principal tribes of Hamdán).
[Sidenote: Nashwán b. Sa‘íd al-Ḥimyarí († 1177 A.D.).]
[Sidenote: ‘Abíd b. Sharya.]
[Sidenote: Ḥamza of Iṣfahán.]
The same intense patriotism which caused Hamdání to devote himself to
scientific research inspired Nashwán b. Sa‘íd, who descended on the
father's side from one of the ancient princely families of Yemen, to
recall the legendary past and become the laureate of a long vanished and
well-nigh forgotten empire. In 'The Ḥimyarite Ode' (_al-Qaṣìdatu
’l-Ḥimyariyya_) he sings the might and grandeur of the monarchs who
ruled over his people, and moralises in true Muḥammadan spirit upon the
fleetingness of life and the futility of human ambition.[41]
Accompanying the Ode, which has little value except as a comparatively
unfalsified record of royal names,[42] is a copious historical
commentary either by Nashwán himself, as Von Kremer thinks highly
probable, or by some one who lived about the same time. Those for whom
history represents an aggregate of naked facts would find nothing to the
purpose in this commentary, where threads of truth are almost
inextricably interwoven with fantastic and fabulous embroideries. A
literary form was first given to such legends by the professional
story-tellers of early Islam. One of these, the South Arabian ‘Abíd b.
Sharya, visited Damascus by command of the Caliph Mu‘áwiya I, who
questioned him "concerning the ancient traditions, the kings of the
Arabs and other races, the cause of the confusion of tongues, and the
history of the dispersion of mankind in the various countries of the
world,"[43] and gave orders that his answers should be put together in
writing and published under his name. This work, of which unfortunately
no copy has come down to us, was entitled 'The Book of the Kings and the
History of the Ancients' (_Kitábu ’l-Mulúk wa-akhbáru ’l-Máḍín_).
Mas‘údí († 956 A.D.) speaks of it as a well-known book, enjoying a wide
circulation.[44] It was used by the commentator of the Ḥimyarite Ode,
either at first hand or through the medium of Hamdání's _Iklíl_. We may
regard it, like the commentary itself, as a historical romance in which
most of the characters and some of the events are real, adorned with
fairy-tales, fictitious verses, and such entertaining matter as a man of
learning and story-teller by trade might naturally be expected to
introduce. Among the few remaining Muḥammadan authors who bestowed
special attention on the Pre-islamic period of South Arabian history, I
shall mention here only Ḥamza of Iṣfahán, the eighth book of whose
Annals (finished in 961 A.D.) provides a useful sketch, with brief
chronological details, of the Tubba‘s or Ḥimyarite kings of Yemen.
[Sidenote: Ya‘rub.]
[Sidenote: Ḥimyar and Kahlán.]
Qaḥṭán, the ancestor of the Southern Arabs, was succeeded by his son
Ya‘rub, who is said to have been the first to use the Arabic language,
and the first to receive the salutations with which the Arabs were
accustomed to address their kings, viz., "_In‘im ṣabáḥan_" ("Good
morning!") and "_Abayta ’l-la‘na_" ("Mayst thou avoid malediction!").
His grandson, ‘Abd Shams Saba, is named as the founder of Ma’rib and the
builder of the famous Dyke, which, according to others, was constructed
by Luqmán b. ‘Ád. Saba had two sons, Ḥimyar and Kahlán. Before his death
he deputed the sovereign authority to Ḥimyar, and the task of protecting
the frontiers and making war upon the enemy to Kahlán. Thus Ḥimyar
obtained the lordship, assumed the title Abú Ayman, and abode in the
capital city of the realm, while Kahlán took over the defence of the
borders and the conduct of war.[45] Omitting the long series of mythical
Sabæan kings, of whom the legend has little or nothing to relate, we now
come to an event which fixed itself ineffaceably in the memory of the
Arabs, and which is known in their traditions as _Saylu ’l-‘Arim_, or
the Flood of the Dyke.
[Sidenote: The Dam of Ma’rib.]
Some few miles south-west of Ma’rib the mountains draw together leaving
a gap, through which flows the River Adana. During the summer its bed is
often dry, but in the rainy season the water rushes down with such
violence that it becomes impassable. In order to protect the city from
floods, and partly also for purposes of irrigation, the inhabitants
built a dam of solid masonry, which, long after it had fallen into ruin,
struck the imagination of Muḥammad, and was reckoned by Moslems among
the wonders of the world.[46] That their historians have clothed the
bare fact of its destruction in ample robes of legendary circumstance is
not surprising, but renders abridgment necessary.[47]
[Sidenote: Its destruction announced by portents.]
Towards the end of the third century of our era, or possibly at an
earlier epoch,[48] the throne of Ma’rib was temporarily occupied by ‘Amr
b. ‘Ámir Má’ al-Samá, surnamed Muzayqiyá.[49] His wife, Ẓarífa, was
skilled in the art of divination. She dreamed dreams and saw visions
which announced the impending calamity. "Go to the Dyke," she said to
her husband, who doubted her clairvoyance, "and if thou see a rat
digging holes in the Dyke with its paws and moving huge boulders with
its hind-legs, be assured that the woe hath come upon us." So ‘Amr went
to the Dyke and looked carefully, and lo, there was a rat moving an
enormous rock which fifty men could not have rolled from its place.
Convinced by this and other prodigies that the Dyke would soon burst and
the land be laid waste, he resolved to sell his possessions and depart
with his family; and, lest conduct so extraordinary should arouse
suspicion, he had recourse to the following stratagem. He invited the
chief men of the city to a splendid feast, which, in accordance with a
preconcerted plan, was interrupted by a violent altercation between
himself and his son (or, as others relate, an orphan who had been
brought up in his house). Blows were exchanged, and ‘Amr cried out, "O
shame! on the day of my glory a stripling has insulted me and struck my
face." He swore that he would put his son to death, but the guests
entreated him to show mercy, until at last he gave way. "But by God," he
exclaimed, "I will no longer remain in a city where I have suffered this
indignity. I will sell my lands and my stock." Having successfully got
rid of his encumbrances--for there was no lack of buyers eager to take
him at his word--‘Amr informed the people of the danger with which they
were threatened, and set out from Ma’rib at the head of a great
multitude. Gradually the waters made a breach in the Dyke and swept over
the country, spreading devastation far and wide. Hence the proverb
_Dhahabú_ (or _tafarraqú_) _aydí Saba_, "They departed" (or "dispersed")
"like the people of Saba."[50]
[Sidenote: Fall of the Sabæan Empire.]
This deluge marks an epoch in the history of South Arabia. The waters
subside, the land returns to cultivation and prosperity, but Ma’rib lies
desolate, and the Sabæans have disappeared for ever, except "to point a
moral or adorn a tale." Al-A‘shá sang:--
⌣| ⌣| ⌣|
Metre _Mutaqárib_: (⌣ - -|⌣ - -|⌣ - -|⌣ -).
"Let this warn whoever a warning will take--
And Ma’rib withal, which the Dam fortified.
Of marble did Ḥimyar construct it, so high,
The waters recoiled when to reach it they tried.
It watered their acres and vineyards, and hour
By hour, did a portion among them divide.
So lived they in fortune and plenty until
Therefrom turned away by a ravaging tide.
Then wandered their princes and noblemen through
Mirage-shrouded deserts that baffle the guide."[51]
The poet's reference to Ḥimyar is not historically accurate. It was only
after the destruction of the Dyke and the dispersion of the Sabæans who
built it[52] that the Ḥimyarites, with their capital Ẓafár (at a later
period, Ṣan‘á) became the rulers of Yemen.
[Sidenote: The Tubba‘s.]
The first Tubba‘, by which name the Ḥimyarite kings are known to
Muḥammadan writers, was Ḥárith, called al-Rá’ish, _i.e._, the Featherer,
because he 'feathered' his people's nest with the booty which he brought
home as a conqueror from India and Ádharbayján.[53] Of the Tubba‘s who
come after him some obviously owe their place in the line of Ḥimyar to
genealogists whose respect for the Koran was greater than their critical
acumen. Such a man of straw is Ṣa‘b Dhu ’l-Qarnayn (Ṣa‘b the
Two-horned).
[Sidenote: Dhu ’l-Qarnayn.]
The following verses show that he is a double of the mysterious Dhu
’l-Qarnayn of Koranic legend, supposed by most commentators to be
identical with Alexander the Great[54]:--
"Ours the realm of Dhu ’l-Qarnayn the glorious,
Realm like his was never won by mortal king.
Followed he the Sun to view its setting
When it sank into the sombre ocean-spring;
Up he clomb to see it rise at morning,
From within its mansion when the East it fired;
All day long the horizons led him onward,[55]
All night through he watched the stars and never tired.
