday prayer (khu†ba) in the Abbasid capital (450–451/1058– 1060; written after 454/1062).

Poetry Díwån [G: 14; C: 97–99; P: 107; Z: 20; Q: 342] A collection of 62 qa˚ídas of varying lengths, expressing the whole range of Ismaili themes and motifs across the various poetic genres of panegyric, elegy, munåjåt and description of self.

Prayers al-Ad™iya al-Mu¢ayyadiyya [Q: 342] A collection of prayers of varying lengths addressed to God on religious feast days, and other du™ås dealing with ˙aqå¢iq, mostly by al-Mu¢ayyad.

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al-Maqåmat al-ithnå™ashar li-yawm ™arafa wa huwa du™å¢ al-balågh li-Sayyidnå al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín [al-Shíråzí] [C: 168 (5); Q: 347] A selection of du™ås, probably part of the above-mentioned alAd™iya al-Mu¢ayyadiyya. Munåjåt li-Sayyidnå al-Mu¢ayyad [C: 168 (3), 174 (3); Q: 347; P: 108] Another selection, probably part of al-Ad™iya al-Mu¢ayyadiyya. al-Musabba˙ al-sab™ [Q: 343; P: 109] Seven prayers for seven days of the week.

Disputation Raså¢il Abí¢l-™Alå¢ al-Ma™arrí Al-Mu¢ayyad’s debate on vegetarianism with the Syrian philosopher-poet and ascetic Abu’l-™Alå¢ al-Ma™arrí. Also in al-Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya, vol.5, majålis 13–18. Translation Bunyåd-i ta¢wíl [P: 109; Z: Appendix B no. 1] Al-Mu¢ayyad’s Persian translation of al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån’s Asås al-ta¢wíl, containing the Ismaili interpretation of the stories of the prophets mentioned in the Qur¢an. Incorrect ascriptions Nahj al-™ibåda Incorrectly ascribed to al-Mu¢ayyad [G: 100; Q: 348; P: 109] Nahj al-hidåya li¢l-muhtadín [G: 99; C: 109; Q: 348; P: 108] Incorrectly ascribed to al-Mu¢ayyad, but containing many quotations of his Majålis.

Appendix 2 The Hierarchy and Pedagogy of the Fatimid da™wa

A partial summary of A˙mad b. Ibråhím al-Nísåbïrí’s al-Risåla al-mïjaza al-kåfiya fí adab al-du™åt (The Brief and Sufficient Epistle on the Code of Conduct and Etiquette of the Missionaries) Al-Nísåbïrí’s treatise is one of the extremely rare and valuable Ismaili sources dealing with the ethical and organisational aspects of the Fatimid da™wa.1 There is only one chapter in the Kitåb al-Himma fi ådåb atbå™ al-a¢imma (The Book of the High Ambition for the Norms of Conduct Concerning the Followers of the Imams) written by al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån (d. 363/974) some decades before the Risåla that deals with the tasks and responsibilities of the Ismaili då™í. Due to their similarity in content and terminology, there is good reason to assume that al-Nísåbïrí’s epistle, composed towards the end of the 4th/10th century, elaborates on al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån’s short chapter on the subject.2 The author, who had been a då™í during the reigns of the Fatimid Caliph-Imams al-™Azíz and al-Óåkim,3 addresses the Ismaili missionaries working inside and outside the borders of the Fatimid empire. Thus, the treatise is specialist literature for professionals 117

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in the internal and external Fatimid da™wa. As suggested above in Chapter 4, it is highly probable that al-Mu¢ayyad knew the work of his elder colleague and Persian compatriot who came from the famous old town of Nísåbïr (Níshåpïr) in north-eastern Iran. Among many other issues related to the required skills and ethics of the Fatimid missionary, the da™wa’s hierarchy, consisting of several professional ranks (˙udïd), constitutes an important subject in al-Nísåbïrí’s treatise. The graded ranks mirror celestial and terrestrial hierarchies in Fatimid philosophical theology, based upon the Neoplatonic system. The elaboration of this doctrine culminates in the Rå˙at al-™aql (The Peace of Intellect) by the great philosopher-theologian Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní (d. ca. 411/1020), who was chief då™í during the reign of Imam al-Óåkim. This great intellectual scholar, who came from al-Mu¢ayyad’s neighbouring province of Kirmån in south-eastern Iran to the Fatimid capital, worked out a soteriological doctrine centred around the salvation of the human soul through spiritual knowledge.4 In al-Kirmåní’s system, the terrestrial da™wa organisation corresponds to the cosmic order. One reason for the great value of al-Nísåbïrí’s treatise is that it gives us insight into the da™wa’s actual organisational structure that – although more simple and practical than in the utopian world of al-Kirmåní’s philosophical ideals – had become a reality in the course of Fatimid history. There is no reason to doubt that al-Nísåbïrí’s information reflects the da™wa’s hierarchical organisation, both in his as well as probably in al-Mu¢ayyad’s time. In the following pages, I have arranged, summarised5 and partly translated some passages that refer to the hierarchy of the da™wa, and the talents, skills and tasks required from the da™í in his relationship with members of his community, as well as during the selection and education of novices and trainees under his responsibility. Often the sentences are introduced by the formula ‘wa yanbaghí li¢l-då™í...’ (‘It is the duty of the missionary...’). The instructions for the då™í are often accompanied and justified by verses from the Qur¢an.

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The community of believers (qawm) The community is the fundament upon which the pyramid of the da™wa’s hierarchy is raised, writes al-Nísåbïrí. The forum of the community is the då™í’s house, whose door has to be open for every believer (mu¢min), including women and children, without exception (55).6 The believers come to the då™í to join in his recitals of the Qur¢an and his prayers (58). In the sessions (majålis) directed by the då™í, his task is to educate and admonish them.7 The atmosphere there has to be serene. Al-Nísåbïrí warns the då™í not to engage during the sessions in jokes or in easy-going, ill-mannered and unseemly talk (58). Instead, he has to make sure that social life in the community is founded on solidarity, mutual care and friendly relationships. If somebody is stirring up hostility and spreading hatred towards a brother of faith, the då™í has to prevent him from this and to suspend or even exclude him from the da™wa and the majlis (65). The då™í has to press the believers (ya˙aththu li¢lmu¢minín) to be obedient and honest towards the Imam, to love him and to give him their property and their souls (66). The då™í has to care for the needs of the believers. If necessary, he is to act as the intermediary between them and the state (59). The då™í, not the ruler (sul†ån) nor the judge (qå{í), holds judicial authority in the community. A believer who does not obey his verdict (˙ukm) strays from the right path (60). If a believer commits an offence, the då™í has to reprimand and punish him. If the offender is not willing to obey, the då™í has to exclude him from the community of believers. The då™í has to ensure from the believers their obedience, love and honesty towards the Imam. If the Imam gives an order, for example to engage in holy war (jihåd), the members of the community must follow it. They have to give their souls as well as their money into his hands, for ‘their salvation lies in their obedience towards him’ (wa najåtuhum fí †å™atihi). The då™í has to explain to them that the Imam is indebted to no one. Rather, it is he who bestows everything, be it worldly and passing (min a™rå{ al-dunyå), or wisdom (™ilm), a gift that comes from his goodwill and mercy (66).

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The då™í has to educate the believers not to be a burden to the Imam, but to express their interests and matters of concern in an appropriate manner through an intermediary and only at the time permitted. The believers are not allowed to ask for an increase in money. If the time has not yet come to satisfy their needs, they should not doubt or grieve (66). The då™í has to require of the believers that they agree with the deeds of the Imam and submit to his orders, prohibitions and sentences (al-taslím li-af ™ål al-imåm -™alayhi al-salåm-wa liawåmirihi wa nawåhihi wa a˙kåmihi) and act accordingly. They have to know that the Imam is the ‘sage of his time’ (˙akím alzamån) and ‘everything he does, he does out of wisdom’ (66, 68). The believers are obliged to hinder anybody who deceives the Imam in religious or political matters. If they do not succeed in this, they are to inform the Imam so as to prevent a further worsening of the situation (68f.). During the majlis, the då™í has to encourage the believers to accept their situation with gratitude and to tell them about the suffering (mi˙an, trials) plaguing them at other times. And if the present time is a time of discord (fitna), suffering and trials, the då™í shall calm down the believers by promising them joy and reward (fara˙ wa thawåb). If suffering or loss befalls a believer, the då™í shall listen to his complaint and matter at hand, feel sorry and compassion for him. He is to promise him compensation and reward, and help him as much as possible. If the då™í is too weak to help him, he should excuse himself and explain the situation – that while the current time is unfavourable, joy is near – so that the believer is strengthened in soul and heart. He should not reinforce the believer’s grief by not giving him sufficient attention, by speaking wrongly to him or by turning him away (60f.). The principle of submission to the Imam is justified by the Fatimid author and legal scholar al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån (d. 363/ 974) through recourse to the tradition extending back to the Shi™i Imam Ja™far al-Íådiq (d. 148/765): ‘Call for us silently’ (kïnï lanå du™åt ˚åmitín).8 Al-Nísåbïrí repeats this, saying in another context but in greater detail: ‘He was asked, “How then,

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son of the Messenger of God... can we call for you while we are silent?” He answered: “Do obediently ... what we ordered you ... and leave what we forbade you”.’ (12). Thus, the believers should call ‘with their acts, not with their tongues’ for the Imam, summarises al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån.9 The selection of the elite Al-Nísåbïrí advises the då™í to observe carefully every single member of his community and to listen to their words. He should evaluate who might be ‘suitable for religion’ (ya˚lu˙u li¢l-dín) (36), that is, who strives seriously for religion and whose mind is ready for reception of higher knowledge. The då™í has to select carefully and, in order to become certain of the knowledge and dignity of the potential candidate, undertake painstaking inquiries. Al-Nísåbïrí’s counsel is similar to that of al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån, who emphasises in his Kitåb al-Himma that it is of the utmost importance for the då™í to know every single member of his community. He has to know exactly what he can expect of individuals and how reliable they are. According to the Qå{í, this knowledge is the most distinctive and important (af{al) among the tasks of the då™í in the field of leadership and religious practice (fí båb al-siyåsåt wa’l-riyå{åt).10 It is all the more important that, in the jazíras under the control of ‘unjust rulers,’ the då™í’s selection of the future elite be undertaken with utmost care and commitment (ijtihåd) (52). The reason for selecting a candidate should be his qualification (kifåya), not personal protection (™inåya). Neither personal reasons, such as sympathy or antipathy, are allowed to play a role in this process (53); nor may the da™wa be handed over to somebody for settling services rendered, for personal use, or for materialist gain, or on the basis of pliability, modesty or fear. All these motives offend ‘religion, justice, honesty and sincerity (na˚í˙a) towards God and his Prophet.’ Furthermore, these are the main reasons for the misfortune that sometimes overcomes a religious order (52f.).

