The Life and Works of Jāḥiẓ

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ •

•

A VOLUME IN

THE ISLAMIC WORLD SERIES G. E. VON GRUNEBAUM, GENERAL EDITOR

The Life and Works of Jâhiz •

•

Translations of selected texts CHARLES PELLAT Translated from the French by D. M. Hawke

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS BERKELEY AND LOS ANGELES

1969

r~\

7_U \3 University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH by D. M. Hawke

FRENCH TEXT ©

1967 ARTEMIS VERLAG, ZÜRICH

THIS TRANSLATION

0

1969 BY THE

Regents of the University of California LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER 69-12475 Printed in Great Britain

CONTENTS Introduction

xiii PART ONE JÀHIz’S LIFE AND WORKS

I II

Jâhiz’s life Jâhiz’s works

3 10

PART TWO TEXTS IN TRANSLATION

I Semi-political, semi-theological works AN ACCOUNT OF MU'TAZILITE DOCTRINE

I

II

III

IV

The merits of dogmatic theology as a calling 1. Dialectic and its dangers 2. Dialectic and the exact sciences

32 33

Questions and answers about knowledge 1. Forms of knowledge 2. Refutation of al-Nazzâm and his disciples 3. The author’s view

33 34 35

Traditions and the requirements for their authen¬ ticity The Byzantines and their beliefs

38

Proofs of prophecy 1. Scope of this book 2. Why earlier generations did not collect together the proofs of the Prophet 3. The need for the transmission of traditions 4. It takes all sorts to make a world 5. The concept of prophetic history 6. Proofs of prophecy 7. Inimitableness of the Koran

V The createdness of the Koran The inquisition undergone by Ibn Hanbal

39 40 41 42 44 45 47 48

138355

CONTENTS

VI

VI VII - VIII

Concerning the book on legal opinions Dedication of the book

50

Concerning anthropomorphism Importance of refuting the anthropomorphists

51

Drink and the drinker 1. Lawfulness of nabidh 2. Medina has no monopoly on the truth

52 53

IX Justification of nabïdh 1. The effects of nabïdh 2. Al-Hasan b. Wahb’s nabïdh

54 54

DEFENCE OF THE 'ABBÂSIDS AGAINST THEIR OPPONENTS

X The 'Abbâsids The Prophet’s estate

56

XI Superiority of the Banü Hàshim to the 'Abd Shams 1. Nobility of the Hfishimites 58 2. Umayyads and 'Abbâsids 59 3. Mu'àwiya’s hilm 61 XII An account of Shfiite doctrine 1. The community’s attitude towards 'All [b. Abi Tfilib] 2. Need for an imam XIII

XIV

Reply on the imamate 1. There must be but a single imam 2. Portrait of the ideal imam

62 63

64 65

Support for 'All over the arbitration by two arbiters 1. Mu'âwiya and the caliphate 66 2. The shrewdness of 'All [b. Abi Tfilib] 67 3. A lesson in textual criticism 68 4. The arguments of Mu'àwiya’s supporters 69 5. Refutation 71

XV The 'Uthmfiniyya 1. Abü Bakr’s conversion 2. The image of a military leader and the psy¬ chology of the soldier 3. Does the Koran contain a verse in favour of 'Ali?

73 74 76

CONTENTS

4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

The situation on the Prophet’s death The common people and the aristocracy Theology and the common people Establishment of an imam Procedure for accession to the imamate

XVI The Nàbita 1. The assassination of'Uthmân 2. Mu'àwiya b. Abï Sufyàn 3. The createdness of the Koran 4. The Shu'übites

VU

77 78 79 80 81 83 84 85 85

XVII Refutation of the Christians 1. Judaism and Christianity in Arabia before and under Islam 2. Wherein lies the apparent superiority of Christians 3. Is Jesus the son of God? 4. The Holy Ghost

87 88 89

XVIII The merits of the Turks and of the Imperial army as a whole 1. Enemies of authority 2. The unity of the Imperial army 3. The Turk as a horseman 4. National characteristics

91 92 92 95

86

II Jàhiz’s own particular type of adab LITERARY WORKS

XIX Elegance of expression and clarity of exposition 1. The wisdom of al-Ahnaf b. Qais 2. Accents and mimics 3. Expression 4. Portrait of Abü Shimr 5. Fine language 6. The Taghlabi lad and his stick 7. Al-Ma’mün’s opinion of Jàhiz’s books 8. Jàhiz’s training 9. The Prophet’s attainments XX Eloquence and conciseness Prolixity and conciseness

100 101 102 104 104 106 108 109 110 111

CONTENTS

Vlll

Schoolmasters Advice to schoolmasters

113

The skills of the masters [of guilds] Professional illiteracy

114

XXIII

Funeral oration

116

XXIV

Character sketch

122

Attack on the [present] day The evils of our time

122

Types of singers Science and music

124

XXI XXII

XXV

XXVI

QUASI-SCIENTIFIC WORKS

XXVII

XXVIII

The circle and the square 1. Portrait 2. Embarrassing questions 3. Sindl sandals 4. Mirrors 5. The author’s real aim

126 127 128 129 130

Animals 1. In praise of books 2. Translation and bilingualism 3. Al-Akhfash’s books 4. All tastes are found in nature 5. How different social groups show their piety 6. Good and evil 7. Man is a microcosm 8. Murder and retaliation 9. A severe bite 10. Happiness 11. Creation is proof of the existence of the creator 12. A child saved by a bitch 13. Drunkenness 14. Portrait of al-Nazzàm 15. The use of dogs by the ‘Stranglers’ 16. The cunning of the fox and of the dog 17. The sharing out of the chickens 18. Sahl b. Hârün and his chicken 19. Anecdote

130 133 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 143 143 144 145 146 146 147 148

CONTENTS

20. The atom 21. Noah’s dove 22. The price of pigeons 23. How to receive extraordinary tales 24. The Arabs’ knowledge of zoology 25. Dialogue with a carpenter 26. Evidence of the existence of God 27. The cadi and the fly 28. The man who was brought back to life 29. An unscrupulous alchemist 30. Metamorphosed creatures 31. Vipers’ eyes 32. A severe snake-bite 33. The author’s confidences 34. Scorpion-stings 35. A tale about a snake 36. Musailima the false prophet 37. Deafness and dumbness 38. More of the author’s confidences 39. Difficulty of the subject-matter 40. The reasons for Zoroaster’s success 41. Snake-poison and the camel foal 42. A tale about midges 43. Man’s superiority to other animals 44. Prolixity and conciseness 45. Why the author has nothing to say about fish 46. Wild and domestic animals 47. Doubt and conviction 48. Pride in animals and man 49. Devils and the secrets of heaven 50. A tiresome slave 51. Plea for divine assistance 52. The language of birds 53. The largest animals 54. Fear in certain animals 55. Superiority of the camel 56. The elephant’s ear XXIX

Mules 1. A forged tradition 2. Origin of the onagers known as akhdariyya 3. An Arabic lesson 4. The Abyssinian chief and his mounts

ix

149 149 150 151 151 151 152 154 155 155 157 158 159 160 161 162 162 164 164 166 167 168 168 170 172 172 173 174 175 176 178 179 180 181 183 184 185

185 186 187 188

X

CONTENTS

XXX

XXXI

XXXII

Capital cities and the wonders of countries 1. Generalities 2. Peculiarities of the Tdlibites 3. Religion and character 4. Basra and Küfa

188 190 191 192

Superiority of the blacks to the whites 1. The Zanj 2. Origin of black skin 3. Indian culture

195 196 197

The food of the early Arabs Cannibalism among the early Arabs

198

III Traditional adab, merging into the portrayal of people and society MANNERS

XXXIII

Letter for this world and the next on manners, conduct and human relationships 1. A token of gratitude 2. Relations with one’s associates 3. Knowledge of the invisible 4. The friend 5. How to behave to one’s friends

202 203 204 205 205

CHARACTER TRAITS

XXXIV

Jest and earnest 1. Anger 2. The punishment must be proportional to the offence 3. The best way of preserving documents 4. The disadvantages of parchment 5. A refined form of punishment 6. Meaning and thing meant 7. Jâhiz and Ibn al-Zayyât 8. The friend 9. The price of friendship

207 208 209 211 212 213 214 215 216

XI

CONTENTS

XXXV

XXXVI

XXXVII

XXXVIII

XXXIX

XL

XLI

XLII

The difference between hostility and envy 1. Jahiz’s books 2. Dangerous intermediaries 3. Envy and the literary critic

216 217 218

The envious and the envied 1. How envy shows itself 2. Joseph and his brothers

221 222

The art of keeping secrets and holding one’s tongue 1. Garrulity and indiscretion 2. Self-control (Mm) 3. It is hard to keep a secret 4. The dissemination of secrets 5. The appeal of forbidden fruit 6. Backbiting 7. The harm done by words

223 223 224 224 226 228 229

Superiority of speech to silence The virtues of speech

230

True and assumed nobility; an 1. Pride and nobility 2. Divine pride 3. Pardonable pride 4. Pride and snobbishness 5. The pride of Iblïs 6. Definition of pride

tack on pride 231 232 233 233 234 234

Stewards, and those that appoint them Narrow-mindedness

235

Misers 1. Preamble 2. Laughter 3. The glass lamp 4. Bran water 5. Landlords and tenants 6. A tale about Tammâm b. Ja'far 7. A five-dirham debt 8. Comprehensive scrap-recovery 9. Al-AsmaTs arguments

236 238 239 240 241 247 249 251 252

Robbers and their tricks A tale about brigands

253

Xll

CONTENTS

XLIII

Vagrants and their tricks A fine line of patter

255

Love and women 1. Men and love 2. Women’s superiority to men 3. Free women and slaves 4. The canon of feminine beauty

257 258 258 259

Singing slave-girls 1. Reply to criticism 2. The assessment of beauty 3. Passionate love Çishq) 4. Portrait of a singing slave-girl 5. The training of singing slave-girls 6. In praise of the keepers of singing slave-girls

259 261 262 265 267 268

Superiority of the belly to the back ‘Backs’ and ‘bellies’

269

Boasting-match between girls and pretty boys Vindication of frivolous subjects

270

EMOTIONS

XLIV

XLV

XLVI XLVII

SOCIAL GROUPS

XLVIII

XLIX

In praise of tradesmen and disparagement of officialdom 1. Tradesmen and officials 2. Commerce and learning

272 273

An attack on secretaries Portrait of a secretary

273

Glossary of Arabic words and proper names

277

INTRODUCTION Arabic literature in the ordinary sense of the word includes much that is of doubtful literary merit. Quantitatively, however, it is extraordinarily rich: even Brockelmann’s five-volume work of re¬ ference1 does not constitute an exhaustive account. Though much has already been published, a vast field still remains to be explored. Many years of patient work will be needed before all the texts worthy of publication can be made available to students. Many early Arabic writings of some value have survived. Some of these, however, will by their nature inevitably remain inaccessible except to Arabic scholars and educated native Arabic speakers. Others will be of interest to specialists in various fields of learning, but will be useless until translated and adequately annotated. Ex¬ amples of the latter category already available in translation include historical and geographical works such as the Muqaddima (Pro¬ legomena) of Ibn Khaldün2, the Murüj al-Dhahab of Mas'üdï3 and some others. Some philosophical texts are probably of sufficient in¬ trinsic merit to justify translation, but their bulk tends to deter the few Arabic scholars qualified to undertake this exceptionally ticklish task. The Koran naturally attracts many ordinary readers interested in gaining an insight into the sacred scripture of Islam; yet the French version of the Sahih of Bukhari4, painstakingly carried through by O. Houdas and W. Marçais, is virtually neglected except by scholars. Leaving poetry aside because of the special difficulties of transla¬ tion, there remain certain literary works in prose or rhyming prose which deserve to be made available outside the limited circle of specialized scholarship. Works of this kind, one soon finds, are anything but plentiful. Indeed, if technical writings are excluded, Arabic literature consists predominantly of poetry. Again, most texts of any literary interest are liberally interspersed with proper names of little significance for 1 C. Brockelmann, Geschichte der Arabischen Litteratur, 2 vols., 2nd ed. (1943— 1949) with 3 supp. vols. (1937-42). 2 English translation by F. Rosenthal, 3 vols., 1958. 3 French ed. with translation (Les Prairies d'or) by C. Barbier de Meynard and Pavet de Courteille, 9 vols., 1861-77; revised French translation by C. Pellat in progress, 1962. 4 Les Traditions Islamiques, 1903.

XIV

INTRODUCTION

the ordinary reader, allusions needing copious annotation, and words denoting ideas for which no simple equivalent exists in European languages. It is rare, in short, to be able to read any ten consecutive pages without coming up against some knotty problem. The potential translator is thus liable to shy away from a task of such magnitude—unless, of course, he is himself a scholar, and sees the prospect of producing a learned work of value to other scholars, even if somewhat unattractive to the ordinary reader. The most fruitful source of texts both worthy of a wider circula¬ tion and also susceptible of translation lies in the field of adab5, the Arabic literary genre in which instructive ideas are presented in an entertaining form. Here again the translator’s path is beset with all manner of obstacles, in the shape both of obscurities and of difficult choices between readability and fidelity to the original. If the aim is to interest a wide public, consisting not of Arabic scholars but of ordinary educated readers, in the best of this sort of prose writing, the most effective method is probably to offer them extracts. This is the approach so successfully adopted by the French anthologists L. Machuel6 and E. Dermenghem7 and the German translator O. Rescher8. It is a pity that Rescher did not complete his admirable work, which would have run to at least two or three volumes. Even so, he has made available to German readers in a most meticulous transla¬ tion at least part of the works of one of the few mediaeval Arabic writers who deserve (from the standpoint of the ordinary reader) to be rescued from total obscurity, namely Abü 'Uthmàn 'Amr b. Bahr al-Jâhiz. This is the writer whose life-story I propose to outline and whose works I shall introduce by means of translations of selected extracts. I shall not be duplicating Reseller’s work, since I propose to draw on the whole body of extant Jâhiz material, extracting both the most characteristic passages and those that best lend themselves to trans¬ lation. I shall present the various extracts as separate entities, linking them together by means of a brief commentary with the aim of giving a general picture of the author’s works—or at least of such of them as survive. Clearly my first preference must be for the literary texts; but I shall also include such more specialized passages as seem to deserve a place in the anthology. Jâhiz was, after all, a theologian and a thinker as well as a man of letters. 5 This concept has been admirably dealt with by C. A. Nallino in La letteratura araba, Rome, 1948, pp. 1-17; French translation by C. Pellat, 1950, pp. 7-28. 6 Auteurs arabes, Paris, 1924. 7 Les plus beaux textes arabes, Paris, 1951. 8 Excerpte und Übersetzungen aus den Schriften des . . . (jâhiz, Stuttgart, 1931.

Part One

JÀHIZ’S LIFE AND WORKS Literary history took a great stride forward when it became accep¬ ted that a writer, poet, philosopher or playwright cannot be con¬ sidered in isolation from his background. His work can only be properly understood in the light of his social environment, traces of which may be detected even in minor details. It would, however, be absurd for the literary historian to feel obliged to delve deeply into the remote past before appraising an author’s work: a study of the contemporary scene and of the author’s immediate antecedents should suffice to enable him to identify the main influences at work. Generalizations such as these apply equally to the study of Arabic literature, though other factors need to be borne in mind when dealing with unusual individuals. For one thing, the Arab mind tends to be less sharply aware of the time dimension, so that the line separating the present and the immediate past from the remote past may be somewhat blurred. Again, when the ideas of a bygone age are recalled with such vividness as almost to recapture their topic¬ ality, this may lend them a special authority. In the particular case we are considering, moreover, a special influence was exerted by our author’s birthplace. All the sons of this great city, despite their individual differences, carry the unmistakable stamp of their origin: and Jâhiz was in every way a typical product. He was born in Basra, the principal city of southern Iraq; and though he later lived for many years in the capital, Baghdad, he never severed his sentimental and cultural links with his birthplace and its two hundred years of history: indeed, he can fairly be regarded as Basra’s best representative and its most loyal son. His works, like those of most Arabic writers, contain a high proportion of quota¬ tions; and it is generally poets, scholars and theologians from Basra who are accorded the greatest respect. Similarly, when he collects together a number of Arabic literary authorities as a help in forming his own view on a point, the bulk of the selections are from the learned men of Basra. Even when he seems from time to time to be giving free rein to original trains of thought, it is hard to tell whether they are really his own ideas or merely the product of the collective brilliance of his native city.

2

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

I need not dwell here on the history of Basra1. Suffice it to recall that the city, founded by the Arab conquerors about the same time as its rival Küfa, flourished greatly in the succeeding centuries: it was the cradle of Arabic philology, and of the dialectical school of theology known as the Mu'tazila. Jâhiz, as we shall see, was a keen adherent of this school. Basra equalled and perhaps even surpassed Küfa as a seat of religious learning, other than Islamic law. Its doctrines were characterized by realism and rationalism, which showed themselves also in a frankly revolutionary style of poetry. It was the birthplace of Arabic prose, and the centre from which gram¬ marians collected from the Bedouin their ancient poems, proverbs, sayings and tribal vocabulary. It was at Basra that the new class of non-Arab citizens originated: Muslims by compulsion, who despised the Arabs and resented their domination. At the same time the old military aristocracy still survived, increasingly isolated and uncomprehending. Arabs and non-Arabs, ascetics and vagrants, poets and prosewriters, orthodox and Mu'tazilites, sailors and workmen, merchants and craftsmen, scholars and money-changers, bourgeoisie and aristocracy—all sorts rubbed shoulders in the Basra of the second century of the Hijra. The result was a cosmopolitan, many-sided city in which love of freedom, readiness to criticize and business acumen all made their contribution to a harmonious whole. 1 The subject is dealt with in my book Le Milieu basrien et la formation de Gâhiz, Paris, 1953 (Arabic translation by I. Keilani, Damascus, 1961), which was intended as an introduction to the study of Jâhiz.

I JAHIZ’S LIFE

Basra was at the height of its glory when Jâhiz was born. This must have been around 160 a.h. (a.d. 776-7), if one reckons by his advanced age at the time of his death in 255 a.h. (a.d. 868-9)2. The information available is vague and contradictory, but it seems clear that his family was of African origin and that his ancestors had been slaves. In his own estimation, however, Jâhiz was very much a member of the Arab community, and standing as he did in the relationship of client to the Banü Fuqaim, a branch of the Kindna, he was always strong in its defence3. His full name was Abü 'Uthmân 'Amr b. Bahr al-Kinànï al-Fuqaiml al-Basri, but he has come down to posterity as al-Jàhiz, the nickname given him on account of his protruding eyes. These, together with his extremely swarthy com¬ plexion, made him ugly to a degree which soon became proverbial; and these attributes having passed into legend, the eminent writer became the subject of a number of anecdotes on physical ugliness. Jâhiz must, however, have acquired this nickname when already an adult. Almost all that is known about his childhood is that it was spent in his native city, where he attended the Koran school in the Banü Kinâna quarter. We have no information about his parentage, and very little about his adolescence, though some fragmentary accounts speak of him as selling fish and receiving occasional gifts from unexpected patrons. His family background seems hardly likely to have been such as to predispose him towards learning, and it can only have been his own determination that led him to choose the freedom and hardship of a poor student’s life. The term ‘student’ is perhaps barely appropriate for someone who for a long time merely wandered about the city, mingling with the crowds and joining the circles of listeners that gathered round some of the more famous masters. Among the personalities responsible for laying the foun¬ dations of his Arabic education, three famous names of the period stand out: Abü 'Ubaida, al-Asma'i and Abü Zaid al-Ansârï. All three were philologists and scholars who made a fundamental contribution to the development of Arabic culture. We are told that he also studied grammar under Abü al-Hasan al-Akhfash, hadith 2 See Le Milieu basrien etc., p. 49 et seq. 3 See XVI, 4, and XVIII, 4 below. 2

4

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

under Abü Yüsuf al-Qâdï and others, and theology under Thumdma b. Ashras and more especially al-Nazzâm. But it was a little later, in Baghdad, that the influence of the two latter, who were compatriots of his, became predominant. Biographers customarily specify the teachers at whose feet their sub¬ jects were educated. In the case of Jâhiz the list above is the one usu¬ ally given. It consists entirely of well-known names, and there seems no reason to doubt its accuracy. Nevertheless if Jâhiz had received only a traditional education, involving no more than regular atten¬ dance at classes by reputable teachers, he would not have achieved the distinction he did. He was insatiably inquisitive. He watched the kaleidoscopic street scene of Basra in its heyday, the late 2nd century a.h. He haunted the Mirbad, a huge open space on the outskirts of the city where the caravans stopped; here scholars came to note down the verses, vocabulary and tribal traditions of journeying Bedouin. He also frequented the mosque and mixed with the masjidiyyün, idlers who used to meet there and discuss all manner of questions—often far removed from religion, which formed the main topic of conver¬ sation among other social groups. The instructive anecdotes, the commonsense arguments and the simple but logical ideas that he heard there must have helped to train his mind; they must also have opened new vistas for him and made him think afresh about accepted ideas and prejudices. Jâhiz probably had little opportunity while at Basra of mixing in aristocratic Arab circles. After reaching the age of 30, however, he was undoubtedly accepted by the predominantly Persian middle classes, who spent their time in the pursuit of pleasure and paid little regard to the ordinances of Islam. It is doubtful whether Jâhiz would have found much in the way of translations from the Greek available at Basra. On the other hand the recent introduction of paper-making had greatly encouraged the spread of Arabic books in the late 2nd century a.h., among them being many translations from the Pahlavi. Thus he had access to the vast intellectual resources of Basra, which was the main centre of the specifically Arab culture, both religious and secular, of the period. This was already well developed: indeed, it was in the 2nd century a.h. that the foundation of Arab culture in the succeeding centuries was laid. To it were added fruitful if dangerous elements from Persian civilization, which in turn brought with them Indian influences. A man like Jâhiz, with his lively mind, was bound to have been caught up in all this intellectual turmoil. When the introduction and spread of Greek influences were later

JÂHIZ’S LIFE

5

fostered by an intelligent and enlightened caliph, he was able to assimilate at any rate some features of a fourth culture as well. The question that remains is how and why Jâhiz came to devote himself exclusively to study and adopt the vocation in which he achieved eminence. His family background, after all, can certainly not have predisposed him towards a literary career. There is no tradi¬ tion to the effect that any scholar, impressed by his precocity, took him by the hand and introduced him to the world of learning. Jâhiz for some reason reacted against the specialization that was beginning to show itself at Basra, to become instead an adib, a writer capable of dealing with any subject in an easily comprehensible way. There is no actual evidence to support my view that this must have been due to his own turn of mind, his intellectual curiosity and his genuine eclecticism. Nevertheless it seems most likely to have been a spontaneous step on his part, possibly helped by some lucky chance. The most serious problems for conscientious Muslims of that time were those concerned with religion and politics. The Mu'tazilites were preoccupied with the dilemma of reconciling faith and reason. The authorities were concerned about internal dissensions within the community. The more perspicacious Arabs were becoming anxious about the growing power of non-Arabs. And there was the continu¬ ing feud about the question of the caliphate between supporters and opponents of the 'Abbâsids, whom the Shfites and diehard Umayyad zealots persisted in regarding as usurpers. If a statement by Jâhiz himself4 is to be believed—and he gives us no other information about his first ventures into the world of literature—it was his writings on the caliphate that determined the direction of his career. His views on this thorny question were so clear and his arguments so ingenious that they won him the favour of al-Ma’mün, to whom Jâhiz’s first essays had been presented by one of the caliph’s tutors, a grammarian from Basra by the name of al-Yazïdï. This happened in the year 200 (817-8); and it gives us an advance glimpse of the career that lay before the author. The stylistic qualities which al-Ma’mün then perceived in him were to enable Jâhiz to write both for the general public and for the intel¬ lectual élite, and so to serve as a popularizer and promoter of official doctrines. After his first success, Jâhiz apparently moved to Baghdad. He lived there for nearly 50 years, with visits to Sâmarrâ and frequent return trips to Basra, to which he finally retired late in life. There is 4 See XIX, 7 below.

6

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

a dearth of information about the Baghdad period of his life, and it is not easy to form a clear picture of it5. The first problem is to know what position he held, and hence what his means were, in his new abode. Many other men had come from Basra to offer up their talents on the altar of the newly-founded capital; but the well-known ones, at any rate, managed to make a reasonable living straight away. They earned money from their panegyrics, like the poet Abü Nuwâs, or by tutoring, like al-Asma'i, or in the administration, like Sahl b. Hàrün. Jâhiz, however, had no source of income, apart from the reward he doubtless received for his essays on the caliphate question. According to one tradition, which is in keeping with what we know of his independence of character, he held a secretarial post in the chancellery, during alMa’mün’s reign, for a mere three days. He next spent some time as an assistant to Ibrâhîm b. al-'Abbàs al-Sülï in the same department. A little later comes the oft-reported episode of his interview with the caliph al-Mutawakkil. The latter had considered Jâhiz as a possible tutor for his children, but rejected him on account of his ugliness. The tradition on which this rests is questionable, though it led an Andalusian writer, Ibn Shuhaid, to comment that Jâhiz’s ugliness prevented him from achieving the degree of success attained by less gifted scribes of the period6. Jahiz no doubt also worked as a teacher, though this cannot have brought him in very much. It was the dedication of his books that proved most remunerative: he seems to have acknowledged7 re¬ ceiving 5,000 dinars each for al-Hayawân8, al-Baydn9 and al-Zaf wa al-nakhl10, dedicated respectively to Ibn al-Zayyât, al-Ma’mün’s vizier, the chief cadi Ahmad b. Abï Du’âd and the aforementioned Ibrâhîm al-Sülï. He also received a gift of 400 acres of land from Ibn al-Zayyât; and according to a somewhat suspect source he en¬ joyed a regular government annuity under al-Mutawakkil’s caliphate. The two former works are more literary than political in character, and the third was probably no more than a rhetorical contest be¬ tween the champions of agriculture and of fruit-farming. The size of the fees therefore indicates that although prose had not com¬ pletely ousted poetry it nevertheless suffered from no lack of patron¬ age. It is, of course, not impossible that the payments were a charge 5 On the second part of Jâhiz’s life see Pellat, ‘Gahiz à Bagdad et à Sâmarrâ', in Rivista degli studi orientait, XXVII (1952), pp. 48-67. 6 See Pellat in al-Andalus, XXI/2 (1956), 277-84. 7 See Pellat, ‘Gâhiz à Bagdad et à Samarra’, p. 50. 8 Animals (see XXVIII, below). 9 Elegance of expression and clarity of exposition (see XIX, below). 10 Agriculture and (the cultivation of) palm-trees; this work is lost.

JÂHIZ’S LIFE

7

on the public purse, intended both to reward merit and to repay official or clandestine services rendered. As we shall see later11, a part of Jàhiz’s works, unfortunately very poorly preserved, seems to have been devoted to the defence of the régime and the promotion of Mu'tazilite doctrine, which had been officially adopted by the 'Abbâsid court. It may well have been written for the guidance of the authorities, or specially commissioned to promulgate or defend some important government decision. If only we possessed the com¬ plete chronology and knew the subject-matter of all Jâhiz’s works, we could be more definite about this, and in many cases establish a connection between particular political events and obviously political or semi-political pieces of writing. But the evidence available is quite inadequate for tins purpose12, so that for the most part we shall have to be content with making hypotheses. We do at least know a good deal about Jâhiz’s relations with men in high places. The first of these to befriend him seems to have been Muhammad b. 'Abd al-Malik al-Zayyât, who died in Rabfi I, 233 (November 847). During his vizierate, from 219 (834-5) until his death, he was at odds with the chief cadi Ahmad b. Ab! Du’âd. Jâhiz took sides with Ibn al-Zayyât, although he engaged in a certain amount of double-dealing the details of which are obscure. At any rate, when the vizier was arrested and tortured in a wooden cylinder studded with spikes which he had had made for the chastisement of recalcitrant debtors, his protégé at once fled to Basra. He was brought back to Baghdad in a pitiful state, and eventually admitted to the entourage of the chief cadi—who needed his services. Besides, he seems to have been great friends with the chief cadi’s son Muhammad, and it was to him that he addressed most of his letters on semi¬ political, semi-theological topics13. In 237 (851-2), both father and son fell into disfavour, and did not long survive: Muhammad died at the end of 239 (May 854), and his father three weeks later, in Muharram 240 (June 854). Of Ibn al-Zayyât’s successors as vizier, it was al-Fath b. Khâqân who assumed the role of Jâhiz’s protector and probably secured his admission to al-Mutawakkil’s court. A significant letter of al-Fath’s has been preserved, which shows the esteem in which our author was held: ‘The Commander of the Faithful has taken a tremendous liking to you, and rejoices to hear your name spoken. Were it not that he thinks so highly of you because of your learning and eru¬ dition, he would require your constant attendance in his audience n See I-VII and X-XVIII, below. 12 See VI-VII, XVI and XVIII, below. 13 See VII and XVI, below.

8

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

chamber to give him your views and tell him your opinion on the questions that occupy your time and thought. The Caliph told me the title of the book you are now writing, and I went out of my way to enhance the already high opinion he has of you, so that he de¬ cided against disturbing you further. You thus have me to thank for the gain to your reputation, and your book entitled al-Radd 'alà al-Nasam14 for the respite. Finish it off, hasten to bring it to me, and endeavour to gain personal advantage from it. You will be receiving your monthly allowance: I have arranged for you to be credited with the arrears, and am also having you paid a whole year in advance. There is a windfall for you! I have read your treatise entitled Basïrat Ghannâm al-murtadd15, and were it not for fear of making you conceited I would tell you of my feelings when I read it. Farewell.’ At Baghdad Jâhiz was also, of course, on fairly close terms with other distinguished men whom I need not enumerate here, and with a host of scholars, writers and poets whose names recur in his works. These contacts all helped to deepen his understanding of humanity. In addition to the time he spent in writing, Jâhiz took advantage of his long stay in the capital to complete his education. Just as at Basra he had kept the company of the masjidiyyün, so at Baghdad he had only to go to the Ibn Raghbàn Mosque district to find a familiar atmosphere, for that was the favourite area for people from Basra, whether living in the capital or passing through. In this way he kept in touch with his native city despite the distance he was from it. He was able to resume contact with his old teachers, notably al-Asma'i and the Mu'tazilite Abü al-Hudhail al-'Allâf, and to receive direct tuition from his old Basra schoolfellow Abü Ishàq Ibrâhîm b. Sayyâr al-Nazzâm, which helped to crystallize his own Mu'tazilite opinions. Also at Baghdad he came across recently produced translations from the Greek. There, too, he had the opportunity of taking part in debates on the comparative merits of different countries, towns, persons, animals, character traits and so on—an intellectual exercise of Persian origin, examples of which occur in his works, particularly in his Book of Animals16. It was probably during this second part of his life that Jâhiz was able to travel outside the area bounded by Basra, Küfa, Àhwâz, Baghdad and Sàmarrâ. He certainly went to Syria. On the other hand there is no evidence of even a single pilgrimage to Mecca. 14 Refutation of the Christians; see XVII, below. 15 The perspicacity of Ghannâm the Apostate; this work is lost. is See XXVIII, below.

JÂHIZ’S LIFE

9

Jâhiz probably left the capital and retired to Basra before the assassination of al-Mutawakkil and al-Fath in 247 (861). He was old by then, and partially paralysed, which was undoubtedly the reason for his retirement. The change in 'Abbâsid policy may also have contributed to it, since there was no place for him at the court of a caliph who had just abandoned Mu'tazilite theology. He felt more at ease at Basra, where he was free to devote himself to his writing. The only precise date in Jâhiz’s biography is that of his death, which took place at Basra in Muharram 255 (December 868January 869). It is said that when the caliph al-Mu'tazz heard the news he indicated that he had wanted to summon Jâhiz to his court, but had been unable to do so because the author was too crippled to make the move. A later annalist records a tradition, obviously spurious, that Jâhiz’s death was caused by the collapse of the mound of books he always kept piled up around him. No fitter end can be imagined for a man who had devoted his whole life to learning.

II

JÂHIZ’S WORKS

As I have said, literary historians would give a great deal for the exact chronology of Jàhiz’s works1. It would allow the linking of particular works with contemporary events; it would make it possible to follow the development of the writer’s thought; and it might solve the annoying riddle of contradictory titles such as ‘In praise of secretaries’ and ‘An attack on secretaries’ given in the Fihrist of Ibn al-Nadim2, the Mu'jam al-udaba’ of Yâqüt3 and the ' Uyün al-tawârïkh of al-Kutubi4. 1 I have set out a provisional list in Arabica, 1956/2. Out of some 200 titles, the following are the only definite landmarks we have: Several essays on the imamate (see XII and XIII, below) : before 200. Risâla fi tabaqât al-mughannin (see XXVI, below): at Baghdad in 215. Risâla fi manâqib al-Turk (see XVIII, below): between 218 and 227. Kitâb al-radd 'aid al-mushabbiha (lost) : about 220. Risâla fi nafyi al-tashbih (see VII, below) : about 220. Risâla fi al-nâbita (see XVI, below): about 225. Risâla fi sinâ’at al-quwwâd (see XXII, below) : between 222 and 227. Kitâb fadl Hâshim (see XI, below) : in 226. Kitâb al-tarbi’ wa al-tadwir (see XXVII, below) between 227 and 230. Kitâb al-hayawân (see XXVIII, below): dedicated to Ibn al-Zayyàt, and therefore certainly earlier than 233 (847), the date of the vizier’s death. In the preamble to this monumental work the author lists 47 books of his, i.e. numerically rather less than a quarter of his total output. Although this affords us a useful indi¬ cation, there is no reason to suppose that Jâhiz listed his works in chrono¬ logical order and thus all that can be deduced from it is that 47 books (given in the list mentioned above) are earlier than the year 233. In any case, the ma¬ jority are now lost, so that it would be pointless to refer to them here. Kitâb abna’ al-sarâri wa al-mahirât (lost), Kitâb al-asmâ’ wa al-kunâ . . . (lost), Kitâb al-insân (lost), Kitâb al-'urjân wa al-bursân wa al-qur'ân (see p. 32, below). These four books are mentioned only in the Bayân, and it is possible that they were written between 233 and 237. Kitâb al-bayân wa al-tabyin (see XIX, below) dedicated to Ahmad b. Abi Du’âd, and therefore certainly earlier than his fall from favour in 237 (851), and probably later than Ibn al-Zayyàt’s death. Kitâb al-jawàrih (lost) : immediately following the Bayân. Basirat Ghannâm al-murtadd (lost): earlier than 247 (see p. 8, above). Kitâb al-buldân (see XXX, below): in 248. 2 The reference to Jâhiz is not to be found in editions of the Fihrist, but has been published by A. J. Arberry, New Material on the Kitâb al-Fihrist of Ibn al-Nadim, Islamic Research Association, I (1948), pp. 19-45. Mu’jam al-udabâ, Cairo (undated), XVI, or Irshâd al-arib, ed. Margoliouth, 4 MS. 1588 in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.

JÀHIZ’S WORKS

11

In the second part of this book I shall be compelled by the in¬ adequacy of the data to adopt an arbitrary order based simply on the content of the surviving works. My provisional hypothesis is that after a few preliminary efforts at Basra Jâhiz wrote the great majority of his books at Baghdad in the first half of the 3rd century of the Hijra. At that time the 'Abbâsid caliphs felt an uneasy need to justify themselves in the eyes of their subjects and to strike back at their opponents. Al-Ma’mün knew that the 'Abbâsid cause had not won the support of all Muslims, and he felt driven to strengthen his own personal authority. His ultimately successful struggle against his brother al-Amin, the pledges he had felt compelled to give to the 'Alids, indeed all his policies, were calculated to forfeit much public sympathy. The orthodox majority was not favourably disposed to¬ wards the régime, and reacted against the extremism of the Shl'ites by adopting Mu'àwiya and his successors as its champions and loudly if paradoxically singing their praises. In 212 the caliph de¬ clared by proclamation that anyone who linked a pious formula with Mu'âwiya’s name was anathema and would be expelled from the Muslim community. He had planned to extend this ban to the whole of the empire, but was dissuaded by fear of popular reaction and the wise counsels of the cadi Yahyà b. Aktham. At about the same time the caliph laid down the doctrine of the superiority of 'Alt b. Abi Talib over the other Companions of the Prophet. Probably influenced by one of Jâhiz’s friends, Thumâma b. Ashras, he adopted Mu'tazilite doctrines, proclaiming the dogma of the created Koran and persecuting recalcitrants. Al-Ma’mün ob¬ viously had the support only of a minority. He relied on the Mu'tazila, who had helped to put the 'Abbàsids into power and now re¬ mained loyal to them5. The eastern Muslim world was thus split into three factions: the Mu'tazilite intellectuals, who supported the régime, the Shl'ites, who were obsessed with 'All’s family, and the ordinary people, who clung to the orthodox school and revived Mu'àwiya as their champion against the 'Abbàsids. Al-Ma’mün managed to embrace Mu'tazilite doctrines and sur¬ vive. His immediate successors carried on with Iris difficult policy; but they lacked his ability, and were inclined to resort to force rather than to persuasion or free discussion. The consequence was that the caliphate was soon under threat from Turkish, Berber, Slav and Negro mercenaries. Al-Mu'tasim showed himself sympathetic to the Turks, who were harassing the people of Baghdad, and the latter reacted with open hostility to the caliph. Finding himself compelled 5 The question of the help given to the 'Abbàsids before they came to power is a controversial one; but nevertheless there was probably some collusion.

12

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

to remove his unruly soldiery from the capital, al-Mu'tasim in 221 (833) founded Sàmarrâ. Under al-Mutawakkil’s caliphate the Turkish troops achieved such domination that he considered removing the seat of government to Damascus, but the mercenaries forced him to return to Sàmarrâ. Overwhelmed by the pressure of events and no longer able to carry on his predecessors’ policies, he surrendered to the majority and returned to the path of orthodoxy, denying the dogma of the created Koran. He also showed himself hostile to the 'Alids, and took discriminatory steps against non-Muslims. Much of Jâhiz’s writing reflects these preoccupations with political power. This no doubt explains the sudden shifts of loyalty with which he is often charged, sometimes on very poor evidence. At least he seems always to have remained loyal to his own religious views and not lent himself to al-Mutawakkil’s anti-Mu'tazilite policies. Jâhiz was not, however, merely a polemical writer in defence of the régime, the Arabs and Islam. He was also, indeed mainly, an adib. It was precisely because of his literary ability that he was used by the authorities as a means of popularizing the religious views of the moment and expounding current policies to the literate public. In those days caliphs and their high officials still kept court poets to sing their praises and compose panegyrics in their honour. The latter were usually impersonally worded: indeed, as we shall see, Jâhiz himself, no doubt by way of caricature, once amused himself by writing some verses capable of being addressed to three different persons. This sort of propaganda was good enough for the Umayyads, with their close links with ‘bedouinity’; but it was no longer suitable for the 'Abbâsids, who felt the need to use more intellectual weapons. Moreover, even if in the early 3rd century poetry still retained its prestige in Arab eyes, the same was not true for non-Arab Muslims, who were more open to the appeal of reason. Even in purely literary terms, poetry was in retreat before the advance of prose writing. Prose was mainly the preserve of non-Arab writers, who after Ibn al-Muqaffa' and 'Abd al-Hamld did much to introduce Persian cultural influences to the world of Islam. They produced translations and adaptations from Pahlavi literature, and in general sought to adapt foreign traditions and habits of thought to Arabic forms. Orthodox scholars had already reached such an advanced stage that their progress now became exceedingly slow: they were bogged down in a mass of petty detail, and even Arabs were beginning to weary of them. The latter, or at any rate the more open among them, had acquired from Persian writers a more discriminating taste. What is more, they had learnt to think, and to such good purpose that they

JÀHIZ’S WORKS

13

were ready to welcome the emergence of a new prose literature based on a foundation of early Arab culture. As we shall see, Jâhiz was to meet this need. Like the scribes, he used prose: but he turned for his sources to the inherited literary and religious traditions of the Arabs which his colleagues from Basra were busily collecting together. He selected carefully from this mass of material, bringing the best of it to the notice of those officials whom he considered too closely attuned to Persian influences. He wrote in a pleasing style calculated to appeal to Arab readers; and he had the advantage of being, if not Arab by race, at least sufficiently inte¬ grated into the Arab community to feel able to speak in their name. After the praise al-Ma’mün showered upon him, Jâhiz seems to have found his bent. As we have seen, Basra had given him a wide and varied general knowledge, which fitted him for something better than the narrowness of so many of his contemporaries. He evinced true eclecticism. A number of new branches of knowledge had sprung up under the stimulus of Islam, and Jâhiz concerned himself with all of them. He wrote for every Arabic reader who had the ability to look beyond the old familiar horizons and the patriotism to reject non-Arab literature. Thus originated Jâhiz’s own particular type of adab. It drew its inspiration from the main stream of Arabic literary tradition, enriched by such Persian influences as were consistent with Arab predominance. The latter were modelled on Greek patterns, but adapted to the taste of readers who preferred fine language to formal logic. Jâhiz did not actually invent this type of adab. It is clear from the Fihrist of the bibliographer Ibn al-Nadim that many earlier writers had had the idea of treating a subject through the medium of a group of differing traditions. But so far as one can judge from the rare examples of their work that survive, they were somewhat specialized: their work consisted of partial lists of word-forms, verses, and scraps of material on a given topic, with no attempt at selection or editing. It cannot be reckoned as literature, and the personality of the authors quite fails to show through the mass of material. At the same time it must be remembered that Arabic prose was first used by scribes who inherited the Sâsânian tradition and contrived their writing to serve as advice to their patrons. Jâhiz likewise practised this hortatory style of adab, with varying degrees of success. C. Brockelmann, in his very full presentation of Jâhiz, classifies his works on the basis of their actual or supposed contents as de¬ duced from their titles. I do not propose to follow him in this, since in most cases the titles of the books are not a reliable guide to their

14

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

subject-matter. In my own provisional list, already superseded, I arranged the titles in alphabetical order; but such an arrangement would obviously be inappropriate here. Finally, it might have seemed reasonable to have arranged our translated passages according to their own subject-matter, without regard for either the titles or the contents of the books from which they come. This would have meant a premature attempt at the sort of collation that would be needed if, instead of extracts from his works, we were attempting a survey of this fertile writer’s thought—or if he may not be described as a thinker, then of the ideas he expressed during his lifetime. This commonsense method would have deprived the reader of some of Jâhiz’s more endearing traits: his lack of orderly thought, his inconsequential style and his fondness for di¬ gression. I have therefore thought it best to arrange the extracts in an arbitrary but logical order under the three main categories into which Jâhiz’s works seem to fall6.

Category I: Semi-political, semi-theological works It is no surprise, in view of Jâhiz’s known opinions, to find him devoting part of his writings to the exposition of Mu'tazilite doc¬ trines, and on an even more directly political level to the defence of the 'Abbâsid dynasty against its opponents and of Arabs against Shu'übites. AN ACCOUNT OF MU'TAZILITE DOCTRINE

It is common knowledge that the Mu'tazila, having flourished during the first half of the 3rd (9th) century, were thereafter eclipsed by the Sunnis and most of their philosophical writings lost or destroyed. As a result, almost the only source for the study of Mu'tazilite ideas is 6 In the notes that follow, bibliographical details have been kept to a mini¬ mum. Apart from a few texts published in the various journals, or so far avail¬ able only in manuscript, Jâhiz’s extant minor works are to be found in the following five collections : J. Finkel, Three Essays of Abü’Othmânb. Bahr al-Jâhiz {cl. 869) (Cairo, 1926); P. Kraus and M. T. Hàjirï, Majmu rasa'il al-Jâhiz (Cairo, 1943); Ihdâ 'ashrata risâla (Cairo, 1906) (abbrev. 11 Risâla); H. al-Sandubi, Rasa'il al-Jâhiz (Cairo, 1933); G." van Vloten, Tria opusciila auctore Abu Othman Amr ibn Bahr al-Djahiz Basrensi (Leiden, 1903). (The two-volume edition by A. M. Hàrün, Rasâ'il al-Jâhiz [Cairo-Baghdad, 1965], in which the 17 minor works from one volume of MS. Dâmâd were published, appeared after the completion of the present translation.)

JÂHIZ’S WORKS

15

the works of heresy-hunters, on which it would obviously be unsafe to rely. A useful task, which indeed has already been taken in hand, would be the collation of all the Mu'tazilite material to be found in Jâhiz’s works, from the Kitâb al-Hayawân (XXVIII) through various minor works to the Kitâb al-Bay an (XIX). But no text en¬ tirely devoted to the exposition of his own views has survived intact. All we have is extracts from the following: I. The merits of dogmatic theology as a calling1. Here Jâhiz makes no attempt to define the aims or methods of kaldm (dogmatic theo¬ logy), but—at any rate in the extract that has survived—merely sings its praises and compares the followers of kalâm with the ad¬ herents of the exact sciences. II. Questions and answers about knowledge8. It seems probable that Jâhiz here set out the doctrines of the various Mu'tazilite schools of thought in order to attack them fiercely in favour of his own views about knowledge of God. The extract that survives, however, deals only with Bishr b. al-Mu'tamir, al-Nazzâm and Mu'ammar; Jâhiz refutes al-Nazzâm’s views and sets out his own in words leading to the conclusion that God can be known only through experience and self-perfection. By this detour he shows that ‘Alï b. Abï Tâlib, who had been converted to Islam in his youth, cannot have known God truly through his own mental powers; Jâhiz returns to this idea in The 'Uthmâniyya (XV). III. Traditions and the requirements for their authenticity.9 It is evident that it was in a period teeming with spurious traditions that Jâhiz became concerned with the methodology of the hadith and the prob¬ lem of their authenticity; we have a number of scattered texts by him that deal with this problem (thus especially IV, 1; XIV, 3; XV, 3; XXVIII, 23; XXIX, 1; XXXIII, 3). An extract preserved of the present treatise, however, merely speaks of the contradiction that is noticeable between the character of the ancient Arabs, the Indians, Persians and Byzantines, and the religious views they held. IV. Proofs of prophecy10. Jâhiz starts by tackling the problem just mentioned of the authenticity of traditions. He continually digresses, however, and as regards proofs of prophecy puts forward little more —at any rate in the portion that has survived—than the foretelling of future events and the inimitableness of the Koran. V. The createdness of the Koran11. Jâhiz sets forth without taking 7 Fifadilat sinâ'at al-kalâm, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129, 260b-265a. 8 Kitâb al-masa’il wa al-jawâbât fi al-ma'rifa, ibid., 175a-185a. 9 al-Akhbâr (wa kaifa tasihh), in Lughat at-'Arab, IX, pp. 174-180. 10 Kitâb hujaj al-nubuwwa, in Sandübï, Rasâ’il, pp. 117-47. 11 Kitâb khalq al-Qur’ân, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129; reproduced by Sandübï immediately after the preceding text.

16

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

great pains that the Koran is created, but is really more concerned to attack Ibn Hanbal: without actually naming him, he reproaches him with bad faith at the time of the famous inquisition. VI. Concerning the book on legal opinions12. The author seems to have a grievance against jurists in general: the judgments and fatwas of the cadis and muftis apparently still have something of the same haphazardness that Ibn al-Muqaffa' denounced in his Risalat alsahaba a century earlier. Unfortunately the book itself is lost, and all that survives is a letter from Jâhiz to the chief cadi Ahmad b. Abi Du’âd reporting the completion of his work on this subject. VII. Concerning anthropomorphism12. Here again the book itself, an attack on the anthropomorphists, is lost. All that survives is a letter, this time to the chief cadi’s son Muhammad b. Ahmad b. Abi Du’ad, telling him that Jâhiz had completed his refutation. This letter and the preceding one are interesting mainly for the light they throw on Jâhiz in his capacity as adviser to the chief cadi. It will have been noted that no writings about any of the five basic tenets of Mu'tazilite doctrine (the unity of God, divine justice, promise and threat, the intermediate position, and enjoining good and forbidding evil) have survived. The only work whose title corresponds to one of them, al-Wa'd wa al-wa'id (promise and threat, i.e. eschatology), is lost. This is, however, the correct place for VIII. Drink and the drinker14, a risâla designed to show that the drinking of nabidh is lawful. Jâhiz goes still further in IX. Justification of nabidh15. This is a letter to al-Hasan b. Wahb asking him for some nabidh; it is in no sense a theological treatise, but merely a stylistic exercise—-on a topic that might be thought a trifle risky for a Muslim who has conveniently just demonstrated the legality of the beverage in question.

DEFENCE OF THE 'ABBÂSIDS AGAINST THEIR OPPONENTS

Jâhiz’s main preoccupation here is with the problem of the succession. In terms of dogma this would normally form part of the preceding series, but Jâhiz treats it much more as a political than a theological question. The legitimacy of the 'Abbâsid caliphate is not universally recognized in the Muslim world; its main opponents are the lingering 12 Risâla ilâ Ahmad b. Abi Du'âd yukhbiruhu fihâ bi-kitâb al-futyâ, in MS. Dâmâd 949, 115b—117b; ed. in Lughat al ’Arab, VIII, pp. 686-90. 12 Risâla fi nafyi al-tashbih, ed. Pellat in al-Mashriq, 1953, pp. 281-303. 14 Fi al-shârib wa al-mashrub, in Sandübï, Rasâiil, pp. 276-84. 15 Fi madh al-nabidh, ibid., pp. 285-91.

JÂHIZ’S WORKS

17

supporters of the Umayyads on the one hand and the Shi'ites on the other. Jâhiz sets out to demonstrate the legitimacy of the 'Abbâsids, using every available argument both direct and indirect. History and tribal tradition are pressed into service as well as theological premises. The only work bearing the title X. The 'Abbâsids16 presents us, however, with a thorny problem. We possess only a short passage from it, in which Jâhiz severely criticizes the first two caliphs over the question of the Prophet’s estate. We know from other sources that he recognizes the legitimacy of the four orthodox caliphs; and hence it is surprising to read in Les Prairies cPOr17 that in a book called Kitâb imamat Banï 'Abbâs Jâhiz argues in favour of al-‘Abbas b. 'Abd al-Muttalib as the person worthiest to succeed to the caliphate after the Prophet’s death. Mas'üdï tells us that in this book, which he wrote ‘as a jest and a frolic’, Jâhiz ‘recalls Abü Bakr’s decision in the matter of Fadka and other [properties], his quarrels with Fatima when she claimed her father’s estate, etc,’ XL Superiority of the Banü Hâshim to the 'Abd Shams18. The proof of this superiority by means of arguments drawn from pre-Islamic history is designed to demonstrate that the 'Abbâsids, who are Hâshimites, are more illustrious than their predecessors the Umay¬ yads, who are the descendants of 'Abd Shams. The text, like many others, takes the form of a dialogue between the supporters of the 'Abbâsids and the Umayyads, each side putting forward its argu¬ ments in turn. XII. An account of ShVite doctrine19. This text (which in one edition bears the title ‘Conditions for accession to the imamate’) is im¬ perfectly preserved, so that it is impossible to follow the writer’s reasoning. It is evident, however, that he aims to refute the argu¬ ments of the moderate Shi'ites (Zaidites), who claim the caliphate for 'Ali on the Prophet’s death and hence do not recognize the legitimacy of the 'Abbâsids. Jâhiz shows that the sect was not unanimously in favour of 'Ali. Most of the text, however, is devoted to expounding the necessity for the existence of an imam. XIII. Response on the imamate29. This text on the imamate and the qualities needed in the imam is so closely complementary to the preceding one that Sandübi treated them as a single text. 16 Fi al- Abbâsiyya, ibid., pp. 300-3. 17 Mas'üdï, Les Prairies d’or, VI, p. 55. 18 Fadl Hâshim 'alâ 'Abd Shams, in Sandübi, Rasa'il, pp. 67-116. 19 Bayân madhâhib al-Shi'a, in 11 Risâla; but Kitâb istihqâq al-imâma in Sandübi, Rasâ’il, pp. 241-8. 20 Jawâbât fi al-imâma, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129; this text follows on after the preceding one, without a fresh title, in Sandübi, Rasâ’il, pp. 249-59.

18

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

XIV. Support for 'All over the arbitration by two arbiters21. The arbitration after the battle of Siffin gives Jâhiz the opportunity to compare the rival claims of 'All and Mu'àwiya. While not neglecting to state the arguments of the Umayyads, he defends 'All’s political acumen in submitting to this arbitration. He by no means accepts the Shi'ite contention that 'All should have immediately succeeded the Prophet. Jàhiz’s position is set out in greater detail in XV. The ' Uthmaniyya22, which aims to show that the historical order of succession of the so-called orthodox caliphs (Abü Bakr, 'Umar, 'Uthmân and 'All) is correct, and that the Prophet’s true successor was indeed Abü Bakr. It is here that Jàhiz’s political views are most clearly expressed and his doctrine about the succession best set out23. XVI. The Nâbita24. Texts VI and VII, addressed to Ahmad b. Abi Du’àd or his son Muhammad, are more theological than political in character. This one, addressed to Muhammad, is distinctly political. It aims to refute the opinions voiced by what Jâhiz calls the nâbita, i.e. the younger generation, who were opposed to the Mu'tazilites and to the 'Abbàsids, championed the Umayyads, sided with the Hanbalites, and used kalâm to promote their ideas. XVII. Refutation of the Christians25. This text is consistent with the measures taken by al-Mutawakkil against the ‘People of the Book’: it is designed to furnish arguments against Christians occupying high positions in Muslim countries. It is a polemical work, in sharp contrast to the succeeding one, whose stated aim is to restore the unity of the army, threatened at that time by the narrow nationalism of the various racial groups within it. XVIII. The merits of the Turks and of the Imperial army as a whole26. While primarily concerned to conciliate the troops, Jâhiz also takes the opportunity of praising the Turks in order to flatter the court favourite al-Fath b. Khâqàn, who was of Turkish extraction.

Category II: Jâhiz s own particular type of adab This second group is literary or quasi-scientific in character. It 21 Kitâb taswib 'Alt fi tahkim al-hakamain, ed. Pellat, in al-Masliriq, 1958, pp. 417-91. 22 Kitâb al-Uthmâniyya, ed. Hàrün, Cairo, 1374 (1955); see Arabica, 1956/3. 23 On the question of the imamate, see C. Pellat in Stadia Islamica, xv, 1961. 24 Trans. Pellat, in Annales de /’Institut d'études orientales, Algiers, 1952, pp. 302-25. 25 Al-radd 'alâ al-nasârâ, trans. I. S. Allouche, in Hespéris, 1939, pp. 129-55. 26 Fi manâqib al-Turk wa 'âmmat jund al-khilàfa, ed. van Vloten, in Tria opuscula, pp. 1-56.

JÂHIZ’S WORKS

19

includes Jâhiz’s most sophisticated and best preserved works. In them Jâhiz assembles traditions borrowed from his predecessors, without always acknowledging his sources; and yet the group marks an intermediate stage in the evolution of adab as the basis of a general culture. The traditions he uses were now out of copyright, as it were, and waiting to be made use of. The earliest 2nd-century investigators had culled all sorts of verses, proverbs and traditions without bothering overmuch with their arrangement. A second generation of researchers had put them into separate books with the object of cataloguing the legacy of the Arabs in the fields of lexicography, literature, history and general knowledge. The next step was to make a selection from this mass of material and bring the most worth¬ while of it to the attention of educators and those in search of a good general education. Jâhiz, aiming to put Arab culture on what he considered a sound footing, did just this. The resultant compilations are not without traces of the author’s personality. It shows in the choice of quotations, and even more in the style and the humorous and ironical comments, which could be by no other hand. Jâhiz set out to give the reader the items that mattered, without troubling himself unduly about their sequence or presentation. He also aimed to win and keep the reader’s interest; and to this end he continually digresses, or puts together a potpourri of incongruous items, so that it is often difficult to find a complete page worth translating. This untidiness is a cardinal feature of Jâhiz’s writing, and it goes hand in hand with a remarkable freedom of thought and phrase. His successors put his material into a more orderly form; but in so doing they reduced its scope, impaired its vigour, and severely constricted this form of early Arab culture—which was soon to fall under the constraining influence of scholasticism. LITERARY WORKS

XIX. Elegance of expression and clarity of exposition21. This is the most important work in this category, and the best known among educated people in Arab countries. The author’s intention is not absolutely clear, but his main object seems to be to show that Arabs are unquestionably superior to non-Arabs in the fields of poetry and rhetoric. A secondary aim may have been to educate contemporary taste, which had already diverged some distance from the mainstream of Arabic literature proper, by laying the foundations of poetics and enunciating the principles of literary criticism. As Abü Hilâl al“Askarï so rightly points out, the Bayân contains only a rough draft 27 Kitâb al-bayân wa al-tabyin, ed. Hàrün, Cairo, 1367-9 (1948-50), 4 vols. 3

20

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

of poetics, and the writer’s ideas are scattered through the book in an untidy and unplanned way. Because of this, and of the proliferation of quotations, the book is virtually untranslatable, and it will come as a surprise to no one that we have included only a few pages of it. XX. Eloquence and conciseness28. All that survives of this obviously important risâla is a short extract. It shows that Jâhiz aimed to give some advice to writers and establish some fundamental rules for Arabic prose writing. XXI. Schoolmasters29. This work, which has given rise to so many legends about Jâhiz’s contempt for school-teachers, is mostly lost. To judge by what survives the loss is regrettable, for the aim of the risâla seems to have been to influence education in the direction of producing ‘gentlemen’. XXII. The skills of the masters [of guilds]30. This is a cryptic title for a risâla that might be more aptly named ‘Of professional illiteracy’. We have used Sandübï’s text, which is far from perfect; but there are several versions, showing how the copyists gave their imagination free rein. In order to demonstrate the ill-effects of a lack of general education, Jâhiz makes a number of people in different walks of life tell the story of a battle and compose a love poem. Each uses the vocabulary of his own calling, and the result is often ludicrous. This is the best example of Jâhiz’s efforts towards the development and diversification of general education. The preceding text is purely literary, i.e. of a type properly repre¬ sented in Jâhiz’s works by the essays assigned to Category III of this anthology. We may, however, place here three pieces which all share the common characteristic of belonging to forms hitherto treated in verse: the funeral oration, the satiric sketch and the lament about contemporary evils. This would also be the place for the many literary snippets (fusül) collected by anthologists, which represent the prose counterpart of the critics’ selection of favourite verses. We do not propose to include translations of them, simply because these short extracts are almost poetry, and hence untranslatable. But the three texts that follow mark a real turning-point in Arabic litera¬ ture: the point at which prose began to compete with poetry on its own ground. XXIII. Funeral oration31. The author tells of the death of a friend 28 Fi al-balàgha wa al-ijaz, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129, 219b-220b. 29 Kitâb al-mu'allimin, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129, 10b-19b. 39 Fl sinâ'at al-quwwâd, in Sandübï, Rasa’ll, pp. 260-5. nff ™fut Abi t.Iurb al-Saffâr, ed. Hâjirï, in al-Kâtib al-Misri, June 1946

nn

AX—Ad

*

’

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JÀHIZ’S WORKS

21

of his, probably Abü Harb al-Saffâr. The flavour of the piece is in marked contrast to the stereotyped poetry of the time. XXIV. Character sketch?2. This piece, also in prose, is perhaps a description of Muhammad b. al-Jahm al-Barmaki33. XXY. Attack on the [present] day34: a prose-poem in which the author laments the evils of his time. XXVI. Types of singers35 must also be placed in this category. The interest of this piece, of which only a small fragment has survived, lies in the fact that in it Jâhiz first mentions a new idea of his, namely the publication of a directory of the singers of Baghdad for the year 215 (830-31). This directory was apparently to be issued annually. We do not know, however, whether Jâhiz ever carried out his plan.

QUASI-SCIENTIFIC WORKS

The writings in this group, similarly, are intended as a contribution towards a general education based on Arabic sources plus some foreign elements. They also aim to make the reader think, both about received knowledge and about nature and the evidence it offers of the existence of God. XXVII. The circle and the square36. This is a poor translation of the title of what is in many ways an odd work. This is its proper place, since though it contains some literary features it also draws attention to a variety of problems whose traditional solution is unsatisfactory to a Mu'tazilite. As the Arabs would say, this book is the central pearl in the necklace. It marks the culmination of Jâhiz’s campaign against mere servile imitation and his efforts to stimulate thought and win the reader for the Mu'tazilite cause. Many of the questions raised are not answered, though in some cases a solution is put forward in the succeeding work. XXVIII. Animals37. This is a monumental work in seven volumes, in which the author takes certain animals and sets out verses, anec¬ dotes and traditions concerning them. At the same time Jâhiz takes the opportunity to deal with a host of different topics according to his favourite method of digression and anecdote. The Book of Animals is zoology in the sense that as a disciple of Aristotle Jâhiz is 32 [Hija’) Muhammad b. al-Jahm al-Barmaki, ed. Hâjiri, ibid., February 1947, pp. 59-60. 33 On this person see G. Lecomte, in Arabica, V, 1958/3. 34 Fi dhamm al-zamân, in Sandübï, Rasa'il, pp. 310-11. 33 Fi tabaqât al-mughannin, in 11 Risâla, pp. 186-9. 36 Kitâb al-tarbi' wa al-tadwir, ed. Pellat, Damascus, 1955. 37 Kitâb al-hayawân, ed. Hârün, Cairo, undated.

22

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

interested in the structure, habits and behaviour of animals. It is also theology, for the author is continually at pains to demonstrate that everything in nature has its uses and is evidence of the existence and wisdom of God. This is the cardinal theme to which he reverts time and again. The compilation of these seven volumes during his illness must have represented a superhuman effort for Jâhiz, who was spurred on only by his great urge to carry out an act of devotion. The book is also unfinished, though it is continued in XXIX. Mules38, which is but a faint echo of the main work. This little book in no sense represents an act of devotion, being a literary compilation about a hybrid animal which was the subject of innumer¬ able anecdotes and verses. XXX. Capital cities and the wonders of countries39. Jâhiz, who has travelled hardly at all, and is not yet capable of methodical descrip¬ tion, introduces geography into adab at a time when geographical writing is just starting among the Arabs, indeed when books on any purely practical subject are a complete novelty. The book would deserve the description of human geography if its author had shown rather more self-discipline and had not uncritically accepted so many obvious myths. Most critics agree in dismissing it as trivial and medi¬ ocre, mainly on account of the topographical errors it contains40. Muqaddasï41 sees a resemblance between this book and the one by Ibn al-Faqih, which is really a work of adab and not of any real practical value. The only geographer to speak well of it is Ibn Hauqal42. It cannot properly be called geography, since Jâhiz’s object seems to have been to describe the particular characteristics of each city and country in literary rather than objective terms. At the same time he sought to pinpoint the essential character of their inhabitants43. Despite all this, the passages that have survived are of great value: for rather than simply giving itineraries and distances, like geographical works of the period, they furnish us with a great deal of detailed information about the peoples of the areas in question. Jâhiz is also at pains to elaborate a favourite theory of his, the in¬ fluence of soil and environment on the human organism. This idea is pursued in another text, 38 Kitâb al-qaul fi al-bighâl, ed. Pellat, Cairo, 1375 (1955). 39 Kitâb al-amsûr wa 'ajaUb al-buldân, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129. 40 Cf. Mas'üdï, Tanbih, in Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum, Vol. VIII p. 55. 41 In Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum, Vol. Ill, p. 5. 43 Ibid., Vol. I, p. 265. 43 Cf. ibid., Vol. Ill, p. 33. He ascribes a good or bad quality to each great city: eloquence to Küfa, industry to Baçra, trade to Misr Egypt, avarice to Merv, etc.

JÂHIz’s WORKS

23

XXXI. Superiority of the blacks to the whites44. This title might suggest that Jâhiz, who was probably of African origin, was a racialist, intent on disparaging the white race to which the Arabs belong. He certainly displays a good deal of gusto in recounting the glories of his own race, quoting as object-lessons famous figures from Arab history and expatiating on the civilization of the Indians (whom he regards as akin to the Negro peoples). But in fact this work is placed here because it is really a piece of anthropology. The author devotes much space to his theory that the skin colour of Negroes is the result solely of soil and climate. XXXII. The food of the early Arabs45. A Kitâb Afimat al-'Arab is attributed to Jâhiz, and we have therefore detached the last chapter of the Book of Misers (see XLI); it is primarily a glossary, but some interesting details about the way of life of pre-Islamic Arabs give it ethnological importance.

Category III: Traditional adab, merging into the portrayal of people and society In the 2nd and 3rd centuries adab as defined by Nallino46 took various forms. Scribes of Persian origin, heirs to the wisdom of Persia and India, felt impelled to give moral instruction to one and all and to lay down rules of conduct for the different social classes, beginning with rulers; they produced two types of adab, not always sharply differentiated from each other. The first was concerned with general ethics, the second with worldly wisdom and polite behaviour, derived mainly from the Persian tradition. Two books in the latter category are attributed to Jâhiz. One, Akhlâq al-wuzarâ\ or ‘Rules of conduct for viziers’, is lost. The other, the Book of the Crown41, has survived: in it the author describes the etiquette in force at the Sàsânian court and under the caliphs, and gives advice to the rulers of the Empire. It is obvious both from the substance and the style that it is not by Jâhiz, so I propose to follow my rule and leave it out of account here. Two other didactic pieces are also wrongly attributed to Jâhiz, Kitâb tahdhïb al-akhlàq, or ‘Book of purifica¬ tion of morals’, and Kitâb al-dalâ’il wa al-i’tibâr, or ‘Book of proofs and lessons’. Jâhiz had not, however, altogether abandoned the 44 Kitâb fakhr al-südân 'alâ al-bîdân, ed. G. van Vloten, in Tria opuscula, pp. 57-85. 45 French translation by Pellat in Arabica, 1955/2. 46 Littérature arabe (French translation), pp. 7-28. 47 Kitâb al-tâj fi akhlâq al-mulük, trans. Pellat, Paris, 1954.

24

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

essay in morality, and fortunately a number of his letters survive in which he allows himself free rein. He quotes authorities of every kind, from the Koran to contemporary humorists, and throughout the texts expresses his own ideas: at least, they appear to be original even if, as seems likely, they are not always so. The style is inimitable, and the depth of observation equals the delicacy of the irony. We have already come across one portrait (XXIV), and the first page of The circle and the square (XXVII) is exceptional in Arabic literature for the originality the author displays in portraying an unsympathetic character. In his moral adab Jâhiz uses a different technique. He urges the acquisition of good qualities and the sup¬ pression of bad ones, but without the tone of moral censure normally considered de rigueur among Mu'tazilites. Each trait of character is treated separately. Admittedly Jâhiz allows himself to reproduce a wealth of anecdotes and memorable sayings for his readers’ edi¬ fication; but at the same time his analysis tends to be more profound than that of earlier writers. He is always at pains to dissect his characters carefully and describe their individual reactions. The study of manners and personalities merges imperceptibly into that of emotions, some of which (such as envy, for instance) are hardly distinguishable from good or bad qualities. It becomes possible to identify distinct social types (such as misers) on the basis of their sharing a common trait or emotion.

MANNERS

The first text containing practical rules of conduct, apart from those already mentioned, bears the title Kitâb al-hijab, or ‘[The utility of] withdrawing [from one’s underlings]’48. It is, however, only doubt¬ fully attributable to Jâhiz. After a brief preamble, the author pro¬ ceeds to list hadiths unfavourable to the employment of doorkeepers; then still drawing on Islamic tradition, he quotes historical examples of the advice given by famous men to their doorkeepers. Next he considers the reasons for the employment of these servants, and the qualities needed in them. This text, apart from its dubious author¬ ship, consists entirely of quotations in prose and verse, and we shall therefore not include translations from it. The only text that can properly be placed in this category is XXXIII. Letter for this world and the next on manners, conduct and human relationships49. As its lengthy title indicates, this is a guide to 48 In Sandübï, Rasa'it, pp. 155-86. 49 Risàlat al-ma'âd wa al-ma'âsh fi al-adab wa tadbir al-nàs wa mu'amalatihim, in Kraus-Hâjirï, Majmü', pp. 1-36.

JÂHIZ’S WORKS

25

etiquette; but it is copiously interspersed with digressions and psychological comments.

CHARACTER TRAITS

Biographical information about Jàhiz suggests that he wrote essays on virtues such as meekness and forgiveness, resolution and energy. These texts are lost, however, and all we have on these topics is passages scattered in other books. We also have a fragment of a risâla entitled Fl istinjâz al-wa'd50 (‘The fulfilment of the promise’), in which the author commends the keeping of promises; but the short extract is virtually untranslatable. Material on the subject of bad qualities is more plentiful: they are dealt with in a number of surviving texts, which are full of digressions and oddities. Anger and its consequences are dealt with in XXXIY. Jest and earnest51—a title which in fact describes the author’s approach rather than the subject-matter. Envy is dealt with in two essays: XXXV. The difference between hostility and envy52, which contains some odd details about the risks writers run in approaching patrons and XXXVI. The envious and the envied55. Indiscretion is attacked in XXXVII. The art of keeping secrets and holding one's tongue5*, which is, however, partly counterbalanced by another text, XXXVIII. Superiority of speech to silence55. Snobbishness and pride are the subjects of an essay of which a fragment survives: XXXIX. True and assumed nobility; an attack on pride56. Narrow-mindedness is criticized in XL. Stewards, and those that appoint them51, while avarice is analysed and illustrated in XLI. Misers5*. Though obviously designed to demonstrate that 50 In 11 Risâla, pp. 173-7. 51 Ft al-jidd wa al-hazl, in Majmû’, pp. 61-98. 52 Fi fast mâ bain al-'adâwa wa al-hasad, in Majmû', pp. 99-124. 53 Fi al-hâsid wa al-mahsûd, in 11 Risâla, pp. 1-13. 54 Kitâb kitmân al-sirr wa hifz al-lisân, in Majmû', pp. 37-60. 55 Tafdil al-nutq 'alâ al-samt, in 11 Risâla, pp. 148-54. 56 Al-nubl wa al-tanabbul wa dhamm al-kibr, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129, 227b238b. 57 Fi al-wukalâ’ wa al-muwakkilin, in 11 Risâla, pp. 170-2. 58 Kitâb al-bukhalâ', French translation by Pellat, Paris, 1951.

26

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

Arabs excel in generosity whereas non-Arabs are inclined to be niggardly, the Book of Misers gives us a portrait gallery supplemented by humorous anecdotes of a piquancy all their own and unique in Arabic literature. Certain allusions and somewhat peculiar passages in this work have led us to place here two other texts, unfortunately represented only by short fragments: XLII. Robbers and their tricks59, and XLIII. Vagrants and their tricks60. EMOTIONS

In the works listed above Jâhiz displays a remarkable talent for human observation; and he examines in passing certain emotions such as envy and jealousy. We have, however, thought it best to place in a separate category the various texts concerned with love (there is also a fragment on friendship61, which is not translatable). The first analysis of the emotion of love is found in a self-contained essay, XLIV. Love and women61. This is linked with another text entitled Fasl ma bain al-rijâl wa al-nisa1, wa farq ma bain al-dhukür wa alinath (The difference between men and women, and the distinction between males and females’). Jâhiz tells us in Hay aw an that in the latter text he considered such questions as when women are superior to men and vice versa, whether a child contains more of its father or of its mother, in which cases women’s rights should be absolutely guaranteed, what sort of work is most appropriate for women, and in which occupations they are most efficient. It is a pity that this text is lost, for it would probably have contained opinions unusual for the period and the social context. It must be remembered, moreover, that among Arabs, at any rate town-dwellers, passionate love is generally kept distinct from con¬ jugal love; the former can be aroused only by professionals. In his attempt to define it, Jâhiz gives us in a remarkable text a description of the morals of a social group, namely the singing slave-girls, who receive a careful education and are specially trained by their masters with an eye to exploiting their particular talents to the full: XLV. Singing slave-girls63. Though he also wrote a diatribe against adultery (Kitab dhamm al-zina', now lost), Jâhiz does not appear particularly shocked by the existence of these ladylike prostitutes. 59 60 61 62 63

In Baihaqï, Mahasin, pp. 522-3. Ibid., pp. 622-4. Ft al-mawadda wa al-khilfa, in Sandübï, Rasâ'il, pp. 303-10. Ft al-ishq wa al-nisâ', ibid., pp. 266-75. Kitüb al-qiyân, ed. Finkel, in Three Essays, pp. 53-75.

JÀHIZ’S WORKS

27

While in this field, homosexuality, a vice common among the Arabs, is not overlooked: indeed, we possess three texts on the subject, namely Dhamm al-liwât, which we shall pass by, XLYI. Superiority of the belly to the back64, in which the author shows himself definitely hostile to homosexuality, and XLVII. Boasting-match between girls and pretty boys65, in which the arguments on the two sides are set out in the form of an oratorical contest. Physical defects would appropriately follow after character traits; and there is in fact an anthology concerned with the lame, the leprous and the bald66. It is, however, difficult to select extracts from it, for there is little in it of the author’s personality.