Then of iron and of liquid metal
He prepared a rampart not to be o'erpassed,
Gog and Magog there he threw in prison
Till on Judgment Day they shall awake at last."[56]
[Sidenote: Bilqís.]
Similarly, among the Tubba‘s we find the Queen of Sheba, whose
adventures with Solomon are related in the twenty-seventh chapter of the
Koran. Although Muḥammad himself did not mention her name or lineage,
his interpreters were equal to the occasion and revealed her as Bilqís,
the daughter of Sharáḥíl (Sharaḥbíl).
[Sidenote: As‘ad Kámil.]
The national hero of South Arabian legend is the Tubba‘ As‘ad Kámil, or,
as he is sometimes called, Abú Karib. Even at the present day, says Von
Kremer, his memory is kept alive, and still haunts the ruins of his
palace at Ẓafár. "No one who reads the Ballad of his Adventures or the
words of exhortation which he addressed on his deathbed to his son
Ḥassán can escape from the conviction that here we have to do with
genuine folk-poetry--fragments of a South Arabian legendary cycle, the
beginnings of which undoubtedly reach back to a high antiquity."[57] I
translate here the former of these pieces, which may be entitled
THE BALLAD OF THE THREE WITCHES.[58]
"Time brings to pass full many a wonder
Whereof the lesson thou must ponder.
Whilst all to thee seems ordered fair,
Lo, Fate hath wrought confusion there.
Against a thing foredoomed to be
Nor cunning nor caution helpeth thee.
Now a marvellous tale will I recite;
Trust me to know and tell it aright!
Once on a time was a boy of Asd
Who became the king of the land at last,
Born in Hamdán, a villager;
The name of that village was Khamir.
This lad in the pride of youth defied
His friends, and they with scorn replied.
None guessed his worth till he was grown
Ready to spring.
One morn, alone
On Hinwam hill he was sore afraid.[59]
(His people knew not where he strayed;
They had seen him only yesternight,
For his youth and wildness they held him light.
The wretches! Him they never missed
Who had been their glory had they wist).
O the fear that fell on his heart when he
Saw beside him the witches three!
The eldest came with many a brew--
In some was blood, blood-dark their hue.
'Give me the cup!' he shouted bold;
'Hold, hold!' cried she, but he would not hold.
She gave him the cup, nor he did shrink
Tho' he reeled as he drained the magic drink.
Then the second yelled at him. Her he faced
Like a lion with anger in his breast.
'These be our steeds, come mount,' she cried,
'For asses are worst of steeds to ride.'
''Tis sooth,' he answered, and slipped his flank
O'er a hyena lean and lank,
But the brute so fiercely flung him away,
With deep, deep wounds on the earth he lay.
Then came the youngest and tended him
On a soft bed, while her eyes did swim
In tears; but he averted his face
And sought a rougher resting-place:
Such paramour he deemed too base.
And him thought, in anguish lying there,
That needles underneath him were.[60]
Now when they had marked his mien so bold,
Victory in all things they foretold.
'The wars, O As‘ad, waged by thee
Shall heal mankind of misery.
Thy sword and spear the foe shall rue
When his gashes let the daylight through;
And blood shall flow on every hand
What time thou marchest from land to land.
By us be counselled: stay not within
Khamir, but go to Ẓafár and win!
To thee shall dalliance ne'er be dear,
Thy foes shall see thee before they hear.
Desire moved to encounter thee,
Noble prince, us witches three.
Not jest, but earnest on thee we tried,
And well didst thou the proof abide.'
As‘ad went home and told his folk
What he had seen, but no heed they took.
On the tenth day he set out again
And fared to Ẓafár with thoughts in his brain.
There fortune raised him to high renown:
None swifter to strike ever wore a crown.[61]
* * * * *
Thus found we the tale in memory stored,
And Almighty is the Lord.
Praise be to God who liveth aye,
The Glorious to whom all men pray!"
Legend makes As‘ad the hero of a brilliant expedition to Persia, where
he defeated the general sent against him by the Arsacids, and penetrated
to the Caspian Sea. On his way home he marched through the Ḥijáz, and
having learned that his son, whom he left behind in Medína, had been
treacherously murdered, he resolved to take a terrible vengeance on the
people of that city.
[Sidenote: As‘ad Kámil and the two Rabbins of Medína.]
[Sidenote: As‘ad Kámil at Mecca.]
[Sidenote: He seeks to establish Judaism in Yemen.]
[Sidenote: The ordeal of fire.]
"Now while the Tubba‘ was carrying on war against them, there came to
him two Jewish Rabbins of the Banú Qurayẓa, men deep in knowledge, who
when they heard that he wished to destroy the city and its people,
said to him: 'O King, forbear! Verily, if thou wilt accept nothing
save that which thou desirest, an intervention will be made betwixt
thee and the city, and we are not sure but that sudden chastisement
may befall thee.' 'Why so?' he asked. They answered: ''Tis the place
of refuge of a prophet who in the after time shall go forth from the
sacred territory of Quraysh: it shall be his abode and his home.' So
the king refrained himself, for he saw that those two had a particular
knowledge, and he was pleased with what they told him. On departing
from Medína he followed them in their religion.[62]... And he turned
his face towards Mecca, that being his way to Yemen, and when he was
between ‘Usfán and Amaj some Hudhalites came to him and said: 'O King,
shall we not guide thee to a house of ancient treasure which the kings
before thee neglected, wherein are pearls and emeralds and chrysolites
and gold and silver?' He said, 'Yea.' They said: 'It is a temple at
Mecca which those who belong to it worship and in which they pray.'
Now the Hudhalites wished to destroy him thereby, knowing that
destruction awaited the king who should seek to violate its precinct.
So on comprehending what they proposed, he sent to the two Rabbins to
ask them about the affair. They replied: 'These folk intend naught but
to destroy thee and thine army; we wot not of any house in the world
that God hath chosen for Himself, save this. If thou do that to which
they invite thee, thou and those with thee will surely perish
together.' He said: 'What then is it ye bid me do when I come there?'
They said: 'Thou wilt do as its people do--make the circuit thereof,
and magnify and honour it, and shave thy head, and humble thyself
before it, until thou go forth from its precinct.' He said: 'And what
hinders you from doing that yourselves?' 'By God,' said they, 'it is
the temple of our father Abraham, and verily it is even as we told
thee, but we are debarred therefrom by the idols which its people have
set up around it and by the blood-offerings which they make beside it;
for they are vile polytheists,' or words to the same effect. The king
perceived that their advice was good and their tale true. He ordered
the Hudhalites to approach, and cut off their hands and feet. Then he
continued his march to Mecca, where he made the circuit of the temple,
sacrificed camels, and shaved his head. According to what is told, he
stayed six days at Mecca, feasting the inhabitants with the flesh of
camels and letting them drink honey.[63]... Then he moved out with his
troops in the direction of Yemen, the two Rabbins accompanying him;
and on entering Yemen he called on his subjects to adopt the religion
which he himself had embraced, but they refused unless the question
were submitted to the ordeal of fire which at that time existed in
Yemen; for as the Yemenites say, there was in their country a fire
that gave judgment between them in their disputes: it devoured the
wrong-doer but left the injured person unscathed. The Yemenites
therefore came forward with their idols and whatever else they used as
a means of drawing nigh unto God, and the two Rabbins came forward
with their scriptures hung on their necks like necklaces, and both
parties seated themselves at the place from which the fire was wont to
issue. And the fire blazed up, and the Yemenites shrank back from it
as it approached them, and were afraid, but the bystanders urged them
on and bade them take courage. So they held out until the fire
enveloped them and consumed the idols and images and the men of
Ḥimyar, the bearers thereof; but the Rabbins came forth safe and
sound, their brows moist with sweat, and the scriptures were still
hanging on their necks. Thereupon the Ḥimyarites consented to adopt
the king's religion, and this was the cause of Judaism being
established in Yemen."[64]
[Sidenote: As‘ad's farewell to his son.]
The poem addressed to his son and successor, Ḥassán, which tradition has
put into his mouth, is a sort of last will and testament, of which the
greater part is taken up with an account of his conquests and with
glorification of his family and himself.[65] Nearly all that we find in
the way of maxims or injunctions suitable to the solemn occasion is
contained in the following verses:--
"O Ḥassán, the hour of thy father's death has arrived at last:
Look to thyself ere yet the time for looking is past.
Oft indeed are the mighty abased, and often likewise
Are the base exalted: such is Man who is born and dies.