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If a candidate proves to be ambitious and ready for the reception of esoteric knowledge (qabïl al-ta¢wíl), if he is ‘intelligent, reasonable and respectable,’ if he lives according to the religious law (sharí™a), the då™í has to single him out for training (50). The members of the community who are chosen for the da™wa have to be unstained in body, in morals and religion. Every one of them has to be of an ‘upright stature,’ ‘free of extremism and shame.’ This ‘indicates his balanced temperament... and many other virtues.’ (43f.). His goodwill and motivation should also be proven (36). ‘And if your own personality is not in order and the pupil is infected by your depravity ... nobody other than you carries the responsibility (kåna al-wazn ™alaykum),’ warns al-Nísåbïrí directly (45). The oath of allegiance (™ahd) Al-Nísåbïrí’s treatise is one of the few sources which give authentic information about the the ™ahd (or míthåq), the mysterious oath of allegiance for admission into the Fatimid da™wa. The initiation is the first symbolical admission of an adept and the beginning of his graded introduction into the esoteric doctrines of the Ismaili faith. The Ismaili oath of allegiance has been clouded by the speculation and defamation of anti-Fatimid writers.11 A famous example of such polemic and slandering is the Kitåb al-balågh al-akbar (The Book of the Highest Initiation), which was widely distributed during the 4th/10th century in Sunni circles. The book speaks of nine stages of initiation, crowned by a revelation of the godless world of complete atheism. This book has finally been unmasked and characterised by Samuel M. Stern and Heinz Halm as a complete falsification.12 Also probably a fake is the form of the oath of allegiance rendered in the antiFatimid treatise of the Damascene Sharíf Akhï Mu˙sin Mu˙ammad b. ™Alí (written after 372/983), who himself claimed to be a descendant of Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl, the early Ismaili Imam.13 This lost treatise was used as a source for Fatimid history and institutions by the Mamlïk historians and

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compilers, as for example al-Nuwayrí, Ibn al-Dawådårí and alMaqrízí.14 Besides al-Nísåbïrí’s treatise, there is only one other source of detailed authentic information about the Fatimid oath of allegiance, the Kitåb al-™Ålim wa’l-ghulåm (Book of the Teacher and the Pupil), ascribed to Ja™far b. Man˚ïr al-Yaman, the son of the Iraqi då™í and ‘Conqueror of Yemen’ Ibn Óawshab.15 At the beginning of the section on the oath, al-Nísåbïrí first states that the då™í has to ‘break’ the former faith of the candidate (wa yaksiru ™indahï i™tiqådahï), so that no argument remains within him. The continuation of this part of the text will be rendered literally:16 Once he has broken it (that is, the former faith) and wants to administer the ™ahd to him, the custom (sunna) is to administer it to him after (the initiate) has fasted for three days. Both the då™í and the adept have to be ritually pure: both have to pray two rak™as (prostrations) to complete their purification. Then (the då™í) starts by praising and glorifying God, His Messenger and the pure Imams, and administers to him the ™ahd of God, of His angels, His Messengers, the authorised representatives (aw˚iya¢) and the Imams – peace be with them – as well as the ™ahd and homage (bay™a) to the Imam of the time (imåm zamånihi), as prescribed to him in the form of the ™ahd (kitåb al™ahd). (The då™í pledges him) to believe in God, in His angels, in His pure Imams – from the wa˚í (that is, the ‘trustee’ or representative of the Prophet Mu˙ammad, ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib, the first Shi™i Imam), down to the present Imam; to adhere to the exoteric (úåhir) as well as the esoteric (bå†in); to stand up for the Imam and not betray him; not to divulge the secrets of the religion to an unauthorised person or one who has not taken the ™ahd; not to betray any of the brothers who have taken the ™ahd with him; to be a friend to the friends of the Imams and an enemy to their enemies; to disassociate himself from their enemies; to be true to God and his friends; and should he break his vow, may his lot be that of the faithless and treacherous. (The då™í) then swears (the initiate) to the Imam of his time; to him (alone) he attributes knowledge (™ilm) without ascribing a single letter of it to himself. Once the initiate has taken the ™ahd and paid his homage, he will be nourished

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(rubbiya, like an infant) with knowledge, and the principles (u˚ïl) will be confided to him one by one; but at the beginning of his knowledge, he ought not to be burdened with too much, lest he should mix up everything, just as a child is ruined if he is given too much food at the beginning of his existence. So (the då™í) feeds him with light knowledge that he can absorb, and first teaches him the Unity (of God, taw˙íd), faith and obedience to God, to his Messenger and his Imam, as God has said: ‘Obey God and the Messenger and those among you who are meant to command’ (Qur¢ån, 4:59).

The initiate (mustajíb) In the terminology of the Fatimid da™wa, the newly initiated member is called al-mustajíb (al-mustajíbïn), that is, ‘the one who responds when summoned.’ As has been said by God in the Qur¢ån (2:186): ‘I answer the prayer of him who prays to Me. Therefore, let them respond to My call (ujíbu da™wata al-då™í idhå da™åní fa¢l-yastajíbï lí’).’ The då™í educates the initiates as a separate group in his house. The training consists of several stages, each consisting of a specific syllabus. After the då™í has introduced the mustajíb to the knowledge of Divine Unity, the Prophets and the Imams, he is taught about the various ranks and their stages (manåzil, sing. manzil) in the sacred hierarchy of the da™wa. Thereafter, he learns about the structure of the heavenly spheres (afåq, sing. afq) and the souls (anfus, sing. nafs) (47). The då™í must not be stingy and give his pupil less knowledge than he ‘deserves’ (yasta˙aqqu) (48). Similarly, he may not overfeed him, otherwise his mind will become confused and disordered. It is the duty of the då™í to answer every question in accordance with reason (fahm), intelligence (™aql) and the level of knowledge (daraja) possessed by the one who asks him. If the då™í gives the pupil an answer that does not correspond to his ability and rank, this answer will not convince him and will thus be useless. If he gives an answer that surpasses the level of comprehension of the one who asks, they will not be able to carry it (lå yu†íqu ˙amlahï) and their minds will be-

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come corrupted (fa yafsadu). ‘The clever då™í knows the degree of his knowledge from his question; and he will know if the question is from him or from someone else. Not every single question has to be answered...’ (48f.). If the mustajíb took the question from a book or from another person, the då™í has to check if there is a basis (a˚l, lit. ‘root’) for an answer. Then he has to answer him in accordance with what he needs and deserves. If there is no basis, the då™í has to tone down his answer; in this way he will know if the intention of the one who asks is learning. Not allowed to turn the pupil away, the då™í must provide answers which accord to what the questioner deserves. The då™í also has to arrange a particular time for the initiated believers (li’l-mu’minín al-bålighín), during which they can benefit from him and pose him questions in accordance to their level, without the generality of the mustajíbs (dïna ™åmmat al-mustajíbín) (49). The da™í’s assistant (ma¢dhïn) Al-Nísåbïrí does not mention a further vow or oath to be taken upon the completion of the mustajíb’s gradual training. However, the mustajíb has now reached a level that authorises him to take on an active role in the da™wa in the rank of ‘the grade of authorisation’ (˙add al-idhn), according to which he is called al-ma¢dhïn (pl. al-ma¢dhïnïn), ‘the one who is authorised’ (22). At first, the ma¢dhïn stays close to his teacher and gives lessons to the mustajíbín under the då™í’s supervision (51). Further, he attends the instructional session (majlis) designated especially for the ma¢dhïns (50). From among the ma¢dhïns, the då™í is to carefully select promising candidates. The group of initiates who are granted promotion thus becomes smaller and smaller in this selection process. Every stage of the training is accompanied by examinations to prove the qualifications of the candidate for a higher rank (50f.). The members of the community have the right to complain against a candidate at any time. The future då™í has to meet with the approval of all (wa ˚åra

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™inda al-jamí™ mur{iyyan) (51). It is not completely clear if alNísåbïrí means by this the approval of the whole community or of a committee of members. In any case, the objection of ‘two believing men’ is enough to prevent a candidate from assuming his office in the da™wa (52). Finally, at a certain level, the ma¢dhïn leaves the sphere of his master, but continues to work under his supervision. If he is able to prove himself, he will be promoted ‘step by step’ until he ‘is suitable’ (ya˚lu˙u) for a da™wa district (nå˙iya) or an (external) jazíra (51). Certainly he now has his own team of subordinate då™ís and is authorised to train mustajíbs and ma¢dhïns on his own. But even at this stage, the process of examination and selection is still at work. When his qualities have improved further and he has become perfect in all aspects, the leader of the jazíra will appoint him as his representative and substitute (an yakïna khalífatahï wa’l-™iwa{ minhï) (51). The apogee of this career is to become the ˙ujja, the ‘proof’ or guarantor of the Imam. The ˙ujja resides and works far away from the lands of the Imamate in an external jazíra, as alMu¢ayyad himself did in Iran. He then is the direct deputy of the chief då™í (båb) in Cairo from whom he receives his instructions.17 The subordinate då™í (mukåsir) Mukåsir means literally ‘the breaker.’ Obviously his duty was to attract people and to engage them in discussion of religious issues, with the aim of ‘breaking’ (mukåsara) their former beliefs and persuasions. According to al-Nísåbïrí, the activity of ‘breaking’ designates a rank (˙add) in the hierarchy of the da™wa (71).18 Although he does not explicitly mention particular activities and tasks connected with this rank, he writes that ‘the då™í has to send missionaries (du™åt) to the jazíras who speak the language of the population’ (38). In another passage of his treatise, al-Nísåbïrí becomes more detailed with regard to this special field of activity. Every då™í, he writes, should travel so as to inspect the jazíras, to know the nature of the people

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living there and the kind of knowledge they are longing for. Thus, he can choose somebody (from his subordinates) for them, someone ‘who discusses with them and breaks them’ (liyakhtåra lahum man yaqïmu bi-munåúaratihim wa mukåsaratihim) (36f.). According to al-Nísåbïrí, the skill of mukåsara is especially important during the religious debates which they initiate. He emphasises the usefulness of different kinds of knowledge and techniques, such as dialectics and rhetoric, for the då™í. With these skills, he ‘breaks’ (yaksiru) his opponents, fending off and dismissing their statements with sound arguments (bi¢l˙ujja) (15f.).19

Notes

Preface 1. One of these poems is translated and commented on by Alice C. Hunsberger, in her Nasir Khusraw, The Ruby of Badakhshan: A Portrait of the Persian Poet, Traveller and Philosopher (London, 2000), pp.62–69, quotation p.67. 2. On ®ayyibí Ismailism and the Bohras, see Farhad Daftary, A Short History of the Ismailis: Traditions of a Muslim Community (Edinburgh, 1998), pp.185–193. 3. See Heinz Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance (™ahd) and the “Sessions of Wisdom” (majålis al-˙ikma) in Fatimid Times,’ in Farhad Daftary, ed., Mediaeval Isma™ili History and Thought (Cambridge, 1996), pp.91–115; Samuel M. Stern, ‘Cairo as the Centre of the Ismå™ílí Movement,’ in S.M. Stern, Studies in Early Ismå™ílism (Jerusalem and Leiden, 1983), pp.234–256. 4. Paul E. Walker has produced a number of studies on this important Ismaili author, including Abï Ya™qïb al-Sijiståní: Intellectual Missionary (London, 1996). See also S.M. Stern, ‘Abï Ya™2ïb al-Sidjzí,’ in EI2, vol.1, p.160. 5. Verena Klemm, Die Mission des få†imidischen Agenten al-Mu¢ayyad fí d-dín in 1íråz (Frankfurt, 1989), pp.xiii–xx. 6. Among them: al-Ishåra ilå man nåla al-wizåra, by Ibn al-Íayrafí