SOCIAL GROUPS

Social groups have already been portrayed in books such as Misers and Singing slave-girls: and obviously there is an easy transition from character traits or emotions to categories of individuals pos¬ sessing such features in common. In the 2nd century a.d. writers were busy collecting together traditions about various Arab tribes and recalling the life-stories of persons belonging to particular groups —starting, of course, with transmitters of traditions, then the fuqahà', governors, cadis, etc. They were also not above compiling collections of amusing anecdotes, no doubt with the aim of con¬ tributing to the development of adab. But these were feeble attempts, never amounting to a full-scale portrayal of a social setting. Not until Jâhiz was this achieved—as it certainly is in some of the books we have been describing. It seems proper, indeed highly appropriate, to add here XLVIII. In praise of tradesmen and disparagement of officialdom67, in which two social groups are contrasted, and XLIX. An attack on secretaries68. Only part of this book is by Jâhiz. 64 65 66 67 68

Fi tafdil al-batn 'alâ al-zahr, in MS. Brit. Mus. 1129, 220b-227b. Kitâb mufâkharât al-jawâri wa al-ghilmân, ed. Pellat, Beirut, 1958. Kitàb al-urjân wa al-bursân wa al-qur’ân, MS. Rabat. FI madh al-tujjar wa dhamm 'amal al-sulfan, in 11 Risâla, pp. 155-60. Dhamm al-kuttâb, French translation by Pellat in Hespéris, 1956/1-2.

Part Two

TEXTS IN TRANSLATION

Semi-political, semi-theological works AN ACCOUNT OF MU'TAZILITE DOCTRINE

I The merits of dogmatic theology as a calling II Questions and answers about knowledge III Traditions and the requirements for their authenticity IV Proofs of prophecy V The createdness of the Koran VI Concerning the book on legal opinions VII Concerning anthropomorphism VIII Drink and the drinker IX Justification of nabidh

DEFENCE OF THE 'ABBÀSIDS AGAINST THEIR OPPONENTS

X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII

The 'Abbâsids Superiority of the Banü Hàshim to the 'Abd Shams An account of Shî'ite doctrine Reply on the imamate Support for 'Ali over the arbitration by two arbiters The 'Uthmâniyya The Nâbita Refutation of the Christians The merits of the Turks and of the Imperial army as a whole

AN ACCOUNT OF MU'TAZILITE DOCTRINE I THE MERITS OF DOGMATIC THEOLOGY AS A CALLING 1. Dialectic and its dangers You tell me of your admiration for the calling of dogmatic theo¬ logian, of your sympathy for the doctrines of al-Nazzâm*, of your inclination towards formal logic, and of your eagerness, despite your love of unity [under the Sunni* flag] and your hatred of discord, to see the sects purged. You tell me also of your readiness to devote yourself to long and painstaking research, to seek to overcome people’s reluctance to think for themselves, and to join the ranks of the dialecticians and become acquainted with them. You tell me of your ambition to strive to find favour and win your divine reward. O dialectician of the jamâ’a*, O Sunni* faqih*, O Mu'tazilite thinker, you who aspire to dialectic at a time when the rest of the world is forsaking it, who are prepared to set yourself against the people in an attempt to win your divine reward, who are satisfied in matters of belief only with perfect purity, as regards the sects only with refined gold, and as regards thought only with the most crystalclear, you who take care not to follow the example of fools or the scum of the populace . . . , [know that] the practice of dialectic is a costly jewel, a precious gem, an inexhaustible treasure, everlasting, an untiring and unchanging friend; that it is the touchstone of all action, the bridle of all utterance, the scale that discovers sufficiency or deficiency, the filter that reveals the purity or impurity of all things. Know also that the practice of dialectic presents many dangers and unusual difficulties. Some are manifest, others are apparent only to the mind and not to the eye, and are to be detected only by a sound and well-developed intellect and a pure and open mind. Their recognition requires, moreover, a long apprenticeship in thinking, assiduous reading, and much discussion with brilliant fellow-students and patient teachers. To reach the highest levels, the peaks of learning, a man must have a healthy appetite for knowledge and

SEMI-POLITICAL, SEMI-THEOLOGICAL WORKS

33

prefer this calling to all others, in the conviction that success is proportionate to effort and that if he knocks long enough the door will open. If learning is given the devotion it deserves, it gives a man the rewards he has earned. The author then enumerates some of these dangers. Those who use kalâm* soon imagine themselves expert in it and superior to their opponents; but they lay themselves open to attack by the ignorant, while other practitioners escape. Again, the practice of kalâm* requires the participation of several persons, which may result in bitter disputes. 2. Dialectic and the exact sciences One of the complaints of dogmatic theologians against members of other professions is that mathematicians or geometricians [for in¬ stance] claim that kalâm* is a discipline which uses as its tools the effort of abstract thought, intuitive discernment, conjecture and elegant presentation. In fact it is a science compounded of all that is most natural and compelling, without the possibility of ambiguity or misinterpretation of its terms. They claim that in terms of pre¬ cision and conviction there is no difference between knowing that something is a single thing and knowing that it is different from something else. If this geometrician with his theorem proved, or this mathematician with his result announced, were to study kalâm* with an open mind and good will, using suitable methods and complete concentration, with honest intent and sustained attention, hungry for learning and confident of success, he would realize the need to eschew hasty judgments—especially since our knowledge of kalâm* is still only at an intermediate stage. The geometricians and mathematicians who argue in this way are usually men who do not scruple to put forward unconsidered views and do not fear the reproaches of true scholars.

II

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ABOUT KNOWLEDGE

Knowledge is a controversial matter. Some regard it as a human ac¬ tivity, resulting from perception by the senses, though knowledge of God is spontaneous. This is the view of the Mu'tazilite Bishr b. al-Mu'tamir, although he differs from other Mu'tazilites about sense-perception. 1. Forms of knowledge Others maintain that there are eight forms of knowledge, one free and seven imposed by the natural world. Five of the latter are the

34

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

perceptions of the five senses; then there is knowledge of the truth of received science, such as [geography, concerned with] towns and villages, biography and traditions; and finally there is man’s aware¬ ness of others as evinced in his replies in conversation. The category of free knowledge includes knowledge of God and His messengers, of the interpretation of the Book, of legal opinions and judgments, disputes and lawsuits, and of all that can be understood by rational examination. The leader of this school of thought is Abü Ishâq al-Nazzâm*. Mu'ammar* holds that knowledge has ten forms. Five are the perceptions of the senses. The sixth consists of knowledge of such subjects as past biography and present-day countries. The seventh is man’s awareness of being addressed in conversation. There was a time when man’s consciousness of his own existence came next, but Mu'ammar places it first, before the perceptions of the senses, on the grounds that ‘man’s discovery of himself must precede his discovery of other things’. He regards it as an awareness distinct from the perceptions of the senses, since man is conscious of his own existence even if he is blind, cannot smell himself, etc.; hence this concept must be distinguished from the perceptions of the senses and constitute a separate eighth form of knowledge. The ninth form is man’s knowledge that he must be either created or everlasting; and the tenth, his knowledge that he is created and not everlasting. 2. Refutation of al-Nazzâm and his disciples Tell us about knowledge of God and His messengers, the interpreta¬ tion of the Books, predestination, divine will, and legal judgments: is all this knowledge innate or acquired? If they answer that it is acquired, we say to them : And your knowledge of the fact that it is acquired, do you say that it is innate or acquired? If they reply ‘Acquired’, we say: And the contrary belief, is it also acquired? If they say ‘Yes’, we answer them as follows: So belief in what is true and in what is false are both acquired; but is not everyone who acquires knowledge convinced in his own conscience that he is in the right? If they reply in the affirmative, we continue: What then can protect the righteous from error, if a clear conscience is not an index of truth? If that were so, he that is in error would be in the right, since his conscience is as clear as the righteous. The contrary would only make sense if he that is in error felt some doubt, uncertainty or weakness within himself: if not, then the two cases are identical. If they reply: ‘The difference is that the peace of mind of the righteous is truth itself, whereas the peace of mind of him that is in error is

SEMI-POLITICAL, SEMI-THEOLOGICAL WORKS

35

error itself’, we say: That does not mean, does it, that the peace of mind of him that is in error is in any way disturbed? If they agree, we reply: Then how can the righteous be certain that his peace of mind is not error itself, since it differs in no way from the peace of mind of him that is in error? If pious devotion is an index of peace of mind in both cases, who shows more devotion than the monk in his cell, the Khârijite* who sacrifices his life, etc.? 3. The author's view I propose to state my own view about knowledge and reply to my opponents in the matter of ‘capacity’ (is tit a a*) and the case where responsibility is admitted. I say, first, that God does not compel a man to do or not do anything, unless he is beyond argument and forgiveness. A man is only a man if he has a sound constitution, a balanced personality and various choices open to him, is free, knows how to perform the action in question, is in possession of all his faculties, has an open mind, and is aware of his rights and obliga¬ tions. He will not be truly ‘capable’ unless he has these attributes and is in a situation in which he can exercise freedom of choice and in which there is admitted responsibility and the possibility of reward or punishment. If ‘capacity’ meant no more than a sound mind, a man without a ladder to climb [up something] would still be capable of doing so. In reply to those who ask whether knowledge is acquired or innate, I say that man knows God only through His messengers, not through concepts such as motion and stillness, union and separation or increase and decrease. Yet we know that some of the monotheists managed to perceive signs of the existence of God, having first be¬ come acquainted with Him through His messengers. In this they took upon themselves a task beyond their obligation, and penetrated mysteries inaccessible to the ordinary mortal. But in so doing they were not impelled by doubt or uncertainty: the signs given by the messengers are compelling, their proofs clear, their testimony dazzling, their power overwhelming and their demonstration con¬ clusive. If they ask me: Was their recognition of the truthfulness of the messengers by acquisition or by innateness? I reply: By innate¬ ness. Then they may say: How could a man who had seen the Prophet and his proof, and the false prophet and his wiles, distinguish the truthfulness of the former from the imposture of the latter, having not pondered on it? If you say that he did ponder on it, then you are reverting to acquired knowledge. If you say the contrary, then how could he tell the difference between the two, since he could not 4

36

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

distinguish the true proof from trickery? What kept him from falling into error, seeing that he had not pondered on the things of this world or tested its laws so as to be able to tell the possible from the im¬ possible or the contingent from its opposite? How could he do so, seeing that he did not know the rules of life or the laws of nature, or the limits of cunning, the point at which trickery fails, and the kind of things it can and cannot surmount? How did he recognize the truthfulness of the Prophet when he saw his testimony and wit¬ nessed his miracles, without having first tested them and explored their inner meaning, seeing that he disbelieved the truthfulness of the false prophet when he worked his wonders, his trickery and his frauds before him? Again, how was it that he did not know God when his gaze fell upon the world, without needing to ponder on it or seek to understand its mysteries, seeing that the whole world provides the criterion that made it possible for him to recognize the truthfulness of the Prophet when he saw his signs, without needing to ponder on them or examine their meaning? We know that the world is a proof, and that the testimony of the Prophet is a proof; if thought is unnecessary for one of them, so it is for the other. Both by analogy and by reason there is no difference between them. We reply: The explanation lies in the adult’s experience of life before coming upon the Prophet’s signs. For if he came upon them without having first acquired knowledge and experience of the world and its ways, he would recognize the truthfulness of the Prophet only after many premises and revelations. The onlooker is convinced by evidence only if he already has experience of the world and is acquainted with its ways and its laws. If he had not enough experience to recognize the limitations of human devices and contrivances, to distinguish the possible from the impossible, and to tell what can happen by accident and what cannot, it would mean nothing to him. They may say: But how did he see, understand and experience the world if he came upon the Prophet’s signs (or the Prophet and his signs came upon him) when he was an innocent child or a young man —for a man is still an infant until he reaches the age of reason? Was it by means of a direct and sudden comprehension? In which of the two cases had he seen, understood and experienced the world? Was it when he was an innocent child—which would be extraordinary and against nature—or after growing up and coming into possession of all his faculties? That was the age at which God showed him the prophetic mission, and led him to see the signs and hear the argu¬ ments. If it were as you say, he could only have recognized the truth¬ fulness of the Prophet—who had shown him his signs and told him his arguments—after much time spent in the study of nature and in

SEMI-POLITICAL, SEMI-THEOLOGICAL WORKS

37

gaining experience of the world. This being so, why do you say that he was an adult when he was unable to tell the difference between a prophet and an impostor? We reply: experience is of two kinds. The first is when a man deliberately tests something to discover whether its substance corresponds to its appearance. The second is when he attains this knowledge without intending to. He may be said to acquire experience purposefully or inadvertently. Obviously an adult, between being weaned and becoming grown up, has had all sorts of experiences and been in all sorts of situations, which have added to his knowledge of the world as derived from the sight of its marvels. Every moment of every day he has had new experiences. As his tongue has grown stronger, his bones harder and his flesh sturdier, so his knowledge has increased—as a result of his mother’s petting, his nurse’s coaxing, the company of a playmate or the attentions of a doctor, and as a result also of his innate urges, his natural tendencies and the stimulus of hunger and pain. Thus while he has been getting stronger, his bones and flesh becoming firm, his frame growing from the food he has been eating, and his restlessness and continual tantrums adding to his strength, at the same time his understanding has improved. When he has begun to crawl on all fours and laugh and cry, can break a crock or soil a garment, is fit to be scolded or smacked by the slave who looks after him, then he has reached the stage of under¬ standing what he is told to do or not do and knowing when he does wrong—just as a dog answers to its name when set on against other dogs, or a madman knows his own surname, or a horse breaks into a gallop under the lash, being accustomed to the feel of it on his back. When all this is firmly rooted in his mind and body, and familiar to him, then he is responsible and adult. This is the time when God, through a true messenger, puts comforting words in his ears and com¬ pelling sights before his eyes; He does not leave him astray or abandoned once He has fully developed his body, strengthened his frame and endowed him with talents. When he sees one of God’s messengers bringing the dead back to life, healing lepers or men blind from birth, or cleaving the waves of the sea, he needs not to take thought, or be urged on, or be shown proofs or experiences; he has already passed that stage, and his understanding is perfect.

Ill

TRADITIONS AND THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THEIR AUTHENTICITY

This text is undoubtedly important for the methodology of history and hadith, but all that has survived is a short extract. It bears the title

38

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

al-Akhbâr (secular tradition), and deals not with the authenticity of traditional data but merely with the attitude to religion of the four peoples whom Jàhiz regards as civilized, viz., the early Arabs, the Indians, the Byzantines and the Persians. The author expands an idea mentioned elsewhere (see XXVIII, 40), namely the surprising contrast between these peoples’ intelligence and level of craftsmanship and their religious beliefs. The latter would seem altogether untenable to a Muslim, especially one accustomed to the supremacy of reason. The Byzantines and their beliefs [178] . . . Let us consider the Byzantines. They are physicians, philosophers and astronomers, they know the rules of music, and how to make a pair of scales, and in sculpture they attain perfection. Their artists can not only portray the human frame in every detail, but can reproduce at will the appearance of youth, maturity or old age; they can depict the most perfect beauty, and show laughter or tears; they can even distinguish between the sardonic laugh and the demure laugh, between a glad smile and a sad one, and between hearty, ironical and threatening laughter—thus portraying one image inside another. In building, cabinet-making and craftsmanship they are unequalled. They also possess a book [of revelation] and [have based their society on] religion. Nevertheless, despite all these good qualities, they believe that there are three gods, of whom one only is revealed and the other two hidden. For them, just as a lamp must have oil, a wick and a con¬ tainer, so must the divine essence [be threefold]. They hold that a creature became creator; that a slave turned into a lord; and that a created [being] was transformed into an uncreate [being], but that he was then killed and crucified, disappeared and had a crown of thorns placed on his head. According to them, he was brought back to life after his death. His reason for allowing his subjects to arrest, imprison, kill and crucify him was in order to share his children’s sufferings; he wished to help them to be like him, so that they would not attach importance to the [ills] that afflicted them, or think too highly of their actions, but try to act in all things on their Lord’s behalf. Their excuse is more serious than their error. Had we not seen with our own eyes and heard with our own ears [the things we have been recounting], we would not credit or accept that a nation of theologians, physicians, astronomers, mathematicians, diplomats and skilled craftsmen of every sort could maintain that a man who has been seen to eat and drink, urinate and defaecate, feel hunger and thirst, dress and undress, grow and shrink, and was killed and cruci¬ fied, could be a Lord and a creator, uncreate not created, who makes the living to die and brings the dead back to fife.

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IV

39

PROOFS OF PROPHECY 1. Scope of this book

[117] . . . We shall consider historical traditions and give some in¬ formation about traditions in religion; isolate the factors [that make it possible to tell] the false argument from the true proof, and dis¬ tinguish between the proof that engages the élite and not the people [and that which binds everybody]; elucidate the category of traditions in which the minority acts as a proof against the majority, and the cases where a few [documents] are more conclusive than many [facts]; explain why a tradition based on a weak foundation has become widespread, while another, more soundly based, has had no currency; [give the reasons] why a tradition can be of great antiquity and come under attack from a host of critics, and yet be immune from change and corruption; [show] the importance of transmitting and hearing religious and historical traditions; [tell] of the morals of men and their fathers, of the doctrines of their forbears, of the con¬ duct of bygone rulers and the fate reserved for them, of the laws of their prophets and chief messengers, of the example set by their wise men, of the doctrines of their religious leaders and jurists, and of the position of their unknown contemporaries; [say] why quoting traditions is easier for men than keeping quiet, and silence harder for them than speech, what sort of information they can conceal and keep to themselves and what they must needs reveal and broadcast, why nations are entirely frank on certain matters but disagree on others, why they remember some things and forget others, why candour is commoner than falsehood, and why silence is weightier and speech pleasanter. It is surprising to find jurists not discriminating between traditions, and theologians not troubling to set up tests of their authenticity, since it is through them that we are enabled to tell the true prophet from the false and the honest from the fraudulent, through them that we can distinguish between divine law and human law, between duty and unnecessary act, prohibition and permission, union and separa¬ tion, exception and rule, rejection and objection, hell and heaven, and good and bad generally. Whilst arranging and classifying traditions, [118] I shall mention the proofs and signs of the Prophet, the divine laws he handed down and the traditional rules he established; then I shall classify traditions according to their worth, and arrange them in their proper places, in a clear, accessible and compact form, so that all [readers], whether they have heard only a few and have a bad memory or have heard

40

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

many and remembered many, may obtain an equal understanding of them. After demonstrating that conclusions drawn from visual evidence are logically valid, the author stresses the fact that proof is of two kinds, visual evidence and authentic tradition. Then he at once proceeds to speculate on the question 2. Why earlier generations did not collect together the proofs of the Prophet Returning to the signs and tokens [119] of the Prophet, and the arguments in favour of his proofs and testimonies, I say this: If our ancestors, who compiled written editions of the Koran, which hitherto had been scattered in men’s memories, and united the people behind the reading of Zaid [b. Thâbit*], whereas hitherto other readings had had free currency, and established a text free from all additions or omissions, [if these early Muslims] had likewise collected the signs of the Prophet, his arguments, proofs and miracles, the divers manifestations of his wondrous life, both at home and abroad, and on the occasion when he preached to a great multitude, to a huge crowd whose testimony is not to be doubted, unless by ignorant fools or bigoted opponents [of Islam], [if our ancestors had carried out this task, no one] today could challenge the truth of these things, neither atheist zindiq*, stubborn materialist, licentious fop, gullible moron or callow stripling. [This sunna*] would have had as much currency among the common people as among the élite, and all our aristocrats would see the truth [of their religion] as clearly as they perceive the falsity [of the beliefs] of Christians and Zoroastrians; the unbeliever would be unable to mock the fool who comes and asks him to dictate [traditions] to him, or the youth for whom he gilds the pill. Were there not so many idiots in our community, and so many interlopers speaking our language and taking advantage of our de¬ bate to dupe the foolish and credulous amongst us, we would not trouble to batter at open doors or set out the arguments and evidence in favour of a manifest [truth]. The first Muslims were brought [to commit this omission] by their confidence in the manifest radiance [of the acts of the Prophet]; but we are come to this pass because dunces, youths, madmen and profligates are wanting in diligence, and show themselves uncon¬ cerned, callow and neglectful ; also because before acquiring even the elements of kalâm* they have filled their heads with more subtleties than their strength can manage or their minds contain. They have forsaken truth, and stray to the right and the left. Whosoever does

SEMI-POLITICAL, SEMI-THEOLOGICAL WORKS

41

not keep to the broad path walks blindly; whosoever holds on to a branch before making sure it is sound runs the risk of falling; and whosoever deceives himself by taking on a task beyond his strength and fails to achieve the impossible loses what he could have attained. Jàhiz expands his views on Zaid's version, on the uniqueness of the Koran (see 7 below) etc., and so comes to the proofs of the Prophet. He has scarcely mentioned these before he turns to 3. The need for the transmission of traditions [125] ... If men were left simply to the sway of their instincts and not impelled by necessity to provide for their needs and give thought to their livelihood and the consequences of things, if they had to rely solely on the thoughts that spring spontaneously from their senses, without hearing from God about the ideas of their forbears, the conduct of earlier generations and the Books of the Lord of the world, they would grasp but a minute part of all knowledge, and understand but little. Had God not given nobility and learning to the scholar, and power and rank to the man of understanding, [had He not] vouchsafed them wisdom and the ability to understand the consequences, He would have subjected nothing to them and sub¬ jected them to nothing, nor have stamped them with the stamp of intelligent beings, scholars and sagacious men of learning. Had He intended the child to have understanding and the madman learning, He would have created them understanding and learned by nature. Just as He intended wild beasts to be ferocious, iron to be sharp, poison to be mortal and food to be comforting, so He intended the man gifted for understanding to be a scholar, the man fit for wisdom to be a sage, the man in possession of proofs to be a mentor, and the fortunate man one who takes advantage of his good fortune. God knows that man cannot of himself provide for his needs, and does not instinctively realize the consequences of things without the benefit of the example of messengers, the books of his forbears, and information about past centuries and rulers; therefore has He given each generation the natural duty of teaching the succeeding one, and has made each succeeding generation the touchstone of the truth of the information handed down to it. For hearing many unusual traditions and strange ideas sharpens the mind, enriches the soul, and gives food for thought and an incentive to look further ahead. More knowledge received orally means more ideas, more ideas mean more thought, more thought means more wisdom, and more wisdom means more sensible actions. Exertion and passivity are proportional to the need: just as hope and fear make a man strive

42

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÀHIZ

hard, so despair and security result in apathy. Since God did not create men in the image of Jesus, son of Mary, [126] John, son of Zacharias, and Adam, father of humankind, but created them im¬ perfect and unfit to provide for their own needs, ... He sent His messengers and set up His prophets amongst them, saying: ‘That man should have no argument [with which to prevail] against God after [the coming of] the messengers.’1 But most men were not eye¬ witnesses of the proofs of His messengers, nor did He suffer them to be present at the miracles of His prophets, to hear their arguments or to see their manner of working. Therefore He needed to make those who were present tell those who were absent, and the latter to hearken to the teaching of the former; and He needed to vary the characters and motives of those who were passing on and handing down, in order to show their hearers and the faithful that a large number of people with differing motives and contrasting aims could not all have invented a tradition on the same subject. For just as it is impossible to invent a false tradition on the same subject without collusion or meeting together (unless, that is, it were true), so this collection of people, with their differing motives, could not have met or entered into collusion together; for if they had, it would be known and noised abroad. If it were possible so to invent an imagin¬ ary saying, the proof would be void, the pattern would be upset, the lesson would disappear, the soul would not comprehend the purport of the saying, and men would have the greatest of proofs against God; as He said: ‘That man should have no argument [with which to prevail] against God after [the coming of] the messengers’; for He would be enjoining on them obedience to His messengers, faith in His prophets and His books, and belief in His heaven and His hell, without giving them the proof of the truth of tradition or the possi¬ bility of avoiding error. But God is far above such [an imputation]. 4. It takes all sorts to make a world Know that God gave men different characters so that harmony might reign amongst them, but He did not make them agree on things that would be against their interests. If men’s submission to God were not inspired by a variety of motives, if divine compulsion moved them all in the same direction, then they could all choose authority and politics, and life would become impossible: the public interest would lapse and be replaced by chaos and ruin. Were not their sub¬ mission and their bond inspired by differing motives, they would lose interest in the callings of barber, veterinary surgeon, butcher or 1 Koran, IV, 163/165.

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tanner. But each category of human beings sees its own situation in a favourable light, and so is able to tolerate it. The weaver [127] calls another whom he considers incompetent, clumsy or awkward a barber; the barber, in like circumstances, calls his brother barber a weaver. This is why men are sometimes reluctant to let their children give up the calling of weaver, barber, butcher or tanner. Had God not wished to make diversity a cause of harmony and understanding, He would not have created one short and another tall, one handsome and another ugly, one rich and another poor, one rational and another mad, or one clever and another stupid. He created this diversity in order to test men; and it is by the test that they obey, and by obedi¬ ence that they are contented. He separated them in order to reunite them, wishing to unite them in obedience so that they might be equal in recompense. God be praised! How beautiful is this test! How soundly He wrought, and how carefully He planned! If all men shunned the discredited calling of weaver, we should remain naked; if they all eschewed the toilsome trade of mason, we should live in the open; and if they all forsook agriculture, we should have nothing to eat, and the foundation of our sustenance would crumble. He subjected them without compulsion, and gave them different tastes without coercion. Were not characters and motives varied, all men would choose what is best, such as the countries with the most regular relief, the towns located in the centre. Then they would fight for the central clime, and quarrel over the uplands, so that no country would be able to contain them all, and there would be no peace amongst them . . . [128] . . . Without divergence in tastes, they would fight for the same district, the same name, the same kunya*. As it is, with their varying preferences, they choose ugly names, hideous surnames—for all names are open to them, just as they are free to choose their calling, business and way of life. But these things are free in appearance only; in fact the allocation is made, even if they are unaware both of the arrangement made by the Wise One and of the advantages that go with it. Blessed be He who made one man to call his son Muhammad, another Shahân (Satan), a third 'Abd Allah and a fourth Himàr (donkey); for if He had not diversified men’s tastes in the choice of names, and everyone could take the same one, there would be no means of distinguishing one from another, and social intercourse would suffer . . . [129] ... I have explained the differences between men, and their diversity of characters and tastes, in order to make it plain to you that without collusion it is impossible that a multitude should arrive [130] at the identical invention, bearing on the same point, at the same time . . .

44

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

Now I shall tell you the reasons for similarity and dissimilarity, [explaining] that God created differences only in order to increase men’s happiness and guarantee the authenticity of their traditions. Do you not find that when a merchant sells a piece of goods for a dirham*, he reckons the dirham worth more to him than his piece of goods? But whoever buys the piece of goods for a dirham reckons the piece of goods worth more to him than his dirham. If the merchant saw his piece of goods with the same eyes as the buyer, and the latter saw his dirham with the same eyes as the seller, there could be no trading, and the result would be utter ruination. Praise be to God, who made us to love what is in the hands of others, and others to love what is in our hands, so that trade is feasible, and with it mutual advantage and the possibility of communal life. [131] We do not say that the multitude cannot all fall into error, for example in accepting something as true or rejecting it as false, when we see Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians, Manichaeists, materialists and Buddhists disbelieving in the Prophet, rejecting his tokens and proofs, and saying that he has contributed nothing and is in no way noteworthy. We merely say that the multitude cannot all deny, for instance, that Muhammad b. 'Abd Allah b. 'Abd al-Muttalib alTihàmï al-Abtahl* showed himself at Mecca, preached this and that, enjoined, forbade or permitted this and that, brought the Book that we read and whose precepts we ought to follow, challenged the finest orators and poets to equal him in style, in great assemblies and in many places, without anyone taking up the challenge or producing even a part of the Book or anything like it, or even pretending to do so, so as to invalidate the traditions on these points. For everyone to say they are false is not a refutation, unless mere negation is to be called refutation. Refutation is a kind of confrontation or counter¬ balancing; if [our opponents] quote against us traditions equal to ours in weight, authority and reliability, then they refute us, and controvert us with arguments of equal weight and validity. In that event the score is level, and it is for us to defend ourselves. As for negation, it is not proof; just as assent is not proof, any more than our faith in our Prophet is a proof against our opponents, or their unbelief a proof against us. Proof is something transmitted in such a way that falsity is impossible. After referring to the Christians and showing how legends can arise, Jâhiz explains 5. The concept of prophetic history [133] . . . I have said all this to show you that a weakly based tradi¬ tion can become strong, and vice versa, as a result of the vicissitudes

SEMI-POLITICAL, SEMI-THEOLOGICAL WORKS

45

that befall it between its origin and the time when it comes to an end after being used and serving its purpose. When the situation becomes perilous, and old traditions no longer inspire full confidence, God sets a marker for us at the end of each period of time, a sign to renew the strength of the traditions and refresh the teaching of the messengers when it grows faint. Noah by true testimony and weighty signs renewed the traditions dating from the period [134] between Adam and himself, so as to safeguard them from corruption and protect them from damage. The traditions and proofs of earlier generations had not been blotted out or destroyed; but when they were about to be, God sent His signs so that His proofs might not disappear from the earth. That is why the end of the period is called ‘fatrathere is a difference between bending and breaking, have no doubt of it. Then God sent Abraham at the end of the second period, namely that between the time of Noah and himself; this was the longest fatra* the earth has known, for Noah stayed among his people, expounding, reasoning and explaining, for 950 years, and the last of his signs was also the greatest, namely the Flood, in which God drowned all the people of the earth except Noah and his followers . . . Then the prophets followed one after the other in the period between Abraham and Jesus. Because their proofs were con¬ secutive, their signs manifest, their acts numerous, and their deeds well known, because all of that was deeply rooted in men’s hearts and implanted in their souls, and the whole world spoke of it, their teach¬ ings were not upset or diminished or corrupted during the whole period from Jesus to the Prophet. But when they were on the point of becoming weakened and enfeebled and spent, God sent Muhammad, who renewed the teachings of Adam, Noah, Moses, Aaron, Jesus and John [the Baptist], and added further detail to them; for he is righteous, and his testimony true, [declaring] that the Hour was at hand and that he was the seal of the prophets. We knew then that his proof would endure until the term set for it by God. Jâhiz next shows that important facts are known at once, and pro¬ phetic miracles all the more so; he distinguishes between traditions themselves and their means of transmission, and discusses the problem of traditions by means of question and answer, emphasizing that criticism calls for honesty and knowledge. Thence—though the text seems to be incomplete—he goes on to an analysis of

6. Proofs of prophecy [139] . . . Another touchstone of the truthfulness of a prophet is the foretelling of future events, the revelation of things kept hidden by

46

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

men’s consciences, of what they use up and what they hoard, and the immediate and unconditional fulfilment of their prayers. Thus when the Prophet had been cruelly used at the hands of the Quraishites* and the Arabs, they calling him a liar and conspiring against him with both men and money, he prayed God to deliver up their country to barrenness and bring poverty into their houses, saying: [140] ‘O God, [send them] years like Joseph’s! O God, let Thy hand be heavy upon Mudar*!’ And God denied them rain so that the trees died, the fruit shrivelled up, the crops withered and the flocks perished, and they were forced [to eat] roasted sheepskin and to live on camels’ blood and hair. When the proof was plain enough and the lesson had struck home, the Prophet in his generosity returned to his former ways and asked God for fertility and rain. God let fall so much water on them that their houses were destroyed and they could no longer manage for themselves. They told the Prophet, and he said: ‘O God, [let it rain] around us, not upon us!’ So God made it rain around them, and spared them. Then Muhammad wrote to Chosroes, inviting him to free himself of unbelief and ensure his salvation; and he put his own name first. The king of Persia, miserable wretch that he was, was vexed at this, and ordered the letter to be torn up. When the Prophet heard of it, he cried: ‘O God, tear his kingdom into a thousand pieces!’ And God tore up his kingdom and wiped it out . . . The king of Persia then wrote to Fïrüz al-Dailamï*, one of the last companions of Saif b. [141] Dhl Yazan*: ‘Bring me this slave, who has put his name before mine, insulted me, and invited me to adopt a religion not my own!’ Fïrüz went to the Prophet and said: ‘My master bids me bring you before him.’ ‘My master tells me he killed yours yesterday,’ replied the Prophet; ‘so leave me, till the news reaches you; if it appears that I am telling the truth, [your journey will have been in vain]; if not, carry out your orders.’ These words struck terror and alarm into Fïrüz, so that he did not dare set upon the Prophet or manhandle him; and indeed, he soon learnt that the night before Siroes had attacked and killed the king. Fïrüz sincerely embraced Islam, and invited the last Persians remaining in Arabia to follow suit, which they did . . . I should mention also that the coming of the Prophet was foretold in very ancient books, published in countries far distant one from another; they are to be found everywhere, despite people’s fanatical hostility to Islam and their great hatred and wickedness. If I adduce as an argument the fact that the Prophet is mentioned in the Penta¬ teuch, the Gospels and the Psalms, and that a description of him and the forecast of his coming occur in these books, it is only because

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when a Christian or a Jew embraces Islam in Syria he uses the same reasons and arguments as a new convert in Iraq, and similarly in the Hejaz or the Yemen; and yet they have not met or consulted to¬ gether, and are unknown to one another. How could they meet or write to each other, seeing that they are unaware of each other’s existence? If they did, it would be known and would not remain hidden. Comparing their traditions and their arguments, it becomes clear that despite differences of form and substance they are more or less the same. Jâhiz draws a parallel between Moses’s signs and those of the Prophet, compares the Christians and the Jews, and emphasizes that the Koran is inimitable even among a nation of orators. 7. Inimitableness of the Koran [143] . . . Muhammad has one exclusive sign, which affects the mind in the same way that the dividing of the seas affects the eyes: namely, when he says to the Quraishites in particular and to Arabs in general (and they include many poets and orators, and eloquent, shrewd, wise, tolerant, sagacious, experienced and farsighted men): ‘If you can equal me in a single sura, my claims will be false and you will be entitled to call me a liar.’ It is impossible that people like the Arabs, with their great numbers, their diversity of tastes, [the purity of] their language, which is their crowning glory, with eloquence bubbling and overflowing in their breasts, and their outstanding aptitude for fine language—which has enabled them to speak of snakes, scorpions, wolves, dogs, black and other beetles, asses, pigeons and everything that crawls or runs and everything eyes can see or minds imagine—, who possess every kind of poetic form, such as the qasida*, the rajaz*, etc., as well as prose and rhyming prose, and who moreover hurled insults at the Prophet from every quarter, just as his supporters exchanged lampoons with his opponents’ poets and debated with their orators, and his opponents asked Muhammad riddles in public and disputed with him in assemblies, people who were the first to show enmity and declare war on him, suffering losses themselves and killing some of his supporters, [it is impossible that among these people] who were the fiercest in hatred, the most venge¬ ful, the most sensitive to favour and slight, the most hostile to the Prophet, the quickest to condemn weakness and extol strength, no orator or poet should have dared to take up the challenge; [yet that is what happened.] Knowing what we do, it is unbelievable that words should have been [the weapon] readiest to their hands . . . and yet that the

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Prophet’s opponents should with one accord have refrained from using them, at a time when they were sacrificing their possessions and their lives, and that they should not have said [with one voice] or that not even one of them should have said: Why do you kill yourselves, sacrifice your possessions and forsake your homes, when the steps to be taken against him are simple, and the way of dealing with him easy: let one of your poets or orators compose a speech similar to his, equal in length to the shortest sura he [144] has challenged you to imitate or the meanest verse he has invited you to copy? God sent Moses at a time when Pharaoh believed in the power of magic, Jesus at a time when medicine was highly esteemed, and Muhammad at a time when the highest value was placed on fine language. After enumerating the Prophet’s virtues, Jâhiz replies to a correspondent who has asked him for a concise treatise on theology; this is no doubt Kitâb khalq al-Qur'an, which we have decided to detach (see V below).

V

THE CREATEDNESS OF THE KORAN

Jâhiz replies to a correspondent who complains of the habitual prolixity of the writings of the mutakallimün*, and asks for a treatise on the createdness of the Koran. The author complies with this request, but the only passage directly bearing on the subject is one in which Jâhiz makes some comments on noise, which is an accident. He realizes, however, that he has started at the wrong end, and proceeds (without naming him) to a discourse on The inquisition undergone by Ibn Hanbal* [150] .. . One day the caliph al-Mu'tasim* called together a number of jurists, mutakallimün*, cadis and scholars to judge him and put him on his guard against possible pitfalls in his mode of conduct. Our friend1 said to him: ‘You subjected me to an inquisition, well knowing that such a procedure can have awkward consequences; and moreover you picked on me alone out of the whole community to undergo such an ordeal.’ ‘You are wrong,’ replied the Caliph, ‘or rather, you are lying. My predecessor as caliph imprisoned you and loaded you with chains; [151] had he not taken these steps merely on suspicion, he would surely have had to condemn you, and had he not feared you as a danger to Islam, he would have left you alone. The interrogation about your views to which I subjected you was not an inquisition; it was neither tyrannical nor out of place, for your position and your conduct are well known.’ During these hearings, 1 i.e. Ibn Hanbal.

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someone said to al-Mu'tasim: ‘Why do you not summon his fol¬ lowers to hear his confessions and witness his heresy, so that their conviction may be shaken and he be precluded from denying what he had confessed in front of them?’ But the Caliph rejected this suggestion as unworthy. ‘I do not wish’, he said, ‘to have people brought here whom if I suspected I should have to treat as I have treated him, and whom if their guilt became apparent I should be bound to condemn. So long as they are not brought before me, they are like my other subjects and no different from the rest of the community. Nothing pleases me more than peace among my people, and nothing befits me better than benevolence and gentleness.’ And indeed the Caliph continued to show himself benevolent and well disposed towards him. ‘I would rather arouse in you a sense of shame by showing you the truth’, he said to him, ‘than kill you for truth’s sake.’ He even remained [imperturbable] whilst the other stood out against proof and lied shamelessly in his answers. The man’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the truth when it was before his eyes reached its highest point when Ahmad b. Abï Du’àd* asked him: ‘Is it true that a thing must be either created or uncreated?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And the Koran is a thing?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Is it true that only God is uncreated?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘So the Koran is created?’ T am no dialectician,’ he replied at last. This was his way when dealing with questions; when he reached an impasse, the point at which a single word from him would have lost him the support of his followers, he would reply: T am no dialec¬ tician.’ He neither said at the outset that he was unskilled in dialectic nor, having had his say and arrived at a crux in the disputation, was he willing to acknowledge the truth. At this point the Caliph ex¬ claimed contemptuously: ‘Shame on this man, who is ignorant at one moment and obstinate the next!’ The moment when he had the effrontery to lie brazenly to the Caliph and insult the community, thus demonstrating his in¬ difference and incurable stubbornness, was when Ahmad b. Abï Du’âd asked him: ‘Do you consider God the lord of the Koran?’ ‘If I had heard anyone say so, I would say so also.’ ‘Have you never heard it in an oath or a question, on the lips of a stump orator, or in verses or hadiths*T The Caliph saw that he was as untruthful as he was stubborn in the face of irrefutable arguments. Ahmad b. Abï Du’âd was too skilled at this sort of dialectic, and other methods also, to suppose that he could make these questions a main issue in the hearing; he merely wished [152] to bring out the insolence of the man’s lies, just as he had exposed the shamelessness of his obstinacy. It was at this point that the Caliph struck him. He maintained on that day that the word of God is like His learning:

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just as it is impossible to accept that His learning is created, so it is impossible to accept that His word is. Ahmad b. Ab! Du’àd said to him: ‘Is it not true that God can substitute one verse for another, or withdraw this Koran and put another in its place, seeing that all this is plainly written in the Koran?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And is the same thing possible with His learning? Can God amend it, or put another in its place?’ ‘No.’ ‘We have supported our argument by quoting traditions of the Prophet, by reciting verses from the Koran, and by showing you the rational proof that distinguishes truth from falsehood; now it is your turn to answer us in one of these three ways.’ But he could make no reply. Our friend said: ‘Mental reservation (taqiyya*) is permissible only when a Muslim is in infidel territory.’ If his statements about the creation of the Koran are the result of his using mental reservation, then he has practised it in the territory of Islam, and has been dis¬ honest with himself. Conversely, if what he says is what he really thinks, then you no longer have anything in common with him, and he is not one of you. Jâhiz next deals with Ahmad b. Abi Du’àd’s question about the ‘lord’ of the Koran, and exposes his opponents (i.e. the Hanbalites, though he does not name them) as brazen liars. He then surveys and controverts their arguments based on the fact that the majority of scholars, ascetics, etc., are on their side.

VI

CONCERNING THE BOOK ON LEGAL OPINIONS

Jâhiz, who has written a book (now lost) on legal opinions, tells Ahmad b. Abï Du’àd about it, and sings his praises. Dedication of the book I have a book in which I have collated divergent views on the principles (usül*) underlying legal opinions, which lead to differences in furu* and result in differences in the rulings. I have included, in addition to the cases, the whole of the proceedings. This book will only be complete and useful to the extent that it supports each pro¬ position with arguments not adduced (because they are incapable of them) by the jurists who propounded the opinions; it must not merely lift the corner of the veil of falsehood, but lay it bare and expose it . . . Although I am pleased with this book, I am not sure that I am right to look upon it as a father looks upon his son or a poet upon his poetry. I have been led to write it, despite my feelings of anxiety and awe at the thought that you are going to peruse it, by my certainty

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that your aim and object is to have learned men around you and not fools. I have other books, but hesitate to offer them to you all at once only because I know how busy and preoccupied you are, by night as well as by day. For though learning be the life-blood of the mind, as the mind is of the soul and the soul is of the body, yet it is like water and food: in excess it is harmful. Food and drink are whole¬ some in small quantities only, and it is the same with learning . . . We shall send you the books one after another. They are not—■ God be praised—concerned with sudden mutation (tafia) and in¬ terpretation, nor yet with essence and substance; contrariwise, they are all devoted to the Koran and the Sunna, and the whole com¬ munity has great need of them. Then we shall ask those who have told us of your surpassing merit to bring us to you and enrol us among the colleagues who sit at your feet and study with you.

VII

CONCERNING ANTFIROPOMORPHISM

This risâla*, addressed to Muhammad b. Ahmad b. Abï Bu’ad*, tells him of the writing of a book against the anthropomorphists. The author expresses various views on the common people, complains of the treat¬ ment meted out to the nmtakallimün*, who have now, thanks to Ahmad b. Abï Du’àd*, been brought under the protection of the authorities, and comes to the point of his letter. Importance of refuting the anthropomorphists [287] . . . You know that although the supporters of anthropo¬ morphism have been crushed, reduced and subjected to the in¬ quisition, their numbers have not decreased, the majority have not changed their views, and only a tiny minority are dead. There is no advantage to be gained from the hypocrites among them, nor can we count on the suspects or put any trust in the waverers. Though their arrogance is less, their hearts are more tainted than ever. Time was when they relied on power, strength, numbers and good fortune, on the allegiance of ruffians and the dregs of the populace; today, having failed to maintain their powerful position with the support of the rabble and of labourers, merchants and disaffected officials, they have become more amenable and open to argument; their hearts are full and their souls troubled. This is a situation in which cunning and persuasion are called for, since force and violence are ineffectual. .. My reason for wishing to move against them is that they have started to debate with us and challenge our friends, after insulting us, 5

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to pay great deference to us after forbidding us to speak, to sit with us after turning us a deaf ear, to listen to us after abusing us . . . I have therefore written a book in refutation of the anthropomorphists which will be neither beneath the notice of [288] scholars and educated men nor above the heads of tyros. One of the main resources of the anthropomorphists is strained interpre¬ tations of the Koran and tradition, and this the author exposes in the book in question. He asks Muhammad to read it and give it a wide circulation; he declares that it is everyone’s duty to help the authorities with advice; he sings the recipient’s praises by means of examples drawn from history, for Muhammad is still very young; and finally he explains why he writes to him and not to his father.

VIII DRINK AND THE DRINKER Jàhiz is presumably replying to a correspondent who is fond of wine and has asked him for an account of the various fermented drinks: he is to put the arguments for and against them, explain the difference between the various vintages, and say who favoured and who avoided them in the ancient world. Using his correspondent’s own terms, he gives a glowing account of the beneficial mental and physical effects of these beverages, at the same time enumerating their drawbacks. Then he compares wine with nabidh* (supposedly date wine). 1. Lawfulness of nabidh [282] Suppose we are asked: How do you know? It may be that nabidh* falls within the prohibition on wine, but that since this origin¬ ally applied only to wine proper, people supposed that that was all that was strictly unlawful, and that other liquors were oply volun¬ tarily included? We reply: We know that this is the opposite of our correspondent’s view, for good and obvious reasons. First the Com¬ panions of the Prophet, who witnessed the revelation of the precepts of the faith, and after them the ‘Descendants’ (TâbVün*), all agreed that a man who falsely accuses married women deserves to be punished; but they disagreed about alcoholic beverages, not because they did not know the names and ingredients of wine, but because as regards the traditions quoted about the lawfulness or otherwise of these drinks {ashriba)—even if for Arabic speakers all ashriba were wine—they did not need to ask the transmitters of the traditions which drinks they applied to, any more than they needed to ask the difference between male and female slaves. To go into all the ques¬ tions and answers implicit in this subject would be a lengthy business Those who disagree with us about the lawfulness of nabidh*, while

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recognizing that the names, ingredients and origins of many in¬ toxicating liquors are still known today, do not deny that God singled out wine for prohibition from among them all, leaving the others free like everything else that is lawful. The proof of this is that God has never forbidden men anything without allowing them a re¬ lated category with roughly the same effect, in order that by the use of that which is lawful they may be enabled to do without the unlawful (I am speaking here of traditional prohibitions, not commonsense ones). For instance, he forbade spilt blood, but not blood which is not spilt, such as clotted blood in the liver, spleen, etc. The people of Medina all agree in regarding alcoholic drinks as for¬ bidden, but 2. Medina has no monopoly on the truth [283] ... I reply: The pre-eminence of a town makes nothing lawful or unlawful; these things are known only from the eloquent Book and the acknowledged Sunna*, from authentic traditions and specific tests. Who, after all, is this Emigrant (Muhâjir*) or member of the Ansâr* on whose authority the unlawfulness of nabidh* is reported? If he were a fair opponent, he would acknowledge that the people of Medina who prohibit nabidh* are no more virtuous than those who condone certain abnormal sexual practices—just as some Meccans regard the lending of wives as lawful, and others regard animals slaughtered by Negroes as unlawful because, they say, they are too ugly, while some Meccan judges pass sentence on the strength of a single witness or a single oath, contrary to the letter of the Revelation. The Meccans, who inflict a scourging for a slight smell [of wine], impose the same penalty for carrying an empty skin, because they reckon it a receptacle [capable of containing] wine; so that an opponent of theirs once asked: ‘Why do they not scourge themselves, seeing that every man carries with him the instrument of fornication?’ On that argument anyone who carries a sword, a dagger or a strong poison should be convicted, for they are instruments of crime. Again, the men of Medina have not divested themselves of human nature and put on the virtues of angels. If all they say were right and true, they would have scourged all the people who went to listen to Ma'bad*, al-Gharid* [and other musicians and singers, and also some fuqaha’*] and a group of‘Descendants’ and elders, because the latter were supposed to have drunk nabidh*—which the people of Medina class with wine—while the former sang lawful, permitted songs and accompanied themselves on the lute, guitar, flute, cymbals and other instruments that are neither unlawful nor forbidden.

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IX

JUSTIFICATION OF NABlDH

Jâhiz writes to al-IJasan b. Wahb to ask him for some nabidh*; after some friendly banter, he develops his ideas about 1. The effects of nabidh* [288] ... I shall tell you of the nobility of nabidh* and its superiority to other [alcoholic] drinks, then I shall similarly demonstrate the superiority of your nabidh* to all others. When nabidh* soaks into your bones, spreads to every organ and suffuses into your brain, it clarifies your mind, redeems your spirit [from care], relaxes you in body and soul, and makes you carefree, gay, tolerant, optimistic and good-humoured. It closes the door to suspicion and makes you understand everything and see everything in a favourable light. It liberates you from the bother of being on your guard, from carking anxiety, from fear of the future, from base covetousness and from the tediousness of thinking about earning your living—in a word, from everything that hampers gladness, disturbs pleasure, weakens desire or mars happiness. It gives old men the fire of youth and young men the exuberance of childhood. The only danger, when drinking it, is of going beyond the gay stage to the excitable or even the irritable stage. If its sole benefit were that as it seeps into your soul and mingles with your blood it absolves you from trouble and effort, makes you appreciate jesting and wit and abhor all earnestness, relieves you of the complication of bashfulness and the trammel of dignity, affords you a day of rest with an eye to days of thought that lie ahead [289], and facilitates your return to more serious things, that alone would be sufficient grounds for being grateful to it and giving it a good charac¬ ter. 2. Al-Hasan b. Wahb's nabidh* [291] . . . Always good, in your house this drink is still better; to serve it is always noble, but in your case still nobler. If you suppose that I ask you for some in order to drink, serve or sniff it privately, to pass it round in society, to make show of it among my equals, to test the heads of my cronies, to lavish it on my guests or to put it within reach of my friends, you have a poor opinion of me indeed; and that ill judgment leads you to underrate it in many ways and do it great injustice. But if you suppose that I wish for some in order to gratify a woman, to win the friendship of a great man, to wash the impurities from my entrails, to pay the respect due to [alcoholic] drink, to clear my bleary eyes and heal unwholesome bodies, or to be host to a fine poet, an eloquent orator or a great man of letters, so

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that it may give them inspiration and ideas and lead them [to express] the gratitude they feel and the thanks they owe, [if you suppose that I wish for some] to draw a blessing from it, to soak myself in its benign influence, enjoy its presence, quench a thirst or make from it the elixir of life, or to think of you when I look at it . . ., then you have judged me aright.

DEFENCE OF THE 'ABBÂSIDS AGAINST THEIR OPPONENTS X

THE ' ABBÀSIDS The Prophet's estate

[300] . . . Some say that the fact of the Companions of the Prophet not having blamed Abü Bakr* and 'Umar* for depriving [Fatima*] of her father’s estate is proof that they acted righteously. The answer to this is: If it were so, then the fact that they also did not blame those who protested against it and sued [the two caliphs] to enforce their claims is proof that their cause was just and their arguments valid ... [301] ... The least that should have been done was to point out to Fatima what she did not know, remind her of what she had forgotten, save her from error, raise her above abuse and prevent her from stooping to insults, accusing an upright man and falling out with a friend ... We may be asked: How can you hold that Abü Bakr treated her unfairly and behaved unreasonably towards her, seeing that the ruder she was to him the gentler and more benign he became? When she said T swear I will never speak to you again,’ he replied T swear I will never desert you.’ She said T curse you,’ and he answered ‘And I bless you.’ He tolerated this rudeness and abuse, moreover, in the very caliph’s palace, in front of the Quraishites* and the Companions of the Prophet, and at a time when the caliphate stood in need of prestige, dignity, respect and awe. Then despite her behaviour Abü Bakr spoke apologetically and conciliatorily to her, indicating that he acknowledged her rights, deferred to her rank and respected her position, whilst at the same time having compassion on her: ‘No one is dearer to me than you, in poverty as in wealth, but I heard the Prophet say: ‘We prophets do not leave our estates to our heirs; our possessions must be distributed as alms’.’ Our answer is: That is no proof that Abü Bakr is innocent of in¬ justice and pure of all iniquity. Indeed, the trickery of tyrants and the cunning of sly litigants often takes the form of appearing down¬ trodden and acting the part of one oppressed . . . How can you say that absence of criticism amounts to a decisive proof or an obvious

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defence, when you hold that 'Umar said from atop the pulpit: ‘In die days of the Prophet there were two kinds of temporary marriage [302], mudat al-nisa’* and that of the pilgrimage. I forbid and shall punish both of them.’ No one reproached him for these words or took him to task for this prohibition; no one considered him to be in error, or showed surprise at his attitude, or questioned him on the matter. Others may say: The proof of the righteousness of their words and the justice of their deeds is that the Companions did not unseat them or revolt against them, whereas they set upon 'Uthmân for a fault slighter than the rejection of revealed texts. If it were as you say, the community would have dealt with them as it dealt with 'Uthmân: and he was more powerful, nobler, better supported, richer and stronger militarily. Our answer is: They did not reject the Revelation, nor betray the texts; but being fully acquainted with the matter of the [Prophet’s] estate and the literal provisions of revealed law, they insisted on relying on traditions, adduced a hadith whose existence is neither impossible nor absurdly contrary to reason, and called as witnesses people who agreed with their views. Some of them may have been prejudiced in his favour on the grounds that a man ought to be trusted . . . Many others were not acquainted with the true argu¬ ments, with the clear evidence that alone makes it possible to judge the unknown: to many of them this was not plain. That is why [303] there were few criticisms; everyone waited for someone else, and the matter became confused, so that only mature scholars and en¬ lightened mentors could tell truth from falsehood. Again, 'Uthmân did not enjoy the affection and respect of the crowd and the rabble to the same extent as Abü Bakr and 'Umar; and the latter were not so prone as he to appropriate the spoils and reserve the best part of God’s property for themselves. It is in men’s nature to forget the government so long as it assures the safety of their possessions, does not collect land tax, and does not neglect the frontier area. Moreover when Abü Bakr denied the Prophet’s rel¬ atives their share and his paternal uncles their legacy, he was at one with the élite of the Quraish* and the Arab chieftains. Again, 'Uthmân was weak, did not live up to his station, prevented no injustice and repulsed no enemies. He allowed himself to be heaped with insults, opprobrium, criticism and reproaches for faults so [venial] that if Abü Bakr had committed ten times as many no one would have dared to mention it behind his back, let alone to his face . . . There is a strange thing about those who disagree with us about

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the Prophet’s estate. On other subjects on which they differ, such as anthropomorphism, determinism and the divine threat, they take account of hadiths* of their opponents that are closely linked in isnâd*, based on sounder authorities and with better continuity of transmission; but when they come to the Prophet’s estate, they cease to take account of the Book, and interpret the general tradition in a sense very close to that which they have rejected as false in their opponents. They are guided solely by their own desires, and accept whatever fits in with their own wishes.

XI

SUPERIORITY OF THE BANU HÀSHIM TO THE 'ABD SHAMS

The author observes that the privileges enjoyed by the Quraishites before the advent of Islam were shared by several other tribes, but not by the 'Abd Shams, and that most of them passed to the Hàshimites. He then points out that Hâshim is a surname that reflects honour on its bearer, while the 'Abd Shams can claim no great exploits. Finally, the latter have only two famous forbears, 'Abd Manàf and Umayya b. 'Abd Shams, whereas the Hàshimites owe their celebrity to Hâshim, his father 'Abd Manàf and his son 'Abd al-Muttalib. 1. Nobility of the Hàshimites* [70] We do not gainsay that 'Abd Shams* was himself noble, but there are degrees of nobility; and God gave 'Abd al-Muttalib* during his lifetime such privileges, enabled him to perform such deeds of valour, and showed him such generosity, that the like could be found only in a prophet sent by God. His words to Abraha, the elephant man, his threat to him invoking the Lord of the Ka'ba*, God’s fulfilment of his word, the substance given to his threat by the stopping of the elephant, the slaughter of Abraha’s companions by the abâbïl* birds and the sijjil* stones, so that they were left like a field of corn ravaged by wild beasts—all that is the most wonderful of miracles and the most prodigious of signs. But all that was only preparing the way for Muhammad’s prophethood and laying the foundations for the miracles that God was to work through him; so that, with this glory coming before him and being reflected on him, he might win greater renown in the world, inspire greater respect in the kings of Egypt, Rüm* and Persia, conquer his stubborn enemies the more easily, and lay bare the foolishness of the ignorant. Again, who can be likened to or vie with the men who begat Muhammad*? If we leave aside the prophethood which God was graciously pleased to assign to him, and confine ourselves to his

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moral qualities, his precepts of conduct and his noble virtues, it is clear that no other human being can equal him or measure up to him. It would be easy enough to enumerate the glorious miracles that God worked through 'Abd al-Muttalib, as when he made springs of water gush out under his camel’s hooves, in the desert . . . But we would rather argue with you using only the Koran and the ancient poems familiar to the élite, the people and the transmitters of his¬ torical and religious traditions. In addition to the story of the elephant, the following words from the Koran are to be noted: ‘Because of the pact made by the Quraish’1. Now all sources agree that the first to conclude the ïlâf* on behalf of the Quraish was Hâshim b. 'Abd Manàf*. On his death his place was taken by his brother 'Abd al-Muttalib, who was succeeded by 'Abd Shams and then by Naufal, the youngest of them. This is what ïlâf is: Hâshim used to travel a great deal in order to trade: in winter he went to the Yemen, in summer to Syria. His partners in the enterprise were the chieftains of the Arab tribes and kings such as the 'Abâhila* in the Yemen and the rulers of Axum in Ethiopia and of Byzantium in Syria: he paid them a portion of his profit, and drove camels for them together with his own, thus saving them expense, in return for the protection against his enemies which they afforded him in both directions. In this way both sides benefited: [71] the one made a profit without stirring from home, the other was protected on its journeying. Thanks to this system the Quraishites prospered, entrusted their goods to Hâshim, made profits on every side, and achieved a flourish¬ ing and enviable state. Jàhiz then observes that the tribe of 'Abd Shams took no part in the conclusion of the famous Hilf al-Fudül, which he describes, at the same time singing the praises of al-Zubair b. 'Abd al-Muttalib. Then he recounts some of Hâshim’s exploits, and emphasizes that the glory of the Hâshimites is eternal, and that even Mu'âwiya acknowledges their superiority, 2. Umayyads and 'Abbâsids [76] ... If the Umayyads say: We have al-Walid*, son of Yazld*, son of 'Abd al-Malik*, son of Marwân*—four caliphs in a row—, we reply: The Banü Hâshim have Hârün al-Wâthiq*, son of Muhammad al-Mu'tasim*, son of Hârün al-Rashid*, son of Muhammad alMahdi*, son of 'Abd Allâh al-Mansür*, son of Muhammad called al-Kâmil*, son of 'All called al-Sajjâd* (who prostrated himself a thousand times a day; he was nicknamed ‘the prostrater’ because of his piety and virtue; he was the handsomest of 1 Koran, CVI, 1.

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all the Quraishites, and the noblest of countenance; he was born on the night that 'Alï b. Abï Talib* was murdered, and took his name and kunya from him . . .), son of 'Abd Allah* (the omniscient high priest of Quraish, who taught theology and exegesis), son of al'Abbâs (the most sagacious and forbearing of the Quraishites), son of Shaibat al-Hamd*, that is to say 'Abd al-Muttalib*, lord of the valley, son of 'Amr*, that is to say Hasliim* (who crumbled bread for the soup, and was nicknamed ‘the Moon’ because of his beauty and also because people navigated by him and took his advice), son of 'Abd Manàf*, son of Zaid* called Qusayy* or Mujammi'*. That makes thirteen lords not one of whom strayed from the right road, and each of whom attained perfection. Every one of them without exception took his name from a noble deed he performed, or from a good quality. All of them were or would have become caliphs, or were [77] in their time respected lords, notable ascetics, eminent jurists, men of manifest wisdom and forbearance. None can rival their glory. They included five consecutive caliphs, which is more than the Umayyads can claim. Moreover Marwàn* cannot be compared with al-Mansür*: the latter governed the empire, made conquests and kept the outermost parts of the realm in thrall for 22 years, whereas Marwan’s caliphate was very different: he was in power for a mere nine months, and was killed by his wife 'Atika* ... If Marwan is entitled to be called Caliph despite the shortness of his reign and the unrest and dissension that prevailed at the heart of the empire, to say nothing of the outlying areas, then Ibn al-Zubair has a better claim to the title; for he governed the whole Muslim world except for part of Jordan. Again, the reign of 'Abd al-Malik* and his sons, which followed Marwan’s, was continuous only in appearance, and con¬ cealed great inner weaknesses. The years of al-Mahdf s* reign were peaceful, whereas 'Abd al-Malik’s was a time of continual dissension and unrest; Yazld’s* cannot be compared with Hârün al-Rashïd’s*, or al-Walid’s* with al-Mu'tasim’s*. The Hâshimites* can argue that their dynasty has lasted longer (it has now run for 94 years); that they reign by hereditary right, the succession passing in the male line from uncle to nephew; that their rule is rooted in the prophethood; and that their claims are of a different order from those of the Marwânids*. Indeed, the Mar¬ wânids have no title to the Prophet’s estate, being unrelated to him; all that they can say is that they are of the Quraish, putting all Quraishites* on the same footing, whether from within or outside [Mecca], because the tradition that ‘imams must be Quraishites’ extends to the whole tribe. The qualifications needed for the caliphate are well known, and we are all familiar with the claims of the two

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sides; everyone has his own opinion on this problem. Some lay claim to the caliphate for 'Ali b. Abï Tâlib* on the grounds that he has [a triple qualification:] birth, seniority [of conversion] and the [pro¬ vision in the Prophet’s] will; at that rate neither Abü Sufyân’s* family nor Marwàn’s* have any claim to it at all. If the caliphate is exclusively hereditary, passing from uncle to nephew by agnatic succession, then again they have no claim to it. If accession to power is dependent on previous prowess, on glorious exploits and partici¬ pation in the Holy War, the Umayyads can put forward no real claim under this heading, nor any famous battles. [78] But even though they could put forward no record of past glory and no claim to the caliphate, their accession to the throne would have been less distressing and more bearable had there not been compelling reasons for their complete disqualification from it. We know of Abü Sufyân’s hostility to the Prophet, how he opposed him, stirred up the populace and mounted expeditions against him; and we also know the circum¬ stances of his conversion, and how sincere it was. He was converted at the hands of al-'Abbas*, and it was al-'Abbas who prevented the people from killing him. It was he who took him up behind him on the crupper, brought him to the Prophet, and asked the latter to honour, respect and praise him. The Hàshimites have good reason to complain of the way the Umayyads behaved to them. Moreover Marwan was a nonentity, and 'Abd alMalik is the sire of the most impious of the caliphs. In contradistinction to the Umayyads, the Hàshimites have known 90 years without an outbreak of plague; they have not destroyed the Ka'ba, altered the direction of prayer or placed God’s Messenger below the Caliph. The author continues, by means of quotations from poetry, to enumerate the factors that make the 'Abbasids manifestly superior to the Umayyads: number of descendants, righteousness of judgment, heroism and munifi¬ cence. As usual, Jâhiz first sets out the Umayyads’ claims (they pride themselves on their political acumen, their generosity, etc., and enumerate those who have brought honour on their house); and then the Hàshimites, through the medium of the author’s pen, take up these claims one by one in order to demolish them.

3. Mudwiyas* hilm* [104] ... As regards your reference to Mu'âwiya’s hilm, we could make all our great men models of hilm, and they would be worthy of it. But a man should be characterized only on the strength of truly noble deeds, exceptional virtues, or traits that so set him apart from his fellows as to become an integral part of his name, as al-Ahnaf*

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is known for his hilm or Hâtim* for his generosity . . . But you do your opponents an injustice if you link hilm with Mu'âwiya’s name, and still more with lesser men than he. For the Arabs say: ‘The outstanding feature of the two hilms is not to lose one’s temper and to be forbearing’, whereas there is no man on earth quicker-tempered than Mu'âwiya ... If you maintain that the traditions about his quick temper are all spurious, we are entitled to say that the tradi¬ tions you adduce about his hilm are also spurious . . . Now no tradition can be found to the effect that al-'Abbàs b. 'Abd alMuttalib* or al-Hasan b. 'All b. Abî Tâlib* ever uttered a rude or vul¬ gar word or any of the [coarse] expressions attributed to al-Ahnaf* and Mu'âwiya . . . Again, how can Hâshim* or 'Abd al-Muttalib* be characterized as forbearing without making mention of their other qualities and deeds? This would be to attribute one virtue to them and overlook others which also attain perfection. If a man is the most manifestly above worldly things, the staunchest in face of the enemy, the most upright, the most generous and the most eloquent, and is renowned for all these virtues, no one of them ought to be given pride of place above the others . . . The Umayyads reply in their turn, giving their reasons for regarding themselves as the equals of the 'Abbâsids; and the debate continues to the end of the text, which in any case is incomplete.

XII

AN ACCOUNT OF SHl'ITE DOCTRINE

After stating that the Shl'ites comprise only two organized sects, the Zaidites and the Râfidites, the author sets out the Zaidite view. Accord¬ ing to them, merit is acquired only by one’s actions, and is of four kinds: seniority of conversion to Islam, detachment from the world, religious knowledge and war service. A man who can claim all four must be acknowledged superior to all others; and if historians are consulted about this their advice is that 'Ali b. Abî Tâlib is the one who best fits the description. 1. The communitys attitude towards 'Ali [b. Abî Tâlib*] [243] Such are the grounds on which this sect, the Zaidites*, claim superiority and pre-eminence for 'All. They say, that is, that he was the worthiest to succeed to the caliphate; but they show less spite, ill will and hostility to the other [claimants than do some other sects]. For it must be said that the Arabs, and especially the Quraishites*, were deeply divided about 'All. Some of them had seen him kill their fathers, sons, brothers, cousins, friends, comrades, chieftains or

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heroes. They either adopted an attitude of open and undisguised hostility, avowing undying hatred and watching for an opportunity to avenge themselves, or [patiently] swallowed their anger and con¬ cealed their hatred, deeming it better tactics not to show their feelings but to treat their enemy with consideration. But they were only lying in wait for the slightest excuse, the first sign of opposition, protest, dissension or revolt among the people, to spring like lions or slink with the cunning of foxes to quench their thirst and allay the fire that consumed them. With the enemy in this frame of mind, there is no assurance that he will not be carried away by the heat of his anger or yield to the fiendish temptation to go over to the attack and slake his vengeance. Others resented 'All’s youth; their pride rejected the idea of being governed by one younger than themselves. Others again were con¬ scious of his severity, his lack of liberalism in religion and his un¬ couth ways. There were some also who were averse to the idea of the monarchy resting on the same pedestal and growing in the same soil as the prophethood; for this would have encouraged the Quraishites to make the monarchy the prerogative of their clans, particularly the Banü 'Abd Manàf and their close kin (the closer the kin, the nearer the neighbours and the more similar the calling, the keener the envy and the fiercer the wrath). Consequently their dearest wish was to remove the caliphate from that particular preserve, and thus free themselves from the affliction of wrath and the vexation of envy. Another category of 'All’s opponents consisted of anarchists and thugs who respected neither law nor religion. Some also were willing to submit to the imamate, but very few. It was then that the ridda, or mass apos¬ tasy, took place, and a split developed between Emigrants and Ansâr. 'All realized that he must stand aside and give way to Abü Bakr. Jâhiz then expounds the theory that man cannot be left to his own devices, and hence the 2. Need for an imam [247] . . . We know that it is only by rigorous training, by severe rebukes in this world and the threat of terrible punishment in the next, that men are enabled to resist their own worse natures . . . Barely able to obtain all that relates to their material existence, still less are they capable of understanding what befits their spiritual life. For spiritual understanding stems from worldly understanding; but whereas the latter is manifest, or nearly so, the former is occult, and is to be attained only through great virtue and unremitting effort, assisted by the teaching of the imams. Were men able of

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themselves to obtain all that relates to their material and spiritual life, there would be little point or advantage in God’s sending pro¬ phets. If men, using that which is manifest, preferring that which is lasting, seeking to better themselves, needing an adequate pittance and aware that therein lies salvation, cannot of themselves under¬ stand and arrange all this, though knowledge of these things is clear and manifest and their causes follow one from another . . . how much more will they be unable to distinguish ta'dll* from tajwïr*, to understand the importance of exegesis, the science of the transmission of traditions, and the foundations of the faith ... ? This being so, we appreciate that men need an imam to teach them what befits them, and we recognize three kinds of imam: messengers, prophets and imams [proper]. The messenger is both prophet and imam, the prophet is an imam but not a messenger, and the imam is neither messenger nor prophet . . . [248] . . . The messenger is the best of men, then come the prophet and the imam. The messenger prescribes the written law, organizes the religious community, and lays down men’s general line of conduct for them; for to start with human nature can cope only with generalities. XIII

REPLY ON THE IMAMATE

This text is closely linked to the preceding one. Jâhiz says that everybody is agreed on the need for a single government, but that some people favour the establishment of more than one imam. He concludes that 1. There must be but a single imam [250] We know that it is in men’s nature to flee when they expect something unpleasant, and to evade the enforcement of deserved penalties whenever they can. This is what causes general disorder and the non-enforcement of laws. We are commanded to remove the causes of disorder as far as possible, and to look after the common people to the best of our ability; and it is therefore our duty to estab¬ lish a single imam, since otherwise, as we have said, men are quick to evil when they have a mind to it and to flight when they are afraid. This is a fact confirmed by simple observation and shown by experience. The author reverts to the Prophet and his immediate succession. Then, after various considerations about divine justice, he adduces the public interest as an argument for the establishment of authority: just as men need guides and mentors, so they must have prophets and imams. But we say: It is not right that the government of Muslims accord¬ ing to the dictates of reason, firmness and prudence should be en-

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trusted to more than one person; for rulers and chieftains, when they are of comparable merit and have similar aims, are greatly tempted to try to gain the ascendancy, and their rivalry increases. This is what happens between near neighbours, between relatives and uncles, and between members of the same calling, as for instance theology, astronomy, medicine, the giving of legal opinions, poetry, grammar, prosody, trade, dyeing or agriculture: they know by experience that when they are of comparable merit and belong to closely related groups they have a great urge to try to gain the ascendancy, and are powerfully impelled by desire to outshine and take over command. The stronger their motives, the more their souls are prone to con¬ fusion; the more their strength falters, the less scope there is for mature reflection; and the more Satan lusts for dominion over them, the graver is the danger that threatens them and the closer they are to the fomenters of chaos. This being so, the best thing for rulers and chieftains—men’s souls, their motives and the nature of human behaviour being as we have said—is for all scope for envy and rivalry, all desire to outshine and gain the ascendancy, to be removed, so that harmony may reign and peace be assured at the heart of the empire and in the outlying provinces . . . This being so, we know that when the man responsible for guiding the affairs of Muslims is matchless and alone possesses perfect virtue his subjects have less cause to try to outstrip or even equal him. If God so designed the world and its inhabitants, if He made them such that they are better off with a single imam, it is so that the latter may exist when they want him and seek him; for it is only common sense that God cannot compel human beings to set up that which does not exist or to raise up that which they do not know. Man’s part is to submit to God, and God’s to give him the means to do so. 2. Portrait of the ideal imam [259] ... If we are asked: What is the image of the best? we reply: His most marked trait should be intelligence; his intellectual ability should go hand in hand with a lively intellectual curiosity and wide erudition, and these qualities should be associated with good habits. When learning is allied to intellect, energy to learning and decisive¬ ness to energy, there is no need [to look further]. It may happen that a man who in some respects falls short [of this ideal] is worthy of the office of imam and the rank of caliph, but he must be the best of his contemporaries. Respect for God’s Messenger requires that only men as like him as possible should in each age occupy the position he held. To put someone in his place who was unlike him and did not

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follow in his footsteps would be to insult his memory. The imam is like the Messenger only to the extent that he models his conduct on his. As for equalling him, that is impossible, and not within the bounds of hopes or prayers.

XIV SUPPORT FOR 'ALT OVER THE ARBITRATION BY TWO ARBITERS This piece is intended mainly to vindicate 'All’s action in submitting to arbitration at Siffin, and to demonstrate that Mu'âwiya had no title to the caliphate. The author makes no attempt to compare the two men.

1. Mu'âwiya and the caliphate [§ 13]. I do not deny that Mu'âwiya is noted for his intelligence, his hilm, his shrewdness, his understanding, his cunning, his decisiveness, his energy and his resolution, as well as his remarkable eloquence and profundity; nor that he was the copyist of the Revelation and the keeper of the public Treasury, that Abü Bakr* gave him command of his brother’s advance guard, that 'Umar* gave him charge of all the districts of Syria, and kept him in office until his death, that he in¬ curred his displeasure after giving him cause for satisfaction, or that 'Umar described for him the details of the office of cadi and of the judicial system, as he had written to Abü Müsà al-'Ash’ari* and his cadis in the cities and to the muftis in the provinces; [I do not deny] that 'Uthmân* confirmed him in the offices he had held under his predecessors, and established his integrity and honourable nature up to the hilt during the years of unity and the years of dissension. At the very least he must be [regarded as] a Muslim and not a fâsiq*, as a friend and not a foe, as an honest man and not a forger; for I am sure that caliphs did not appoint men to be in charge of the provinces and the lands of the Faithful, or give them high command, unless they were staunch, loyal and of sound judgment. [§ 14], But to be worthy of the caliphate and deserving of the imamate exceptional merit and accomplishment are needed. This merit must either be manifest and known to all Muslims, so that with one accord they raise up a man to be first among them, and spon¬ taneously appoint their ruler, not being under the threat of the sword or the sway of fear, nor under any apparent constraint or possibility of suspicion; or else it must have come to light as the result of careful discussion, consultation and deliberation on the part of the community.