Bid ye Ḥimyar know that standing erect would I buried be,
And have my wine-skins and Yemen robes in the tomb with me.[66]
And hearken thou to my Sibyl, for surely can she foresay
The truth, and safe in her keeping is castle Ghaymán aye.[67]
[Sidenote: The castles of Yemen.]
[Sidenote: Ghumdán.]
In connection with Ghaymán a few words may be added respecting the
castles in Yemen, of which the ruined skeletons rising from solitary
heights seem still to frown defiance upon the passing traveller. Two
thousand years ago, and probably long before, they were occupied by
powerful barons, more or less independent, who in later times, when the
Ḥimyarite Empire had begun to decline, always elected, and occasionally
deposed, their royal master. Of these castles the geographer Hamdání has
given a detailed account in the eighth book of his great work on the
history and antiquities of Yemen entitled the _Iklíl_, or 'Crown.'[68]
The oldest and most celebrated was Ghumdán, the citadel of Ṣan‘á. It is
described as a huge edifice of twenty stories, each story ten cubits
high. The four façades were built with stone of different colours,
white, black, green, and red. On the top story was a chamber which had
windows of marble framed with ebony and planewood. Its roof was a slab
of pellucid marble, so that when the lord of Ghumdán lay on his couch he
saw the birds fly overhead, and could distinguish a raven from a kite.
At each corner stood a brazen lion, and when the wind blew it entered
the hollow interior of the effigies and made a sound like the roaring of
lions.
[Sidenote: Zarqá’u ’l-Yamáma.]
The adventure of As‘ad Kámil with the three witches must have recalled
to every reader certain scenes in _Macbeth_. Curiously enough, in the
history of his son Ḥassán an incident is related which offers a striking
parallel to the march of Birnam Wood. Ṭasm and Jadís have already been
mentioned. On the massacre of the former tribe by the latter, a single
Ṭasmite named Ribáḥ b. Murra made his escape and took refuge with the
Tubba‘ Ḥassán, whom he persuaded to lead an expedition against the
murderers. Now Ribáḥ's sister had married a man of Jadís. Her name was
Zarqá’u ’l-Yamáma--_i.e._, the Blue-eyed Woman of Yamáma--and she had
such piercing sight that she was able to descry an army thirty miles
away. Ḥassán therefore bade his horsemen hold in front of them leafy
branches which they tore down from the trees. They advanced thus hidden,
and towards evening, when they had come within a day's journey, Zarqá
said to her people: "I see trees marching." No one believed her until it
was too late. Next morning Ḥassán fell upon them and put the whole tribe
to the sword.
[Sidenote: Ḥassán murdered by his brother.]
[Sidenote: Dhú Ru‘ayn.]
The warlike expeditions to which Ḥassán devoted all his energy were felt
as an intolerable burden by the chiefs of Ḥimyar, who formed a plot to
slay him and set his brother ‘Amr on the throne. ‘Amr was at first
unwilling to lend himself to their designs, but ultimately his scruples
were overcome, and he stabbed the Tubba‘ with his own hand. The assassin
suffered a terrible punishment. Sleep deserted him, and in his remorse
he began to execute the conspirators one after another. There was,
however, a single chief called Dhú Ru‘ayn, who had remained loyal and
had done his best to save ‘Amr from the guilt of fratricide. Finding his
efforts fruitless, he requested ‘Amr to take charge of a sealed paper
which he brought with him, and to keep it in a safe place until he
should ask for it. ‘Amr consented and thought no more of the matter.
Afterwards, imagining that Dhú Ru‘ayn had joined in the fatal plot, he
gave orders for his execution. "How!" exclaimed Dhú Ru‘ayn, "did not I
tell thee what the crime involved?" and he asked for the sealed writing,
which was found to contain these verses--
"O fool to barter sleep for waking! Blest
Is he alone whose eyelids close in rest.
Hath Ḥimyar practised treason, yet 'tis plain
That God forgiveness owes to Dhú Ru‘ayn.[69]"
On reading this, ‘Amr recognised that Dhú Ru‘ayn had spoken the truth,
and he spared his life.
[Sidenote: Dhú Nuwás.]
[Sidenote: Massacre of the Christians in Najrán (523 A.D.).]
[Sidenote: Death of Dhú Nuwás.]
With ‘Amr the Tubba‘ dynasty comes to an end. The succeeding kings were
elected by eight of the most powerful barons, who in reality were
independent princes, each ruling in his strong castle over as many
vassals and retainers as he could bring into subjection. During this
period the Abyssinians conquered at least some part of the country, and
Christian viceroys were sent by the Najáshí (Negus) to govern it in his
name. At last Dhú Nuwás, a descendant of the Tubba‘ As‘ad Kámil, crushed
the rebellious barons and made himself unquestioned monarch of Yemen. A
fanatical adherent of Judaism, he resolved to stamp out Christianity in
Najrán, where it is said to have been introduced from Syria by a holy
man called Faymiyún (Phemion). The Ḥimyarites flocked to his standard,
not so much from religious motives as from hatred of the Abyssinians.
The pretended murder of two Jewish children gave Dhú Nuwás a plausible
_casus belli_. He marched against Najrán with an overwhelming force,
entered the city, and bade the inhabitants choose between Judaism and
death. Many perished by the sword; the rest were thrown into a trench
which the king ordered to be dug and filled with blazing fire. Nearly a
hundred years later, when Muḥammad was being sorely persecuted, he
consoled and encouraged his followers by the example of the Christians
of Najrán, who suffered "_for no other reason but that they believed in
the mighty, the glorious God_."[70] Dhú Nuwás paid dearly for his
triumph. Daws Dhú Tha‘labán, one of those who escaped from the massacre,
fled to the Byzantine emperor and implored him, as the head of
Christendom, to assist them in obtaining vengeance. Justinus accordingly
wrote a letter to the Najáshí, desiring him to take action, and ere long
an Abyssinian army, 70,000 strong, under the command of Aryáṭ,
disembarked in Yemen. Dhú Nuwás could not count on the loyalty of the
Ḥimyarite nobles; his troops melted away. "When he saw the fate that had
befallen himself and his people, he turned to the sea and setting spurs
to his horse, rode through the shallows until he reached the deep water.
Then he plunged into the waves and nothing more of him was seen."[71]
Thus died, or thus at any rate should have died, the last representative
of the long line of Ḥimyarite kings. Henceforth Yemen appears in
Pre-islamic history only as an Abyssinian dependency or as a Persian
protectorate. The events now to be related form the prologue to a new
drama in which South Arabia, so far from being the centre of interest,
plays an almost insignificant rôle.[72]
[Sidenote: Yemen under Abyssinian rule.]
[Sidenote: Abraha and Aryáṭ.]
[Sidenote: Abraha viceroy of Yemen.]
On the death of Dhú Nuwás, the Abyssinian general Aryáṭ continued
his march through Yemen. He slaughtered a third part of the males,
laid waste a third part of the land, and sent a third part of the
women and children to the Najáshí as slaves. Having reduced the
Yemenites to submission and re-established order, he held the
position of viceroy for several years. Then mutiny broke out in the
Abyssinian army of occupation, and his authority was disputed by an
officer, named Abraha. When the rivals faced each other, Abraha said
to Aryáṭ: "What will it avail you to engage the Abyssinians in a
civil war that will leave none of them alive? Fight it out with me,
and let the troops follow the victor." His challenge being accepted,
Abraha stepped forth. He was a short, fleshy man, compactly built, a
devout Christian, while Aryáṭ was big, tall, and handsome. When
the duel began, Aryáṭ thrust his spear with the intention of
piercing Abraha's brain, but it glanced off his forehead, slitting
his eyelid, nose, and lip--hence the name, _al-Ashram_, by which
Abraha was afterwards known; and ere he could repeat the blow, a
youth in Abraha's service, called ‘Atwada, who was seated on a
hillock behind his master, sprang forward and dealt him a mortal
wound. Thus Abraha found himself commander-in-chief of the
Abyssinian army, but the Najáshí was enraged and swore not to rest
until he set foot on the soil of Yemen and cut off the rebel's
forelock. On hearing this, Abraha wrote to the Najáshí: "O King,
Aryáṭ was thy servant even as I am. We quarrelled over thy
command, both of us owing allegiance to thee, but I had more
strength than he to command the Abyssinians and keep discipline and
exert authority. When I heard of the king's oath, I shore my head,
and now I send him a sack of the earth of Yemen that he may put it
under his feet and fulfil his oath." The Najáshí answered this act
of submission by appointing Abraha to be his viceroy.... Then Abraha
built the church (_al-Qalís_) at San‘á, the like of which was not to
be seen at that time in the whole world, and wrote to the Najáshí
that he would not be content until he had diverted thither every
pilgrim in Arabia. This letter made much talk, and a man of the Banú
Fuqaym, one of those who arranged the calendar, was angered by what
he learned of Abraha's purpose; so he went into the church and
defiled it. When Abraha heard that the author of the outrage
belonged to the people of the Temple in Mecca, and that he meant to
show thereby his scorn and contempt for the new foundation, he waxed
wroth and swore that he would march against the Temple and lay it in
ruins.