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(d. 542/1147); Nuzhat al-muqlatayn fí akhbår al-dawlatayn, by Ibn al®uwayr (d. 617/1220); Akhbår Mi˚r by Ibn Muyassar (d. 677/1278); al-Khi†a† and Itti™åú al-˙unafå, by al-Maqrízí (d. 845/1442). 7. The seventh volume of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín’s ™Uyïn al-akhbår summarises the Síra and gives important informations about the last stage of al-Mu¢ayyad’s life and career. It was recently edited by Ayman Fu¢åd Sayyid and published, with an English summary, as The Fatimids and their Successors in Yaman (London, 2002). This most valuable source was already used by Bazat-Tahera Qutbuddin in her hitherto unpublished dissertation on al-Mu¢ayyad’s Díwån (see note 18 below). For a detailed survey of the sources and studies of Fatimid history, see Paul E. Walker, Exploring an Islamic Empire: Fatimid History and its Sources (London, 2002). 8. Al-Sijillåt al-Mustan˚iriyya, ed. ™A. Måjid (Cairo, 1954), pp.180f., 200f. 9. Husain al-Hamdani, ‘The History of the Ismå™ílí Da™wat and its Literature during the Last Phase of the Få†imid Empire,’ Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1932), pp.126–136. 10. Wladimir Ivanow, A Guide to Ismaili Literature (London, 1933), pp.47– 49; Ismail K. Poonawala, Biobibliography of Ismå™ílí Literature (Malibu, CA, 1977), pp.104–109; Adam Gacek, Catalogue of the Arabic Manuscripts in the Library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies (London, 1984–85), vol.1, nos. 14, 77, 99, 100, 146. See also by Delia Cortese, Arabic and Other Ismaili Manuscripts: A Descriptive Catalogue of Manuscripts in the Library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies (London, 2000), pp.61–68, and Arabic Ismaili Manuscripts: The Zåhid ™Alí Collection in the Library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies. (London, 2003), nos. 20, 32, 76, 95, 156. 11. Óåtim b. Ibråhím al-Óåmidí, Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq, ed. M. ™Abd alQådir ™Abd al-Nå˚ir (Cairo, 1975). 12. Al-Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya, vols 1 and 3, ed. Mu˚†afå Ghålib (Beirut, 1974–1984); vols 1 and 2, ed. Óåtim Óamíd al-Dín (Bombay and Oxford, 1395–1407/1975–86). 13. P. Kraus, ‘Beiträge zur islamischen Ketzergeschichte. Das Kitåb az-Zumurrud des Ibn ar-Råwandí,’ in Rivista degli Studi Orientali, 14 (1934), pp.93–129 and pp.335–379; reprinted in P. Kraus, Alchemie, Ketzerei, Apokryphen im frühen Islam, ed. R. Brague (Hildesheim, 1994), pp.109–190. 14. M.K. Óusayn in his introduction to the work, pp.27f. See also

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Poonawala, Biobibliography, p.107, and Wladimir Ivanow, Ismaili Literature: A Bibliographical Survey (Tehran, 1963), p.46. 15. Abbas Hamdani, The Síra of al-Mu¢ayyad fi’d-Dín ash-Shíråzí (Ph.D. thesis, School of Oriental and African Studies, London, 1950). 16. See note 5 above. 17. Al-Nísåbïrí’s text is integrated in the second volume of the Kitåb al-Azhår of Óasan b. Nï˙ al-Bharïchí (see Poonawala, Biobibliography, p.179). The manuscript was put at my disposal by the American University in Beirut. For the source see below, Chapter 4 and Appendix II. 18. Bazat-Tahera Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí: Founder of a New Tradition of Fatimid Da™wa Poetry (PhD. thesis, Harvard University, 1999). 19. Al-Kirmåní was active as då™í in Iran and Iraq during the reign of the Fatimid Caliph-Imam al-Óåkim bi-Amr Allåh (386–411/996– 1021). See Paul E. Walker’s Óåmíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní: Ismaili Thought in the Age of al-Óåkim (London, 1999), and J.T.P. de Bruijn, ‘al-Kirmåní, Óamíd al-Dín,’ EI2, vol.5, pp.166–167.

Chapter 1: Introduction 1. Guy Le Strange, The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate: Mesopotamia, Persia, and Central Asia from the Moslem Conquest to the Time of Timur (Cambridge, 1905), pp.249–252. 2. Some short autobiographical details about al-Mu¢ayyad and his father can be found in his Síra and Díwån. See Mu˙ammad Kåmil Óusayn’s introduction to his edition of the Díwån al-Mu¢ayyad fí¢l-Dín då™í al-du™åt (Cairo, 1949), pp.17–21, and Sírat al-Mu¢ayyad fí¢l-Dín då™í al-du™åt, ed. M. K. Óusayn (Cairo, 1949), p.14. There is a letter addressed to Mïså b. Då¢ïd by Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní, cited in his treatise Mabåsim al-bisharåt bi’l-Imåm al-Óåkim bi-Amr Allåh, in ®å¢ifat al-Durïz. Ta¢ríkhuhå wa ™aqå¢iduhå, by M.K. Óusayn (Cairo, 1962), pp.55–62. Cf. Klemm, Die Mission, pp.xi and 136–138, and Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.15–17. 3. Cf. C. Cahen, ‘Buwayhids or Bïyids,’ EI2, vol.1, pp.1350–1357. 4. Shainool Jiwa, ‘Få†imid-Bïyid Diplomacy during the Reign of al-™Azíz Billåh (365/975–386/996),’ Journal of Islamic Studies, 3 (1992), pp.57–71; Christoph J. Bürgel, Die Hofkorrespondenz ™A{ud ad-Daulas und ihr Verhältnis zu anderen historischen Quellen der frühen Bïyiden (Wiesbaden, 1965), p.148f.

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5. Síra, pp.5, 14. See also Harold Bowen, ‘Abu Kalídjår,’ EI2, vol.1, pp.131–132. 6. Anonymous, Óudïd al-™Ålam, p.137. For the Daylamí soldiers see also C.E. Bosworth, ‘Military Organisation under the Bïyids of Persia and Iraq,’ Oriens, 18–19 (1965–66), pp.143–167. 7. Daftary, Short History, p.43f, and for the Zaydí movement, p.30. 8. Louis Massignon, et. al., ‘Ta˚awwuf,’ EI2 , vol.10, pp.313–340, especially pp.313–316. 9. Samuel S. Stern, ‘Cairo as the Centre of the Ismå™ílí Movement,’ in Stern, Studies, pp.234–256. 10. The following sections on the structure of the Ismaili da™wa and the historical developments leading to the foundation of the Fatimid empire are based on Daftary, Short History, Chapters 2 and 3, and the studies of Heinz Halm, in particular his book Das Reich des Mahdi. Der Aufstieg der Fatimiden (875–973) (Munich, 1991), English trans. M. Bonner as The Empire of the Mahdi: The Rise of the Fatimids (Leiden, 1996), Chapters 1 and 2. The second volume of Halm’s Fatimid history has just been published as Die Kalifen von Kairo. Die Fatimiden in Ägypten, 973–1074 (Munich, 2003). For a concise overview on the historical development and the religious concepts of the early Ismailiyya, see Heinz Halm, Shiism (Edinburgh, 1991), pp.162– 178. 11. Abï ™Abd Allåh b. ™Alí b. Rizåm was a native of Kïfa. His antiIsmaili work, which has not survived, was written in the first half of the 4th/10th century. Despite its polemical character and tone, it contains some authentic information. It is cited by later authors such as al-Mas™ïdí, Ibn al-Nadím and in the lost work of the Akhï Mu˙sin (written after 372/983), which was also anti-Ismaili polemic. That work was copied in large parts in the works of the Egyptian historians of later times (Ibn ùåfir, Ibn al-Dawådårí, al-Nuwayrí, al-Maqrízí). See Halm, Empire of the Mahdi, pp.6 and 425. 12. Halm, Empire of the Mahdi, p.26. Many details about the beginnings of the Ismaili da™wa in southern Iraq are given in the chronicle of the historian Mu˙ammad b. Jarír al-®abarí (d. 310/923). He cited a record of a police interrogation of a contemporary då™í, arrested in 294/907. See his Ta¢ríkh al-rusul wa’l-mulïk, ed. M.J. de Goeje et al. (Leiden, 1879–1901), III, pp.2124–2127 ; English trans., The History of al-®abarí: Volume XXXVII, The ™Abbasid Recovery, trans. P.M. Fields (Albany, NY, 1987), pp.169–175. 13. An overview of the da™wa in these regions is given by Abbas al-

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Hamdani in his short study, The Beginnings of the Ismå™ílí Da™wa in Northern India (Cairo, 1956), and S.M. Stern, ‘Ismå™ílí Propaganda and Fatimid Rule in Sind,’ in Stern, Studies, pp.177–188. 14. The pioneering work of the Iraqi då™í Ibn Óawshab in Yemen is the subject of his autobiographical record Sírat Ibn Óawshab which has been preserved in the works of later authors, e.g. Iftitå˙ al-da™wa of al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån, and ™Uyïn al-akhbår (Parts 4 and 5) of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín. Cf. Heinz Halm, ‘Die Sírat Ibn Óau0ab. Die ismailitische da™wa im Jemen und die Fatimiden,’ Die Welt des Orients, 12 (1981), pp.107–135. 15. For a unique, first-hand record of the activities and conversations of Abï ™Abd Allåh al-Shí™í and Abu’l-™Abbås in North Africa, see Ibn al-Haytham’s Kitåb al-Munåúaråt, ed. and trans. Wilferd Madelung and Paul E. Walker as The Advent of the Fatimids: A Contemporary Shi™i Witness (London, 2000). 16. A very personal and authentic report of al-Mahdí in Salamiyya, his adventurous flight to North Africa via the da™wa bases in Palestine and Egypt, and his arrival in North Africa was dictated by al-Mahdí’s chamberlain Ja™far in retrospect. The source, known as Sírat Ja™far alÓåjib, was related by a later author, Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad al-Yamåní. The Arabic text was edited by W. Ivanow, Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts, University of Egypt, 4 (1936), pp.107–133, and translated in his Ismaili Tradition Concerning the Rise of the Fatimids, pp.184–23. 17. The term då™í al-du™åt is found mainly in the works of non-Ismaili (Sunni) historians of the Fatimid state. It is rarely mentioned in Ismaili sources where the more technical and religious title båb or båb al-abwåb (Supreme Gate) is used to designate the chief då™í. See Daftary, The Ismå™ílís, p.227. 18. Abï Bakr b. ™Abd Allåh b. al-Dawådårí, Kanz al-durar wa jåmi™ al-ghurar, vol.6, al-Durar al-mu{í™a fí akhbår al-dawla al-Få†imiyya, ed. Íalå˙ al-Dín al-Munajjid (Cairo, 1380/1961), p.272. Ibn al-Jawzí, Abu’l-Faraj ™Abd al-Ra˙mån, al-Muntaúam fí ta¢ríkh al-mulïk wa¢l-umam (Haydarabad, 1357–59/1938–40), vol.8, pp.272f.; Klemm, Die Mission, pp.129–133. 19. George Makdisi, Ibn ™Aqíl et la résurgence de l’Islam traditionaliste au XIe siècle (Damascus, 1963), pp.281–327. Erika Glassen, Der Mittlere Weg. Studien zur Religionspolitik und Religiosität der späten Abbasidenzeit (Wiesbaden, 1981), pp.9–34.

