The Patron was a very real factor in the poetical life of Baghdad.
Here is a story told by the poet Abu Bakr Ibn Al-Allaf. "I had passed a
night at the palace of Al-Motadid with a number of his other companions,
when a eunuch came to us and said: 'The Commander of the Faithful sends
to tell you that, after you withdrew, he did not feel inclined to sleep,
and composed this verse: _When the vision of my mistress, fleeting
through the shades of night, awoke me, behold! my chamber was deserted,
and far off was the place of our meeting_. He says also,' continued the
eunuch, 'that he cannot complete the piece, and will give a rich present
to anyone who adds to it a second couplet to his satisfaction.'
"Those who were present failed in accomplishing the task, although they
were all poets of talent, on which I," says Abu Bakr, "hastened to
pronounce the following verse: _On this I said to my eyes: 'Sleep again;
perhaps the vision, in its night visits, may return to me!'_"
The eunuch then retired, bearing Abu Bakr's not very remarkable effort
with him, and having come back, said: "The Commander of the Faithful
declares that your verse is perfect, and he has ordered you a present."
Sometimes the passion for verse enjoyed and encouraged by these courtly
gentleman seems to reach absurd lengths. Thus Abu Tammam At-Tai, the
poet, once recited to the Emir Abu Dolad Al-Ijli the following lines:
_At the sight of dwellings abandoned like these, and places of joyous
meetings now deserted, our tears, long treasured up, were shed in
torrents!_
Abu Dolad so admired the piece that he gave the poet fifty thousand
dirhems, saying: "By Allah! it is less than your poem is worth; and
that idea is only surpassed in beauty by your elegy on the death of
Muhammad Ibn Hamid At-Tusi."
"Which," asked Abu Tammam, "does the Emir mean?"
"Why," said Abu Dolad, "your poem commencing thus: _Now let misfortune
do its worst, and time inflict its evils! There is no excuse for eyes
which have not shed their tears._ I wish, by Allah! that this elegy had
been composed by you on me."
"Nay!" said the poet, "may I and my family die to save the Emir, and may
I leave the world before you!"
To this Abu Dolad replied: "He whose death is deplored in verses like
those is immortal."
Surely the palmy days of poetry have passed away. How one would like to
think of Mr. Kipling, say, being summoned to Buckingham Palace to speak
a piece and retiring with a cheque for £1025, which is what fifty
thousand dirhems come to.
Gratitude, even when it is excessive, is always a good theme. In the
following case the proportions were respected with more fitness.
Al-Wazir Al-Muhallabi was both vizier and poet. He was also a very poor
vegetarian, and once, on a journey, being unable to obtain flesh-food,
he recited extempore these verses: _Where is death sold, that I may buy
it? for this life is devoid of good. Oh! let death, whose taste to me is
sweet, come and free me from a detested life! When I see a tomb from
afar, I wish to be its inhabitant. May the Being who granteth
tranquillity have compassion on the soul of the generous man who will
bestow death, as a charity, upon one of his brethren!_ These verses
being heard by a person who was travelling in the same caravan with him,
and whose name was Abd Allah As-Sufi (or, by another account, Abu
'l-Hasan Al-Askalani), he bought for Al-Muhallabi a dirhem's worth of
meat, cooked it, and gave it to him to eat.
"They then," says Ibn, "separated, and Al-Muhallabi having experienced a
change of fortune, became vizier to Moizz Ad-Dawlat at Baghdad, while
the person who had travelled with him and purchased the meat for him was
reduced to poverty. Having then learned that Al-Muhallabi was a vizier,
he set out to find him and wrote to him these lines: _Repeat to the
vizier, for whose life I would sacrifice my own--repeat to him the words
of one who reminds him of what he has forgotten. Do you remember when,
in a life of misery, you said: 'Where is death sold, that I may buy
it?'_ The vizier on reading the note recollected the circumstance, and,
moved with the joy of doing a generous action, he ordered seven hundred
dirhems to be given to the writer, and inscribed these words on the
paper: _The similitude of those who lay out their substance in the
service of God is as a grain of corn which has produced seven ears and
in every ear a hundred grains; for God giveth many-fold to whom He
pleaseth._ He then prayed God's blessing on him, and clothed him in a
robe of honour, and appointed him to a place under government, so
that"--the corollary seems hardly worth adding--"he might live in easy
circumstances."