[Sidenote: Sayf b. Dhí Yazan.]
[Sidenote: The Persians in Yemen (_circa_ 572 A.D.).]
The disastrous failure of this expedition, which took place in the year
of the Elephant (570 A.D.), did not at once free Yemen from the
Abyssinian yoke. The sons of Abraha, Yaksum and Masrúq, bore heavily on
the Arabs. Seeing no help among his own people, a noble Ḥimyarite named
Sayf b. Dhí Yazan resolved to seek foreign intervention. His choice lay
between the Byzantine and Persian empires, and he first betook himself
to Constantinople. Disappointed there, he induced the Arab king of Ḥíra,
who was under Persian suzerainty, to present him at the court of Madá’in
(Ctesiphon). How he won audience of the Sásánian monarch, Núshírwán,
surnamed the Just, and tempted him by an ingenious trick to raise a
force of eight hundred condemned felons, who were set free and shipped
to Yemen under the command of an aged general; how they literally
'burned their boats' and, drawing courage from despair, routed the
Abyssinian host and made Yemen a satrapy of Persia[73]--this forms an
almost epic narrative, which I have omitted here (apart from
considerations of space) because it belongs to Persian rather than to
Arabian literary history, being probably based, as Nöldeke has
suggested, on traditions handed down by the Persian conquerors who
settled in Yemen to their aristocratic descendants whom the Arabs called
_al-Abná_ (the Sons) or _Banu ’l-Aḥrár_ (Sons of the Noble).
Leaving the once mighty kingdom of Yemen thus pitiably and for ever
fallen from its high estate, we turn northward into the main stream of
Arabian history.
CHAPTER II
THE HISTORY AND LEGENDS OF THE PAGAN ARABS
[Sidenote: The Age of Barbarism (al-Jáhiliyya).]
Muḥammadans include the whole period of Arabian history from the
earliest times down to the establishment of Islam in the term
_al-Jáhiliyya_, which was used by Muḥammad in four passages of the Koran
and is generally translated 'the state or ignorance' or simply 'the
Ignorance.' Goldziher, however, has shown conclusively that the meaning
attached to _jahl_ (whence _Jáhiliyya_ is derived) by the Pre-islamic
poets is not so much 'ignorance' as 'wildness,' 'savagery,' and that its
true antithesis is not _‘ilm_ (knowledge), but rather _ḥilm_, which
denotes the moral reasonableness of a civilised man. "When Muḥammadans
say that Islam put an end to the manners and customs of the _Jáhiliyya_,
they have in view those barbarous practices, that savage temper, by
which Arabian heathendom is distinguished from Islam and by the
abolition of which Muḥammad sought to work a moral reformation in his
countrymen: the haughty spirit of the _Jáhiliyya_ (_ḥamiyyatu
’l-Jáhiliyya_), the tribal pride and the endless tribal feuds, the cult
of revenge, the implacability and all the other pagan characteristics
which Islam was destined to overcome."[74]
Our sources of information regarding this period may be classified as
follows:--
[Sidenote: Sources of information concerning the Jáhiliyya.]
(1) _Poems and fragments of verse_, which though not written down at the
time were preserved by oral tradition and committed to writing, for the
most part, two or three hundred years afterwards. The importance of
this, virtually the sole contemporary record of Pre-islamic history, is
recognised in the well-known saying, "Poetry is the public register of
the Arabs (_al-shi‘ru díwánu ’l-‘Arab_); thereby genealogies are kept in
mind and famous actions are made familiar." Some account of the chief
collections of old Arabian poetry will be given in the next chapter.
(2) _Proverbs._ These are of less value, as they seldom explain
themselves, while the commentary attached to them is the work of
scholars bent on explaining them at all costs, though in many cases
their true meaning could only be conjectured and the circumstances of
their origin had been entirely forgotten. Notwithstanding this very
pardonable excess of zeal, we could ill afford to lose the celebrated
collections of Mufaḍḍal b. Salama († _circa_ 900 A.D.) and Maydání (†
1124 A.D.),[75] which contain so much curious information throwing light
on every aspect of Pre-islamic life.
[Sidenote: _The Book of Songs._]
(3) _Traditions and legends._ Since the art of writing was neither
understood nor practised by the heathen Arabs in general, it was
impossible that Prose, as a literary form, should exist among them. The
germs of Arabic Prose, however, may be traced back to the _Jáhiliyya_.
Besides the proverb (_mathal_) and the oration (_khuṭba_) we find
elements of history and romance in the prose narratives used by the
rhapsodists to introduce and set forth plainly the matter of their
songs, and in the legends which recounted the glorious deeds of tribes
and individuals. A vast number of such stories--some unmistakably
genuine, others bearing the stamp of fiction--are preserved in various
literary, historical, and geographical works composed under the ‘Abbásid
Caliphate, especially in the _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_ (Book of Songs) by Abu
’l-Faraj of Iṣfahán († 967 A.D.), an invaluable compilation based on the
researches of the great Humanists as they have been well named by Sir
Charles Lyall, of the second and third centuries after the Hijra.[76]
The original writings of these early critics and scholars have perished
almost without exception, and beyond the copious citations in the
_Aghání_ we possess hardly any specimens of their work. "The _Book of
Songs_," says Ibn Khaldún, "is the Register of the Arabs. It comprises
all that they had achieved in the past of excellence in every kind of
poetry, history, music, _et cetera_. So far as I am aware, no other book
can be put on a level with it in this respect. It is the final resource
of the student of belles-lettres, and leaves him nothing further to
desire."[77]
[Sidenote: Scope of this chapter.]
In the following pages I shall not attempt to set in due order and
connection the confused mass of poetry and legend in which all that we
know of Pre-islamic Arabia lies deeply embedded. This task has already
been performed with admirable skill by Caussin de Perceval in his _Essai
sur l'histoire des Arabes avant l'Islamisme_,[78] and it could serve no
useful purpose to inflict a dry summary of that famous work upon the
reader. The better course, I think, will be to select a few typical and
outstanding features of the time and to present them, wherever possible,
as they have been drawn--largely from imagination--by the Arabs
themselves. If the Arabian traditions are wanting in historical accuracy
they are nevertheless, taken as a whole, true in spirit to the Dark Age
which they call up from the dead and reverently unfold beneath our eyes.
[Sidenote: The Arab dynasties of Ḥíra and Ghassán.]
[Sidenote: Odenathus and Zenobia.]
About the middle of the third century of our era Arabia was enclosed on
the north and north-east by the rival empires of Rome and Persia, to
which the Syrian desert, stretching right across the peninsula, formed a
natural termination. In order to protect themselves from Bedouin
raiders, who poured over the frontier-provinces, and after laying hands
on all the booty within reach vanished as suddenly as they came, both
Powers found it necessary to plant a line of garrisons along the edge of
the wilderness. Thus the tribesmen were partially held in check, but as
force alone seemed an expensive and inefficient remedy it was decided,
in accordance with the well-proved maxim, _divide et impera_, to enlist
a number of the offending tribes in the Imperial service. Regular pay
and the prospect of unlimited plunder--for in those days Rome and Persia
were almost perpetually at war--were inducements that no true Bedouin
could resist. They fought, however, as free allies under their own
chiefs or phylarchs. In this way two Arabian dynasties sprang up--the
Ghassánids in Syria and the Lakhmites at Ḥíra, west of the
Euphrates--military buffer-states, always ready to collide even when
they were not urged on by the suzerain powers behind them. The Arabs
soon showed what they were capable of when trained and disciplined in
arms. On the defeat of Valerian by the Chosroes Sábúr I, an Arab
chieftain in Palmyra, named Udhayna (Odenathus), marched at the head of
a strong force against the conqueror, drove him out of Syria, and
pursued him up to the very walls of Madá’in, the Persian capital (265
A.D.). His brilliant exploits were duly rewarded by the Emperor
Gallienus, who bestowed on him the title of Augustus. He was, in fact,
the acknowledged master of the Roman legions in the East when, a year
later, he was treacherously murdered. He found a worthy successor in his
wife, the noble and ambitious Zenobia, who set herself the task of
building up a great Oriental Empire. She fared, however, no better than
did Cleopatra in a like enterprise. For a moment the issue was doubtful,
but Aurelian triumphed and the proud 'Queen of the East' was led a
captive before his chariot through the streets of Rome (274 A.D.).