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Chapter 2: The rise and fall of a då™í 1. The ahl al-bayt are the members of the Prophet’s family, and by extension the Shi™i community as a whole, who trace back the genealogy of their Imams to Få†ima, the daughter of Mu˙ammad, and his son-in-law ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib. Al-Mu¢ayyad uses this term here in respect of the Ismailis in particular. 2. To determine the end of Rama{ån, the Ismailis use the method of ˙isåb, i.e., by astronomical calculation, in contrast to the Sunnis who break the fast upon the visible appearance of the new moon. 3. Abï Kålíjår’s wazír between 418/1027 and 433/1041–42. Historians praise al-™Ådil for his intelligence, honesty and reason. He was a patron of sciences and donated a famous library with several thousand books and a collection of precious calligraphies. See Ibn al-Jawzí, al-Muntaúam fí ta¢ríkh al-mulïk wa’l-umam (Haydarabad, 1357– 59/1938–40), vol.8, p.111; Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh (Beirut, 1385–87/1965–67), vol.9, pp.360, 502; Ibn al-Balkhí, Fårs-nåma, ed. G. Le Strange and R.A. Nicholson (Cambridge, 1921), pp.166, 139. 4. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s enemy was ™Abd Allåh, the supreme judge of Fårs. The author Ibn al-Balkhí, who wrote at the beginning of the 6th/ 12th century in Fårs, tells in his book Fårs-nåma, p.119, that ™Abd Allåh tried to shield Abï Kålíjår from the influence of an Ismaili propagandist named Abï Na˚r b. ™Imrån, i.e., al-Mu¢ayyad (see the following chapter). For the qå{í’s family, a dynasty of very influential judges, see Fårs-nåma, p.117. ™Abd Allåh’s grandfather was supreme judge of the Bïyid lands of Fårs, Kirmån, Makrån and ™Umån during the reign of the Abbasid Caliph al-Rå{í Bi’llåh (322–29/934–40) and the Bïyid ™A{ud al-Dawla. 5. See Appendix 2, on the duties and responsibilities of a då™í, section on ‘The community of believers (al-qawm).’ 6. In the history of Islamic arts, the Fatimids played an outstanding role. They were masters of beautiful and subtly decorated architecture, sculptural and textile arts. Since the legitimacy of the Fatimid Caliph-Imams was religious, sacral art – such as Friday mosques, mosques and commemorative buildings – was of particular importance and a symbolic expression of the dynasty’s spiritual base of power. Cf. Marianne Barrucand, ‘Des constructeurs de talent,’ in Trésors fatimides de Caire (Paris, 1998), pp.60–69. This book, which is the catalogue of an exhibition held in Paris in 1998, contains numerous examples of Fatimid art and architecture. 7. According to Ibn Khallikån,Wafayåt al-a™yån, ed. I˙sån ™Abbås

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(Beirut, 1968–72), vol.5, p.124, Fakhr al-Mulk Abï Ghålib Mu˙ammad b. ™Abd Allåh was one of the most powerful Bïyid wazírs. From 390/1000 to 401/1011 he was supreme official and consultant of the Bïyid amír al-umarå¢ Bahå¢ al-Dawla, who resided in Shíråz. In 401 he was sent to Baghdad where he was executed six years later during the reign of Bahå¢ al-Dawla’s successor Sul†ån al-Dawla. Fakhr al-Mulk is praised for his piety, virtuousness and charity. He was a patron of science and literature. He legalised the hitherto forbidden feasts and ceremonies of the Twelver Shi™is and financed the restoration of the shrines of the Imams ™Alí and al-Óusayn. Ibn Kathír writes that he had a ‘tendency towards the Shi™a.’ Cf. Ibn Kathír, al-Bidåya wa’l-nihåya fí¢l-ta¢ríkh (Beirut and Riyad, 1966), vol.12, p.5f. 8. There are more cases of influential and high-ranking persons who have been converted through disputations with Ismaili då™ís such as A˙mad b. ™Alí (governor of Rayy during 307–11/919–24) by Abï Óåtim al-Råzí, and the Såmånid amir Na˚r II b. A˙mad (301–31/ 914–43) by the då™í al-Nasafí. See Daftary,The Ismå™ílís: Their History and Doctrines, p.121; Halm, Empire of the Mahdi, p.63; and also Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-dín al-Shíråzí, p.27, note 35. 9. The Da™å¢im al-Islåm is the normative compendium of Ismaili law composed by the Fatimid chief qå{í, al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån (d. 363/ 974), ed. Asaf A.A. Fyzee (Cairo, 1951–61); English trans. A.A.A. Fyzee and revised by Ismaili K. Poonawala as The Pillars of Islam (New Delhi, 2002), vol.1. 10. A poem of praise that al-Mu¢ayyad addressed to Abï Kålíjår in happier times is to be found in his Díwån, p.299. It is translated and commented in Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.28f. 11. Translation, with a few minor adjustments, from Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.30–41, according to the Díwån, no. 62, pp.317–322. The poem is in the metre of rajaz and has the form of a qa˚ída muzdawija. 12. ™Abbås was the uncle of the Prophet Mu˙ammad, and alMurta{å (the Favourite) is one of the epithets of Imam ™Alí. 13. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.41. 14. Mudhahhib al-Dawla Abï Man˚ïr Hibat Allåh b. A˙mad alFasawí. According to the chronicles, he was the successor of al-™Ådil, who died in 433/1041–42. Cf. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.502. 15. Ibn al-Mushtarí ™Abd al-Wahhåb b. Man˚ïr b. A˙mad Ahwåzí (d. 436/1044), Shåfi™í head of jurisdiction in Ahwåz and its surround-

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ings. He was held in high esteem by the caliph and the Bïyids. He was an expert and collector of Prophetic Traditions (mu˙addith) and led an irreproachable life. Ibn al-Jawzí, al-Muntaúam, vol.8, p.120; alKha†íb al-Baghdådí, Ta¢ríkh Baghdåd (Beirut, 1967, reprint of the 1349/1931 edition), vol.9, p.33. 16. ™Alí b. al-Óasan Abu’l-Qåsim Ibn al-Muslima (397– 450/1006– 58). Secretary and since 437/1045 wazír (ra¢ís al-ru¢aså¢) of the Caliph al-Qå¢im, Ibn al-Muslima is considered the motor of the traditionalist, anti-Shi™i politics of Baghdad during the reign of al-Qå¢im. He was the one who invited the Saljïq leader ®oghril Beg to enter Baghdad and take over military power from the Bïyids (cf. Makdisi, Ibn ™Aqíl, pp.90–102). He died under the torture of Arslån al-Basåsírí, the Saljïq rebel and temporary occupier of Baghdad, with whom alMu¢ayyad would negotiate later in his life (see Chapter 6). 17. Díwån, partly translated by Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín alShíråzí, pp.43–46. 18. There were many books written by Sunni jurists and polemicists to discredit the Ismailis and to prove that the Fatimid dynasty was not descended from the Prophet Mu˙ammad. Beginning with Ibn Rizåm in the 4th/10th century, this genre of anti-Ismaili literature reached its climax in the anti-Fatimid manifesto sponsored by the Abbasid Caliphs al-Qådir and al-Qå¢im mentioned in Chapter 1 above. 19. Man˚ïr b. al-Óusayn al-Asadí was, from 418–50/1027–58, chief of one of the two leading clans of the Arab tribe of Banï Asad. His territory was situated west of Ahwåz between the rivers Tigris and Kårïn. The alliance between his clan and Abï Kålíjår went back to 418/1027, when Man˚ïr drove away his predeccesor, loyal to Abï Kålíjår’s brother and rival Jalål al-Dawla, the supreme amir (amír alumarå¢) in Baghdad. Thereafter Man˚ïr came under the protection of Abï Kålíjår. Cf. Ibn al-Jawzí, al-Muntaúam, vol.8, 201; Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí¢l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.368f.; Heribert Busse, Chalif und Grosskönig. Die Bïyiden im Iraq (945–1055), (Beirut, 1969), p.101. 20. Abï ®åhir Jalål al-Dawla b. Bahå¢ al-Dawla b. ™A{ud al-Dawla b. Bïya died when he was 52 years old. He had been supreme amir for 16 years during the reign of the Abbasid Caliphs al-Qådir and alQå¢im. See Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.516. 21. In 436/1044–45, the Bedouin amir Qirwåsh b. al-Muqallad, ruler of northern and central Mesopotamia, temporarily paid allegiance to the Fatimid Caliph al-Mustan˚ir. In 401/1010 he had already

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paid allegiance to the Fatimid Caliph al-Óåkim (see above, chapter 1). Cf. Taqí al-Dín A˙mad b. ™Alí al-Maqrízí, Itti™åú al-˙unafå¢ bi akhbår al-a¢imma al-Få†imiyyín al-khulafå¢, ed. Jamål al-Dín al-Shayyål and M.Ó.M. A˙mad (Cairo, 1967–73), vol.2, p.193; and Ibn al-Athír, alKåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.223. 22. Óillat Dubays b. Mazyad, the centre of the territory of Banï Mazyad, a sub-tribe of the Asad. Their leader Nïr al-Dawla Dubays (408–74/1018–82) was an ally of Abï Kålíjår. 23. Abï Kålíjår died on 4 Jumåda I, 440/15 October, 1048 at the age of 40 in Jannåb, south of the city of Kirmån, fighting against the governor who had allied himself with the Saljïq general Qåwurd, a nephew of ®oghril Beg. After his death the city and province of Kirmån came under the rule of a Saljïq dynasty. Abï Kålíjår’s son Abï Na˚r Khusraw Fírïz (440–47/1048–55) was appointed supreme commander in Baghdad. He would be the last Bïyid in this office. See Ibn al-Jawzí, al-Muntaúam, vol.8, p.139; Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’lta¢ríkh, vol.9, pp.547f.; M. Th. Houtsma, ‘Zur Geschichte der Selguqen von Kermån,’ Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, 39 (1885), pp.367–371; and Harold Bowen, ‘The Last Buwayhids,’ Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1929), pp.234f.

Chapter 3: Al-Mu¢ayyad’s memoirs as a source for history 1. After the temporary shift of the ™Uqaylid leader to the Fatimid cause (referred to in the Síra) – this was 436/1044 – and one or two years before the first audience with the Imam al-Mustan˚ir in Sha™bån 439/1048. Klemm, Die Mission, p.42; Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí alDín al-Shíråzí, p.54. For indications of when the first part of the Síra was written, see M.K. Óusayn’s introduction to Síra, p.26f. 2. See Klemm, Die Mission, Chapter 7, for more details. 3. Ibn al-Balkhí, Fårs-nåma, pp.117–119. 4. Ibid., p.117. For ™Abd Allåh, see Chapter 2, note 4 above. 5. Ibn al-Balkhí, Fårs-nåma, p.117. 6. Ibn al-Jawzí, al-Muntaúam, vol.8, p.96. 7. The coins from Shíråz date from the years 430–33/1038–42, from ™Umån 433 and 434/1042–43. See A.D.H. Bivar and S.M. Stern, ‘The Coinage of Oman under Abï Kålíjår the Buwayhid,’ Numismatic Chronicle, 6th series, 18 (1958), pp.153f., 155f.; Wilferd Madelung, ‘The Assumption of the Title Shåhånshåh by the Bïyids and “The

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Reign of the Daylam” (Dawlat al-Daylam),’ Journal of Near Eastern Studies, 28 (1969), pp.181f. 8. Abu’l-Fa{l Mu˙ammad b. Óusayn Bayhaqí, Ta¢ríkh-i Bayhaqí, ed. ™Alí Akbar Fayyå{ (Mashhad, 1971), pp.728–733, 834f. Clifford E. Bosworth, The Ghaznavids: Their Empire in Afghanistan and Eastern Iran, 994–1040 (2nd ed., Beirut, 1973), pp.251–260. For an overview of the Saljïq invasion, see The Cambridge History of Iran:Volume 5, The Saljuq and the Mongol Periods, ed. J.A. Boyle (Cambridge, 1968), Chapter 1.1: ‘The Eastern Iranian World on the Eve of the Turkish Invasion,’ by C.E. Bosworth. 9. Ta¢ríkh-i Sístån, ed. Malik al-Shu™arå¢ Bahår (Tehran, 1314/ 1935), p.365. 10. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.472. 11. Busse, Chalif, p.234; see Chapter 2, note 3 above. 12. Abï Man˚ïr Muhadhdhib al-Dawla Hibat Allåh b. A˙mad alFasawí was Abï Kålíjår’s wazír for only a short time. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí¢l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.502. 13. See Chapter 2, note 15 above. 14. See Chapter 2, note 16 above. 15. Formulated only a few years before the Ismaili intermezzo at the Bïyid court by the Shåfi™í qå{í Abu’l-Óasan al-Måwardí in his famous legal treatise al-A˙kåm al-sul†åniyya. Måwardí’s aim was to defend the legitimacy of the Abbasid caliphate and to restore his prestige and authority in view of the diverging elements in Muslim society. Henri Laoust, ‘La Pensée et l’action politiques d’al-Måwardí (364– 450/974–1058),’ Revue des Etudes Islamiques, 26 (1968), pp.11–92. 16. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí¢l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, p.526, 529; Ibn al-Balkhí, Fårs-nåma, p.133.