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[§ 15]. But we have never met anyone who argued on Mu'âwiya’s behalf that he was any more than a man like other Muslims . . and the scribe of the Revelation. This latter duty was previously carried out by those whom you know . . and it has never been regarded as giving any title to the imamate . . . [§ 18]. There is no reason to extol Mu'âwiya for the circumstances that gave him his strength and brought him to power, for that good fortune he owes only to the murderers of 'Uthmân and those who, when the Syrians cried: ‘Give us 'Uthmàn’s murderers,’ replied: ‘We are all 'Uthmân’s murderers.’ Had 'Uthrnan not been assassina¬ ted, Mu'âwiya would not have been able to persuade the common people, the Syrian mob, the guileless, gullible Bedouins, that it was 'All* who had killed him (sic). 'Uthmàn’s assassination thus gave him an excuse to challenge the legitimate caliph; then defections in 'All’s ranks, due to his inflexible attitude, the doubt sowed in people’s minds by the incident of the copies of the Koran, and finally the choice of Abü Müsâ as one of the arbitra¬ tors—all these factors weakened the caliph’s position. The author seems to be at a loss to justify the choice of Abü Müsâ: the latter was not such a complete cipher as is generally supposed, and we cannot give credence to traditions suggesting that 'All yielded to pressure from the southern Arabs. Had this been so, the caliph’s cause would have been so vulner¬ able that success would have been within Mu'àwiya’s grasp, and he would not have needed to go to arbitration. 'All agreed to arbitration because he could neither give up 'Uthmàn’s murderers, as demanded by Mu'âwiya, nor refuse to do so without risking the direst results. It is impossible to believe that he lacked courage, or that his mental faculties were weakened, and his actions must therefore be ascribed to consum¬ mate shrewdness.

2. The shrewdness of'Ali [b. Abi Tâlib*] [§ 60]. In our view, 'All sought to extricate himself by means of ambivalent hints and something akin to hypnotic suggestion. He felt compelled to resort to cunning in the face of the mounting unrest and the disaffection, lack of understanding and desire for a respite [rife among his troops]. He thought that his exhortations, his ex¬ ample, his disquisitions and his threats would have a salutary effect on them, would infiltrate his soldiers’ hearts, rouse them from their lethargy and awaken their pride before the truce period was over. But in fact Mu'âwiya’s* trickery had worked; and having for so long concealed the malady, disguised the remedy and delayed the treat¬ ment, no hope now remained for him. When the malady grew worse 6

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and the crisis mounted, when the weaknesses appeared, when dis¬ affection was at its height and he was unable to hide it and powerless to conceal it, 'Alï went up into the pulpit to harangue his troops, pouring out a stream of reproofs and admonitions. He was convinced that he would be defeated if he sent his soldiers into battle, reluctant conscripts that they were, knowing nothing of the situation, divided and disunited . . . [§ 63]. Had 'Ali not believed and hoped that his men would re¬ cover their spirits and regain their original [bellicosity] once they had discussed the situation and passed the word round among them¬ selves, had had the pleasure of seeing their wives and homes again and grown weary of prolonged inactivity, and had felt a little ashamed of their good fortune, whilst he, 'Ali, was staunchly refusing to con¬ cede victory to the enemy and concerned about the fate that awaited his troops if they fell into the conqueror’s hands; had he not thought that they would perhaps of their own accord try to take the offensive once they were not secure from attack [by Mu'dwiya’s men], his attitude would not have been plausible or his conduct have made sense. It was Mu'dwiya who was tricked in this case, and 'Ali who was the trickster. 'Ali used cunning, while Mu'dwiya hesitated. If the latter had had an inkling of the increasing weakness of 'Ali’s position and had attacked him [with troops whose] hearts beat in unison and [whose] fervour was unanimous, nothing could have prevented his triumph, and that battle would have been the last. 'Ali realized that his best course was to let Mu'dwiya and his sup¬ porters think that he was willing to be put on a footing of equality, and that he acknowledged that their two situations were so similar that the matter needed to be submitted to human scrutiny ... I am continually surprised that Mu'dwiya should have agreed to this truce and interval, seeing that 'Ali’s ranks were manifestly rent by disunity; but I know some people who are surprised that 'Ali, whose supporters were disunited, agreed. Meanwhile Mu'dwiya’s power, much to be blamed though he was, continued to increase. Thus we come to the text of the agreement be¬ tween the two adversaries, providing for the arbitration. Jdhiz repro¬ duces the document, and vigorously denies its authenticity in 3. A lesson in textual criticism [§ 78]. I say that the text of the agreement is forged. It shows some features reminiscent of the vocabulary, style, purity of language and eloquence of the Arabs of the period—for their language and style

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are well known, so that if a modern writer tries to imitate them it is unmistakably obvious to an expert, at any rate in a long poem or an extensive discourse, or even in a letter or treatise; but forgery is harder to detect in a short poem or a few words. But this text contains inelegant, weak, frivolous and vulgar expressions, and passages suggesting ignorance of Arabic and of very poor quality. What makes it even more suspect is the variant versions up held by the Khârijites* and the Shi'ites*, and the additions and omissions made by the Syrians and the Iraqis, to say nothing of the weakness of its sources and the status of its transmitters in the eyes of the traditionists who have transmitted our religious and historical traditions and [the legal provisions] relating to the lawful and the unlawful. The earliest link in the chain is al-Zuhri* and the soundest authority Abü Ishâq*, for they were not contemporary with or present at the events in ques¬ tion. None of the transmitters who give the text on their authority has the reputation of being commendable, reliable or acceptable . . . [§ 79]. Moreover the identity of most of the witnesses quoted is doubtful, and their names variable; and they represent only a tiny minority of the great figures or upright influential men of the period. So the writer who uses the text is quite free to accept or reject it. Jàhiz next explains that ‘All, well aware that the Iraqis and Hejazis did not consider 'Amr b. al-'Às and Abü Müsà (the two named as arbiters) fit to carry out the arbitration, reserved the right to accept their decision if it was favourable to himself but to reject it if it was not. This was a very cunning move of his, which no one else, neither Mu'awiya, the Shi'ites nor the Khârijites, thought of. The author reverts to 'Uthman’s assassin¬ ation, and then proceeds to set out the arguments of Mu'âwiya’s support¬ ers, who regard him as more worthy of the caliphate than his rivals. 4. The arguments of Mu'awiya's supporters [§ 106]. Tell me this: what injustice did Mu'awiya* commit between the day that 'Umar* appointed him governor and the day that 'Uthmân* was assassinated? To whom was he unjust, and what was the nature of his wickedness ? Who has knowledge of it? Who is a wit¬ ness to it? If you say that his refusal to abdicate his office was wicked, and that this was why he was described as qàsit—an epithet later extended to all his followers—then we say this, in addition to the arguments already stated: we have never heard of any of your fuqahâ'* refusing the pensions that Mu'awiya paid them, or declining rewards from him, or deleting his name from their dïwâns*, or giving up buying slaves taken as booty by his officers on the borders of his governorate, nor yet denying themselves their share in the proceeds

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of booty sold, nor refraining from eating, buying or selling the fruits of his fiefs. The year in which al-Hasan* abdicated the caliphate to him was named ‘The year of reunion’. 'Abd al-Rahmàn b. Samura*, one of the greatest of the Companions of the Prophet, handed over to him some funds he had withheld in 'All’s lifetime, saying T collec¬ ted this money under unity, and only under unity am I willing to pay it in.’ [§ 107], The arguments put forward by his adherents in support of his right to the caliphate and his title to the imamate include the following: ‘[The governorate of Syria], he said, is a post to which 'Umar b. al-Khattâb* appointed me, and from the day he installed me in office he never displaced me, though he was never slow to un¬ seat and disgrace his high officials for some misdeed of theirs, and sometimes even had them brought before him [under escort]. I have never incurred his wrath since the day he vouchsafed me his favour; he has never dismissed me since he first appointed me. He later gave me charge of all the districts of Syria, whereas at first I had only one, and reinforced my rule and strengthened my authority. 'Uthmân confirmed, emphasized, reinforced and reaffirmed these dispositions: he showed me no more favour during the years of discord than during the years of unity.’ ‘Then you [, 'All,] ordered me to resign, when I had done nothing wrong, though you did not accede to the caliphate as the result of consultation and election, as 'Uthmân did. The latter did not ex¬ plicitly nominate you, as Abü Bakr* did 'Umar; and the community was not unanimous in its choice of you, as it was in the case of Abü Bakr. So when you contended against me to take from me what I held, I was not bound to give up to you during the period of disunity a jewel that I had received from authorized hands during the period of unity. If you fight against me to take from me what I hold, I will frustrate you; if you leave me [alone], I will hand it over to a person comparable with him who entrusted it to me; but I am en¬ titled to deny it to you by force of arms if you take arms against me, and to withhold it from you by argument if you claim it from me by argument.’ [§ 108]. According to you, Mu'âwiya’s supporters add that he said: ‘Suppose this jewel, which has fallen into my hands and over which I have acquired a right of possession, were lost property; and suppose it were claimed from me by someone who could not satisfy me as to his title to it, either by proof positive or by the sort of marks used to establish the ownership of lost objects: when I refuse to give it to you, I am abiding by what is right, and when you claim it from me, you are falling into injustice. If you contend against me I shall

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fight back in defence of my rights; if not, I shall wait until the rightful owner comes to claim it. . [§ 109]. You add that according to his adherents Mu'âwiya said: ‘My imam and my caliph has been unjustly slain; my cousin and my benefactor has been deserted by all and assassinated. Then during a period of revolt and discord I saw his murderer and those who had violated holy things placed in a privileged position, while his avengers, my family and kin, were weak. If I seek out the guilty ones and imprison them until an imam is established who will judge them . . ., I shall be doing my duty by religion, morality, loyalty and friendship . . . How then should I be doing right and winning ap¬ proval if I failed to pursue them . . ., seeing that the murderers are known, and their whereabouts common knowledge? If anyone pre¬ vents me from laying hold of them, he will be unjust ... If anyone prevents me by force from seizing these murderers, I will use force against him. Were he who did this reckoned a just man, his pre¬ tension to justice would be at an end and his reputation as judicial be undone; for the imamate is open only to a just man, and will not be entrusted to one who had a hand in 'Uthmân’s murder, or helped to kill a Muslim, or prevented an avenger from laying hold of his kinsman’s murderer.’ In his usual way, Jâhiz now proceeds to refute these arguments. 5. Refutation [§ 120]. The first point I wish to make is that Mu'âwiya* never put forward these arguments, and no one in his lifetime put them forward on his behalf; they were not mentioned or even thought of. Some were invented by dialecticians hostile to 'All*, or by those who insult the accursed extreme Shi'ites*. Others were deliberately supplied to our opponents by our friends, with the aim of leading them on to pursue their line of argument, providing them with the necessary material, and giving them confidence, as they commonly do to con¬ trovert their opponents’ doctrines and overthrow the claims of all contradicters. Others again came to my mind after I started to speak of these people: for I was determined to seek out everything that could militate in their favour, so that you might appreciate their strength and their enemies’ impotence, and realize that a man who understands his opponent’s arguments better than he himself does is in a better position to select his own arguments, can go deeper into the various aspects of his case, and is better equipped to reach his goal; in this way he discourages his enemy and encourages his

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friend; finally, so that you might know that if your friends had not found surplus strength in themselves they could not have lent any to their enemies; and so that no doubt might remain in the reader’s mind when he had finished reading this book. [§ 121]. If Mu'âwiya had used these arguments, or if anyone else had put any of them forward at the time, the fact would be familiar to traditionists and transmitters renowned for their veracity. [§ 123]. You will undoubtedly know that these are not the methods of ruwât*, but of dialecticians acting simultaneously as ruwât. You have heard Mu'âwiya’s speeches and letters, and the text of the agreement: do you really think it likely that he could have had even a part of these arguments at his disposal and not have used them in his speeches, propagated them, and offered them to his followers for acceptance? On the contrary, he would have lost no time in entering them in a book which would have been read to his troops every Monday and Thursday! I do not deny that Mu'âwiya was intelligent, profound and sagacious; but even if his subtlety of mind had been put together with that of 'Amr b. al-'Às*, al-Mughira b. Shu'ba*, Ziyâd*, al-Ahnaf*, al-Muhallab* and ten times as many others, they would not have been able to grasp the first thing about these [argu¬ ments] without using dialectic, even if they had set about learning arithmetic, geometry, music, medicine and all the sciences; they would not have been able to achieve a sound understanding of them without much research and reading, prolonged study of books, and disputations with learned men. No doubt they were more capable of it than many who are classed as research workers and logical thinkers; but believe me, they understood nothing whatsoever about all that. Jàhiz concludes from these remarks that the arguments of Mu'âwiya’s supporters cannot be considered as establishing his title to the caliphate; but the end of the book is lost.

XV

THE 'UTHMÂNIYYA

The majority view is that Abü Bakr was the worthiest candidate for the caliphate on the Prophet’s death. The first argument in his favour is that 'Ali was very young when he was converted, and could not tell a true prophet from a false; no one ever claimed for him that he was an infant prodigy, and it is impossible that he should have understood the Pro¬ phet’s mission. Besides, 'Ali was not the first to be converted: earlier and more meritorious conversions must be taken into account, and Abü Bakr’s has been compared with these.

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1. Abü Bakr's conversion [24] . . . Abü Bakr’s* conversion is clearly more meritorious than Zaid’s* or Khabbâb’s*; for Zaid had not made himself a name as a scholar, and was not sought after or the centre of a circle of friends, and the same was true of Khabbàb. Abü Bakr, on the other hand, was the most learned of the Arabs on the subject of the Arabs, their glories and disgraces, their virtues and failings . . . [25] Apart from his understanding of humanity and his wide learning, Abü Bakr was wealthy and respected; he had a substantial business, and was hand¬ some, with a fine presence, popular, sought after, loved and culti¬ vated; he entertained lavishly, and helped [members of his tribe] with the payment of blood-money. The worthies of Mecca used to meet at his house to enjoy the pleasure of his conversation and his re¬ markable knowledge of poetry ... He would choose the topic of conversation, and detain his guests by plying them with honey, raisins [26] and milk . . . There is little in common between the conversion of a rich man on the one hand, who sacrifices the best part of his wealth, sees his influence dwindle and his bosom friends desert him, forgoes the power of wealth and the pleasure of having many friends, and lapses into mortifying loneliness and miserable poverty, and that of a dull, useless wretch, a seeker rather than a bestower of friendship and favour, on the other. Indeed, the worst misery that can befall a nobleman is to be reviled after being respected, struck at after being held in awe, and penniless after being well off. The conversion of a cultured, refined, sagacious scholar is in no way comparable with that of another man . . . Nor is the conversion of a man who under¬ takes the provision of money and supplies to be compared with that of a wretch who both before and after his conversion was a burden on the community. [27] Nor yet can the conversion of a wise, mature man, considered by the Quraishites* a fit and proper object of prosecution and competent to give satisfaction, be compared with that of a callow youth, unworthy of the hostility of the élite and exempt from punishment by the elders. Another argument is based on the ordeal that Abü Bakr underwent in protecting the Prophet, and his achievements over 13 years: the building of a mosque, the enfranchisement of slaves (particularly that of Bilâl, the Prophet’s muezzin), much proselytizing and the outlay of vast sums of money. All this leads to the conclusion that his merit was greater than 'All’s, whose main claims were his having slept in the Prophet’s bed when the latter went to Medina, and having shared in the fighting.

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2. The image of a military leader and the psychology of the soldier [45]. If slaying great numbers of the enemy and charging repeatedly with drawn sword were the severest of ordeals and the most thankless of tasks, if this were the best criterion of fitness for command, then 'Ali*, al-Zubair, etc., would have to be considered more deserving than the Prophet and more exposed to suffering and misery [46], for Muhammad* only killed one man with his own hand. Yet we know that in fact no one endured more painful ordeals or acquired more merit than he did. There are warriors who slay enemy knights and champions, and yet cannot look in the eyes a man in their own army who has killed nobody but who wields authority for reasons more compelling to the soldiery than that of attacking and killing an enemy warrior. If it is accepted that a general and his officers have a right to command, and deserve their high rank, not having merely promoted themselves to it, it is also clear that killing the enemy is not a mark of fitness for command. Surely you realize that a commander has anxieties, worries, cares and problems that others are spared, seeing that it is he who has the responsibility, he who is the hub of the whole operation, to him that his soldiers look for protection, in his name that the enemy is put to flight, and through his tactics, ability and knowledge that the enemy line is broken; for failure or weakness in him is worse and more shameful than in another. Once it is accepted that his troubles and trials lie only in this, that if all his men [47] are lost and he alone survives the defeat will be laid at his door alone and he alone will be held responsible and be subjected to humiliation and contempt, that is proof enough. It is for these and similar reasons that the commander is more sorely troubled and tried; compared with him, what an ordinary soldier suffers simply does not count at all. To confront an enemy champion at sword point is a difficult and meritorious act, but less so than the ignorant suppose. If it were as they imagine, the [soldier’s] heart would rebel and shrink from the fray. A soul endowed with ‘capacity’ and free will who regards battle as a sacred duty and running away as a sin [is actuated by motives] balanced like the two pans on the beam of a pair of scales. Were there not something of equal weight on the opposite side to counterbalance the unpleasantness of going into battle, the soul would choose inaction rather than action. But when the soldier faces the enemy, he is imbued with motives that give him valour and cour-

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age, even though these motives may be hidden from view and all that is visible is the outward appearance of bravery. Courage can be in¬ spired by anger, drink (sic), stupidity, inexperience or youth; it may be due to bloodthirstiness, jealousy, chauvinism or ambition, or to qualities such as hardheartedness or clemency, generosity or meanness, dislike of the lash [48] or resignation. It may also be pro¬ duced by religion, but a man impelled solely by religious feelings will not go into battle: he needs to be actuated also by one of the motives mentioned above. Religion is acquired and external, not original and natural, and its reward is in the future; whereas the motives afore¬ mentioned are natural and innate, and their penalty is immediate. The man may be imbued with motives of prudence and cowardice, for inertia and inactivity are natural tendencies which he cannot resist. It may happen that the competing motives of courage and cowardice are balanced; in that event, action or inaction are a matter of choice. It may also happen that the reasons for exhibiting courage are the stronger, and then the soldier goes into battle with a light heart, naturally and of his own accord; but in that case he is not ful¬ filling a sacred duty, even though some may think he is. Similarly, if a man is so ruled by cowardice that running away is a natural re¬ action for him, that is not a sin, even though some may think it is . . . When a man goes fearlessly into battle because his positive mo¬ tives outweigh his tendency to pacifism and cowardice, he does not receive a reward from God, even though it might seem that he should. [49]. When positive and negative motives are evenly balanced, the individual merely obeys his orders, and this is less heroic than people suppose; they allow for the unpleasantness he endures when con¬ fronting an enemy champion, but not for all the motives that make it possible for him to behave so bravely. Moreover 'All deserves little merit, since the Prophet promised him that he would live through it. Abü Bakr, however, deserves nearly as much as Muhammad, for he emigrated with him and acted as his adviser at Badr. Besides, 'All’s role has been over-emphasized: his supporters claim that what prevented his nomination to the caliphate was the number of enemies he had made among Muslims, by killing a brother here and an uncle there (see XII, 1 above). The author discusses this argument, then lists other points in Abü Bakr’s favour, including some facts bearing on the closeness of bis relations with the Prophet. He compares 'All with other personalities, and discusses the distinction in the field of fiqh which his supporters attribute to him. Then he recounts all Abü Bakr’s deeds, mentioning also a reference to him in the Koran; and this brings him to the question of the texts supposedly favourable to 'All.

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3. Does the Koran contain a verse in support of 'All? [115] . . . Extreme Shl'ites claim that God revealed several verses concerning 'All*, notably the following: ‘Obey God, obey God’s Messenger and those in authority amongst you,’1 in which ‘those in authority’ means 'All and his descendants. By my life, if traditionists are agreed that this verse refers to 'All and his descendants, then we must accept it; but if it is spurious, transmitted on weak authority, it is not only weak but exceptional, and you cannot count it in your favour. A hadith* can emanate from a single reliable source and be transmitted on equally sound authority, and still be ‘exceptional’ unless it is widely known and a matter of common knowledge. A hadith* can be transmitted by two or three persons regarded by traditionists as weak authorities, and in that case it is weak by reason of the weakness of its transmitters; but it cannot be described as ‘exceptional’ when it is transmitted by three authorities. [116] The only sure proof lies in hadiths so transmitted that deliberate forgery or conspiracy to forgery can be ruled out. These are the accepted traditions. But a tradition receives the seal of acceptance not merely because of the number and reliability of its transmitters, but because it has been transmitted by a number of authorities whose motives and propensities are so different that they could not possibly have con¬ spired together to utter a forged hadith. The compiler must next satisfy himself that these different authorities transmitted the tradition through an equal number of transmitters of equally different motives and propensities. If then the final version corre¬ sponds to the original, conviction is inescapable and doubt and suspicion are excluded . . . Turning to the claim that in the verse ‘Obey, etc.’ God was re¬ ferring to 'Alt to the exclusion of all the Emigrants, the hadith on which this interpretation rests does not fulfil these conditions or fit this description. Indeed, the commentators suggest that it refers rather to the Prophet’s officers and governors, to Muslims in general, or to the leaders of expeditions . . . and that it is an injunction to the people to obey the commanders of the army and submit to the civil administration. The author similarly discusses the other verses held to refer to 'Ali. Then he reviews other points in Abü Bakr’s favour, stressing the fact that he is alone in having received a laudatory epithet inseparable from his name (al-Siddiq). Next he discusses beliefs about 'All’s miraculous 1 Koran, IV, 62/59.

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powers, particularly the hadith often advanced by his supporters: ‘You bear the same relation to me that Aaron did to Moses.’ Then he quotes historical traditions to controvert accusations against Abü Bakr, par¬ ticularly that he was not acceptable to the whole of the community. He rejects the interpretation placed on the Persian words spoken by Salman, and deals with generalized apostasy (ridda) and

4. The situation on the Prophet's death [196] ... As regards the saying you quote of Abü Bakr’s*: ‘My election was hustled through,’ and 'Umar’s* : ‘Abü Bakr’s election was hustled through; may God preserve us from its dire conse¬ quences,’ the matter is plain and the arguments about it straight¬ forward. On the Prophet’s death, Muslims were divided into distinct cate¬ gories. Some were well-informed believers, true to God and His Prophet. Others had submitted, but knew nothing of the imamate, the reasons for its establishment or the dissolution. Others again were more highly placed than Abü Bakr in the tribe of Quraish*, but were concerned less with the interests of Muslims in general than with having the imam chosen from a tribe as close as possible to their own, thus winning nobility and celebrity for their clan and themselves. Others enjoyed ties of kinship [with the Prophet], which gave them exemption from learning and good works. Others again were powerful but weak in faith, or had light purses [197] but great am¬ bitions; indifferent to peace and concord, they did not scruple to fan the flames of revolt and rouse the rabble, seeing in unrest their best opportunity to advance their cause, emerge from obscurity and isolation and win nobility and popularity. Others had embraced Islam with the ardour of the new convert, but without any real understanding or deep conviction. Others feared the sword, and hoped to escape degradation and death by half em¬ bracing Islam, like the ‘hypocrites’ of Medina and the neighbouring villages and plains, but gnawed their fingers with rage against the Muslims; they were worthless wretches, who did not hesitate to commit crimes when the opportunity offered and were already fomenting seditious plans and nursing ambitious projects. Others were pacifists, who gave their allegiance to the winning side, would not assist the lawful authorities by repudiating trouble-makers, and equated their own interest with the public interest. Thus Abü Bakr’s nomination was unexpected and 'Umar’s remark justified, for dire consequences were near at hand. The Prophet based his allocation of high offices solely on good works, and this leads the author

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to a disquisition on equality between Muslims. He refutes allegations against 'Umar of having favoured the Quraishites, and quotes examples to show his egalitarian outlook. On the other hand the strongest argu¬ ment in 'All’s favour is his kinship with the Prophet. He also refutes accusations by the Shl'ites to the effect that al-Zubair wanted the caliphate to go to 'All, and explains at length the meaning of Abü Bakr’s remark: ‘I am at your head, but I am not the best of you.’ Then he goes on to consider the obligation to establish a caliph, and dis¬ tinguishes between

5. The common people and the aristocracy [250] . . . The common people is but a tool in the hands of the élite, who use it for the pursuit of vulgar callings, for the conduct of trade, to defend them against the enemy and to fill up holes. The common people bears the same relation to the aristocracy as a man’s organs bear to him. When he thinks, he understands; when he under¬ stands, he decides [251]; and when he has decided he moves or stays still all by means of his organs, excepting of course the heart. Just as the organs do not know the mind’s intentions, do not think, and so have no reason to disobey orders, just so the common people is not apprised of the government’s intentions, has no idea of the aristoc¬ racy s policies, and hence does not stray from due obedience to orders and decisions. The organs of the body and the common people, controlled and directed as they are, may refuse obedience because of some disability . . .; for instance, a hand may be paralysed, or the tongue struck dumb, and the mind be powerless to heal or restore them, for all its strength of will and the gentleness of its methods. So it is with the common people when it gets frightened and excited, and allows itself to be ruled by passion and folly, for all the soundness of the aristoc¬ racy s policies and the propriety of the government’s actions. But the disobedience of an organ is less serious and pernicious; for when the common people turns away from the aristocracy, resists the government and hardens its heart against its rulers, the result is irretrievable ruin and utter destruction. The common people’s welfare and perfect happiness depend upon direction by the aristocracy and obedience by the people, just as the proper working ot the human body and the complete satisfaction of its needs depend on good direction by the mind and obedience by the organs. [252] The mind may attain all its desires, achieve all its aims, unearth all that is buried, and strike all the hidden springs; but if the tongue will not obey, and refuses to utter its fine words, or if the

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hand is unwilling to write elegantly, all these discoveries, however important they may be, remain a dead letter. The aristocracy needs the common people as the common people needs the aristocracy; it is the same with the heart and the limbs. The common people is a shield for defence, a weapon for attack, like the bowman’s shield or the carpenter’s chisel. A sharp sword in trusty hands is no more useful than a soldier who obeys his leader and follows his imam. In Jâhiz’s view the common people understands certain religious principles, but its knowledge is limited. Here he distinguishes between the traditions that the common people can understand and those that are the prerogative of the aristocracy, and goes on to complain of the eagerness of the ignorant to discuss religious questions.

6. Theology and the common people [253] . . . There is another field which is unknown to the common people and throws the mob into confusion. Yet whenever any question arises in this field it joins in the discussion, oblivious of its own in¬ competence and the true nature of its disability. This happens with questions such as predestination, anthropomorphism and ‘promise and threat’ [254], Though it might never think of claiming profound knowledge of the law, or dream of venturing into matters it does not understand, it is always ready and eager to discuss ta'dil* and tajwir*, free will and innate characteristics, the method of trans¬ mission of traditions, and any subtle and sublime question concern¬ ing God. If a scholar stands up in the main street or the market-place and discusses grammar and prosody, or discourses on the law, astronomy, mathematics, medicine, geometry or the crafts, only specialists will gather round and dispute with him. But let him but say so much as a word about predestination, or mention the Knowledge and Will [of God], or ‘capacity’ and responsibility, or consider whether or not God created unbelief, and there will be no fool of a porter, no downand-out wretch, no tongue-tied idiot or ignorant blockhead who will not stop and argue and contribute his approval or criticism . . . [255] These sort of people ought not to associate with the aristocracy; and furthermore, however good their intentions may be, they lack the attainments needed for understanding and discrimination. Nevertheless there are categories and degrees among the people in the matter of knowledge of God; and in this connection the author refers to his treatise on knowledge (see II above). Then he reverts to the

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establishment of the imam by the aristocracy: the latter must choose the best candidate, who will inevitably be known.

7. Establishment of an imam [261] . . . When we say that ‘people’ must establish an imam, we mean the aristocracy; but the obligation is real only if it is capable of fulfilment. If our opponents ask what determines the capacity or in¬ capacity of the aristocracy, we reply: The common people might be opposed to it and rally to a usurper. [262] If they ask: Does the obligation remain when the common people fails to support the aristocracy in establishing an imam?, we reply: In some cases it remains, in others not. If they say: In which cases does it remain?, we reply: When the whereabouts of a person worthy of the imamate and fulfilling the necessary conditions is known, when his affair is not concealed and tactical dissimulation (taqiyya*) is no longer called for. If they say: Surely tactical dissimulation must lapse when the forces of the aristocracy are superior to those of the usurper and the common people remains neutral, siding neither with it nor against it?, we reply: [What we have said] does not hold good where the forces of the aristocracy are superior. In that case, if tactical dis¬ simulation is no longer necessary, the aristocracy must establish an imam. If they say: Why do you allow it the right to taqiyya, but absolve it from the necessity of it when its forces are superior?, we reply: For several reasons. The first is that if the enemy is well prepared, has arms, equipment and supplies, and is united, [he is dangerous], for a small united force is stronger than a large disunited one—apart from the fact that he possesses the most effective weapon and the most valuable ordnance of all, namely training, experience and knowledge of tactics, as the result of his long practice in and continual need for warfare. Then among the aristocracy, even if a man worthy of the caliphate is known, everyone is convinced that his neighbour intends to betray and desert him. As long as taqiyya continues, it is inevitable that people will all wait for one another [263]; for even if in their heart of hearts they are willing to act in concert, their feeling of solidarity is useless unless they consult together. If they say: Were the situation thus, they would never be able to establish an imam; for no co-operation is possible between them so long as they cannot come out into the open, we reply: Not so. Tactical dissimulation by some members of the aristocracy towards other members can end for various reasons: the tyrant’s treatment of them

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may worsen, his injustice become abominable, his oppression, dic¬ tatorship and tyranny be intensified until it drives them to breakingpoint: then it will galvanize them to talk and complain among themselves and meet together; for from the moment that they all feel murderous inclinations in common, every man can count on his neighbour’s agreement—for he knows the seething indignation that his misery breeds in him. The consequence is that they agree openly as well as clandestinely, for they are all seized with a common urge to action. When they meet together, their ardour, the vehemence of their wrath, and their clearsightedness all increase. From the mo¬ ment that they come out into the open and share their secrets, and their [conspiracy] is noised abroad and their [intentions] disclosed, they know that nothing they do escapes the notice of their opponent and oppressor. Then they know that war is their only hope, and open revolt their one salvation. They find themselves compelled to pay out money and put forth all their efforts. These then are the causes for quarrels and mutual recrimination, one thing leads to another, and words are followed by deeds. At that moment violence is a possi¬ bility, and religious obligation becomes absolute. [264] Thus the scope of action is a question of possibility: if the possibility is lacking there is no obligation, but its presence entails obligation. Another reason for them to come out into the open may be that they are aware of the weakness of their oppressor’s forces . . . These and similar situations provide an incentive for them to come out into the open, disclose their inmost thoughts and reveal their secrets, whereas previously, though inwardly raging and chafing to over¬ throw and oust their tyrants, they were compelled to forbear and dissemble whilst awaiting a favourable opportunity, the appearance of a chink [in the enemy’s armour], and a chance to unite and put an end to taqiyya . . . In short, once it becomes possible for them to withstand and master their opponent, and a man worthy of the caliphate has appeared and is known to them, their duty is to put him in power and defend him. Jàhiz rules out the possibility of several persons at the same time exactly fulfilling the qualifications needed in an imam, and turns next to the 8. Procedure for accession to the imamate [270] . . . The imam may be established in three different ways: first, as we have just explained2; or in the circumstances in which the I.e. following the overthrow of a tyrant or usurper in the circumstances described in the preceding text. 2

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Muslims put 'Uthmân b. 'Affân* in power, after 'Umar* had desig¬ nated six persons of comparable worth and they in turn elected one of their number ... A third possibility is the situation that prevailed when the community made Abü Bakr* caliph; the circumstances were different from those of 'Uthmân’s election, since the Prophet had not appointed a council as 'Umar did . . . [132]3 ... In Abü Bakr’s case the community did not compare the respective merits of the Emigrants or announce the reasons for the superiority of the person elected; for they were Muslims who had known each other intimately for 23 years . . ., so that Abü Bakr’s merits were im¬ mediately obvious to them; on the Prophet’s death they had no need to form their opinion, since they already knew . . . [278]4 ... If we should be asked: Which is better for the com¬ munity, to choose its own leader and mentor, or for the Prophet to choose him for it?, we reply: Had the Prophet chosen him, that would have been preferable to choice by the community itself; but since he did not, it is well for it that he left the choice to it . . . Had God laid down the [procedure for the nomination of the imam] in a detailed formula [279] containing precise directions and clear signs, that would have been a blessing, for we know that everything God does is better. But since He did not make such specific provision, it is preferable for us to have been left in our present situation. How can you oblige or compel God [270] to establish an imam according to a formula because in your view such a solution would be more ad¬ vantageous and less troublesome, and better calculated to avoid error and difficulty? Yet you have [of your own accord] conceived obscurer, more tortuous, more abstruse and more perilous notions without any written formulas or detailed explanations, such as ta dll* and tajwïr*, the difference between innateness and free will, etc. We have never known a man to turn atheist or zindiq* because of error or dissension about the [271] imamate, whereas countless numbers have become zindiqs and Dahrites* over these questions. The Shi'ites claim that God designated 'Ali; but the author declares that He did nothing of the kind, indeed that Abü Bakr left the choice to the community and Umar appointed a council on which all views were represented; the Shi'ite view is thus unfounded.

XVI

THE NÀBITA

The author first outlines the history of Islam during the golden age that preceded 3 Due to a mistake by the editor, p. 132 comes after p. 270. 4 Similarly, pp. 278-9 need to follow the previous passage.

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1. The assassination of' Uthmân [310] . . . [This period lasted] until the assassination of 'Uthmàn*, with the shameful circumstances that surrounded it: his assailants set upon him by force of arms, cut his belly open with lances, slashed his jugular veins with arrowheads and shattered his skull with hunt¬ ing-spears, though he did not so much as lift [a finger] or offer the least resistance. He had, however, first made clear to them in what circumstances it is lawful to kill a Muslim [311] who recites the pro¬ fession of faith, prays towards the qibla* and eats [the meat of animals ritually] slaughtered. Moreover they struck his wives before his eyes, and suffered men to enter his women’s quarters. Nâ’ila bint al-Faràfisa [, his wife,] defended him with her bare hands, and had two of her fingers cut off while so doing; she had even removed her veil and lifted her skirt in her efforts to hamper the assassins and break the force of their on¬ rush. Then they trampled on 'Uthman’s chest, dragged his naked body outside and threw it on the rubbish heap. So much for the paragon whom God’s Messenger judged worthy to marry his noble daughters! Before that they had reviled him and left him to die pain¬ fully of hunger and thirst. He had, however, disputed with his enemies and reduced them to silence; and all were agreed that the murder of a fâsiq* was as sinful as that of a mu'min*, except in certain specific cases, namely apostasy after conversion to Islam, adultery after acquiring ihsàn*, wilful homicide against the person of a mu'min, [312] or armed assault leading to the death of the aggressor as the result of self-defence by his victim. They were also all agreed on not killing from behind, or dispatch¬ ing a wounded man, if he was a member of the community. Yet they broke into his house and his women’s quarters, while he sat in his prayer-niche, his Koran in full view on his lap, never dreaming that a monotheist would dare to murder a man in that place or posture. But without a doubt his enemies spilt blood there whose froth will not settle nor its seething quickly die away; his avengers will not vanish or tire of calling for redress . . . They could have arrested him, fixed him in the pillory, punished him, sold his estates, gardens and possessions, and imprisoned him to the end of his days, immuring him so that his voice would never have been heard again, and so spared themselves his murder: if, that is, he were guilty of all the crimes they imputed to him and charged him with. After 'Uthman’s death internal dissension set in, and lasted until the accession of 7

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

2. Mu'âwiya b. Abi Sufyân [314] . . . Mu'âwiya then took office, and established his undisputed authority over the rest of the Council of Electors and over the assembly of Muslims, both Ansar* and Emigrants. This year was called 'âm al-jamà'a; but it was not so much a ‘year of reunion’ as a year of schism, coercion, oppression and violence, a year in which the imamate became a monarchy after the fashion of Chosroes, and the caliphate a tyranny worthy of a Caesar. Yet all that amounts to no more than depravity and fisq*\ Mu'âwiya’s subsequent misdeeds were similar to those already mentioned, and of the same degree of seriousness, so that he reached the point of openly rejecting the Prophet’s doctrines and flagrantly repudiating his precepts regarding the ‘child of the bed’ and the penalty for debauchery. Yet the community were all agreed that Sumayya* was not Abü Sufyân’s* firàsh* but his companion in debauchery. By his [recognition of a collateral relationship], Mu'âwiya took himself out of the category of fàjir* and became a real kafir*. [315] His execution of Hujr b. 'Adi*, his action in assigning the land tax revenue of Egypt for life to 'Amr b. al-'As*, his proclama¬ tion of the dissolute Yazld* [as heir apparent], his monopolization of the spoils of war, his favouritism in the appointment of provincial governors, his replacement of legal penalties by nepotism and personal intervention—do not [all these actions] amount to the re¬ pudiation of published decrees, recognized laws and established traditions? This was the first lapse into unbelief within the community, and it was perpetrated by men who laid claim to the supreme imamate and the caliphate! Many Muslims of that period were guilty of the crime of kufr*, in that they failed to denounce Mu'âwiya’s impiousness; but they are outdone by the Nâbita and the innovators of our own day, who say: ‘Do not curse Mu'âwiya! He was one of the Com¬ panions of the Prophet, and to curse him is a [blameworthy] inno¬ vation; whosoever hates him contravenes the sunna.' In other words, the sunna requires us to pardon those who specifically repudiate the sunna ! The author reviews the various Umayyad caliphs and lists their crimes, waxing indignant at the Nâbita’s permissive attitude to them. Then he quotes their views on predestination and anthropomorphism, and goes on to the question of

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3. The createdness of the Koran [321] . . . Most of them held that the Word of [322] God is bright and beautiful, and is an argument and a proof; that the Pentateuch is a different thing from the Psalms, the Psalms from the Gospel, the Gospel from the Koran, and the Sura of the Heifer (II) from the Sura of the House of 'Imrân (III); that God undertook the compila¬ tion of the Koran in order to make of it the proof of the truthfulness of His Messenger; that if He had wished to make it longer, or shorter, or to amend it, or put something else in its place, He could have done so; that He revealed it in all its details; that this Koran was in God and nowhere else; that no one else can do this; and yet, despite all this, that God did not create it. Thus they specify every single one of the attributes of createdness, but jibe at using the actual word ‘crea¬ tedness’ . . . The strange thing is that the obstacle they say prevents their ad¬ mitting that the Koran is created is that they did not hear this saying in the mouths of their forbears; and yet they know that they did not hear them say [323] that it is uncreate either! That does not matter. But seeing that they regard the Word of God as similar to speech, i.e. the formation of syllables by the tongue and lips, anything not partaking of this character and nature not being ‘speech’, and seeing, moreover, that in their view we do these things and yet are not the creators of our own speech, it follows inescapably that God is not the creator of His Word, since we ourselves are not the creators of our speech. They adopt this [line of reasoning] only because they see no difference between our speech and the Word of God: even if they do not explicitly admit as much, that is the purport of their thinking. Thanks to the Nàbita, says Jâhiz, the age is dominated by heresies, viz. anthropomorphism and determinism. In addition there is the fanaticism of 4. The Shu'übites [324] . . . This is what non-Arabs have come to, what with the Shu'übiyya* and their doctrines and the mawâli* with their claims to superiority over Arabs and non-Arabs alike. Among these mawâlï* a new school of thought has arisen, a Nâbita* has grown up, which holds that by virtue of his clientship the client has become an Arab, for the Prophet said: ‘The client of a tribe is a part of it,’ and ‘Clientship is kinship like natural kinship: the maulâ* is not sold or given

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away.’ We know that when the non-Arabs possessed the power and the prophethood they were nobler than the Arabs; but when God transferred these privileges to the Arabs they became nobler than the non-Arabs. Hence the maxvâlï say: Because we previously [belonged to] the non-Arabs we are nobler than the Arabs, and because we now live among the Arabs we are nobler than the non-Arabs; the nonArabs have only the past, and the Arabs have only the present, whereas we have both properties at once; and those who have two properties are superior to those who have only one. God has made the non-Arab maulâ an Arab by virtue of his clientship, as He made the ally of Quraish* a Quraishite by virtue of his alliance and Ishmael an Arab after being a non-Arab. Had the Prophet not said: ‘Ishmael was an Arab’, he could only be a non-Arab in our eyes, for the nonArab cannot become an Arab or vice versa; and we know that Ishmael became an Arab after being a non-Arab, simply because the Prophet said so. Hence we see how much weight to [325] attach to the hadiths ‘The maulâ of a tribe is a part of it’ and ‘Clientship is kinship’. . . . The mawâlï express sundry other opinions, which we have reported in their proper place . . . What could be more vexing than to find your slave claiming that he is nobler than you, while in the same breath admitting that he acquired this nobility when you emancipated him!

XVII REFUTATION OF THE CHRISTIANS The author lists the grievances that Christians have against Muslims because of the latter’s misinterpretation of Christian doctrine. He starts with the grounds for preferring Christians to Zoroastrians or Jews, in particular the fact of having had Jews as neighbours at Yathrib, verses 85 et seq. of Sura V of the Koran, and the existence of two Christian Arab kingdoms.

1. Judaism and Christianity in Arabia before and under Islam [133] . . . Another reason [for preferring Christians] is that Christianity was the commonest religion among the Arabs—except among the Mudarites*, with whom neither Judaism nor Zoro¬ astrianism could make any headway either. Only a few Mudarites embraced Christianity, settling at al-Hira, where they were known as the Tbâd*; and there were some small Christian groups scattered among certain tribes, so that until their conversion to Islam they had

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contact only with pagan Arabs. It was very different with the other rulers and tribes, among whom Christianity was rife: Lakhm*, Ghassan* and al-Hârith b. Ka'b* at Najràn*, and several of the tribes and clans of Qudâ'a* and Tayyi’* were Christian. This re¬ ligion then appeared among the Rabfa*, and spread to the Taghlib*, the 'Abd al-Qais*, the clans of the Bakr* and especially the Dhü al-Jaddain family. (Judaism, on the other hand, had at the advent of Islam only a few adherents in the Yemen and among the Iyâd and Rabi'a tribes; the greatest number of Jews were at Yathrib*, among the Himyarites* and at Taimâ’* and Wâdî al-Qurâ*, and moreover they were not of Arab origin, but descendants of Aaron.) The fact that these Christian Arabs were highborn and had ties of kinship with the non-Christian Arabs made the common people more favourably disposed towards the Christians. Even today, noting that they have an emperor, that many Arabs are Christians, and that they include among their number theologians, physicians and astrologers, it reckons them as on a par with scholars and philosophers. The Jews, however, are in its view quite another matter. From this point of view the difference between the Christians and the Jews is that the latter consider that the study of philosophy is a cause of unbelief, that the application of dialectic to the study of religion is a heresy and the very fountainhead of doubt, that the only true learning is that contained in the Pentateuch and the writings of the Prophets, and that belief in the efficacy of medicine and faith in astrologers’ predictions are likewise causes of heresy, leading towards heterodoxy and away from the path trodden by their forefathers and models. They go to such extremes in the matter that they suffer the blood of those who do these things to be spilt with impunity, and silence any who are tempted to follow their example. The author undeceives those who admire Christians, pointing out that the legacy of Greece antedates Christianity, and adds: ‘The Greeks were scholars, but the Byzantines are artisans.’ Moreover their religion has affinities with atheism. Jâhiz then proceeds to explain

2. Wherein lies the apparent superiority of Christians [135] . . . The reason why the common people respects and loves them is that they include among their number secretaries, kings’ flunkeys, noblemen’s physicians, perfumers and money-changers, whereas the Jews are dyers, tanners, barbers, butchers and tinkers. As a result Muslims suppose that the Jewish religion occupies the same place among other religions as their despised callings do among other callings, and that their unbelief is the more repugnant because

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they are the most unclean of people. The physical defects of the Jews are worse than those of the Christians, because the Jews marry only among themselves, so that their infirmities remain with them. Fresh blood never mixes with theirs, nor does the vigour of other races refresh their stock. They are distinguished neither for their intelli¬ gence, their bodily strength or their shrewdness . . . For our part, we do not gainsay the common people concerning the riches that belong to the Christians, or deny that they have a reigning emperor, are cleaner than the Jews, and follow more de¬ sirable callings. But we do not agree with the mob’s view about the difference in degree [136] of unbelief between the adherents of the two religions; this is the result of the Christians’ violent and persistent struggle against us, and their unremitting anxiety to set traps for us, notwithstanding their lowly origins and humble extraction. As for their royal house, the callings they follow and their outward appear¬ ance, we know that the Christians now have costly mounts and thoroughbred horses, that they have packs of hounds, play polo, wrap themselves in madinï*, wear mulham* and mutabbaqa*, employ [Muslim] servants, and take as their names or kunyas* Hasan, Husain, Abbas, Fadl and 'All; all that now remains for them is to call them¬ selves Muhammad and take the kunya of Abü al-Qâsim1! The conse¬ quence is that Muslims humble themselves before them. Many Christians have forsaken the zunnàr*, and others only wear it under their clothes. Many prominent citizens dodge the poll-tax and shirk paying it, though they have the means. They return insults and blows. Why should they not, and more, when all or most of our cadis reckon the blood of an archbishop, a metropolitan or a bishop as equal in value to that of Ja'far*, 'All*, 'Abbas* or Hamza*? Or when a Christian who insults the Prophet’s mother with imputations of shameful conduct is subject to no more than a reprimand and mild corporal punishment, on the pretext that she was not a Muslim? My God, what a feeble, inconsistent argument! The Christians have done the Muslim community much harm, and they continue to make converts; they practise human castration, and are uncircumcised, and it is impossible to discover exactly what their re¬ ligion consists of. Jâhiz rejects the miracles of Jesus, and then sets out to answer the question

3. Is Jesus the son of God? [143] For our part, we cannot concede that God has a son, either begotten of the flesh or by adoption. We consider that this would be 1 The Prophet’s kunya.

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to show great ignorance, and to commit blasphemy; for if God is Jacob’s father He must be Joseph’s grandfather, and once we admit that he can be a father and a grandfather (without for a moment suggesting actual paternity, introducing any complication or in any way diminishing His divine majesty and greatness), then we must likewise admit that He is a paternal and maternal uncle; for if it is proper to call Him father on the strength of His mercy, His affection for a person [chosen by Him] and His willingness to bring him up, then it is equally proper for someone wishing to do Him honour and show Him that he acknowledges His superiority and mastery over the whole of creation to call Him brother and find a companion and friend for Him. Now these things are lawful only for him who does not acknowledge God’s greatness and man’s insignificance compared with Him . . . I shall also show you another aspect of this question, which will make you see that my argument is well founded. Had God known that in the Books which He revealed to the Israelites the following words occurred: ‘Your father was my firstborn, and you are the children of my firstborn’, He would not have been wroth when they said: ‘We are God’s children’2. For how could God’s son’s son be other than God’s [grand-]son? That would have been a mark of complete respect and perfect love, all the more because He said in the Penta¬ teuch: ‘The Banü Isrà’ïl are the children of my firstborn son.’ Clearly, when the Arabs asserted that the angels were God’s daughters3, God considered this belief a grave sin, and showed forth His wrath on those who professed it, though He well knew that they did not impute them to Him as begotten of the flesh. How then can God be supposed to have declared beforehand to His creatures that Jacob was His son, like Solomon, Ezra and [144] Jesus? God is too great for paternity to be counted among His attributes, and man too con¬ temptible to claim to have been begotten of God. After further exegetical considerations Jâhiz comes to the problem of

4. The Holy Ghost [151] . . . If they say: Is not God, as God said: ‘It is His spirit [issuing] from Him’4? maculate conception and his 2 Koran, V, 21. 3 Cf. Koran, XVI, 59. 4 Koran, IV, 169.

the Messiah the Spirit and Word of Word, that He cast into Mary, and a Did He not Himself declare his im¬ mother’s purity? Did He not say that

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Jesus had no [human] father, and was a creator, since he moulded a bird out of clay and quickened it, so that it flew away5? What greater proof is there that the Messiah is in no respect like a man and is different from all mankind?, we reply: You have questioned us about what is accepted in our language and our religion, not in yours. Had we regarded things as lawful that according to our language are not so, or said things concerning God that we do not know, we should be liable in the eyes of God and our hearers to the punishment appropriate to those guilty of mortal sins, we should be in the worst of heresies, and we should be giving you more than you asked and exceeding your best hopes. If in saying ‘Jesus is the Spirit and Word of God’ we were bound according to our own [ 152] language to admit that God made him His son, to regard him as another god besides God, and to say that a Spirit was in God and left Him and entered into Jesus’s body and Mary’s breast, then we should have to say the same of the angel Gabriel: for he also has been called Spirit of God and sanctified Spirit. But you know very well that we believe no such thing, and admit nothing of the kind. How could we tell people things that we do not think, or acquaint them with beliefs that we do not profess? Had God said ‘We breathed Our Spirit into him , it would mean that God breathed this Spirit into him as a man blows up a water-skin, or as a goldsmith does with his bellows, and that part of His Spirit left Him and entered into the bodies of Jesus and his mother. But that would be appropriate rather to Adam, of whom He said: ‘He began by creating man out of mud, then He gave him issue . . . and breathed part of His Spirit into him’6, and again: When I had fashioned him perfectly, and breathed [part of] My Spirit into him, [the angels] bowed down before him’7. The word breathe into’ has different senses, like the word rüh (spirit, breath). God attributed this Spirit to Himself in some cases and not in others, depending on their importance. The cases in which he attributes it to Himself include the angel Gabriel, who is called Faithful Spirit, and Jesus son of Mary. A case in which the word rüh means only help or succour is that of Moses, for when he said: ‘The sons of So-and-so have answered the call of such a prophet, but have not answered thine’, God replied: ‘The Spirit of God is with all men. As for the Koran, God has called it Spirit and has made it to be a guide to men for their bodies and their worldly goods. Because the two meanings of the word rüh can lead to ambiguity, He added in each case a word to distinguish it from the others, saying to His 5 Cf. Koran, V, 110. 6 Koran, XXXII, 6. 7 Koran, XV, 29.

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Prophet: ‘We have also revealed to thee a Spirit which is from Us’8, and: ‘The angels shall come down, and the Spirit shall be in them’9. Finally Jàhiz endeavours to show that Jesus is a man like other men, asserting that only an anthropomorphist could accept that divinity could be incarnated in a human body.

XVIII THE MERITS OF THE TURKS AND OF THE IMPERIAL ARMY AS A WHOLE This epistle is addressed to al-Fath b. Khàqàn, the Caliph’s favourite and himself a Turk. After declaring that knowledge must precede action, the author expresses his admiration for the loyalty and zeal with which al-Fath defends his master against the

1. Enemies of authority [2] . . . The monarch has no lack of people in whom disfavour has aroused resentment, base fellows spoilt by royal favour, impatient ones who, having received double their due, suppose, in their ig¬ norance of their true worth and their narrowminded ingratitude, that their proper share is larger and their right to it better founded than it really is; malcontents who deserve rather to be reminded of their monarch’s earlier favours and past kindnesses to them, but who have been led astray by the tolerance shown them, made insolent by a long spell of good fortune, and spoilt by long-standing freedom from material cares; revolutionaries unknown in the community but mighty in disorder, who thrive on commotion: [3] having been driven away by the power of the monarch, restored to favour by the educa¬ tional instrument of adab*, and humbled and brought low by the rule of law, they now make defamation their sole [defence], are satis¬ fied only when engaging in seditious talk, find their peace only in wild dreams, and associate only with agitators, impostors and sus¬ pected lunatics; and men of ambition but no merit, unworthy opponents, who on the strength of some matter earlier put down to their credit, or a service actually rendered by someone else, seek to be placed on a par with men of merit and set above the supporters of the régime. » Koran, XLII, 52. 9 Koran, XCVII, 4.

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2. The unity of the Imperial army You tell me that at a gathering attended by members of the Imperial army of various nationalities, descendants of 'Abbâsid propagand¬ ists, old men belonging to the Shï'ite élite, seasoned sons of high officials, and men known for their loyalty and the sincerity of their religious convictions . . ., you heard a man in the body of the audience, one of the last category of those present, make an ex¬ tempore speech of remarkable authority and independence of thought, without kowtowing to the great men or being overawed by the orators present. Expressing strong views in outspoken language, he declared that the Imperial army at present consisted of five groups: Khuràsânïs, Turks, mawâlï*, Arabs and Abnâ’*; and he gave thanks to God for uniting men so different, races so varied and am¬ bitions so disparate under the same allegiance. You say that you challenged this extraordinary speaker, this affected orator, who had set up these subdivisions and distinguished these groups, contrasting their racial origins, differentiating between them on ethnic grounds and emphasizing the disparity of their ante¬ cedents. You upbraided him severely for his words and heaped abuse on him, saying that the Imperial army ought to be described as united, or virtually so, and that you did not approve of the introduc¬ tion of racial distinctions between its various groups, or any loosening of the ties that bound them together. Al-Fath had reinforced his argument by declaring that the army could really be regarded as composed entirely of Khuràsânïs, and that there were no sharp distinctions between the various groups. In an endeavour to bring them together, he had also said that the Turks already formed part and parcel of the Arab community, but that the orator in question had simply omitted to mention them. Jàhiz accordingly proposes to deal with the Turks and compare their merits with those of the other groups, with a view to conciliating them. The author bases himself on evidence from friends of his who have taken part in discussions about the virtues of the various groups within the army; he reports that the officers tend to regard the Khàrijites as more formidable than the Turks —except a certain Humaid, whose views he proceeds to retail.

3. The Turk as a horseman1 [28] A Khàrijite* at close quarters relies entirely on his lance. But the Turks are as good as the Khàrijites with the lance, and in 1 From the French version by J. Sauvaget, Historiens arabes, Paris, 1946 pp. 7-10.

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addition, if a thousand of their horsemen are hard-pressed they will loose all their arrows in a single volley and bring down a thousand enemy horsemen. No body of men can stand up against such a test. Neither the Khàrijites nor the Bedouins are famous for their prowess as mounted bowmen. But the Turk will hit from his saddle an animal, a bird, a target, a man, a couching animal, a marker post or a bird of prey stooping on its quarry. His horse may be exhausted from being galloped and reined in, wheeled to right and left, and mounted and dismounted: but he himself goes on shooting, loosing ten arrows before the Khàrijite has let fly one. He gallops his horse up a hillside or down a gully faster than the Khàrijite can make his go on the flat. The Turk has two pairs of eyes, one at the front and the other at the back of his head. One of the criticisms of the Khàrijite concerns his way of dis¬ engaging from combat, and of the Khuràsânï his method of engaging. The weakness of the Khurâsânïs is that as soon as they come up with the enemy they wheel round: if pursued they then take flight, and return again and again to the charge. These are reckless tactics, which may encourage the enemy to keep on their heels. When the Khàrijites break off an engagement, it is broken off for good: once they withdraw they do not return to the charge, unless by chance. The Turk does not wheel round like the Khuràsànï, indeed if he turns his horse’s head it is deadly poison and certain death, for he aims his arrow as accurately behind him as he does in front of him. Especially formidable is his trick of using his lasso to throw a horse and unseat its rider, all at full gallop . . . [29] ... He also commonly resorts to another trick with his lasso: he aims it nowhere near his adversary, and the fool takes this for clumsiness on the Turk’s part or adroitness on his own! They train their horsemen to carry two or even three bows, and spare bowstrings in proportion. Thus in the hour of battle the Turk has on him everything needful for himself, his weapon and the care of his steed. As for their ability to stand trotting, sustained galloping, long night rides and cross-country journeys, it is truly extraordinary. In the first place the Khàrijite’s horse has not the staying-power of the Turk’s pony; and the Khàrijite has no more than a horseman’s knowledge of how to look after his mount. The Turk, however, is more experienced than a professional farrier, and better than a trainer at getting what he wants from his pony. For it was he who brought it into the world and reared it from a foal; it comes when he calls it, and follows behind him when he runs. It is so well trained that it recognizes the call meant for it, as a horse knows ‘hoo!\ a she-

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camel ‘hall’, a camel ‘jâhiV, a mule “adas’, and a donkey ‘sâsâ\ or as the village idiot knows his nickname or a child its name. If the Turk’s daily life were to be reckoned up in detail, he would be found to spend more time in the saddle than on the ground. The Turk sometimes rides a stallion, sometimes a brood mare. Whether he is going to war, on a journey, out hunting or on any other errand, the brood mare follows behind with her foals. If he gets tired of hunting the enemy he hunts waterfowl. If he gets hungry, jogging up and down in the saddle, he has only to lay hands on one of his animals. If he gets thirsty, he milks one of his brood mares. If he needs to rest his mount, he vaults on to another without so much as putting his feet to the ground. Of all living creatures he is the only one whose body can adapt itself to eating nothing but meat. As for his steed, leaves and shoots are all it needs; he gives it no shelter from the sun and no covering against the cold. As regards ability to stand trotting, if the stamina of the border fighters, the posthorse outriders, the Khârijites and the eunuchs were all combined in one man, they would not equal a Turk. The Turk demands so much of his mount that only the toughest of his horses is equal to the task; even one that he had ridden to exhaustion, so as to be useless for his expeditions, would outdo a Khârijite’s horse in staying-power, and no Tukhàrï pony could compare with it. The Turk is at one and the same time herdsman, groom, trainer, horse-dealer, farrier and rider: in short, a one-man team. When the Turk travels with horsemen of other races, he covers twenty miles to their ten, leaving them and circling around to right and left, up on to the high ground and down to the bottom of the gullies, and shooting all the while at anything that runs, crawls, flies or stands still. The Turk never travels like the rest of the band, and never rides straight ahead. On a long, hard ride, when it is noon and the halting-place is still afar off, all are silent, oppressed with fatigue and overwhelmed with weariness. Their misery leaves no room for conversation. Everything round them crackles in the in¬ tense heat, or perhaps is frozen hard. As the journey drags on, even the toughest and most resolute begin to wish that the ground would open under their feet. At the sight of a mirage or a marker post on a ridge they are transported with joy, supposing it to be the haltingplace. When at last they reach it, the horsemen all drop from the saddle and stagger about bandy-legged like children who have been given an enema, groaning like sick men, yawning to refresh them¬ selves and stretching luxuriously to overcome their stiffness. But

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your Turk, though he has covered twice the distance and dislocated his shoulders with shooting, has only to catch sight of a gazelle or an onager near the halting-place, or put up a fox or a hare, and he is off again at a gallop as though he had only just mounted. It might have been someone else who had done that long ride and endured all that weariness. At a gully the band bunches together at the bridge or the best crossing-place; but the Turk, digging his heels into his pony, is already going up the other side like a shooting star. If there is a steep rise, he leaves the track and scrambles straight up the hillside, going where even the ibex cannot go. To see him scaling such slopes anyone would think he was recklessly risking his life: but if that were so he would not last long, for he is always doing it . . . [33] . . . The Khârijite’s lance is long and heavy, the Turk’s a hollow pike; and short hollow lances have greater penetrating power and are lighter to carry. This is why the Iranis keep long lances only for their foot-soldiers: these are the weapons used by the Persians of Iraq for fighting at the entries to trenches and from behind barri¬ cades. Not that they are to be compared with the Turks or the Khurdsànïs; in most cases they use them only at the entries to trenches or from behind barricades. The others are horsemen and riders, and horses and riders are the pivot of an army. They it is who withdraw and return to the charge, who fold the battalions around themselves as a letter is folded, and then scatter them like hair. No ambush, ad¬ vance-guard or rearguard duty but is always entrusted to the best of the mounted troops. Theirs are the glorious days, the famous battles, the vast conquests. Without them there could be no squadrons or battle formations. They it is who carry the standards and banners, the kettledrums, bells and trappings. [34] Theirs are the neighing, the dust flying, the spurring on, the cloaks and weapons flapping in the wind, and the thunder of hooves; they are the unerring in pursuit, the unattainable when pursued. The author continues his eulogy of the Turks, quoting sundry traditions borrowed from the man Humaid. Then he considers their psychology, pointing out that they are characterized by great home-sickness for their own country and exceptional fondness for moving about. From this he passes on to a consideration of

4. National characteristics [43] . . . Know that every nation, people, generation or tribe that shows itself outstanding in craftsmanship or pre-eminent in eloquence,

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the various branches of learning, the establishment of empires or the art of war, only attains the peak of perfection because God has steered it in that direction and given it the means and the special aptitudes appropriate to those activities. Peoples of varying habits of thought, different opinions and dissimilar characters cannot attain perfection unless they fulfil the conditions needed to carry on an activity, and have a natural aptitude for it. Good examples are the Chinese in craftsmanship, the Greeks in philosophy and litera¬ ture, the Arabs in fields that we mean to deal with in their proper place, the Sâsânians in imperial administration, and the Turks in the art of war. Do you not see that the Greeks, who studied theory, were not merchants, artisans, sowers, farmers, builders, fruit-farmers, hoarders of treasure or men bent on making money by hard work? Their rulers absolved them from the necessity to work by providing for their needs; and hence they were free to engage in research, and (thanks to their single-mindedness, ingenuity and imaginativeness) to invent machines, tools and musical instruments—music which brings peace to the soul, relaxation after travail, and blessed balm for the ulcer [44] of anxiety. They built for men’s profit and edification scales, balances, astrolabes, hourglasses and other [instruments], and invented medicine, mathematics, geometry, music and engines of war such as the mangonel, etc. They were thinkers, not doers: they de¬ signed the machine, made a template and drew a model of the tool, but could not use it; they confined themselves to giving directions about instruments, without handling them themselves. They loved science, but shrank from its application. The Chinese for their part are specialists in smelting, casting and metalworking, in fine colours, in sculpture, weaving and drawing; they are very skilful with their hands, whatever the medium, the technique or the cost of the materials. The Greeks are theoreticians rather than practitioners, while the Chinese are practitioners rather than theoreticians; the former are thinkers, the latter doers. The Arabs, again, were not merchants, artisans, physicians, farmers—for that would have degraded them—, mathematicians or fruit-farmers—for they wished to escape the humiliation of the tax; nor were they out to earn or amass money, hoard possessions or lay hands on other people’s; they were not of those who make their living with a pair of scales [45], or [by giving short measure] in dried foods, and knew neither the qïrât* nor the danaq*', they were not poor enough to be indifferent to learning, pursued neither wealth, that breeds foolishness, nor good fortune, that begets apathy, and never tolerated humiliation, which was dishonour and death to their souls. They dwelt in the plains, and grew up in contemplation of the

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desert. They knew neither damp nor rising mist, neither fog nor foul air, nor a horizon bounded by walls. When these keen minds and clear brains turned to poetry, fine language, eloquence and oratory, to physiognomy and astrology, genealogy, navigation by the stars and by marks on the ground, and knowledge of anwa1*, to horsebreeding, weaponry and engines of war, to memorizing all that they heard, pondering on everything that caught their attention and dis¬ criminating between the glories and the shames of their tribes, they achieved perfection beyond the wildest dreams. Certain of these activities broadened their minds and exalted their aspirations, so that of all nations they are now the most glorious and the most given to recalling their past splendours. It is the same with the Turks who dwell in tents in the desert and keep herds: they are the Bedouins of the non-Arabs . . . Un¬ interested in craftsmanship or commerce, medicine, geometry, fruit¬ farming, building, digging canals or collecting taxes, they care only about raiding, hunting, horsemanship, skirmishing with rival chief¬ tains, taking booty and invading other countries. Their efforts are all directed towards these activities, [46] and they devote all their energies to these occupations. In this way they have acquired a mastery of these skills, which for them take the place of craftsmanship and commerce and constitute their only pleasure, their glory and the subject of all their conversation. Thus have they become in the realm of warfare what the Greeks are in philosophy, the Chinese in craftsmanship, and the Arabs in the fields we have enumerated. Jâhiz adds, however, that not all Greeks, Turks, Bedouins, etc., conform to the picture he has been painting of them. After listing the qualities required in war, he quotes a line of reasoning by which the Turks claim to be closer to the caliphate than the Arabs; he then offers some information about customary law among the Khuràsànïs and the Turks, tells some anecdotes, and concludes by apologizing for his own de¬ ficiencies.

Il Jâhiz’s own particular type of adab LITERARY WORKS

XIX Elegance of expression and clarity of exposition XX Eloquence and conciseness XXI Schoolmasters XXII The skills of the masters [of guilds] XXIII Funeral oration XXIV Character sketch XXV Attack on the [present] day XXVI Types of singers

QUASI-SCIENTIFIC WORKS

XXVII XXVIII XXIX XXX XXXI XXXII

8

The circle and the square Animals Mules Capital cities and the wonders of countries Superiority of the blacks to the whites The food of the early Arabs

LITERARY WORKS XIX

ELEGANCE OF EXPRESSION AND CLARITY OF EXPOSITION

After an abrupt beginning concerning loss of the power of speech, the author asks God to preserve him from this, quoting verses on the subject and aphorisms about eloquence. He castigates those who try to appear eloquent when they are not, citing the example of Wâsil b. 'Atâ’, who avoided using words containing the letter ‘r’ because he could not pro¬ nounce it. He remarks in passing that different towns have different vernaculars, and gives examples of borrowings; then he dwells at length on the quarrel between Wàsil and Bashshâr, and goes on to consider which sounds in Arabic are most easily corrupted. Next he speaks of famous orators, listing those who were also poets, and especially born poets; he specifies the most eloquent tribes, and tells various anecdotes, notably the following:

1. The wisdom of al-Ahnaf b. Qais [I, 53] . . . Al-Ahnaf b. Qais* came into the presence of Mu'àwiya b. Abï Sufyân*, who pointed to a cushion and bade him be seated. Al-Ahnaf, however, sat down on the floor. ‘What prevents your tak¬ ing the cushion?’ asked the Caliph. ‘The advice, Commander of the Faithful, of Qais b. 'Asim* to his son, when he said: “Do not go too often to see your sovereign, lest he tire of you; do not curtail your visits, lest he forget you; sit neither on a carpet nor a cushion, and leave room for one or two others between you and him, lest someone worthier than you come in, and you be obliged to rise and yield him your seat, which would enhance his prestige at the expense of yours.” This seat will do for me, Commander of the Faithful, since someone more deserving of the other may yet come in.’ T see’, exclaimed Mu'àwiya, ‘that the Tamim* have inherited polished language as well as wisdom!’ The author gives a description of al-Ahnaf, then speaks of the function of the teeth in speech, and offers some reflections on the virtues of poetry and on assonance.

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2. Accents and mimics [I, 69] . . . The yokel brought up in the Sawâd* of Küfa speaks standard Arabic, his vocabulary is stylish and well chosen and his ideas are lofty and noble; yet by his speech and pronunciation he is recognizably Nabataean. Similarly with the Khurâsânï: despite all the care he takes over syntax and style, it is obvious from his accent that he is a Khurâsânï. The same is true of the chancery secretaries from al-Ahwâz*. Nevertheless there are mimics capable of reproducing in perfect detail the pronunciation of Yemenis; and they can equally well imi¬ tate Khurâsânïs, Ahwâzïs, Zanjïs, Sindis or Ethiopians. They even seem more natural than the originals! When they imitate a man with a stammer, it is like all the peculiarities of all the world’s stammerers rolled into one. They imitate blind men, making up their faces and eyes and affecting movements of their limbs such that not one blind man in a thousand exhibits all these peculiarities; the mimic seems able to catch all the characteristic movements of the blind man at the same time. Abü Dabbüba al-Zanjï, a maulà* of the Ziyâdids*, used to stand at the al-Karkh* gate [I, 70] and bray, not far from the place where the donkeymen had their stand; and every ass, be it never so old, sick, lame, tired or broken-down, would bray with him, whereas if a real donkey had brayed not one of them would have taken the trouble to imitate it. He had managed to make his braying a synthesis of all the sounds a donkey is capable of: and similarly with the barking of dogs. This is why the Ancients used to say that man can be regarded as a microcosm: for he can do everything with his hands and imitate any sound with his mouth, eats greenery like the beasts of burden and meat like the wild beasts, and comprises within himself all the phenomena found in the animal kingdom. The mimic can reproduce the sounds of every language, thanks to the ‘capacity’ and ability that God has vouchsafed to man, and the superiority He has conferred on him through the gifts of speech, intelligence and free will. By efforts and practice the mimic has com¬ pelled his organs to obey him; but when he leaves his faculties alone, and allows his tongue to follow its nature, then as a result of its early training it reverts to its accustomed usage. This is, however, only true of the category of [unwonted] sounds and movements. As regards the sounds used in ordinary speech, it is a different matter when it comes to an acquired language. Thus a Sindï imported when grown-up will always say z instead of j, even if he lives for fifty years among the upland Tamïm, the lowland Qais or the remotest Hawâzin. Similarly

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with the pure-bred Nabataean, . . . who says ^ for z and hamza for 'o/n. [I, 71] If the owners of a slave-girl maintain that she is a native of an Arab country, while the dealer suspects that she is a Byzantine, he tests her by making her say nâ'ima and shams three times. After some reflections on the disabilities that mar eloquence, the author proceeds to deal with

3. Expression [I, 75] . . . The ideas that dwell in men’s hearts, form in their minds, struggle within their breasts, interlock with their thoughts and are born of their reasoning are veiled and hidden, remote and inaccessible, disguised and buried, existent yet non-existent. No man knows his neighbour’s mind, the desires of his friend and brother, or the thoughts of the business partner who helps him realize desires he cannot attain unaided. These ideas come to life only when they are given utterance, brought into the open and used. Then they impinge on the understanding [of others], are made plain to the mind, re¬ vealed after being hidden, present after being absent, and near at hand after being remote ... To the extent that they are expressed plainly, with appropriate gestures and proper conciseness, . . . ideas become clear. The clearer and more lucid the expression and the more eloquent and luminous the gesture, the more useful and effec¬ tive they are. Clear expression of a concealed thought is bayân*, which you have heard praised and enjoined by God . . . [I, 76] The word bayân comprises anything that reveals the sense and brings out the inner meaning, so that the hearer may grasp the reality of it . . . The main object of both speaker and hearer is simply to understand and be understood; and any means used to make oneself clearly understood is bayân. There are just five ways, neither more nor less, of expressing ideas in speech or otherwise: the first is speech itself, then come gesticulation, counting on the fingers, writing, and finally what is known as nisba*. The latter is a means of expression which serves for all the others and can well replace them. These five methods occur in different forms and with varying degrees of elaboration. They it is that make it possible to convey the broad substance of ideas, the fine detail of their inner truth, the various types and their value, the element of the particular and the general in them, their attractiveness or offensiveness, and any worthless tinsel or useless rubbish they may contain. [I, 77] . . . We have already referred to expression through the medium of speech. As regards gesticulation, the hands, head, eyes, eyebrows and shoulders come into use when a conversation is carried

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on at a distance, and even a piece of cloth or a sword ... [I, 78] Speech and gesture are partners, and what a precious helpmeet and interpreter gesture is to speech! It often takes its place, or makes writing unnecessary . . . The wink, the movement of the eyebrows and other gestures are priceless adjuncts, and a great help in ex¬ pressing surreptitious thoughts . . . [I, 79] . . . Gestures carry further than words, and to that extent are superior . . . The voice is the instrument of speech and the key to the articula¬ tion and interrelation of sounds. The movements of the tongue only become speech when sound is produced, and sounds only become language when they are articulated and interrelated. An elegant gesture with the hand or head complements a nice expression with the tongue, indicating familiarity, coyness, affectation, hesitation, the arousal of desire, etc. So much for expression by means of gestures. As regards writing, God in His Book had this to say, speaking to His Prophet, about the merits and virtues of writing: ‘Preach! thy Lord being the Most Generous, who taught by the pen, and taught man what he knew not’1. It is by the pen that He swears, in His Book revealed to His Prophet, when He says: ‘By the pen, and what they write’2; and hence the saying: ‘The pen is one of the two languages’, like ‘A small family is one of the two ways of being wellto-do.’ There is also a saying: ‘The pen leaves a more lasting mark, while the tongue casts more words in the air’ . . . [I, 80] . . . Counting on one’s fingers is a method of reckoning that does not need speech or writing; the proof of its merit is the amount of profit that can be made with it. The word hisâb (reckoning, cal¬ culation) has many meanings and comprises many benefits. If men did not know its meaning in this world, they would not understand the meaning of ‘reckoning’ in the next. Tonguetiedness, bad writing and ignorance of counting on the fingers are the cause of the ruina¬ tion of most of God’s blessings, the loss of the whole of the benefits, and the disruption of something that God made to be a stay, an advantage and a provision for us. [I, 81] As for nisba*, it is the situation that speaks for itself without the need for words, and is manifest without the necessity for a gesture of the hand. It is everything that is to be seen in the heavens, on earth and in the whole of nature, whether dumb or endowed with speech, animate or inanimate, moving or still. The utterances of an inert object can be as eloquent as the cries of an animal. The dumb man speaks to declare [the existence of God], and the tonguetied to give the proof of it. 1 Koran, XCVI, 3-5. 2 Koran, LXVIII, 8.