These events were not forgotten by the Arabs. It flattered their
national pride to recall that once, at any rate, Roman armies had
marched under the flag of an Arabian princess. But the legend, as told
in their traditions, has little in common with reality. Not only are
names and places freely altered--Zenobia herself being confused with her
Syrian general, Zabdai--but the historical setting, though dimly visible
in the background, has been distorted almost beyond recognition: what
remains is one of those romantic adventures which delighted the Arabs of
the _Jáhiliyya_, just as their modern descendants are never tired of
listening to the _Story of ‘Antar_ or to the _Thousand Nights and a
Night_.
[Sidenote: Málik the Azdite.]
[Sidenote: Jadhíma al-Abrash.]
The first king of the Arab settlers in ‘Iráq (Babylonia)[79] is said to
have been Málik the Azdite, who was accidentally shot with an arrow by
his son, Sulayma. Before he expired he uttered a verse which has become
proverbial:--
_U‘allimuhu ’l-rimáyata kulla yawmin
falamma ’stadda sá‘iduhú ramání._
"I taught him every day the bowman's art,
And when his arm took aim, he pierced my heart."
Málik's kingdom, if it can properly be described as such, was
consolidated and organised by his son, Jadhíma, surnamed al-Abrash (the
Speckled)--a polite euphemism for al-Abraṣ (the Leprous). He reigned as
the vassal of Ardashír Bábakán, the founder (226 A.D.) of the Sásánian
dynasty in Persia, which thereafter continued to dominate the Arabs of
‘Iráq during the whole Pre-islamic period. Jadhíma is the hero of many
fables and proverbs. His pride, it is said, was so overweening that he
would suffer no boon-companions except two stars called _al-Farqadán_,
and when he drank wine he used to pour out a cup for each of them. He
had a page, ‘Adí b. Naṣr, with whom his sister fell in love; and in a
moment of intoxication he gave his consent to their marriage. Next
morning, furious at the trick which had been played upon him, he
beheaded the unlucky bridegroom and reviled his sister for having
married a slave. Nevertheless, when a son was born, Jadhíma adopted the
boy, and as he grew up regarded him with the utmost affection. One day
the youthful ‘Amr suddenly disappeared. For a long time no trace of him
could be found, but at last he was discovered, running wild and naked,
by two brothers, Málik and ‘Aqíl, who cared for him and clothed him and
presented him to the king. Overjoyed at the sight, Jadhíma promised to
grant them whatever they asked. They chose the honour, which no mortal
had hitherto obtained, of being his boon-companions, and by this title
(_nadmáná Jadhíma_) they are known to fame.
[Sidenote: The story of Zabbá.]
Jadhíma was a wise and warlike prince. In one of his expeditions he
defeated and slew ‘Amr b. Ẓarib b. Ḥassán b. Udhayna, an Arab chieftain
who had brought part of Eastern Syria and Mesopotamia under his sway,
and who, as the name Udhayna indicates, is probably identical with
Odenathus, the husband of Zenobia. This opinion is confirmed by the
statement of Ibn Qutayba that "Jadhíma sought in marriage Zabbá, the
daughter of the King of Mesopotamia, who became queen after her
_husband_."[80]--According to the view generally held by Muḥammadan
authors Zabbá[81] was the daughter of ‘Amr b. Ẓarib and was elected to
succeed him when he fell in battle. However this may be, she proved
herself a woman of extraordinary courage and resolution. As a safeguard
against attack she built two strong castles on either bank of the
Euphrates and connected them by a subterranean tunnel; she made one
fortress her own residence, while her sister, Zaynab, occupied the
other.
Having thus secured her position she determined to take vengeance on
Jadhíma. She wrote to him that the sceptre was slipping from her
feeble grasp, that she found no man worthy of her except himself,
that she desired to unite her kingdom with his by marriage, and
begged him to come and see her. Jadhíma needed no urging. Deaf to
the warnings of his friend and counsellor, Qaṣír, he started from
Baqqa, a castle on the Euphrates. When they had travelled some
distance, Qaṣír implored him to return. "No," said Jadhíma, "the
affair was decided at Baqqa"--words which passed into a proverb. On
approaching their destination the king saw with alarm squadrons of
cavalry between him and the city, and said to Qaṣír, "What is the
prudent course?" "You left prudence at Baqqa," he replied; "if the
cavalry advance and salute you as king and then retire in front of
you, the woman is sincere, but if they cover your flanks and
encompass you, they mean treachery. Mount al-‘Aṣá"--Jadhíma's
favourite mare--"for she cannot be overtaken or outpaced, and rejoin
your troops while there is yet time." Jadhíma refused to follow this
advice. Presently he was surrounded by the cavalry and captured.
Qaṣír, however, sprang on the mare's back and galloped thirty miles
without drawing rein.
When Jadhíma was brought to Zabbá she seated him on a skin of
leather and ordered her maidens to open the veins in his arm, so
that his blood should flow into a golden bowl. "O Jadhíma," said
she, "let not a single drop be lost. I want it as a cure for
madness." The dying man suddenly moved his arm and sprinkled with
his blood one of the marble pillars of the hall--an evil portent for
Zabbá, inasmuch as it had been prophesied by a certain soothsayer
that unless every drop of the king's blood entered the bowl, his
murder would be avenged.
Now Qaṣír came to ‘Amr b. ‘Adí, Jadhíma's nephew and son by
adoption, who has been mentioned above, and engaged to win over the
army to his side if he would take vengeance on Zabbá. "But how?"
cried ‘Amr; "for she is more inaccessible than the eagle of the
air." "Only help me," said Qaṣír, "and you will be clear of
blame." He cut off his nose and ears and betook himself to Zabbá,
pretending that he had been mutilated by ‘Amr. The queen believed
what she saw, welcomed him, and gave him money to trade on her
behalf. Qaṣír hastened to the palace of ‘Amr at Ḥíra, and,
having obtained permission to ransack the royal treasury, he
returned laden with riches. Thus he gradually crept into the
confidence of Zabbá, until one day he said to her: "It behoves every
king and queen to provide themselves with a secret passage wherein
to take refuge in case of danger." Zabbá answered: "I have already
done so," and showed him the tunnel which she had constructed
underneath the Euphrates. His project was now ripe for execution.
With the help of ‘Amr he fitted out a caravan of a thousand camels,
each carrying two armed men concealed in sacks. When they drew near
the city of Zabbá, Qaṣír left them and rode forward to announce
their arrival to the queen, who from the walls of her capital viewed
the long train of heavily burdened camels and marvelled at the slow
pace with which they advanced. As the last camel passed through the
gates of the city the janitor pricked one of the sacks with an
ox-goad which he had with him, and hearing a cry of pain, exclaimed,
"By God, there's mischief in the sacks!" But it was too late. ‘Amr
and his men threw themselves upon the garrison and put them to the
sword. Zabbá sought to escape by the tunnel, but Qaṣír stood
barring the exit on the further side of the stream. She hurried
back, and there was ‘Amr facing her. Resolved that her enemy should
not taste the sweetness of vengeance, she sucked her seal-ring,
which contained a deadly poison, crying, "By my own hand, not by
‘Amr's!"[82]
In the kingdoms of Ḥíra and Ghassán Pre-islamic culture attained its
highest development, and from these centres it diffused itself and made
its influence felt throughout Arabia. Some account, therefore, of their
history and of the circumstances which enabled them to assume a
civilising rôle will not be superfluous.[83]
[Sidenote: The foundation of Ḥíra.]
About the beginning of the third century after Christ a number of
Bedouin tribes, wholly or partly of Yemenite origin, who had formed a
confederacy and called themselves collectively Tanúkh, took advantage of
the disorder then prevailing in the Arsacid Empire to invade ‘Iráq
(Babylonia) and plant their settlements in the fertile country west of
the Euphrates. While part of the intruders continued to lead a nomad
life, others engaged in agriculture, and in course of time villages and
towns grew up. The most important of these was Ḥíra (properly,
al-Ḥíra, _i.e._, the Camp), which occupied a favourable and healthy
situation a few miles to the south of Kúfa, in the neighbourhood of
ancient Babylon.[84] According to Hishám b. Muḥammad al-Kalbí († 819
or 821 A.D.), an excellent authority for the history of the Pre-islamic
period, the inhabitants of Ḥíra during the reign of Ardashír Bábakán,
the first Sásánian king of Persia (226-241 A.D.), consisted of three
classes, viz.:--
(1) The _Tanúkh_, who dwelt west of the Euphrates between Ḥíra and
Anbár in tents of camel's hair.
(2) The _‘Ibád_, who lived in houses in Ḥíra.