Chapter 4: The self-portrayal of a då™í 1. Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad al-Yamåní, Sírat al-Óåjib Ja™far b. ™Alí, ed. W. Ivanow, in Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts, University of Egypt, 4, Part 2 (1936), pp.107–133. English trans. W. Ivanow, in his Ismaili Tradition Concerning the Rise of the Fatimids, pp.184–223. 2. Fragments of the text are edited by S.M. Stern, ‘al-Mahdí’s Reign according to the ™Uyïn al-akhbår,’ in his Studies, pp.96–152. For Ibn al-Haytham and his work, see the introduction of Madelung and Walker to The Advent of the Fatimids, pp.1–59. 3. See Chapter 1, note 14 above.

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4. Abï ™Alí Man˚ïr al-™Azízí al-Jawdharí, Sírat al-ustådh Jawdhar, ed. M. Kåmil Óusayn and M. ™Abd al-Hådí Sha™íra (Cairo, 1374/1954), French trans. Marius Canard, Vie de l’Ustadh Jaudhar (Algiers, 1958). 5. For these, the above mentioned and other siyar, see Klemm, Die Mission, pp.106–17. 6. Translation from Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.52f. 7. The text, contained in the second volume of the Kitåb al-Azhår of Óasan b. Nï˙ al-Bharïchí, is edited in facsimile by Klemm, Mission, pp.206–77, from a manuscript of the American University of Beirut. The author al-Nísåbïrí is particularily known for his book Istitår al-imåm wa tafarruq al-du™åt fí’l-jazå¢ir li-†alabihi, dealing with the beginnings of the Fatimid da™wa in Iraq, the events in Salamiyya and the flight of ™Abd Allåh al-Mahdí to North Africa (see chapter 1 above). This work is edited (Cairo, 1936) and translated into English by W. Ivanow in his Ismaili Tradition Concerning the Rise of the Fatimids, pp.157– 183. 8. Here and in the following citations, the number refers to the pagination in the facsimile edition of the Risåla in Klemm, Mission (see n. 7). 9. In Ismaili literature, al-Nísåbïrí’s Risåla seems to have been the only monograph on the adab of the då™í. One chapter of al-Qå{í alNu™mån’s Kitåb al-Himma fi ådåb atbå™ al-a¢imma (The Book of the High Ambition for the Norms of Conduct Concerning the Followers of the Imams), ed. M. Kåmil Óusayn (Cairo, ca. 1948), written some decades before the Risåla, deals with the tasks of the då™í in undertaking his work. Since terminology and content of the two texts often correspond, it is highly probable that al-Nísåbïrí’s epistle is an elaboration of the Qå{í’s short treatise on the subject. 10. For the oath of allegiance, the symbolic apogee of the initiation of the då™í, see Halm. ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance (™ahd),’ in Daftary, ed., Mediaeval Isma™ili History and Thought, pp.91–99, and Klemm, Mission, pp.200f.(according to al-Nísåbïrí’s Risåla). 11. Cf. Abbas al-Hamdani, ‘Evolution of the Organisational Structure of the Få†imí Da™wah: The Yemeni and Persian Contribution,’ Arabian Studies 3 (1976), p 100; Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní, Rå˙at al™aql, ed. M. Kåmil Óusayn and M. Mu˚†afå Óilmí (Cairo and Leiden, 1953), p.256. 12. W. Madelung, ‘Ismå™íliyya,’ in EI2, vol.4, pp.203f.; Hamdani, ‘Evolution,’ pp.99f.

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Chapter 5: Al-Mu¢ayyad at the Fatimid court in Cairo 1. Síra, pp.80–100; Klemm, Die Mission, pp.xixf.; see also Chapter 6 below. 2. Al-Fallå˙í was the successor of Najíb al-Dawla ™Alí b. A˙mad alJarjarå¢í who died in 436/1045. Cf. Ibn al-Íayrafí, al-Ishåra ilå man nål al-wizåra, ed. ™Abd Allåh Mukhli˚ (Cairo, 1925), pp.37f. 3. Qåsim b. ™Abd al-™Azíz b. al-Nu™mån was the head of the judiciary and the da™wa from Dhu’l-Qa™da 427/August 1036. Cf. Ibn Óajar al-™Asqalåní, Raf™ al-™i˚r, in Abï ™Umar Mu˙ammad b. Yïsuf al-Kindí, Kitåb al-Wulåt wa Kitåb al-Qu{åt, ed. Rhuvon Guest asThe Governors and Judges of Egypt (Leiden and London, 1912), pp.497, 613. His ancestor was the famous al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån. See R. Gottheil, ‘A Distinguished Family of Fatimid Cadis (an-Nu™mån) in the Tenth Century,’ Journal of the American Oriental Society, 27 (1906), pp.217– 296. 4. Taqí al-Dín A˙mad b. ™Alí al-Maqrízí, Kitåb al-Mawå™iú wa¢l-i™tibår bi dhikr al-khi†a† wa¢l-åthår (Bïlåq, 1270/1853–54), vol.1, p.355. For al-Mustan˚ir’s mother and al-Tustarí, see al-Maqrízí, Itti™åú, vol.2, pp.141, 152, 190f. 5. Cf. al-Maqrízí, Itti™åú, vol.2, p.195, and Ibn al-Sayrafí, Ishåra, pp.36f. See also Nå˚ir-i Khusraw,Safar-nåma, ed. and French trans. Charles Schefer as Sefer Nameh. Relation du voyage de Nassiri Khosrau (Paris, 1881; repr. Amsterdam, 1970), pp.159f. 6. Translation from Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.58. 7. Abï Mu˙ammad al-Óusayn b. ™Abd al-Ra˙mån al-Yåzïrí, a Palestinian qå{í, al-Maqrízí. Itti™åú, vol.2, pp.199f. 8. Abu’l-Barakåt al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Jarjarå¢í was nephew of the the wazír Abu’l-Qåsim al-Jarjarå¢í. Described as tyrannical, he was dismissed and banned to Tyros in Shawwål 441/February 1050 after holding office for 19 months. Ibn al-Íayrafí, Ishåra, pp.38f.; alMaqrízí, Itti™åú, vol.2, pp.197, 210; Ibn Muyassar, Akhbår Mi˚r, ed. Ayman Fu¢åd Sayyid (Cairo, 1981), pp.6, 9. 9. Abu’l-™Abbås A˙mad al-Qalqashandí, Íub˙ al-a™shå (Cairo, 1332– 57/1914–38), vol.3, p.450. 10. An intertextual reference to another early poem by al-Mu¢ayyad. 11. Translation from Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.61.

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Chapter 6: Al-Mu¢ayyad’s political mission in northern Syria 1. The most detailed account of the dynamic events in northern Syria and Iraq at the beginning of the Saljïq invasion is contained in Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí¢l-ta¢ríkh, as well as in Sib† Ibn al-Jawzí, Mir¢åt al-zamån fí ta¢ríkh al-a™yån. Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín’s ™Uyïn al-akhbår, vol.7 (see Preface, note 7 above), gives only a summary of al-Mu¢ayyad’s report (with some verses from his Díwån) and does not integrate much other information from Fatimid sources. A German study promises closer examination of the Fatimid enterprise in north Syria by taking into consideration not only the written historical sources but also numismatic and archaeological evidence: Stefan Heidemann, Die Renaissance der Städte in Nordsyrien und Nordmesopotamien. Städtische Entwicklung und wirtschaftliche Bedingungen in ar-Raqqa und Harran von der Zeit der beduinischen Vorherrschaft bis zu den Seldschuken (Leiden, 2002). 2. Heinz Halm, ‘Der Wesir al-Kundurí und die Fitna von Ní0åpïr,’ Die Welt des Orients, 6 (1970–71), pp.213f. 3. See M. Canard, ‘al-Basåsírí, Abï’l-Óårith Arslån al-Muúaffar,’ EI2, vol.1, pp.1073–74. 4. Ibid., for these incidents and developments in Baghdad. On the role of Ibn al-Muslima, see Makdisi, Ibn ™Aqíl, pp.90–102, and Glassen, Der Mittlere Weg, pp.43f. 5. See above, note 1. 6. See also the article on al-Basåsírí cited in note 3 above. 7. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.65, n. 99. 8. Thimål b. Íåli˙ threw off Fatimid rule in 434/1043. See Ibn al™Adím, Zubdat al-˙alab min ta¢ríkh Óalab, ed. Såmí al-Dahhån (Damascus, 1370–87/1951–68), vol.1, pp.260f. 9. See Chapters 1 and 2 above. 10. Sib† Ibn al-Jawzí, Mir¢åt al-zamån, ed. Ali Sevim (Ankara, 1968), p.6. 11. As al-Mu¢ayyad tells us, he spent ‘a whole year or more’ in Ra˙ba. There he arrived in Íafar 448/April 1056 or shortly later (date of the contract with al-Basåsírí, Síra, 124). He returned to Egypt when Ibråhím ìnål left Mosul for Hamadån (ibid., 176). This happened in Rama{ån 450/October 1058 (Sib† Ibn al-Jawzí, Mir¢åt, p.31). In Dhu’l-Qa™da 449/January 1058, Aleppo’s most famous citadel had been handed over by Thimål to the Egyptian officer Makín al-Dawla Ibn Mulham: Abï Ya™lå Óamza. Cf. Ibn al-Qalånisí, Dhayl ta¢ríkh

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Dimashq, ed. H.F. Amedroz (Leiden and Beirut, 1908), p.86; alMaqrízí, Itti™åú, vol 2, p.235. 12. This is the year when the Mirdåsid prince Thimål b. Íåli˙ of Aleppo died. In his postscript, al-Mu¢ayyad adds to his name the formula Ra˙imuhï Allåh, ‘God have mercy on him’ (Síra, 174). 13. Síra, pp.174–184. 14. Cf. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh , vol.9, p.640; Sib† Ibn alJawzí, Mir¢åt, p.31. 15. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí’l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, pp.639f., 645; Sib† Ibn alJawzí, Mir¢åt, p.31. 16. Abu’l-Faraj Mu˙ammad b. al-Óusayn al-Maghribí was appointed wazír in Rabí™ I 450/May 1058 after ™Abd Allåh al-Båbulí, successor of al-Yåzïrí, who had been killed some months before. In Rama{ån 452/October 1060, al-Maghribí was relieved by al-Båbulí again (alMaqrízí, Itti™åú, vol.2, pp.251, 261, 322). For the Maghribí clan, many of whose members were famous politicians and literati, see P. Smoor, ‘Maghribí, Banï,’ EI2, vol.5, pp.1210–1212. 17. As quoted in Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.73. 18. Sib† Ibn al-Jawzí, Mir¢åt, pp.47ff., 52ff. See also Makdisi, Ibn ™Aqíl, pp.101f.; Glassen, Der Mittlere Weg, p.44. Al-Mu¢ayyad’s record of these events seems to be a supplement to his postscript. 19. Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí¢l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, pp.648–650; Sib† Ibn alJawzí, Mir¢åt, pp.66f. Al-Basåsírí was killed in Dhu’l-Óijja 451/January, 1060. 20. Sib† Ibn al-Jawzí, Mir¢åt, pp.34ff.; Ibn al-Athír, al-Kåmil fí¢l-ta¢ríkh, vol.9, pp.640ff.; al-Kha†íb al-Baghdådí, Ta¢ríkh Baghdåd, vol.9, pp.399ff.; Ibn al-Jawzí, al-Muntaúam, pp.191–212; Makdisi, Ibn ™Aqíl, pp.90ff. 21. Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, ™Uyïn al-akhbår, vol.7, ed. Ayman Fu¢åd Sayyid, text p.74.

