Harun Ar-Raschid passing near Manbij with Abd Al-Malik Ibn Salih, who
was the most elegant speaker of all the surviving descendants of
Al-Abbas, observed a well-built country-seat and a garden full of trees
covered with fruit, and asked to whom that property belonged.
Abd Al-Malik replied: "To you, Commander of the Faithful! and then to
me."
This Abd Al-Malik was so famous, as a story-teller that a wise man said
of him: "When I reflect that Abd Al-Malik's tongue must sooner or later
moulder into dust, the world loses its value in my sight."
Abu 'l-Amaithal, the poet, was also a most efficient courtier. As he
kissed one day the hand of Abd Allah Ibn Tahir, that prince complained
of the roughness of the poet's moustachios, whereupon he immediately
observed that the spines of the hedgehog could not hurt the wrist of the
lion. Abd Allah was so pleased with this compliment that he ordered him
a valuable present.
Another graceful compliment. Of Ishak Ibn Ibrahim Al-Mausili, who was
famous for his voice and was a "constant companion of the khalifs in
their parties of pleasure," the khalif Al-Motasim charmingly said:
"Ishak never yet sang without my feeling as if my possessions were
increased."
Another compliment that goes still deeper. Abu Nuwas, in a lament
composed on the death of the khalif Al-Amin, said of him: _His death was
the only thing I feared, and now nothing remains for me to dread._
These, however, were but speeches. Compliments may be conveyed also by
deeds, as we find in the case of Imam Al-Haramain, who was so learned
and acceptable a teacher that, at the moment of his death, his scholars,
who were four hundred and one in number, broke their pens and inkhorns;
and they let a full year pass over before they resumed their studies. Of
these Persians we can believe in the sincerity; but the motives of
English scholars performing a similar act of renunciation might be open
to suspicion.
Badi Az-Zaman Az-Hamadani was famous for his epistolary style. Here is a
passage which, though written in Persia in the tenth century, might have
aptness in English country houses at this moment: _When water has long
remained at rest, its noxious qualities appear; and when its surface has
continued tranquil, its foulness gets into motion. Thus it is with a
guest: his presence is displeasing when his stay has been protracted,
and his shadow is oppressive when the time for which he should sojourn
is at an end. Adieu._
The khalif Ali Ibn Ali Talib was a very just man. Some one having
committed a theft was brought before him. "Bring me witnesses," said
Ali, "to prove that he purloined the object out of the saddle-bag."
Unmistakable evidence to that effect being given, Ali immediately
ordered the fingers of his hand to be cut off.
On this some person said to him: "Commander of the Faithful! why not cut
it off by the wrist?"
"God forbid!" exclaimed the khalif; "how could he then lean on his
staff? How could he pray? How could he eat?"
In the Life of Ibn Abd Al-Barr, a Traditionist of Cordova, who, "it is
stated, died in the year 380 (A.D. 990), but God knows best," a number
of good stories are collected. This is one. "It is related that, when
Adam was sent out of Paradise and down to earth by Almighty God, the
angel Gabriel went to him and said: 'O Adam! God here sends you three
qualities, so that you may select one of them for yourself and leave the
two others.'
"'What are they?' said Adam.
"Gabriel replied: 'Modesty, Piety, and Intelligence.'
"'I choose Intelligence,' said Adam.
"The angel then told Modesty and Piety to return to Heaven, because Adam
had made choice of Intelligence.
"They answered: 'We will not return.'
"'How!' said he. 'Do you mean to disobey me?'
"They replied: 'We do not, but our orders were, never to quit
Intelligence wherever she might be.'"
Another story showing how destructively effective may be the use of
fairness--politeness with the buttons off--is of an Arab who, on being
insulted copiously by a stranger, remained silent. To the question why
he did not reply, he said: "I know not the man's vices and am unwilling
to reproach him with defects he may not have."
Two other anecdotes are of the famous jester, Al-Jammaz. The first tells
how at Basra a man perceiving the new moon, which indicated the
beginning of the month of fasting, Ramadan, pointed it out eagerly to
his companions. "When the moon which indicates the end of the fast was
nearly due, Al-Jammaz knocked at the door of this too officious person
and said: 'Come! get up and take us out of the scrape into which you
brought us.'"
Al-Jammaz was delighted with the following example of his readiness.
"One rainy morning," he said, "I was asked by my wife what was best to
be done on such a day as that, and I answered: 'Divorcing a troublesome
wife.' This stopped her mouth."