(3) The _Aḥláf_ (Clients), who did not belong to either of the
above-mentioned classes, but attached themselves to the people of
Ḥíra and lived among them--blood-guilty fugitives pursued by the
vengeance of their own kin, or needy emigrants seeking to mend their
fortunes.
[Sidenote: The ‘Ibád.]
Naturally the townsmen proper formed by far the most influential element
in the population. Hishám, as we have seen, calls them 'the ‘Ibád.' His
use of this term, however, is not strictly accurate. The ‘Ibád are
exclusively the _Christian Arabs of Ḥíra_, and are so called in
virtue of their Christianity; the pagan Arabs, who at the time when
Ḥíra was founded and for long afterwards constituted the bulk of the
citizens, were never comprised in a designation which expresses the very
opposite of paganism. _‘Ibád_ means 'servants,' _i.e._, those who serve
God or Christ. It cannot be determined at what epoch the name was first
used to distinguish the religious community, composed of members of
different tribes, which was dominant in Ḥíra during the sixth
century. Dates are comparatively of little importance; what is really
remarkable is the existence in Pre-islamic times of an Arabian community
that was not based on blood-relationship or descent from a common
ancestor, but on a spiritual principle, namely, the profession of a
common faith. The religion and culture of the ‘Ibád were conveyed by
various channels to the inmost recesses of the peninsula, as will be
shown more fully in a subsequent chapter. They were the schoolmasters of
the heathen Arabs, who could seldom read or write, and who, it must be
owned, so far from desiring to receive instruction, rather gloried in
their ignorance of accomplishments which they regarded as servile.
Nevertheless, the best minds among the Bedouins were irresistibly
attracted to Ḥíra. Poets in those days found favour with princes. A
great number of Pre-islamic bards visited the Lakhmite court, while
some, like Nábigha and ‘Abíd b. al-Abraṣ, made it their permanent
residence.
[Sidenote: The Lakhmites.]
[Sidenote: Nu‘mán I. (_circa_ 400 A.D.).]
[Sidenote: The Castle of Khawarnaq.]
[Sidenote: Nu‘mán becomes an anchorite.]
It is unnecessary to enter into the vexed question as to the origin and
rise of the Lakhmite dynasty at Ḥíra. According to Hishám b.
Muḥammad al-Kalbi, who gives a list of twenty kings, covering a
period of 522 years and eight months, the first Lakhmite ruler was ‘Amr
b. ‘Adí b. Naṣr b. Rabí‘a b. Lakhm, the same who was adopted by
Jadhíma, and afterwards avenged his death on Queen Zabbá. Almost nothing
is known of his successors until we come to Nu‘mán I, surnamed al-A‘war
(the One-eyed), whose reign falls in the first quarter of the fifth
century. Nu‘mán is renowned in legend as the builder of Khawarnaq, a
famous castle near Ḥíra. It was built at the instance of the Sásánian
king, Yazdigird I, who desired a salubrious residence for his son,
Prince Bahrám Gór. On its completion, Nu‘mán ordered the architect, a
'Roman' (_i.e._, Byzantine subject) named Sinimmár, to be cast headlong
from the battlements, either on account of his boast that he could have
constructed a yet more wonderful edifice "which should turn round with
the sun," or for fear that he might reveal the position of a certain
stone, the removal of which would cause the whole building to collapse.
One spring day (so the story is told) Nu‘mán sat with his Vizier in
Khawarnaq, which overlooked the Fen-land (al-Najaf), with its
neighbouring gardens and plantations of palm-trees and canals, to the
west, and the Euphrates to the east. Charmed by the beauty of the
prospect, he exclaimed, "Hast thou ever seen the like of this?" "No,"
replied the Vizier, "if it would but last." "And what is lasting?" asked
Nu‘mán. "That which is with God in heaven." "How can one attain to it?"
"By renouncing the world and serving God, and striving after that which
He hath." Nu‘mán, it is said, immediately resolved to abandon his
kingdom; on the same night he clad himself in sackcloth, stole away
unperceived, and became a wandering devotee (_sá’iḥ_). This legend
seems to have grown out of the following verses by ‘Adí b. Zayd, the
‘Ibádite:--
"Consider thou Khawarnaq's lord--and oft
Of heavenly guidance cometh vision clear--
Who once, rejoicing in his ample realm,
Surveyed the broad Euphrates, and Sadír;[85]
Then sudden terror struck his heart: he cried,
'Shall Man, who deathward goes, find pleasure here?'
They reigned, they prospered; yet, their glory past,
In yonder tombs they lie this many a year.
At last they were like unto withered leaves
Whirled by the winds away in wild career."[86]
The opinion of most Arabian authors, that Nu‘mán embraced Christianity,
is probably unfounded, but there is reason to believe that he was well
disposed towards it, and that his Christian subjects--a Bishop of
Ḥíra is mentioned as early as 410 A.D.--enjoyed complete religious
liberty.
[Sidenote: Mundhir I.]
[Sidenote: Mundhir III, b. Má’ al-samá.]
[Sidenote: Rise of Kinda.]
[Sidenote: Mazdak.]
[Sidenote: Mundhir expelled from Ḥíra by Ḥárith of Kinda.]
[Sidenote: Death of Mundhir III.]
[Sidenote: Mundhir's "Good Day and Evil Day."]
[Sidenote: Ḥanẓala and Sharík.]
Nu‘mán's place was filled by his son Mundhir, an able and energetic
prince. The power of the Lakhmites at this time may be inferred from the
fact that on the death of Yazdigird I Mundhir forcibly intervened in the
dispute as to the Persian succession and procured the election of Bahrám
Gór, whose claims had previously been rejected by the priesthood.[87] In
the war which broke out shortly afterwards between Persia and Rome,
Mundhir proved himself a loyal vassal, but was defeated by the Romans
with great loss (421 A.D.). Passing over several obscure reigns, we
arrive at the beginning of the sixth century, when another Mundhir, the
third and most illustrious of his name, ascended the throne. This is he
whom the Arabs called Mundhir b. Má’ al-samá.[88] He had a long and
brilliant reign, which, however, was temporarily clouded by an event
that cannot be understood without some reference to the general history
of the period. About 480 A.D. the powerful tribe of Kinda, whose princes
appear to have held much the same position under the Tubba‘s of Yemen as
the Lakhmites under the Persian monarchs, had extended their sway over
the greater part of Central and Northern Arabia. The moving spirit in
this conquest was Ḥujr, surnamed Akilu ’l-Murár, an ancestor of the
poet Imru’u ’l-Qays. On his death the Kindite confederacy was broken up,
but towards the year 500 it was re-established for a brief space by his
grandson, Ḥárith b. ‘Amr, and became a formidable rival to the
kingdoms of Ghassán and Ḥíra. Meanwhile, in Persia, the communistic
doctrines of Mazdak had obtained wide popularity among the lower
classes, and were finally adopted by King Kawádh himself.[89] Now, it is
certain that at some date between 505 and 529 Ḥárith b. ‘Amr, the
Kindite, invaded ‘Iráq, and drove Mundhir out of his kingdom; and it
seems not impossible that, as many historians assert, the latter's
downfall was due to his anti-Mazdakite opinions, which would naturally
excite the displeasure of his suzerain. At any rate, whatever the causes
may have been, Mundhir was temporarily supplanted by Ḥárith, and
although he was restored after a short interval, before the accession of
Anúshirwán, who, as Crown Prince, carried out a wholesale massacre of
the followers of Mazdak (528 A.D.), the humiliation which he had
suffered and cruelly avenged was not soon forgotten;[90] the life and
poems of Imru’u ’l-Qays bear witness to the hereditary hatred subsisting
between Lakhm and Kinda. Mundhir's operations against the Romans were
conducted with extraordinary vigour; he devastated Syria as far as
Antioch, and Justinian saw himself obliged to entrust the defence of
these provinces to the Ghassánid Ḥárith b. Jabala (Ḥárith
al-A‘raj), in whom Mundhir at last found more than his match. From this
time onward the kings of Ḥíra and Ghassán are continually raiding and
plundering each other's territory. In one of his expeditions Mundhir
captured a son of Ḥárith, and "immediately sacrificed him to
Aphrodite"--_i.e._, to the Arabian goddess al-‘Uzzá;[91]--but on taking
the field again in 554 he was surprised and slain by stratagem in a
battle which is known proverbially as 'The Day of Ḥalíma.'[92] On the
whole, the Lakhmites were a heathen and barbarous race, and these
epithets are richly deserved by Mundhir III. It is related in the
_Aghání_ that he had two boon-companions, Khálid b. al-Muḍallil and
‘Amr b. Mas‘úd, with whom he used to carouse; and once, being irritated
by words spoken in wine, he gave orders that they should be buried
alive. Next morning he did not recollect what had passed and inquired as
usual for his friends. On learning the truth he was filled with remorse.