Chapter 7: Al-Mu¢ayyad as chief då™í in Cairo 1. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.73f., trans. of the poem, p.75. Source of the information and verses so far: Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, ™Uyïn al-akhbår, vol.7, pp.75f. The section dealing with alMu¢ayyad as då™í al-du™åt covers pp.76–84. 2. The information is most accurately collected and presented by Tahera Qutbuddin in her dissertation, pp.73–92. Qutbuddin is the first researcher who has extensively made use of the information

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collected in the seventh volume of ™Uyïn al-akhbår on al-Mu¢ayyad. The historical information in the present chapter thus comes largely from her research. For Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, see Walker, Exploring an Islamic Empire, p.164 and passim; Halm, Shi™ism, pp.194f.; Daftary, Short History, p.5. 3. See Chapter 1, note 17 above, on the usage of the two titles båb al-abwåb and då™í al-du™åt. In the following sections, we have preferred to use the later term to maintain consistency. 4. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.85f. The reference to al-Mu¢ayyad’s ‘stuttering’ is from a poem he wrote in exile. The reproach could have been meant in a figurative sense, i.e., the wazír did not like al-Mu¢ayyad’s reading of the majålis for whatever reasons. 5. Ibn al-Íayrafí, al-Ishåra, p.86, reports that the wazír sent alMu¢ayyad with other political rivals to Syria (al-Shåm). 6. The epistle of ‘al-Mu¢ayyad’s recall from exile and reinstatement as då™í al-du™åt ‘is preserved in the ®ayyibí da™wa Library. The manuscript is edited and translated by Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí alDín al-Shíråzí, Appendix D, pp.365–369. 7. In the recent edition of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín’s ™Uyïn al-akhbår, vol.7, by Ayman Fu¢åd Sayyid, the document is cited on pp.77–79; Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, Appendix E, pp.355–363. 8. These were the forefathers of the first Fatimid Imam ™Abd Allåh (™Ubayd Allåh) al-Mahdí and his successors in North Africa and Egypt who lived incognito in the northern Syrian town of Salamiyya (see Chapter 1 above). 9. Translation from Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.355 f., with minor adjustments; original text in Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, ™Uyïn al-akhbår, vol.7, pp.80f. 10. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.357; Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, ™Uyïn al-akhbår, vol.7, p.81. 11. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, pp.357f.; Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, ™Uyïn al-akhbår,vol.7, pp.81f. 12. Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance,’ p.109; Qutbuddin, alMu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.78 and note 127. For the Dår al-™Ilm, see Paul Walker, ‘Fatimid Institutions of Learning,’ Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt, 34 (1997), pp.179–200, and Heinz Halm, The Fatimids and their Traditions of Learning (London, 1997), pp.71– 78. The most important Arabic source is al-Maqrízí, al-Khi†a†, vol.1, pp.458–460.

notes

143

13. For more details of the following items, see Appendix 2 which renders the tasks of the då™í according to our most informative source, the Risåla al-mïjaza, written by the då™í A˙mad b. Ibråhím al-Nísåbïrí. See also Klemm, Die Mission, pp.200–204. 14. The singular exception to the male-dominated leadership of the Fatimid da™wa known to us is that of the famous Íulay˙id queen of Yemen, al-Malika al-Sayyida Óurra, referred to later in this chapter. 15. Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance,’ pp.108f. 16. Cited in al-Maqrízí, al-Khi†a†, vol.1, p.391. For translation and comment see Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance,’ pp.102f. 17. Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance,’ p.103 (following alMaqrízí, al-Khi†a†, vol.1, p.391). 18. The two partial editions of al-Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya are vols 1 and 3 by Mu˚†afå Ghålib (Beirut, 1974–84), and vols 1 and 2 by Óåtim Óamíd al-Dín (Oxford and Bombay, 1395–1407/1975–86). 19. Óåtim b. Ibråhím al-Óåmidí, Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq, ed. M. ™Abd alQådir ™Abd al-Nå˚ir (Cairo, 1975). 20. Al-Majålis, nos. 613–18. Abridged version in Óåtim b. Ibråhím al-Óåmidí, Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq, vol.2, pp.227–241. The complete correspondence is edited by I˙sån ™Abbås in Raså¢il Abi¢l- ™Alå¢ al-Ma™arrí, vol.1 (Beirut and Cairo, 1982), pp.83–140. English trans. in D.S. Margoliouth, ‘Abu’l-™Alå al-Ma™arrí’s Correspondence on Vegetarianism,’ Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1902), pp.289–332. 21. I˙sån ™Abbås, Raså¢il, pp.85–87. 22. Al-Majålis, nos.517–21; al-Óåmidí, Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq, vol.2, nos. 84–88. 23. For example the Druzes, who deify the Fatimid Imam al-Óåkim. 24. Translation by W. Ivanow, Problems in Nasir-i Khusraw’s Biography (Bombay, 1956), pp.21–40, reproduced with modifications in Hunsberger, Nasir Khusraw, pp.55–69. 25. The fountain of Paradise. 26. The angel at the gate of Paradise. 27. By using the active form of the participle, al-mu¢ayyid, the poet alludes to the honorific title (laqab) of his teacher al-Mu™ayyad fi’lDín, that is a participle passive, which means ‘the one aided (by God) in religion.’ 28. This reference is to the Imam al-Mu˚tansir. 29. Hunsberger, Nasir Khusraw, pp.60–69. See also her analysis in respect of the descriptive and metaphorical parts of the poem, pp.69– 71.

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30. Cf. Daftary, Short History, pp.103f. 31. Óusain al-Hamdåní, al-Íulay˙iyyïn (Cairo, 1955), pp.261–265, which also cites the works of al-Mu¢ayyad brought to Yemen by the qå{í Lamak. See also Poonawala, Biobibliography, pp.133–184. 32. Al-Hamdåní, al-Íulay˙iyyïn, pp.224–227. 33. Al-Mustan˚ir bi’llåh, al-Sijillåt al-Mustan˚iriyya, nos. 55 and 61, pp.180f., 200f. Cf. Husain al-Hamdåní, ‘The Letters of al-Mustan˚ir bi¢llåh,’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental Studies, 7 (1933–35), pp.307– 324. 34. Farhad Daftary, ‘Sayyida Óurra: The Ismå™ílí Íulay˙id Queen of Yemen’ in Gavin R.G. Hambly, ed., Women in the Medieval Islamic World (New York, 1998), pp.117–130. On the Íulay˙id dynasty (439– 532/1047–1138), see Daftary, Short History, pp.104–106. 35. A concise overview on the development of ®ayyibí Ismailism is presented in Halm, Shiism, pp.193–205. 36. For the political and economic crises in Egypt and the military reign of Badr al-Jamålí, see Daftary, Short History, pp.105f. 37. Al-Maqrízí, Itti™åú, vol.2, p.319. Cf. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.91. 38. Qutbuddin, al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí, p.91, according to ™Uyïn al-Akhbår of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín, vol.7. 39. Ibid. For al-Mu¢ayyad’s burial in the Dår al-™Ilm, see also alMaqrízí, al-Khi†a†, vol.1, p.460.

Appendix 2: The hierarchy and pedagogy of the Fatimid da™wa 1. For more information on al-Nísåbïrí’s important treatise see Chapter 4 above, and note 6 below. See also Halm,The Fatimids and their Traditions of Learning, Chapter 5, ‘The Organization of the da™wa,’ pp.56–70, and Daftary, Short History, pp.91–93. 2. Kitåb al-Himma fí ådåb atbå™ al-a¢imma, ed. M. Kåmil Óusayn (Cairo, 1948). Abridged Eng. trans. J. Muscati and A.M. Moulvi, Selections from Qazi Noaman’s Kitab-ul-Himma; or Code of Conduct for the Followers of the Imam (Karachi, 1950). See also Chapter 4, note 9 above. 3. See Chapter 4 above, and Poonawala, Biobibliography, pp.91f. 4. Daftary, Short History, p.89; For more details see the study by Paul E. Walker, Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní: Ismaili Thought in the Age of al-Óåkim (London, 1999). 5. I do not translate literally, even if I intend to render al-Nísåbïrí’s terminology adequately.

notes

145

6. The numbers in brackets refer to the pagination of the manuscript carried out by myself in the facsimile edition which can be found in my book Die Mission (see Bibliography). I carried out the numeration of the folia. The Risåla was rendered by the Yemeni då™í Óåtim b. Ibråhím al-Óåmidí (d. 596/1199) in his work Tu˙fat alqulïb. As al-Óåmidí writes, he only omitted an introductory longer comment. In this shortened form it was inserted by the Indian Ismaili då™í Óasan b. Nï˙ al-Bharïchí into the second volume of this anthology of Ismaili da™wa literature, the Kitåb al-Azhår. There the Risåla is entitled al-Risåla al-mïjaza al-kåfiya fí shurï† al-da™wa al-hådiya (see Klemm, Die Mission, 65f., 205). In 1987, Wadad al-Qadi (now at the University of Chicago) kindly provided me with a microfilm of a manuscript of the second volume of al-Bharïchí’s Kitåb al-Azhår from the collection of the American University of Beirut (MS 292.822 B141KA). Later, I handed over the microfilm to the manuscript collection of the Library of the University of Tübingen, Germany. A summary of al-Nísåbïrí’s Risåla is already given by Wladimir Ivanow in his article, ‘The Organization of the Fatimid Propaganda,’ in Journal of the Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, 15 (1939), pp.1–35. Ivanow used an English translation of the text, published in small numbers in Burhanpur, India, around 1920. He also had an Arabic version of the text which he does not describe or refer to in his article. In his summary of the Risåla, the passage on the administration of the oath of allegiance is missing. By comparing his rendering of the Risåla with the Arabic text of my copy, I noticed considerable differences in terms of text and order. 7. For the institution of the majålis, see Chapter 7 above. 8. Kitåb al-Himma, p.136. For the prominent role of Ja™far al-Íådiq in Twelver Shi™ism (where he is considered the sixth Imam) and Ismaili Shi™ism (where he is the fifth Imam), see Halm, Shiism, pp.29–31, 162 (and index). 9. Kitåb al-Himma, p.136. 10. Ibid., p.137. 11. See Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance (™ahd),’ tr. by Azizeh Azodi in Daftary, ed., Mediaeval Isma™ili History and Thought, p.91. 12. S.M. Stern, ‘The Book of the Highest Initiation and other AntiIsmå™ílí Travesties,’ in Stern, Studies, pp.56–83. 13. See the Introduction of the present study. 14. Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance (™ahd),’ pp.94–97 (incl. translation).