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

The best language is that which is richest in meaning. After quoting other opinions, the author proceeds to give the definition of balâgha in various countries. Whilst on the subject of gesticulation, he gives us a

4. Portrait of Abü Shimr [I, 91] . . . When he argued, he never moved his hands, shoulders, head or eyes, so that his words seemed to be issuing from a cleft in the rock. He disapproved of people who gesticulate, saying that gestures become such a necessity to them that they cannot express themselves without them. ‘When a man speaks,’ he would say, ‘he is not entitled to other aids.’ But one day at Ayyüb b. Ja'far’s* house Ibrâhîm b. Sayyâr al-Nazzâm* managed by dint of his arguments and questions to get him to wave his hands, disturb the set folds of his clothes, and come over to him and take his hands. On that day Ayyüb forsook Abü Shimr’s way of thinking and went over to alNazzâm’s! Abü Shimr had deluded himself and been led to take a false view of the situation because his friends hearkened to him, de¬ ferred to him, drank in his words and agreed with everything he chose to say [I, 92], This long-standing deference and lack of opposition, and the fact that he did not need to take trouble over what he said, had made him forget the days when he had debated with his equals and argued with real opponents. He was a dignified old man, calm and composed, not without learning, and respected for his hilm*. Balâgha is highly developed in India and elsewhere. The author gives the names of orators and others who never made mistakes, then reverts to the various definitions of balâgha, opines that a speech needs a dash of the Koran in it, gives some advice on how to acquire the art of speak¬ ing, says that he himself prefers writing, and gives his views on 5. Fine language [I, 144] . . . Just as speech should not be vulgar, incorrect or slangy, so also it should not be uncouth or outlandish—unless, that is, the speaker is a Bedouin. Uncouth language is understood only by uncouth people, just as the common people only understands its own vernacular. Language, like people, is of many types: lofty and trivial, beautiful and ugly, good and bad, grave and gay; but it is all Arabic* and all these types are spoken, whether one approves of them or not. . . [I, 145] .. . There is nothing on earth more elegant and edifying, pleasanter to the ear, more easily understood by sensible men or

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better for loosening the tongue and improving the enunciation than the leisurely talk of intelligent, cultured, eloquent Bedouins with a good command of their language. Those [whose opinions I have quoted] are right in general, but I maintain that frivolous words go with frivolous thoughts. Frivolity is sometimes called for, and can be much more edifying than solemn, grave talk and lofty, highflown ideas, just as an extremely dry anecdote can be more amusing than an extremely vivid one; but anything in between gives rise to heartrending, overmastering gloom ... It is the same with in¬ different poetry and singing: the only interest is in great vividness or extreme flatness. When you hear a story told in Bedouin dialect, take care only to repeat it with the case-endings and the original pronunciation. If you alter it and get the endings wrong, or use the pronunciation of mongrel Arabs or townsmen, you will spoil the whole flavour of the anecdote [I, 146] and miss the point altogether. Likewise if you hear a plebeian joke or a low-class witticism, beware of putting in the final vowels or telling it in correct language or refined accents, for that would spoil the whole point of it, destroy the effect and rob it of spice and flavour. Let me tell you that the most unbearable grammatical errors are those committed by affected people . . . Still worse are those of the Bedouins who pitch their tents in the neighbourhood of main roads and busy markets. Mistakes by refined young women, adolescents, handsome youths and chubby-cheeked little girls are more bearable. They can even be attractive, provided that the young lady [if it is a young lady] is not affected, and that the mistakes are current among the local in¬ habitants. Likewise faulty diction is attractive in women so long as they are young and charming; when they are old it is quite another matter. A young woman may be called Ghulayyim (‘laddie’), Subayya (‘girlie’) or something of that sort; but when she becomes a matron with a full figure, or a knowing old woman carrying a lot of weight and layer upon layer of fat, with grown-up sons and daughters of her own, it is absurd to say to her: ‘How are you this morning, Laddie?’ or ‘How are you this evening, Girlie?’ It is not for nothing that Arabs give their daughters a kunya*, calling them Umm Fadl, Umm 'Amr, etc. To be baligh is to be able to make oneself understood, but that does not mean that balâgha can survive an indefinite number of mistakes. The author sings the praises of Arabic, and tells anecdotes to illustrate

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quickness of repartee. He advises those who have any particular talent to cultivate it, then quotes sayings by ascetics and verses on various topics, particularly moderation and eloquence. He praises school¬ masters (see XXI below), quotes speeches, verses and phrases in rhyming prose as models, reproduces speeches by the Prophet and other orators, and finally lists the famous orators of Southern Arabia and the sooth¬ sayers, ascetics and street preachers renowned for their eloquence. Continuing with his list of orators, he touches on the subject of sticks, which are their badge. At the beginning of Volume II he is about to reply to those nonArabs who object to Arabs using a stick when they speak. But before doing so he devotes a good deal of space to speeches, poets, memorable sayings by the Prophet and harangues by famous persons, especially the one by Abü Hamza. Next he gives some enigmatic and untranslat¬ able replies, tells sundry stories, names orators guilty of faulty diction, devotes a chapter to idiots and madmen, gives further specimens of speeches, aphorisms, verses containing comparisons, proverbs, and sayings by theologians, and concludes Volume II with stories about madmen. It is only in Volume III that he embarks on the long-awaited book about sticks. Jâhiz reproduces the attacks made by the Shu'übites on the Arabs, making copious use of key quotations. The topic gives him the opportunity of telling a story he has been told about 6. The Taghlabï* lad and his stick [III, 45] . . . When I was a young man and my purse light, I left Mosul to go privily to Raqqa*; and my travelling-companion was a lad from the Jazïra* whose like I have never seen since. He told me he was a Taghlabï and a descendant of 'Amr b. Kulthüm*. He carried a haversack, a water-skin and a stick. He never let go of the latter for a moment, but took it with him everywhere he went, which so irritated me that I almost threw it into the river. We were on foot; when we found beasts of burden we rode them, but otherwise [III, 46] we walked. I made some remarks to my companion about his stick; but he replied that when Moses son of 'Imran saw a fire on Sinai and was minded to go and take a brand from it for his family, he took care to take his stick with him even that little way. When he reached the holy vale of the promised land, he heard a voice saying: Throw away thy stick and put off thy sandals’; so he threw away his sandals, which he did not need (for God had cleansed the ground of all impurities), and God put all His miracles and signs into Moses’s stick, and spoke to him from inside a bush and not from within a man or a jinn. He continued to sing the praises of sticks, while I laughed and

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paid no heed to him. When we set off on our donkeys, the donkeyman remained behind; my companion’s mount went well, and when it showed signs of stopping he drove it on with his stick, whereas mine would not go, well knowing that I had nothing in my hand to use on it. The boy arrived at our night’s halting-place long before me, and had time to rest himself and his ass, while I had to wait for the donkeyman to come up. I said to myself: That is number one! In the morning, when we were ready to set off again, we could find nothing to ride, and so started out on foot. When he got tired he rested on his stick; and he even ran and vaulted with it, putting one end into the ground and taking off like an arrow. When we reached the night’s halting-place I was tired out, while he was still quite fresh. I said to myself: That is number two! On the third day we passed through an area where the ground was all cracked and fissured, and came upon a terrible snake, which attacked us. All I could do was to take to my heels and abandon my companion to the reptile [III, 47]. But he hit it with his stick and stunned it, and when it reared up and made to strike again he felled it with another blow of his stick and killed it with a third. I said to myself: That is number three, and the most serious yet! On the fourth day I had a great craving for meat; but I was a fugitive, and penniless. Suddenly a hare got up: my companion hit it with his stick, and before I knew what was happening he was hold¬ ing it up in the air. We were able to slaughter it in the prescribed fashion. I said to myself: That is number four! Then I said to him: Tf only we had a light, I would not wait for the night’s halting-place to eat it.’ ‘But you have,’ he said, and taking a piece of wood from his haversack he rubbed it against the stick and struck a far better spark than markh* and 'afar* make. He collected all the twigs and rubbish he could find, made a fire, and put the hare on to cook. When we took it off it looked unappetizing, covered with earth and ash; but the Taghlabï took it in his left hand and tapped it a few times with his stick, and everything that had stuck to it fell off. We ate, my craving for meat was assuaged, and all was well. I said to myself: That is number five! Then we stopped at a caravanserai, and found that the rooms were full of dust and filth, for troops had been in it before us, and moreover the place was falling in ruins, and we could find no [decent] place to lie. My companion caught sight of the head of a shovel lying in a corner; he picked it up, fitted his stick into it for a handle, and began to clear out all the dirt; [111,48] he cleaned the floor so thoroughly that the flagstones were exposed to view and the foul smell went away. I said to myself: That is number six!

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I was not anxious to put my clothes and provisions on the floor, so he took his stick out of the shovel-head, drove it into the wall and hung my clothes up on it. I said to myself: That is number seven! When we reached the crossroads and I was about to take leave of him, he said to me: ‘If you would turn aside and spend the night at my house, you would be fulfilling the obligations that devolve on a travelling-companion. The house is close at hand.’ So I followed him, and he took me to a house adjoining a church. All night long he engaged me in conversation on a variety of topics and told me interesting stories. At daybreak he took up a piece of wood and began to strike it with the famous stick, and lo! it was a prayergong without its peer in the whole world, and he seemed to me the most skilful of men in its use. ‘You wretch!’ I said to him, ‘so you are no Muslim, for all you are an Arab descended from 'Amr b. Kulthüm!’ ‘Yes, I am,’ he replied. ‘Then what are you doing beating that gong?’ ‘Excuse me,’ he replied, ‘my father is a Christian, and the priest of this church. Since he is very old, I help him as best I can when I am at home.’ I had been involved with a real devil, the cleverest, most urbane and best educated of men. I told him that I had kept count of the virtues of his stick, after having been tempted to throw it away. ‘Were I to start telling you about the virtues of sticks,’ he cried, ‘the night would be too short!’ A chapter about the uses and advantages of sticks, including blind men’s walking-sticks, leads on to the badges used by various social groups— the veils, sandals and robes peculiar to certain classes. Then the book on asceticism begins: it contains sayings by ascetics, details of their characters, and homilies by them. The foremost is al-Hasan al-Basri, but there is mention also of others from Basra and Küfa. Verses on the renunciation of the world and other subjects are followed by prose extracts, speeches by Khàrijites, miscellaneous pieces, and a disquisition on how God made Ishmael speak Arabic. The author is at pains to win the reader’s interest; he retails some of the sayings of the 'Abbàsids, and takes the opportunity to slip in

7. Al-Mcimuns opinion of Jâhiz's books [III, 374] . . . When al-Ma’mün had checked my books on the imamate and found that they were in accordance with his instructions, he directed al-Yazïdï* to go through them and report to him on their contents. Then he sent for me, and said: ‘Someone whose intelligence we respect and whose reports enjoy our confidence has given us an account of the sound workmanship and abundant interest these

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books contain. [Ill, 375] We said to him: Description, it is said, sometimes casts a better light than personal scrutiny, but having now read them ourselves we see that personal scrutiny casts a better light even than the description you gave us. On careful re-reading they show themselves better still, just as the first reading disclosed greater merit than the original report. Here is a book which does not require the presence of its author [to be understood], and needs no advocate; the subject is conscientiously dealt with, and profound thinking goes hand in hand with elegance and lucidity; its appeal is both to princes and the common people, to the élite and the masses.’ The beginning of Volume IV contains stories about madmen; and then Jâhiz proffers some confidences about his early training.

8. Jâhiz's training [IV, 23] ... I got to know the ruwât* who were among the regular attenders at the great mosque and the Mirbad. Those who did not collect verses by madmen and Bedouin brigands, the Bedouin nasib*, short Bedouin pieces in rajaz*, works by Jewish poets or the poems known as munsifa* were not regarded as true ruwât. Then all that seemed stale and dull, and short pieces and qasidas*, selections and extracts, became all the rage. I remember when scholars were infatuated exclusively with the love-poems of al-'Abbas b. al-Ahnaf*; but when Khalaf al-Ahmar* brought them samples of the Bedouin nasib* they forsook al-'Abbas b. al-Ahnaf and became just as enamoured of this nasib. But in recent years it seems to be only a few young people just starting out to collect verses, and young bloods keen on erotic poetry, who collect it. I listened to Abù 'Ubaida*, al-Asma'î*, Yahyâ b. Nujaim and Abü Malik 'Amr b. Kirkira*, as well as the Bagdad ruwât, and I never knew any of them to look for or recite nasib, whereas Khalaf collected all that sort of thing. The grammarians only aimed to collect verses containing [characteristic] Vrâb*, while the trans¬ mitters cared only for verses containing a rare word or an abstruse image calling for laborious explanation. The transmitters of secular traditions, for their part, looked only for proverbs and key passages. They all seemed to me—and I speak from long observation—to pause only at elegant expressions, choice topics and pleasing phrases, lofty and easy to understand; they considered only a poet’s main talent and best workmanship, and picked out only the subtle and picturesque turns of phrase, the images that linger in the mind, filling and improving it, and that unlock for the tongue the door of

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eloquence, show the pen the path of hidden words, and evoke the most beautiful trains of thought. I noticed that a feeling for expressions of this sort is more wide¬ spread among rimât who are themselves writers, and more apparent in the mouths of skilful poets. I saw Abü 'Amr al-Shaibanl write verse at his friends’ dictation with an eye to its inclusion in the body of poetry [which it is fashionable] to remember and [quote] in con¬ versation. And I sometimes had the impression that these poets’ sons will never write good poetry because they are eclipsed by their fathers’ talent. Were it not for the fear of being thought spiteful, especially towards scholars, I would set down in this book some things that I have heard from the mouth of Abü 'Ubaida. But who can be less the object of your suspicions than he? On this enigmatic note, he breaks off.

9. The Prophet's attainments [IV, 32] A certain shaikh* of Basra said: ‘If God took for His Prophet an unlettered man, unable to read or reckon, unversed in the genealogies, without pretensions in poetry, public speaking or elo¬ quence, it was in order to give him a special training in law and the legal provisions of Islam, and to make him devote himself to studying the interests of the faith to the exclusion of all the things on which the Arabs pride themselves: tracking, physiognomy, knowledge of anwâ'*, horses, traditions and the fostering of poetry, so that when he came forward with the Koran and used unaccustomed language he would be the more easily able to convince people that all that was of God.’ Thus according to this shaikh God kept from Muhammad* the knowledge of Arab culture, traditions and poetry not in order to rank him below a secretary-accountant or an orator versed in the genealogies, but in order to make him a prophet and give him a purer and loftier training. In other words, He humbled him in order to exalt him, deprived him in order to endow him bounteously, and hid from him the little in order to reveal to him the much. [IV, 33] But this shaikh, though he means well, is mistaken; his views are in keeping with his intellect and level of education. Had he said that the Prophet’s attainments in writing and arithmetic, in poetic composition and the transmission of genealogies, were of a high order and developed to perfection, but that he had diverted his energies to high things, things worthier of the exalted rank that befitted his prophetic mission, that when he needed eloquence he

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became the most eloquent of men and when he needed the art of speaking he showed himself the best of speakers, or the most learned of genealogists, or the most perceptive of physiognomists, [this shaikh would have been nearer to the truth]. Had it been apparent and notorious that he knew writing and arithmetic and was a poet, a genealogist, a physiognomist and skilful tracker when God gave him the proofs of the mission and the signs of prophethood, this would in no way have vitiated the obligation to believe in him or the need to obey him and respect his precepts, whether one liked it or not. But God saw to it that the wicked should have no excuse for ignoring his preaching, so that man’s consciousness of their duty to him might be clouded by no doubt, however slight, and be less arduous and easier to bear. That is why he turned away from the things that other men engage in and compete with one another in. Having not composed or transmitted poetry for a long while, his tongue could not pick it up again, for habit is nature’s twin sister. In different circumstances he could, if he had wished, have been supreme in eloquence, better than the best genealogist and more perceptive than any qa’if *, and his attainments could have been complete and his accomplishments perfect; but all his energies were directed towards more useful ends. There is a difference between regarding the Prophet as lacking in ability and acknowledging that though well grounded he forgot certain things as the result of long unfamiliarity with them. It is strange that the one who holds these views should never have seen the Prophet perform one of his miracles, or rather that he should never have considered him when he spoke at length, far outstripping the verbose orators, or measured his words, [IV, 34] easily surpassing every other speaker, and have realized that all he lacked was the ability to write and to compose poems. How could he form such a view, seeing that things were patently quite otherwise with the Prophet? The treatise ends with reflections on poetry, its merits and dangers, the assertion that Arabic surpasses all other languages, and miscellaneous texts.

XX

ELOQUENCE AND CONCISENESS Prolixity and conciseness

The peoples of the world, both Arabs and non-Arabs, generally prefer conciseness, admire economy of words, and dislike verbosity,

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prolixity and unduere petition. The Prophet used to remain silent for long periods without saying a word; he used expressions rich in meaning, avoiding both superfluity and ambiguity, and abhorred voluble and garrulous men. It has been said: ‘The most eloquent men are those who use the simplest and most spontaneous expressions.’ Eloquence means conveying the meaning, aiming at lucidity without unnecessary words and with an eye to the difference between separation and reunion. It has been said: ‘The wise man is he who spares his tongue, weighs his words and is on guard lest he later regret them.’ To speak well is admirable: to be able to keep silent is wisdom. Most often conciseness is admirable and prolixity repre¬ hensible, but sometimes it is the other way round: in the wise man both can be justified, for the choice of modes of expression depends on the circumstances, and every word deserves a reply. But concise¬ ness is easier to achieve than prolixity; and he who is capable of the greater is all the more capable of the lesser. Economy of words serves for lightening one’s speech, prolixity for making oneself understood, repetition for conveying insistence and multiplicity of words for laying stress. What is blameworthy in speech is anything that causes weariness, becomes excessive, turns into prolixity or departs from the norm. Anything that does violence to nature and oversteps permitted limits completely transforms the nature of a thing: cold changes into heat, and the useful becomes harmful, just as cold sandalwood rubbed too hard becomes hot and noxious, or snow, a little of which relieves heat, whereas a lot brings it on, or monkeys, which are hideously ugly but are regarded as comical and curious. This is what people mean when they reckon prolixity a sign of incompetence and conciseness a mark of eloquence.

XXI

SCHOOLMASTERS

The author sets out from the beginning to champion schoolmasters, and praises them highly. After a digression about memory, he embarks on the problem of children s education, remarking that the majority of grammarians, jurists, etç., have responsibility for teaching children. Then he points out that there are teachers for everything that man needs to know: writing, arithmetic, law, the Koran, grammar, etc. There follows a list of subjects taught, which even include polo, shooting, horsemanship, music, chess and other games. He adds that the children of the lower classes are given lessons in farming, shopkeeping and other trades, and remarks that even animals can be taught. But schoolmasters he regards as superior to all other categories of teachers.

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Advice to schoolmasters As regards grammar, do not encumber your pupil’s mind with more than is necessary to save him from serious solecisms and preserve him from the ignorance of the mob when it comes to drafting a letter, reciting verses or giving a description of something. Anything more may prevent him acquiring more appropriate skills and make him neglect more valuable accomplishments, such as a knowledge of current proverbs, accepted traditions and praiseworthy poems. Only a man with no ambition to learn about important matters, to give serious thought to taxing problems such as the interests of the country and humanity, or to understand the pillars and the pole about which the earth’s millstone revolves (or one with no other resources or means of livelihood) would wish to make an exhaustive study of grammar or go beyond the stage of a reasonable knowledge of it. Fine points of grammar are the last sort of problem likely to arise in polite society, and there is no need to bother with them. It may be wise to start your pupil on the study of simple reckoning, excluding Indian arithmetic, geometry and complex surveying problems; here you should limit yourself to the amount of knowledge needed in government employees and office scribes. But a thorough knowledge of arithmetic, which is the key to every kind of work ... is more valuable than a mastery of the craft of editing and penmanship; for the worst handwriting will pass muster if the spelling is correct, which is more than can be said of arithmetic. Then teach him the ways of scribes, and how to express abstruse ideas in a simple, easy style; let him taste the joys of conciseness and the delight of economy of words, but warn him against affectation, and impress on him to abhor logomachy: for the best style is that which is clearest to the listener, requires no commentary or explana¬ tion, and confines itself to the idea being expressed, neither going beyond it nor stopping short of it. Choose ideas which are not shrouded in complexities or scattered throughout a long affected discourse. Many men do not scruple to smother their meaning under the exuberance of their style, and so obscure it from the reader: the discourse goes on, but the meaning remains hidden, and is not dis¬ closed by the words. Then the whole remains obscure, and the words are but a plaything and an empty shell. The worst sort of writer is the one who plans the style to clothe his idea before planning the idea itself, out of fondness for certain words and for the pleasure of deploying certain expressions, so that he drags the meaning along behind him, sticking them on to it as though God had created no other words for the concept and had forbidden

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him to express it otherwise. The real disaster is for this writer to be devoid of talent, inarticulate, unimaginative and self-centred, but at the same time only too anxious to be reckoned among the ranks of good writers and prone to plume himself on the name of adlb. In these circumstances he is unable to distinguish the use of word equivalents from his own distaste for it. In short, there is a style suited to the expression of every idea, whether lofty or lowly, comical or serious . . . Those who read books by good authors and thumb through wise men’s works in order to make use of the ideas they contain are on the right track; those who consult them to make use of the style are in error. The loss in the latter case is as great as the gain in the former, for the man whose object is to collect words is so eager and enthusiastic that he is led to use them prematurely and indiscriminately. The right way is to have words spinning in one’s ears, echoing in one’s heart and fermenting in one’s breast; eventually, after a long time, they fertilize one another and bring forth, and their seed is the noblest of seed and their fruit the most luscious of fruit, for it is not the result of theft, robbery or plagiarism . . . When an author relies on idleness, inactivity, plagiarism and trickery, he is unlikely to achieve anything . . . The wrong way is to remember words read in a book or heard on someone else’s lips, and then to try and find them their share of meaning. Anyone who does this is nothing but a niggardly wretch, an unjust man and a thief; he will only do violence to the words and strain the meaning, and write in a disorganized fashion. The last part of the surviving extract consists of remarks that probably belong to another book.

XXII. THE SKILLS OF THE MASTERS [OF GUILDS] Jâhiz claims to have recited the passages that follow before either the caliph al-Mu'tasim or al-Mutawakkil. After a few words on the ten virtues of the language, he advises the monarch to have his children given a general education, so as to avoid the dangers of specialization and consequent Professional illiteracy [261] . . . When the Commander of the Faithful returned home from the land of the Byzantines, I met a groom, and asked him for an

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account of the battle. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the stable yard; in less time than it takes a man to curry his steed, we shut them into a corner tighter than the space an animal needs to roll in the dust; then we killed them, and piled them up like heaps of manure. You could not have thrown a lump of dung without landing on a horse’s tail . . .’ Then I asked Bukhtïshü'* the physician about the same event. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the hospital court¬ yard; in less time than it takes to go to the privy, we shut them into a corner tighter than a syringe. Then we killed them. You could not have thrown a scalpel without landing on the vein of a man’s hand . . .’ [262] . . . Then I put the same question to Ja'far the tailor. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the rag market; in less time than it takes to stitch a coat or two, we shut them into a corner tighter than a shirt-collar. Then we killed them. You could not have thrown a needle without landing on a man’s head . . .’ Next I put the same question to Ibrâhîm b. Ishaq, who was a farmer. He replied: ‘We met them in a place two acres in extent; in less time than it takes to irrigate a patch of sown ground, we shut them into a corner tighter than a gateway, and they were like ears of corn. Then we killed them. You could not have thrown a sickle without landing on a cow’s withers . . .’ Then I put the same question to Faraj al-Rukhkhaji, who was a baker. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of a bakehouse; in less time than it takes to make five loaves, we shut them [263] into a corner tighter than the mouth of an oven; then we killed them. You could not have thrown a live coal without landing on a bakingtray . . .’ I put the same question to 'Abd Allah b. 'Abd al-Samad, a school¬ master. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the school playground; in less time than it takes a schoolboy to read his lesson, we shut them into a corner tighter than [the lines on] a closely written sheet. Then we killed them. You could not have thrown an inkwell without landing in a child’s lap I put the same question to 'Ali b. al-Jahm, keeper of a Turkish bath. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the stokehold; in less time than it takes a man to wash his head, we shut them into a corner tighter than the furnace door. Then we killed them. You could not have thrown a loofah without landing on somebody’s head [264] I put the same question to al-Hasan b. Abî Qumâma, a sweeper. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the palace 9

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terrace; in less time than it takes to fill a rubbish-basket, we shut them into a corner tighter than the hole of a latrine. Then we killed them in less time than a man would take to sweep out latrines for a bet. You could not have thrown a woodlouse without landing on a drain-hole . . I put the same question to Ahmad al-Sharàbï, a wine-merchant. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the tavern courtyard; in less time than it takes to strain the contents of a gallipot, we shut them into a corner tighter than a pint measure. We killed them. You could not have thrown an apple without landing on a drunkard’s nose . . .’ I put the same question to 'Abd Allah b. Tahir, a cook. He re¬ plied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the kitchen yard; in less time than it takes to roast a lamb, we shut them into a corner tighter than a fireplace. Then we killed them. You could not have thrown a spoon without landing in a cooking-pot . . .’ [265] ... I put the same question to Muhammad b. Dâwüd alTüsï, a manservant. He replied: ‘We met them in a place the size of the court of the royal tent; in less time than it takes to do out a room, we shut them into a corner tighter than an armchair. We killed them. You could not have thrown a pillow without landing on somebody’s head . . .’ Al-Mu'tasim* laughed heartily; then he sent for his children’s tutor and instructed him to teach them all branches of knowledge.

XXIII

FUNERAL ORATION

I have received your letter—may God grant you happiness!—in which you tell me of your recovery and reproach me with having stopped writing to you. But you do not know what has happened, the blows of fate, the buffetings of destiny, or the events that have befallen. If I have been long writing to you—may God honour you, my brother!—it is not that I have neglected my duty towards you, nor that I do not take pleasure in communing with you; it is due rather to my own anxieties, the vicissitudes of fate and the twists of destiny, so that I find myself at present like the verse which says: Fate has left me no precious thing to keep: it has robbed me of them all by death or parting. The worries that beset me prompt me to write to you in order to share my emotion, assuage my grief and unburden the misery that presses on my breast. I have looked upon the very face of death and

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walked the path of destruction, drinking its poison and smelling the reek of it. I believe the news of So-and-so’s decease—may God grant him His mercy and grace, and vouchsafe him high rank and all honour in His kingdom!—I believe this news will have reached you. We belong to God and it is to Him that we shall return, to obey His commandment and submit to the promised judgment. There is no power or might except in Him. I think it best to give you a full account of what happened, begging you to understand and make an effort to be a happy man being given good advice by his fellows. I could tell that he was ill, and left him in this state at the beginning of Ramadan. Soon afterwards his illness became more acute and violent, and fear and despair began to outweigh the hope and ex¬ pectation that he would get better. However, the illness soon abated, arousing in his household good hopes of his recovery; and these hopes grew as the illness diminished in intensity, so that his family began to look forward to seeing him soon restored to health. His condition continued to improve, and he regained his strength so well that he was able to eat whatever he wished, get up, walk about and go out in the garden. [40] The pity he had inspired was for¬ gotten, anxiety and apprehension gave way to hope and serenity. One day when he was confiding in me he said, full of eagerness to be cured and gladness at getting better: T think I am saved, and I feel restored.’ He spoke cheerfully, but as the poet has said: When he recovers from an illness he thinks he is saved, but he bears within him the sickness that is to carry him off. Meanwhile the patient was still pale and thin, his humours dis¬ turbed and his balance upset: but despite these symptoms he went to the mosque and sat in the courtyard there. Then the illness took a turn for the worse. When I went to visit him, I could see that his will was firm and his constitution strong, but he was obviously ill. He answered my inquiries like a man whose end is far off, full of hope, not downcast, and with no foreboding of imminent departure. All day he remained in that happy state. Next morning he asked for his siwàk* and brushed his teeth; but his mother, watching him as he did it, was surprised at the weakness of his arm, and asked him what was amiss. T know not, he replied, T no longer feel myself. Make haste and take me downstairs.’ They made all haste, but death intervened as he went down the stairs; that which he had so long tried to escape overtook him, that which he had struggled to stave off took him by surprise, and that which he could not shelter from caught him unawares. He fell for the last time, his eyes glazed and his arms flailing the air. He was carried to his room in

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this dreadful state, deaf to the cries of his dear ones, insensible to their tears, powerless to reply and oblivious of his family. When I came to his bedside I found him like the dying man described by Mutf b. Iyàs*: They called to him, but he remained deaf to their cries; then they said, while the women lamented: What stops you replying, you who are so clever, so eloquent, so fluent ? Learned physicians were summoned, but when they arrived they saw that his condition was hopeless and beyond remedy, and that there was nothing more to be done. They spoke words of consolation to his family and went away giving no directions about his treatment. Meanwhile the sick man was racked with pain, by the grief of those around him and his own agony and throes; death gripped and crushed him as a cloth is crumpled and wrung. He was a beaten man surrendering, a prisoner struck down, and beyond the help of his children, his parents, his relatives or his friends. All they could do was wail and sigh, [41] pray and sob. He was all that day dying, then succumbed to a fatal fever that ended in death. He went to the promised abode. His relatives screamed, wailed, cried out and moaned. To no avail, you may be sure! And the dead will not be brought back by the moaning at the funeral. O God, how sweet and fresh was this man who has been carried off in his prime! What a man we have lost! As the Hudhaili poet said, it is A parting like the loss of a tooth, but patience! All men can stumble and recover themselves. Then we went to lay him out; and now there was nothing but a corpse lying face downward on the pallet and being turned over and over to wash it. I was reminded of the lines of Yazld b. Khudhdhâq: They combed my hair, but it is still dishevelled; they dressed me in unworn garments, Then they bore me away, saying ‘ What a man!' and folded me up as a cloth is folded. A certain sum was deducted from his estate; if he were given it, it would be of little use to him, and it would not be accepted as the price of his redemption. Then he was wrapped in a shroud, placed on the bier, and borne away by his brothers, his true cronies, his family and his best friends—of whom, my dear Abü Muhammad, I was one. I have never seen such a sight; I think it was painful for everyone, and all the more so for us, his friends and intimates.

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You should have seen his poor mother, unveiled in the presence of men, shattered and broken by the weight of grief caused by a calamity beyond consolation, crippled by the loss of her child, her only child, and overwhelmed by sorrow. The dead man had been the best son in the world, and the sweetest to his mother—but were I to list the marks of his filial devotion, they would take up all this letter... You should have seen his women, whom he normally kept hidden: a valuable slave-girl, a household servant and a cloistered wife; they had torn their veils and were showing their bracelets! They were like a body of men doomed to celibacy after the capture of their women. As al-Rabf b. Ziyâd said: Before, they hid their faces and would not show themselves, but now they present themselves to view. [42] You should have seen his daughter, grief-stricken at being left fatherless, cast down and diminished, showing herself to all without shyness, unveiled, letting her face and feet be seen! You should have seen his father, his face streaming with tears and his hands trembling as though ague-stricken by grief. The pain that gnaws his heart, the fire that devours his breast, will not be assuaged by the passage of time. Even if these feelings were not inspired directly by his son’s death, he would feel them in his in¬ tense longing to be with him, care for him, protect him and love him. Had you seen his son, you would have looked upon inexhaustible tears and continual weeping. His eyes were wet, his heart on fire; his tears overflowed, and he remained listless, troubling neither to dry his eyes nor to control himself to mislead the spiteful. You should have seen his companions and friends, bewildered to know which of his qualities to mourn the most: his pleasant com¬ pany and good fellowship, his sweetness of character and openness of heart, his courage and energy, his amiability and dignity or his gentleness, friendliness and courtesy. I have never seen a coffin followed by so many people tearfully imploring divine mercy, manifesting their grief, praying, and singing the praises of the departed. Some lamented his youth, his glowing complexion, his handsome face, his plump figure, his early age; others bewailed themselves, overwhelmed by sorrow, or sobbed, choked by the suddenness of his passing and the cruelty of death. I have never heard of a man dead at his age who better exemplified outstanding virtue, high-minded conduct, remarkable merit and rare good qualities. Such a man was he—may he be vouchsafed God’s mercies!—and he is gone.

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It is as though he had never once uttered a remark towards which ears were turned unwillingly. Then his bier was placed in the courtyard of the Regent’s Mosque. Ja'far b. al-Qâsim, along with the ascetics, holy men and nobles present, prayed over him, inspired by a variety of feelings the least of which was the wish to intercede for divine mercy for him. Then he was lowered into the earth, unresisting and uncomplaining. We might say with Malik b. al-Raib: Take me and drag me towards you in my robe; before, I was not tractable. [43] Then they put bricks on top of his body, filled in the spaces between them, and shovelled the earth back into the grave. Everyone watched with mournful eye, hearts a prey to the pain and misery a true friend is bound to feel. The onlookers quickly bade him a last farewell and departed. One of them said: How long shall we remain behind? But I for my part shall make an end of lamentation, and, running the risk of exaggeration but not of inaccuracy, say this: Though fate made him the target of its arrows, yet will he make resurrection the goal of his good deeds; though his parts are now scattered and dis¬ persed, yet will the parts of his panegyric be collected together; though sudden his departure hence, swift was his entry into the realms of glory; though his death be noised about the city, his virtues are told among the populace; though his body be hidden beneath the earth, his equal has not yet appeared to view; though death took him while still young, his love for his friends grows not old; though death attacked him unawares, yet is he gone to storm the uttermost heights; though his doorstep no longer bears the imprint of our foot¬ steps, yet will the imprint of his loving-kindness remain with us; a joy in the eyes of his friends, he is a burden on the backs of his enemies; though his seat in our gatherings be empty, yet our hearts are full of the remembrance of him; though we can no longer talk with him, yet we can still talk of him; if I weep for him there is good reason, and if I contain myself it is but his due. / could weep for the dead if I wished, but the plain of forbearance is wider. Though we have enjoyed his presence but a little while, we shall long continue in mourning for him; though he left us abruptly, our sorrow will be lingering; if his death has required steadfastness of us, his life gave us cause to show thankfulness; if I now make new friends, to forget a little of my grief and allay the searing pain that burns in my heart, I shall only be like the poet of yore who said:

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If after him I make other friends or keep their company, it will be as a wild beast is driven by hunger to draw nigh to humankind. If the envious are content, if the enemy is glad, if the jealous are happy, if the spiteful jump for joy, if the ill-wishers make merry, if the despisers are gladdened, our only consolation must be to repeat the lines of 'Adi b. Zaid*: O thou that art glad at another's misfortune and vilifieth Fate, is it thou, the innocent, the flawless? [44] If I remain steadfast to mislead the spiteful, if I take pains with my appearance, and look to my hair, dress, toilet and attire, I recall the lines of a poet of yore: For my part, though lam outwardly calm and resigned, and mislead my enemies, I grieve deeply for thee. If Fate has dealt us a cruel blow, we shall easily bear lighter ones. His loss makes us like him of whom the poet said: Before, I wept with those who shed tears, but since thy death thou makest me less tender to the bereavements of others. If I say that he has clipped the wings, cut off the hand, broken the back, smashed the teeth, blunted the edge, weakened the strength, inflamed the entrails, tied the tongue, stunned, bewildered, killed the intellect, suppressed desire, produced forgetfulness, gashed the flesh, broken the bones, left behind sadness, inspired sorrow and stirred up grief, I shall be telling no lies; and still I shall not be at an end of the feelings he has aroused. God be praised, and praised again, for the vicissitudes of fate, the harshnesses of life, the bereavements that must be endured and the pitfalls that He digs! Patience and resignation! Let us return to God’s commandment, and follow His ways. If Fate parts us, my brother, the day offarewells seems praiseworthy to me. In Heaven’s name, Abü Muhammad, what does it avail us to watch and wait for the moment to come? Where is happiness to be found? This world is like a family: when one member leaves home, the others go after him, and no one is left in the house. Do you not know that the caravan has halted? He whose mount is at hand sets off, but it is to God that we return. Do you not know that we are hostages? How then should we not struggle to free ourselves? Do you not know that we are summoned to take part in the race? Wherefore then the lateness, the hanging back? I charge you in the name of God, as I likewise urge myself, to show steadfastness and piety. We are not different from them: at most we remain a little while longer after they have gone.

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XXIV

CHARACTER SKETCH

[59] ... He has never transmitted any traditions, collected any poetry, memorized any historical traditions, read the Revelation or listened to any exegesis. He is content with the Logic as a substitute for the Koran, with [the theory of] procreation and decay in place of the law, with accident and substance as his birthright and the atom and ‘mutation’ (tafra) as his nobility. When Muslims are pondering on Heaven and Hell, he is thinking about dirhams* and dinars*', when the noble think about God, and the pious about the divine reward, he is considering how to refuse alms and increase his possessions. He stands alone in avarice and is unrivalled in hatred, [60] of which he represents the pure strain. He has become an imam of misers and a leader among mean men . . . He said in his will, in front of several penurious relations of his: ‘The Prophet is supposed to have said: “A third, and a third is a lot”: but I say that a third of a third is a lot. The poor have their due entitlement from the public purse: if they claim it like men they get it, but if they fight shy like women it is denied them . . .’ Do not hasten, gentle reader [, to accuse me of exaggerating]; believe me, the picture I am painting errs if anything on the side of restraint. He is invulnerable to spells, proof against cunning, im¬ pervious to flattery and unmoved by criticism. He has no thought for what will be said about him, cannot be hurt by insults, and is in¬ different to the anger of the virtuous, the complaints of the innocent and all threats, reasoning and argument used against him. His friend is treated as though he were his enemy, his next-door neighbour like the most distant stranger; his companion is dying of hunger, his friend in misery, his supporter forsaken, his bosom friend op¬ pressed, his creditor defrauded, his friend driven away, his servant made wretched, his dog emaciated and his door deserted; his guest adopts tactical dissimulation, his dining companion is in distress, and every one of them, except that they have the consolation of prayer, would be in a sorry plight.

XXV

ATTACK ON THE [PRESENT] DAY The evils of our time

[310] .. . May God preserve you as He preserves all those whom He influences towards contentment and submission. I write to you as

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a man sore beset by anxieties, unable to understand the purpose of his existence or see clearly what fate holds in store for him or how things will turn out for him, a man in touch with but few dependable people with whom he can safely have dealings. This is the consequence of the grotesque situation now prevailing, the ruination of our time, with the empire taken over by riff-raff. Once upon a time, a man who put propriety above self-interest and allowed sincerity to guide his speech and fair dealing to determine his actions was entirely secure, enjoyed complete serenity and saw difficulties eventually turn out to his advantage. Nowadays the situation of such a man is turned com¬ pletely upside down. Decency is associated with failure, honesty is severely detrimental to success, and modest unassuming ambitions and honourable godfearing habits are a sign of faulty judgment; for nowadays the greatest advantage and the best chance of success lie in vile covetousness. A reasonable living can be made only by means of a loosening of moral standards and chronic and flagrant criminal behaviour. If anyone disagrees with my view and attempts to demolish my thesis, I can produce proof positive, irrefutable evidence and a blind¬ ing light; for men characterized by the most palpable baseness, hideous defects of character, an unpleasant habit of lying, blatant vulgarity, exceptional ignorance, contemptible feeble-mindedness, perverse beliefs, ill temper and insolence these people enjoy the best of good fortune and security, obtain the lion’s share and win the richest prizes, are treated with the highest consideration and the most obsequious deference, and wield the most effective authority. If one of them stumbles, people say: ‘He is good ; if he makes a mistake, they say: ‘He is right’; if he wanders in his mind whilst wide awake, they say: ‘It is a true vision produced by holy inspiration! My God, there is an argument for you against those who hold that ignorance and stupidity bring a man low, that lying is a handicap, and that vulgarity leads to disgrace! I next turned my attention to loyalty, honesty, nobility, eloquence, fair dealing, composure, broadmindedness, levelheadedness, natural generosity, immense erudition and self-control, [311] and I found that So-and-so, son of Such-and-such, was blessed with all these qualities; but fate deals unfairly with him, and his virtues bring him no advantage. This demonstrates that evil is more profitable than good and that merit has had its day, the wheel having now turned against it. I observe that intelligence leads to unhappiness m the same measure that ignorance and stupidity produce happiness, and it seems to me that the iniquity of fate is well expressed in poetry when I think of these lines:

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

Feign foolishness with fools when thou meetest them; match their ignorance, as a real ignoramus would do. Let thy speech wander when haply thou meetest a man who wanders in his speech both grave and gay. Mari’s intelligence has made him as wretched today as he was happy heretofore. Now I am like a man with one foot in the grave, and ready to depart. I have no grounds for contentment, can see no comfort in prospect, and am beset from morning to night with dreadful woe. If my prayer were answered and my humble petition heard, I should be making my final dispositions and breathing my last. Please God, O my brother, the long-awaited signal for my decease will soon be decided upon, approved and given! I swear that even an earthquake, a hurricane or the curse of God are less grievous for a nation than the continual offence that affronts my eyes and the horrors that come to my ears. Let fate take charge of my punish¬ ment, or else put an end to my days! What good is life without the pleasure of a single understanding friend, with the misery of seeing all day only hateful faces and suffering the presence of such dis¬ tressing beings? Grief has lasted too long, unhappiness drags on, the darkness deepens, the candle gutters, and solace is long in coming.

XXVI

TYPES OF SINGERS

Science and music [186] We find that the philosophers who were foremost in wisdom and possessed encyclopaedic erudition considered that the founda¬ tions of learning, from which the knowledge [striven after by] in¬ telligent men branches out, are four in number: the stars, the signs of the Zodiac and astronomical calculation, which allow us to dis¬ cern the passage of time and the sequence of the seasons, and serve as a basis for the blending of the cardinal humours and for the days of the year; geometry and kindred subjects such as surveying, weights and measures, etc.; chemistry and medicine, on which depend'the proper functioning of life here below, bodily health, the treatment of sickness and everything connected with it; and music, including a knowledge of its parts, its notes, its stresses and its rhythm . . . In days gone by the adherents of each science adopted its methods, followed its path, fathomed its secrets and made possible the initiq-

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tion of others thanks to precise information—except in the case of music. With music they did not understand its primary or secondary causes, its cadences or its scales. Their knowledge of it was intuitive, or based on Persian or Pahlavi traditions, until al-Khalil b. Ahmad* made a study of poetry and its cadence and scansion, identified and classified the various metres used by the Arabs, and collected them together in a book which he entitled [187] al-Arüd. The title reflects the fact that he compared parada) all the verses he knew with the para¬ digms he had established and the rules he had evolved; and he found that there was nothing written by any Arab poet that did not fit into this framework. When he had mastered and perfected this branch of knowledge, he set to work to analyse melodies and musical sounds; and after some trial and error he established rules, which his succes¬ sors adopted and elaborated. The author next refers to the writings of Ishaq b. Ibrahim al-Mauçilï, who was better equipped than al-Khalil, and to the many musicians who came after him. He has in mind to write a sort of musical almanac for the year 215/830-31, leaving blanks which he will fill in later but which no one else is to be allowed to fill in for him. For this reason he resolves to deposit a copy with someone for safe keeping. Unfoitunately the text is lost.

QUASI-SCIENTIFIC WORKS

XXVII

THE CIRCLE AND THE SQUARE

1. Portrait [§ 1] Ahmad b. 'Abd al-Wahhàb* was excessively short in stature, but made himself out to be very tall; though in fact square, his waist was so large and his sides so fat that he gave the impression of being circular; he had pudgy hands and short fingers. For all this he liked to think of himself as lithe and slim, and prided himself that he was handsome, without a paunch, of medium height and with perfectly proportioned bones. He was long in the back and short in the thigh, yet made himself out long in the thigh and shank and very tall, with a large head. He claimed he had been endowed with ‘a tall frame and wide learning’1. He was very old, having been born no one knows how long ago, but boasted of being in his youthful prime. [§ 2] His conceit about his proficiency in various branches of knowledge was equalled only by his ignorance of them, and the trouble he took to parade it was proportionate to his inability to comprehend them. He was much given to contradiction, prone to wrangling, contumacious, enamoured of argument, desperately obstinate, and always anxious to have the last word, though incapable of making valid points or of recognizing specious arguments; he quickly shifted his ground when cornered and dodged when shaken, and argued in blissful ignorance of the penalties of stubbornness, the consequences of intellectual dishonesty, the sterility of wilful per¬ versity, the futility and danger of idle prating, the mortal sin in¬ herent in stubbornness, the uselessness of disputation and the risk of error entailed by insistence on winning at all costs. [§ 3] He was not in fact learned, being a worthless fool who got all his information out of books. He never spoke after mature re¬ flection, believed the first idea that came into his head, and could not tell the pieconceived notions ol an idiot from the considered views of a sensible man. He would reel off the titles of books without knowing what they meant, and envied scholars while having nothing 1 Cf. Koran, II, 248/247.

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in common with them. Of all branches of knowledge, his only real claim was to proficiency in adab. The author decides to expose this person’s ignorance by asking him embarrassing questions. He first addresses him ironically, then pokes fun at his build, his pretensions, etc., and gives him some advice. Next come questions on religious history, pre-Islamic tradition, the genealo¬ gies, Arabic legends, etc.

2. Embarrassing questions [§ 48] Tell me, at what date did mankind comprise a single community speaking the same language? How many generations did it take for the Zanjï* to become black and the Slav white? Why did skin colour change more rapidly than the other bodily features? Why is it that a child exhibits physical characteristics acquired by its father, not innate in him, and yet no Arab child is born insane? What is the factor that prevents this happening? How long was it after the Tower of Babel before each group had a complete language of its own in general use? [§ 49] Tell me, pray, which animal lives longest: the vulture, the onager, the snake or the lizard? When can snakes go without food? When do lizards live on nothing but air? When do vultures stop breeding? Why is it that the mule, which is a cross between a donkey and a mare, is sterile, and the sim\ which is a cross between a wolf and a hyaena, likewise, whereas the ra ibi, which is a cross between an ordinary pigeon and a ring-dove, reproduces itself, and the bukhti, which is a cross between a two-humped camel and a female dromedary, likewise? . . . Tell me about the giraffe: is it really a cross between a male hyaena and a she-camel? [§ 50] Tell me about the 'anqâ’ mughrib*: what were its father and mother, and was it created spontaneously or by the union of a male and a female? Why is it said to be sterile, though supposed to be a female? At what point does it make a cradle for this child, and when does it cover the imam’s supporters with its wings? When does it have a bridle put on it? [§ 51] Tell me about the building of the ramparts of al-Ubulla*, and the founder of al-Hlra*; who raised the buildings of Misr*, and who was the founder of the city of Samarkand? Tell me about the buildings of al-Madâ’in*: are they really, as is supposed, Shem’s handiwork? And is Palmyra really Solomon’s? How much time elapsed between the reigns of Ahab and Nimrod? and between those of Alexander and Solomon?

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The questions are interrupted by some ironic comments on longevity and on legends about people who lived to a great age. Then the author resumes his questioning about sundry legends, jinns, magic, a passage in the Avesta, the manufacture of glass, the effects of poison, etc. Next, probably as an interpolation, comes a risàla probably addressed to Ibn al-Zayyât. Then there are more questions about true and false prophets, the various religions, sorcerers and their tricks, the cardinal humours, numerals, music and the mysteries of India.

3. Sindi sandals [§ 157] I have heard contradictory accounts about Sindi sandals. Some say that the author of Kitâb al-Bâh* was dreadfully short but very anxious to impress women, and therefore had the idea of wearing sandals like this in order to increase his stature by the thickness of their soles. In time it came to be supposed by the ignorant that they were merely decorative, or had some [unknown] advantage. [§ 158] Others say that they were designed to give protection against scorpions by night and mud by day, but that with the passage of time their origin was forgotten. Certainly they are thick enough to allow one to walk through almost any mire, and a scorpion’s sting will not penetrate their sole. Others again say: On the contrary, they were adopted by Indian rulers because of the noise they make, so that their tapping might give their wives and free or slave women advance warning of their approach when they were busy about some task; the tapping became the signal of their arrival and their request for admission. [§ 159] But Ismà'ïl b. 'All* holds: that it was you who ordered them to be worn and suggested that they should be manufactured, but that you will not reveal their secret; that it was you also who taught the Indians to chew betel nut to tint the gums and sweeten the breath, eat turmeric for a reason that you alone know, and use sandalwood for a purpose that may not be stated in writing; [§ 160] and that you were the first to adopt the custom there of folding the skirts of one’s robes so as to make a headrest and elbowrest, of using toothpicks, and parting the hair, and that you taught the Indians to dye themselves. How can this be, seeing that you maintain that the habit of the hubwa* spread among them, and among the Arabs, because tent¬ dwelling desert nomads, inhabitants of the plains and arid wastes, with nowhere to rest their left arm, no support for their back and no

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covering for their thighs, naturally all get backache when they re¬ main a long time in a sitting position? If necessity is the mother of invention, lack of need is the father of idiocy! Jâhiz asks sundry other questions about the sense-organs, and about Solomon, Jesus, etc., and interrogates his opponent about 4. Mirrors [§ 167] Tell me about mirrors. How is it that faces and other external shapes can be seen in them and in any clean, smooth, polished surface such as a sword-blade, a metal sheet, bottles or still water, or even in gleaming ink, the pupil of the eye (when the one looking is white) or the white of the eye (when the one looking is black)? How is it that running water, flames and the glowing sun do not catch the reflection or fix the image? [§ 168] Tell me about the theory of those who say that the moon is not actually obscured, really diminished or permanently darkened, but that this is something that men see (for she is smooth and polished because of her position opposite the earth, just as a man’s image is seen when opposite the pupil of an eye—though there is no image there, but only something placed opposite it). Why do some mirrors show the face and the back of the neck, and make the head seem upside down? Why does the writing on wall-hangings and mattresses always look the wrong way round? [§ 169] Indeed, what is this image that is caught in the mirror? Is it accident or substance, thing, reality or illusion? Is what you see your face, or something else? If it is an accident, then what gives rise to it and creates it, seeing that your face has not touched it or exerted any influence on it? Does the image seen in the mirror obliter¬ ate the image of the space it occupies? Why, since you do not see the image on the surface of the mirror, and why, since you seem to see it in the air behind the body of the mirror? [§ 170] Does this colour, which resembles that of your face, obliterate the colour of the mirror? If not, then there are two images in one body, or two colours in one substance. If it does, how can it do so without having some action on the metal? How can it have an action on it when it is separated from it in space, being neither tangential, adjacent or opposite to it? We could say the same of the surface of the mirror, the air behind it, or the empty space in front of it, since they are all bodies endowed with a colour. The author continues with his questioning, especially about the colour of peacocks’ tails, tides, physiognomy, shadows, etc., and then turns to animals and to soothsayers and their mode of operation.

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5. The author’s real aim [§ 189] I have asked you questions, knowing very well that you are completely unable to answer them. If you wish to know what is true and false in them, what is fictitious or absurd, what is sound and what corrupt, you must make a point of reading my books and coming to visit me at home; start by repudiating anthropomorphism and the theory that God can amend an earlier decree; substitute the doctrines of the Mu'tazila* for those of the Râfida*; and if after receiving every assistance and the most emphatic urgings you find your usefulness still not recognized, then tell yourself that God only rejects the unjust. He winds up with questions about Greek philosophers and logic and complaints about the ignorance of the age.

XXVIII

ANIMALS

Ostensibly to remind his correspondent of his criticisms of them, Jâhiz lists his earlier works, and in so doing gives us valuable bibliographical information. After referring to the beliefs of antiquity, he defends joking, and then goes on to a classification of objects and beings. This leads him to consider the various means of expression open to man, and the faculties that exist in animals but not in human beings. He reverts to the question of jest and earnest, and then sets out to write

1. In praise of books [I, 38] ... A book is a receptacle filled with knowledge, a container crammed with good sense, a vessel [I, 39] full of jesting and earnest¬ ness. It can if you wish be more eloquent than Sahbân Wâ’il*, or less talkative than Bfiqil*: it will amuse you with anecdotes, inform you on all manner of astonishing marvels, entertain you with jokes or move you with homilies, just as you please. You are free to find in it an entertaining adviser, an encouraging critic, a villainous ascetic, a silent talker or hot coldness. As to ‘hot coldness’, al-Hasan b. Hard’* said: Say to Zuhair, when he goes off by himself and sings: Whether thou sayst little or much, thou art a prattler. Thy coldness makes thee so hot that to me thou seemest like fire;

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Let no one be surprised to hear me say this: is not snow both hot and cold at once ? . . . Moreover, have you ever seen a garden that will go into a man’s sleeve, an orchard you can take on your lap, a speaker who can speak of the dead and yet be the interpreter of the living? Where else will you find [I, 40] a companion who sleeps only when you are asleep, and speaks only when you wish him to? ... [I, 41] ... You denigrate books, whereas to my mind there is no pleasanter neigh¬ bour, no more fair-minded friend, no more amenable companion, no more dutiful teacher, no comrade more perfect and less prone to error, less annoying or importunate, of a sweeter disposition, less inclined to contradiction or accusation, less disposed to slander or backbiting, more marvellous, cleverer, less given to flattery or affec¬ tation, [I, 42] less demanding or quarrelsome, less prone to argument or more opposed to strife, than a book. I know no companion more prompt to hand, more rewarding, more helpful or less burdensome, and no tree that lives longer, bears more abundantly or yields more delicious fruit that is handier, easier to pick or more perfectly ripened at all times of the year, than a book. I know no animal product that despite its youth, the short time that has elapsed since its birth, its modest price and its ready avail¬ ability brings together so much excellent advice, so much rare know¬ ledge, so many works by great minds and keen brains, so many lofty thoughts and sound doctrines, so much wise experience or so much information about bygone ages, distant lands, everyday sayings and demolished empires, as a book. After a digression about the importance of living as a community and helping one another, men’s means of communicating among themselves (a disquisition on speech, writing, etc., occurs at 1,45—see XIX, 3 above), the value of arithmetic and the merits of handwriting, the pen and the hand, the author reverts to books.

[I, 50] . . . For all its smallness and lightness, a book is the medium through which men receive the Scriptures, and also govern¬ ment accounts. Silent when silence is called for, it is eloquent when asked to speak. It is a bedside companion that does not interrupt when you are busy but welcomes you when you have a mind to it, and does not demand forced politeness or compel you to avoid its company. It is a visitor whose visits may be rare, or frequent, or so continual that it follows you like your shadow and becomes a part of you . . . A book is a companion that does not flatter you, a friend that does 10

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not irritate you, [I, 51] a crony that does not weary you, a petitioner that does not wax importunate, a protégé that does not find you slow, and a friend that does not seek to exploit you by flattery, artfully wheedle you, cheat you with hypocrisy or deceive you with lies. A book, if you consider, is something that prolongs your pleasure, sharpens your mind, loosens your tongue, lends agility to your fingers and emphasis to your words, gladdens your mind, fills your heart and enables you to win the respect of the lowly and the friend¬ ship of the mighty. You will get more knowledge out of one in a month than you could acquire from men’s mouths in five years— and that at a saving in expense, in arduous research by qualified persons, in standing on the doorsteps of hack teachers, in resorting to individuals inferior to you in moral qualities and nobility of birth, and in associating with odious and stupid people. A book obeys you by night and by day, abroad and at home; it has no need of sleep, and does not grow weary with sitting up. It is a master that does not fail you when you need him and does not stop teaching you when you stop paying him. If you fall from grace it continues to obey you, and if the wind sets fair for your enemies it does not turn against you. Form any kind of bond or attachment with it, and you will be able to do without everything else; you will not be driven into bad company by boredom or loneliness. Even if its kindness to you and its benevolence towards you con¬ sisted merely in saving you from the tedium of sitting on your door¬ step watching the passers-by—with all the aggravations that posture entails: civilities to be paid, other people’s indiscretions, [I, 52] the tendency to meddle in things that do not concern you, the proximity of the common people, the need to listen to their bad Arabic and their mistaken ideas and put up with their low behaviour and their shocking ignorance—even if a book conferred no other advantage but this, it would be both salutary and profitable for its owner. Jâhiz next retails sayings by various personalities about books, com¬ mends the Manichaeans for taking good care of theirs, and suggests, in connection with some lines by a poet from Basra, that it is best to specialize in two or three subjects but also to acquire a broad general education. Then he praises writing and its uses, considers stone in¬ scriptions, and reverts to the usefulness of writing for preserving texts of all kinds and thus furnishing a permanent record of bygone civiliza¬ tions. Different peoples use different methods for this: the Arabs used poetry, and the Persians buildings. But books are best, since buildings are often demolished by those who come after. Poetry, which is the preserve of the Arabs, is a recent invention; it has the drawback of being un¬ translatable.

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2. Translation and bilingualism [I, 75] . . . The books of the Indians have been construed, the maxims of the Greeks have been translated, and the rules of conduct of the Persians have been rendered into Arabic. Some of these trans¬ lations are superior to the originals, and others have lost nothing in the process; but if the wisdom of the Arabs were to be translated, the marvellous rhythm would completely disappear. Besides, the ideas would all be ideas already expressed by the Persians in their books on wise and sensible living. These books were transmitted from one country to another, from one generation to another and from one language to another until they finally reached us: we are the latest to inherit them and study them. This demonstrates that books are better than buildings or poetry as a permanent record of the glory of a nation. But the translator needs to possess as much literary ability as he does knowledge; he must be familiar with the original language and the language of translation, and have a perfect command of them both. But when we find someone able to speak two languages we can be sure that he corrupts them, for they are bound to influence each other, borrow from each other and distort each other. Besides, how is it possible to have the same mastery of two languages as of one? A man has only one capacity, which he can devote entirely to learning one language, whereas in the case of a polyglot this capacity needs to be split up. These considerations hold good for the translation of all idioms. Moreover the narrower and more difficult of access the door to a subject is, and the fewer specialists there are in it, the harder is the translator’s task and the greater the risk of his making mistakes: for no translator can ever be the equal of one of those scholars. The author says that these considerations apply to scientific works, but even more to books on religion which contain fine shades of meaning and great scope for error. A discussion follows on the rival merits of prose and poetry. After some digressions, Jâhiz comes back to the sub¬ ject of eloquence in writers and books, the noblest being the Koran. He goes on to give an assessment of Abü Hanïfa and some advice to authors, mainly about clarity and conciseness, and then comes to an anecdote about

3. Al-AkhfasJTs books [I, 91] ... I said to Abu al-Hasan al-Akhfash* one day: ‘You are the most learned grammarian alive: why do you not write some

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completely comprehensible books [I, 92]? What is the good of our understanding only a small part, while all the rest is beyond us? And why do you begin with the abstruse ideas and leave more straight¬ forward material to the end?’ He replied: ‘I do not write my books out of love of God: they are not religious works. If I adopted the method you advocate, my readers would have little need of me in order to understand them, whereas my object is to earn money. So I write them partly comprehensible, so that my readers may be stimulated by interest in that which they can understand to seek out the meaning of that which is beyond them; and in this way I earn my living, which is after all my aim. But why ever, pray, do Ibrâhîm al-Nazzâm* and so many others write books out of love of God—or so they say—which are completely incomprehensible even to a man of my intellectual capacity and skill in disputation?’ Jàhiz goes on to speak of prolixity, retails some verses about books, and reverts to the advantages of writing, which makes rapid and de¬ pendable transmission possible. The Greeks considered books the most precious of legacies. He then switches abruptly to animals, more specifically to the defects produced by cross-breeding; and this leads him to the subject of the offspring of masculine women and effeminate men. The effects of castration in man and animals is followed by amus¬ ing anecdotes on this topic. The author then examines the reproductive instinct in human beings, making some penetrating observations about it, reverts to eunuchs, says that females have more appetite than males, goes back again to eunuchs and their voice, hair (with a digression on bearded women), gait and superior intelligence, and the varying effects of their mutilation, then tells some anecdotes and goes on to deal with some physiological questions about reproduction. He returns to the subject of castration among different peoples, explains the method used by the Arabs, and considers the disposition of eunuchs. This brings him to hybrid animals and the longevity they display, and then to some rather more elevated observations on the theme that

4. All tastes are found in nature [I, 141] If there did not exist in every generation and among every nation a few individuals with the urge to discover what goes on in the great world, these nations would perish. These inquisitive individuals are quite likely to become an object of public reproach and contempt for devoting their energies to useless knowledge to the neglect of more profitable occupations. The motive that impels one man to set out to ascertain the life-span of onagers, woodpigeons, snakes and lizards is the same as that which leads another to become a collector

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of vipers and adders, pursuing them and seeking them out in every hill and valley in order to use them to make antidotes, or another to give up being a shepherd of his own accord in order to become a tamer of lions, cheetahs, panthers and tigers. The cause of these variations, the urge that impelled these men to search out this sort of knowledge in its hiding-place and this sort of mystery in its lair, is the same as that which led Ptolemy, notwith¬ standing his royal rank, and many others to devote themselves to the study of the heavens and the observation of the stars and the irregular movement of the planets . . . Next he reverts to hybrid animals, the giraffe, cross-bred birds, etc., then goes on to the animals in Noah’s Ark and marriages between people of different races, alludes again to cross-breeding among animals, notes that cross-breeding does not occur between animals of related species, and reports his observations on the offspring of mixed marriages. The men who live longest are those who drink nabidh (see VIII and IX). Jâhiz reverts to eunuchs, passes on to the lawfulness of castration and then to the branding of animals with red-hot irons, and alludes once more to the virtues and vices of eunuchs. After some remarks on the appeal of everything new and the attraction of whatever one does not possess, he examines the psychology of eunuchs, and then devotes some space to the question of 5. How different social groups show their piety [I, 173] .. . Members of the various social groups each have their own form of piety; for each is compelled to aim [at perfection] and try to improve on his past conduct. The piety of the eunuch takes the form of going on expeditions against the Byzantines (for it was they who mutilated his like), sojourning at Adana and encamping at Tarsus and such places. Physiognomists think this is because the Byzantines, to have mutilated them, must have been enraged with them, and that [I, 174] the eunuchs now seek to take their revenge: it is desire for vengeance that drives them to go off and kill them, and to incur expenditure to any end that may do the Byzantines an injury. The piety of the Khurasan! consists of going on the pilgrimage; that of the Banawl* of leaving the government service; and that of the singer of continually telling his beads, drinking wine the while, of frequently reciting the formula of the Prophet’s blessing, and of joining in public prayer. That of the extreme Shl'ite* consists of pre¬ tending to give up nabidh*', that of the man from the Sawâd* of ab¬ staining only from fortified wine; that of the Jew of keeping the sabbath; and that of the theologian of zeal in excommunicating

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sinners and accusing other people of determinism and Manichaeism, in order to demonstrate several things: firstly, that this attitude is dictated solely by respect for the faith and deep piety; secondly they do this so that people should say: If he were questionable, suspect or tainted he would not accuse other people, but would be content to avoid criticism: therefore, if he accuses people it means that he feels secure in himself, for if there were the slightest risk of arousing suspicion he would be at pains not to lay himself open to attack or bring into the limelight something that, once exposed to view, might have serious consequences for himself. I have always found that the most vicious and depraved of theologians are those who accuse their adversaries of impiety. Jàhiz quotes some verses about eunuchs and some traditions about the castration of animals; and then he reverts to cross-breeds, fabulous beings, and relationships between men and jinns, and recalls the Zoroastrians’ theory of the origins of the universe. He switches abruptly to a lengthy comparison between the dog and the cock, which is interspersed with numerous digressions on such topics as the psychology of the shecat, the she-wolf, the ostrich and even man.

6. Good and evil [I, 204] ... I would have you know that the well-being of the world, from beginning to end, depends on the blending of good and evil, the harmful and the beneficial, the vile and the pleasing, lowliness and loftiness, abundance and scarcity. Pure evil would mean the end of creation. Conversely if good were undiluted, the testing required of us would be meaningless and there would be no need to take thought. Without thought, wisdom ceases to exist, and when there is no longer scope for choice, discrimination disappears; there is no cer¬ tainty in the world, no hesitation, no studying and no science, no finding the path of understanding, no way of overcoming an ob¬ stacle or gaining an advantage; discomforts are no longer bearable and pleasure no longer gratifying; there can be no rivalry in elo¬ quence, no vying for promotion, and the joys of success and pride in victory are done away with. There can no longer exist the righteous man, secure in the strength of truth, nor the wrongdoer sunk in the humiliation of his error, nor the convinced man, happy in his cer¬ tainty, nor the sceptic, filled with the weakness of perplexity and the misery of indecision; there is no hope in men’s hearts, and ambitions strive no more within them; and he who has not known ambition knows not despair, while he who knows not despair knows not peace of mind. Then the angels, quintessence of created beings, and men,

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from whom the prophets and saints are sprung, will all return to the condition of brute beasts, to stupidity and foolishness, to the con¬ dition of the heavenly bodies, subjected to preordained courses, which is a stage lower even than that of grazing animals. For who would be content [I, 205] to be the sun, the moon, fire or snow, a tower or a wisp of cloud or even the whole Milky Way, or a measure of water or a modicum of air? Jâhiz, appearing now in the guise of a humanist, develops the notion that everything in the world is intended for man, the thinking being who judges everything by the test of reason. After various theological con¬ siderations, he criticizes poets for likening man to the sun, the moon, etc., and eventually resumes his train of thought.

7. Man is a microcosm [I, 212] . . . You no doubt know that man, for whom were created the heavens, the earth and that which lies between—as God said: ‘He has subjected to you that which is in the heavens and that which is on earth, all coming from Him’1—has been called a microcosm, the epitome of the macrocosm, simply because he combines in himself elements of everything that is found in the latter. He possesses the five senses and the five sensations; he eats both meat and corn, that is to say the food both [1,213] of domestic animals and of wild beasts; and he displays the fury of the camel, the swiftness of the lion, the treacherousness of the wolf, the cunning of the fox, the cowardice of the nightingale, the parsimony of the ant, the industry of the termite, the generosity of the cock, the sociability of the dog and the navigational skill of the pigeon. Sometimes he even displays two or three of the qualities of wild or domestic animals; but he cannot be said to be a camel because he possesses the camel’s skill in naviga¬ tion, its jealousy, impetuosity, spite or staying-power under load, nor be likened to a wolf because he shares its treacherousness, cunning, sense of smell, ferocity or astuteness ... Man is regarded as a microcosm because he has shown himself capable of making anything with his hands and imitating all sounds with his mouth. It has been said: This is because his organs are apportioned according to the twelve signs of the Zodiac and the seven planets, and because he contains choler derived from fire, melancholy derived from earth, blood derived from air and phlegm derived from water, and his four cardinal humours thus correspond to the four elements. i Koran, XLV, 12/13.

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[I, 214] Man is regarded as a microcosm because he combines all the elements, all the humours and all natural qualities. You no doubt know that he possesses anger and serenity, capacity for doubt and certainty, conviction and hesitation, intelligence and stupidity, art¬ lessness and cunning, honesty and deceit, loyalty and treacherous¬ ness, hypocrisy and frankness, love and hate, jesting and earnest, avarice and generosity, thrift and extravagance, modesty and pride, sociability and shyness, concentration and inattention, discernment and blindness, cowardice and courage, strictness and laxity, wasteful¬ ness and good husbandry, vulgarity and dignity, forethought and trust in God, frugality and greed, desire and indifference, anger and serenity, forbearance and impatience, remembrance and forgetful¬ ness, fear and hope, ambition and despair, integrity and dishonesty, doubt and conviction, modesty and shamelessness, discretion and indiscretion, confession and denial, knowledge and ignorance, in¬ justice and fairness, aggressiveness and timorousness, rancour and quick forgiveness, hotheadedness and resentfulness, gaiety and anxiousness, pleasure and sorrow, hope and desire, persistence and repentance, stubbornness and adaptability, tonguetiedness and elo¬ quence, speech and dumbness, decisiveness and hesitancy, carelessness and prudence, forgiveness and vindictiveness, ability to create his actions and innateness, and innumerable other qualities and defects. While still continuing with his comparison of the dog and the cock, Jàhiz repeats in a different form the passage on piety translated above (5), quotes proverbs, particularly about lions, alludes to various fish and to the hoopoe, and devotes a chapter to cannibals and dog-eaters. He then tells an anecdote in which al-Nazzfim shows scant respect for grammar, and remarks in this context that it is essential when telling anecdotes to preserve the actual language used by the protagonists (see XIX, 5 above). He then explains why night-time is reserved for sleep, proffers some information about metamorphosis in animals (see 30 below), refers to some legends about jinns, and comes to the subject of

8. Murder and retaliation [I, 307]. They say: We have been enjoined to use the sword against a tyrant if the stick does not suffice to deter and punish him, but not wilfully to kill him, our object being merely to prevent his harming us. Should the punishment result in his death, the case is like that of the thief who dies of the amputation of one hand, or the backbiter who succumbs under a scourging. We are enjoined to kill snakes and scorpions in cold blood, even when they are not endangering us, because they belong to a race that can be deadly. But we are only

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justified in using the sword against a tyrant when he actually threatens us, not when he has his back to us, whereas we may kill snakes and scorpions in both situations—just as an infidel may be killed in any position, whether coming towards us or going away. But the killing of an infidel entails at the same time both putting to the test and punishment, whereas that of a snake involves only putting to the test; it would be possible to put the infidel to the test by imprisoning him and so preventing him from doing harm, without needing to kill him. When the tyrant retreats, not intending to return to the attack on a group of people, he should be arrested and imprisoned until it is clear that he has seen the error of his ways. For snakes, wild beasts, gnats and poisonous insects there is only death, whether they threaten us or no. We are authorized to kill any kind of animal that causes [I, 308] so much as a scratch, such as mosquitoes, ants, fleas and lice, and all the more those that wound or kill us. To kill a camel is bad, but good if it is attacking people; to kill a man is forbidden, but lawful when he becomes dangerous. Jàhiz goes straight on to a series of questions which form the basis of The circle and the square (see XXVII above); then he comes back to dogs, gives a list of breeds, and sets out the metaphorical uses of the word ‘dog’; this leads him on to the names Arabs give their children, words that have fallen into disuse, and neologisms, and then to some philological comments. He quotes al-Nazzàm’s opinion of certain traditionists, anecdotes about cadis, criticisms of Abü Hanifa, and verses directed against various animals; examines briefly the reasons for the celebrity or obscurity of Arab tribes and the role played by poetry therein, and reverts to dogs for the remainder of Volume I. The argument about the respective merits of the dog and the cock continues into Volume II, but Jàhiz breaks in from time to time, par¬ ticularly to refute legends.