Poetry was, you see, worth practising in Baghdad in those days; nor had
the poets any shame in accepting presents. What princes liked to give it
was not for poets to analyse or refuse. Al-Moizz Ibn Badis, sovereign of
Ifrikya and the son of Badis, was a patron indeed. "Poets," says Ibn
Khallikan, "were loud in his praise, literary men courted his patronage,
and all who hoped for gain made his court their halting-place."
To the modern mind he was too easily pleased, if the following story is
typical. He was sitting, one day, in his saloon with a number of
literary men about him, when, noticing a lemon shaped like a hand and
fingers, he asked them to extemporize some verses on that subject. Abd
Abu Ali Al-Hasan Ibn Rashik Al-Kairawani at once recited the following
lines: _A lemon, with its extremities spread out, appears before all
eyes without being injured. It seems to hold out a hand towards the
Creator, invoking long life to the son of Badis._
Al-Moizz declared the verses excellent and showed more favour to the
author than to any other literary man in the assembly.
Ready wit not less than poetical ingenuity could always win the respect
of these gentlemen, whose cynical cold-bloodedness and implacability
were ever ready to be diverted, provided that the diversion was
intellectual. For instance, it is related that Al-Hajjaj said to the
brother of Katari: "I shall surely put thee to death."
"Why so?" replied the other.
"On account of thy brother's revolt," answered Al-Hajjaj.
"But I have a letter from the Commander of the Faithful, ordering thee
not to punish me for the fault of my brother."
"Produce it."
"I have something stronger than that."
"What is it?"
"The book of Almighty God, wherein He says: 'And no burdened soul shall
bear the burden of another.'"
Al-Hajjaj was struck with his answer, and gave him his liberty.
Among the lavish patrons of poets Saif Ad-Dawlat stands high. It is
related that he was one day giving audience in the city of Aleppo, and
poets were reciting verses in his praise, when an Arab of the desert, in
squalid attire, stepped forward and repeated these lines: _My means are
spent, but I have reached my journey's end. This is the glory of all
other cities, and thou, Emir! art the ornament whereby the Arabs surpass
the rest of men. Fortune, thy slave, has wronged us; and to thee we have
recourse against thy slave's injustice._
"By Allah!" exclaimed the prince, "thou hast done it admirably." He then
ordered him a present of two hundred gold pieces.
Abu 'l-Kasim Othman Ibn Muhammad, a native of Irak and kadi of Ain
Zerba, relates as follows: "I was at an audience given by Saif Ad-Dawlat
at Aleppo, when the kadi Abu Nasr Muhammad Ibn Muhammad An-Naisapuri
went up to him, and having drawn an empty purse and a roll of paper out
of his sleeve, he asked and obtained permission to recite a poem which
was written on the paper. He then commenced his kasada, the first line
of which was: _Thy wonted generosity is still the same; thy power is
uncontrolled, and thy servant stands in need of one thousand pieces of
silver._
"When the poet had finished, Saif Ad-Dawlat burst into a fit of laughter
and ordered him a thousand pieces of gold, which were immediately put
into the purse he had brought with him."
Here is a delightful account of the relations between a crafty poet and
a patron who was not wholly a fool. Abu Dulaf was a spirited, noble, and
generous chief, highly extolled for his liberality, courage, and
enterprise, noted for his victories and his beneficence. Men
distinguished in literature and the sciences derived instruction from
his discourse, and his talent was conspicuous even in the art of vocal
music. His praises were celebrated in kasadas of the greatest beauty.
Bakr Ibn An-Nattah said of him: _O thou who pursuest the study of
alchemy, the great alchemy consists in praising the son of Isa. Was
there but one dirhem in the world, thou wouldst obtain it by this
means._
It is stated that, for these two verses, Abu Dulaf gave Ibn An-Nattah
ten thousand dirhems. The poet then ceased visiting him for some time
and employed the money in the purchase of a village or estate on the
river Obolla. He afterwards went to see him, and addressed him in these
words: _Thanks to thee, I have purchased an estate on the Obolla,
crowned by a pavilion erected in marble. It has a sister beside it which
is now on sale, and you have always money to bestow._
"How much," said Abu Dulaf, "is the price of that sister?"