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15. Ibid., pp.92f., 94–97. This important text was recently edited and translated by James W. Morris as The Master and the Disciple: An Early Islamic Spiritual Dialogue (London, 2001). 16. Halm, ‘The Isma™ili Oath of Allegiance (™ahd),’ pp.93f.; for the original text see Klemm, Mission, folia 45 u.–47, pp.231–233. 17. A. Hamdani, ‘Evolution of the Organisational Structure of the Få†imí Da™wah. The Yemeni and Persian Contribution,’ Arabian Studies 3 (1976), pp.101f.. For the evolution of terminology as well as function of the ˙ujja, see W. Madelung, ‘Das Imamat in der frühen ismailitischen Lehre,’ pp.61f. 18. Daftary, Short History, p.98. 19. See Chapter 4 above, and Halm, The Fatimids and their Traditions of Learning, pp.65f.

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Institute du Monde Arabe. Trésors fatimides de Caire. Paris, 1998. Ivanow, Wladimir. A Guide to Ismaili Literature. London, 1933. —–‘The Organization of the Fatimid Propaganda,’ Journal of the Bombay Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, New Series, 15 (1939), pp.1–35. —–Ismaili Tradition Concerning the Rise of the Fatimids. London, etc., 1942. —–Problems in Nasir-i Khusraw’s Biography. Bombay, 1956. —–Ismaili Literature: A Bibliographical Survey. Tehran, 1963. Jiwa, Shainool. ‘Få†imid-Bïyid Diplomacy during the Reign of al-™Azíz Billåh (365/975–386/996),’ Journal of Islamic Studies, 3 (1992), pp.57–71. Klemm, Verena. Die Mission des få†imidischen Agenten al-Mu’ayyad fí ddín in 1íråz. Frankfurt, 1989 . Kraus, Paul. ‘Beiträge zur islamischen Ketzergeschichte. Das Kitåb az-Zumurrud des Ibn ar-Råwandí,’ Rivista degli Studi Orientali, 14 (1934), pp.93–129 and 335–379; reprinted in P. Kraus, Alchemie, Ketzerei, Apokryphen im frühen Islam, ed. R. Brague. Hildesheim, 1994, pp.109–190. Laoust, Henri. ‘La Pensée et l’action politiques d’al-Måwardí (364– 450/974–1058),’ Revue des Etudes Islamiques, 26 (1968), pp.11–92. Le Strange, Guy. The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate. Cambridge, 1905. Madelung, Wilferd. ‘Das Imamat in der frühen ismailitischen Lehre,’ Der Islam, 37 (1961), pp.43–135. —–‘The Assumption of the Title Shåhånshåh by the Bïyids and “The Reign of the Daylam” (Dawlat al-Daylam),’ Journal of Near Eastern Studies, 28 (1969), pp.84–108, 168–183; reprinted in W. Madelung, Religious and Ethnic Movements in Medieval Islam. Hampshire, 1992, article VIII. Makdisi, George. Ibn ™Aqíl et la résurgence de l’Islam traditionaliste au XIe siècle. Damascus, 1963. Margoliouth, David S. ‘Abu’l-™Alå al-Ma™arrí’s Correspondence on Vegetarianism,’ Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (1902), pp.289–332. Massignon, Louis, et. al. ‘Ta˚awwuf,’ EI2 , vol.10, pp.313–340. Poonawala, Ismaili K. Biobibliography of Ismå™ílí Literature. Malibu, CA, 1977. Qutbuddin, Bazat-Tahera. al-Mu¢ayyad fí al-Dín al-Shíråzí: Founder of a New Tradition of Fatimid Da™wa Poetry. Ph.D. thesis, Harvard University, 1999.

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Smoor, Pieter. ‘Maghribí, Banï,’ EI2, vol.5, pp.1210–1212. Stern, Samuel M. Studies in Early Ismå™ílism. Jerusalem and Leiden, 1983. Walker, Paul E. Abï Ya™qïb al-Sijiståní: Intellectual Missionary. London, 1996. —–‘Fatimid Institutions of Learning,’ Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt, 34 (1997), pp.179–200. —–Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní: Ismaili Thought in the Age of al-Óåkim. London, 1999. —–Exploring an Islamic Empire: Fatimid History and its Sources. London, 2002.

Index

™Adan (Aden) 9 al-™Ådil Bahråm b. Måfanna 21–23, 25, 29, 35, 48, 51, 63, 64 ™A{ud al-Dawla, Bïyid ruler 2, 3, 109 Afghanistan 9 Africans 12, 104 Aghlabids, Aghlabid dynasty 11 ™ahd, míthåq (oath of allegiance) 93, 100, 122– 123 ahl al-bayt 20 A˙mad b. Marwån 81 Ahwåz 8, 23, 24, 33, 35, 36, 41, 42, 43, 51, 64 al-Ahwåzí, Óusayn 8, 9 Akhï Mu˙sin, Sharíf Mu˙ammad b. ™Alí 122 Aleppo 12, 81, 83, 84, 89, 92, 96 Alexander 31

™Abbås, I˙sån 96 Abbasids, Abbasid dynasty xiii, 1–14 passim, 35, 39, 43, 47, 49, 52, 65, 78, 79, 82, 85, 86, 107–112 passim ™Abd Allåh al-Akbar, Ismaili Imam 7–8, 10 ™Abd Allåh al-Mahdí 7, 10, 11, 56 ™Abd Allåh, qå{í of Fårs 46 Abï ™Abd Allåh al-Óusayn b. A˙mad al-Shí™í 9, 11 Abï Óanífa 28, 149 Abï Óåtim al-Råzí 4, 134 Abï Kålíjår ™Imåd al-Dín Marzubån xiii, xiv, xv, 4, 5, 13, 15, 19–44 passim, 46–53 passim, 64, 66, 80, 106, 108–110 passim Abï Na˚r b. ™Imrån 46 Abu’l-™Abbås 9 Abu’l-Ma™ålí ™Alí b. al-Asad 101

154

index

155

Algeria 9 ™Alí b. Abí ®ålib, first Shi™i Imam 8, 27, 37, 39, 43, 66, 86, 123 al-Åmir, Fatimid Caliph-Imam 103 Amï Daryå (Oxus) river 15, 101 Arwå bint A˙mad, al-Malika alSayyida Óurra 103 ™Åshïrå¢ 96 ™Askar Mukram 8 al-Åmir, Fatimid Imam-Caliph 103 ™Aqíl b. Abí ®ålib 8 ™aql 96 al-Azhar 11, 73, 94 al-™Azíz, Fatimid Caliph-Imam xviii, 58, 74, 117

Bukhårå 9 Bïyids, Bïyid dynasty xvi, xviii, 1, 2, 3–5, 13, 14, 15, 19, 20, 24, 25, 30, 35, 36, 38, 39, 42, 43, 44, 45–53 passim, 65, 66, 78, 79, 80, 106–110 passim Byzantines, Byzantine empire 1, 37, 50, 79, 97

båb 90 see also då™í al-du™åt Badakhshån xiv, 101 Badr al-Jamålí 104, 107 Baghdad xiii, xviii, 1, 3, 5, 12, 13, 14, 15, 35, 39, 43, 48, 49, 51, 52, 65, 78–86 passim, 108, 110, 112 Bahå¢ al-Dawla, Bïyid amir 3 Ba˙rayn 10 Balkh 101 Baså 23, 24, 32, 48, 64 al-Basåsírí, Abu’l-Óårith xvi, 15, 75, 79, 80–86 passim, 96, 111, 112 Ba˚ra 8, 36 bå†in (esoteric meaning) 25, 62, 95, 123 Berbers 12, 104 Bohra community xv, xvii, 57, 102

Da™å¢im al-Islåm of al-Qå{í alNu™mån 29 då™í 58, 59, 60–63, 119–127 då™í al-du™åt (chief då™í ) 58, 59, 91, 93–95 see also alMu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí Damascus 10, 12 Dandånqån, battle of 49 Dår al-Óikma, (House of Wisdom) 93 Dår al-™Ilm xiv, 6, 11, 93, 102, 105 Då¢ïdís 103 da™wa xiii, xiv, xv, xviii, xx, 2, 3, 5–7, 30, 45, 55–62 passim, 64, 66, 70, 73, 74, 75, 77, 85, 90–95 passim, 101–105 passim, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111; organisation of 117–127

Cairo xiii, xiv, 1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 11, 12, 29, 31, 33, 44, 51, 65, 75, 80, 81, 82, 83, 87, 90, 93, 95, 96, 97, 99, 101, 104, 108, 109, 112 Caspian Sea 3, 4, 9, 101 Central Asia 1, 9, 14, 107, 130 ‘creed of al-Qådir’ (al-i™tiqåd alQådirí) 14

156

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Daylam, Daylamís 4, 5, 9, 13, 20–24 passim, 35–42 passim, 46, 47, 48, 49, 51, 64, 108, 109 Díwan of al-Mu¢ayyad xvii, 40, 57 díwån al-inshå¢ (Fatimid chancery) xiv, 11, 45, 74– 76 Dubays b. Mazyad, Mazyadid ruler 82 Egypt xiii, xix, 6, 11, 15, 19, 20, 30, 33, 39, 40, 43, 51, 53, 58, 66, 67, 69, 76, 80, 81, 84, 97, 102, 103, 104 Euphrates river 47, 50, 82, 85 Fakhr al-Mulk 3, 25, 47 al-Fallå˙í 70, 71, 72 Fårs xiii, 1–7, 9, 13, 14, 15, 19, 36, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 51, 52, 69, 79, 80, 92, 109, 112 Fårs-nåma of Ibn al-Balkhí 46 Få†ima, the Prophet’s daughter 6, 33, 41, 132 Fatimid empire, Fatimid dynasty xvi, xviii, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7–13, 14, 15, 20, 24, 31, 35, 39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 45– 53 passim, 55, 56, 58, 64, 65, 66, 69–77, 78–86 passim, 89–94 passim, 96, 102, 103, 104, 106–112 passim Ghålib, Mu˚†afå xvii Ghaznavids 15, 49, 108 ghulåt (extremists) 96