9. A severe bite [II, 14] ... I once myself witnessed an attack by a dog in my own part of town, when we were at the Koran school. A boy called Mahdl, the butcher’s son, was standing wiping his slate: the dog bit him in the face, and one of its front teeth went in below the left eye and gashed his whole cheek to the bone, leaving a flap of flesh falling over his face to the corner of his mouth; but it missed his eye. My schoolfriend lost so much blood that I did not think he would live. He stood there in a daze, mute with shock and unable to collect himself. Later he had the wound stitched. A month afterwards he came back to school with nothing but a scar on his face to show for it. He had

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

not meanwhile barked or whined like a dog, asked for water and when it came said ‘Take it away’, or pissed things shaped like puppies or leeches: in short, none of the things that are supposed to happen had happened. And yet the schoolmasters who were there at the time all agreed that no madder or more vicious dog could have been found anywhere. This I saw with my own eyes. Jâhiz quotes more traditions and verses about dogs, retails hunting poems by Abü Nuwàs, comments on the verses he has been quoting, and (after some digressions) embarks on a disquisition on

10. Happiness [II, 96] . . . Some say: ‘Happiness in this world is a matter entirely of prosperity, good health and obscurity.’ [II, 97] Others hold a different view, saying: ‘The man endowed with good health and ample means is still left with this dilemma. Either he knows the way of the world or he does not: if he does, then his knowledge makes him speak and act in accordance with what he knows, for knowing and not knowing are two different things, and knowledge not translated into deeds might as well not exist. Words and deeds together consti¬ tute the essentials of renown, so that the most likely thing to happen to a man who knows is that his knowledge will lift him out of ob¬ scurity; and from then on he is exposed to the onslaughts of men who would not scruple to rob him of his wealth.’ Just as knowledge necessarily entails action, so action must take the form either of deeds or of words. Words are only words if there exists someone to whom they are spoken, and deeds are only deeds if there exists someone to whom they are done; it is this that brings the doer out of obscurity and makes him known. If one of the consequences of knowledge is to attract attention, prosperity is even more likely to make its possessors conspicuous and give rise to intrigues against them. Wealth more than anything else leads to backbiting, indebtedness and treachery; it is highly dangerous for its possessor and most baneful for his kinsfolk. The more imperfect a man’s knowledge is, the less he knows where to find happiness; the more perfect it is, the more it dispels ob¬ scurity and brings renown. Those with only a smattering of know¬ ledge and born to mediocrity are unable to understand the advantages of security or the basis of ultimate happiness, and hence [II, 98] cannot see why rich men are averse to notoriety. On the other hand if a man does see why, exactly and completely, then his comprehen¬ sion must be not intuitive but reasoned; and since he cannot under-

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stand this point without also understanding all the learning of his fellow-men, he is certain to emerge from obscurity as a result ... A man of means, possessor of gold and silver, who nevertheless is obscure, must perforce either covet teams of mettlesome horses, rich apparel, lovely [II, 99] slave-girls, fine houses and tasty food, or else be indifferent to all such luxury. If the latter, and if he does not utilize his wealth to prepare his last abode, cares nothing for his reputation, and is one of those for whom pleasure means nothing except the possession of quantities of gold and silver, then he is an ass, or even worse and more stupid than an ass, since he is content to have less enjoyment out of his own wealth than a man who is a steward [of someone else’s]. On the other hand great wealth needs to be rigorously safeguarded against the dangers that threaten it. A man who is careful to protect it, at pains to preserve it and alive to the perils to which it is exposed will reap a profit. A man who fears no danger—except he be actuated simply by trust in God—is as stupid as an ass. A man who supposes that obscurity is the only way of safeguarding his wealth is so stupid that he can have little more enjoyment out of it than an animal that eats leaves. If he buys mettlesome steeds and beautiful slaves of both sexes, takes a splendid house, eats choice food, wears rich apparel, etc., he discloses the fact that he is rich. And those that are rich and let it be known that they own great estates or a thriving business spend as much on safeguarding their possessions as they do openly: otherwise the first thieves that came along would cost them even more. . [II, 100] If by ‘prosperity, good health and obscurity’ is meant a modest sufficiency, then the opinion expressed is a tenable one; but how is it possible to pass unobserved with great wealth? Jâhiz quotes some verses on relative obscurity, reflects on human am¬ bition, and gives his view on the essential part that luck plays in success. The next text throws some light on the author’s aims in writing the

Book of Animals.

11. Creation is proof of the existence of the Creator [II, 109] ... It is not the intrinsic worth of the dog and the cock, their price, their looks or the place they occupy in the hearts of the common people that led us to write this dissertation and give it pride of place in our book. We are not concerned with their price in gold or silver, nor with their value in the eyes of men; rather are we

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thinking about the proofs of His existence that God put into these creatures, the perfection of His art. His wondrous dispositions and His subtle wisdom, the amazing understanding He instilled into them, the mysteries He implanted in them and the tremendous ad¬ vantages He bestowed upon them, thus demonstrating that He who made all these dispositions for them and vouchsafed them this wis¬ dom wishes us to think on these two creatures and take them for an object lesson and a reason for praising God. He covered the out¬ sides of their bodies with His testimony and filled the inside with wisdom, and made us to think and learn the lesson, so that every man endowed with reason may know that God did not create His creation to no purpose, and did not abandon His creatures to their fate; that he overlooked nothing, left nothing without its distinctive mark, nothing in disorder or unprotected; that He makes no mis¬ takes in His wondrous farsightedness and no detail of His dis¬ positions fails him, nor yet the beauty of wisdom and the glory of the powerful proof. [II, 110] All of that activity extends to everything from the louse and the butterfly to the seven celestial spheres and the seven climates of the globe. God said: ‘And he creates [more yet] that you know not of’2, a verse capable of several interpretations, of which the following is one: there exist certain species of animals whose place in the scheme of things is unknown to most people, but these creatures must per¬ force understand their own purpose, unless it be only the élite of God’s soldiers and angels who know, or else the prophets or certain privileged persons. That is the only plausible interpretation. It is also conceivable that God meant that He had created prime movers and added secondary ones as the stay and buttress of that which appears to the eye. A commentator used to say: In order to understand the meaning of God’s saying ‘And he creates [more yet] that you know not of’, all you need do is light a fire in the middle of a clump of trees or in the desert and watch all the various insects that converge on it; then you will see creatures and shapes that you never imagined God had created. Moreover the creatures that come towards the fire vary according to whether it is a case of a clump of trees, the sea or the mountains. This will demonstrate that the unknown kinds are more numerous [II, 111] and more peculiar. I do not reject this interpre¬ tation, for in my view it falls within the general compass of the mean¬ ing of the verse in question. He who says otherwise knows nothing of his Lord and understands nothing of religion. 2 Koran, XVI, 8.

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Jàhiz next gives instances of animals born by spontaneous generation, and other thought-provoking cases; and demonstrates the diversity of the animal kingdom and its resources.

12. A child saved by a bitch [II, 155] ... A certain house having been ravaged by the plague, the neighbours were convinced that there was no one left alive in it. Now there was a baby in that house, not yet weaned nor able to stand upright: it crawled on all fours. One of the neighbours who had sur¬ vived went and shut the door of the house. Some months later, one of the family’s heirs came to the house; he opened the door and went inside into the courtyard, and was amazed to find a baby playing with [II, 156] the puppies of a bitch that had belonged to the owners of the house. He was dumbfounded. A few moments later the bitch appeared: when the baby saw her, it crawled over to her and began to suck her dugs, which the animal offered to it. The baby, left alone and forgotten in the house, must have felt hungry, and seeing the puppies being suckled by their mother have crawled over to the bitch, which obligingly placed herself so as to allow it to suck. Having once given it suck she continued in the same way, and the baby like¬ wise. Presumably He who gave the newborn infant the idea of sucking its thumb at the moment of its birth, before it knew how to suck a teat, must also have showed it the way to the bitch’s dugs. Were divine direction not everywhere in nature, it would not have sucked its thumb or the nipple of the dug; but when its hunger became press¬ ing, its situation critical and its natural needs paramount, then this natural trait that was in it, this instinct, this innate knowledge, im¬ pelled it to seek and find [the bitch]. Praise be to Him that planned, inspired, created and showed forth all this! The author relates an anecdote concerning pigeons, then reverts to dogs, which the Asad eat, tells various other anecdotes, gives a com¬ mentary on some verses of the Koran, comes back to dogs again, and goes off into a digression on 13. Drunkenness [II, 225] ... As to drunkenness, no animal species is immune from it, but it has divers manifestations, as in man. Some people go on talking while they drink, seeming perfectly normal, and then are suddenly overcome by drowsiness; [II, 226] others on the other hand exhibit the effects of drink progressively: their movements become

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gradually slower and their senses duller and more blurred, until drunkenness makes them do frivolous things and they are overcome by drowsiness; others go as far as the frivolous stage but no further; and others again are satisfied with nothing less than drawing their sword, striking their mother or divorcing their wife. Some start weeping and others laughing; others take to flattery, become anxious to sacrifice themselves for the good of humanity, embrace the other people present and kiss the other guests on the head. Others dance and skip about, but these fall into two classes: one does it out of exuberance and irrepressible high spirits, the other because their bile is beginning to flow, giving rise to serious disturbances and dis¬ orders. All these situations, patterns, categories and types . . . are met with in all human and animal species, but there is one case that is only found in man, never in animals: the man who is never drunk . . . notably Abü 'Abd Allah al-'Ammï. [II, 227] The sons of 'Abd al-Malik al-Ziyâdï invited me to their house one day to show me the phenomenal al-'Ammï; but they did not warn me beforehand about this special ability of his, so that I might find it out for myself. When I entered I found an uncouth, corpulent fellow, coarse in his speech and ideas . . . The company drank as much as fat camels; they were men of hideous build, with enormous paunches. I was there merely as a spectator. Al-'Ammï drank bottle after bottle; and as he drank his tongue was loosened, his intellect liberated, his mind cleared and his coarseness dis¬ appeared. It would be no exaggeration to say that I have never known a more delightful person. The others turned to me and said: ‘Were it not for this phenomenon we would not have invited you to witness this peculiar spectacle, not having known you very long.’ [II, 228] Al-'Ammï was very fond of lawsuits before cadis. He used to say that when he drank about ten bottles before opening the case against his opponents, that was when he most easily defeated them by the brilliance of his arguments and won over the cadi sitting motionless in his seat, his face impassive to both sides. Jâhiz explains how the Mu'tazilites found out that animals are subject to drunkenness; and this gives him the opportunity of painting a

14. Portrait of al-Nazzâm [II, 229] . . . Ibrâhîm* was a man of his word, and guilty of little wrong or unfairness in the realms of frankness and truthfulness. When I say that he was guilty of little wrong or unfairness, I do not

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mean that he was guilty of it, albeit only a little: I use the expression in the same way as one says: ‘So-and-so has little modesty’, which certainly does not mean that he is modest; for the word ‘little’ is sometimes used in the sense of ‘none at all’. His one incorrigible fault was his mistrust and the nicety of his reasoning about the accidental, [II, 230] the spontaneous and the unreliable precedent. If instead of perfecting the reasoning he had endeavoured to perfect the founda¬ tion on which he based it [, he would have been faultless]. He tended, however, to make an assumption and build an argument on it, forgetting that his starting-point was nothing but an assumption. When he had constructed the complete edifice and reached a con¬ clusion, he would become dogmatic and state the conclusion on the authority of its originator, as though it were something of whose authenticity he had satisfied himself. But he was not in the habit of saying ‘I saw’ or ‘I heard’. If he stated anything in the form of apodeictic evidence, the hearer could be sure that he was reporting some¬ thing he had himself positively and directly heard or personally and vividly witnessed. The comparison between the dog and the cock continues.

15. The use of dogs by the ‘Stranglers' [II, 264] . . . One of the useful purposes of the dog is the following. The Stranglers work together, never go anywhere alone, and always travel in groups. [II, 265] Sometimes they own a row of houses, or even a whole street; but they are careful only to take up their abode in a street that has an alternative exit and where the houses back on to waste ground, gardens, rubbish dumps, etc. In their houses they have dogs on leads, tambourines and drums, and they always station at the entrance a member of their group who is a master at a Koran school. When the people in one of the houses strangle someone, the women play their tambourines, the men beat the dogs, and the schoolmaster, hearing [the signal], shouts to the children: ‘Read, at the tops of your voices!’ The people in the other houses respond to the uproar by playing their tambourines and castanets after the manner of countrywomen, and exciting their dogs, until the point is reached where even if the victim [had a voice as loud as] a donkey, none would hear his screams. The author gives more details about the ‘Stranglers’ and the Shi'ites, and alludes to the question of suicide; then he reverts to the dog and the cock, using technical terminology of some interest. In passing he examines certain animal traits, notably

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16. The cunning of the fox and of the dog [II, 289] . . . One of my friends told me the following anecdote, which he heard from a relation of his who was a hunter. How amaz¬ ing, he said, is the cunning of the fox! It distinguishes between the hound and its master, and uses tricks with the latter which it knows are likely to work, but does not use the same tricks with the hound, which can tell the difference between death and a feint. It would be pointless for it to sham death with the hound. This is why Zoroastrians never take a corpse to the funeral pyre without first bringing a dog along to look at it: the animal, shown an unconscious body, knows whether it is dead or alive, and indicates it by reactions which the Zoroastrians know how to interpret. [II, 290] I came upon a fox one day in a narrow passage, relates this hunter; one of my children was with me. The animal was dead and swollen. I walked on, but soon the dogs caught up with me, and when the fox heard them coming it leapt up in a flash, having been shamming dead by the side of the road. I spoke to people with experience, and they told me that this is a well-known phenomenon: the fox lies on the ground with its legs in the air and puffs out its body, so that anyone seeing it is convinced it has been dead some time, its body being swollen with air. Still full of amazement at this phenomenon, I went on down the street . . . and saw a starving and emaciated puppy that had been beaten by some boys and had one of its legs broken; it had got away from them, reached this street and lain down at the foot of a pillar. The boys had followed it and were going to set upon it again, but it shammed dead; they kicked it, but it did not move, and they went away. When they had gone, I saw it quickly open and close an eye; then when the boys were some distance away and it felt safe, it ran off in the opposite direction—quite eclipsing the admiration I had conceived for the fox. The fox in fact has only cunning and slyness; but the dog can equal its cleverest tricks, and has other qualities in addition. It is true that the fox can pride itself on its fur, which is used by man; but dog dirt is highly efficacious for stab wounds, and stab wounds are known to be mortal, whereas there are other things that can take the place of fox fur. The author quotes verses about various animals, and brings in crows, sparrows and chickens; on the subject of the latter he tells the following story: 17. The sharing out of the chickens [II, 357]... A Bedouin who had settled at Basra* told me the following story. A Bedouin arrived from the desert, and I offered

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him hospitality. I had a well-stocked hen-house, a wife, two sons and two daughters. I said to my wife: ‘Go quickly and roast a chicken and give it to us for lunch.’ When lunchtime arrived we all sat down, my wife, my two sons, my two daughters, the Bedouin and I; and then we put the chicken in front of the Bedouin and said to him: ‘Share it out amongst us’, meaning to make fun of him. ‘I do not know how to’, he replied, ‘but if you will accept my way of sharing it out I will try.’ We agreed. He took the head, cut it off and gave it to me, saying: ‘The head for the head of the family.’ Then he cut off the wings and said: ‘The two wings [II, 358] for the two boys.’ Next he cut off the legs and said: ‘The two legs for the two girls’; and finally he cut off the parson’s nose and said: ‘The parson’s nose for the old woman’3, adding: ‘The breast for the guest.’ In this way he kept nearly all the fowl for himself, and the joke was at our expense. Next day I said to my wife: ‘Roast us five chickens.’ When lunch¬ time arrived, I said to the Bedouin: ‘Share them out amongst us.’ T have an idea’, he replied, ‘that you are offended.’ ‘Not at all: share them out.’ ‘Would you like me to do it by even numbers or odd?’ ‘By odd numbers.’ ‘You, your wife and one fowl’, he said, ‘makes three’, and he passed us one chicken. ‘Your two sons and one fowl makes three’, and he passed them one. ‘Your two daughters and one fowl makes three’, and he passed them another one. Lastly, ‘Myself and two fowls makes three’, he said, taking two chickens; and the joke was at our expense. Seeing us eyeing his share, he exclaimed; ‘What are you looking at? Perhaps you are not content with my way of sharing them out, but by odd numbers that is the only possible result. Would you rather it were done by even numbers?’ We agreed, and he took all the chickens back in front of him. ‘You, your two sons and one fowl’, he said, ‘makes four’, and he passed us a chicken: ‘the old woman, her two daughters and one fowl makes four’, and he passed them one; ‘and myself and three fowls makes four’, and he took the remaining three chickens. Then he lifted his hands to heaven and cried: ‘Praise be to Thee, O God, for Thou hast inspired me.’ These anecdotes are followed by verses about the dog and the cheetah, and by more stories, notably the following:

18. Sahl b. Hanoi and his chicken [II, 374] . . . Di'bil* tells the following story. We stayed some time at Sahl b. Hàrün’s house, but we almost died of starvation. At our pressing request he instructed his slave to give us some lunch, but all 3 There is a pun in the Arabic.

11

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we were brought was a dish of gravy in which floated the meat of a tough old cock: knives would not cut it, and our teeth made no im¬ pression on it. Sahl peered at the dish from every side, and then took a piece of dry bread and fished around in the gravy to find the head. He thought for a moment, then turned to the slave and cried: ‘Where is the head?’ ‘I threw it away.’ ‘Why did you throw it away?’ ‘I did not think you would eat it.’ ‘And why did you think I would not eat it? By God, I despise people who throw away so much as the claws, let alone those who throw away the head! Even [II, 375] superstition alone would give me sufficient grounds for abhorring what you have done. The head is the leader and contains the senses, and it is with its head that the cock crows: without its crowing it would not be prized. The head carries the comb, from which a blessing is to be had. The eye is proverbial: do we not speak of ‘wine like a cock’s eye’? The brain is a sovereign remedy for kidney trouble; and I know no bones that melt in the mouth like the bones of a cock’s head. Since you thought I would not eat it, it might have occurred to you that the women would eat it. If you are too high and mighty to eat it yourself, there are people in the house for whom it would do well. Do you not realize that it is better than the wingtip, the thigh or the neck? Go and find it.’ ‘By God, I do not know where I threw it away.’ T do not doubt that you threw it away in your stomach, but God will require an account of it from you!’ The beginning of the third volume is supposed to be devoted to pigeons, but Jâhiz opens with a statement of his position as regards jokes, and tells stories of which the following is a sample:

19. Anecdote [III, 35] ... I was sitting one day with Dâwüd b. al-Mu'tamir alSubairi when a beautiful woman went by, dressed in white; she had a lovely face and figure, and wonderful eyes. Dâwüd got to his feet [III, 36], and since I was sure he was going to follow her, I sent my slave to see what happened. When Dâwüd came back, I said to him: T know that you got up to go and speak to her; it is useless to lie, and your denials will not hold water. I merely wish to know how you accosted her and what you said to her’ (though I fully expected him to embroider some fantastic exploit for me, as he was wont). T accosted her’, he replied, ‘with these words: “Had I not espied in you the stamp of virtue, I should not have followed you.” She burst out laughing, and laughed so much that she had to lean against the wall, then replied: “So it is the stamp of virtue that gives a man like

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you the impudence to follow and lust after a woman like me? To say that it is virtue manifest that makes men brazen really is the absolute limit!” ’ 20. The atom [III, 37] . . . One of our friends questioned Abü Luqmân, the fool, about the ‘indivisible particle’ (i.e. the atom). ‘The atom’, he replied, ‘is 'Ali b. Abî Talib*.’ Abü al-'Ainà’* [III, 38] asked him: ‘Are there no other atoms in the world?’ ‘Indeed there are: Hamza* and Ja'far*.’ ‘What about al-'Abbas*?’ ‘He is an atom.’ ‘What do you say about Abü Bakr* and 'Umar*?’ ‘Abü Bakr is divisible and 'Umar is di¬ visible.’ ‘And 'Uthmàn*?’ ‘He is doubly divisible, and so is al-Zubair*.’ ‘And what do you say about Mu'âwiya*?’ ‘He is indivisible.’ We wondered what on earth Abü Luqmân meant by calling the imam 'All an atom; and eventually we came to the conclusion that he must have heard theologians talking about the ‘indivisible particle’, and been impressed by this and supposed that it was a cardinal term in philosophy and that anything really important was described as an atom. After various remarks on style, which must suit the subject-matter, and on the use of improper expressions (see XLYII below), the author quotes curious verses on a variety of subjects, alludes to physiognomy, reverts to verses chosen for their conciseness (but unconnected with animals), and eventually embarks on the topic of pigeons. He lists the different species and their characteristics, examines their psychology, and notes their similarities to man. There are also a certain number of digressions. 21. Noah's dove [III, 195] .. . The champion of pigeons says: Arabs, Bedouins and poets all agree that it was a dove that served as guide and scout to Noah; and it was that dove that asked God, as its reward [III, 196], for the necklace which its like wear round their necks. God granted it this privilege and vouchsafed it this adornment at Noah’s instance, when the bird returned bearing a vine-shoot, its feet all covered with mud and clay; as recompense for the clay it received the privilege of having feet of a distinctive colour, and for its obedience and its reconnaissance work for Noah it received the necklace that adorns its neck. Verses and discussion about the necklace are followed by more verses and a dissertation on the pedigree of pigeons.

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22. The price of pigeons [III, 212] . . . Pigeons have such a high intrinsic value and such superiority that a single bird may sell for 500 dinars', no other animal can command such a price, neither the goshawk, the peregrine falcon, the saker, the eagle, the pheasant, the cock, the camel, the ass or the mule. And if we were to search for a tradition to the effect that a horse, either ordinary or thoroughbred, had sold for 500 dinars, we would only find it in after-dinner stories. Conversely all that is necessary in order to ascertain the market price of a perfect specimen of a pigeon is to go to Baghdad or Basra*. You will find that a young male pigeon of good pedigree will fetch 20 dinars or more, a female 10 dinars or more, and an egg 5 dinars. A pair of pigeons is as pro¬ ductive as a landed estate; indeed, it will cover the living expenses of a family and bring in enough to allow it to pay off its debts, build fine houses and buy highly profitable shops. At the same time it is a wonderful hobby, a pleasing sight, an education for thinking men and a clue for those given to looking into [things]. [Ill, 213] The traveller [who visits the neighbourhood of Antioch is bound to admire] the pigeon-houses there, and the care that goes into [the keeping of pigeons]. He will find that pigeon-fanciers spend enormous sums in connection with the releasing of carrier pigeons: they carry them on their backs after transporting them by boat, shut them up in houses, separate and reunite them at the appropriate times, take the females far away from the males, put the males with other females, and are at pains to avoid the ill-effects of close inbreeding, while at the same time keeping away any alien individuals that might adulterate the strain; for if an ordinary cock pigeon [III, 214] breeds with a female, he takes a share in the offspring to be, and degeneracy occurs, for the egg is fertilized by the cock. They are less solicitous for the wombs of their own wives than for those of hen pigeons that yield thoroughbred chicks. The sight of pigeonfanciers releasing their pigeons at the appointed spot, training them to home on men wearing particular marks, showing themselves frank, loyal and far removed from untruth and deceit, taking advice from experts and men of specialized knowledge, paying [their assistants] high salaries, and selecting loyal, patient, gentle, clearsighted, welleducated men to carry their pigeons about makes the champions of the dog and the cock realize that they cannot enter for this contest or compete with people like that. Jàhiz continues his disquisition on pigeons, including the techniques of breeding and rearing them and their characteristics; then he examines

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and analyses the gait of quadrupeds, and movements in man, and specu¬ lates on 23. How to receive extraordinary tales [III, 238] . . . Most people, when they hear an extraordinary story, adopt one of two attitudes: either they turn up their noses at it and make no attempt to understand it, or else they disbelieve the narrator and call him a liar, at the same time sedulously attacking those who scrutinize and carefully investigate the extraordinary facts with the aim of learning something from them. The former consider their scepticism to be a sign of superiority, the mark of a cautious mind and an index of their appreciation of the heinousness of lying and of their keen desire for the truth, and think that the habit of agreeing and accepting is very bad. Now the truth that God has ordained, and that he inspires and urges men to seek out, compels us to reject two types of stories: those that are inconsistent and implausible, and those that are contrary and beyond the capacity of created things. When a story does not fall into either of these two categories, and so can be re¬ garded as possible, then the facts should be carefully scrutinized, [III, 239] let truth be the only guide and authenticity the sole aim, whatever the circumstances, pleasant or unpleasant. Nobody who does not know that the rewards of truth and the fruits of integrity are more worthwhile than personal prejudices is likely to give critical scrutiny its proper due. Jâhiz continues with the subject of pigeons, quoting verses and men¬ tioning criticisms brought against the bird. In passing he makes some observations on 24. The Arabs’ knowledge of zoology [III, 268] . . . We rarely hear of a statement by a philosopher on natural history, or come across a reference to the subject in books by doctors or dialecticians, without finding an identical passage in Arab and Bedouin poetry, or in the everyday wisdom of those who speak our language and belong to our religious community. I would go into all that, were it not for fear of making my book too long. An account of the selection and training of pigeons, and their diseases, leads the author to examine the question of specialization carried o extremes; and in this contest he retails a 25. Dialogue with a carpenter [III 276] . . . An exactly similar opinion was expressed by a car¬ penter, whom I had sent for to hang a door made of costly wood. It

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is difficult’, I said to him, ‘to hang a door properly, and not one carpenter in a hundred makes a perfect job of it. Some are renowned for making ceilings and domes and yet do not know how to hang a door, though the majority of people would think ceilings and domes more difficult. There are other examples of this: slaves, whether men or women, make an excellent job of roasting a lamb or a kid whole, but cannot roast a quarter of one, though to the uninitiated it would seem easier to roast a part than the whole.’ You are absolutely right’, he replied, ‘and I see that you are a craftsman yourself. Now that I see that you know what’s what, it would be wrong for me to botch my work.’ He hung the door perfectly. Then I realized that I had no ring to fix on the outside, but since I wished to close this door [without delay], I said to the carpenter: T do not want to keep you waiting while my slave goes to the market [III, 277] and back, but drill the hole for [the shank of] the ring.’ When he had drilled the hole and been paid his wages, he turned to me as he was on the point of leaving and said: T have made the hole, but you must find another carpenter to fit the handle, for one false blow with the hammer could split the door, which would be a dreadful pity.’ I realized then that he knew his trade. The author reverts to pigeons, and tells some anecdotes; then he goes on to flies, seeing in everything 26. Evidence of the existence of God [III, 298] ... I charge you, reader anxious for understanding or listener lending an attentive ear, never despise a thing because of its small size or disdain an object because of its modest price. ^ [III, 299] . . . I would have you know that a pebble proves the existence of God just as much as a mountain, and the human body is evidence as strong as the universe that contains our world: for this purpose the small and slight carries as much weight as the great and vast. Things do not differ in their essence: it is men’s minds that disagree about them, while superficial thinkers do not perceive the points of difference or the lines of demarcation. The causes of disagreement are that people do not investigate t nngs, or else investigate them from the wrong point of view; that confusion finds its way into some of their premises; and that they misinterpret things, so invalidating their investigation. . That ,is tlle most important factor in this connection, except for incapacity and defectiveness, with which we have not dealt; for faulty understanding due to physical disability is another matter.

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We have spoken of truth and error, of inadequacy and perfection: take care not to misjudge an animal species because of its ugly appearance or ill-proportioned frame, or because it is not beautiful or of little use or value. For something which you consider of little use may be extremely beneficial: even if this is not always true in terms of immediate advantage, [III, 300] it may be so in terms of things to come that appertain to our spiritual life. The rewards and penalties of spiritual life are durable, whereas the benefits of this world are perishable and ephemeral; that is why the next world sur¬ passes this one. When you see an animal that is of no help to man, or that does not know how to make itself useful, or is downright dangerous and to be guarded against, such as vipers, wolves with their long fangs, lions and panthers with their sharp claws, or scorpions and wasps with their pointed stings, remember that their usefulness lies in their having been sent to try us, and in the reward promised by God to the longsuffering and to those who understand Him and know that free will and testing could not exist in a world that was all good or all bad. These conditions can only be fulfilled by a combination of the horrible and the pleasing, the painful and the kindly, the despised and the honoured, the secure and the perilous. If the happiest fate is attained through testing and free will, through which man can come close to God and enjoy His everlasting bounty, and if this can only come about in a world in which [III, 301] good and bad are mixed, usefulness and harmfulness combined, and ease and difficulty blended, then it should be clear why the creation of the scorpion is valuable and that of the snake purposeful. You ought not to despise the midge, the butterfly, the ant or the fly, but rather stop and think about the general point I am putting to you. Then you will multiply God’s praises for the creation of the minutest insects and of poisonous and carnivorous animals, as you praise Him for creating your daily bread out of water and air. If you must disdain and despise, persecute and belittle, then turn to jinns and men and despise those of them that have committed despic¬ able acts worthy of loathing in the one case and contempt in the other. You cannot be blamed for loathing two sorts of animals and finding them inherently objectionable: those that are deadly poison¬ ous, and those that kill by violent assault. But remember that their Creator did not create them in order to harm you, but so that by enduring the harm they do you and showing patience you might achieve a state of grace that you could not otherwise attain. [Ill, 302] Patience can only be exercised in the face of some calamity that befalls

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you: whether it be an attack by a wild beast or a mortal illness, the result for you is the same. In the course of a disquisition on flies, interlarded with proverbs and verses, Jàhiz interpolates a well-known passage in which his skill as a story-teller comes to the fore.

27. The cadi and the fly [III, 343] There can never have been a magistrate as sedate, com¬ posed, dignified, impassive, self-controlled or precise in his move¬ ments as a cadi we had at Basra* called 'Abd Allah b. Sawwdr*. He used to say the morning prayer at home, though he lived quite near the mosque, and then go to his court, where he would wrap his robes around him and sit down without supporting himself on any¬ thing as he did so. He sat bolt upright and stock still, neither turning round in his seat, opening his coat, crossing his legs or leaning on either arm of the chair; he was like a statue. He would remain thus until the noon prayer compelled him to rise, then sit down again and take up the same posture until the time of the afternoon prayer; having accomplished that, he would remain motionless until sunset, when he would get up, say his prayers, and sometimes (what am I saying? often, rather) return to his seat and deal with a multitude of deeds, contracts and miscellaneous docu¬ ments. Then he would say his evening prayer and go home. If the truth be told, he never once got up [ni, 344] to go to the lavatory during the whole of his tenure of office: he did not need to, since he never felt like a drink of water or other beverage. Such was his rou¬ tine all the year round, winter and summer, whether the days were long or short. He never so much as lifted his hand or inclined his head, but limited himself to moving his lips. One day, when his assessors and the public had taken their places beside him, in front of him and in the galleries, a fly settled on his nose. It lingered there awhile, and then moved to the corner of his eye' ^ it alone and endured its biting, just as he had armed him¬ self with patience when it settled on his nose, neither twitching his nostrils, shaking his head or waving it away with a finger. However, since the fly was becoming really persistent, causing him acute pain and moving towards a spot where it was beyond bearing, he blinked his eyelid. The fly did not go away. This persistence drove him to ink repeatedly, whereupon the fly moved away until the eyelid stopped moving, then returned to the corner of the eye even more fiercely than before and stuck its sting into an already sore spot. The

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cadi’s endurance [III, 345] was weakening and his irritation growing: he blinked harder and more rapidly. The fly went away for a moment, then settled again and became so persistent that our cadi, his patience completely at an end, was reduced to driving it away with his hand. Everyone in court was watching this and pretending not to see it. The fly went away until he dropped his hand, then returned to the charge and compelled him to protect his face with the hem of his sleeve, not once but several times. The magistrate realized that no detail of this scene was escaping his assessors and the public. When he caught their eye, he exclaimed: T swear the fly is more persistent than the cockroach and more pre¬ sumptuous than the crow! God forgive me! How many men are infatuated with their own persons! But God acquaints them with their hidden weakness! Now I know I am but a weakling, seeing that God’s most feeble creature has vanquished and confounded me!’ Then he recited this verse: ‘And if the fly should rob them of aught, the gods of the idolaters would be unable to restore it to them. Wor¬ shipper and idol are both powerless.’4 Still on the subject of flies and their reproduction and resurrection, Jdhiz recounts the following: 28. The man who was brought back to life [III, 349] . . . Ibn Abl Karima said: T swear I will never bury a corpse until it begins to smell!’ ‘How so?’ I asked. ‘My slave Nusair, whom you see here, died; and I postponed his burial for some reason or other. That evening his brother came to see me, and said: “I do not believe my brother is dead.” Then he made two large wicks and soaked them in oil, lit them, snuffed them out and put them under the dead man’s nose. Before long he stirred, and now is here with us, as you see.’ ‘Soldiers, layers-out and doctors’, I added, ‘have signs and indications that they use in this matter, and one should never take the responsibility of burying a dead man until his corpse turns to carrion. [Ill, 351] The Zoroastrians make a dog sniff the corpse, and thus find out what the situation is.’ He reverts to the spontaneous generation of flies, and tells more anecdotes. 29. An unscrupulous alchemist [III, 385] I heard Abü Hukaim the alchemist say to Thumàma b. Ashras*: ‘We told you we could take you to the philosophers’ stone, 4 Koran, XXII, 72/73.

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but you decided it would be too expensive for you, and that you would rather enjoy its benefits without spending a penny. Then we offered to build you unsinkable bridges of boats, but you declined. Next we said to you: “What use are these dykes of yours, that get washed away by floods and broken down by boathooks? We will build dykes for you at half the price that will last you [III, 386] for eternity, though you bid the floods and the boathooks do their worst”; but you re¬ fused. Tell me, what use are flies to you? What do you expect to gain from mosquitoes and midges? Why not let me rid your house of them for a modest fee?’ Our friends laughed when he said this, but Ibn Sâfirï listened attentively. When we went down the steps, he took Abü Hukaim by the arm and led him to his own house. There he gave him something to eat and drink, made him a present of some clothing, and then said: T should like you to rid my house of mosquitoes; flies I can tolerate.’ ‘Why endure the annoyance of them, when God has given you the means to be rid of them?’ ‘Very well, go ahead.’ T shall need to mix certain chemicals and purchase certain prepara¬ tions.’ ‘How much will you want?’ ‘Not much.’ ‘How much?’ ‘Fifty dinars*.’’ ‘You scoundrel! You call fifty dinars not much?’ [Ill, 387] ‘So you do not want to be rid of filthy flies and mosquitobites?’ And he put on his sandals and stood up. ‘Sit down’, said Ibn Sâfirï. ‘If I sat down without receiving the fifty dinars, and later bought a hundred dinars worth of chemicals, they would not work. I only carry out this fumigation for people who agree without hesita¬ tion when I suggest “getting them out”. I will not hide my secret from you: I rely exclusively on “the familiars” (i.e. jinn).’ Hardly had he uttered the last word when Ibn Sâfirï, in a panic, sent for a purse and went to weigh out the dinars. ‘Save yourself all that trouble’, cried Abü Hukaim, ‘and count them out to me, instead of weighing them’: for he was afraid lest some unexpected interruption might distract Ibn Sâfirï and deprive him of the dinars. Ibn Sâfirï counted them out, but in his fright he made a mistake of ten. When Abü Hukaim was gone he weighed and counted the [rest of the] dinars, and discovered that he was short. Early next morning he went to recover the difference from Abü Hukaim, but the latter burst out laughing, and said: [III, 388] ‘You ask me for the branch when the root has been destroyed!’ Ibn Sâfirï continued to go and call on him, but the fellow was evasive, so that Thumâma said to the victim: ‘You must be mad; the money is gone, but you have no witness to the trick he played on you. If you drag him before a judge, you will only lose face and earn the hostility of a devil who I dare swear is more dangerous than your “familiars” at home—who even have difficulty in casting out entrenched flies and mosquitoes.’ ‘They are my

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“familiars” and neighbours’, he replied. ‘Had Abü Hukaim heard you say that’, they said, ‘he would have asked not fifty dinars but a hundred!’ From flies the author goes on to crows and then to various insects, which occupy the remainder of Volume III. Volume IV starts with ants, though these are soon abandoned in favour of other animals, notably monkeys and pigs, in which connec¬ tion legends about animal metamorphosis are introduced. 30. Metamorphosed creatures [IV, 68] . . . We hear differing views about metamorphosed creatures. Some say that they do not reproduce themselves, and only live long enough to serve as an example and a lesson and bear witness [to divine omnipotence]. Others say that they have a normal life-span and reproduce themselves, and even regard lizards, jirris*, hares, dogs and other animals as the descendants of metamorphosed peoples who have taken on this animal likeness. They say the same about snakes . . . [IV, 70] On metamorphosis itself opinions are equally di¬ vided, and materialists are split into two camps on the question. Some reject metamorphosis, but accept the swallowing up of things by the earth (khasf ), tornadoes and floods, regarding khasf as similar to an earthquake; they say they are prepared to believe in stoning through the medium of large hailstones, but that stones cannot come out of the sky. They add: We can only accept things that the community unanimously believes happen in the world—and consequently they completely disbelieve in metamorphosis. The others say: We do not deny that in particular areas the air may become so foul that earth and water are tainted in their turn, and in the long run this affects the people’s constitution, [IV, 71] as happened with the Zanj*, the Slavs and the peoples of Gog and Magog. We have seen how Bedouin Arabs shed their bedouinity when they settled in Khurasan, and how Turkish soil imprints Turkish characteristics on camels, beasts of burden and all other animals, both wild and domestic. Locusts and their larvae that live on greenery and fragrant plants become green, but turn another colour against a different background. Lice are black on the head of a young man with black hair, white on that of a hoary old man, grey in grizzled hair and camel-coloured on a dun animal; they are red on the head of a man with dyed hair, but as the dye wears off they turn an intermediate pinkish shade. The Harra* of the Banü Sulaim* and all men, wild beasts, domes¬ tic animals, birds and insects that live in that part of the world are black.

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[IV, 72] Countless people have informed me that they have seen Nabataeans from Baisân with tails, if not as long as those of croco¬ diles, lions, oxen or horses, then at least comparable to those of tortoises or large rats. In fact these men have an elongated coccyx resembling a tail. We have come across Nabataean sailors on some boats that had the faces of monkeys, just as we have met Maghribis who were only infinitesimally different from metamorphosed animals. It may be that people who look like these Maghribis and Naba¬ taeans are affected by this foul air, this unwholesome water and this bad soil; in their ignorance they have not emigrated, being too attached to their own country and their homes to go elsewhere. In the long run their environment has made their hair darker, their tails longer, the complexions of some of them paler and the faces of some of them more like monkeys. But, they say, we are not sure, and have no irrefutable traditions to show, that the place where the people have become like pigs is the same as that where another people have become like monkeys. It may be that these metamorphoses have been brought about in one case under the influence of the North wind and in the other under that [IV, 73] of the South; they may have happened at the same time, or been separated by a long interval. We do not reject metamorphosis if it takes place under these con¬ ditions; for being consistent with the laws of nature and normal evolution, it does not run contrary to our views—though it lends no support to yours. To this Abü Ishâq [al-Nazzâm*] replies: What you say is not absurd, and it is undeniable that extraordinary things happen in the world. Metamorphosis falls into the category of miracles, signs and tokens vouchsafed to men; yet we only know about it through the medium of men. Otherwise what you say would not be impossible; but if metamorphosis happens in the way that you suggest, it would be a better proof for us if a prophet had told us about it or prayed God to bring it about. After some comments about the prohibition on pork, and a theological discussion about the hoopoe, the author switches abruptly to snakes.

31. Vipers' eyes [IV, 116] .. . According to Muhammad b. al-Jahm*, the animals whose eyes shine in the dark like lamps are lions, panthers, cats and vipers. Once when we were at his house there arrived one of those

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men who import vipers from Sijistân in order to manufacture the antidote and sell the reptiles, either dead or alive. ‘Tell us’ he said to him, ‘your story about a viper’s eye.’ ‘Certainly. I had collected up some vipers’ heads [IV, 117] to throw them away, but I overlooked one underneath the bed. When I was asleep in the dark, I happened to open one eye and glance towards the bed: and there I saw a very faint gleam. ‘It is the eye of a ghoul or some ogress’s child’, I said to myself, and was lost in wonderment. So I got up, struck a light, picked up a lamp, and went over to the bed—beneath which I found nothing but a viper’s head. I put out the lamp and went back to sleep, but the next time I opened an eye the gleam was there again. I got up again and did as before, repeating the sequence several times. On the last occasion, I said to myself: T can see nothing but a viper’s head: what if I moved that?’ So I moved it, put out the lamp and went back to my couch; when I opened my eyes the gleam was gone, and I realized that it had come from the viper’s eye. I subsequently made inquiries on the point, and discovered that it was a fact, and familiar to those engaged in this trade.’ The author continues on the subject of snakes, their death and their abstemiousness, and of poison and antidotes—though he frequently wanders from the subject.

32. A severe snake-bite [IV, 147] . . . One of our friends had told me about Sukkar alShitranjï, who was the most inane of street-corner preachers but a brilliant chess-player. I questioned him one day about a hole he had in his nasal septum, and asked him how he came by it. He told me it happened when he went to Jabbul* to earn his living playing chess: he arrived there without a penny in his pocket, and uncertain whether he was going to succeed or fail, or even whether he would be able to find the friend he was counting on. He came upon a snake-charmer with great baskets in front of him containing enormous reptiles. Now [the point is that] when a snake bites it does not merely sting: not content with burying its fangs, [IV, 148] it tears and devours the flesh. There are, however, some large non-poisonous snakes that do no injury by biting. Sukkar stopped in front of the snake-charmer, who had just taken the biggest snake in the world out of a basket and was boasting of the efficacy of his exorcisms, and said to him: ‘Take this dirham and cast a spell over me to make me completely immune to injury by snakes.’ ‘Very well.’ ‘But first let one of the snakes go, so that you

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may cast your spell after it bites me: if I regain consciousness, I shall know that your method works.’ ‘Very well, choose any one you like’, said the snake-charmer; then, indicating a reptile that bites for food and not to poison, he added: ‘But avoid that one, for if it gets its teeth into you it will not let go until it has bitten a piece out.’ ‘Then that is the one I want’, replied Sukkar, supposing that the man was keeping the snake back on account of some virtue it possessed. ‘If you are really sure you want that one’, said the other, ‘tell me on what part of your body I am to let it go.’ He chose his nose, but the man begged him not to go on with it, and warned him of the risk he was running. For Sukkar, however, either it was his nose [IV, 149] or he would have his dirham back. So the man took out the snake, coiled it round his arm to prevent it biting Sukkar’s nose right off, and let it go. When the creature sank one of its fangs into Sukkar’s nose, the latter gave a scream that aroused the whole neighbourhood, and fainted. The snake-charmer was arrested and thrown into prison, and his reptiles were destroyed. When Sukkar regained consciousness he was completely deranged: the bystanders took up a collection to pay a donkeyman to take him to Basra*. He carried the mark of the snake’s tooth to his dying day. The subject of snakes gives Jàhiz an opportunity to quote various legends and to expatiate on Adam and Eve. In passing he treats the reader to some personal thoughts.

33. The author's confidences [IV, 208] . . . This book is being written under conditions that pre¬ vent my doing it as well as I should wish. In the first place there is my serious illness, then the lack of collaborators and the size of the task; and also, if I had undertaken to write a book of such length and containing so many words and ideas, but on accident and sub¬ stance, abrupt mutation (tafra*), tawallud*, interpenetration, innate characteristics [IV, 209] and contiguity, it would have been easier and taken less time. I should not have needed to cull lines of poetry, look up proverbs, select verses from the Koran, or drag pieces of evidence out of transmitters of tradition—quite apart from the fact that all this material is scattered about in books on widely different subjects. If you find in my book any flaw in the arrangement or manner of compilation, or anything not in its proper place, do not be too hard on me, but remember the circumstances under which I carried out the task. Were it not my hope to have God’s help in finishing it—for all I am

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aiming to do in this book is to show you where to look for evidence of God, His way of ordering the world, and the manifestations of His wisdom that He implanted in various creatures—I would never have laid myself open to such difficulties. When you peruse this book, do so in a spirit of indulgence towards its author, and not as a ruthless inquisitor or an ill-disposed reader, quick to appropriate anything good and at pains to castigate any¬ thing bad. Anyone who behaves in this way should take warning that he is laying himself open to be treated to a dose of his own medicine, and to having [IV, 210] lois own words and writings attacked simply as a punishment and a reprisal. Let him look upon my book in the way that God taught him to look, to ponder and to learn a lesson, for God said: ‘[Remember] when We made a covenant with you, and lifted up Mount [Sinai] above you, saying: Take firmly the Scripture that is given unto you, and remember what is in it.’5 Jâhiz reverts to snakes, and then goes on to scorpions.

34. Scorpion-stings [IV, 219] ... A man who is stung by a scorpion at 'Askar Mukram* or Jundaisàbür [IV, 220] dies of it; sometimes his flesh comes away in shreds, at others it rots and smells so foul that no one will come near without holding his nose for fear of infection, especially if it is necessary to touch the corpse and it is not known that death was due to having been stung by a scorpion. A man who felt he had been stung used to summon a phlebotomist, who would incise the site of the sting and suck it before the venom could spread to the internal organs. But the phlebotomist only came after being paid several dinars—which, however, were gladly paid in view of the relief afforded to the victim and the risk run by the opera¬ tor. The latter’s face sometimes turned completely grey or black; at other times his front teeth decayed and ached, and he suffered great pain by reason of the vapour from the blood touching his mouth, and the venom mixed with the blood. Later it became the practice to plug the mouths of cupping-glasses with cotton-wool, in such a way that the plug, while not reducing the force of the suction, stopped the blood from getting into the phlebotomist’s mouth. Then only a few years later people took to gathering a certain plant that grew in the beds of watercourses, and if the patient was treated with this his condition improved. 5 Koran, II, 60/63.

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35. A tale about a snake [IV, 241] .. . According to Juwaibir b. Ismà'ïl, his uncle told him the following story: While on the pilgrimage, we slept with a group of people who had halted at the same place as ourselves. One of them was a woman, who awoke suddenly to find a snake coiled about her, its head and tail meeting between her breasts. She was terrified of it, and this upset the rest of us. The snake remained coiled round her, doing her no harm, until we reached holy ground: then it slipped away and disappeared into Mecca. After completing the rites of the pilgrimage we set out on our way home. When we reached the place where we had halted before and the snake had coiled itself round the woman, the latter stopped and went to sleep; and when she awoke, she found the snake once more around her body. The reptile hissed, and suddenly the whole valley was overrun with snakes, which bit the woman until the marrow came out of her bones. A slave-girl belonging to her household, from whom I inquired about her, told me that she had sinned three times: each time she had had a child, and as soon as it was born she heated up the oven and put it in. The author tells more anecdotes, engages in some reflections about dreams and then about theology, and switches abruptly to ostriches, the harm they do, and their eggs. This leads him to mention some conjuring tricks.

36. Musailima the false prophet [IV, 369] . . . Before setting up as a prophet, Musailima* journeyed through the markets in the border country between the lands of the Arabs and the Persians, where the two peoples were wont to meet to buy and sell their produce, such as the markets of al-Ubulla*, alAnbâr* and al-Hïra*. [IV, 370] He hoped in this way to learn magic and sleight of hand and get to know the subterfuges of astrologers and false prophets. He mastered the tricks of keepers of idol temples, snake-charmers and soothsayers practising ornithomancy and geomancy, and the techniques of fortune-tellers, magicians and those who claim to be inspired by jinn. When he had learnt a certain number of these tricks, he went to work. He poured strong vinegar over an egg; and it is well known that if eggs are steeped for a time in vinegar the shells become so soft that they can be stretched, squeezed and drawn out almost like chewing-gum. When the egg was ready, he squeezed it into a narrow¬ necked phial and left it to dry; and as it dried the egg [IV, 371]

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hardened and gradually shrank back into its original shape. Then Musailima showed the phial to Mujjâ'a* and his family, who were Bedouins, claiming that it was a miracle and a sign vouchsafed him by God: and Mujjâ'a believed in him straight away. He had also brought with him some feathers the colour of a pair of pigeons whose wings Mujjâ'a had clipped. After demonstrating the miracle of the egg, he went on to the subject of pigeons, saying: ‘How much longer will you continue to torture God’s creatures by clipping their wings? Had God intended for birds anything other than the power of flight, He would not have given them wings. I forbid you to clip pigeons’ wings.’ Mujjâ'a answered defiantly: ‘Ask Him who vouchsafed you the miracle of the egg to make this cock’s wings grow again here and now, [to prove] your [genuineness]’ . . . [IY, 372] . . . Musailima replied: ‘If I ask that of God, and succeed in making it fly before your very eyes, then will you believe that I am a messenger of God?’ ‘Yes.’ T need to speak to my Lord face to face, and for that I must be alone; so leave me, or else, if you prefer, let me go into that room with the pigeon. I will bring it back directly with its wings complete, so that it will fly before your eyes.’ Now those people had never heard about the possibility of sticking feathers on to a pigeon’s wing, nor were they on their guard against impostors. Alone with the bird, Musailima took his prepared quills and fitted their ends into the stumps of the cut feathers; for the shafts are hollow, [IV, 373] and normally thick and strong at the base. When the bird had had all its feathers replaced, it looked like a horse with a false tail; but no one who did not suspect would have noticed anything . . . When Musai¬ lima released it, it flew away . . . The faith of the simpletons who had believed in him was reinforced, he made new converts, and all those who at one time or another had called him a liar were won over to him. Later, on a dark night with a gale blowing . . ., he said to them: ‘The angel is about to come down to me: and angels have wings and fly, and their coming is accompanied by thunder and the clashing of arms. Those of you who live elsewhere had best go to their homes, for the sight of the phenomenon strikes men blind.’ Then he built a kite, like those that children make out of China paper [IV, 374] or ordinary paper, fit with tails, wings and bells in the centre, and fly on windy days at the end of long stout cords. The people spent the night watching the sky and waiting for the coming of the angel; but he was long in coming, and in the end most of the inhabitants of al-Yamâma got up. The wind redoubled in violence and began to raise the dust, and then Musailima released his kite; the paper shape could be seen in the darkness, but the 12

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string was invisible. The onlookers had already been imagining angels, and when they saw this object and heard the clashing noise they began to vie with one another in shouting: ‘He who looks away and goes home will be saved!’ In the morning they had all made up their minds to support and champion Musailima. After noting that with the Arabs everything ends in poetry, the author refers to dumbness in animals.

37. Deafness and dumbness [IV, 404] . . . Theologians say that your dumb man is deaf: his in¬ ability to speak is due not to any malformation of the tongue, but to the fact that having never heard sounds, articulated or otherwise, he does not know how to produce them. Not all deaf people are com¬ pletely dumb, and there are also degrees of deafness. Some people can hear the sound of thunder or of a wall collapsing, the braying of an ass at close quarters [IV, 405] or a great din, but nothing else. Others can hear words if spoken in their ear, but otherwise they hear nothing, even if the speaker raises his voice; if the speaker positions himself so that the sound goes right into their ear, they understand perfectly, whereas if he speaks just as loudly into the air, the sound of his voice not being concentrated and conducted along a canal into the brain, they do not understand. The deaf man is really the dumb man, and the latter is so described only by similarity and analogy. After some reflections on the difference between the speed of light and that of sound, he reverts to ostriches, alludes to hunting, discusses some of the doctrines of the Manichaeists, and embarks on the subject of fire. The beginning of Volume V is also given over to fire and its nature, but the author takes no part in the controversy himself, being content merely to retail al-Nazzam’s ideas about kumün*, i.e. the occultation of the igneous element within matter. Then he continues his disquisition on colours, goes on to Zoroaster and discusses his views, quotes lines of poetry about heat and cold, refers again to al-Nazzàm and to thunder¬ bolts, water and the uses of fire, and sets out the reasons that led him to deal with the subject of fire. He then reveals for the first time, in a passage addressed to the reader personally, what he has in mind in writing this book. 38. More of the author's confidences [V, 155] .. . Were it not that I think very little of the modern socalled seekers after knowledge who prate of their interest in books,

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I should not have needed, absorbing though this book is, to set out on this interminable exercise in an attempt to cajole and wheedle some enthusiasm out of them, nor yet to be so profuse in my ex¬ cuses. Anyone would think they were conferring on me the benefits I am endeavouring to secure for them, or that I had designs on their wealth and was abasing myself before their riches, whereas the truth is that I am aiming to enrich them. This being so, I have not so far embarked on any major topics. Had I dealt with the differences between men and jinn, angels and prophets, males and females, or between both the latter and that which is neither male nor female, or had I expatiated on the superi¬ ority of man to all other animal species, the history of the nations through the ages, fate and antiquity, the extent of our intellectual, scientific and technical ability, or the nature of man from the moment when he is a drop of sperm to that when old age reduces him to nothingness . . ., and had you then found my book dull and weari¬ some, you would have had more excuse [V, 156] but have done your¬ self greater injury. The only way I can hope to win your interest is to present it to you in the most attractive form possible and guide you through the by-ways of many different subjects, leading you from argument based on the wise Koran to memorable traditions, from traditions to genuine poetry, from fine poetry to current everyday proverbs, and from proverbs to philosophical curiosities, marvels confirmed by experience, revealed by critical scrutiny and disclosed by reasoning, and wonders beloved by the human heart and eagerly sought after by the human mind. Thus have I written it, specially for you, and I bring it to you counting on you for my reward. Look upon it with the eyes of a fair-minded scholar of equal standing, or else of a pupil and student in search of a mentor. If you find the book I have written for you not what you stipulated, then deny me the pleasure your interest would give me, just as I should be depriving you of your incentive to read it. If in all fairness and openmindedness you find that I have fulfilled my commitment to you, but nevertheless you find your interest waning and your enthusiasm becoming blunted, then I feel bound to tell you that all we are suffering from is your inferiority, your natural baseness and your tendency to be your own worst enemy. Verses in praise of various religions are followed by poetic pleasantries and thoughts about keeping secrets (see XXXVII below), old people, etc.

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39. Difficulty of the subject-matter [V, 199] ... I do not claim an exhaustive knowledge of any of these animal species, nor have I mustered every scrap of material about them. But a man who is incapable of assembling and arranging a mass of documents is still less capable of using them fully and ex¬ tracting from them all they contain. Drawing water from a well is easier than searching for it in the ground, and harvesting is a lighter task than ploughing. [Y, 200] This is a subject so vast that if it were made into a book by someone with ten times my erudition, a more extensive memory, wider knowledge, a firmer resolve, more refined perception, more reliable judgment, a greater capacity for fathoming hidden obscurities and solving insurmountable difficulties, more plentiful ideas and more substantial natural endowments, greater staying-power, better concentration and habits of work, exceptional enthusiasm, an open mind, great hopes for the future, and an over¬ riding ambition to complete the task and enjoy the fruits of it, [by someone who,] in the expectation of living a long while longer in full possession of his faculties, claimed to be faced with a tremendous problem and yet guaranteed miraculous results and made weighty and impressive statements, this man would be indulging in a futile game and shocking frivolity: he would be reckoned among those whose words outstrip their deeds and whose promises outdo their ability to fulfil them. Even a man credited with perfection, renowned for his intellectual ability and meet to outshine all other scholars, could not get to know all there is beneath a mosquito’s wing in a lifetime, even if he had the strength of all the wise observers in the world and could borrow the erudition of all the research workers endowed with a good memory, all the investigators and all the scholars who study ceaselessly and never grow weary of books. [V, 201] I have no doubt that viziers know more about this subject than scholars risen from the common people, and that caliphs have more learning than viziers, prophets more than caliphs and angels more than prophets. But God’s learning is still wider, and created beings are powerless to attain to it. God was content to vouchsafe to each category of His creatures an amount of knowledge consistent with their natural endowments and appropriate to their needs. Jàhiz deals with various kinds of birds, the life-span of animals, obesity and sterility, animals’ gaits, their reproduction, their limbs and the sounds some of them make; he mentions in passing rats, mice and cats, devotes some attention to talking animals, and points out how difficult it is to learn a language. Having referred in connection with the cat to the theories held by the Zoroastrians, he turns to

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40. The reasons for Zoroaster's success [V, 325] . . . Had it not happened at a time which marked the nadir of decadence, and among a people utterly devoid of sense of honour, scruples, social conscience, fastidiousness and desire for cleanliness, he could not have done it. Some say that his success was due to the fact that he began with the king, and managed to win him over by virtue of his insight into his disposition, his character and his desires; and that it was the sovereign who then influenced the common people towards this religion. But those who put forward this line of argument are only just above the level of the common herd in their understanding of the way of the world; for the king could not have influenced the common people towards this religion unless [V, 326] Zoroaster had first spread disaffection among the king’s troops; and the king could have had no power over the common people through the medium of the army, even had it been ten times as large, if there had not been a minority among the common people ready to side with the army against the common people itself. But kings have no reason to hazard their power in such circum¬ stances, for their only aim is expediency; they will not risk losing their throne for the sake of something non-essential, except when their power is based on an imamate and their imamate on the prophethood, for in the latter case they are committed to the obliga¬ tions of divine law, which is also the path of common sense, since the legislator knows better than anyone else the secret of righteousness. It must be remembered that the period in question was an ex¬ tremely decadent one, and these men the worst of men. You never find a follower of any other religion giving it up to become a Zoroastrian; and anyway the doctrine only spread in their country, in Fars, Media and Khurasan, and all that is Persian. If you are surprised at my uncomplimentary remarks about the intelligence of Chosroes Parvïz and his forbears, [V, 327] his friends and advisers, his scribes, doctors, sages and knights, let me tell you something to show that I am not simply carried away by fanaticism. You must understand that I am not referring to those of later generations who were born into this faith, brought up in this re¬ ligion, nurtured on these doctrines and reared in these beliefs. We all know that the Greeks had minds far above belief in materialism or the cult of the planets and signs of the Zodiac; and that the Indians are above believing in the obedience due to Buddha or in the cult of idols, pieces of carved wood, standing stones or rock carvings.

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A diseased background and a bad example are sicknesses that neither Galen nor any other physician [V, 328] could treat; and deference to great men, imitation of one’s ancestors, attachment to the traditional religion and the habit of clinging to that which is familiar—all these are tendencies that call for drastic treatment, and much space could be devoted to them. He reverts to cats, draws a comparison between the cat and the dog, tells some anecdotes, attacks the opponents of spontaneous generation, and after referring to scorpions tells the following story:

4L Snake-poison and the camel foal [V, 366] Here is a strange story about vipers’ poison, which I heard from someone well informed on the subject. I was in the desert, he told me, and saw a she-camel grazing and giving suck to its foal. All of a sudden the mother was bitten in the lip by a viper. She froze into immobility, but the foal continued to suck for a moment and then fell stone dead. That the foal should have died before its mother is one surprising thing; that the venom should have spread so rapidly is even stranger; and that the surplus poison should have found its way to the udder and into the milk, thus killing the foal before its mother, is a further cause for amazement. If a nursing mother drinks wine, her baby gets drunk as it feeds; if she takes a laxative, the baby has diarrhoea. That is why wise men [V, 367] choose wet-nurses for their babies who are free from any mental or physical illness. One must suppose that the milk had an effect on the camel foal because of the close connection between the milk and the mother’s circulation, and that the poison worked more rapidly on it than on its mother. It is also possible that the weakness of the young animal assisted the action of the poison. Jàhiz goes on to the subject of lice, deals in passing with the influence of environment on animals, tells how to kill vermin, declares that lice come out of men’s skin, and then embarks on a chapter on fleas. He also tells stories and anecdotes.

42. A tale about midges [V, 393] The following tale was told me by Ibrâhîm b. al-Sindi*: When my father was governor of Syria, he was anxious to treat the southern and northern Arabs on a footing of equality. ‘The only

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superiority we recognize’, he said to them, ‘is that which lies in obedience to God and the caliphs. You are all brothers, and in my eyes the Nizârites* have nothing that the Yemenites do not have in equal measure.’ He used to have lunch with a party composed of the leaders of the two factions he was treating as equals, and he had them brought in and seated with scrupulous fairness. The shaikh* of the Yemenites used to arrive in a turban that he pulled right down over his eye¬ brows: he never took it off, whatever the weather. Now a young Qaisite* who enjoyed my father’s confidence wished to belittle this shaikh in his eyes and make him an object of distaste to him. One day when they were alone together in the ante-room, he said to my father: T have something to say to you which is inspired solely by my gratitude, nobility and friendship and my anxiety to give you good advice. Did I not know how fastidious you are about anything unclean, and the pains you take to avoid any defilement, [V, 394] and were I not half afraid that when you hear what I am about to say you will take it as a piece of deceit, even though you do not show it, [I would tell you] that the reason this Yemenite is never without his turban, and pulls the edges right down over his eyebrows, is that he suffers from a disease so horrible that if you knew what it was you would no longer be willing to eat at the same table with him.’ And he gave my father details that made his hair stand on end. ‘If I eat with him’, he exclaimed, ‘seeing that he has what he has, it will be disastrous. If I bar them all from my table I shall offend them all, seeing that hitherto I have been friendly, relaxed and sociable with them and invited them to eat with me. If I close my door to him alone, or seat him at another table, he will be vexed; and if he is vexed he will stir up the wrath of all the Yemenites in Syria.’ That night passed slowly for my father. Next day he held an audience, and his friends came to greet him. The conversation had turned to poisons and their strange effects, when the shaikh came up to my father and said: T have seen some unbelievable things to do with poisons. Once I set out with my nephew here, my cousin here and my son here to go to such-and-such a village, and suddenly, not far off the main road, we espied a camel that had just been bitten by a viper. It was a very fat camel, and all [V, 395] the wild animals and birds round the corpse were dead. We stopped in amazement a little way off, and then noticed a swarm of midges around the dead camel. I was just saying to my companions: “Here is a strange thing: first, that a camel of that size should be slain by the bite of a creature hardly larger than one of its own veins or nerves: whatever can it have injected into it? Secondly, not content with killing and undoing

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it completely, the creature has also killed all the birds of prey that have eaten of it and all the wild beasts that have tasted its flesh. The most amazing thing of all is that the poison should have killed the large animals and spared the weak, despicable little midges.” As I was saying this a strong wind arose, coming from the direction of the carrion, and blew the midges towards us. One of them landed on my forehead, and no sooner had it bitten me than my whole face and head swelled up: I could not touch my skull or brows to scratch myself without the flesh coming away in my hand. I was taken home on a litter [V, 396] and given various kinds of treatment; and eventually, after a long time, I got better. But my illness left me with unpleasant after-effects in that I went bald and my eyebrows fell out.’ Those present followed all this as though they were quite familiar with the story. My father smiled, while the Qaisite hung his head. Guessing that perhaps they had already discussed the matter, the shaikh added: ‘This Qaisite is a spiteful fellow, and has probably been trying to injure me in some deceitful way in your eyes!’ That, concluded Ibrâhîm, is the strangest story I have ever heard on the subject of poison. After dealing with insects, talismans against their bites, spiders, bees and clothes-moths, Jâhiz turns to the bustard, sheep and goats, frogs, locusts, etc. Then he expounds his views on 43. Man's superiority to other animals [V, 542] . . . The thing that distinguishes man from wild beasts, domestic animals and insects, and makes him worthy of the divine saying: He has subjected to you that which is in the heavens and that which is on earth, all coming from Him’6, is not his outward form [V, 543], nor the fact that he was created from a drop of sperm and his forefather from the dust, nor that he walks on two legs and grasps with his hands anything he needs; for all those features are found in idiots, madmen, children and cripples. The real difference lies in the power [to create his actions]; the existence of ‘capacity’ entails the existence also of reason and under¬ standing, though the converse is not necessarily true. God honoured jinn and made them superior to wild beasts and domestic animals by virtue of the ‘capacity’ He bestowed on them, from which it follows that they possess reason and understanding. ’ He honoured angels and made them superior to jinn; He placed 6 Koran, XLV, 12/13. Koran or Furqàn here in the sense of individual Koranic revelation.

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them above men, and gave them responsibility in proportion to the blessings He bestowed on them. They do not have human faces and were not created from a drop of sperm, nor their forefather from the dust; their superior position is the result solely of their reason, under¬ standing and ‘capacity’. Do you suppose that God could give these faculties to one part of His creation and not to another, and then require no more from the former than He requires from the latter, which He deprived and denied? Why did He give it reason, if not to ponder and learn? Why did He give it understanding, if not that it may place [V, 544] truth above the passions? Why did He give it ‘capacity’, if not to compel the ‘proof’ [of His existence]? Have you ever thought about the difference between you and the creature that is placed in subjection to you, or between the creature that is made for your purposes and the one to whom you are sub¬ jected? Have you ever thought about the difference between that which God made to be your enemy and that which He made to be your sustenance? Have you ever thought about the difference be¬ tween the creature created to be agony and death to you [and the creature intended for your benefit], or between that which God made to be wild and that which He made to be domestic? Or be¬ tween that which He made small in your eyes and great in your heart and that which He made great in your eyes and small in your heart? Or again, have you ever thought about the bee, the spider and the ant, seeing that God glorified them and enhanced their merit by giving their names to long suras7 and important verses? Or about the way he makes to mention them a Koran or Furqdn, saying: ‘And thy Lord revealed to bees: “Make your abode in the mountains, in trees and in the hives men build” ’8. Think how small and weak the bee is, and then apply your mind to this divine saying addressed to them: ‘Eat, moreover, of every fruit, and walk meekly in the ways of your Lord’9, and you will see that they are [V, 545] mightier than the mountain and vaster than space. Then consider the divine saying: ‘When at last [Solomon’s hosts] came to the valley of the ants’10. What importance have ants in the mind of the fool or the simpleton? And yet see how God named a valley after them, and made known their wisdom, the good counsel they give their fellows, and their humility before the mighty. Then you will see that they are of great 7 Cf. Koran, XVI (the Bee), XXVII (the Ant) and XXIX (the Spider). 3 Koran, XVI, 70/68. 9 Koran, XVI, 71/69. 10 Koran, XXVII, 18.

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value and renown, and their stature will be increased in your heart after being diminished in your eyes. The author similarly emphasizes the puniness of man. After disquisitions on locusts and partridges, Volume V ends with sayings and verses. In the first few pages of Volume VI Jàhiz briefly recapitulates the contents of the preceding volumes.

44. Prolixity and conciseness [VI, 7] . . . There remain some topics that call for lengthy exposition and necessitate prolixity, but the word prolixity cannot properly be applied to that which does not exceed the limits of the necessary or overstep the bounds of the desirable. [VI, 8] Style must be suited to content: diffuse, high-flown or light, as the case may be. Simple, well-defined subjects need less lengthy treatment than complex, ill-defined ones. If all the world’s most eloquent men tried to explain the latter to unintelligent readers in concise language, without oral commentaries or gestures of the head or hand, they would not be able to do so. There is an old saying: ‘If what you want does not exist, want that which does exist.’ A reasonable man should not demand of the tongue something it is incapable of, nor burden the mind with some¬ thing it is not designed to carry; that is why the author of Logic had to expound his book orally to the studious who wished to learn logic from him, even though he was a fluent writer with the gift of lucid exposition. But I have no doubt that men’s minds, which are attracted by curiosities, partial to rarities and appreciative of short essays, naturally tend to find lengthy exposition wearisome, even if the sub¬ ject [VI, 9] demands it and it is useful and advantageous. Jàhiz announces the layout proposed for this volume, reverts to the idea that the interest of an animal is not dependent on its size, states that all his theories are based on evidence, and explains

45. Why the author has nothing to say about fish [VI, 16] ... We have not devoted a separate chapter to fish and other denizens of salt and fresh water, canals, rivers, swamps and streams, because for most of these species we have been unable to find key passages of sufficient exactitude to inspire confidence and encourage the reading of the portions devoted to other subjects. The only material available is information provided by sailors, and sailors are not renowned as respecters of the unvarnished truth, The stranger a

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story, the more they like it; and moreover they use vulgar expressions and have an atrocious style. There is a further difficulty: the chapter on fish would be so lengthy and so packed with material that you would not stomach it, even though Mukhâriq* were to sing you it all, accompanied by Zalzal* on the lute and [VI, 17] Barsümâ* on the flute. For this reason I have made no attempt at it. Aristotle devoted much space to the subject, but I could find no evidence in his book beyond his own assertions. One day I said to a sailor: ‘Aristotle claims that whenever fish eat anything they swallow some water at the same time, owing to their voraciousness and the size of their mouth aperture.’ His only answer was to say: ‘Only some¬ one who has been a fish or been told by a fish can know for certain— or else someone who has heard the confidences of Jesus’s apostles, for they were fishermen and disciples of the Messiah!’ That sailor must have been a dialectician, and have prided himself that he understood the causes of things, to have [VI, 18] answered me so. Still, I shall endeavour so far as possible to reproduce some of the material I have found in poetry and tradition, or obtained from dwellers on the coast or by rivers and canals, or else from fishmongers and physicians. He does not, however, deal with fish but with lizards and insects, and then with

46. Wild and domestic animals [VI, 23] . . . We propose to deal with the species that have both wild and domestic strains, such as elephants, pigs, cattle, asses and cats. Gazelles can be domesticated and bred, but only with great difficulty. There are no wild strains of camels, except in Bedouin legends. Species that are never wild but only domestic include the dog, which nevertheless is carnivorous; only mad dogs turn wild. As regards hyaenas, wolves, [VI, 24] lions, panthers, tigers, foxes and jackals, they are all wild. Sometimes a lion may have its claws cut and its canine teeth removed, and then it will be content to grow old in captivity, knowing that it cannot hunt its prey; but even then there is no certainty that it will not turn vicious, or try to escape if it finds its keepers’ backs turned and espies a thicket a little way off in the desert. A Bedouin once reared a wolf cub, thinking it would be better than a dog for guarding his flock. But as soon as it was big and strong enough it attacked a ewe and slit its throat—for that is the way of

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wolves—and ate part of it. When its master saw the havoc it had wrought, he cried: Thou hast eaten my little ewe, thou who wert brought up among us! Who told thee thy father was a wolf? [VI, 25] Some of our friends do not believe this story: they say the wolf cub could not have been brought up in his master’s house¬ hold from the time its bones began to harden. They add: ‘Would it not have rejoined the wolves and hyaenas, and preferred the country to the town and the open desert to the haunts of men? A wild animal does not become domesticated through living among men and being unable to return to the desert, but only when it abandons its natural wild habitat.’ Some animals that are still wild occasionally breed in captivity, but it is unusual. More commonly, some stop breeding, while others resolutely refuse to eat or drink; others again need to be forcibly fed [VI, 26] by having food put into their mouths, for instance snakes. Some cannot be domesticated at all: they remain without eating or uttering any cry, until in time they die. This is especially common with wild birds. What we have been saying is in no way invalidated by the story told about a hunter from Sürà*, for one strange, rare, extraordinary thing does not constitute a general rule. This hunter was said to have been so good at taming and training wild beasts that he managed to tame a wolf and use it for hunting gazelles and smaller animals. The wolf was so tame that when it was stolen by a government official and taken to al-'Askar*, nearly a hundred miles away, it returned to its master. This same hunter is also reputed to have trained a lion and used it to hunt wild asses or smaller animals. He also trained wasps to catch flies. That is all most amazing, strange, rare, remark¬ able and extraordinary. Jâhiz says that for his information about wild animals he relies on the evidence of Bedouins, who are oblivious of the interest to be found in such facts—just as their concern with the stars is purely utilitarian.

47. Doubt and conviction [VI, 34] ... I did not write this in order to get you to believe it: it was simply a tradition that I wished you to hear. I am not myself in a hurry either to believe in it or reject it, but you should probably take it with a grain of salt. [VI, 35] . . . Next, try to tell when doubt is appropriate, and make an effort to know when it is called for, so as to know when con-

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viction is appropriate and necessary. Practice doubting on the object of doubt itself. Even when this has no other advantage but to make one hesitate and carry out a searching scrutiny, it is still worth while. It is generally held that there are differing degrees of doubt, though not everyone agrees that there are degrees of conviction. When Abü al-Jahm said to al-Makkï: ‘I am hardly ever in doubt’, the latter replied: ‘For my part, I am seldom if ever convinced.’ He gloried in the virtue of doubting when doubting was due, just as Abü al-Jahm prided himself on being convinced when conviction was called for. Abü Ishâq* said: ‘I have argued with sceptics and deniers among the unbelievers, but I have found that the former understand the essence of dogmatic theology better than the others.’ He also said: ‘The sceptic is closer to you than the denier; there can never be conviction [VI, 36] that has not been preceded by doubt, and no one can go from one belief to another without passing through an intermediate stage of doubt. . .’ The common people have fewer doubts than the élite, for they have no hesitation about whether to believe [VI, 37] or not. They are not naturally suspicious, and are capable only of rushing headlong into undiluted faith or undiluted denial; they miss the third possibility, the state of doubt with its differences of degree, depending on the favourable or unfavourable opinion one forms and the probabilities of the case. A man somewhat given to rational investigation once overheard some scholars giving it as their view that a little doubt was a good thing; and he proceeded to apply this principle in everything, even claiming that the rights and wrongs of any matter could be deduced from the probabilities. He died leaving no issue and no supporters for his theory. The author reverts to animals, particularly the lizard, and quotes some verses before going on to the subject of 48. Pride in animals and man [VI, 69] . . . Animals accused of pride include the bull when it stands in the sun or stalks haughtily through the grass on the day after heavy rain . . . Some would include the male camel when the females of the herd circle about it and follow it as it makes its way to a waterhole or to pasture . . . The she-camel is very arrogant when big with young: she looks down her nose and shuns the company of the other females . . .