He caused two obelisks to be erected over their graves, and two days in
every year he would come and sit beside these obelisks, which were
called _al-Ghariyyán_--_i.e._, the Blood-smeared. One day was the Day of
Good (_yawmu na‘imin_), and whoever first encountered him on that day
received a hundred black camels. The other day was the Day of Evil
(_yawmu bu’sin_), on which he would present the first-comer with the
head of a black polecat (_ẓaribán_), then sacrifice him and smear the
obelisks with his blood.[93] The poet ‘Abíd b. al-Abraṣ is said to
have fallen a victim to this horrible rite. It continued until the doom
fell upon a certain Ḥanẓala of Ṭayyi’, who was granted a year's
grace in order to regulate his affairs, on condition that he should find
a surety. He appealed to one of Mundhir's suite, Sharík b. ‘Amr, who
straightway rose and said to the king, "My hand for his and my blood for
his if he fail to return at the time appointed." When the day came
Ḥanẓala did not appear, and Mundhir was about to sacrifice Sharík,
whose mourning-woman had already begun to chant the dirge. Suddenly a
rider was seen approaching, wrapped in a shroud and perfumed for burial.
A mourning-woman accompanied him. It was Ḥanẓala. Mundhir
marvelled at their loyalty, dismissed them with marks of honour, and
abolished the custom which he had instituted.[94]
[Sidenote: ‘Amr B. Hind (554-569 A.D.).]
He was succeeded by his son ‘Amr, who is known to contemporary poets and
later historians as ‘Amr, son of Hind.[95] During his reign Ḥíra
became an important literary centre. Most of the famous poets then
living visited his court; we shall see in the next chapter what
relations he had with Ṭarafa, ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, and Ḥárith b.
Ḥilliza. He was a morose, passionate, and tyrannical man. The Arabs
stood in great awe of him, but vented their spite none the less. "At
Ḥíra," said Daháb al-‘Ijlí, "there are mosquitoes and fever and lions
and ‘Amr b. Hind, who acts unjustly and wrongfully."[96] He was slain by
the chief of Taghlib, ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, in vengeance for an insult
offered to his mother, Laylá.
[Sidenote: Nu‘mán Abú Qábús.]
[Sidenote: ‘Adí b. Zayd.]
It is sufficient to mention the names of Qábús and Mundhir IV, both of
whom were sons of Hind, and occupied the throne for short periods. We
now come to the last Lakhmite king of Ḥíra, and by far the most
celebrated in tradition, Nu‘mán III, son of Mundhir IV, with the _kunya_
(name of honour) Abú Qábús, who reigned from 580 to 602 or from 585 to
607. He was brought up and educated by a noble Christian family in
Ḥíra, the head of which was Zayd b. Ḥammád, father of the poet
‘Adí b. Zayd. ‘Adí is such an interesting figure, and his fortunes were
so closely and tragically linked with those of Nu‘mán, that some account
of his life and character will be acceptable. Both his father and
grandfather were men of unusual culture, who held high posts in the
civil administration under Mundhir III and his successors. Zayd,
moreover, through the good offices of a _dihqán_, or Persian landed
proprietor, Farrukh-máhán by name, obtained from Khusraw Anúshirwán an
important and confidential appointment--that of Postmaster--ordinarily
reserved for the sons of satraps.[97] When ‘Adí grew up, his father sent
him to be educated with the son of the _dihqán_. He learned to write and
speak Persian with complete facility and Arabic with the utmost
elegance; he versified, and his accomplishments included archery,
horsemanship, and polo. At the Persian court his personal beauty, wit,
and readiness in reply so impressed Anúshirwán that he took him into his
service as secretary and interpreter--Arabic had never before been
written in the Imperial Chancery--and accorded him all the privileges of
a favourite. He was entrusted with a mission to Constantinople, where he
was honourably received; and on his departure the Qayṣar,[98]
following an excellent custom, instructed the officials in charge of the
post-routes to provide horses and every convenience in order that the
ambassador might see for himself the extent and resources of the
Byzantine Empire. ‘Adí passed some time in Syria, especially at
Damascus, where his first poem is said to have appeared. On his father's
death, which happened about this time, he renounced the splendid
position at Ḥíra which he might have had for the asking, and gave
himself up to hunting and to all kinds of amusement and pleasure, only
visiting Madá’in (Ctesiphon) at intervals to perform his secretarial
duties. While staying at Ḥíra he fell in love with Nu‘mán's daughter
Hind, who was then eleven years old. The story as told in the _Book of
Songs_ is too curious to be entirely omitted, though want of space
prevents me from giving it in full.[99]
[Sidenote: ‘Adí meets the Princess Hind in church.]
[Sidenote: His marriage to Hind.]
It is related that Hind, who was one of the fairest women of her
time, went to church on Thursday of Holy Week, three days after Palm
Sunday, to receive the sacrament. ‘Adí had entered the church for
the same purpose. He espied her--she was a big, tall girl--while she
was off her guard, and fixed his gaze upon her before she became
aware of him. Her maidens, who had seen him approaching, said
nothing to their mistress, because one of them called Máriya was
enamoured of ‘Adí and knew no other way of making his acquaintance.
When Hind saw him looking at herself, she was highly displeased and
scolded her handmaidens and beat some of them. ‘Adí had fallen in
love with her, but he kept the matter secret for a whole year. At
the end of that time Máriya, thinking that Hind had forgotten what
passed, described the church of Thómá (St. Thomas) and the nuns
there and the girls who frequented it, and the beauty of the
building and of the lamps, and said to her, "Ask thy mother's leave
to go." As soon as leave was granted, Máriya conveyed the
intelligence to ‘Adí, who immediately dressed himself in a
magnificent gold-embroidered Persian tunic (_yalmaq_) and hastened
to the rendezvous, accompanied by several young men of Ḥíra. When
Máriya perceived him, she cried to Hind, "Look at this youth: by
God, he is fairer than the lamps and all things else that thou
seest." "Who is he?" she asked. "‘Adí, son of Zayd." "Do you think,"
said Hind, "that he will recognise me if I come nearer?" Then she
advanced and watched him as he conversed with his friends,
outshining them all by the beauty of his person, the elegance of his
language, and the splendour of his dress. "Speak to him," said
Máriya to her young mistress, whose countenance betrayed her
feelings. After exchanging a few words the lovers parted. Máriya
went to ‘Adí and promised, if he would first gratify her wishes, to
bring about his union with Hind. She lost no time in warning Nu‘mán
that his daughter was desperately in love with ‘Adí and would either
disgrace herself or die of grief unless he gave her to him. Nu‘mán,
however, was too proud to make overtures to ‘Adí, who on his part
feared to anger the prince by proposing an alliance. The ingenious
Máriya found a way out of the difficulty. She suggested that ‘Adí
should invite Nu‘mán and his suite to a banquet, and having well
plied him with wine should ask for the hand of his daughter, which
would not then be refused. So it came to pass. Nu‘mán gave his
consent to the marriage, and after three days Hind was brought home
to her husband.[100]
[Sidenote: ‘Adí secures the election of Nu‘mán as King of Ḥíra.]
[Sidenote: He is imprisoned and put to death by Nu‘mán.]
On the death of Mundhir IV ‘Adí warmly supported the claims of Nu‘mán,
who had formerly been his pupil and was now his father-in-law, to the
throne of Ḥíra. The ruse which he employed on this occasion was
completely successful, but it cost him his life.[101] The partisans of
Aswad b. Mundhir, one of the defeated candidates, resolved on vengeance.
Their intrigues awakened the suspicions of Nu‘mán against the
'King-maker.' ‘Adí was cast into prison, where he languished for a long
time and was finally murdered by Nu‘mán when the Chosroes (Parwéz, son
of Hurmuz) had already intervened to procure his release.[102]
[Sidenote: The vengeance of Zayd b. ‘Adí.]
[Sidenote: Death of Nu‘mán III.]