Gílån 9 Gujarat 102, 103 Gurgån 9 al-Óadítha 85 ˙ajj (pilgrimage) 80, 93, 96 al-Óåkim bi-Amr Allåh, Fatimid Caliph-Imam xviii, 2, 12, 13, 58, 93, 74, 103, 117, 118 Óalab (Aleppo) 50, 69 Halm, Heinz xx, 8, 122 Hamadån 49, 84 Óamdån Qarma† 10 Hamdani, Abbas xvii al-Hamdåní, Óusayn xvi, 106 al-Óåmidí, Óåtim b. Ibråhím xvii, 95 Óanbalí school 14 Óaråz xv, 103 al-Óasan, early Shi™i imam 7, 37, 135, 148 Hashemites 33 Óilla 42, 82 Óillat Ibn Mazyad 43, 52 ˙udïd (hierarchy) 118 ˙ujja (proof) 8, 90, 101, 103, 126, 127 Óulwån 79 al-Óusayn, early Shi™i imam 37, 43, 96 Óusayn, Mu˙ammad Kåmil xvii Ibn al-Balkhí 46, 47 Ibn Badrån 84 Ibn Óawshab, also known as Man˚ïr al-Yaman 9, 56, 123 Ibn al-Haytham 56

index

157

Ibn Is˙åq 55 Ibn al-Mudabbir 91 Ibn al-Mushtarí 35, 42, 51, 134 Ibn al-Muslima 36, 39, 42, 51, 52, 65, 79, 80, 85, 112 Ibn al-Nu™mån 70, 73, 74 Ibn al-Råwandí xvii, 96 Ibn Rizåm 8, 9 Ibn Waththåb of Óarrån, Numayrid ruler 81 Ibråhím ìnål 49, 83–84 Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín xvi, xviii, 57, 86, 90, 91 ™ilm (knowledge) 59, 62–63 ™Imåd al-Dawla 4 Imams, Ismaili 6–7, 10, 25, 37, 56, 59, 62, 91, 117, 123, 124; Shi™i 6, 28, 36, 43 see also Fatimids India 9, 104 Indus valley 9 Iran 75, 79, 110 Iraq 7, 10, 12, 13, 49, 52, 70, 81, 82, 84, 85, 86, 107, 111, 112 Ismå™íl, Ismaili Imam 6, 7 Ivanow, Wladimir xvii

jazíra (islands, diocese) 2, 59, 61, 94, 102, 126 Jerusalem 91

Ja™far Man˚ïr al-Yaman 56, 123 Ja™far al-Íådiq, Shi™i Imam , 6, 7, 120 Jalål al-Dawla 13, 43, 48, 52, 108, 110 Jåmi™ al-˙aqå¢iq of al-Óåmidí xvii, 95 Jannåba 42 al-Jarjarå¢í, ™Alí b. A˙mad 69, 71, 72, 73

Lamak b. Målik al-Óammådí xv, 102

Kåkïyids of Hamadån 15, 49, 108 Karbalå¢ 43, 96 Khuråsån, Khuråsånís 9, 29, 49, 108 khu†ba 29, 82, 84, 112 Khïzistån xiv, 3, 7, 8, 13, 51, 52, 92 Kirmån 3, 4, 9, 13, 44, 49, 52, 92, 118 al-Kirmåní, Óamíd al-Dín xix, 118 Kitåb al-™Ålim wa’l-ghulåm of Ja™far b. Man˚ïr al-Yaman 123 Kitåb al-Himma fi ådåb atbå™ ala¢imma of al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån 117, 121 Kitåb al-Zumurrud of Ibn alRåwandí xvii, 96 Kïfa 9, 10, 82, 85 al-Kundurí, ™Amíd al-Mulk 79 Kurds 81, 82 Kutåma Berbers 9, 11

al-Ma™arrí, Abu’l-™Alå¢ xvi, xvii, 96, 116 ma¢dhïn (da™í’s assistant) 94, 125–126 al-Maghribí, Abu’l-Faraj 84, 89, 93 al-Mahdí, Fatimid CaliphImam see ™Abd Allåh

158

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al-Mahdí al-Mahdiyya 56 Ma˙mïd of Ghazna 102 majålis xix, 23, 64, 73, 94, 95, 114, 119 majålis al-˙ikma xv, 73, 94 al-Majålis al-Mu¢ayyadiyya of alMu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín xvii, 95–97 al-Majålis al-Mustan˚iriyya of Abu’l-Qåsim al-Malíjí 95 al-Malik al-Ra˙ím, Bïyid ruler 80 Man˚ïr b. al-Óusayn 42 Marwånids 81 Mas™ïd, Ghaznavid ruler 49 Maymïn al-Qaddå˙ 8 Mazår-i Sharíf 101 Mazyadid 42, 82 Mecca 9, 12 Medina 7, 12 Mesopotamia xiv, 9, 53, 79 Michael IV, Byzantine Emperor 50 Mirdåsid 81 Mosul 43, 82, 83, 84 al-Mu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín al-Shíråzí: and Abï Kålíjår 24–44 passim, 46, 47–8, 50–54; background and early life 2–3; in Cairo 43–44, 45, 53; as då™í al-du™åt xiii, xiv, xv, 2, 45, 75, 89–93, 97, 102, 105; death 104–105; head of Fatimid chancery 74–76; and Nå˚ir-i Khusraw xiv, 97–102; mission in Shíråz 19–35; negotiations with al-Basåsírí; poetry of xviii, 32–35, 40, 57, 76–77;

studies of xvi–xvii; and Sunnis in Fårs 19, 20, 21, 25, 28, 29, 36, 38, 39 see also al-Majålis alMu¢ayyadiyya; al-Síra al-Mu¢ayyadiyya al-Mubårakiyya 7 al-Mu™izz, Fatimid CaliphImam 11 Mu™izz al-Dawla 3, 4, 11 Mu˙ammad al-Fazårí 47 Mu˙ammad b. Is˙åq 55 Mu˙ammad b. Ismå™íl, Ismaili Imam 7, 8, 10, 122 Mu˙ammad the Prophet 5, 6, 13, 25, 27, 35, 37, 41, 55, 56, 62, 86, 99, 101, 123 mukåsir (subordinate då™í) 59, 94, 126–127 Mïså al-Kåúim, Twelver Shi™i Imam 6 Mïså b. Dåwïd, al-Mu¢ayyad’s father 2, 3, 47 al-Musabbi˙í 94, 95 mustajíb (initiate) 62, 93, 124– 125 Musta™lí-®ayyibí xv al-Mustan˚ir, Fatimid CaliphImam xiii, xiv, xv, xvi, 12, 15, 29, 35, 41, 43, 44, 50, 51, 53, 63, 64, 66, 69, 71, 76, 77, 81, 82, 85, 86, 89, 91, 94, 95, 103, 104, 105, 107, 110, 111, 112, 115 Mu™tazila 13, 96 Najaf 43 Najrån 103 Nå˚ir-i Khusraw xiv, 97–102 al-Nawbakhtí 6

index neoplatonism xv, 118 al-Nísåbïrí, A˙mad b. Ibråhím xvii–xviii, 58–63, 64, 65, 107, 108, 117–127 Níshåpïr (Nísåbïr, Arabic Naysåbïr) 9, 49, 118 North Africa 6, 10, 11 Numayrid Bedouins 50, 81 Palestine 12 Palmyrene 10 Pamir mountains 101 Poonawala, Ismail K. xvii Prophetic Traditions 28, 29, 134 qå{í ™Abd Allåh 47 al-Qå{í al-Nu™mån 94, 95, 117, 120, 121 al-Qådir, Abbasid caliph 13, 14, 52 al-Qå¢im, Abbasid caliph 13, 14, 48, 51, 52, 80 al-Qalqashandí 74 Qarma†ís 10 qawm (community of believers) 119 Qayrawån 11 Qirwåsh b. al-Muqallad, ™Uqaylid ruler 13, 43 qiyås (syllogism) 28, 29 al-Qummí 6 Qur¢an 5, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 38, 59, 60, 62, 63, 85, 116, 118, 119 Quraysh b. Badrån, ™Uqaylid leader 82 Qu˚tan†ína (Constantine) 9 Qutbuddin, Bazat-Tahera xviii, xx

159

Rå˙at al-™aql of Óamíd al-Dín al-Kirmåní 118 al-Ra˙ba 80, 82, 83 Raqqåda 11, 56 Rayy (Rhages) 7, 79 al-Risåla al-mïjaza al-kåfiya fí adab al-du™åt of A˙mad b. Ibråhím al-Nísåbïrí xvii, 58–63 107, 117–127 Rukn al-Dawla 4 Sabaeans 97 Sa™íd b. al-Óusayn 10 Salamiyya 8, 10, 11, 56 Saljïqs xiv, 14, 15, 44, 46, 49, 53, 70, 78–85 passim, 107, 108, 110, 112 Sawåd of Kïfa 9, 85 al-Shåfi™í 28, 134, 137 sharí™a 96, 99, 122 Shi™is, Shi™ism 3, 14, 20, 23, 35, 36, 37, 51; Twelvers 3, 6, 13 Shíråz 2, 19–44 passim, 45, 46, 48, 51, 52, 53, 55, 63, 70, 71, 77, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110 al-Sijiståní, Abï Ya™qïb xv Sinjår 82 síra: genre of 55–60 al-Síra al-Mu¢ayyadiyya of alMu¢ayyad fi’l-Dín Shíråzí xiii, xi, 19; editions and studies of xvi–xvii; as a historical source xvii, 45– 54; message of 63–66; significance of xvi, 106– 112; written xvi Sírat Ibn Óawshab of Ja™far b. Man˚ïr al-Yaman 56

160

memoirs of a mission

Sírat al-Imåm al-Mahdí of Ibn al-Haytham 56 Sírat Ja™far al-Óåjib 56 Sírat al-nabí¢ of Mu˙ammad b. Is˙åq 55 Sírat al-ustådh Jawdhar of Abï ™Alí Man˚ïr al-Jawdharí 56 Sístån 49 siyåsa (authority) 59, 60–61, 63 Stern, Samuel M. 122 Sufis 5, 22, 36 al-Íulay˙í, ™Alí xv, 102 Íulay˙id dynasty xv, 102–103 Sulaymånís 103 Sunna 5, 28, 52 Sunnis, Sunni Islam xiii, 3–8 passim 12–15 passim, 19, 20, 21, 25, 28, 29, 36, 38, 39, 46, 47, 50, 51, 52, 80, 101, 109, 112 Syria, Syrians xiv, 6, 8, 50, 75, 78, 80, 81, 89, 90, 96, 104, 111 ®abåristån 9 Tajikistan 101 ®åliqån 10 taqwå (obedience) 59, 60, 63 ®aråbulus (Tripoli) 12 taw˙íd (unity) 124 ta¢wíl (interpretation) 25, 27, 29, 62, 96, 114, 116, 122 Ta¢wíl al-da™å¢im of al-Qå{í alNu™mån 95 ®ayyibí Ismailis xiii, 102–4;

då™í mu†laq 90, 103 Thimål b. Íåli˙, Mirdåsid prince 81, 83 ®oghril Beg xviii, 15, 49, 79, 80, 82–86 passim Transoxania 9, 101 Turkomans xii, xvi, xviii, 7, 14, 35, 39, 49, 79, 92, 108, 110, 112 Turks 12, 47, 71, 104 al-Tustarí, Abï Sa™d 70, 71, 139 Tyros 84 ™Umån 13, 52, 133, 136 ™Uqaylids, ™Uqaylid dynasty 12, 43, 82 ™Uyïn al-akhbår of Idrís ™Imåd al-Dín xvi, 57, 86, 90, 91 Uzbekistan 9 Wåsi† 82, 85 al-Yåzïrí 72, 73–75, 80, 81, 95 Yemen xvii, 4, 6, 9, 10, 56, 57, 86, 90, 95, 102–104 Yumgån 101 Zagros 79 úåhir (exoteric meaning) 25, 62, 94, 123 al-ùåhir li-I™zåz Dín Allåh, Fatimid Caliph-Imam xv, 3, 71 Zayd b. ™Alí 4 Zaydís 3, 4, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41