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[VI, 70] . . . Of men accused of pride, the Banü Makhzüm* and the Banü Umayya* are mentioned among the tribe of Quraish*, and the Banü Ja'far b. Kilàb and the Banü Zuràra b. 'Udus particularly among the Bedouins. The Persian kings for their part regarded men as mere slaves, and themselves as gods . . . Pride is more deeply rooted and more widespread among the lower classes, but their abasement and lack of numerical strength prevent it showing itself: it is the same with our Sindï slaves and our Jewish protégés, but only the well-informed are aware of this characteristic of theirs. In short, anyone who has any sort of authority over the common people and the lowly and untouchable shows arrogance towards his inferiors in proportion to the amount of power he exercises. If a dhimnil* enjoys good standing on account of his wealth, he at once carries things to excess and makes a display of those qualities which he hopes will mend the tear, repair the crack and make good the breach [which his dhimmï status represents], [VI, 71] Try to check on what I am telling you, and you will find that it is generally known. In these ways a slave is a harder master than a freedman. Another small point of which I have experi¬ ence: I have never known a man behave arrogantly to his inferiors who did not humble himself to the same extent before his superiors. As for the Banü Makhzüm, the Banü Umayya, the Banü Ja'far b. Kilâb and the Banü Zuràra b. 'Udus, what makes them arrogant is the merit they have come to see in themselves. If their intelligence and devotion to the faith were stronger than their petty tribal loyalty, they would be as modest and as just to their inferiors as the Banü Hashim. Jàhiz reverts to the subject of the lizard, refers to the curiosities of creation, and reproduces a long poem together with his own lengthy commentary; the latter gives him the opportunity of assembling a mass of material on the legends mentioned in the poem (metamorphoses jinns, ogres, magic, etc.). On the subject of devils, he is mainly con¬ cerned to deal with their sources of information. 49. Dévils and the secrets of heaven [VI, 264] . . . People find various grounds for attacking the belief that devils eavesdrop in order to discover the secrets of heaven. We were joking just now, but now we must turn to serious things and consider in general terms the views of theologians on the question_ though it was not the original aim of this book to deal with such

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subjects. To go into it fully would mean exceeding the limits of our treatise on animals, so we shall deal with it briefly but adequately. God will help us in the task. Some people say: We know that devils are subtler, less fallible, shrewder, less burdened with superfluities, more agile, more know¬ ledgeable and quicker-witted then ourselves. In proof of this, every¬ one agrees that there is no innovation, serious or venial, in the world, no sin, concealed or manifest, of the passions and desires, that the devil does not tempt men to: he flaunts them before us, opens the door to all evils, spreads every net and sets every snare he can. And no one could be expert in all the various categories of sin and evil unless he were first acquainted with all the categories of goodness and piety. A man with only a modicum of sense knows that if he breaks into a house he will have his hand cut off, that if he insults someone he will have his tongue cut out, and that if he seeks to commit any of these crimes steps will be taken to prevent it. Consequently he gives up the idea of committing them, does not think about undertaking them, and does not even try to carry out enterprises that he knows will not succeed. Now you say that every time a devil with the characteristics de¬ scribed above goes up to heaven to eavesdrop, an unerring fireball is unleashed at him; either it actually hits him, or else it gives him clear warning of what is in store for him if he has the temerity to repeat the offence. The missiles are fired only in these circumstances. Seeing them, the devil realizes that to eavesdrop is to court the risk of burning, and that there are obstacles to the success of his enter¬ prise. Yet all this long time the first devil does not discourage the second from trying his luck, nor the second the third, or the third the fourth! If it is the one that got burnt trying again, that would be surprising; if it is one of the others, how can he be ignorant of the fate of his predecessors, seeing that it is visible and apparent? Unless, of course, devils are not after all more knowledgeable than ourselves, and cannot distinguish between misdeeds and acts of allegiance to God. If so, they would encourage piety even while hoping for sin, and advocate salvation even while willing man’s downfall. If not, then they must certainly know what is written in the Koran, and believe it, and be satisfied that God carries out His threats [VI, 267] every bit as much as He fulfils His promises. ... So how can devils go and eavesdrop, knowing the alternatives and fully appreciating that the warning is seriously meant, namely that the inquisitive will be the target of meteors and be burnt up with fire? [VI, 268] How can they keep coming back to heaven to discover its secrets, when

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they know for certain that heaven is guarded by these fireballs? Even if they did not have this certain knowledge from the truths of the Book, . . . long experience, direct evidence and mutual exchange of information would be enough to discourage them from persisting in their attempts. The discussion continues, as does the commentary on the poem that gave rise to it. Jàhiz quotes more verses and comments on them at length, dwelling especially on the hare, the chameleon and certain other animals. He devotes some attention to the weapons with which they are equipped, and goes off into long digressions before reverting to the commentary he began a long while back. After some pages about the halt and lame, he tells some stories about slaves, of which the following is a sample: 50. A tiresome slave [VI, 490] . . . The following tale is told by Rauh b. al-Tâ’ifiyya, slave to Anas b. Abi Shaikh’s* sister, who entrusted him with the manage¬ ment of all her affairs: I went to the market to buy a cook, and I was standing there when suddenly a young slave was brought in priced at ten dinars, though he was worth a hundred to judge by his youth, his good looks and his fine bearing, without reckoning anything for his professional skill. When I saw him I could not restrain myself from going up to him and saying: ‘You rogue! You are worth at least a hundred dinars for your face alone, and if your master is selling you for this price of ten dinars, it must mean that you are the worst of men!’ ‘For them’, he replied, T may be the worst of men, but for others I am worth a hundred and a hundred dinars.'' Then I said to myself: The prestige of presenting my masters with this handsome lad and his good cooking, even for a day, is worth more than ten dinars. So I bought him and took him home. He was so skilful and conscientious in his work, and so careful and well behaved, that I sent him to the bank one day to withdraw twenty dinars. Hardly had he the money in his pocket than he took French leave; [VI, 491] but before I had had time to realize he was gone, the officer responsible for bringing back absconding slaves was there asking for his fee. ‘So’, I said to him, ‘it is for this and similar tricks that you were sold for ten dindrsV ‘Except that I know you would not believe me’, he replied, T would tell you the money fell out of my pocket. But let me say one thing: keep me, watch me, make use of my services, and reckon that you paid thirty dinars for me.’ So I kept him, because I had taken a liking to him, and told myself that what he had said was perhaps true. As time went on, seeing him so upright, so penitent and such a good servant, I forgot the whole business, and one day I

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entrusted him with thirty dinars to deliver to my family. Hardly had he got the money in his hand than he took French leave again; but a few days later the nâshid* brought him back to me. ‘You told me that the first lot of dinars fell out of your pocket’, I said to him; ‘what have you got to say this time?’ ‘Oh, I know you will not accept any excuses from me; so do not allow me in the house, but confine me to kitchen service. If a good beating could get you back part of your money, I would advise you to give it me; but the money is gone, and blows will only detract from your merit in the hereafter. Besides, I might die under the beating, and then you would be sorry, for you would be a criminal, covered with shame [VI, 492] and pursued by the authorities. So leave me to my cooking, and I will give you satis¬ faction and your money’s worth; I will buy the best provisions and cook them perfectly. Just reckon that you paid sixty dinars for me.’ ‘This time you will not get away with it. In heaven’s name, go: you are free.’ ‘You are a slave yourself’, he replied; ‘what authority have you to emancipate slaves?’ ‘Then I will sell you at any price.’ ‘Do not sell me until you have found another cook, for if you get rid of me straight away you will have nothing to eat but bread and beans.’ So I had to keep him. A few days later, when I was sitting [outside], a pedigree ewe came by, an excellent milker; we had taken its lamb away from it, and it kept bleating. I said, as anyone would when irritated, ‘Curse that ewe! If only God would send someone to slaughter it or steal it, so that we might have some peace from its bleating!’ My cook had hardly disappeared than he was back, a butcher’s knife and a kitchen knife in his hand and wearing his cook’s apron. ‘This meat’, he asked, ‘how shall we have it? What are your orders?’ ‘What meat?’ ‘Why, the meat of the ewe.’ ‘What [VI, 493] ewe?’ ‘The one you told me to slaughter.’ ‘And what ewe, pray, were you instructed to slaughter?’ ‘Glory be! Did you not just say “Oh, if only God would send someone to slaughter it or steal it”? And now that God has answered your prayer, you pretend to know nothing about it!’ And Rauh added: T was really in a quandary, for I could neither keep him, sell him, nor emancipate him.’ After a selection of poems, the author reverts to the stoning of devils, and goes on quoting verses up to the end of Volume VI. 51. Plea for divine assistance [VII, 5] O God, we beseech Thy help against Satan the stoned, and pray Thee lead us in the paths of righteousness. May God vouchsafe His blessings to our Lord Muhammad in particular and to His 13

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prophets in general. We beseech God’s help lest our anxiety to finish this book lead us to adulterate truth with untruth, to intersperse fact with falsehood, to multiply lies and then seek to buttress them with fine words and mask their ugliness under an elegant style, to illumin¬ ate the truth with anything but the light of truth, to support hypo¬ theses with anything except irrefutable evidence, or to become engrossed in false evidence and give it precedence, seeking to demon¬ strate its virtue and superiority by invoking the testimony of fabri¬ cated quotations, forged hadiths*, falsified isnâds* or arguments consisting of mere affirmations, acceptable only to people of dubious understanding. We beseech God’s help against the peril of being seduced by words, against loquacity and prolixity, and the blind insolence of those who engage in them. In our dealings with [VII, 6] many of our contemporaries, we think we can depend on reasonable goodwill and count on their indulgence. But some so-called readers and devotees of learning pick on any weak phrase, any undignified expression, any passage they can find fault with, and even on the accidental mistakes that creep into books, such as slips of the pen and copyists’ errors; and thus an ill-disposed reader will put an entirely wrong construction on an idea, which would not happen if he ap¬ proached it in a more well-meaning spirit and with an open mind, careful to eschew enviousness, hasty judgments and the tendency to combine longwindedness with narrowmindedness shown by those who speak with great freedom on subjects of which they know noth¬ ing. If instead of dwelling on the few defects they found they fastened on the many obvious merits, this would be more in keeping with good manners and an upright character, more consonant with wis¬ dom, further removed from irresponsibility, more in accord with time-honoured proprieties, and more likely to earn immunity for the critics own works and win them a favourable hearing when it comes to submitting them to the judgment of their opponents and braving the onslaught of their enemies. Jàhiz reverts to the idea he expressed earlier: this book is designed to demonstrate the evidence of God found in the animal kingdom. But though he announces that the seventh volume is to be devoted to ele¬ phants, he refers first to other animals, to circumcision and to birds.

52. The language of birds [VII, 56] . . . Birds have a language which allows them to under¬ stand what they have to say to each other; they do not need a more highly developed tongue, and would have no use for it.

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[VII, 57] . . . If someone should say: That is not a language, we would reply: The Koran itself said that it was a language; poetry likewise regards it as a language, and so do the Arabs when they discuss it. If you mean simply that it is not among the means of ex¬ pression open to man, and is not a language because you do not understand it, why then you do not understand the tongues of all foreign countries; if these foreign tongues are so much gibberish to you, you cannot deny that they are the language and mode of ex¬ pression of those peoples. They do not understand what you say either, and so could equally well argue that your language is not human speech. Have not these foreign tongues become the language and means of expression of the peoples that speak them simply be¬ cause they allow them to make themselves understood among them¬ selves? They are articulated sounds produced by the mouth and tongue: hence are not the sounds uttered by the various kinds of wild and domestic birds also a language and a means of expression, given that you know that they are distinctly articulated and methodically arranged, are produced by the mouth and tongue, and allow these animals to understand one another? If you can only grasp part of it, remember that these creatures can only understand part of your language. This quantity of sounds in combination represents the limit of their needs and power of expression, just as the sounds you produce represent the limit of your needs and power of expression. Besides, birds can be taught to speak [VII, 58], and they will learn, just as man himself learns to speak when a baby or a foreigner. The author refers to animals’ feelings and characters, and then embarks on the chapter on elephants, quoting a long qasida followed by traditions and more verses. After a digression on enmity in animals and human beings, he reproduces some passages from Kalila wa-Dimna, and then reverts to the subject of elephants. 53. The largest animals [VII, 103] In all land animals that have a tongue, its root is at the inner end and its tip at the outer end, except in the elephant, which has the tip pointing inwards and the root at the outer end. The Indians say that its tongue is back to front, and that because of this retroversion it could speak if it were taught how. All fresh-water fish have a tongue and a brain, but not sea fish, which have neither tongue nor brain. All animals that chew when they eat, and do not simply swallow their food whole, move the lower jaw only, except the crocodile, which moves its upper jaw.

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All quadrupeds that have eyes, whether wild or domestic, car¬ nivorous or not, have eyelashes only on the upper lid; only man has them on both eyelids. In all animals that have a chest, it is narrow, except in man. [VII, 104] No animal, male or female, has teats on its chest, except man and the elephant. . . The elephant is the largest animal known, but despite its great bulk it is the shrewdest, the cleverest and the best imitator; in this respect it surpasses all slender, graceful animals. Of all animals, a gift for imitation is found in the dog, the monkey, the bear and the Meccan sheep; the parrot only mimics the sound of voices. Despite its enormous size and bulk, the elephant has the daintiest manners and the greatest refinement; and it shows its pleasure more clearly than other animals. That is really an amazing thing. Imagine a creature so huge that its tusks sometimes weigh over 600 pounds! [VII, 105] The elephant’s detractors all agree in regarding the whale and the sarafan as the largest of animals; they also speak of the great size of certain serpents which they sometimes add to the other two, and are at pains to draw attention to the great bulk of the tinnin, adding that the claims made for the elephant are exaggerated. The friend of the Indians, champion of the elephant’s case, re¬ plies: The elephant’s great stature, its huge body, the breadth of its back, the length of its trunk and the size of its ears—all this, together with the lightness of its step, its longevity, the weight it can carry and its indifference to the load placed on its back, has been attested by so many people that only the ignorant or the stubborn could dispute it. As for your claims regarding the size of your serpent, namely that if its length and girth were measured and its weight estimated it would be found to be bigger than the elephant, we have only heard this sort of balderdash in exorcists’ tales, snake-charmers’ lying stories and seamen’s legends. Touching the tinnin, people believe in its existence to the same ex¬ tent that they believe in that of the phoenix. Whenever I have been in a gathering of people and the conversation has turned to the tinnin, everyone has expostulated [VII, 106] and called the narrator a liar. We have, however, very occasionally come across Syrians who claimed that the tinnin is a fiery whirlwind that comes up out of the sea at certain seasons, and scorches everything in its path; this phenomenon is called tinnin, and is depicted as having the shape of a serpent. As for the saratân, we know nobody who claims ever to have seen it. If one can go by the accounts of certain seamen, they assert that

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they have sometimes gone to certain wooded islands, deeply scarred with gullies and ravines, and lit large fires, which heated the saratan's back and aroused the monster, so that it heaved up with its entire covering of undergrowth and caused the death of most of them. That is a tale that outdoes all fables, cock and bull stories and fireside yarns! As regards fish, the one they call the whale is of a really remarkable size: people have seen it, and it is well known. But even if what you say [VII, 107] about the whale is true, can you assert of your own knowledge that it equals or surpasses the elephant in delicacy of feeling, intelligence, aptitude for learning and imitation, capacity for pleasure, docility, bravery in battle and smoothness of gait when carrying kings on its back? Is the whale hunted by kings, or sought after by merchants? Are parts of its body coveted by physicians? Is it of any use as a medicament, or for food or clothing? Why, when seamen find themselves on top of one when it is asleep or inattentive, their only concern is to escape the harm it can do: they thump it with sticks to try and wake it up and frighten it away. [VII, 109] Even if it were admitted that the elephant’s sole claim to distinction were its bulk—though great size smacks of ostenta¬ tiousness—it is unfair to compare it with creatures endowed with all kinds of noble qualities, or animals with pre-eminent claims to fame. Imagine a creature that combined the elephant’s huge bulk with noble virtues sufficient to fill many sheets of paper and cover large pieces of parchment! Your whale is known to be so ignorant of its own proper food that it is a glutton for ambergris; and ambergris is deadlier for it than oleander is for beasts of burden. When a dead whale is found, large quantities of putrefied ambergris are taken from its body. The only use for it is that its oil is used for seasoning the timbers of boats. Jâhiz continues his review of the peculiarities of elephants and other exotic animals. 54. Fear in certain animals [VII, 137] .. . When an elephant catches sight of a lion, it sees its resemblance to a cat and supposes that it has to do with an enormous cat; and this delusion, this likeness and similarity, arouses the same terror in it as the sight of a cat. If it runs away from the lion, it is not because it is its quarry or is afraid of being attacked by it—even though it does in fact serve as prey for wild beasts of various sizes; has anybody ever seen a lion kill and devour an elephant? The ele¬ phant, frightened though it may be, could still give the lion a kick

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that would kill it, put it to flight or at least send it flying. Why should it be held against the elephant that it feels revulsion at the sight of a cat? If you wave a torch in a lion’s face, or clang a basin, it runs away; this is exactly similar to the revulsion a horse feels at the sight of water, as a result of which it refuses to drink even if it is thirsty. Experts say that when a horse stirs up still water with its foreleg it is not because it prefers it cloudy—in contradistinction to the ox, which seeks out clear water for choice—but because in still water it sees its own reflection and that of other things, which frighten it. It paws the water because it knows that disturbed water does not give re¬ flections: such at least is the view of these experts. As for the author of Logic [VII, 138] and other scholars who pride themselves on their knowledge of animals, they say that the horse prefers cloudy water to clear, just as camels only like muddy water. The argument continues between the protagonists of the elephant, the hippopotamus, etc. After some gnomic and satirical verses, the author reverts to the subject of the elephant and other animals. 55. Superiority of the camel [VII, 194] . . . The king of Persia had had a Bedouin brought before him to amuse him with his rustic ignorance. He asked him: ‘Whose cry carries furthest?’ ‘The camel’s.’ ‘What has the tenderest meat?’ ‘The camel.’ ‘What carries the heaviest burdens?’ ‘The camel.’ ‘What!’ exclaimed the king, ‘how can it be the camel’s cry that carries furthest, when the call of the crane can be heard from so many miles away?’ ‘Put the crane in the camel’s place and the camel in the crane’s, and you will soon see which of their cries carries the further!’ The king went on: ‘How can camel-meat be tenderer than the meat of ducks, chickens, young pigeons, [VII, 195] partridges or kids?’ ‘Cook some chicken in salted water, and then do the same with camelmeat, and you will soon see the difference!’ ‘How can you claim’, continued the king, ‘that the camel can carry heavier burdens than the elephant, seeing that the latter can carry so-and-so many pounds?’ ‘Let the camel and the elephant both kneel down, and the latter’s load be placed on the back of the former; if it can get up again, then it is the stronger.’ Some say: It is not the camel’s ability to get up under its load that makes it superior to animals able to carry heavier burdens. The camel can get up from a kneeling position thanks to its long neck and flexible instep; and as to the size of their loads, the difference between the camel and the elephant is so great that they are not to be compared.

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56. The elephant's ear [VII, 201] ... I left [Baghdad] on a feast-day, and when I reached 'Isâbàd* I espied a mountain caparisoned with striped and flowered fabrics; and armed men were sitting on it. [VII, 202] I asked one of the passers-by the meaning of the armed men sitting there, and of the crowd of people round the mountain. ‘It is the elephant’, he replied. I went up to it with one object only, to look at its ears; but when I went away again after contemplating it for a long while, I had carefully scrutinized almost every part of its body except its ears. The reason for this was simply that my attention was absorbed by all the things I noticed about it, and consequently I forgot its ears, which were the main object of my curiosity. I spoke to Sahl b. Hârün* about the matter, and he told me that the same mishap had befallen him; then he recited two lines he had composed himself: I went to see the elephant, thinking I had a precise aim: to look at its ear and ponder on it. I did not see its ear, only a body so vast that it unites my forgetting and my remembering. Jâhiz continues his disquisition on elephants, tells some stories, refers to other animals, and brings the book abruptly to a close.

XXIX MULES Jâhiz says in the preamble that this book was to have formed part of a treatise on ungulates, but that he was prevented by illness from com¬ pleting the task. He begins by showing that mules are held in great esteem among the nobility, then describes the characteristics of the most highly prized strains, mentions the Prophet’s mules, and names im¬ portant personalities whose favourite mount was a mule. This leads him to a critique of 1. A forged tradition [23] . . . The story goes that once when a dispute had broken out between two clans of the Quraish*, 'Â’isha*, Mother of the Faithful, left her home mounted on a mule. Ibn Abï 'Atlq met her and asked: ‘Where are you going?’ ‘To reconcile the two clans.’ ‘By God’, he exclaimed, ‘we have hardly done washing our heads after the “Day of the Camel”, and now we shall have to start talking of the “Day of the Mule”!’ She laughed and went on her way. Here is an example of a forged tradition, a product of the imagina-

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tion of the extreme Shl'ites; its inventor must have supposed that if he brought in Ibn Abi 'Atiq’s* name, and made [24] an amusing story out of it, it would gain currency and become as popular as the traditions recorded by Umm Idabiba* and Safiyya*. If the forger had known the respect in which 'A’isha was held, he would not have tried to gain acceptance for this story. For 'All b. Abï Talib* said: ‘I had four people against me: the bravest of men (that is, al-Zubair*), the most generous of men (Talha*), the richest of men (Ya'lâ b. Munabbih*) and the most influential ('A’isha).’ Besides, any head of a Quraishite clan who received a message from 'A’isha would come running. Which of them, on receiving a behest from 'A’isha, would have refused to comply, so that she was obliged to go herself? Had there been prior exchanges of missives, negotiations, deadlocks and such like, for the situation to have compelled her to go in person? A dispute between two Quraishite clans that reached such a point as to require 'A’isha to leave her home would have been an important and notable event indeed. Which were the two clans? What sort of dispute was this, what was it about, and what started it? What Quraishite notable had addressed the disputants but gone unheeded, so that 'A’isha was compelled to go herself? . . . [25] . . . 'A’isha’s position is too exalted, her station too august in the eyes of all men of discernment, for such a forgery about an unknown feud between two unnamed clans to gain acceptance—all the more since the tradi¬ tion lacks the support of a chain of authorities. How could Ibn Abi 'Atiq, who was at Medina at the time, not have known about her leaving home, or about this mounting conflict between the two clans ? Besides, she is supposed to have been alone: but if 'A’isha had taken to the saddle, there is no Emigrant, no Defender, no general or cadi who would not have gone with her, to say nothing of the whole of the populace. Everybody needs mules; they are used for carrying presents but are also ridden by great men. The author quotes anecdotes and verses about mules and their character and life-span. 2. Origin of the onagers known as akhdariyya [85] . . . Scholars say that the asses called akhdariyya, which are the largest and handsomest of the onagers, originated as follows: horses belonging to the kings of Persia reverted to the wild state and mated with wild she-asses, which brought forth these beautiful onagers. Others say that the akhdariyya are asses from the Kâzima area that are virtually amphibious. But the mating of horses and asses can only yield mules, and mules do not have viable offspring: so how

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could the mating of these horses and she-asses have produced onagers which later multiplied in that part of the desert? When the king of Persia captured an onager when out hunting, he would mark it with his name and the date of capture and let it go again. If by chance the same onager was captured a second time, the royal cipher was added to that of the previous monarch and the animal again released. In this way it was possible to gain information about the life-span of these onagers. These animals, [86] or some of them at least, may have migrated to that area, for the water, soil and air there exert an influence well known among experts; when you see an Arab in Khurasan with a fair moustache, a reddish com¬ plexion and a thick neck, you may be sure he is descended from a Bedouin of quite different physical characteristics who came and settled in the area. Having listed the virtues of the mule, Jâhiz is careful, in accordance with his usual practice, also to set out its vices. He goes on quoting verses and anecdotes, of which the following is an example.

3. An Arabic lesson [99] ... I heard this anecdote from a scholar. A certain exalted personage said to 'Abd Allah b. al-Muqaffa'*: ‘My son speaks a language I do not understand. I should like you to meet him: if what he is speaking is a rare Arabic dialect, the case [is not serious], for it is still our own language; but if it is something he has invented, we must correct him.’ Ibn al-Muqaffa' went to see the son, and heard him say: ‘Slave, saddle me my black {aswad) horse.’ Ibn al-Muqaffa' took him up: ‘Say rather “the brown {adham) horse”, and stop saying “aswad”.’ T shall go on saying “aswad”; why [not]? Is not the horse black?’ ‘Certainly it is, but one does not say “aswad”.’ A minute later, the young man said: ‘Slave, saddle me my brown {adham) ass.’ ‘Do not call the ass “brown”’, rejoined Ibn al-Muqaffa': ‘one only speaks of it as “black” {aswad).’ ‘And why does one call it “black”?’ ‘Because it is black.’ ‘A moment ago you told me not to say “a black horse”, although it is black.’ ‘That is how Arabs speak.’ [100] ‘Well’, he cried, ‘either Arabs are the biggest fools in the world, or you are the biggest liar.’ I went back to his father, added Ibn al-Muqaffa', and said to him: ‘If you know a cure, try it, but I doubt whether there is one in all Galen’s works!’ Jâhiz next quotes a famous qasida by Abü Dulâma about his she-mule, and other verses for and against mules. Then he comes to an episode well known in the history of southern Arabia.

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4. The Abyssinian chief and his mounts [112] Masrüq b. Abraha al-Ashram* arrived at the head of the Abys¬ sinian army and took up his station opposite the troops of the Persian Wahriz* (for Ibn Dhl Yazan* had gone to Persia to seek help, and the king had sent his knight Wahriz back with him at the head of 300 men he had had released from prison for the purpose; he reckoned that if they were victorious he would get the credit, and if they were killed he would have rid his people of their misdeeds). Wahriz, who was very old, had his turban pulled down over his eyes. He said: ‘Point out their king to me.’ ‘He is the one on the elephant’, they answered him. ‘Do not shoot, for that is a regal mount.’ After a long interval, Masrüq dismounted from the elephant and got on to a horse. ‘He has dismounted from the elephant and got on to a horse’, they told Wahriz. ‘Leave him be’, he replied, ‘for he has a gallant steed.’ After another long pause, Masrüq slid down from the horse and was brought a mule, which he proceeded to mount. They told Wahriz: ‘He has dismounted from horseback and mounted a mule, son of an ass’, he cried. Now Masrüq was wearing a crown from which a ruby hung down in the middle of his forehead. Wahriz said to the soldiers who were near him: T am going to shoot; if you see his troops cluster round him and not break up, it will mean I have killed him: in that case charge them as one man. If they disperse, it will mean a shot [wasted].’ He let fly, and hit the ruby that hung [113] between his brows, which flew into smithereens; the arrow pierced the king’s head. His men rushed to gather round him, and did not break up. Then the Persians charged, and carried the day victorious. Jàhiz goes on to the end of the book quoting sundry anecdotes, and also verses about the sterility of the mule, hybrid animals, etc.

XXX CAPITAL CITIES AND THE WONDERS OF COUNTRIES 1. Generalities You asked me to write you a book about the respective merits of different countries, explaining how it is that men are content with their native lands even though while they stay in them they meet nothing but obstacles and hindrances, and showing what a broaden¬ ing and enriching experience it is to go abroad to earn one’s living.

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You say that a long sojourn in the same place is one of the causes of poverty, just as movement is one of the causes of prosperity, and quote the proverb: ‘Men take after their time more than after their father.’ But you overlook the influence of environment and the passage of time on men’s physique and character, their attributes and behaviour, their language and proclivities, their tastes and out¬ ward appearance and their trades and means of livelihood, as de¬ creed by God in His sublime wisdom and wondrous omnipotence. Praise be to Him who made variety a contributory cause of harmony, and doubt an invitation to conviction; praise be to Him who taught us the degradation of perplexity, the wretchedness of doubt, the power of conviction and the companionship of devotion. ‘Begin’, you say, ‘with Syria and Egypt, and indicate the differences between these two countries and the reasons for their beauty;’ and then you say that from there I shall be led on to speak of Iraq and the Hejaz, of the plateaux and lowlands of Arabia, of villages, capital cities, deserts and oceans. But remember that when one puts first that which should be last and vice versa, all natural order is upset and the normal sequence destroyed. I see no reason to deal with any other village before mentioning the mother of all villages: and so our best course will be to set out the characteristic features first of Mecca and then of Medina. Were it not incumbent on us to put first that which God put first and to leave until last that which He put last, there would be an irresistible temptation to begin with one’s native land, because of the place it occupies in men’s hearts. Is there not an old saying: ‘God has filled all countries, thanks to love of the fatherland’? And Ibn al-Zubair* said: ‘What men like best about their lot is their native land.’ Were it not for God’s lavish encouragement to each people to love what is within its reach and admire what is within its grasp, and were this tendency not rooted in men’s hearts and set in the forefront of their minds, the inhabitants of thickets and jungles would not dwell in these humid, low-lying places, nor remain among the flies and mosquitoes; settled peoples would not dwell on moun¬ tain-tops, and nomads would not remain among the wolves and vipers . . .; the peoples of the outermost parts of the empire would not take up their abode in dreadful wastes; troglodytes and dwellers in the bottoms of valleys would not be content with these habitats, and all would strive to live at the centre, at the heart of the land of the Arabs, in a secure and well-defended abode. It is the same with the choice of trades and livelihoods, names and tastes: [were it not for this tendency,] everyone would prefer the

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important to the lowly and the great to the small. Men commonly prefer the ugly to the beautiful when it comes to names, trades, abodes and dwelling-places, and that without being deceived or coerced. If everybody chose the noblest names, kunyas*, callings, propensities and ambitions and rejected the lowlier ones, it would mean an end of peaceful relations: essential distinctions would be blurred and rivalry break out, followed by strife and finally by open warfare, with the risk of mutual destruction and utter ruin. All praise be to God for His blessings, visible or hidden, known or unknown. God spoke of houses and made plain the place they occupy in the hearts of His servants: ‘Had we commanded them: “Kill yourselves”, or “Go forth from your dwellings”, they would not have done so, save only a few’1, thus placing suicide on the same plane as forsaking one’s home. He also said: . . Why, replied the counsellors, should we not fight in God’s way, now that we have been dispossessed of our dwellings, and our sons also?’2, thus placing the same importance on their leaving their homes as on their losing their sons. God evenly balanced the advantages of a settled life and a no¬ madic one, of leaving one’s country and remaining in it, and of that which is nobler and that which is more profitable; for he made income proportionate to the degree of activity and the quest for wealth. Even greater means can be gained from a long sojourn far from home, which adds to one’s knowledge, broadens one’s experi¬ ence and improves one’s judgment. For while inborn reasoning power is limited, reasoning power born of experience knows no bounds. Jâhiz reminds us that these are general comments, not aimed at any particular country; he then offers some thoughts on animals left behind on abandoned premises. There follows a text on the characteristics of the Quraishites which could well be an interpolation, though it could also be regarded as an introduction to the description of Mecca. But we are not after all given the latter: at least, the author mentions the Prophet’s conquest of the town, the well of Zamzam and the antiquity of the Ka’ba, and then goes on to the virtues of the Banü Hâshim and par¬ ticularly the Tàlibites:

2. Peculiarities of the Tàlibites* One of the unusual features that distinguish the descendants of Abü Talib* is the following. A preponderance of male births is not 1 Koran, IV, 69/66. 2 Koran, II, 247/246.

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common in any country or nation except among the people of Khurasan and countries on this side of it; likewise beyond Egypt women invariably bring forth a majority of girl children, always as twins and never singly. Now the descendants of Abü lalib exhibit a tendency to produce male children which is without parallel any¬ where or at any time. A few years ago a census was taken of them, and it was found that out of a total of about 2,300 souls the excess of women over men amounted to fewer than ten, which is quite remark¬ able. If you wish to ascertain the average excess of girls over boys and female animals over males, mark out an area of forty cubits in each direction and count the men and women in it, and you will have confirmation of what we have been saying. Then you will appreciate that the only reason why God permitted one man four wives at the same time, and an unlimited number of concubines, was so that they should not be left without husbands. Then consider the eggs that hatch and the female animals that give birth: you will find fifty hens in a house to one cock, forty to a hundred she-camels to every male, and a whole herd of wild she-asses with only one stallion. Jâhiz sets out other peculiarities of the Tàlibites, and sings 'All’s praises; he admits that he had intended to speak of Mecca but let himself be carried away, yet despite this he continues to sing the praises of the Quraishites, saying in particular that they managed to remain generous even though they engaged in trade.

3. Religion and character There is stranger still to come. It is known that before the Byzantines embraced Christianity they held their own against the kings of Persia, and that war raged continually between the two peoples, with varying fortunes. When they adopted a religion which forbade them to kill, fight, take revenge or apply the law of retaliation, they fell a prey to a sort of faintheartedness, so that it became a strain on them to go into battle. When this religion sank into their character and took hold of their body and blood, entirely against their natural inclinations, they forsook the victor’s camp for that of the van¬ quished. Somewhat similar was the fate of the Toquz Oghuz*, who were a tower of strength to the Turks and showed themselves far superior to the Kharlukh*, though only a tenth of their numbers: when they adopted Manichaeism—a religion even worse than Christianity so far as pacifism and abhorrence of war are con¬ cerned—their courage declined and their vigour disappeared. Jâhiz reverts to the Quraishites, who gave up raiding in order to engage in trade and travel widely for that purpose, while still retaining their

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

warlike virtues. Then he goes on to Medina, and devotes much space to a scent peculiar to the town. Next comes Egypt, in connection with which he recalls the many references to it in the Koran; he draws various com¬ parisons, notably between the Nile, the Tigris and the Euphrates, and then devotes a long passage to his native town, and of course compares it with Küfa.

4. Basra* and Küfa* The traveller making for Qasr Anas espies an expanse of moist earth, with soil like camphor; he finds people hunting lizards, pur¬ suing gazelles and fishing with both line and net, and hears the song of the boatman at his tiller as well as the chant of the camel-driver in the saddle. Above the cemetery at Basra is a place called al-Kharir, where people say the air is cooler, the breeze gentler and the evenings pleasanter than anywhere. Ja'far b. Sulaimân* said: ‘Iraq is the eye of the world, Basra the eye of Iraq, the Mirbad the eye of Basra and my house the eye of the Mirbad . . The people of Küfa say that Basra will be the first town in the world to be ruined, that it has the worst soil, is the furthest from heaven, and will be the first to be engulfed by the waves: the water will come up out of the sea, submerge it and return to the ocean. What do they know about it, seeing that they only manage to bring floodwater to their reservoirs after raising it thirty cubits up in the air? The people of Küfa find fault with Basra water, though in fact it is soft and free from the mud and sand that pollute the water of Küfa and Baghdad; for it has a long sojourn in the Batïha*, and arrives at Basra sweet, pure and soft. If you say that running water is more wholesome than stagnant water, I reply: How can it be stagnant, with these huge waves and gale-force winds stirring it up all the time? The quality of Basra water is demonstrated by the longevity of the inhabitants, their intellectual well-being, their manual skill and their talent for every kind of profession or calling, as to which they have not their equal in the whole world. Its good quality is apparent from the whiteness of their crockery, from the sweetness of water that has stood overnight in earthenware, and from the colour of their bricks, which look as though they were moulded out of yolk of egg. The buildings, with the pale mortar peeping out between the yellow brickwork, are like nothing so much as gold inlaid with silver. During the period when the tide runs up [the Tigris], the people of Basra have only to go less than a parasang, and sometimes even less than a mile, to draw pure, clear, wholesome fresh water. The Küfa canal ... is nothing but an arm of the Euphrates; sometimes it runs

JÂHIZ’S OWN PARTICULAR TYPE OF ADAB

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dry, and then the people have to go at least a parasang to draw water, and are even reduced to digging wells in the bed of their canal. Vegetables and trees suffer severely at these times. What a vile, baneful watercourse! Of all the canals that join the Tigris at Basra, there is none larger, wider or more considerable than the Küfa canal at the point where the bridge of boats has been built. This comprises but seven boats, and cannot be used by beasts of burden, for it con¬ sists simply of stakes lashed together without a surfacing of clay; even pedestrians find it difficult to negotiate, and horses, oxen and camels all the more so. Much of Küfa is in ruins, and the traveller who stops the night there might imagine himself in a country village, to judge by the cries of jackals, foxes and other wild animals he hears. You are no doubt aware of the large number of brimming canals at Basra, and of the town’s plentiful water-supply. A palm-tree there has a life of 120 years and remains as straight as an arrow. But from the outskirts of a village called al-Nïl to the furthest of the Küfa canals there is not a palm-tree of any size that is not bowed like a sickle. Moreover no palm grower from any corner of the earth has ever been known to come to Küfa for his seedlings, for everyone knows that they grow in bad soil and are weakly and of poor quality. At night in the month of Ramadan the people of Küfa enjoy no luxury or pomp in their main mosque. Their minaret is of a different shape from that at Basra, being modelled on the bell-towers of the Melkites and Jacobites. We saw the ruins of a mosque there that is said to have been built by 'Ali b. Ab! Talib*, but is now the haunt of dogs and wild beasts. Yet if there were a house at Basra to which 'Alï had paid so much as a fleeting visit, the people of Basra would flock there [to steep themselves in its sanctity], and devote their efforts and their resources to preserving it. A traveller who has several times stopped the night at Küfa told me that he never once saw the stars, for it was always overcast. The water there is oily, and the markets bear witness to the penury of the native population. The people of Küfa dislike the people of Basra more than the latter dislike them. The people of Basra are friendlier, and less arrogant and conceited. It is strange to find the people of Baghdad joining with those of Küfa to cry shame on us for using manure on our plantations and palm-groves, when they themselves manure their vegetables with pure dried excrement; once the vegetables come up and start to sprout, they sprinkle them with powdered excrement so that it may lodge between the leaves. When a Küfan sets out to build a house, he goes to the sewage-dump and makes bricks out of dung;

194

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

and then if there is a dip or hollow on the site, he levels it by filling it in with dung. If our manure merchants got hold of such stuff, they would sell it at a high price! Moreover they stoke their ovens with all kinds of sweepings and with dung and excrement, and their blacksmiths’ furnaces likewise. The wells in their houses are full of excrement: and when they do not know where else to put it, they dig holes under the floor, sometimes even in the ante-room or the best part of the house. People who behave in this way are hardly in a position to find fault with the people of Basra for manuring their land. There can be nowhere better for people to live than a place where money is not scarce and prices are moderate. In towns in Syria and other countries, where the dinar* and the dirham* are scarce, every¬ thing is cheap because the export of local produce would require long-distance transport and the home market is limited, with the result that supply always exceeds demand. At al-Ahwâz*, Baghdad and al-'Askar* dirhams are plentiful, but prices are high because of the size of the population and the amount of money in circulation. At Basra prices are moderate and the cost of goods fixed at a reason¬ able level; the same is true of manufactured articles and workmen’s wages. Imagine a town where from the beginning of the harvest season and for several months on end at least 2,000 baskets of dates a day come in and not one basket remains overnight, unless of course the owner himself keeps one till the next day. If he gave a discount of a qirat on every thousand pounds he would be utterly ruined. To build a house in any part of Baghdad, Küfa or al-Ahwâz, and give it a good finish, one must reckon an outlay of 100,000 dirhams-, the same thing at Basra costs under 50,000. The building of a house calls for clay, baked or unbaked bricks, plaster, teak wood, ordinary wood, iron and workmen, and all these things are cheaper by half at Basra than elsewhere; this is a well-known fact. We have never known a town other than Basra where prices are moderate despite a large population. The food is good there, prices are very low, and dates are extremely plentiful and give a good yield of syrup of excellent keeping qualities; the variety known as shahriz will keep for twenty years, at the end of which time more dates can be added to it to produce good quantities of a smooth, strong, sweet syrup. The people of Basra have the advantage of the tide, which occurs with perfect regularity in accordance with the phases of the moon. The water comes up to their front doors, and they let it in or keep it out as they wish. It is surprising that people decry Basra because of

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the proximity of the sea and the Batlha, whereas in fact if the world’s most learned and fluent writer were to try to collect together the advantages of these Batlha marshes into a book, he would have an impossible task. Ziyâd* used to say: ‘A reed is worth more than a palm-tree.’ Now what I am going to say is the plain unvarnished truth: I did my utmost to catalogue the advantages of different kinds of reeds, their uses and the things that can be made out of them, but failed and had to abandon the idea. I confess my inadequacy and acknowledge defeat. As for our sea, it is worth all others put together, for there is no other into which God has put so many blessings; it communicates with the Indian Ocean, which extends for an unknown distance. People say how salt the sea is, and despise and belittle it, whereas it is out of the sea that God creates pearls that fetch 50,000 dinars apiece, and at the bottom of the sea that He creates ambergris, and perhaps you know how costly that is. How can something that yields these two substances be despised? The marshes and the sea are our very own, and you get nothing from them unless we send you what we have left over. The extract that has survived ends with a few lines about al-HIra.

XXXI

SUPERIORITY OF THE BLACKS TO THE WHITES

Jâhiz sets out to write a disquisition on the glories of the Negro race. He quotes memorable sayings by Negroes, and goes on to enumerate the famous men (Luqmân, Sa'id b. Jubair, Bilal, etc.) who were black, quoting apposite verses by each of them.

1. The Zanj* [67] Negroes say: Everybody agrees that there is no people on earth in whom generosity is as universally well developed as the Zanj; and this is a quality found only in those of noble character. These people have a natural talent for dancing to the rhythm of the tam¬ bourine, without needing to learn it. There are no better singers any¬ where in the world, no people more polished and eloquent, and no people less given to insulting language. All other peoples in the world have their stammerers, those who have difficulty in pronouncing certain sounds, and those who cannot express themselves fluently or are downright tongue-tied, except the Zanj. Sometimes some of them 14

196

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

hold forth before their ruler continuously from sunrise to sunset, without needing to turn round or pause in their flow. No other nation can surpass them in bodily strength and physical toughness. One of them will lift huge blocks and carry heavy loads that would be beyond the strength of most Bedouins or members of other races. They are courageous, energetic and generous, which are the virtues of nobility, and also good-tempered and with little propensity to evil. They are always cheerful, smiling and devoid of malice, which is a sign of a noble character. Some people say that their generosity is due to their stupidity, shortsightedness and lack of foresight, but our reply is that this is a scurvy way of commending generosity and al¬ truism. At that rate the wisest and most intelligent man would be the most niggardly and ungenerous. But in fact the Slavs are more niggardly than the Byzantines [68], and the latter more intelligent and thoughtful; according to our opponents’ argument, the Slavs ought to be more generous and open-handed than the Byzantines . . . The Zanj say to the Arabs: You are so ignorant that during the jâhiliyya* you regarded us as your equals [when it came to marrying] Arab women, but with the advent of the justice of Islam you decided this practice was bad. Yet the desert is full of Negroes married to Arab wives, and they have been princes and kings and have safe¬ guarded your rights and sheltered you against your enemies. Jâhiz mentions other famous Negroes, and refers to the exploits of the Abyssinians, the things their country produces, etc. He asserts that black is superior to other colours. Negroes are proud of their great numbers; also, the Arabs do not really know them, since all they see is Negro slaves. After some reflections on cross-breeding between races, and on men’s taste for the female slaves commonest in their own countries, he repeats that the blacks outnumber the whites, and gives his view on the

2. Origin of black skin [81] . . . We say that God did not make us black in order to dis¬ figure us; rather it is our environment that has made us so. The best evidence of this is that there are black tribes among the Arabs, such as the Banü Sulaim b. Mansür*, and that all the peoples settled [82] in the Harra* besides the Banü Sulaim are black. These tribes take slaves from among the Ashbân* to mind their flocks and for irrigation work, manual labour and domestic service, and their wives from among the Byzantines; and yet it takes less than three genera¬ tions for the Harra to give them all the complexion of the Banü Sulaim. This Harra is such that the gazelles, ostriches, insects, wolves.

JÀHIZ’S OWN PARTICULAR TYPE OF ADAB

197

foxes, sheep, asses, horses and birds that live there are all black. White and black are the results of environment, the natural properties of water and soil, distance from the sun and intensity of heat. There is no question of metamorphosis, or of punishment, disfigurement or favour meted out by God. Besides, the land of the Banü Sulaim has much in common with the land of the Turks, where the camels, beasts of burden and everything belonging to these people is similar in appearance: everything of theirs has a Turkish look. The soldiers of the frontier garrisons on this side of the 'Awâsim* sometimes come across Byzantine sheep mixed up with sheep belonging to the local inhabitants, but they have no difficulty in distinguishing the Byzantine flocks from the Syrian by their ‘Byzantinity’. When one comes across the descendants of Bedouin men and women who have ended up in Khurasan, it is immediately apparent that they are the barbarians of these parts. The author reiterates his theory about the influence of environment on skin colour, quotes some verses, and then proceeds to deal with

3. Indian culture [84] ... As regards the Indians, they are among the leaders in astronomy, mathematics—in particular, they have Indian numerals —and medicine; they alone possess the secrets of the latter, and use them to practise some remarkable forms of treatment. They have the art of carving statues and painted figures. They possess the game of chess, which is the noblest of games and requires more judgment and intelligence than any other. They make Kedah swords, and excel in their use. They have splendid music, including that of the kankala*, an instrument with a single string mounted on a gourd, which takes the place of the many-stringed lute and cymbals. They know a number of sprightly dances . . ., and are versed in magic and fumi¬ gation . . . They possess a script capable of expressing the sounds of all languages, as well as many numerals. They have a great deal of poetry, many long treatises, and a deep understanding of philosophy and letters; the book Kalila wa-Dimna* originated with them. They are intelligent and courageous, and have more good qualities than the Chinese. Their sound judgment and sensible habits led them to invent pins, cork, toothpicks, the drape of clothes and the dyeing of hair. They are handsome, attractive and forbearing, their women are proverbial, and their country produces the matchless Indian aloes which are supplied to kings. They were the originators of the science oïfikr, by which a poison can be counteracted after it has been used,

198

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

and of astronomical reckoning, subsequently adopted by the rest of the world. [85] When Adam descended from Paradise, it was to their land that he made his way. The concluding lines are once more concerned with the Zanj.

XXXII

THE FOOD OF THE EARLY ARABS

This text is a continuation of the Book of Misers (see XLI below), but we have separated it because it furnishes valuable terminological and sociological information on Bedouin food. After some details about the terminology of the various meals, the author lists the forbidden foods to which the early Arabs were sometimes compelled to turn, mentions various customs, collates verses dealing with cooking-pots, and passes on to the subject of the choicest foods known to the Bedouins. Then he tackles the question of the eating of dogs and human flesh.

Cannibalism among the early Arabs [339] . . . The Asadites are accused in lampoons of eating dogs and human flesh. In the old days, if there was one particularly wicked man in a tribe, all the other members of it were given a bad name—just as, conversely, the fame of a good deed by one member redounded on the whole tribe. The Quraishites* were lampooned for eating sakhina*, and the 'Abd al-Qais* for eating dates, but these things form part of the normal diet of the two tribes in question, and in any case they are both useful foods. Conversely a tribe may be accused of eating dogs or human flesh when only one man has done so, and even that may on investigation turn out to have been excusable . . . [340] . . . The whole of the tribe of Asad* was accused of cannibal¬ ism on account of Ramla bint Fa’id . . ., who was eaten by her husband and her brother Abü Arab. This deed is said to have been provoked simply by anger and jealousy on the part of the two culprits. Reproaching them with it, Ibn Dàra* said: [341 ] . . . Ramla was the wife of one of you and the sister of one of you. To speak of it brings a blush to the cheek. Abü Arab, what is your notion of kinship, seeing that your table was covered with large pieces of her flesh ? He also said: After Ramla bint Fa’id, you must be short of wives to come trustingly to you, O Band Fafas*!

JÂHIZ’S OWN PARTICULAR TYPE OF ADAB

199

She spent the night as a young bride, but in the morning her body was brought in pieces to her husband, in pots and dishes! . . . Ma'rüf al-Dubairï* said on this subject: If you seek hospitality at night from a Faq asi, eat nothing in his house; For the meat will be human flesh. Do not touch it: the best food is that which is not unlawful. The author then quotes verses on the way to seek hospitality, the efforts of the nobility to gain their livelihood, and the solemnity of Bedouin oaths.

%

Ill Traditional adab, merging into the portrayal of people and society MANNERS

XXXIII

Letter for this world and the next on manners, conduct and human relationships

CHARACTER TRAITS

XXXIV XXXV XXXVI XXXVII XXXVIII XXXIX XL XLI XLII XLIII

Jest and earnest The difference between hostility and envy The envious and the envied The art of keeping secrets and holding one’s tongue Superiority of speech to silence True and assumed nobility; an attack on pride Stewards Misers Robbers and their tricks Vagrants and their tricks

EMOTIONS

XLIV XLV XLVI XLVII

Love and women Singing slave-girls Superiority of the belly to the back Boasting-match between girls and pretty boys

SOCIAL GROUPS

XLVIII XLIX

In praise of tradesmen and disparagement of officialdom An attack on secretaries

MANNERS XXXIII LETTER FOR THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT ON MANNERS, CONDUCT AND HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS After commending his correspondent for the virtues he has always displayed, the author (who has benefited from his friendship) feels impelled to send him

1. A token of gratitude [5] ... I was under an obligation to show you my gratitude, indeed felt guilty that I could not begin to repay the debt I owed you, but had to confess myself unequal to the task. I could but summon up all my eloquence to sing your praises and extol your virtues, at the same time telling my hearers that I was powerless to exhaust them all . . . Then I recalled that I still had one way of showing my gratitude: by doing you a favour which would be within my powers, provide you with something indispensable, and profit you considerably both in this world and the next, if God wills. I am still—may God grant you long life!—harnessed to the same task, namely collecting, [6] studying and pondering over books. Now it is well known that much reading gives a man an insight into the minds of scientists and an understanding of the character of prophets and scholars, living and dead, of all nations—not to mention the writings of all religious orders. So I decided to write you a book of adab*, bringing together various theories about the life hereafter and life here on earth, and setting out for you the causes of things, their outward appearance and their generally accepted significance. This, I felt, would be one of the best ways of demonstrating my affection for you and one of the surest methods of gaining your favour. Jàhiz points out that earlier writers have not dealt satisfactorily with this subject; he himself, however, proposes to describe the instincts of all beings and analyse the motives that actuate them. This is necessary, because the rules of adab apply equally to the endeavour to lead a better life on earth and to preparation for the life hereafter. He therefore first

TRADITIONAL ADAB

203

recommends his correspondent to fear God, and then sets out to guide him in his choice of associates and his manner of dealing with them. 2. Relations with one's associates [22] The people you choose to have round you will be of varying rank and station, and you will need them all. Each class offers you advantages that you could not get from other, more exalted groups; but advice and assistance will be abundantly forthcoming from all. You may have recourse to one man for his opinion or suggestions, make another the faithful repository of your secrets, look to another again for energy and vigour, and rely on yet another for devoted hard work: each has his part to play in the role assigned to him. A wise man once said: ‘Natural gifts succeed where the sword fails.’ Be heedful and considerate with each one, whether of exalted or more lowly station, rewarding them when they do well and admonishing them when they fall short, so that they may know that your eye and ear are always on them. Keep each one in his place and do not in¬ volve him in matters outside his province, and you will find that your affairs will prosper and they will all serve you faithfully. [23] There will be occasions in your relations with others when you will have to handle all sorts of people. You will acquire great merit and achieve the ultimate in discernment and good manners if you treat them kindly, but without becoming involved in their passions or allowing their indignation to move you. In this way you will avoid imperilling your faith, your honour or your person, and will acquire the authority that is born of forbearance and the in¬ fluence that is bred of dignified aloofness. These situations are of many kinds, but the principle is always the same. It may happen, for instance, that you arrive at a gathering and sit in a lowlier place than you are entitled to; in that event, remain where you are until those whose place it really is invite you to move forward, so that attention may be drawn to your rank and importance. Or it may chance that people are talking casually on some topic about which you know as much or more than they, all vying with one another to display their knowledge. If then you join in the contest, you become merely one of them. If, however, you keep silent, they will press you to speak; you will appear to be doing them a favour by giving your opinion, and they will listen more attentively to you than to any of the others. You may also find your friends engaging in heated debate; now acrimoniousness in discussion is the product of stubbornness and the fruit of pride, and if you remain aloof they will take you for their arbiter and defer to your judgment.

204

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

Remember that people with a natural fondness for power and dom¬ ination tend to resent those placed in authority over them. So try to win the sympathy of the ordinary people by your modesty, and the affection of your friends by your kindness to them, by seeking their opinion and by showing the trust and confidence you repose in them. Jâhiz next deals with the attitudes to be adopted towards friend and enemy. Thence, through a consideration of credulity, he is led to some thoughts on

3. Knowledge of the invisible [24] . . . Knowledge of things unseen, of whatever kind, may be gained in three ways and three ways only—not that you or anyone else can achieve absolute certainty, for God reserved that privilege for himself. Your life will not be happy if you are unduly circum¬ spect, but equally things will go amiss if you commit yourself rashly. Try to find the happy mean in the matter. There are things that are visible though not seen by you; they have been seen by others, or recorded in traditions guaranteed by unbroken chains of transmission and universally accepted. In such cases there is no need to test their veracity, and consequently the scholar and the ignoramus are on equal terms. But there are also more personal traditions, which can only be ascertained by questioning the transmitters and dragging them out of them by surprise. Let us suppose that several persons have trans¬ mitted the same tradition: though not everyone would be so percep¬ tive, a man like you knows very well that such persons, in widely different walks of life and too far distant from each other to have been acquainted, could not have conspired together to forge the tradition. In such cases fraud can be ruled out, and coincidental error is unlikely. [25] Finally there are even more personal traditions, transmitted by one or two men who are equally capable of lying or of telling the truth. You will be really convinced of the authenticity of such a tradition only to the extent that you think well of the transmitter and trust his honesty; but it will never have the same value, for you or for anyone else, as the two former categories. Otherwise there would be no point in the professional study of religion, and things visible and things hidden, in this world and the next, would be on the same footing. Jâhiz next deals with the reaching of conviction via hypothesis and proof, and then passes on abruptly to

TRADITIONAL ADAB

205

4. The friend [26] . . . Nothing you possess deserves to be more jealously safe¬ guarded or more vigilantly cherished than the friend whom you have proved through thick and thin, whose ways you know, whose virtues you have tested, whose inmost thoughts are pure and whose atti¬ tude to you is one of frankness. He is the brother of your soul and the gateway [27] to peace in your lifetime; his thoughts are an extension of yours and his mind the twin of yours. A solitary life will do you no good: a man needs company. But frequent changes of friends mean continual trouble. If a friend shows himself completely true to you, prize him more jealously than the most precious of your treasures. Above all, be not tempted to give him up on account of one or two traits that displease you. For even your own character, which is after all the closest to you of all, does not conform to your wishes in every respect: and so much the less another man’s. Be satisfied with the greater part of your friend, for wise men have rightly said: ‘How shall you possess the whole of your friend? What man is perfect?’ But do not let this stop you seeking to have many friends; for they are soldiers in readiness to serve you, and they will noise your virtues abroad and take your part. Do not let the attraction of novelty in the company of another friend lead you to tire of an old one; that would be stupid, contemptible and clumsy, and would deter anyone from seeking your friendship. God grant you success. The author next examines the most reprehensible faults: untruthfulness, anger, envy and pride. Wise men esteem the corresponding virtues. Men are judged by the company they keep and by their day-to-day actions. The author advises his correspondent to be kindly to his inferiors and respectful to his superiors, to impute blame only on certain knowledge, and to jest as little as possible. Then he tells him

5. How to behave to one's friends [31] ... I recommend to you a quality that I have found in few men, for it is difficult to practise and hard to acquire, and so guaran¬ tees nobility and renown. It consists in not despising a friend of yours who has suffered a setback, and not denying him his rights, nor letting him be lowered in your esteem; indeed, if you regard him a little more highly it will be much to your credit and gain you popu¬ larity. It consists also, in the event that one of your friends has a stroke of good fortune, in not humbling yourself before him, not

206

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

pandering to him, nor treating him with more deference than his equals; indeed, if you show a certain reserve towards him you will win more praise than blame, and the person concerned will be all the more amiable to you. Unless, of course, it is a matter of a really powerful man who could do you harm [32], and you have hopes that he will either help or refrain from injuring a friend of yours, or that he will humiliate an enemy. For power, with its lustre and glamour, makes bearable behaviour that in others would be intolerable, and excuses that which would otherwise be inexcusable. The risàla ends with some general advice.

CHARACTER TRAITS XXXIV

JEST AND EARNEST

Jâhiz reproaches Ibn al-Zayyât with punishing him unduly severely for some unspecified misbehaviour on his part, and attributes this action to

1. Anger [63] . . . Anger is one of Satan’s characteristics, and passion shows itself in the guise of a woman. Only [64] a man whose character and cardinal humours are well balanced and his temperament equable can distinguish shameful behaviour from noble actions. By God, I did not like to see you showing excessive pleasure, which I feared might lead to unbridled passion; but what am I to say when I find you a prey to inordinate anger and ungovernable rage—all the more since you were never a man accustomed to self-control, schooled in forbearance or ready to make room for the bitter pill of forgiveness? It is essential to consider the long-term consequences of one’s actions rather than their immediate effect. I feared you might tend towards excessive satisfaction, but what am I to think of your inordinate rage? Sorrow is a sickness which, though mortal, allows the patient a re¬ spite . . ., but anger is a senseless, insane sickness, quick and terrible, that allows the patient time neither to come to his senses again nor yet to make his will; its severity is proportionate to the incan¬ descence of the bilious humour. The hot-headed man is in the wrong even if he succeeds, and all the more when he fails: subject to the further point that his failure accentuates the fact of his offence, whereas his success does not di¬ minish the gravity of his error. You are not only a human being, [65] you are also from head to foot an animal; and the scourge of anger woiTTmorffquickly on noble, refined beings and has less effect on brute beasts. That is why I was so distressed to see the hold and dominance that wrath had over you. Quoting well-known precedents, the author proceeds to list all the crimes that Ibn al-Zayyât could, in his anger, have committed, and ex¬ plains to him that

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

2, The punishment must be proportional to the offence Do not lay yourself open to the hostility of intelligent reporters of traditions, to the hatred of collectors of tribal misdeeds, or to the tongues of men known for their seriousness and single-mindedness in research and their abhorrence of gossip and profitable [66] in¬ vention, at least inasmuch as it lies within your power easily to avoid it by adopting a different mode of behaviour. Do not chastise a friend, even if he drives you to it, and do not tire of long spells of his company; be content with his old friendship, for it is better than another man’s new. Friendship inspired by the lure of novelty is illusory, and to tire of a friend is the mark of a mean spirit. The relative seriousness of different offences is a complex question, and the degree of punishment they call for is not immediately obvious. Without an understanding of the gravity of the offence it is quite impossible to decide what punishment is appropriate; for crimes are of many kinds, and cover a wide range. If you would understand the discrepancy between the wrong done you and the punishment you have exacted for it, you must consider its cause, its circumstances, the seam from whence it came, the nest from which it took wing, and the soil in which it grew; consider also to what extent the culprit acted impulsively or deliberately, whether he afterwards desisted or con¬ tinued in wrongdoing, whether he was impudent when you rebuked him, or showed the blush of shame at the first reference to his mis¬ deed, and whether he showed a quick understanding when you aimed covert hints in his direction. Quick understanding may be a mark of great thoughtfulness, and people’s boldness or timidity is pro¬ portional to their solicitude. When a misdeed is motivated by brava¬ do, narrowmindedness, natural coarseness or violent humours, arises from a misunderstanding, a false interpretation, excessive sensitivity or overweening conceit as the sequel to a slight received or a favour done to another, is the result of confidence in one’s case or encourage¬ ment from others, or the consciousness of having been unfairly treated or downgraded, or is due to slander or calumnious accusa¬ tions of deeds which the culprit might reasonably have committed— when a misdeed is of this sort [67] and has been committed under such circumstances and conditions, then a magnanimous man lets it pass, and a wise man pays no attention . . . When, however, the sole motive for an offence is hatred, then a man would be exonerated by intelligent people and approved by scholars of noble character if he insisted that the culprit’s punish¬ ment should be his condemnation to hell-fire. When an offence is due to a congenital illness, or the culprit is

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made up of nothing but wickedness and the urge to do evil, then kill him as you would a scorpion, and crush his head as you would a snake’s. When the culprit is one of those who slander you, seeking occasions to harm you in the hope of forcing you to give them something under the stress of fear or safeguard your honour out of dread of scandal, then refuse him your favours and see to it that he gets none from others . . . As for the erring friend, do not harm him, but close your eyes to his offence, even if he has injured you in your [68] property and possessions, or wounded you in that which you hold most dear. But thenceforth be not deceived by his protestations of friendship, nor view him with favour on the strength merely of his claim to be very attached to you. Observe for yourself what he says, his way of pronouncing the words, his tone of voice, his attitude, disposition, character and temperament, his outward behaviour and his inmost thoughts, his hesitancy or boldness; assess the depth of his affliction by the degree of his distraughtness; see whether he grows heated in your defence when your name is mentioned, whether he breaks with your opponents and takes the side of your friends, whether he shrinks from the danger or faces it, and whether he dissembles or throws off the mask. After some further observations about the bonds of friendship, the author reverts to the cause of the quarrel, indulges in some semantic comments, and warns Ibn al-Zayyàt against losing his temper; then, replying with unusual spirit to an oblique criticism of himself by his patron, he proceeds to inquire into

3. The best way of preserving documents [72] ... I heard you say, speaking of me but pretending to speak of another, or seeming to convey a comment to me without naming me explicitly: ‘I am really surprised at men who leave their working papers strewn about loose [73] and their notebooks scattered in disorder, without arranging them or tidying them up; they are risking their destruction, by not keeping them from getting scattered about. For a notebook with its strap broken, its fastening gone, its stitching undone, and bereft of any cover or protection, allows its pages to come loose; and once the pages have come loose it is difficult to put them together again and impossible to keep them together, and so most of them get lost. A double-sided cover, on the other hand, is convenient for keeping the pages together; a leather binding is a

210

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better protection; and a strap that goes right round them is better still. If the folders are kept tidy in a known sequence, there is no need then to shift numbers of book-boxes or delve about in chests often some distance apart. Hence it is less trouble to find them, and less anxiety. The concentration thus saved can be used for something else, or the energy devoted to helping a neighbour in distress. More¬ over the use of such a system is a convincing sign of love of learning, care for books, good organization and technical proficiency.’ I saw at once that this was the advice of an intelligent man and the opinion of a friend [74]—unless of course it was a sudden inspiration, a flash of genius, an irrepressible uprush of ideas or the irresistible overflow of a surfeit of learning, to which everyone is free to hearken or remain deaf. I put your words into practice and meekly followed your advice (having thanked God a thousand times for the learning from which you let your equals benefit, and the good care you take to pass it on); and when I had collected the pages together and sorted them out, made some headway in the choice of leathers, apprised myself of the merits of different bookbinders and settled the most propitious times for binding, spent my fortune and worried my head, divided my works into volumes arranged by categories, got the matter thoroughly organized and grouped all my books around me, judged it preferable to read lying on my back rather than standing up, in order to spare myself bodily fatigue (for the upright position soon strains the back, seeing that the lower part of the body supports the weight of the upper part), and also because a recumbent position is less tiring for the eyes and better for the preservation of visual acuity—at that moment I found that my hand was too weak to support the weight of any of my volumes, and my chest was being crushed by the sharp corners digging into my flesh and breaking my bones. I also found that if I read sitting down my sight became blurred, my back bent, my face swollen, my eyes focused in the wrong way and the direction of my field of vision upset. If I decided to get a slave to hold the book at eye-level for me, or give a slave-girl the task of holding it up in front of me, that meant putting myself at the mercy of the clumsiest of creatures, the most abrupt in their movements, the most fidgety, the most prone to fall asleep, the unsteadiest [75] and the most ignorant of the proper height and distance or the right moment to raise, lower, bend or straighten their arms. In the end, seeing how bored they were and how they hated and loathed doing it, I found that my hand and heart could better endure the fatigue of supporting the great weight of the book and the pain caused by its sharp corners. To hold it myself meant certain misery; to get someone else to do so meant

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terrible annoyance; and the upshot was that I was driven to give up books and read them no more, despite their usefulness and their great value for improving the character and inculcating good habits. Indeed, if the sole advantage of study lay in keeping people from gossip, frivolous amusements, scandal-mongering and the coveting of other people’s goods, it would still be of great value and prime importance in the realm of religion and religious duty. But when studying becomes a chore, the soul grows weary and nature shrinks from it. If something is unpleasant, in the end we give it up; or if compelled for long to do violence to ourselves, eventually it disgusts us. Now to give up all visual activity means blindness, and to go against nature saps vitality; for thought occurs in proportion to the need for it, just as the faculties are healthy or sick according to the condition of the brain, and a faculty functions, or the tongue moves, in proportion to the frequency of the demand on it, whereas want of exercise and long inactivity lead to impotence and weakness and slow down the mind. When clarity of exposition goes, explanation suffers: and when explanation is impaired it is the ruin of material and spiritual life. So you have got what you wanted and obtained what you sought: now be content to have crushed the head of a man who loved you, and killed a friend who would have died for you. Jâhiz continues in ironic vein to explore the reasons for his punishment; then he reverts to his previous train of thought and examines

4. The disadvantages of parchment [77] . . . What is it to you that all my books are written on China paper or Khurasan paper? Explain why you have pressed on me the advantages of using parchment and urged me to write on hide, when you know very well that parchment is heavy and cumbersome, is useless if it gets damp, and swells in wet weather—so much so that were its sole disadvantage to make its users hate rainy days, and its owners regard a shower as a nightmare, this alone would be reason enough for giving up the stuff. You know very well that on rainy days copyists [78] do not write a single line or cut a single skin. Parchment has only to get moist, let alone left out in the rain or dipped in water, for it to bulge and stretch; and then it does not return to its original state, but dries noticeably shrunk and badly wrinkled. What is more, it smells worse, is more expensive, and lends itself more readily to fraud: Wasit* skins are passed off as Küfa ones, and Basra* ones as Wasit ones. You are obliged to leave it to age in order to get rid of the smell and for the hair to fall out; 15

212

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÀHIZ

it is fuller of lumps and flaws, more is wasted in scraps and clippings, it turns yellow sooner, and the writing very quickly disappears alto¬ gether. If a scholar wished to take with him enough parchment for his journey, a camel-load would not suffice, whereas the equivalent in qutnl* could be carried with his provisions. You said: ‘You should use parchment because it stands up better to scratching out and correction, and also to repeated borrowing and handling; then unwanted sheets are still worth something, palimp¬ sests can be re-used, and second-hand parchment does the same job as new. Writing-books of qutnl are of little value on the market, even if they contain the most original texts, the choicest rarities and the most priceless learning. If you went to sell books of an equivalent number of parchment pages containing nothing but the feeblest poetry and the idlest gossip, they would be in much greater demand.’ And you added: ‘Hide is entrusted with the accounts of the admini¬ strative system, with title-deeds, diplomas, contracts and surveys; sculptors sketches are made on it, postal pouches are made out of it, and it is used for making bags, lids for jars and stoppers for bottles ...’ You did me a grave disservice when you made me take to using parchment instead of paper, and were the cause of my misfortune when you made me exchange light writing-books [79] for volumes too heavy to hold, that crush people’s chests, bow their backs and make them blind. The author here alludes to his wish to have a son, and this leads him to make some observations on heirs; then he reminds his correspondent of some remarks the latter made to him, and accuses him of having hatched a monstrous plot against him and inflicted on him

^5- A refined form of punishment C81J Y • If before enga§ing in such a plot against me you had first ended our friendship, then refused to have me at your table and then cut off your kindnesses to me—so that I could no longer come to see you except with the crowd, was deprived of all special favour and had your door shut in my face—if you had severed every link between us and shown me a calculated hostility, and then after all that had committed such an outrage, I would have grieved in silence but could still have lived a peaceful life, content to breathe a little longer and lull myself with false hopes. But such shocks coming without warning, such trials coming out of the blue, would be un¬ bearable even to someone of the hardness of stone and as immovable as a mountain. You punish me without respite in all kinds of ways

TRADITIONAL AD AB

213

and with maximum severity, and leave no stone unturned to break my spirit. Now I am dead, whom will you live with? Or rather: now yoi^have killed me, whom will you have to keep you company?1 [83] . . . You would have shown yourself more just had you con¬ fined yourself to one form of punishment, to the exclusion of all others; and you would have acted more correctly had you pardoned altogether. He who sets out to chasten leniently is driven on to punish severely, and he who starts out on the road of punishment runs the risk of persevering. Moreover punishment is always inflicted under the stress of anger; and the fiercer the anger and the more it gets the better of one’s earlier resolution, the more powerful it be¬ comes and the greater the mental turmoil it produces. A man in a fury gives the impression of a drunkard: possessed by his rage, seeth¬ ing, in the grip of frantic agitation, his body trembling, his humours dispersed and without the least control over himself. The only thoughts that come into his mind are those that aggravate his state, and all he hears of other people’s words are those that nourish [84] his fury. He may even be so absorbed that he hears nothing at all, and so seething that he understands nothing whatever. Were it not that Satan can never be idle, and must keep up his reputation for mischief, he would need to offer no suggestion, encouragement, temp¬ tation or inspiration to a man in a rage; for rage itself is amply sufficient to achieve his ends for him. When anger is in full spate it demolishes everything that stands in its path; until it calms down and dies away it breaks down all obstacles. So it is wise to resort to stratagems to stop it breaking out, to be prepared in advance of its onset, and gradually but persistently to remove the reasons for it and dispose of its causes. But when once it has really taken hold and is breathing forth fire and flames, and especially when the person in its grip is influential and surrounded by myrmidons to do his every wish, then you might give him the Pentateuch to eat, the Gospel to swallow or the Psalms to suck, or even a thorough sprinkling with the Koran, or get Adam himself to come and soothe him: it would remain at its climax, seeking only to increase tenfold in violence. In an attempt to move Ibn al-Zayyât, Jàhiz remarks that no one is in¬ fallible, not even Adam—which leads him off into a digression on

6. Meaning and thing meant [85] . . . Adam himself stumbled and went astray, disobeyed his Lord and lost the way, was deceived by his enemy and outwitted by 1 There is an interpolation in the text here which is given below (XXXVIII).

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his adversary, and was blamed for his faltering resolution and his misplaced confidence. And yet God created him with His hand, lodged him in His abode of peace, made His angels to bow down before him, set him above all other creatures, and taught him all the names with their meanings. For it was impossible for God to have taught him a name without teaching him its meaning, or to have taught him a meaning without creating for him the thing meant by it. A name without its meaning is but air or an empty vessel. Names correspond to bodies and meanings to souls: thus a word is a body for the mean¬ ing, and a meaning constitutes a soul for the word. Had God given Adam the names without their meanings, He would have been giving him something inert and inanimate, insensate and useless. A word is only a name if it can bear a meaning, and if meanings can exist without names there are certainly no names without meanings. The word of God: ‘And He taught Adam all the names’2 indicates that He also taught him all the meanings. Reverting to his ironic vein, Jâhiz now compares Ibn al-Zayyât to Adam, and asks his forgiveness, quoting historical examples of sustained punish¬ ment. Then he analyses the causes of ill-feeling—which may arise in the first place from family relationship, from being neighbours, etc., and reminds Ibn al-Zayyât that they were once neighbours and are both Mu'tazilites. Then he draws a humorous comparison between them:

7. Jâhiz and Ibn al-Zayyât* [88] ... You are a poet and I but a râwï*; you are tall and I am short, you are bald on top and I at the temples; you ride on horseback and I ride donkeys ; you are phlegmatic and I quick-tempered; you manage your own affairs and at the same time provide for the needs of others, your actions affect every citizen of the empire and your organization makes itself felt to the furthest corner of the nation, whereas I am incapable even of looking after myself or of controlling my maidservant and my slave. You distribute largesse and I distribute gratitude; you are a prince and I a yokel; you make people beholden to you, but I am one of the beholden; you do things, I describe them; you are a leader, I a follower. When engaged in an argument with knowledgeable men, or disputing with your peers, you do not say at the end of the discussion: T ought to have said so-and-so’, or: T ought not to have said so-and-so , for you have the ability to put things in their proper places and give them their due, and so you are not forced to regret something you have said or not said. I, on the 2 Koran, II, 31.