Al-Mubarrad used frequently to recite these lines at his assemblies: _O
you who, in sumptuous array, strut about like princes and scorn the
hatred of the poor, know that the saddle-cloth changeth not the nature
of the ass, neither do splendid trappings change the nature of the pack
horse._
When Al-Mubarrad died a poet wrote of him: _Behold the mansion of
literature half-demolished, and destruction awaiting the remainder._
That was in 899.
To excuse himself for a want of social ceremony, Ibn Abi 's-Sakr, "an
amateur of the belles-lettres," who died in 1105, composed these verses:
_An indisposition called eighty years hinders me from rising to receive
my friends; but when they reach an advanced age, they will understand
and accept my excuse._
Old age occurs also in a poem of Al-Otbi, who died in 842: _When Sulaima
saw me turn my eyes away--and I turn my glances away from all who
resemble her--she said: "I saw thee mad with love"; and I replied:
"Youth is a madness of which old age is the cure."_ This phrase, says
Ibn Khallikan, afterwards became a proverb. Most nations have anecdotes
in which the idea occurs.
The following anecdote of the kadi Shuraih, who was famous not only for
his "great skill in distinguishing right from wrong" but also for his
humour, is very pleasing. Adi Ibn Arta, who was blind, went to the
kadi's house one day, and the following dialogue ensued:
"Where are you, kadi? May God direct you!"
"I am between you and the wall."
"Listen to me."
"I can hear very well."
"I am a native of Syria."
"It is a distant land."
"And I have married a wife from your country."
"May you live happily and have many children!"
"And I wanted to take her on a journey."
"Each man has the best right over his own family."
"But I engaged not to remove her from her native place."
"Engagements are binding."
"Judge then between us."
"I have already done so."
"And against whom have you given it?"
"Against your mother's son."
"On whose evidence?"
"On the evidence of your maternal aunt's sister's son."
I find a similar quality--not un-Johnsonian--in the reply of At-Tirmidi
the juriconsult to a question, as reported by Abu 't-Taiyib Ahmad Ibn
Othman As-Simsar. "I was," said he, "at Abu Jaafar At-Tirmidi's when a
person consulted him about the saying of the Prophet, that God descended
to the heaven of the world (i.e. the lowest of the seven heavens). This
person expressed his desire to know how there could, in that case, be
anything more exalted than the lowest heaven?
"At-Tirmidi replied: 'The descent is intelligible; the manner how is
unknown; the belief therein is obligatory; and the asking about it is a
blameable innovation.'"
The kadi Yahya Ibn Aktham, although famous for his licentiousness, was
orthodox to the marrow. It was he who said: "The _Koran_ is the word of
God, and whoever says that it has been created by man should be invited
to abandon that opinion; and if he do not, his head should be struck
off."
The following dialogue between Yahya and a man is very characteristic of
dry Persian sagacity. The man began it, thus: "May God preserve you! How
much should I eat?"
Yahya replied: "Enough to get over hunger and not enough to attain
satiety."
"How long may I laugh?"
"Till your face brightens, but without raising your voice."
"How long should I weep?"
"Weeping should never fatigue you, if it be through fear of God."
"What actions of mine should I conceal?"
"As many as you can."
"What are the actions which I should do openly?"
"Those which may serve as examples to good and virtuous men, whilst they
secure you from public reprobation."
On this the man exclaimed: "May God preserve us from words which abide
when deeds have passed away!" It is possible that there were reserves of
meaning in this final speech, for Yahya's surname Aktham signifies
either "a corpulent man" or "sated with food."
I have not borrowed much from Ibn Khallikan's heroics, but this is good.
Al-Moizz having conquered Egypt, he entered Old Cairo. His pretensions
to be a descendant of Ali had already been contested, and on his
approach the people of the city went forth to meet him, accompanied by a
band of sharifs, and Ibn Tabataba, who was one of the number, asked him
from whom he drew his descent.
To this question Al-Moizz replied: "We shall hold a sitting to which all
of you shall be convened, and there we shall expose to you the entire
chain of our genealogy."
Being at length established in the castle of Cairo, he gave a public
audience, as he had promised, and having taken his seat, he asked if any
of their chiefs were still alive?
"No," replied they, "not one of any consequence survives."
He then drew his sword half-way out of the scabbard and exclaimed: "This
is my genealogy! And here," said he, scattering a great quantity of gold
among them, "are proofs of my nobility!"
On this they all acknowledged him for their lord and master.