TRADITIONAL ADAB

215

other hand, never express an opinion without regretting it [89]; in discussion I put forward heresies, and always see the truth too late . . . I know of no affinity that binds us together, except that we both prefer brown bread to white and stewed beans to halva, and that we both pride ourselves on our geometry. And now, for my crime of liking brown bread as much as you, preferring stewed beans, and being competent to draw plans of towns and canals-—for this crime I am to be banished from the earth and have a price put on my head. So I have sworn off bread and eat nothing but dates, and sleep in a tent instead of living in a house. After doing his best to win Ibn al-Zayyàt round, he gives him a descrip¬ tion of 8. The friend [92] . . . Everybody is agreed on this point: two relationships in which envy is ruled out and good behaviour taken for granted are those of a beneficiary to his benefactor and of a client to the master who emancipated him. And this is all the truer when the bene¬ ficiary is a friend, indeed a close friend, of the benefactor. For all their number, diversity and remoteness from one another, the parts of the soul and the organs of the body make up a single soul and a single body-—for the thoughts are synchronized, and the organs obey the will. True comrades, really like-minded friends, have the same tastes, share the same enthusiasms and the same desires, help one another like the parts of one body, and understand one another like the organs with which man is endowed by nature. If one friend goes away, it is as though the other has lost part of himself; if he is ill, it is half of himself that is ill. People bound together so closely as to form a single whole can even be likened to the senses of a word that fit together in a logical sequence: upset the unity, and the whole falls to the ground. My death is my friend’s death, just as my life is my friend’s life. So when your friend goes away, do not put away your love for him; for sometimes, when a friend is far distant, it is as though only the worst in him remains behind ; and this part, which is like a piece of oneself, can be more spiteful than an enemy [93], sharper than a sword and more dangerous than the bloodthirsty lion or poison that seeps into the veins. Jàhiz continues with his comments on friendship and on good (which is much rarer than evil), and tells Ibn al-Zayyàt that after the way he has treated him he will be unable to find himself a friend.

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÀHIZ

9. The price of friendship [94] ... I gave you all my youthful vigour, and the virtue of my untried passion; you enjoyed it, and reaped the fruits of my youthful strength, but I alone paid the price and suffered the loss of it. You had all the advantages of it, [95] and I all the disadvantages. When my physical strength declined, I gave you my mental powers; at a time when my learning had reached its zenith, I afforded you the benefit of my experience; but I alone suffered the infirmities and maladies of old age. The ideal partner is the one who gives you the pure and keeps the impure for himself; the best of your friends is the one who repays what you spend on him and is always ready to come to your aid, and who himself undertakes the labour that you alone may enjoy the fruits of his toil; and the noblest of your circle, the most appreciative of those who put their trust in you, is the one who does not suspect that you describe as ‘chores’ your great efforts on his behalf and the help you give him, or as ‘charity’ your neverfailing generosity towards him, but who counts gratitude as a greater blessing than giving and a devoted friend as more meritorious than a generous patron. Jâhiz reverts to the subject of his punishment, and just as animals cry out when ill-treated, cries out for forgiveness.

XXXV THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HOSTILITY AND ENVY The author claims to be the first to deal with this topic, just as he was the first to tackle the question of the ‘promise’ and rules of conduct for ministers. He adds a piece about

1. Jâhifs books [99] ... If these books are noble, beautiful and excellent, and sur¬ pass all others, it is because their contents are designed to meet the expectations of eminent men. They contain, first, elegant and un¬ usual anecdotes, subtle and beautiful sayings transmitted by the Companions of the Prophet, and hadiths* calculated to encourage the acquisition of praiseworthy qualities and the performance of noble deeds worthy to go down to posterity; but they also contain in¬ formation about the conduct of kings and caliphs and their ministers and courtiers, and the salient features [100] of their life-stories.

TRADITIONAL ADAB

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Since you do me the honour of troubling to peruse them, and in case you are unable because of your pressing commitments to delve deeply into them all, I beg you in the name of your dazzling nobility and your prodigious merit to content yourself with taking a general view of them, and simply to acquaint yourself with the gist of the subjects dealt with by leafing through the first few pages. For you have such a lively, keen, nimble mind and such a good memory that a fleeting glance will suffice you. The remainder of the text is concerned with books and scholars—true scholars, hated by the fraudulent usurpers who so often manage to gain the ear of the crowd.

2. Dangerous intermediaries [102] ... I cannot be certain that these books of mine, which I write at the cost of so much toil and rack my brains to compose, will not be presented to you by an impostor: someone who disguises him¬ self as the author of similar works, pretends to creative ability equal to mine and sufficient learning to turn out their cousins if not their brothers, and prides himself on a fertility which God has in fact denied him. It could happen that one of his colleagues or opponents, who laugh at him, gloat over his blunders, make fun of his naïveté and generally reckon him a buffoon not to be taken seriously, [it could happen, I say,] that one of them who envied me might let himself be taken in by the pretensions of this false scholar, con¬ vince others, and so encourage the charlatan to redouble his claims to a talent he does not possess, indeed lacks completely. A man of this sort, presenting my books to you, will give short weight as he reads them, skim over parts he should dwell on, fail to give the proper emphasis, and be far from convincing. Indeed, I fear he might go further and find fault with my books by word or gesture, insinuating that their content was feeble or their style faulty, yet never openly showing hostility to the books or envy of their author, and studiously avoiding attacking them in terms that would reveal his true intentions. Clever critic that he is, he will im¬ press himself on his hearers’ minds . . . without arousing the least objection or the slightest demur, and then be emboldened by the lack of opposition. Jàhiz tells an anecdote to illustrate this procedure; then he expounds his views on beauty—which excites envy. He says that beauty is everywhere, whereas hostility is less ubiquitous and less serious. Envy is sister to falsehood; it is a fire that never goes out. He quotes a remark by

218

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

Yahyâ b. Khâlid about the envious people who envy his work but imi¬ tate it; and then he expounds his views on 3. Envy and the literary critic [108] ... I can confirm Yahyâ b. Khâlid’s* complaint from my own experience. I once wrote a complete, well-constructed book on religion,/zg/z*, the missions of the Messengers, the biography of the Prophet, speeches, the land tax, theological nomenclature and all branches of learning, and signed it with my name. A group of scholars at once got together to disparage it, impelled by their devouring envy, even though they knew the book was first-rate and represented ex¬ ceptional value. They do this especially when a book is dedicated to a prince with power to promote or downgrade, to humble or exalt, to inspire ambition or fear: then they really let themselves go, like camels in rut. If they think they know a way to discredit the book in the eyes of the person for whom it was written, then they deliberately go and see him. But if he is a man of real erudition and experience, able, discerning, shrewd and astute, so that their intrigues are doomed to failure, then they steal the ideas in the book, together with its content and ornament, and from them produce another book— which they then proceed to dedicate [109] to another prince whose favour they aspire to. Yet this is the book that they castigated and denigrated when it bore my signature and mark. Then again I wrote a book that was poor both in style and content, and signed it with a name other than my own, attributing it to a writer of a past generation, as it might be Ibn al-Muqaffa'*, alKhalil*, Salm*, director of the House of Wisdom, Yahyâ b. Khâlid, al-'Attâbï* or suchlike. Lo and behold, the same persons who had torn to shreds the previous book (which was much better construc¬ ted) come running to me to make copies of it and read it under my direction; they write it out in their own hands, take it as a model, study it in detail, draw personal parables from it, use its phrases and ideas in their own books and speeches, and transmit it on my authority to other students in the same field. Thus they become the acknowledged leaders, and thanks to it are widely emulated—simply because it does not bear my name and is not attributed to my pen. Sometimes, again, the finished work left my hands like an in¬ scription on polished granite, with its subtle, sensible ideas and noble purity of style. Consequently, while I feared it would be the object of envious assaults if I acknowledged authorship, yet at the same time —so outstanding was its composition and so splendid its style—I would have been jealous of any other author whose name I gave it.

TRADITIONAL ADAB

219

So I presented it to the public as a vague, anonymous work, taken at random from textbooks by unknown authors. At once the en¬ thusiasts rushed down on it like an avalanche of sand, vying with one another to be the first to read it, like horses in a race straining for the winning-post. The envy of the ignorant is kindlier and less painful than that of a wise and discerning man; for your envious ignoramus starts finding fault with a book from the first moment it is read to him, without even waiting for the end of the first page. Moreover he is not content to criticize it gently or with restraint, but needs must [110] treat it with maximum harshness and brutality before he has even grasped the main theme, let alone the details. He does not find fault with it in an explicit or itemized fashion, but denigrates it en bloc, saying: ‘This book is nothing but error from beginning to end, empty air from foreword to conclusion.’ He imagines that exaggerating and over-emphasizing his criticisms and prolonging his assault on the book will gain him a better hearing. But he does not know that any¬ one seeing him behave thus will despise him, be shocked at his ig¬ norance, and realize that the opinions he has expressed are biased and hasty; he will be discredited and worthless in their eyes. An envious man who is a scholar, prudent, circumspect and lacking neither in taste nor ability, aims to damn a book with finesse: he will leaf through it, take note of the contents and style, examine it repeatedly, ponder the ideas expressed, and altogether display in the eyes of his hearer and friends such meticulous care and balanced judgment that he spreads a net to ensnare their hearts, casts a rope to bind their minds, sets up a ladder to get what he wants from them and lays a carpet to conceal the deadly pits he has dug for them. In this way he makes them believe that his aim is the truth and only the truth. By means of these traps and pitfalls he often manages to out¬ wit the wisest of lords. One of the worst disasters, one of the greatest calamities, that lie in wait for writers is to have their books presented to a great man who is a good customer, and will, they hope, pay a high price, by someone of the sort I have just described: envious, skilful in his methods, and well versed in the various ways of tarnishing and ruin¬ ing the reputation of the one he envies and disparaging an author and his work—especially if he conceals his envy, is subtle and wily, and with all that shows himself an assiduous companion, a sedulous courtier and an ever-present storyteller, and is not inhibited by any fear of doing wrong or impelled by caution to consider the conse¬ quences of his actions. Added to this there is sometimes inattention on the great man’s part; for our friend will have reiterated his ideas over

220

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

and over again, [111] emphasizing, reinforcing, pressing and demon¬ strating his thesis until it is imprinted on the other’s mind and his judgment begins to reel. In such cases the only solution for a great man anxious to have things truthfully and accurately presented to him is to have done with envious men once and for all, ignoring them and shutting his door to them. Sometimes an envious man’s envy becomes so powerful, when his every whim is not observed and his treacherous arrows miss their mark, that he will admit he was wrong and confess that his criticisms of a given work were due to negligence or inadvertence: he did not, he says, read the book as attentively as he would have wished, his mind being preoccupied and his thoughts distracted, and now that he has been able to give it his full and proper attention he has revised the opinion that he hastily, inadvertently and mistakenly gave before. All this is designed to show his integrity and make people say: if he has revised his view and recognized his mistake, it can only be through intellectual honesty and religious scruple. In fact it is nothing but trickery on his part, a ruse designed to secure for him a substantial and lasting benefit: namely, for his judgment to be accepted in re¬ spect of all future books submitted to him, even if he is critical of certain passages in them. Having revised his opinion when previously he was convinced of the contrary, he seeks to make this precedent the soundest guarantee of his impartiality and the most reliable token of his fairmindedness . . . A highly effective method of making an adverse criticism is to give one’s view and then ask God’s pardon for it, and then to wait a little while before delivering an even severer and more damaging attack. This is intended to inspire confidence and make people say: if this criticism were inspired by envy, he would not have withdrawn the previous one. [113] ... If anyone out of envy disparages the work I am dedi¬ cating to you, so that you have doubts about its worth, let me know the point he is attacking and then throw my rejoinder back in his teeth; when his statement is confronted with mine in your presence, there will, I think, be little need to appeal to a judge, so clearly will truth rise above falsehood and crush it. Jàhiz quotes traditions and anecdotes about envious men, and opines that hostility is less reprehensible than envy; but opinions are divided, some recommending conciliation and others advocating firmness. Then he relates that at this point in the writing of the book ten official scribes came to see him, and at the same moment he received a note from certain envious men threatening him if he did not guarantee them a share in the expected profits. The ten visitors, having read the note, impart their

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thoughts in prose and verse. The remaining pages of the text contain traditions bearing on the subject of envy.

XXXVI

THE ENVIOUS AND THE ENVIED

Jâhiz replies to a correspondent who has evidently asked him for an analysis of envy. In his view it is the root of all evil, and he quotes verses from the Koran to this effect; he also attributes Iblls’s first lapse into sin to envy.

1. How envy shows itself [4] . . . It is in the nature of the envious man, if the man he envies is wealthy, to censure him for his wealth and allege that he acquired it by illicit means and is committing a sin in keeping it. He stirs up his most poverty-stricken relatives against him, arouses their hostility to him, and abets them in private; meanwhile he is openly urging the man he envies to break with them on the grounds that they are in¬ grates and criticize him in public, and that generosity to people of that thankless stamp is out of place. If he should come across an enemy of his, he covertly encourages him against him. If the envious man is a close acquaintance of the man he envies, he misleads him when he asks his advice, repays his kindnesses with ingratitude, lets him down when he seeks his help, criticizes him when he palpably deserves praise, speaks ill of him behind his back, keeps silent [5] when he has evidence in his favour, exaggerates his slightest mistake, and declares that he would gladly see him stricken with an incurable disease and nailed in his coffin. If the man he envies is a scholar, the envious man makes him out an innovator who follows his own opinions, a hack who burns the midnight oil, an adventurer out to make money, and an ignoramus who avoids any kind of work and uses cunning to ingratiate himself with high officials. He expostulates that people are stupid to have sympathy for him, and calls down the wrath of God on this pest of a scholar who has few pupils and an unsavoury way of earning his living. If the man he envies is a man of religion, the envious man makes him out a hypocrite who wages war in order to have orphans in his charge, goes on the pilgrimage in order to win praise, studies in the mosque in order to obtain his neighbour’s daughter in marriage, and attends funerals in order to become better known.

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The author establishes a link between hypocrisy and envy, and then proceeds to quote examples from the days of the Prophet and sayings by famous men.

2. Joseph and his brothers [8] . . . For myself, I truly think that if the punishment of the en¬ vious were in my hands I would exact no worse penalty than that which God has already inflicted on them, namely to be plagued by anxiety. May God make them more envious yet, and keep them in eternal envy! How can a man with brooding envy in his heart have the patience to await the fulfilment of his desires? Joseph’s brothers were wise forbearing men descended from the prophets, and were not unmindful of the envy flaring up in their hearts; and yet they pledged themselves to their father with their most binding pledges, their most solemn promises and their most sacred oaths to cherish Joseph, their own brother, part of themselves. But they betrayed their promi¬ ses, unjustly seized him and cast him down into the cistern, and then brought back his shirt stained with blood that was not his. In wrong¬ ing Joseph they were wronging their father, out of anxiety to keep his countenance and his love all to themselves [9]; they supposed that time would console him, and that his love for them alone would make him forget Joseph. They made his tears to flow, and seared his heart. Should not all who are envied be happy because of Joseph, to whom God gave the granaries of the earth as a reward for the patience he showed in suffering wrong at the hands of those who envied him, for the indulgence and forgiveness with which he re¬ quited them, and the sweetness and brotherly love he showed to¬ wards them, seeing that he had them at his mercy, when they came to buy food from him, and were afraid, having not recognized him? He helped them most handsomely and treated them generously; and when they recognized him, they made submission, and threw them¬ selves down at his feet to ask his forgiveness. The author gives some advice on how to behave towards envious people, and concludes with the view that envy is the product of hatred.

XXXVII

THE ART OF KEEPING SECRETS AND HOLDING ONE’S TONGUE

The author sings the praises of his correspondent—not identified for certain—and then goes on to say that he has noted two failings in him,

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1. Garrulity and indiscretion [38] . . . The two things I have against you are talking idly and giving away secrets. The qualities I think desirable and strive to inculcate in you are not easy to acquire or simple to practice; how could it be otherwise, seeing that nowadays I do not know a single one of our many contemporaries, those who belong to the aristocracy, are reckoned among the élite, aspire to power and authority, pride themselves on their learning, and make a great point of their digni¬ fied, staid, judicial, solemn demeanour—I do not know a single one of them who is able to control his tongue to my satisfaction or can keep secrets properly? Nothing is harder than the battle of wits with one’s own instincts and the struggle to subdue one’s own emotions. Throughout one’s life judgment is subordinated to emotion, and it is the latter that makes people betray secrets and let their tongues run away with them. If reason has been called 'aql (shackle) and hijr (prohibition) ... it is because it ties down, bridles, shackles and restrains the tongue and binds and shackles unnecessary words to keep them [39] from becoming senselessly, wrongfully or harmfully excessive, as a camel is hobbled or an orphan put under restraint. The tongue is an interpreter for the heart, and the heart a casket wherein thoughts and secrets are carefully stored away, as well as everything else, good or bad, that is entrusted to it by the senses, engendered by the desires and emotions, or begotten by wisdom and learning. The human breast is not constructed as a receptacle for tangible matter, but is destined by providence to be a vessel for material unknown to man; and hence it becomes so oppressed by what it contains, and finds its load so heavy, that it seeks relief by unburdening itself and takes pleasure in unloading itself on to the tongue. But it is no help to a man to speak of his secret to himself in private: contrariwise, he needs to share it with someone else who is incapable of keeping it safe. The outcome of it all is that emotion takes over control of the tongue, and an excess of thought leads to an excess of words. The tongue is made for proclaiming the glory of God, but is often used for speaking evil. It is, however, merely an organ, and deserves neither praise nor blame.

2. Self-control (hilm*) [40] ... It is self-control that deserves praise, and the lack of it that deserves blame. The word hilm is a noun that encompasses all the

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qualities: it means the power of reason to restrain emotion. To re¬ strain one’s wrath, suppress evil impulses and clip the wings of hotheadedness—all this merits the name of hilm, and comes close to the essence of it; no less, to repress exuberant satisfaction, control one’s desires and refrain from malicious glee, insolent merriment, inappropriate grief or excessive anxiety, over-hasty compliments or reproaches, evil propensities and base covetousness, unwholesome greed for a bargain, excess of covetousness for one’s objective, whin¬ ing and snivelling, being full of complaints and repining, shifting too suddenly from anger to pleasure or pleasure to anger, and from making either body or tongue perform meaningless, useless, pointless evolutions. It is easier to be silent than to say something of value, but man enjoys imparting and acquiring information. Indeed, the transmission of tra¬ ditions is due to this instinctive human tendency.

3. It is hard to keep a secret [41] . . . Man finds it difficult to keep secrets because of the strength of this urge and his proneness to yield to this instinct. It would be easier for him to move well-established mountains than to fight against his own instincts. When he has a secret to keep, he falls into the grip of melancholy, grows ill and haggard, and feels deep down inside himself a sort of tingling or mangy itching, or as though he were being stung by a swarm of hornets, or prodded with gimlets; but these feelings vary in intensity according to the amount of selfcontrol a man exercises and his natural levelheadedness or emotivity. When a man divulges his secret, he feels as though a yoke has been lifted off his shoulders. The author then gives examples to illustrate the difficulty of keeping secrets, notably the case of al-A'mash, who was so anxious to keep to himself the traditions of the Prophet he had collected that he recited them to a sheep. Then he goes on to

4. The dissemination of secrets [43] . . . When a secret emerges from its holder’s breast, escapes from his tongue and reaches a single ear, it is thenceforth no longer a secret but a piece of news destined to spread, opening the door to evil and scandal. For all it needs to speed it on its way headlong is to reach a second ear; and seeing how few people there are that can be trusted, and the discomfort that discretion entails, this is

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likely to happen in the twinkling of an eye. The owner of the second ear finds it even harder to keep: he is more readily disposed to divulge it, more willing to be lavish with it, and finds it more excusable to speak of it and easier to refute the accusation he risks incurring. The same is true of the third by comparison with the second, of the fourth by comparison with the third, and so on. This happens even when the confidant has been sworn to secrecy and is an intelligent, level¬ headed, sensible and kindly person. It is all the worse if silence is not enjoined on him and he is a man given to peddling slanders and broadcasting other people’s blemishes, always on the look-out for a piece of swindling or double-dealing, or in a position to use the betrayal of the secret for his own profit or the avoidance of loss. In this case it is the first holder of the secret who is to blame rather than his confidant; for it was his secret, and by removing its shackles, unfastening the bolt and opening the door for it he has allowed it to escape from custody. In this way he has made himself the slave of his confidant, and has put his neck beneath the latter’s yoke. It is open to the confidant to be a good owner and look after the secret, at the same time keeping the imprudent one at his mercy as a hostage against the day when he himself is blamed. But good owners who control themselves and do not abuse their freedom are rare; and in any case they may divulge their secret simply out of stupidity or weakness, without meaning to betray it. Bad owners, on the other hand, break their pledge and disclose the secret, confiding it to people who will be even less disposed to keep it—thus giving rise to bloodshed, calamity, [44] scandal and strife. But the most blame¬ worthy is still the man who failed to keep the secret in the first place . . . Indeed, who could be more degraded, more ill-starred or more of a weakling than the man who, being free and his own master, voluntarily makes himself another man’s slave, choosing servitude without having been captured or coerced? For slaves only tolerate their yoke because they have been weakened by being captured and reduced to slavery. This man, who has the secret safe in his heart but lets it go the moment he is asked about it, puts himself in the position of needing to go cap in hand to beg a favour from someone who has no duty to him, no thought of sparing him unpleasant con¬ sequences, and no incentive to help him out of trouble. The more widely he disseminates his secrets, the more masters he makes for himself and the more trouble he will have in serving them. Once the secret is known to many, or even to only a few, how hard it becomes to conceal! But the blame should not be laid at the door of the man who passes it on, for he did not start the dissemination of the secret, and it is not thanks to him that it has become known.

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But even the most circumspect of men, who guards his tongue, fences in his secret and weighs his words, cannot—at any rate without a tremendous effort and constant vigilance—control his expression or the muscles of his face, or stop himself blushing or turning pale, or smiling or frowning, when the secret is alluded to in his presence or happens to cross his mind; nor can he prevent the play of his features betraying him when the subject of the secret, or some¬ thing akin to it, is casually mentioned in conversation, or even when someone concerned in it enters the room. Since the secret can be deduced from these signs or others like them, guessed by shrewd people seeking to interpret words and gestures, or found out by scrutiny of the indirect causes of behaviour and actions—since it can spread in these ways [45] better than on the tongues of chatter¬ boxes, it is bound to be even worse when the tongue is completely at liberty to do as it wills with it and the mind is accustomed to spread it (for training is known to be reinforced by habit). Some¬ times a secret may be penetrated by intuition or discovered by guess¬ work; in that case the mention of a part of it to the holder, giving him the impression that it is noised abroad and widely known, will be enough to hoodwink him and get him to confirm and corroborate the hypothesis, explain in detail what was previously only known in outline, and ruin and condemn himself out of his own mouth. The author refers to people who customarily give away secrets, and con¬ cludes that it is best to trust no one: for the conditions needed for perfect discretion are but rarely met with, and the qualities needed for it seldom found in one person.

5. The appeal of forbidden fruit [47] . . . These virtues exist in words but not in deeds. Only a fool would be taken in by a promise in this field without testing it against the known facts. We have found by experience that the majority of confidants disseminate and broadcast secrets entrusted to them more efficiently than a messenger charged to learn by heart a message he is to carry, and rewarded with thanks and a tip for so doing. So much so that the best way to disseminate a piece of news is often to entrust it to somebody well known for his fondness for slander, telling him to keep it secret; the news will at once stream from his mouth like a light in the darkness. That is how 'Umar b. al-Khattâb* went about it when he wanted his conversion to Islam known: he inquired for the worst mischief-maker in Mecca, went to see the person in question, told him he had been converted, and begged him to keep

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the news secret. By nightfall there was no one in Mecca who did not know that 'Umar had become a Muslim. Another very good way of disseminating a secret is to make your confidant promise to keep it, at the same time warning him of the consequences of divulging it. The prohibition stimulates envy, for it imposes a restriction, and restrictions are hard to bear: they are heavy, whereas the mind is light and volatile, loves to unbosom itself, and burns [48] with eagerness to confide in others. It is sufficient to say to someone: ‘Do not rub your hands against this wall’ for him to want to do so, though he never did it before. Conversely, if you pass a secret on to someone without telling him to keep it, it may not occur to him to divulge it; for a man naturally tends to covet that which is forbidden and to weary of that which he possesses. We should dearly like to know why it is that, for no apparent reason, he sets greater store by that which is forbidden, even if it is of no use to him, than by that which is permitted—unless it be that he grows weary of whatever he has in plenty and is attracted by whatever he lacks. We should also like to know why he pursues those that will have none of him and will have none of those that pursue him; why it is said: ‘The more pressing the request the firmer the refusal’; why a man hankers after something, mentions it in his prayers, and yearns for it with all his might, and then has no sooner obtained it than it loses its lustre for him and he abandons it; and why kings are in¬ different to their own wealth and covet other men’s possessions. In our view God gave every individual a certain capacity, such that he cannot exceed it or encompass anything beyond it. Within this limit he is aware of want and of danger, beyond it he experiences the power of wealth and the certainty that he is secure from destitution. It is because of this feeling, and of avarice and greed which are akin to it, that a person despises those who have need of him and esteems those who can do without him. God created the soul to be inflamed by desire, greedy for novelty, easily wearied, tugged in different direc¬ tions, volatile, constantly shattered and distressed but resilient and quickly comforted. Were the soul not made thus, there would be no more testing. It prizes whatever it lacks, either through necessity, as in the case of some foodstuff, or through perversity and capricious¬ ness, as in the case of some covetous whim. Covetousness is of many kinds, and each has its devotees, who engage in nothing else. The soul esteems the unusual and rare, and enjoys the strange [49] and fortuitous; but when the unusual is multiplied it becomes familiar, and when the coveted object becomes abundantly available, so as to exceed the soul’s capacity and needs and become otiose and superfluous, the soul no longer esteems it, and disdains the 16

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abundance of it. For it prizes most highly whatever it feels most need of, even if to do without it is not really harmful, and most despises whatever it can do without, even if it is something important. When a man obtains what he covets and slakes his thirst for it, he forsakes and rejects the object of his desire: his love for it changes to hate and his covetousness to weariness. The reason for all this is that the world is the abode of the ephemeral and of weariness: by its nature neither it nor anything in it can endure unchanged. Continuance and dura¬ bility belong only to the abode of stability. After some thoughts about the capacity of the senses and the mishaps caused by excesses, the author reverts to the disclosure of secrets, and then goes on to

6. Backbiting [52] . . . We have no reason to suppose that God allowed anyone to backbite Believers: on the contrary, He represented backbiting in the most hideous guise, such as to make death preferable to life, saying: ‘Do not spy, and do not backbite each other. Would one of you like to eat his dead brother’s flesh? You would abhor it!’1 Throughout mankind backbiting is an attitude that betrays deep-seated unfairness, inherent baseness, meanness and deliberate wickedness based on envy and jealousy; it has taken hold of the world, governed men’s instincts, and flourished on habitual misdeeds, the victory of evil over good, and the abounding seeds of discord, depravity and envy in men’s hearts. No one is free of it. One man looks around him in justice and fairness, then espies things that displease him and shows his disapproval in looks and words. Another, actuated by hatred and hostility, often finds faults in his enemy that help him to invent others: he expands and enlarges the existing ones, and if the reality seems insufficient turns to fabrication, making the good points out as bad ones and the merely bad ones as atrocious. Any conversation of any importance revolves entirely around the subject of other people, and is nothing but gossip, tittle-tattle, drivel, ravings, backbiting, calumny and defamation of character. [56] . . . ‘Do you know’, asked Mu'âwiya*, ‘who is the noble soul? He is the man you fear to his face and backbite behind his back.’ By my life, such is the fate great men suffer among the common people, kings from their subjects and masters from their slaves. Any advantage the backbiter may gain over his victim by maligning him i Koran, XLIX, 12.

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is always less than the reverential awe he shows to his face! If the backbiter only used backbiting in self-defence against those whose power he feared, it would be excusable; but his overweening baseness spurs him on to backbite not only his fellow-men and equals but his male or female slave. He will backbite So-and-so to his detested rival, making himself his accessory out of stupidity and his servant out of flabby weakness of character: yet he is under no compulsion to do this, and can expect neither reward nor thanks for his pains. Then he will go at once, the very same day, to the man he has just been maligning and tearing to shreds, and say similar or even worse things to him about the rival to whom he has maligned him—once again for no reason, and with no advantage or profit in view such as would easily outweigh the humiliation and degradation he feels in his heart of hearts. In the same way he gratuitously extols the rich, and despises the poor for no reason at all. When such a man is unmasked or accused, he suffers yet another humiliation as he chokes over lying excuses and is driven to take refuge in false oaths. Any¬ one who behaves in this way deserves to be unmasked, and then for people to accept no excuse from him and trust neither his word nor his oath; for he has taken vileness as his garment, and obsequious¬ ness covers him from head to foot. Some thoughts on the subject of excuses are followed by maxims about idle chatter, and then by a disquisition on

7. The harm done by words [59] . . . This is a subject that we would have dealt with fully, were it not for our reluctance to involve the reader in a subject extraneous to our main theme and purpose. It is a huge topic, and material for it abounds; but a single sentence will suffice, for the difference lies only in the words that clothe the ideas. Observe each of the ills of this world, and you will see that they stem from a word that gained ground, starting strife as endless as the feud of the Bakr* and the Taghlib* . . . Study the traditions about the ancients, and you will lose count of those that were killed by their tongues and died be¬ cause of a word they let fall. The surprising thing is not that we entrust our secrets to persons unworthy of them, picked out from old acquaintances above suspicion; the surprising, the really astonish¬ ing thing is for a man to entrust a secret to someone he barely knows, someone he has taken up with after one or two meetings without finding out who or what he is, where he comes from or who his family are, thus allowing himself to be duped from the outset and cheated

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intellectually before being cheated materially or spiritually; the result is disaster aggravated by lifelong remorse. The book ends with a postcript about its usefulness.

XXXVIII

SUPERIORITY OF SPEECH TO SILENCE

Jâhiz replies to someone who has written an essay on the virtues of silence; after recapitulating his opponent’s arguments, he proclaims The virtues of speech [149] . . . To my mind the virtues of speech are glaringly obvious and the merits of words apparent from countless familiar situations and circumstances. Only by means of speech can a man give thanks to God and show forth his gratitude; only by means of his tongue can he express his needs and desires, either in this world or the next; and I could add many other arguments that are easily found, if need be, through reasoning and experience, well known in real life, and relevant to normal behaviour. On the other hand no evidence for the superiority of silence [150] to speech is forthcoming on the principle of analogy; for silence is described in words, while the converse is impossible. If silence were preferable and dumbness better, human beings would not be acknowledged to be superior to dumb animals, and there would be no difference between them . . .; indeed, they would be no different from stone idols or carved statues. Everything standing or sitting, moving or stationary, movable or fixed, would obey the same laws, hold the same rank and have the same destiny; for in their silence all these objects and beings would be like a corpse, whereas speech differentiates them . . . Talking1 shows itself superior to silence. The latter is only of use to the man who keeps quiet, whereas the usefulness of talking extends to speaker and listener, absent and present, current and completed. Evidence of the superiority of speech to silence is to be found in the fact that speech makes it possible to expound the virtues of silence, whereas silence does not allow the exposition of the virtues of speech. Were silence superior, the Prophet’s mission would have been dumb and the non-existence of the Koran would have been better than its existence. Moreover God’s Messenger explicitly distinguished and sharply differentiated between them when he said: ‘May God have i Interpolation transferred from a previous text (XXXIV, 5, above).

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mercy on the man who spoke well and took a prize, or kept silent and was unharmed’; thus he limits silence’s share to being unharmed only, but includes in speech’s portion both prize and being un¬ harmed—for a man can be unharmed without bringing back a prize, but can only bring back a prize if he is unharmed.

XXXIX

TRUE AND ASSUMED NOBILITY; AN ATTACK ON PRIDE

Only an excerpt of this risâla has survived. Jâhiz tells his correspondent that he has already dealt with the main topic, and then tackles the subject of

1. Pride and nobility Pride is a character trait such that nothing short of hilm* is needed to tolerate it, and the patience of Job to endure the proud. To refrain from chastising them is a mark of meekness, and to be kindly to them true glory; generosity is needed to ignore them, and dumbness to refrain from blaming them. You say: ‘If these people were noble by comparison with others, or at least made a showing when the principle of analogy was applied to them, I would excuse them, defend them, cover up their vicious¬ ness and support them; but their position is manifest, and their behaviour well known.’ If so, if they are as you describe them, it is even more blameworthy and makes you all the more to be con¬ demned. But I will refrain from reproaches until I have done with them, and will give you grace until I have set the stamp of shame on them. If nobility consisted simply of making oneself out to be noble, and honour were earned by puffing oneself up, eschewing regrets and apologies and disdaining really worthy men, then all those who are still less retiring, more utterly immodest and more conceited, albeit with less reason, would have a greater claim to nobility, and [their conduct] would be more pardonable. What makes you a great man is not that you consider yourself one but that your neighbour thinks you one, even if in fact you are humble. If you belong among the nobility, a slight affectation of vulgarity will do you no harm; if not, it will do you no good to pretend to be noble. Nobility is not like luck: a man may quite well have the best of fortune though on his deserts he should have the worst, but a man fitted for

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insignificance will never be noble. As in everything in this world, both experts and laymen can make mistakes; and this is all the truer in the case of something that has dignity as an ingredient, loftiness of aim as one of its characteristics, outward splendour as one of its assets, a ready tongue as one of its branches, and distinguished gatherings as one of its methods. Remember that unless you plan with nobility as your aim, ham¬ mer out the tools for it, approach it from the right direction and do your duty by it, you will be hated despite your efforts and detested for your pains. A man who makes himself hated lays himself open to insults and meets blame half-way; and anyone who is indifferent to insults and does not mind being blamed is dead rather than alive, a dog rather than a human being. If as a man he is mindful [of things around him], and capable of feeling, worrying and suffering, then he loses his sleep and the friendship of his fellows, and gains nothing but weariness and reproaches. Moreover nobility loves those that turn aside from it, but hates those that go to meet it: clings to those that reject it, but shuns those that seek it. . . The author defines nobility in passing: it consists above all of ‘humbling oneself before one’s inferiors, behaving justly towards one’s equals, and asserting oneself with one’s superiors’. He quotes the example of alAhnaf b. Qais, and then goes on to

2. Divine pride Some opponent of ours may say: If mutakabbir (haughty) were an opprobrious epithet, and mutajabbir (proud) blameworthy, God would not have so described Himself, or have used these two adjec¬ tives in a favourable sense in the Revelation, when He said: ‘[He is] the Proud, the Haughty’ immediately before ‘His are the most beautiful names f Our answer to this is as follows: Man, who is created to be subject to the divine will, frail and downtrodden, could only be humble and may only be modest. How could pride be an attribute of a being who is capable of being defeated by hunger and shows himself unjust when sated? What possible connection is there between pride and the eating, drinking, urinating, defaecating human being? What right has a being whom weariness exhausts and rest refreshes to be proud or haughty? Pride belongs not to the creature but only to the Creator; and the only reason that God rebukes man for his pride is that he oversteps the mark, goes too far, and usurps 1 Koran, LIX, 23-4.

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his Lord’s prerogatives. The Prophet said: ‘Greatness is God s mantle, and he who contends with Him for it tears it to shreds.’

3. Pardonable pride

A man who is noble does not feign nobility, any more than an eloquent man affects eloquence; for he who is noble has sufficient nobility not to need to feign it, and he who is eloquent has enough eloquence to be able to manage without inventing it. People ex¬ aggerate their qualities only out of a feeling of inadequacy, and the bully only gives himself airs because he is conscious of his weakness. Pride is ugly in all men, and to be rebuked in all creatures. It is, however, commoner and less obnoxious in certain Bedouin chiefs: for they are uncouth and cut off from society, and seldom mix with moderate, discriminating, well-educated, unassuming people. In only three cases is pride pardonable and commendable in human beings. In an uncouth Bedouin, savage when thwarted and neither a town-dweller nor a peasant, pride is understandable; for it can be put down to uncouthness, the habits of the jahiliyya*, and natural Bedouin arrogance. Secondly, pride may be the outcome of venge¬ fulness, hostility, rivalry and hatred; and finally, if it is shown only towards rulers, tyrants, Pharaohs and consorts. The author points out that the person his correspondent refers to falls into none of these categories, for his behaviour is contrary to the definition of nobility given above. Absence of nobility leads to envy, falsehood, backbiting and impiousness. Next comes

4. Pride and snobbishness

Eyes have never seen, ears heard, or the mind conceived any de¬ liberate action by a reasonable man or decision freely taken by a scholar that has direr results, is more pernicious, more lasting in its effects, more damaging to spiritual life, more discreditable, more deserving of divine wrath, more calculated to earn contempt and banish happiness in the next world, more palpably inconsistent with repentance, more difficult to rectify in the moment of truth, more contrary to nature, less conducive to the acquisition of sound learn¬ ing or more incompatible with hilm* than misplaced pride and feigned nobility. For what are we to think of a character trait that is twin to vanity, friend to boastfulness, companion to snobbishness and ally to complacency? The boastful man exaggerates, the snob tells lies, the proud man is unjust and the conceited man small-minded.

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when all these traits are united and combined in a single breast, then ruin is nigh, and the door is closing. Jâhiz declares that the first misdeed committed in heaven or on earth was the sin of pride. 5. The pride of Iblls It was pride that prevented Iblis bowing down [before Adam], per¬ suaded him of the uselessness of friendship and the value of wrath, made disobedience pleasant and loneliness and isolation attractive to him, made the curse of the Lord seem light to him and eternal punishment bearable, promised him victory and gave him hope of salvation, put specious arguments into his mind and made lying words seem fair to him, led him to eschew the company of the angels, united in him all evil qualities and combined in him all the marks of wickedness, for he was jealous. Now jealousy is injustice and false¬ hood, falsehood is degradation and deceit, and deceit is baseness. Iblis swore a false oath, which is impiousness; accused God of error, which is foolishness; wrongly applied the principle of analogy, which is stupidity; was stubborn, and stubbornness is weak-minded¬ ness; separated pride from simplicity; dissociated himself from the actions of the angels and plunged into conduct worthy of the dregs of men; and sought to show that fire is better than earth— whereas in fact the world draws advantage from four elements, fire that is hot and dry, water that is cold and wet, earth that is cold and dry, and air that is hot and wet. Each of these elements, com¬ bined with its opposite, gives life and length of days. But of all these fire is punishment from God, for it is quicker to destroy . . . That is the fruit of pride, and the result of straying from the way. 6. Definition of pride Pride is worse than brutality, which is the worst of sins, and modesty is better than clemency, which is the best of good deeds. Pride is a defect in which all the elements of evil are put together, and modesty a quality in which all the elements of good are combined. Modesty comes after pride, as clemency comes after brutality ... If pride afflicted only noble, fine, generous, true, sincere men, it would be more tolerable and less ugly; still more if it only affected upright men, and led only virtuous men astray. But it is found among the common people just as much as among the aristocracy, in the ugly and wicked just as much as in the beautiful and good, in the vile "and base as in paragons of virtue, in cowards as in heroes, in liars as in honest men, in slaves as in free men, and in tributaries subjected to the poll-tax

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and to scorn and humiliation as in those whose task it is to collect the poll-tax and inflict the humiliation. Were pride a good thing, it would not be commoner during the jâhiliyya* than under Islam, more widespread among tent-dwellers than among settled folk, or more general in Sind than among the Byzantines and Persians. The conduct of the Sâsànians, of Anüshirwân* and all the descendants of Ardashîr Pâpagàn*, was not a matter of pride: it was merely a prudent attitude towards the common people, a means of enhancing authority, and a way of governing just¬ ly. Among the caliphs none was more conceited than al-Walid b. 'Abd al-Malik*, who was neither the handsomest nor the cleverest, and of the governors of Iraq none was prouder than Yüsuf b. 'Umar*, who was neither the bravest, the shrewdest, the handsomest nor the most eloquent. The only king who ever had pretensions to divinity was Pharaoh; yet he was not foremost either in the splendour of his retinue, his noble deeds, the distinction of his presence or his physical perfection, nor yet in the extent of his empire, the nobility of his subjects or his natural generosity. The author takes the opportunity in passing to praise the Banü Hàshim, who are not proud. Then he quotes Abü 'Amr b. al-'Alâ’, who omits pride from his list of the failings that disqualify from holding office: for it can be counterbalanced by hilrn. He refers in passing to military commanders who are averse to seeking advice, and then reverts to the subject of hilm. He points out that qualities that go unrecognized when a man is of lowly station are acknowledged or even exaggerated when he attains high office. Then he goes on to the qualities of leadership that make a man loved, and states that the Arabs needed tribal chiefs to defend them because they were too remote from the central authority.

XL STEWARDS, AND THOSE THAT APPOINTTHEM Written to someone whom Jâhiz had hitherto admired, but whose judgment and opinions are now beginning to show signs of super¬ ficiality. The author ascribes this person’s errors to narrow-mindedness, and describes broad-mindedness as the fountainhead of all good. Specific¬ ally, the person in question has called all stewards thieves and has attacked booksellers and satirized schoolmasters.

Narrow-mindedness [170] ... A simpleton is inevitably shallow and stupid. To him folly represents rectitude and exaggeration represents restraint. If having

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made a mistake you do not persevere in it, if having decided to adopt a view you do not perpetuate it by proclaiming it in your books, or even if having perpetuated it you are not smugly satisfied with it, then the treatment of your malady is simple and the sickness short¬ lived . . . For someone in your position and calling, it were best if your spitefulness and promptness to find fault were due to narrow-minded¬ ness. All good flows from broad-mindedness: it is well established that broad-mindedness is the root and the other elements of good merely its branches. I gather that you call all stewards thieves and scoundrels, are spiteful and unfair to all booksellers, and include all schoolmasters in your strictures, remembering only their faults, pretending to forget their virtues, and repeating only the more scurrilous references to the great and famous among them. Anyone listening to you, or reading your works, would take you for a man who rejects the truth out of ignorance or forsakes it out of stubborn¬ ness. Everyone knows, of course, that he who forsakes it out of ig¬ norance is less culpable than he who wilfully refuses to recognize it. . . Try to understand that if you delude yourself about your learning you will give way to self-deception, and if you trust your own ideas you will give your enemy a hold over you. Human nature is so de¬ signed and constructed, and habit is such, that one tends to be careless of oneself in public and private. So remember this habit, and be suspicious of yourself whenever you let yourself go boldly. What a miserable thing is vanity and unquestioning assurance! Try to understand that the state of affairs [172] you seem to enjoy is the answer to your enemy’s prayers and an advantage presented to your rival. Publish a book conceived on these lines and cast in this sort of mould, and your enemy will not need to cast about for lies or slander to use against you, for you will have surrendered your honour and your person into his hands.

XLI

MISERS

/. Preamble [2] . . . [In this book] I explain why misers describe avarice as ‘thrift’ and meanness as ‘frugality’; why they enjoy saying ‘no’, and make it out to be a sign of strength; why they are opposed to charity, which they equate with wastefulness; why they regard good works as

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extravagance and altruism as foolishness; why they have lost interest in praise, are little disturbed by criticism, despise those who enjoy being praised and like giving to others, and admire [eccentrics] who are concerned neither to win popularity nor to avoid blame; why they maintain that discomfort and hardship are preferable to comfort and ease; why in their own homes they quite unblushingly withhold any little luxuries, but enjoy them greedily in other people’s houses; why they are quick to embrace cupidity, and choose a course of conduct that earns them the epithet miserly, unwelcome though it is to them; why they are so keen to make money but avoid spending it; why, though wealthy, they behave as though they were afraid of losing their wealth and not as though they hoped it would last; and why they pile up so many anxieties for themselves and reduce their share of hopes, though enjoying lasting security and perfect health— for fit men are commoner than sick, [3] and pleasure no rarer than misery . . . Why, despite their righteous judgment, do they defend what all the world is united in condemning; and why, despite their wide learning, do they glory in a failing that is universally stigmatized? How can a miser be intelligent and at the same time argue in favour of avarice, or broad-minded and skilled in rhetoric and at the same time defend this vice—overlooking its palpable vileness, the ugliness of the very word miser, the shame attaching to this epithet, and the harm it does to those who earn it? How can a miser exist like this, enduring weariness, discomfort, sleeplessness and hard lying, and long absences from home [amass¬ ing riches] that he does not enjoy, when he knows that his heir is more hostile to him than his enemy, and that he himself has a better right to his own wealth than anyone else? Is it not the case that if he feigned himself foolish and ignorant, and made himself out senseless and stupid, and then defended avarice with pertinent arguments, elegant and beautifully concise phrases, words skilfully chosen to convey understanding, lucid expressions and appropriate wording, all his rhetoric would give the lie to his pretended ignorance and in¬ feriority? How does he manage to see something dim and far off and miss something plain and close at hand? You ask me to explain what it is that has clouded their minds, warped their understanding and made them [4] blind and unbalanced. [You beg me to tell you] why they resist the truth and deny the ob¬ vious, [to analyse] this incongruity of temperament, this contra¬ diction of character, in which crass foolishness rubs shoulders with surprising brilliance, [and to show you] why they grasp the details, which are obscure, while missing the whole, which is plain to see.

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‘To my mind’, you go on, ‘a man who gives his greed free rein, frankly lays himself open to censure, and only opens his mouth to make violent assaults on his opponent by means of arguments ex¬ clusively culled from books is less surprising, and a fool who cannot help showing his failing still less so, than a man who is aware of his own greed and excessive niggardliness and yet strives to overcome his own nature and suppress his own character [in order to appear generous]. No doubt in the belief that his vice is known and the position clear to all, he is at pains to patch over and gild that which no amount of gilt or patching can conceal.’ ‘If, just as he is aware of his failing and sees that his neighbour has noticed it also, he similarly realized that he is powerless to cure him¬ self, improve his character, return to the [good] habits he has lost or correct the traits he has acquired, he would stop affecting [a gen¬ erosity] he is incapable of, and give up spending money to [win the goodwill of] his detractors, and that would be all to the good. He would have none to blame him, need no more invite poets to dine with him, and could give up the company of newsmongers charged to spread his good repute to the four corners of the earth; he would be freed from the burden of his imposture and be content to live like an ordinary mortal.’ The author continues in the same vein, pointing out that his book may perhaps serve a useful purpose in exposing misers and leading them to mend their ways. After some paradoxes concerning jealousy, falsehood and forgetfulness, he comes to a topic frequently dealt with in his books:

2. Laughter [9] . . . If laughter were repulsive to the person who indulges in it or to the person who causes it, we would not say of a flower, a striped robe, a jewel or a fine building that it is as though they were laughing. God said: ‘That it is He who makes men laugh and weep; that it is He who makes men live and die’1, thus likening laughter to life and weeping to death. God does not associate repulsiveness with Himself, any more than He gives His creatures a defect in the guise of a boon. Since laughter lies at the root of human nature, must it not have a considerable bearing on spiritual well-being and bodily health? Laughter is actually the first sweet sign [of life] in a baby. Thanks to it he blossoms out and puts on flesh, and his blood is enriched— the blood that is his strength and joy. It is because of the wondrous 1 Koran, LIII, 44-5.

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blessings of laughter that Arab children are given names such as ‘Merry’, ‘Smiling one’, ‘Cheerful’ and ‘Beaming one’. The Prophet himself laughed and jested, and so did the saints. There is a time and a place for laughter and jesting, and a limit; beyond the limit lies frivolousness, but not to reach it is a sign of lack of balance. Laughter and jest are only wrong to the extent [that they are excessive], but if the aim of jesting is merely wholesome pleasure, and of laughter merely [the merriment] for which it was created, they become weighty and important. After this introduction, the author quotes a letter written by Sahl b. Hârün in praise of avarice; then he tells anecdotes featuring Khura¬ sanians renowned for their thriftiness. Here is an example: 3. The glass lamp [29] . . . One day Abü 'Abd Allah al-Marwaz! paid a visit to a shaikh* from Khurasan, and the latter had just lit one of those green pottery lamps. ‘Upon my soul’, exclaimed Abü 'Abd Allah, ‘you do nothing right. I grumbled at you for using stone lamps, and you think to please me [by replacing them] with pottery. Do you not know that stone and earthenware literally drink oil?’ ‘Excuse me,’ replied the shaikh, T gave this lamp to a friend of mine who is an oil merchant, and he put it in his filter for a month, so that it is super¬ saturated and will never absorb any more.’ ‘That is not my point. That may be a [30] good way you have discovered of dealing with that problem. But do you not know that the flame continually burning at the end of the wick dries out the part of the lamp it is in contact with? When this place is saturated the flame soaks up the oil from it and burns it. If you were to compare the amount of oil absorbed from this place with the amount drawn up into the wick, you would find that the former is greater.’ ‘Moreover the part of the lamp that is in contact with the wick is always running with oil. I am told that if a lighted lamp is placed inside an empty one, after one night or two at the outside the under¬ neath one is full of oil. You can observe it also if you look at the salt and bran placed underneath a lamp to level it: they are absolutely soaked in oil. All this represents loss and waste such as can be condoned only by spendthrifts. Such people are continually providing others with food and drink, but at least they occasionally reap some benefit from it, trifling though it may be; whereas all you are doing is giving food and drink to the flame. And on the Day of Resurrection God will feed the flames with those that have fed them during their lifetime!’

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‘Then what should one do, pray?’ asked the shaikh. ‘Get a glass lamp. Glass is better than any other material: it is non-porous and non-absorbent, and does not collect dust. As a rule the only way to remove dust is either to rub the lamp hard or else to set light to it, and either way the effect is to dry the lamp out still further. Glass, on the other hand, withstands water and wine better than pure gold; and moreover it is manufactured, whereas gold is in its natural state. If gold is to be preferred for [31] its hardness, glass is superior by virtue of its cleanness. Finally, glass is transparent, while gold is opaque. Furthermore, since the wick in a glass lamp is situated at the centre, the edges do not get heated by the flame as they do in an ordinary lamp. When a ray of light strikes the glass, the flame and the lamp together become a single source of light, reflect¬ ing each other’s rays. This effect can be observed when a ray of light strikes a mirror, the surface of water or a piece of glass: its brightness is doubled, and if it shines in someone’s eye it dazzles and may even blind him. It is said in the Koran: “God is the light of the heavens and of the earth. This light is like a niche in which is a torch set in a glass like a glittering star; the torch is lit with oil from a sacred tree, an olive neither of the East nor of the West, whose oil glows even when no fire touches it. It is light upon light. God guides to His light whom He pleases”2. Oil in a glass lamp is “light upon light”, brightness upon twofold brightness. In addition to this advantage there is the point that a glass lamp is handsomer than a stone or pottery one.’ Anecdotes about the meanness of Khurasanians, and especially the people of Merv, are followed by stories about the masjidiyyün, those men of Basra who congregate in the great mosque to discuss a variety of topics—and also, apparently, to exchange recipes for thrift:

4. Bran water [44] . . . T was troubled for some time [, one of them related,] with a cold that would not go away. Some people prescribed me a syrup, others recommended soup made with starch, sugar, almond oil and other ingredients. Being unwilling to incur such expense, I contented myself with hoping for recovery. The days went by. One day some¬ one inspired from above advised me to take hot bran water. I tried this remedy, and found the taste very pleasant; and since it was nourishing, I was less hungry, and felt no desire to eat before the noon prayer that day. No sooner had I lunched and washed my hands than it was time for the afternoon prayer. Dinner being thus 2 Koran, XXIV, 35.

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brought close to lunch, I went without dinner; and then I realized what I needed to do. [45] I said to the old woman3: “Why do you not make bran for us all every morning? Its water is excellent for the chest, and very nourishing into the bargain. Then let the bran dry and return to its normal state, and you will be able to collect it up and sell it for the same price as you paid for it. We shall be the richer for what we have taken out of the bran.” “Methinks God sent you many blessings with that cough of yours”, she replied, “in introducing you to bran, which is good both for your health and your purse!” ’ T have no doubt’, he added, ‘that that piece of advice was a genuine revelation.’ ‘You are right’, said his hearers, ‘such benefits are not obtained by taking thought; it can only have been divine inspiration!’ There follow anecdotes featuring moneychangers, vagrants and various other characters, all worth translating. But pride of place must be given to a letter which we may suspect Jâhiz wrote himself:

5. Landlords and tenants [116] . . . Here is a story that was told me by Ma'bad*: While I was living in al-Kindi’s* house, I had a cousin of mine and his son to stay. Al-Kindi at once sent me a note as follows: ‘If these two per¬ sons stay a day or two, I will say nothing; nevertheless, if tenants [117] are going to take the liberty of inviting guests to stay overnight, it will not be long before they inflict them on us for long periods.’ ‘They are only staying about a month’, I hastened to reply. He wrote back: ‘The rent of your house is thirty dirhams*; and since there are six of you, that comes to five dirhams a head. Now that there are two more of you, that will be another twice five dirhams', so from today your rent will be forty dirhams.’’ ‘What harm does their being here do you?’ I asked; ‘Their weight presses only on the earth, which supports mountains, and their board is entirely my responsibility. Write and let me know your reasons.’ Little did I know the question I was raising or the road I was setting out on! He sent me a letter as follows: There are several reasons that prompt me to adopt this attitude; they are well known, and do not alter. The first is that the cesspit fills up more quickly, and it costs a lot to have it emptied. Then, as the number of feet increases, there is more treading on the clay¬ surfaced flat roofs and the plastered floors of the bedrooms, and 3 i.e. his wife.

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

more wear and tear on the staircase: the clay flakes off, the plaster crumbles, and the steps get worn down—to say nothing of the fact that the ceiling joists bend and break under all the trampling about and extra weight they have to bear. When people are continually going in and out, opening and closing doors and drawing and shoot¬ ing the bolt, the doors split and their fastenings get broken off. When there are more children, and twice as big a swarm of brats, the nails and hinges of the doors get tom off, and all the courtyards suffer: the children dig holes in them for their nutshell games, and crack the flagstones with their [118] go-carts. Moreover the walls get ruined through people hammering in pegs and shelf-brackets. When the number of members of the family, visitors, lodgers and guests goes up, there is ten times as much pouring of water and seepage from pitchers and jars as usual. Many a wall has been under¬ mined, had its upper courses crumble and its foundations give way and threatened to collapse altogether, as the result of seepage from a pitcher or a jar, or because too much water was drawn from the well and the whole thing mishandled. The requirements of bread, food, fuel and heating increase with the number of heads. Now fire is ‘no respecter of persons’, and houses and their contents make ideal fuel for it. How many tenement blocks have been burnt down, resulting in ruinous expense for their owners! A disaster of this sort may coincide with a lean period and a time of financial stringency; sometimes also—and this is really criminal—the fire may spread to the neighbouring buildings, causing injury to persons and damage to property there as well. If the property owner had only these trials and tribulations to put up with, it would perhaps be bearable; but he is regarded as a bird of ill omen, and heaped with reproaches and insults. [To come back to tenants,] they choose to use the high rooms built on the fiat roof as kitchens, even though there is ample space on the ground floor or in the courtyard—and this despite the danger to life and property that it causes. There is the further risk that in the event of fire the undamaged portions of the house are [119] liable to be broken into by hooligans, who might unearth closely guarded secrets and hidden things: a stranger in hiding, an absconding land¬ lord, forbidden liquor, a compromising book, treasure that there was no time to bury before the disaster—in short, all manner of situations and things that people like to keep secret. Next, they always build their ovens and fireplaces for cookingpots on the flat roof, where there is only a thin layer of clay—quite an inadequate protection—between them and the reeds and boards that make up the ceiling. Moreover they take very little trouble to

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build them properly, and do not spare a thought for the damage these ovens and fireplaces cause. It is odd that you [tenants] should deliberately set out on an under¬ taking that may well be to the detriment of all of us; and it is even odder that you should neglect, indeed be quite oblivious of, your duty to our property and your own! There are many of you that have to be begged for your rent, and procrastinate endlessly about paying. When they are several months in arrears they abscond, leaving their landlords to go hungry and rue the kindness and forbearance they lavished on them. All the thanks and reward they get is to be done an injury and made to suffer a loss. When a tenant moves in, we will have swept and cleaned the house to make it look nice and attract custom; when he moves out, he leaves filth and dilapidations that call for heavy expenditure. More¬ over he never fails to take with him the beam used for wedging the door, the ladder, sundry building materials and the water-cooler. Instead of doing his laundry on the ground floor, with the help of the copper and the [120] paddle, he carries out this operation [upstairs,] on the beams, the joists and the balconies. If the floor of the house is plastered or paved with bricks, and the landlord, thinking to save the floor, has put a stone in one corner for crushing and pounding on, the tenants, out of thoughtlessness, spite, deceitfulness or baseness, do their crushing and pounding wherever they may happen to be, without a thought for the damage they are causing. They pay no compensation, and neither apologize to the landlord nor privily ask God’s forgiveness. The tenant thinks his ten dirhams a year [for repairs] excessive, but considers it reasonable enough that the land¬ lord should have spent a thousand dinars* on the purchase of the house. He keeps account of the little he gives us, but says not a word about all that we give him. And then again the passage of time will destroy anything, however well built, and will wear out new things and break down the stoutest joints. It wears away buildings as it does rocks, and attacks masonry as it does everything else, first parching and withering and then destroying. It does not take long for houses to be in ruins. The tenants who live in them have the pleasure and benefit of them: it is they who wear them out and rob them of their freshness, and their ill-treatment that ages them and brings their end nigh. If when a house is destroyed we reckon up the cost of rebuilding it, plus past outgoings on repairs and restoration, and compare this figure with the total income it has brought in as rent, we see that the landlord has lost and the tenant gained. Moreover our money went 17

244

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

out in one lump, [121] whereas the rent we collect only comes back to us in small amounts. And here I am leaving out of account the bad payers, who have to be asked time and time again for their rent. Add to this the tenant’s hatred for the landlord and the latter’s kindly feelings towards the former: for he wishes him good health, prosperity if he is in business and flourishing trade if he is a crafts¬ man, whereas the tenant’s only wish is for God somehow or other, through absence, chronic illness, imprisonment or death, to keep his landlord away from him! He is also anxious above everything else for the landlord to take no interest in him, and does not mind how this result is achieved. But it is noteworthy that the less interest the landlord takes the better the tenant likes him, the more secure he feels, and the more he values his chances of keeping the accommo¬ dation. If the [tenant’s] business is in a bad way or his trade in the doldrums he insists that his rent must be reduced and the arrears remitted. But if God prospers his business and makes his trade thrive, he will not have so much as a qïrât* added to his rent or pay so much as a fils* in advance. [122] . . . Sometimes the tenant will obtain a hold over the land¬ lord and set out to ruin and cheat him. He lends him money, spurs on his covetous desires and leads him to spend more and more, aim¬ ing to fleece him and enrich himself at his expense. When he is con¬ fident of his hold over him, he begins to harry and harass him, until the landlord, in order to escape from him, is compelled to sell him part of the house or give him a mortgage on the whole of it. This allows the tenant both to acquire the property and also to avoid paying his arrears of rent . . . Sometimes the tenant will rent an apartment in need of repair, buy part of the materials required, and carefully engage a workman of good appearance—having first made sure that the neighbouring [123] houses are lavishly appointed. Then when the workman is busy and not looking, he collects up as much of his neighbours’ things as he can, leaving them high and dry. Or else he finds lodgings backing on to a prison, so that the prisoners can make a hole in the wall and get into his house; or next door to a banker, so that in his own good time and in perfect peace and security he can make a hole in the dividing wall and rob him . . . One must remember also that houses are exposed to great risks. So indeed are their owners, but they are such unsuspicious, trusting men! A man who hands over his house lock, stock and barrel, with its teak wainscoting, its doors and their fastenings, and its gilt ceil¬ ings, to someone he does not know is laying it open to the gravest hazards. He is in the position of a man handing over a warehouse,

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and the tenant in that of a man taking it over; and no warehouse is more at the mercy of robbery and bad management than houses are. By the same token the good lodger is the one who, finding that some work needs doing to his house, obtains authority to incur expenditure on it (on the understanding that it will be deducted from his rent at the end of each quarter), and then has the minimum done and submits an itemized account. It is a strange world if only the best of tenants are like this . . . [124] Or perhaps you may do some building on the estate. Since the building becomes your property, even though the land does not belong to you, you claim joint ownership of the site. You argue that the building takes the place of rent, and even try to represent your share as an heirloom or a piece of family property. Yet another crime of yours is that you depreciate our capital assets, destroy our sources of income, and by your bad behaviour lower the value of our houses and property. So much so that neither rich men nor ordinary folk have any interest any more in real estate as a source of income; property-owners are driven to all manner of expedients in order to support you, and have to spend their money to attract tenants. A saying of 'Ubaid Allah b. al-Hasan has become proverbial: ‘A house will keep the wolf from the door, and palmtrees bring in a pittance, but the real way to make money is agri¬ culture and stockbreeding.’ All these trials are brought upon us by our gentleness in claiming our due and our patience in tolerating your bad paying habits. You pay in small instalments though you ought to settle outright, and are behind with your rent payments though they are an obligation on you. It is for all these reasons that house property, though in¬ trinsically worth more, brings in less than other sources of income . . . [125] That is the sort of people you are and the way you behave in the matter of housing, which is essential to you. I should be curious to see how you behave in some other field in which you had complete freedom of action, were in a position to accept or re¬ fuse, and could choose without the constraint of any imperious necessity! You say that it is more sensible to rent a house to live in than to buy one, adding: For the buyer immobilizes his capital, subjects himself to all sort of restraints, and lays himself open to continual difficulties, thus becoming the prisoner of the money he has laid out. The guarantor he chooses may break his word, and his surety may turn out to be a bankrupt. If he leaves his home he will miss it, but if he stays it will cause him worry and expense: the neighbours may be troublesome, or he may not enjoy the consideration due to him,

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

or it may be far from his place of worship or his business centre, or he may be of a changeable nature and realize that he has made a bad choice and been unwise to prefer it to some other house. In such circumstances the house-owner becomes a slave to his house and a servant to his neighbour. The tenant, on the other hand, free to choose at will, can find lodgings, a shop or a pleasure resort in any house he wishes. He is not subjected as a result to the slightest humiliation or injustice, meets with no scorn and endures no humili¬ ating insults; and he has no need to be on guard against the envious or to deal with intriguers. The house-owner, on the other hand, even if he is a proud man, has to drink the cup of bitterness as he struggles to make a livelihood and suffers humiliations the while. If he decides, albeit reluctantly, to forgive and forget, his gentleness is interpreted as weakness. [126] If he seeks a return for his kindness, he meets with a rougher refusal than he could have thought possible. The Prophet said: ‘Choose the neighbour before the house and the travellingcompanion before the road.’ You argue that it is easier to pay rent by instalments, because it only comes to a small amount at a time. And indeed, when misfortunes arrive together they swamp you, whereas if they come singly and at intervals you think little of them, unless you make the effort to recollect them [later, all together. You say that on the other hand] the purchase price goes out in one lump and makes a big hole in one’s capital, adding: ‘All the tears cannot be patched up, nor all that is spent regained.’ Then you point out that the tenant has no need to worry about fire or floods, pillars giving way, rafters breaking, foundations settling, dividing walls collapsing, troublesome neighbours or the jealousy of his fellows—whereas [the owner] fives constantly with disaster or the threat of disaster. You go on to say: ‘If the purchaser is a merchant, he will make more profit by putting the price of the house into his business, and will be wiser to use the money to buy stock-in-trade. If he is not a merchant, [the hazards] we have described and enumerated are enough to put him off and deter him from buying.’ [It is surprising] that your sense of duty as a fellow-member of the community and a neighbour, to say nothing of your need for a lodging—and a lodging [127] that suits you—does not stop you ad¬ vising other people not to buy. When houses do not change hands their price goes down, tenants grow bold, income is reduced and capital suffers. You pretend to be doing us a service when you encourage people to rent apartments, on the grounds that this increases prosperity.

TRADITIONAL ADAB

247

But you do not urge this out of a desire to help us; on the contrary, you are out to injure us by dissuading people from buying. It is not right to condemn someone unless their actions and be¬ haviour are many times repeated. But these blameworthy traits exist in you, and each one of them argues against you and gives grounds for suspecting and mistrusting you. You have no praiseworthy qualities, and there can be no mutual understanding between us. Now we have made it clear to you that visitors must be regarded as permanent residents, and that each additional guest entails an increase in rent. If, my dear fellow, I closed my eyes to two extra people, I wager you would soon impose on me the continual presence of outsiders in your house; the rent would be the same for a thousand people as for one, and visitors could come and go, and occupy and vacate the house, without my being a penny the richer. Moreover if I had not asked you for the extra rent, and had not acquainted you with your indebtedness, my indulgence would not have been appreciated: for you do not understand the importance that attaches to an increase in the number of tenants. A poet of bygone days said on this subject: [128] Ingratitude makes one weary of charitableness, and another: / received ingratitude in exchange for my charity: sometimes the ungrateful are those whose charitableness has not been appreciated. Your attitude to me is inspired by hatred such as sets Mu'tazilites* against Shl'ites* and men of Küfa against men of Basra, by hostility such as prevails between the tribes of Asad* and Kinda*, and by the feeling of deep uneasiness that landlords arouse in tenants. But God will help me against you. Farewell. After further anecdotes featuring the same person as protagonist, the author tells others mainly concerned with niggardliness over food.

6. A tale about Tammâm b. Jafar [167] Tammâm b. Ja'far was mean about food with an excessive meanness. He would heap reproaches on people who had eaten his bread and pursue them with his spite, sometimes even going as far as to claim that it was lawful for him to put them to death. If a guest of his should say: ‘There is no one on earth better than me at walking and running’, he would reply: ‘What else do you expect, seeing that you eat enough for ten? Is it not the belly that gives strength to the legs? May God not reward him that praises you.’ But if the same guest said: ‘No, by God, I cannot walk, for I am too weak, and get out of breath after thirty paces’, he would reply:

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‘And how do you expect to be able to walk, seeing that you have put twenty porters’ loads into your belly? Do you not know that to be spry one must eat lightly? How can anyone move freely when sated? A man who is overburdened with food cannot kneel down and prostrate himself, let alone go for a long walk.’ Suppose the guest complained of a bad tooth, explaining that he did not sleep a wink the previous night because of the shooting pain. He would retort: ‘I am surprised that you complain of one tooth and not of all of them, and that you [168] still have one left in your head! What molar could stand up to such crushing and grinding? By God, the mills of Syria would soon grow weary and the stoutest pestle be worn out by such a task! Indeed, your toothache seems to me to have come very late. Spare yourself, for moderation is a bless¬ ing; and do not maltreat yourself, for abuse is a calamity!’ But if he said: ‘I have never suffered from toothache; not one tooth of mine has ever shifted in my life’, Tammâm would reply: ‘Idiot! Chewing hardens the gum tissue, strengthens the teeth, tans the skin and consolidates the roots, whereas disuse weakens the teeth. The mouth is a part of the human body, and the same is true of the jaw as of the whole organism: work and exercise strengthen it, whereas prolonged inactivity makes it weak and soft. But go gently: over¬ work will weaken the strongest, for there is a limit and a compass to everything. [And have a care:] if you have not got toothache, have you not got a bellyache?’ If the same guest said: ‘By God, I drink a lot of water: I doubt whether there is anyone in the world who drinks more than I’, he would reply: ‘Earth and clay need water to moisten and soak them: is not the amount needed proportional to the amount of soil to be moistened? It would not surprise me if you drank all the water of the Euphrates, seeing the quantity of food you eat and the size of your mouthfuls! Do you know what you do? You take your pleasure and do not see yourself. Ask someone who will speak straightforwardly to you, and you will see that all the water of the Tigris would not suffice [to wet] the contents of your stomach!’ But if he said: T have not drunk a drop of water all day, and yesterday I did not take so much as half a pint: no one on earth drinks less [169] than I do’, Tammâm would reply: ‘Obviously you leave no room for water: you put away such a hoard in your belly that there would be no space for it. Indeed, it is surprising that you have not got indigestion. For the man who does not drink with meals does not realize how much he is eating, and if he overdoes it he runs the risk of getting indigestion.’ If he said. I cannot sleep a wink all night, and insomnia is killing

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me’, Tammâm would reply: ‘How on earth do you expect to sleep, with your stomach swollen and rumbling? Thirst alone would pre¬ vent you sleeping and keep you awake all night! If a man drinks a lot it makes him piss, and how can he get to sleep if he spends all night drinking and pissing?’ But if he said: T go off to sleep the moment I lay my head [on the pillow], and sleep like a log till morning’, he would reply. Good heavens! Food intoxicates, numbs and clouds the mind, it saturates the brain and arteries, and makes the whole body sodden. I would expect you to sleep day and night!’ If he said: T do not feel like anything to eat this morning’,Tammâm would reply: ‘Beware of eating very lightly, for to eat little when you are not hungry is worse for you than eating a lot when you are. Indeed, the very table says “Alas for the man who never feels like anything to eat!” Besides, how could you possibly have an appetite today, seeing that yesterday you ate enough for ten?’ 7. A five-dirham debt [197] Abü Sa'id al-Madâ’inï, back home in Basra, was an absolute pastmaster of meanness. He was one of the biggest and wealthiest money-lenders: a man of lively intelligence and ready repartee, far¬ sighted and never at a loss for an argument ... [198] . . . His regular clients discovered that he was going every day to al-Khuraiba* to try to recover a balance of five dirhams* due him from a client. This is a great mistake, they said to themselves, and a terrible waste of time: firmness requires that he should stand his ground, but not at the cost of making a loss; our friend is bringing trouble upon himself by this. So they resolved to take the matter up with him and obtain the benefit of his teaching. ‘Your behaviour’, they said to him, ‘seems to us [199] incomprehensible; and yet a failing in you would be more serious than in another. This business puzzles us; tell us what is behind it, for we are worried, and explain why you go to al-Khuraiba to try to recover five dirhams. In the first place we are anxious on the score of your health, in view of your age, and are afraid you might fall ill, which would prevent you, all foi the sake of a small amount, from recovering larger debts. Secondly, if you spend all day walking like that you will be compelled to eat more dinner—if you are one of the people that have dinner or to have dinner if you do not normally eat in the evening. All that adds up to more than five dirhams. Then again, you have to go through the centre of the market in your outdoor clothes; and you run the risk of being jostled and buffeted by pack-animals and having your

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clothes spoilt. Moreover your sandals will be worn into holes, and your trouser-legs get dirty and frayed. You might even stumble and wrench your sandals right off. And you put up with all this to go and collect a small amount, in which anyway you do not succeed. You are undoubtedly a man of great merit, but all the same we should like to have some clarification of the matter from you, for we are not absolutely sure that your judgment is always as sound as one might wish.’ ‘As regards my body’, replied Abu Sa'ïd, ‘the thing I am most afraid of is sitting still. I have never met anyone healthier than market porters and night roundsmen. If my predecessors died [young], it is because they were not in the habit of taking exercise. Why is it said: “So-and-so is healthier than policemen”, meaning that they are always coming and going? When business [200] confines me to the house, I keep going up and down stairs in order to avoid sitting still. ‘Next, if I neglect debtors close at hand in order to deal with those who live at a distance, it is simply that I never tackle the latter until I have finished with the former. ‘As regards the extra food, my heart and soul need to be satisfied that I give them their exact due. If my stomach calls me to account on days when I work hard, I shall do the same to it on days of rest . . . ‘As for the buffeting by pack-animals and the jostling by the throng, let me tell you that I go through the market before the people who live there get up to go to prayer, and on the way back I go round behind it. ‘As regards my sandals and trousers, from the moment I leave my own house until I am almost at my debtor’s door I carry my sandals in my hand and my trousers in my sleeve. When I arrive at his house, I put on my sandals and trousers; and when I come out, I take them off again. So on that day they get less wear and remain in better condition. Anything else?’ ‘No.’ Now I have an argument that will demolish all yours.’ ‘What is that?’ When a debtor who lives near me and owes me thousands of dinars sees the persistence [201] with which I pursue those who live at a distance and owe me but a few fils*, he brings me my due and gives up his attempts to make inroads on my possessions. In this way I both recover my assets and at the same time win myself a spell of leisure. I am always free to give up my leisure later on, for I can do as I please with it.

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‘There is a further point. If this small amount were not the residue of a larger debt and related to a specific liability, I might allow my¬ self to waive it. But to surrender something that would encourage other debtors to withhold their balances is out of the question.’ At this they rose and cried as one man: ‘No, by God, we will not question you again on a thorny question!’

8. Comprehensive scrap-recovery [205] . . . Abü Sa'id used to forbid his servant-girl to throw the garbage out, and even instructed her to collect the tenants’ garbage and put it with lois own. Every so often he would sit down, and the servant would get a basket, tip out little heaps of rubbish in front of him and rummage through them one by one. If he found some dirhams, a purse of housekeeping money, a dinar or a piece of jewellery, it is easy to guess what he did with it. Wool was destined to be collected up and sold to the makers of pack-saddles, and similarly with pieces of cloth. Rags were sold to tray and hardware merchants, pomegranate skins to dyers and tanners, bottles to glassmakers, date-stones to gazelle-breeders, [206] peach-stones to nur¬ serymen and nails and bits of old iron to blacksmiths. Pieces of papyrus were destined for the paper-mill, and sheets of paper were used as stoppers for jars. Any bits of wood he sold to pack-saddle makers, bones were used for lighting the fire and pottery fragments for new kilns, and stones were collected up for use in building. The basket was then shaken to pack down the rubbish and put on one side to serve as fuel for firing the oven. Pieces of pitch were sold to a pitch merchant. If there were some clean earth left and he wanted to make bricks, either to sell or for his own use, he would not spend money on water, but enjoined everyone in the house to wash and do their ablutions over this earth; then when it was well moistened he moulded it into bricks. ‘Anyone’, he would say, ‘who knows less than I do about the principles of thrift ought not to think of trying to save.’ One of his tenants once missed an object, of the sort that get stolen from people’s houses. ‘Tonight’, Abü Sa ïd said to them, ‘throw out the sweepings: maybe the thief will be seized with re¬ morse and drop the object into them. He will not be conspicuous, for everyone else will come by here too. And in fact the object was dropped into the sweepings that they put on top of the landlord’s garbage. He saw it before its owner, and charged him for the use of his garbage for the purpose.

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There follow some short anecdotes. The author next reproduces two letters in opposite senses, one attacking and the other defending mean¬ ness; and he then goes on to tell more stories.

9. Al-AsmaTs arguments [296] . . . Al-Asma'i* used to pray to God to save him from having to beg for loans or gifts. But God heaped such blessings on him that it was he that was importuned by others. It happened that two people came to see him on the same day, one to ask for a gift and the [297] other for a loan. They swept into his house together, which itself annoyed and irritated him. He said to the one who had come for a loan: ‘Circumstances alter cases, behaviour varies accordingly, every moment requires its own planning and everything has its own measure, and God “Every day is in some business’4. There was a time when a faqih* who hap¬ pened on a piece of lost property went by without picking it up, in order to test his fellow-men: for in those days most people were honest, and took care of things they found. Nowadays, so much have they changed for the worse, the faqïh is obliged to pick up the object and endure all the ensuing trouble and bother. T heard tell (he added) of a man who went to ask one of his friends to lend him some money. His friend left him standing at the door, and came back wearing nothing but a loincloth. The would-be borrower was surprised at this attire, but his friend said to him: “I have come to quarrel and fight, to shout and storm at you!” ‘ “Why so?” ‘ “Because in taking my property you place yourself in this dilem¬ ma: either you remove it for good or else you make me wait to get it back. If you accepted it as a gift between friends, you would be beholden to me by a debt of gratitude. If you take it as a loan, the usual practice in the case of debts is either to repay them when due or to oblige the creditor to seek repayment. If I ask you for it re¬ peatedly I shall make you cross, and if I make you cross you will be rude to me. So you will treat me with a combination of temporizing, hard words, spite, ingratitude and unfairness; and at that point I shall get just as annoyed as you. Put yourself in my place and imagine that I have come to borrow money from you . . . [298] ... So I go into my house and come out again dressed for the fray, ready to do to you today what I would have been compelled to do to you to¬ morrow. As you know, blows given by way of warning are less 4 Koran, LV, 29.

TRADITIONAL ADAB

253

damaging than blows inspired by hatred and spite; so you will be better off by the difference between the two kinds of blows and in¬ sults. ‘Besides, I prize our friendship too much to risk spoiling it or help you upset it. Do not blame me for regarding you as an outstanding man among your contemporaries; and if you hold yourself superior to them and far removed from their conduct, do not force people to know the unknown, for that would be unfair to them. ‘Loans must still be repaid, and deposits carefully safeguarded. Why is it said nowadays: It is the borrowed horse that must gallop hardest, whereas formerly it was: “It is the borrowed horse that must be spared”? . . . ‘Now that treasurers and guardians, notaries and bankers dip into deposits entrusted to their care, the latter have to be buried to protect them. Better that it should be the earth that devours them rather than those treacherous profligates, those depraved misers. All this tallies with the view of Aktham b. Saifi*, who used to say: ‘If a borrowed object were asked where it was going, it would reply: “To bring blame on my owners!”. ‘Nowadays I advise against lending money or putting it on de¬ posit, or making loans or gifts; and I must practise what I preach. I refuse to lend, for the reasons I have given you: and as for making gifts, only the public treasury is big enough to do that. If I gave you even one dirham I should be opening so wide a door on to my fortune that neither mountains nor sand-dunes could stop it up, nor yet a wall such as enclosed the peoples of Gog and Magog! ‘Men stand open-mouthed before people who have money, and it is only despair of achieving their aims that restrains them from biting. When they covet something, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that they will not devour and swallow up. Do you realize what you are going to do to your shaikh*? You are going to bankrupt him [300] and so kill him. And you know what the penalty is for the murder of a believer!’

XLII

ROBBERS AND THEIR TRICKS

A tale about brigands I heard Bilâl speaking of his companions say that their leader was called Ibrïqiyâ’. Once while on a journey they came suddenly upon ten brigands barring their way. The strongest of our band (related

254

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Bilàl) was an indomitable young hero, strikingly handsome, afraid of nothing and always first into the fray. He hurled himself at one of the brigands, but the latter turned on him, cut off his nose, tore at his loins and smashed his teeth in. He retired a beaten man, and this put my blood up. I jumped up in my turn, folded my outer robe double and wrapped it round my arm, and picked up my stick: meanwhile one of the others wrapped his mother’s veil round his arm, and a third made use of a large fruit-tray to shield his face. We came forward, with our leader Ibriqiyà’ at our head: he had wrapped a velvet cloak round his arm, and recited: If you know me not, I am the son of Kalb. One of the brigands retorted: ‘We are very ready to believe you!’ Our leader rushed at him with the base of a jar that he had in his hand, but did not succeed in wounding him; the brigand then caught hold of the sherd and hurled it at Ibrlqiya’, smashing his face in and breaking his teeth. Our leader retired, and another of our number, called Liqwân, came forward reciting: My stick, take warning, is smeared with pitch: I smite infidel brigands in the face with it. Then he rushed at one of them and smote him on the crown of his head, but did not manage to bring him down; the brigand wrested the stick from him and gave him a drubbing, dislocating his shoulder, breaking his ribs and leaving him lifeless on the ground. Next an¬ other of our number came forward, holding a spade and reciting: I am the son of Kahl, and I have a spade in my hand. By God, if I held in my palm a [mere] spoon . . . I would kill you. All the more with a spade. He aimed a blow with the spade at one of the brigands, but missed; the brigand thereupon rushed at him, wrested the spade from him and dealt him such a blow with it that he spun round seven times before falling to the ground unconscious. At this I returned to the fray, crying: I am So-and-so, leader of the fityan* . . . I swear by God and the Koran That I will smite the band Like a young man in his glory and anger. Impotence is the lot of poltroons. With this I rushed at one of them to hit him on the hands, but before I could touch him he dodged and hit me, breaking my nose and smashing my teeth. I fell to the ground unconscious, and when I opened my eyes again there was no one to be seen, and I could not tell what had become of them. Praise be to God, who gave me the victory!

TRADITIONAL A DA B

255

XLIII VAGRANTS AND THEIR TRICKS

A fine line of patter An old vagrant met a young one new to the profession, and asked him how he was. ‘God’s curses on vagrancy’, he cried, ‘and on them that follow such a miserable, unprofitable calling! It lines the face all unbeknownst, and drags a man down. Have you ever come across a successful vagrant?’ The old vagrant turned angrily to his young colleague and said: ‘Just you talk a little less, for you exaggerate. A man such as you cannot succeed because you are not predestined to, and anyway you are not grown-up yet. Vagrancy demands men. Why do you say such things?’ Then he turned [to the crowd] and said: ‘Pray listen to me. Do you not know that vagrancy is a noble, en¬ joyable, pleasing calling? Vagrants enjoy boundless happiness; their task it is to rove the world by stages, and to pace out the earth; they are the successors of Alexander the Great, who reached the East and the West. No matter where they stop, they need fear no harm. They go wherever they wish, getting the best there is to be had in every town . . . They are serene and content with their lot, and have no worries about families, possessions, houses or property: wherever they stop they find their pittance. I myself once went just as I am to a town in Media and stopped in the great mosque, with a towel round [my body], a palmetto cord round my head and an oleander stick in my hand. Quite a crowd collected around me, as though I were alHajjâj b. Yüsuf* in his pulpit. I said to them: “Good people, I come from Syria, to be precise from a town called al-Massisa*, and I am descended from conquerors and monks [who walked] in the way of God, from the gallopers and the protectors of Islam. I have taken part with my father in fourteen expeditions, seven by sea and seven on land; I have fought with the Armenian (say ‘God’s blessing on Abü al-Hasan’), with 'Amr b. 'Ubaid Allah* (say ‘God’s blessing on Abü Hafs’), with al-Battâl b. al-Husain* and many more. I have been to Constantinople and prayed in the mosque of Maslama b. 'Abd al-Malik*. If you have heard my name, so much the better; if not, let me introduce myself: I am Ibn al-Ghuzayyil b. al-Rakkàn al-MassIsi, known and celebrated on all the borders, he who smites with sword and lance. I am one of the bulwarks of Islam, and I challenged the king of Byzantium under the walls of Tarsus ... I fled with a party of merchants, but we were cut off by brigands. I call on God and on you for protection. If you see fit to restore one of the

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pillars of Islam to his home and country, [I rely on you].” By God, before I had finished my speech the dirhams were raining on me from all sides: I went away with more than a hundred pieces of silver.’ Then the young man fell on him and kissed his head, crying: ‘You are the master of goodness. May God reward you on behalf of your brothers!’

EMOTIONS XLIV

LOVE AND WOMEN

Using his favourite technique, the author defines passionate love Çishq) as a step beyond affection (hubb) in the same way that rashness is a step beyond courage. The word 'ishq is also used figuratively in an emphatic sense to denote love of renown, wealth, etc. 1. Men and love [267] . . . Our observations of the state of things here below lead us to conclude that the greatest of joys and the most perfect of pleasures is the lover’s conquest of the loved one, the possession of the object of his wooing. The suffering and grief of the unsuccessful suitor are matched only by the joy and happiness of the requited lover. We have noticed also that the more profound the passion and the more smitten the lover, the deeper the pleasure and the greater the joy that result from success. It may be argued that to triumph over a watchful enemy gives greater satisfaction than a distraught lover’s triumph over the woman he loves. Our answer is that we have known powerful dignitaries and men in exalted positions willingly renounce the satisfaction of vent¬ ing their wrath, regarding the sacrifice as a token of their superior nobility and rare tolerance and highmindedness; we have known them prodigally give away their most prized possessions, even to the point of beggaring themselves, because they put good repute above wealth and luxury; but we have never known a lover give up his beloved ... . Men only ever give other men unimportant things, compared with what they give women; and when they scent themselves, trim and dye their hair and beard, put on eye-shadow, use depilatory, shave, and are meticulous abut their dress, it is only for the sake of women that they take so much trouble, and solely on their account [268] that they go to such pains. Likewise the only purpose of high walls, stout doors, thick curtains, eunuchs, handmaids and servants is to protect them and safeguard the pleasure they give. In support of what he has just been saying, Jâhiz describes the pleasure evinced by men in the presence of their beloved: it is greater than that produced by music, which is a criterion in this field.

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2. Women’s superiority to men [269] . . . Women are superior to men in certain respects: it is they that are asked in marriage, desired, loved and courted, and they that inspire self-sacrifice and require protection . . . [270] An indication of the high esteem in which women are held is that if a man be asked to swear by God—there is none greater—and take his solemn oath to go on the pilgrimage to the House of God, or distribute his pos¬ sessions as alms, or emancipate his slaves, all that comes easily to him and causes him no embarrassment. But let him be asked to swear to put away his wife, and he grows pale, is overcome with rage, protests, expostulates, gets angry and refuses—and this even if the oath be administered by a redoubtable ruler, if he does not love his wife or regard her highly, and if she be ugly, with but a scant dowry and precious little fortune. All this is the result of the place that God has given wives in their husbands’ hearts . . . [271] . . . God created a child out of a woman without the intervention of any man, but He has never created a child out of a man without a woman. Thus it is specially to woman and not to man that He vouchsafed this won¬ derful sign, this signal token, when He created the Messiah in Mary’s bosom, without a man. After a disquisition on the need for a single lord and master (see XII, 1 above) comparable to the male animal in a flock, the author takes up the cudgels on behalf of much-despised woman; alleges that no one can love with the same passion as the Bedouins; reverts briefly to the subject of the superiority of woman; and speculates on the reasons for the difference between

3. Free women and slaves [274] . . . Slave-girls in general have more success with men than free women. Some people seek to explain this by saying that before acquiring a slave a man is able to examine her from every standpoint and get to know her thoroughly, albeit stopping short of the pleasure of an intimate interview with her; he buys her, then, if he thinks she suits him. In the case of a free woman, however, he is limited to consulting other women about her charms; and women know abso¬ lutely nothing about feminine beauty, men’s requirements, or the qualities to look for. Men, on the other hand, are sounder judges of women: for the latter only notice their outward appearance, and neglect the characteristics that please men. A woman can only say: Her nose is like a sword-blade, she has eyes like a gazelle, her neck is a silver pitcher, her leg is like the pith of a palm-tree, her hair is

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bunches of grapes, etc. But there are other grounds than these for love and hate. In this connection he has something to say about poetic comparisons that fail to describe anything; then he seeks to define

4. The canon of feminine beauty Most people who know about women, most experts on the subject, agree in preferring the majdüla, that is to say the type of woman intermediate between fat and thin. Her figure must be elegant and shapely, her shoulders symmetrical and her back straight; her bones must be well covered, and she must be neither too plump nor too skinny. The word majdüla conveys the notion of tautness, of firm flesh without superfluous fat. A graceful walk is the most beautiful thing about a woman, and she cannot walk gracefully if she is portly, fat and overburdened with flesh. Indeed, a majdüla is more often slim, and her slenderness is her best-known feature; [275] this is considered preferable both to the fat corpulent woman and to the thin skinny woman ... A majdüla is described in prose by the words: the upper part of her body is a stem and the lower part a sand-dune.

XLV

SINGING SLAVE-GIRLS

The putative authors of this text are listed in the preamble. They pro¬ claim their good fortune, and say that they have not hitherto set out their apologia because the truth seemed self-evident, but that now they feel called upon to make a 1. Reply to criticism We have heard about the criticisms levelled against us by a certain group of persons, and if we did not reply to them in our own selfdefence—for we know very well that it is in the nature of the envious to make a show of despising the object of their envy, and in the character of [men unhappily] deprived of something to say that it is worthless, to disparage it and to attack the [lucky ones] who pos¬ sess it—[if, that is, we did not reply,] we should be fully justified: for envy brings its own inevitable punishment to the envious in the shape of the [pain] it inflicts on them, the moral taint that comes of their disobedience to God, and their tendency to be dissatisfied with His blessings and angry with fate—not to mention the continual 18 +

260

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anxiety, the perpetual worry, and the sighing and yearning after a multitude of unattainable things. For a grateful man is grateful for a particular thing, whereas the envious spread their envy over an unlimited [field], and it grows in proportion to the extent of its object. But we are afraid lest the ignorant should suppose that by not replying we acknowledge the truth of the lying criticisms brought against us, and that if we shut our eyes to slander it is because we are powerless to rebut it. We have therefore set out in this letter our arguments against those who count it for shame to us that we own singing slave-girls, insult us for sitting at table with our friends, and begrudge us the least outward show of our good fortune. We hope for victory, for we have been provoked, and the provoker is more unjust [than his victim]; moreover a writer setting forth the truth is eloquent—was it not said: ‘The tongue of truth is eloquent’? —the hitting back of the oppressed is irresistible, and the erupting vehemence of a normally restrained and patient man carries all before it. [In this letter] we shall set forth our arguments against the ex¬ tension of jealousy to cover cases that are neither unlawful nor dubious; we shall then describe the good fortune that is our lot, and controvert our opponents’ assertions in terms both concise and clear. If we are prolix, it is in order to explain and make things clear; if we express ourselves tersely and concisely, it is in order to disen¬ cumber our style . . . Effects assuredly flow from causes, tails catch up with bodies, and clients follow their masters. Things in this world either come together by attraction or stay apart by repulsion. Some are the causes of others: for instance, rain is caused by clouds, which in turn are caused by water and humidity; corn is caused by seed, which in turn is caused by corn; a chicken is caused by an egg, which in turn is caused by a chicken; and man is caused by man. The universe and everything there is in the various corners of the earth, as well as everything that lies within its bosom, is an estate placed temporarily at man’s disposal; but of all his possessions the one nearest to his heart and dearest to his soul is woman. She was created so that he might find repose in her company,1 and love and kindness were set between the two of them. It is bound to be thus, just as man is bound to have more rights over woman, and she to be nearer to him than all his other [possessions]; for she was created out of him, and is a part of him, a piece of his body—and [obviously] a part of something bears a greater likeness and affinity to another part of it than to a part of something else. 1 Cf. Koran, VII, 189.

TRADITIONAL ADAB

261

Women are a tilth for men,2 just as plants are food for animals and provide sustenance for them. Were it not for the sore trials imposed on us by the prohibition of the unlawful and the freedom to avail ourselves [only] of that which is lawful, and [by the need] to spare children the confusion that results from communal wives and ensure that birthrights go to their rightful heirs, no man would have more rights than another over any particular woman—just as no one flock is more entitled to graze in an area that has had rain than another—, and the system [in force] would be that of the Zoroastrians, who say: ‘A man’s women are those who are closest to him by kinship and other ties.’ But religious obligations exist to try men and limit their freedom, as with corn, which may be eaten by the children of Adam and by all animals except those placed under a prohibition. All that is not for¬ bidden in God’s Book and the sunna* of the Prophet is lawful and permissible, and human approval or disapproval is not sufficient grounds to establish by analogy the propriety of some forbidden act and bring it within the lawful category. The author sets out to prove that jealousy is unjustifiable, supporting this with examples of the promiscuity of the early Arabs, and telling sundry stories about relations between men and women. This leads him to the subject of the Umayyad caliphs and their use of female slaves and singing slave-girls, and this is followed by a plea on behalf of music and singing. Jâhiz then comes to

2. The assessment of beauty Slaves, like any other merchandise, are the subject of haggling and outbidding at auction. To be in a position to choose the finest specimens the buyer and the seller must be able to examine them carefully; and this, as in all other transactions, entails the necessity of seeing [the goods] before making a choice. The value of slaves cannot be determined by measuring, weighing, counting or survey¬ ing; it depends on the degree of beauty, which can only be assessed by a skilled judge with a practised eye and experience of the business. Beauty is too subtle and delicate to be perceived by just anybody. It is the same with all the abstract qualities, which cannot be judged simply on visual evidence: otherwise, all creatures, including sheep and donkeys, would be able to form an opinion on them. On the contrary, such evaluation is the prerogative of shrewd judges; for them the eye is a witness on behalf of the heart and conveys its im¬ pressions to the brain, which then produces the appraisal. 2

Cf. Koran, II, 223.

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I shall attempt to explain beauty to you. It is fullness and propor¬ tion; and by fullness I do not mean anything excessive or dispro¬ portionate, such as tallness, thinness, fleshiness or size of eye or mouth over and above the normal dimensions in well-proportioned individuals. Any such excess detracts from beauty, even if it be thought to add something to physique. Everything in this world has a limit that circumscribes it and restricts its permissible size; and anything that physically or morally oversteps this limit, even in the way of religion and learning, which are the best of all, is ugly and blameworthy. As regards proportion, this means the balance (wazri) of a thing and not its size; for instance, with the earth it is the evenness of the ground, with the soul the homogeneity of its parts, and with the human body the balance between the constituent elements of its beauty. No one of them must be disproportionate to another, as for instance large eyes with a small snub nose, a large nose with small eyes and a receding chin, a large head and a broad face on a miserable puny body, a long back with short thighs, a short back with long thighs, or a forehead higher than the rest of the face. Similar rules of proportion hold good for buildings, for the various types of car¬ pets, fabrics and garments, and even for irrigation canals. By wazn we mean simply balance in the conformation and arrangement of the component parts. All this is to explain why it is permissible to touch a slave-girl before buying her; and it leads the author on to deal with the attitude of Islam to healing by touching. Then he points out that singing slave-girls naturally arouse 3. Passionate love ('ishq*) The factor that makes singing slave-girls fetch such extraordinary prices is simply the desire [they arouse], for if they were bought as ordinary slaves none of them would fetch more than the normal price per head. Most of the buyers who pay an exorbitant price for a young slave-girl do so out of passionate love. A buyer may start by having designs on a girl and seeking the simplest means of satisfying his lust; if then this turns out to be impossible, he descries his opportunity and has recourse to legal means, even though this was not his original intention. So he sells his possessions, loosens his purse-strings, and takes on his shoulders a burden of usurious interest in order to purchase the slave. After that the only profitable thing left for him to do is to go abroad with singing slave-girls and act as their procurer. All these [vicissitudes] he endures simply out

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of infatuation for the girls: having been frustrated in his aim by the severity of their masters, the conscientiousness of their keepers and the strictness of their seclusion, he is compelled to buy in order to have free use of the woman’s body, and thus Satan is kept at bay . . . I propose to describe 'ishq for you, so that you may know how it is defined. It is a sickness that attacks the soul and spreads to the body by direct contagion, the soul being weakened by the violence done to the body and physical exhaustion being followed by [moral] weakness. The [privileged] position occupied by the heart in relation to the other organs is conducive to the spread of the sickness through¬ out the body; and its intractability arises from the diversity of its causes. The sickness is compounded of divers elements, as fever is compounded of cold and phlegm; and if you attempt to treat one of the two components, the treatment is ineffectual and at the same time aggravates the other. It is the strength of its elements that makes it so persistent and so slow to be dispelled. 'Ishq is compounded of sentimental love, desire, attraction and association; it sets in, grows worse, stops at its climax and then gradually abates until it disinte¬ grates altogether in the moment of exhaustion. The word hubb (sentimental love) has the meaning normally attributed to it, and has no other connotation; for we say that a man ‘loves’ (yuhibb) God, that God ‘loves’ the believer, that a father ‘loves’ his son, that a son ‘loves’ his father, and that we ‘love’ our friends, our country or our tribe. It is possible to ‘love’ in many ways without the emotion warranting the name of 'ishq, and hence it will be seen that the word hubb without the addition of other components is insufficient to denote 'ishq. Hubb is, however, the first stage of 'ishq\ it is followed by hawâ (passion), which sometimes bears its usual literal meaning and sometimes quite a different one, as when hawâ is used of religion, love of one’s country and so forth. A man in the grip of this emotion is guided by irresistible influences in the choice of the object of his hawâ; and hence the sayings: ‘The eye of hawâ is not honest’, ‘Hubb makes a man blind and deaf’, and ‘They make their religions into gods for their hawâ.' It commonly happens that the object of a lover’s passion is far from being distinguished by perfect beauty or remarkable gifts of graces; and if he is asked for the reason he has nothing to say. Hubb and hawâ can be combined and still not constitute 'ishq. This sort of twofold emotion can be felt for a child, a friend, a country or a type of garment, for carpets or saddle-animals: but no one has ever known a man fall sick and lose his reason out of love {hubb) for his son or his country, even though he may feel a pang and a searing pain at the moment of parting. [On the other hand] we know, 18*

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directly or indirectly, of many people who have died, after much suffering and pining, of the sickness of 'ishq. Of course when attrac¬ tion is added to hubb and hawâ, I mean the natural attraction or love (hubb) of men for women and women for men that is instinctive to the males and females of all animals, then the result is true 'ishq . . . ’Ishq does not reach its full force at the first meeting. It needs to be reinforced by repeated association and planted in the heart by dint of repetition; then it sprouts like a seed in the earth, grows tall and strong, and bears fruit. Sometimes the seed gives rise to a huge trunk with thick, strong branches; in other cases the trunk shrivels up and the plant dies. This emotion, containing all these components, is true 'ishq. Infrequency of meeting aggravates and inflames it, and separation fans its flames to the point of delirium, exhaustion and neglect of all everyday matters: the image of the loved one is constantly before the lover’s eyes, monopolizing his thoughts and obtruding itself relentlessly on his consciousness. If separation is prolonged, the 'ishq gradually fades and eventually dies away, though the scars left by its wounds remain and never completely disappear. Triumphant [possession] of the loved one hastens the ending of 'ishq. This is because some people are quicker to 'ishq than others, on account of differences of temperament: some are more naturally susceptible, quicker to arrive at intimacy, and of a more passionate nature than others. Once the partner’s 'ishq becomes apparent to the loved one, the sickness spreads by contagion, implanting itself in her heart and setting fire to her entrails, by virtue of the affinity between them, the echo aroused in them both by each other, and the mutual attraction of two souls in unison. Just so the sight of someone asleep makes a man drowsy despite himself, and if someone else yawns, even though he has no desire to yawn himself, he will follow suit. It is very rare for 'ishq to arise with the same [force] between two people unless they are physically and mentally well matched, of the same degree of refinement, and have a similar disposition and tastes. When we find a handsome man falling in love with an ugly woman, or the other way round, or someone preferring ugliness to beauty and holding that no other choice is possible, we suppose it to be an error of judgment: but in fact it is mutual understanding and inner harmony [that have dictated the choice]. The 'ishq aroused by singing slave-girls, notwithstanding their many good qualities and the happiness they confer, is an absolute scourge. Do they not offer a man a range of pleasures such as can be found together nowhere else? All pleasures [involve] the senses:

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food and drink are the concern of taste, and no other sense can enjoy them to the same extent. To eat musk, which pertains to the sense of smell, would be revolting and sickening, seeing that it is clotted blood. To sniff at certain eatables which do not have a pleasant smell, such as dried fruit and the like, when one’s appetite was blunted, or even to stare at them, would have ill effects. To bring one’s ear close to the choicest perfumes in the world would give no pleasure. But when it comes to singing slave-girls three senses are involved, [not to mention] the heart, which makes the fourth: sight, in the contemplation of a beautiful and appetizing slave-girl—for [professional] skill and beauty are only rarely found together for the delectation of patrons taking their ease; hearing, as the share of the man who simply enjoys the pleasure of listening to a musical instru¬ ment; and touch, in lust and the urge for sexual gratification. Now all the senses act as scouts and v/itnesses for the heart. When a singing slave-girl lifts up her voice and starts to sing, all eyes are fixed on her and all ears turned towards her. The heart is the king, and hearing and sight vie with one another to be the first to relay to it what they have received from the singer: the two of them meet at the bottom of the heart, and there pour out everything they have picked up. In addition to the resultant gratification, the sense of touch is also involved, so that three pleasures are combined simul¬ taneously—something that never happens otherwise, and that the sense organs could not achieve singly. Thus time spent in the com¬ pany of singing slave-girls entails the most perilous enticement, for as tradition has it: ‘Beware of a look! It plants the seeds of desire in the heart, and is a sufficient enticement for the looker!’ Imagine when looking and desiring are joined by the pleasure of listening [to music] and decked out in amorous language!

4. Portrait of a singing slave-girl The singing slave-girl is unlikely to be true and loyal in love, for both by temperament and training she is disposed to set traps and spread nets to catch lovers in their toils. When an admirer looks at her she ogles him, smiles archly at him, flirts with him in the verses she sings, responds readily to his wishes, drinks with gusto, and shows herself anxious for him to stay, eager for his quick return and grieved at his departure. Once she feels that her charms have won him over and that the luckless man is caught in the trap, she presses her advantage home, and leads him to believe that her feelings for him are even stronger than his for her. Then she

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writes him notes complaining of the pain of her love, and swearing that she has filled the inkwell with her tears and wetted the paper with her saliva, that night and day he is the sole preoccupation and torment of her mind and heart, that she wants no other lover, that she prefers no other love to his, that she will never give him up, and that she wants him not for his money but for himself. Then she puts the missive into a sheet of parchment folded into six, seals it with saffron and ties it with a piece of lutestring. She brings out her secret in front of her masters, to make the doting fellow feel still more closely bound to her. She insists on his writing back to her, and if he favours her with a reply she declares that it will be her consolation and make up for her lover’s absence; then she . . . sings these lines: My beloved's letter keeps me company: at times it converses with me, at times it is my aromatic plant. The beginning of it made me laugh, but the rest of it brought tears to my eyes. Next she begins to find fault with him, grows jealous of his wife, forbids him to look at the other girls, pours half her glass into his, tries to tempt him with the apple she has bitten into, offers him a sprig of her basil, and when he leaves presses on him a lock of her hair, a piece of her veil and a chip from her plectrum. On the feast of Naurüz she gives him a belt and some sweets, and at Mihrajân a ring and some apples. It is his name that she engraves on her own ring, and his name again that falls from her lips if she chances to stumble. When she sees him she sings him this line: To look upon the object of his passion is a joy for the lover, but what terrible peril for him is the absence of the beloved! Then she tells him that she cannot sleep for her longing for him, that her love takes away her appetite, that when he is away she never stops weeping, that she cannot think of him without getting upset or utter his name without trembling, and that she has already filled a phial with tears shed for him . . . It may happen, however, that she is hoist with her own petard and genuinely begins to share her lover’s sufferings: in that event she betakes herself to his house, lets him have a kiss and more, and even gives herself to him if he thinks it lawful. Sometimes she will also conceal her talents as a musician and singer in order to keep the price down for him; or she may pretend to her masters to have some sickness and buy herself out, and then fraudulently make herself out a free woman so that he may marry her without having to pay a prohibitive price. She does this when she happens on a lover who is kind, with elegant gestures, well-spoken,

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intelligent, sensitive and high-minded; and if he writes poetry, or recites or sings it, she thinks even more highly of him. But for most of the time she is not straightforward, but employs treachery and wiles to suck her victim dry and then abandons him. It sometimes happens that the visits of three or four of her lovers coincide, though they take pains to avoid such meetings and are jealous of one another when they come face to face. In that event she weeps with one eye for one of them and laughs with the other for another, or makes sheep’s eyes at one behind another one s back. She whispers secrets to one of them and talks out loud to another, making each one think she is his alone and that appearances are no guide to their true intimacy. After they have gone she writes them all identical notes, telling each one how tiresome she finds the others and how eager she is to be alone with him with no one else present. Had the devil no other fatal wiles, no other badge, and no other seductive charms, singing slave-girls would assuredly meet his purpose. . . What I am saying is not censure of them: on the contrary, it is high praise. According to tradition: ‘The best of your women are those endowed with charm and seductiveness’, and neither Harùt and Mârùt*, nor Moses’s rod, nor Pharaoh’s wizardry could achieve what singing slave-girls achieve. 5. The training of singing slave-girls How can the singing slave-girl escape temptation, and how could she possibly be virtuous, seeing that passions are acquired by upbringing just as languages and habits are learnt by direct contact, and that she lives her whole fife from cradle to grave in an atmosphere calculated to lead her astray from godly thoughts? [For it consists] of ribald talk and all manner of tomfoolery and mischief among profligates and libertines—men with never a serious word to say, unfit o e trusted an inch, and devoid equally of fear of God and respect for humanity verest ^

knQW by heart four thousand songs and

more each of two to four lines. Multiplying it up, this comes to around ten thousand lines-in which God is never once mentioned except inadvertently, and the poet never once draws attention to the danger of divine punishment or the need to seek one s reward in the world to come. They are all on such subjects as adultery, procuring, Hshq youthful dalliance, yearning desire and amorous passion. She continues to apply herself to learning her trade, Pc § P instruction from contact with men whose conversation is nothing

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JÂHIZ

but wantonness and their recitation nothing but invitation to sin. This she is obliged to do for the sake of her calling: for if she is negligent trade falls off, if she is careless business suffers, and if she learns nothing new she makes no progress—and standing still is tantamount to slipping backward. In any trade the difference be¬ tween mediocrity and excellence lies in the diligent pursuit of in¬ creased proficiency. If a singing slave-girl wanted to follow the right path, she could not find it: if she wished to be virtuous, she could not. 6. In praise of the keepers of singing slave-girls One of the signs of our superiority is that people go a journey to come and see us, in the same way that they dance attendance on caliphs and high dignitaries. They pay us visits that we need not bother to return, give us presents when we are not obliged to give them any, and send us gifts without expecting any from us. All night long men lie sleepless and weeping, their hearts pounding and their entrails writhing, their hopes fixed on our stock-in-trade—which in the list of things bought and sold, possessed and used, comes second only in price to necklaces of precious stones. People send slave¬ owners presents of all manner of sweetmeats and sherbets: the porters whose task it is to carry them turn ruefully away after being allowed a glimpse of them. Their master reaps where these people sow, and has the benefit all to himself. He does not have to bear the burden of the upkeep of his slaves, and the cares of bread-winning for a family, the vexation of feeding many mouths, the vast expense of it, and the problem of providing for a crowd are all troubles that a slave-owner is free of. He does not need to worry his head about a rise in the price of flour, a shortage of sawiq, or a dearth of oil, nor yet about adulterated wine: for in the event of its becoming scarce or unluckily turning sour, or [the demijohn] disastrously breaking’ all these misfortunes are quickly made good again. Then again, if we are in straitened circumstances we can always without the risk of being refused, ask for a loan to tide us over’ People treat us with deference, call us by our first names, send us pressing invitations, favour us with the most interesting pieces of news and entrust us with the most closely guarded secrets. Our clients squabble over us, vie with one another for our goodwill compete for our friendship and boast vaingloriously of any favour we show them. J u WC arC aWare’ °nly Caliphs are accorded such treatmentbut then they give away more than they receive, requiting petitioners who come to them cap in hand, and enriching [their favourites],

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whereas your slave-girl owner takes the substance and gives away the shadow, selling empty air for solid gold—ingots of silver and gold.

XLVI SUPERIORITY OF THE BELLY TO THE BACK After a lengthy preamble in which he recalls that some ancient civiliza¬ tions became extinct as a result of the unnatural vice extolled by his correspondent, and that it is stigmatized in the Koran itself, Jâhiz sets out his own views; he uses the words ‘back’ and ‘belly’ in both their literal and their figurative senses, but always in unexpected contexts.

‘Backs' and ‘bellies’ When describing a man, we commonly say that we have known him as such and such a sort of man ‘ever since he came from his mother’s belly’, not ‘from his father’s back’ . . . The ‘belly’ of parchment is superior to its ‘back’, for only the ‘belly’ of a sheet can be used, and not the ‘back’; we write with the ‘belly’ of a reed-pen, not with its ‘back’, and cut with the ‘belly’, never the ‘back’, of a knife . . . Seeing that we find ancient treasures, precious deposits, priceless things such as yellow pearls, red rubies, green emeralds, musk, ambergris1, gold, silver, arsenic, quicksilver, iron, nitre, oil, pitch and all manner of precious stones, all the commodities men have the benefit of, their implements and machines for use in war and peace and in agriculture and stock-breeding, everything they use and put to advantage, every¬ thing they eat, drink, wear and touch and everything they smell and taste, [seeing that we find all these things] in deposits in the ‘belly’ of the earth, whence they are taken and extracted, whereas its ‘back’ is inhabited by poisonous insects and wild beasts the smallest of which can cause loss of human life and bring about destruction and disaster, and but few of the animals that go upon the ‘back’ of the earth are not the enemies of man, messengers of death and harbingers of doom, we are compelled in all honesty and on a reasonable view of the situation to recognize that the ‘belly’ is always and in every case superior to the ‘back’. The author continues his vindication of the ‘belly’, and ends with a violent attack on his correspondent. i Jâhiz knows perfectly well that musk and ambergris do not come out of the ground; these two words were probably added by an ignorant copyist.

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THE LIFE AND WORKS OF JAHIZ

XLVII BOASTING-MATCH BETWEEN GIRLS AND PRETTY BOYS

Vindication of frivolous subjects [1] Each branch of learning has its followers, who devote themselves to it in preference [to all others]. There are innumerable branches, some elevated and others frivolous. If a composition is intended to be amusing and entertaining and come under the heading of humour, then the substitution of an elevated style for a frivolous one will distort its meaning, and something designed to please will instead distress and grieve. A practised and experienced scholar, accustomed to cogitation, study and the perusal of books and with the habit of and a fondness for clarity of thought, may safely allow his eye to fall upon serious and humorous alike, for the sake of variety. For in time the ear grows weary of melodious sounds, limpid music and tuneful singing . . . [3] Among those who profess self-denial and poverty there are some who exhibit repugnance and disgust at the sound of the words ‘vagina’ and ‘coitus’; but the majority of these people are less learned, high-minded, noble and dignified than they pretend to be. If, adds the author, they knew that 'Abd Allah b. 'Abbâs recited in¬ decent verses in the mosque, that 'AH b. Abl Tàlib used improper language, and that it was not unknown for Abü Bakr and others to do so, they would not pretend to be so shocked. [4] These words were created to be used by all Arabic-speaking people, and to hold that they ought never to be uttered would be to make nonsense of their creation; in that case it would be more logical and better for the purity of the Arabic tongue if these words were to be withdrawn from the language . . . Jâhiz then justifies his undertaking by quoting hadiths and stories on delicate subjects. [6] In quoting these traditions we are not seeking to refute those who disapprove of such things; but seeing that we wrote Dispute between winter and summer, giving the arguments used by each season against the other, and Debate between sheep-farmers and goat-far¬ mers, we thought it right also to reproduce a discussion between homosexuals and fornicators, quoting the traditions given by the transmitters and the verses and proverbs handed down by the rhapso-

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dists; and even though this is bound to be somewhat frivolous, we were at pains to justify our attitude in the preamble to this book. May God help us to eschew foul and blameworthy language; it is from Him that we entreat help and protection, and through His mercy that we look for salvation in this world and the next. There follows a dialogue between the champions of girls and of pretty boys, copiously interspersed with quotations from the Koran, hadiths, traditions and verses which decency forbids us to translate. Jâhiz follows this dialogue with some equally scabrous anecdotes.

19

SOCIAL GROUPS XLVIII IN PRAISE OF TRADESMEN AND DISPARAGEMENT OF OFFICIALDOM This letter is addressed to a correspondent one of whose friends had spoken in praise of officials. 1. Tradesmen and officials [155] . . . This sort of talk emanates only from the more junior officials. The élite, however, the more exalted ranks, men of judgment and discernment, whose eyes have been opened by intelligence, their minds moulded by education and their judgment strengthened by long meditation, men with modesty in their blood and much experi¬ ence behind them, so that they understand the consequences of all things, have a grasp of details [156] and speak after due consideration, recognize the superiority of tradesmen and envy them their situation. They admit that their spiritual life is wholesome and their company agreeable, and know that they are always the most scrupulous, the happiest and the most secure of men; for in their courtyard they are like kings on their thrones, with beggars calling on them and cus¬ tomers coming to see them. Their means of livelihood subjects them to no humiliation, nor does weakness make them the slaves of their own transactions. It is quite otherwise with men close to the government and in its service. They wear the mantle of servility and the badge of flattery, and their hearts are filled [with awe] of their superiors; fear dwells in them, servility never leaves them, and dread of poverty is their con¬ stant companion. Moreover they are perplexed and careworn, and go in fear of the wrath of their superiors, the reproaches of their masters, the vicissitudes of fate and the possible advent of inspec¬ tions. When these occur—and they often do—I need hardly tell you how wretched they become, so that even their enemies—and all the more their friends—sympathize with them in their distress. Should we not distinguish sharply between men for whom this is the fruit of their choice and the result of their years of experience, and others who have seen their wishes fulfilled, have attained peace and tran¬ quillity and escaped misfortune, and now possess great wealth and

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the possibility of enjoying themselves without owing anything to a living soul? What a difference between a man who is beholden to no one and another who is reduced to servility by favours received, en¬ slaved by ambition, haunted by the weight of his obligations, held by the neck in a yoke of gratitude and mortgaged body and soul to the burden of his thankfulness! Furthermore the Prophet is known to have been a trader; and the very name Quraish is derived from trade (taqrish).

2. Commerce and learning [157] . . . What led your friend to disparage tradesmen was that, being inexperienced, he imagined them to be ignorant and uncultured because their occupation makes them so and prevents them devoting themselves to learning. But in what field of learning have tradesmen not achieved perfection, and been the leaders, the pick? Was there any one of the ‘Descendants’ more learned and noble than Sa'id b. al-Musayyab*? Yet he was a tradesmen, engaged in buying and selling . . . [158] He was the most skilful at interpreting dreams, the best authority on the genealogies of the Quraish*, and gave legal opinions with all the many Companions of the Prophet; he was learned to boot in the history of the jâhiliyya* and of Islam, extremely pious, studious and devout, a force for good, and highly regarded by the caliphs. The passage from here to the end of the risâla is from a text on the sub¬ ject of schoolmasters (see XXI above).

XLIX

AN ATTACK ON SECRETARIES

Portrait of a secretary [§ 11 ] . . . Every secretary is condemned to perpetual loyalty, and at the same time expected to tolerate adversity: that is the contra¬ dictory situation imposed on him and the dilemma that lies in wait for him. On his side he is not entitled to make any conditions what¬ ever; on the contrary, at the first lapse he is accused of slowness, even if he is exhausted, and at the first mistake he lays himself open to reprimand, even if his training has been inadequate. A slave has at least the right to complain to his master to have his position im¬ proved, or to ask to change it if he wishes; whereas a scribe is not

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entitled to demand his arrears of wages, nor to leave his master if he is late in paying him. He is in the same situation as slaves: nay more, he is on a par with the half-wits among them. But despite all this he elevates himself to a pinnacle of boastfulness, a peak of vanity, and a high tide of arrogance and smugness. [§ 12] From the moment that he puts on a long full-bottomed robe and takes to wearing his side-whiskers braided on his cheeks and his hair pulled over his forehead in a V, he imagines himself the master and not the underling, the sovereign above his vassals. Once your novice scribe has sat down in the seat of power, taken his place in the council of the caliphate, arranged a wicker screen to separate himself [from the common herd] and placed his inkstand in front of him, once he knows by heart the more spectacular clichés by way of rhetor¬ ic and the more elegant rudiments by way of science, and has learnt the maxims of Buzurgmihr*, the testament of Ardashir*, the epistles of 'Abd al-Hamld* and the adab* of Ibn al-Muqaffa'*, and taken the Book of Mazdak as the fountainhead of his learning and the Kalïla wa-Dimna* collection [of tales] as the secret treasury of his wisdom, he sees himself as the great Fàrüq* in matters of administra¬ tion, as Ibn 'Abbas* in exegesis, as Mu'âdh b. Jabal* in knowledge of the lawful and the unlawful, as 'Alï b. Abi Talib* in the fearless delivery of judgments and sentences, as Abü al-Hudhail al-'Allâf * in atomic and mutation theory, as Ibrâhîm b. Sayyàr al-Nazzâm* in the doctrine of kumün* and mujânasa*, as Husain al-Najjàr* in knowledge of liturgy and the doctrine of determinism, and as alAsma'ï* and Abü 'Ubaida* in lexicography and genealogy. [§ 13] His first task is to attack the composition of the Koran and denounce its inconsistencies. Next he demonstrates his brilliance by controverting the historical facts transmitted by tradition and im¬ pugning the traditionists. If anyone in his presence acknowledges the pre-eminence of the Companions of the Prophet he pulls a grimace, and turns his back when their merits are extolled. Should someone quote Shuraih*, he impugns him; should anyone praise al-Hasan* in front of him, he considers him tedious; should someone extol alSha'bl* to him, he regards him as insane; should the name of Ibn Jubair* be mentioned, he dismisses him as an ignoramus; and should the claims of al-Nakha'i* be put forward he gives it as his view that he is of no importance. And then he straight away interrupts the conversation to speak of the policies of Ardashir Pâpagàn*, the administration of Anüshirwàn*, and the admirable way the country was run under the Sâsânians. [§ 14] If he is on his guard against informers, and under sur¬ veillance by the hierarchy, he quotes prophetic traditions and then

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changes the subject to rationalism, and uses ‘firm’ verses from the Koran as an excuse to introduce the ‘abrogated’ ones. He rejects everything that is not evident to the senses, and ranks the visible and the invisible together. Among books the only one he approves of is [Aristotle’s] Logic, he commends only those that have no sale, and never admires the ones that are popular . . . [§ 15] The proof of these people’s behaviour lies in the fact that no scribe has ever been known to take the Koran as his bedside reading, exegesis as the foundation of his learning, religious knowledge as his escutcheon, or the study of traditions as the cornerstone of his education. If by any chance you come across one quoting passages from the Koran or the sunna, his jaws seem to stick as he utters the words, and his saliva does not flow smoothly. Should one of them choose to devote himself to hadith research, and take to quoting the jurists, his colleagues find him tiresome and perverted: they accuse him of depravity and professional incompetence in attempting to go against nature and pursue a branch of learning for which he was not intended.

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES In the foregoing translations we have had to retain certain Arabic words for which no satisfactory equivalent exists, and also to include a number of proper names essential to the character of the text. We accordingly list below in alphabetical order such words as require an explanation and such proper names as can be identified, with short notes on each. In the interests of brevity we have not given bibliographical references, especially since the majority of the proper names are in any case to be found in the Encyclopaedia of Islam.

abâbil, XI, 1, name given in the Koran (CV, 3) to the birds that dropped the sijjil* stones on the Abyssinian army marching on Mecca. 'Abâhila, XI, 1, Yemenite kinglets whom the Prophet confirmed in their estâtes al-'Abbâs b. 'Abd al-Muttalib, XI, 3, XVII, 2, XXVIII, 20, uncle of the Prophet. al-'Abbâs b. al-Ahnaf, XIX, 8, 2nd (8th) century poet. 'Abd Allah b. 'Abbâs, XI, 2, XLIX, cousin of the Prophet, regarded as one of the most learned men among the first generation of Muslims. 'Abd Allah al-Mansür, see al-Mansür. 'Abd Allah b. al-Muqaffa', XXIX, 3, XXXV, 3, XLIX, 2nd (8th) century writer, the translator of Kalila wa-Dimna* and regarded as one ol the founders of Arabic prose. 'Abd Allah b. Sawwâr, XXVIII, 27, cadi of Baçra*, d. 228 (842-3). 'Abd al-Idamid, XLIX, founder of the epistolary style in Arabic, d. lii 'Abdd-Malik b. Marwân, XI, 2, the fifth Umayyad caliph, d. 86 (705). 'Abd al-Muttalib b. 'Amr, XI, 1, 2, 3, the Prophet’s paternal grand¬ father. 'Abd al-Qais, XVII, 1, XXXII, confederacy of E. Arabian tribes. 'Abd al-Rahmàn b. Samura, XIV, 4, Arab general, d. 50 (670). 'Abd Shams, XI, 1, Quraishite clan, ancestors of the Umayyads. Abnâ’ XVIII, 2, the descendants of the Persian immigrants in the Yemen. Abü al-'Ainà’, XXVIII, 20, Arab poet and essayist, d. 282 or 283 (896) Abü Bakr, X, XIV, 1, 4, XV, 1,4, 8, XXVIII, 20, the first caliph, d. 13 (634). Abü al-Hasan al-Akhfash, XXVIII, 3, grammarian of Baçra, d. between 210 (825) and 221 (835). . Abü al-Hudhail al-'Allàf, XLIX, the first Mu tazihte theologian, d. between 226 (840) and 235 (850).

278

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

Abü Ishâq, XIV, 3, XXVIII, 30, 47, Abü Ishâq al-Nazzàm, II, 1, see al-Nazzàm. Abü Malik 'Amr b. Kirkira, XIX, 8, copyist of Basra who acted as a source of information for the grammarians. Abü Müsà al-Ash'arî, XIV, 1, Companion of the Prophet, chosen as one of the arbitrators between 'All* and Mu'âwiya*, d. about 42 (662). Abü Shimr, XIX, 4, 3rd (9th) century theologian. Abü Sufyân, XI, 2, XVI, 2, Mu'àwiya’s father, d. about 32 (653). Abü Tâlib, XXX, 2, the Prophet’s uncle and father of 'All*, d. about A.D. 619. Abü 'Ubaida, XIX, 8, XLIX, philologist of Basra and one of Jàhiz’s teachers, d. 209 (824). adab, XVIII, 1, XXI, XXVIII, 1, XXXIII, 1, XLIX, literary genre de¬ signed essentially to be both entertaining and instructive. 'Adi b. Zaid, XXIII, pre-Islamic Christian poet, d. about a.d. 600. afar, XIX, 6, wood used in conjunction with markh* for striking a light. Ahmad b. 'Abd al-Wahhâb, XXVII, 1, the person to whom the Book of the Circle and the Square is addressed, and whom Jàhiz handles some¬ what roughly. Ahmad b. Abï Du’âd, V, VI, VII, Mu'tazilite chief cadi, d. 240 (854). al-Ahnaf b. Qais, XI, 3, XIV, 5, XIX, 1, prominent citizen of Basra, proverbial for his hilm*; d. some time after 67 (687). al-Ahwàz, XIX, 2, XXX, 4, town in Susiana (Khüzistàn). 'À’isha, XXIX, 1, the Prophet’s widow. Aktham b. Saifï, XLI, 9, judge and sage of the pre-Islamic period. 'Ali b. Abï Tâlib, XI, 2, XII, 1, XIV, 1, 2, 4, 5, XV, 2, 3, XVII, 2, XXVIII, 20, XXIX, 1, XXX, 4, XLIX, cousin and son-in-law of the Prophet, who became the fourth caliph and was opposed by Mu'àwiva*- d 40 (660). ’ ’ Ali al-Sajjâd, XI, 2, 'All b. 'Abd Allah b. al-'Abbàs, grandfather of the first 'Abbasid caliphs. 'Amr, XI, 2, see Hàshim. 'Amr b. al-'Âç, XIV, 5, XVI, 2, Companion of the Prophet and general, chosen as arbitrator with Abü Müsà al-Ash'arî* in the dispute between 'All* and Mu'âwiya*; d. 43 (663). 'Amr b. Kulthüm, XIX, 6, pre-Islamic poet. 'Amr b. 'Ubaid Allah, XLII, emir of Melitene, d. 249 (863). Anas b. Abi Shaikh, XXVIII, 50, secretary to Ja'far b. Yahyà al-Barmaki, accused of atheism and put to death in 187 (803). al-Anbâr, XXVIII, 36, town on the left bank of the Euphrates. anqd’ mughrib, XXII, 2, fabulous bird resembling the phoenix, which was considered by some Shi ites to have the task of preparing the cradle for the imam to come. Ançàr, VIII, 2, XVI, 2, inhabitants of Medina who supported the Prophet at the time of his emigration. Anüshirwàn, XXXIX, 6, XLIX, Sàsànian king who reigned from a d 531 to 579.

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

279

anwâ\ XVIII, 4, XIX, 9, system of computation used by the early Arabs, based on the observation of certain stars. Ardashir Pàpagàn, XXXIX, 6, XLIX, Sàsànian king who reigned from a.d. 226 to 241. Asad, XXXII, XLI, 5, N. Arabian tribe. Ashbân, XXXI, 2, a people regarded by Muslim writers as of Persian origin. al-'Askar, XXVIII, 46, XXX, 4, 'Askar Mukram, XXVIII, 34, town in Susiana (Khüzistàn). al-Asma'I, XIX, 8, XLI, 9, XLIX, philologist of Baçra and one of Jahiz’s teachers; d. 213 (828). al-'Attâbl, XXXI, 2, letter-writer and poet, d. early 3rd (9th) century. 'Awâçim, XXXI, 2, part of the border country between the Byzantine and Arab empires. Ayyüb b. Ja'far, XIX, 4, 'Abbâsid prince. Bakr [b. Wâ’il], XVII, 1, XXXVII, 7, confederacy of N. Arabian tribes. Banawï, XXVIII, 5, singular of Abnà’*. Band 'Abd Manàf, XII, 1, clan of the Quraish*. Band Faq'as, XXXII, branch of the Asad*. Band Makhzum, XXVIII, 48, clan of the Quraish*. Band Sulaim b. Mançdr, XXVIII, 30, XXXI, 2, tribe of the Qais*. Band Umayya, XXVIII, 48, Quraishite* clan from which the Umayyads were descended. Barçdmâ, XXVIII, 45, Hârdn al-Rashïd’s* musician. Bàqil, XXVIII, 1, pre-Islamic figure whose lack of eloquence was pro¬ verbial. Basra, XIX, 9, XXVII, 17, 21, 27, 32, XXX, 4, XXXIX, 4, town of S. Iraq. Batïha, XXX, 4, extensive swampy area in the neighbourhood of Basra*. al-Battâl b. al-IIusain, XLIII, warrior of the Umayyad period who passed into legend. baydn, XIX, 3, in general, clarity of exposition by whatsoever means. Bukhtlshd', XXII, name borne by several physicians of the 'Abbâsid period. Buzurgmihr, XLIX, Iranian figure whose wisdom was proverbial. Dahrites (dahriyya), XV, 8, sect characterized by materialist views. dânaq, XVIII, 4, coin and weight equivalent to one-sixth of a dirham* or dinar*. dhimmi, XXVIII, 48, tributary non-Muslim. Di'bil, XXVIII, 18, Arab poet, d. 246 (860). dinar, XXIV, XXVIII, 29, 50, XXX, 4, XLI, 5, gold coin weighing 4-25 gr. dirham, IV, 4, XXIV, XXVIII, 32, XXX,4, XLI, 5, 7, silver coin weighing 2-98 gr. diwân, XIX, 4, register of receipts and expenditure. fâjir, XVI, 2, libertine.

280

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

faqïh, I, 1, XLI, 9, jurist. Fàrüq, XLIX, surname of 'Umar b. al-Khattâb*. fâsîq, XIV, 1, XVI, 1, Muslim guilty of a grave sin and doomed in the Mu'tazilite view to eternal Hell. Fâtima, X, daughter of the Prophet and wife of 'Ali*. fatra, IV, 5, used here in the sense of a weakening or growing faint. fils, XLI, 5, 7, small copper coin. fiqh, XXXV, 3, Islamic law. firâsh, XVI, 2, bed: here, lawful wife. Firüz al-Dailamï, IV, 6, one of the Abnâ’* sent to the Yemen by the king of Persia. fisq, XVI, 2, transgression of the law. fityân, XLII, apparently used here to denote members of a band of brigands. fuqahâ’, VIII, 2, XIV, 4, plural of faqih*. furiï, VI, systematic elaboration of the law (opposite of usiil*). al-Gharîd, VIII, 2, early Islamic poet and singer. Ghassan, XVII, 1, pre-Islamic Syrian tribe and dynasty. hadïth, V, X, XV, 3, XVI, 4, XXVIII, 51, XXXV, 1, saying of the Prophet. al-Hajjâj b. Yüsuf, XLIII, statesman of the Umayyad period, d. 95 (714). Ilamza [b. 'Abd al-Muttalib], XVII, 2, XXVIII, 20, uncle of the Prophet. al-Harith b. Ka'b, XVII, 1, S. Arabian tribe. al-Harra, XXVIII, 30, XXX, 2, basalt desert stretching from southern Syria to Medina. Hàrün al-Rashïd, XI, 2, celebrated 'Abbàsid caliph, d. 193 (809). Hàrün al-Wâthiq, XI, 2, see al-Wàthiq. Hârüt and Mârüt, XLV, 4, pair of angels believed to have taught men sorcery. al-Hasan b. 'All b. Abï Tàlib, XI, 3, XIV, 4, elder son of Fâtima* and 'Ali*, who abdicated to Mu'àwiya* in the ‘year of reunion’; d. 49 (669). al-Hasan [al-Basrl], XLIX, thinker of Basra who had a considerable in¬ fluence on theology; d. 110 (728). al-I4asan b. Hàni’, XXVIII, 1, famous poet of the 2nd (8th) century, better known as Abü Nuwàs. al-Hasan b. Wahb, IX, 1, 2, collaborator of Ibn al-Zayyàt’s*. Hâshim b. 'Abd Manàf, XI, 1, 3, ancestor of the Hàshimite family. Hàshimites, XI, 1, Quraishite* family to which the 'Abbâsids belonged, yatim [al-Ta’ï], XI, 3, pre-Islamic knight celebrated for his generosity. hilm, XI, 3, XIV, 1, XXXVII, 2, XXXIX, 1,4, complex quality compounded of dignity, poise, self-control, etc. Himyarites, XVII, 1, early inhabitants of S. Arabia. al-Hlra, XVII, 1, XXVII, 2, XXVIII, 36, seat of the Lakhmid* princes of Iraq.

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

281

hubwa, XXVII, 3, squatting position in which the skirts of the robe are rolled up under the haunches to form a cushion. Hujr b. 'Adî, XVI, 2, person regarded as the first Shi'ite martyr. Husain al-Najjàr, XLIX, theologian of opposing views to Abü al-Hudhail* and al-Nazzâm*. 'Ibâd, XVII, 1, name used for the Christians of al-Hira*. Ibn 'Abbas, see 'Abd Allah b. 'Abbas. Ibn Abi 'Atiq, XXIX, great-grandson of the caliph Abü Bakr*. Ibn Dâra, XXXII, poet dating from the end of the jâhiliyya* and the early days of Islam. Ibn Dhî Yazan, XXIX, 4, see Saif b. Dhi Yazan. Ibn Hanbal, V, celebrated theologian and founder of an important doc¬ trinal school. Ibn Jubair, XLIX, traditionist, d. 103 (721). Ibn al-Muqafia', see 'Abd Allah b. al-Muqaffa'. Ibn al-Zayyât, XXXIV, 'Abbâsid vizier and friend of Jâhiz’s. Ibn al-Zubair, XI, 2, XXX, 1, anti-caliph who set himself up at Mecca in the Umayyad period. Ibrâhîm, XXVIII, 14, Ibrâhîm al-Nazzâm, XXVIII, 3, Ibrâhîm b. Sayyâr al-Nazzâm, XIX, 4, XLIX, see al-Nazzâm. Ibrâhîm b. al-Sindî, XXVIII, 42, friend of Jàhiz’s and son of a high official under Hàrün al-Rashïd*. ihsân, XVI, 1, status characterized principally by the existence of sexual relations within lawful wedlock. ïlâf, XI, 1, treaty made by the Quraishites with neighbouring peoples for the protection of their trade routes. Crab, XIX, 8, inflexion. 'ïsâbâd, XXVIII, 56, district of western Baghdad. 'ishq, XLV, 3, 5, passionate love. Ismâ'ïl b. 'Alï, XXVII, 3, 'Abbâsid prince. isnâd, X, XXVIII, 51, chain of transmission of traditions. istitü'a, II, 3, XV, 6, XXVIII, 43, in Mu'tazilite doctrine, man’s capacity to create his own actions. Iyâd, XVII, 1, N. Arabian tribe. Jabbul, XXVIII, 32, Babylonian town on the east bank of the Tigris. Ja'far [b. Abî Tâlib], XVII, 2, XXVIII, 20, cousin of the Prophet and brother of 'Alï*; d. 8 (629). Ja ‘far b. Sulaimàn, XXX, 4, traditionist, d. 178 (794). jâhiliyya, XXXI, 1, XXXIX, 3, 6, XLVIII, 2, period before the advent of Islam. jamâ’a, I, 1, here used specifically to denote the Sunnites*. Jazîra, XIX, 6, upper Mesopotamia. jirri, XXVIII, 30, kind of catfish. Jundaisâbür, XXVIII, 34, town in Susiana (Khüzistàn) famous for its medical school.

282

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

Ka'ba, XI, 1, temple at Mecca. kâfir, XVI, 2, unbeliever. kalâm, I, 1, 2, IV, 2, dogmatic theology. Kalila wa-Dimna, XXXI, 3, XLIX, collection of Indian fables, translated into Arabic by Ibn al-Muqaffa'*. kankala, XXXI, 3; the reading is dubious, but the word denotes a one¬ stringed musical instrument. al-Karkh, XIX, 2, district of Baghdad. Khabbàb [b. al-Arathth], XV, 1, one of the earliest converts to Islam. Khalaf al-Ahmar, XIX, 8, a transmitter of poetry. al-Khalil b. Ahmad, XXVI, XXXV, 3, grammarian and discoverer of Arabic prosody. Khàrijites, II, 2, XIV, 3, XVIII, 3, religious sect opposed to the Shfites* and the Sunnites*, which engaged in repeated warfare. Kharlukh, XXX, 3, Turkish tribe. al-Khuraiba, XLI, district of Baçra. Kinda, XLI, 5, S. Arabian tribe. al-Kindi, XLI, 5, perhaps the celebrated philosopher and astronomer, d. some time after 256 (870). Kitâb al-Bâh, XXVII, 3, probably the Panchatantra. Küfa, XIX, 2, XXX, 4, XXXIV, 4, town in Iraq, rival to Basra. kufr, XVI, 2, unbelief. kumün, XLIX, doctrine of al-Nazzam’s according to which things are concealed one within another. kunya, IV, 4, XVII, 2, XXX, 1, agnomen or name consisting of Abü (father) followed usually by the name of the eldest son. Lakhm, XVII, 1, pre-Islamic tribe and dynasty of al-Hira*. Ma'bad, VIII, 2, musician and singer of the Umayyad period: d. 125 ,(743)Ma'bad, XLI, 5, theologian and contemporary of Jahiz’s. al-Madâ’in, XXVII, 2, Babylonian town or group of towns including Ctesiphon. madini, XVII, 2, a costly fabric. al-Mahdî, XI, 2, 'Abbâsid caliph. al-Mansür, XI, 2, 'Abbâsid caliph. markh, XIX, 6, wood used in conjunction with 'afar* for striking a light Ma'rüf al-Dubairï, XXXII, early poet. Marwàn b. al-flakam, XI, 2, father of the Marwânid (Umayyad) calinhs1 d. 65 (685). v ’ Marwànids, XI, 2, branch of the Umayyad dynasty. Maslama b. 'Abd al-Malik, XLIII, son of the caliph 'Abd al-Malik, who waged war against the Byzantines and reputedly reached the walls of Byzantium. Masrüq b. Abraha, XXIX, 4, governor of the Yemen on behalf of the Abyssinians.

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

283

al-Maçsîsa, XLIII, town in Cilicia (anc. Mopsuestia). maulâ, XVI, 4, XIX, 2, emancipated slave, client. mawâlï, XVI, 4, XVIII, 2, plural of maulâ*. Miçr, XXVII, 2, early Egyptian town near the site of modern Cairo. Mu'âdh b. Jabal, XLIX, one of the Companions of the Prophet. Mu'ammar, II, 1, Mu'tazilite* and contemporary of Jâhiz’s. Mu'âwiya, XI, 3, XIV, 1, 2, 4, 5, XVI, 2, XIX, 1, XXVIII, 20, XXXVII, 6, founder of the Umayyad dynasty; d. 60 (680). Mucjar, IV, 6, Mutantes, XVII, 1, N. Arabian tribal group. al-Mughira b. Shu'ba, XIV, 5, leading figure in the early days of Islam; d. between 48 (668) and 51 (671). muhâjir, VII, 2, one who emigrated from Mecca to Medina with or after the Prophet, an ‘Emigrant’ (plural muhâjirün). al-Muhallab [b. Abi Sufra], XIV, 5, Arab general, d. 82 (702). Muhammad (b. 'Abd Allah b. 'Abd al-Muttalib al-Tihàmi al-Abtahi), IV, 4, 5, 6, 7, XI, 1, XV, 2, XIX, 9, the Prophet. Muhammad b. Ahmad b. Abi Du’àd, VII, son of the chief cadi Ahmad b. Abi Du’âd* ; d. shortly before him. Muhammad b. al-Jahm, XXVIII, 31, contemporary of Jâhiz’s and most probably the subject of the portrait in text XXIV. Muhammad al-Kâmil, XI, 2, Muhammad b. 'Ali, father of the first 'Abbâsid caliphs. Muhammad al-Mahdï, XI, 2, see al-Mahdi. Mujammi', XI, 2, surname of Qusayy*. mujânasa, XLIX, doctrine of al-Nazzâm’s according to which all living things constitute a single category. Mujjâ'a, XXVIII, 36, one of the Companions of the Prophet. Mukhàriq, VIII, 2, XXVIU, 45, famous singer of the early 3rd (9th) century. mulham, XVII, 2, a costly fabric. mii’min, XVI, 1, believer. ., e , munsif, XIX, 8, poem in which the author acknowledges the merits ol the enemies of his tribe. Musailima, XXVIII, 36, prophet of the Banü Hanifa and contemporary of Muhammad’s.

mutabbaqa, XVII, 2, a costly fabric. mutakallimün, V, VII, dogmatic theologians. al-Mu'tasim, V, XI, 2, XXI, 'Abbasid caliph, d. 227 (842). mut’at al-nisâ', X, temporary marriage. mu’tazila, XXVII, 5, theological school whose doctrines make great use of logic and dialectic. Mu'tazilite, I, 1, XLI, 5, adherent of the foregoing school. Mutï' b. Iyâs, XXIII, a poet. nabidh, VIII, 1, 2, XXVIII, 5, date wine. Nâbita, XVI, ‘the rising generation’. Najràn, XVII, 1, town in the Yemen.

284

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

al-Nakha'i, XLIX, traditionist, d. 96 (716). nâshid, XXVIII, 50, officer responsible for pursuing and recapturing absconding slaves. nasib, XIX, 8, introductory verse of a qasida*. al-Nazzâm, I, 1, II, 1, 2, XIV, 3, XIX, 4, XXVIII, 3, 14, 30, 47, XLIX, prominent Mu'tazilite theologian, who taught Jâhiz kalâm*. nisba, XIX, 3, attitude or posture that explains itself. Nizàrites, XXVIII, 32, general expression for northern Arabs. qâ'if, XIX, 9, physiognomist. Qais b. 'Àsim, XIX, 1, poet and warrior who lived at the end of the jahiliyya* and in the early days of Islam. Qais(ites), XXVIII, 42, confederacy of N. Arabian tribes. qasida, IV, 7, XIX, 8, classical verse-form. qàsit, XIV, 4, designation taken from the Koran (LXII, 14, 15) and here applied to Mu'âwiya’s supporters in the sense of ‘rebel’. qibla, XVI, 1, the direction of prayer, i.e. of the Ka'ba*. qïrdt, XVIII, 4, XXX, 4, XLI, 5, weight of about 0-2 gr. Qudâ'a, XVII, 1, group of tribes. Quraish, X, XV, 4, XVI, 4, XLVIII, 2, Quraishites, IV, 6, 7, X, XI, XII, 1, XV, 1, XXVIII, 48, XXXII, XXXIX, 1, Meccan tribe to which the Prophet belonged. Qusayy, XI, 2, ancestor of the Prophet and legendary hero. qutni, XXXIV, 4, presumably denotes a type of paper made from cotton rags. Rabï'a, XVII, 1, N. Arabian tribal group. râfida, XXVII, 5, school of thought of the extreme SM'ites*. rajaz, IV, 7, XIX, 8, simple metre not used in the composition of a qasida*. Raqqa, XIX, 6, town in upper Mesopotamia (anc. Kallinikos). râwi, XXXIV, 7, a transmitter of poetry. Rüm, XI, 1, general term used to designate the Byzantines. ruwàt, XIV, 5, XIX, 8, XXXIV, 7, plural of râwi*. Safiyya, XXIX, 1, wife of the Prophet. Sahban Wà il, XXVIII, 1, personality of the pre-Islamic period whose eloquence was proverbial. Sahl b. Hàrün, XXVIII, 18, 56, author and poet; d. in the early 3rd (9th) century. Sa id b. al-Musayyab, XLVIII, 2, traditionist of the early days of Islam Saif b. Dhï Yazan, IV, 6, XXIX, 4, partly legendary hero of S. Arabian history. sakhina, XXXII, kind of gruel. Salm, XXXV, 3, director of the ‘House of Wisdom’ at Baghdad. Sawâd, XIX, 2, XXVIII, 5, fertile plain surrounding Küfa*.

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

285

al-Sha'bi, XLIX, traditionist, d. some time before 110 (728). Shaibat al-flamd, XI, 2, surname of 'Abd al-Muttalib*. shaikh, XIX, 9, XXVIII, 42, XLI, 3, 9, respected person, elder. Shl'ites, XIV, 3, 5, XV, 3, XVIII, 2, XXVIII, 5, 15, XLI, 5, supporters of 'All*. Shuraih, XLIX, famous cadi of Küfa*. shu'übiyya, XVI, 4, in general those who held that non-Arabs were superior to Arabs. sijjïl, XI, 1, the stones reputedly dropped on the Abyssinians by the abâbil* birds. siwâk, XXII, piece of wood used as a toothbrush. Sumayya, XVI, 2, woman of easy virtue, mother of Ziyâd b. Abihi*. sunna, IV, 2, VI, VIII, 2, XVI, 2, XLV, 1, XLIX, the words and deeds of the Prophet. Sunni, I, 1, professing the orthodox doctrine of Islam, as opposed to the Shl'ites* and the Khârijites*. Sürâ, XXVIII, 46, village in Iraq. tâbi'ün, VIII, 1, the ‘Descendants’, i.e. the generation following that of the

Companions of the Prophet. ta'dû, XII, 2, XV, 6, 8, recognition of something as just. tafra, VI, XXVIII, 33, abrupt mutation, missing the intermediate stages. Taghlabï, X3X, 6, one of the tribe of Taghlib*.

Taghlib, XVII, 1, XXXVII, 7, partially Christian N. Arabian tribe. Taimâ’, XVII, 1, oasis in N. Arabia. tajwir, XII, 2, XV, 6, 8, recognition of something as unjust. Talha, XXIX, 1, one of the Companions of the Prophet, d. 36 (656). Tâlibites, XXX, 2, descendants of Abü Tâlib*. Tamim, XIX, 1, N. Arabian tribe. taqiyya, XV, 7, ‘caution’ or ‘tactical dissimulation (i.e. dispensation from the requirements of religion under compulsion or the threat of injury). tawallud, XXVIII, 33, the consequences or ‘issue’ of man’s actions. Tawi’ XVII, 1, tribe of Yemenite origin. Thumâma b. Ashras, XXVIII, 29, Mu'tazilite theologian, contemporary and friend of Jâhiz’s. Toquz Oghuz, XXX, 3, Turkish tribe. . Tukhârï, XVIII, 3, native of Jukharistan, on the upper reaches of the Amu Darya (anc. Oxus). al-Ubulla, XXVII, 2, XXVIII, 36 town in S. IQraJYn^.rrB^ra*xxvn 5 'Umar [b. al-Khattâb], X, XIV, 1, 4, XV, 4, 8, XXVIII, 20, XXXVII, 5, the second caliph, successor to Abü Bakr*. Umm Habïba, XXIX, 1, wife of the Prophet. ,,r.,7/ VT fundamental principles of the law. 'Uthmân [b 4ffàn], X, XIV, 1, 4, XV, 8, XVI, 1, XXVIII, 20, the third caliph, successor to 'Umar*.

286

GLOSSARY OF ARABIC WORDS AND PROPER NAMES

Wàdï al-Qurà, XVII, 1, depression near Medina. Wahriz, XXIX, 4, name given by the Arabs to the leader of the Persian irregulars sent against the Abyssinians in the Yemen. al-Walîd b. Yazîd, XI, 2, Umayyad caliph, d. 126 (744). Wàsit, XXXIV, town in Iraq midway between Basra* and Küfa*. al-Wâthiq, XI, 2, 'Abbàsid caliph. Yahyâ b. Khâlid, XXXV, 3, Barmakid vizier, d. 170 (786). Yahyâ b. Nujaim, XIX, 8, a râwi* of Basra*. Ya'lâ b. Munabbih, XXIX, 1, personage who with 'À’isha*, Talha* and al-Zubair* contributed towards the fitting-out of an expedition against Basra*. al-Yamâma, XXVIII, 36, town and region of central Arabia. Yathrib, XVII, 1, old name of Medina. Yazîd [b. 'Abd al-Malik], XI, 2, XVI, 2, Umayyad caliph, d. 107 (724). al-Yazïdï, XIX, 8, Abü Muhammad Yahyâ b. al-Mubàrak, grammarian of Basra and tutor to the future caliph al-Ma’mün*; d. 202 (817-18). Yüsuf b. 'Umar, XXXIX, 6, governor of Iraq under the Umayyads; d. 126 (744). Zaid b. Thàbit, IV, 2, XV, 1, one of the Companions of the Prophet and first editor of the Koran. Zaidites, XII, 1, group of moderate Shi'ites*. Zalzal, XXVIII, 45, musician of the time of Hàrün al-Rashïd*. Zanj, XIX, 2, XXVIII, 30, XXXI, 1, African Negroes, employed mainly as navvies in the Batiha*. Zanjï, XXVII, 2, singular of the foregoing. zindiq, IV, 2, XV, 8, term used by the Mu'tazilites* to denote an atheist. Ziyàd (b. Ablhï], XIV, 5, XXX, 4, son of Sumayya*, recognized by Mu'awiya* as his half-brother. Ziyâdids, XIX, 2, descendants of Ziyâd. al-Zubair (b. al-'Awwâm], XV, 2, XXVIII, 20, XXIX, 1, one of the Companions of the Prophet, d. 36 (656). al-Zuhrï, XIV, 3, traditionist, d. 124 (742). zunnâr, XVII, 2, girdle that tributaries (dhimmïs*) were obliged to wear as a distinguishing mark.