‘Adí left a son named Zayd, who, on the recommendation of Nu‘mán, was
appointed by Khusraw Parwéz to succeed his father as Secretary for
Arabian Affairs at the court of Ctesiphon. Apparently reconciled to
Nu‘mán, he was none the less bent on vengeance, and only waited for an
opportunity. The kings of Persia were connoisseurs in female beauty, and
when they desired to replenish their harems they used to circulate an
advertisement describing with extreme particularity the physical and
moral qualities which were to be sought after;[103] but hitherto they
had neglected Arabia, which, as they supposed, could not furnish any
woman possessed of these perfections. Zayd therefore approached the
Chosroes and said: "I know that Nu‘mán has in his family a number of
women answering to the description. Let me go to him, and send with me
one of thy guardsmen who understands Arabic." The Chosroes complied, and
Zayd set out for Ḥíra. On learning the object of his mission, Nu‘mán
exclaimed with indignation: "What! are not the gazelles of Persia
sufficient for your needs?" The comparison of a beautiful woman to a
gazelle is a commonplace in Arabian poetry, but the officer accompanying
Zayd was ill acquainted with Arabic, and asked the meaning of the word
(_‘ín_ or _mahá_) which Nu‘mán had employed. "Cows," said Zayd. When
Parwéz heard from his guardsman that Nu‘mán had said, "Do not the cows
of Persia content him?" he could scarcely suppress his rage. Soon
afterwards he sent for Nu‘mán, threw him into chains, and caused him to
be trampled to pieces by elephants.[104]
[Sidenote: Character of Nu‘mán III.]
Nu‘mán III appears in tradition as a tyrannical prince, devoted to wine,
women, and song. He was the patron of many celebrated poets, and
especially of Nábigha Dhubyání, who was driven from Ḥíra in
consequence of a false accusation. This episode, as well as another in
which the poet Munakhkhal was concerned, gives us a glimpse into the
private life of Nu‘mán. He had married his step-mother, Mutajarrida, a
great beauty in her time; but though he loved her passionately, she
bestowed her affections elsewhere. Nábigha was suspected on account of a
poem in which he described the charms of the queen with the utmost
minuteness, but Munakhkhal was the real culprit. The lovers were
surprised by Nu‘mán, and from that day Munakhkhal was never seen again.
Hence the proverb, "Until Munakhkhal shall return," or, as we might say,
"Until the coming of the Coqcigrues."
[Sidenote: Nu‘mán's conversion to Christianity.]
Although several of the kings of Ḥíra are said to have been
Christians, it is very doubtful whether any except Nu‘mán III deserved
even the name; the Lakhmites, unlike the majority of their subjects,
were thoroughly pagan. Nu‘mán's education would naturally predispose him
to Christianity, and his conversion may have been wrought, as the legend
asserts, by his mentor ‘Adí b. Zayd.
[Sidenote: The Ghassánids or Jafnites.]
According to Muḥammadan genealogists, the Ghassánids, both those
settled in Medína and those to whom the name is consecrated by popular
usage--the Ghassánids of Syria--are descended from ‘Amr b. ‘Ámir
al-Muzayqiyá, who, as was related in the last chapter, sold his
possessions in Yemen and quitted the country, taking with him a great
number of its inhabitants, shortly before the Bursting of the Dyke of
Ma’rib. His son Jafna is generally regarded as the founder of the
dynasty. Of their early history very few authentic facts have been
preserved. At first, we are told, they paid tribute to the Ḑajá‘ima,
a family of the stock of Salíḥ, who ruled the Syrian borderlands
under Roman protection. A struggle ensued, from which the Ghassánids
emerged victorious, and henceforth we find them established in these
regions as the representatives of Roman authority with the official
titles of Patricius and Phylarch, which they and the Arabs around them
rendered after the simple Oriental fashion by 'King' (_malik_).
[Sidenote: Ibn Qutayba's account of the Ghassánids.]
[Sidenote: Ḥárith the Lame.]
[Sidenote: Jabala b. al-Ayham.]
The first (says Ibn Qutayba) that reigned in Syria of the family of
Jafna was Ḥárith b. ‘Amr Muḥarriq, who was so called because
he burnt (_ḥarraqa_) the Arabs in their houses. He is Ḥárith
the Elder (al-Akbar), and his name of honour (_kunya_) is Abú
Shamir. After him reigned Ḥárith b. Abí Shamir, known as
Ḥárith the Lame (_al-A‘raj_), whose mother was Máriya of the
Ear-rings. He was the best of their kings, and the most fortunate,
and the craftiest; and in his raids he went the farthest afield. He
led an expedition against Khaybar[105] and carried off a number of
prisoners, but set them free after his return to Syria. When Mundhir
b. Má’ al-samá marched against him with an army 100,000 strong,
Ḥárith sent a hundred men to meet him--among them the poet Labíd,
who was then a youth--ostensibly to make peace. They surrounded
Mundhir's tent and slew the king and his companions; then they took
horse, and some escaped, while others were slain. The Ghassánid
cavalry attacked the army of Mundhir and put them to flight.
Ḥárith had a daughter named Ḥalíma, who perfumed the hundred
champions on that day and clad them in shrouds of white linen and
coats of mail. She is the heroine of the proverb, "The day of
Ḥalíma is no secret."[106] Ḥárith was succeeded by his son,
Ḥárith the Younger. Among his other sons were ‘Amr b. Ḥárith
(called Abú Shamir the Younger), to whom Nábigha came on leaving
Nu‘mán b. Mundhir; Mundhir b. Ḥárith; and al-Ayham b. Ḥárith.
Jabala, the son of al-Ayham, was the last of the kings of Ghassán.
He was twelve spans in height, and his feet brushed the ground when
he rode on horseback. He reached the Islamic period and became a
Moslem in the Caliphate of ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb, but afterwards
he turned Christian and went to live in the Byzantine Empire. The
occasion of his turning Christian was this: In passing through the
bazaar of Damascus he let his horse tread upon one of the
bystanders, who sprang up and struck Jabala a blow on the face. The
Ghassánís seized the fellow and brought him before Abú ‘Ubayda b.
al-Jarráḥ,[107] complaining that he had struck their master. Abú
‘Ubayda demanded proof. "What use wilt thou make of the proof?" said
Jabala. He answered: "If he has struck thee, thou wilt strike him a
blow in return." "And shall not he be slain?" "No." "Shall not his
hand be cut off?" "No," said Abú ‘Ubayda; "God has ordained
retaliation only--blow for blow." Then Jabala went forth and betook
himself to Roman territory and became a Christian; and he stayed
there all the rest of his life.[108]
[Sidenote: Ḥárith the Lame.]
The Arabian traditions respecting the dynasty of Ghassán are hopelessly
confused and supply hardly any material even for the rough historical
sketch which may be pieced together from the scattered notices in
Byzantine authors.[109] It would seem that the first unquestionable
Ghassánid prince was Ḥárith b. Jabala (Ἀρέθας τοῦ Γαβάλα), who
figures in Arabian chronicles as 'Ḥárith the Lame,' and who was
appointed by Justinian (about 529 A.D.) to balance, on the Roman side,
the active and enterprising King of Ḥíra, Mundhir b. Má’ al-samá.
During the greater part of his long reign (529-569 A.D.) he was engaged
in war with this dangerous rival, to whose defeat and death in the
decisive battle of Ḥalíma we have already referred. Like all his
line, Ḥárith was a Christian of the Monophysite Church, which he
defended with equal zeal and success at a time when its very existence
was at stake. The following story illustrates his formidable character.
Towards the end of his life he visited Constantinople to arrange with
the Imperial Government which of his sons should succeed him, and made a
powerful impression on the people of that city, especially on the
Emperor's nephew, Justinus. Many years afterwards, when Justinus had
fallen into dotage, the chamberlains would frighten him, when he began
to rave, with "Hush! Arethas will come and take you."[110]
[Sidenote: Mundhir b. Ḥárith.]
Ḥárith was succeeded by his son, Mundhir, who vanquished the new King
of Ḥíra, Qábús b. Hind, on Ascension Day, 570 A.D., in a battle which
is perhaps identical with that celebrated by the Arabs as the Battle of
‘Ayn Ubágh. The refusal of the Emperor Justinus to furnish him with
money may have prevented Mundhir from pursuing his advantage, and was
the beginning of open hostility between them, which culminated about
eleven years later in his being carried off to Constantinople and forced
to reside in Sicily.
From this time to the Persian conquest of Palestine (614 A.D.) anarchy
prevailed throughout the Ghassánid kingdom. The various tribes elected
their own princes, who sometimes, no doubt, were Jafnites; but the
dynasty had virtually broken up. Possibly it was restored by Heraclius
when he drove the Persians out of Syria (629 A.D.), as the Ghassánians
are repeatedly found fighting for Rome against the Moslems, and
according to the unanimous testimony of Arabian writers, the Jafnite
Jabala b. al-Ayham, who took an active part in the struggle, was the
last king of Ghassán. His accession may be placed about 635 A.D. The
poet Ḥassán b. Thábit, who as a native of Medína could claim kinship
with the Ghassánids, and visited their court in his youth, gives a
glowing description of its luxury and magnificence.
[Sidenote: Ḥassán b. Thábit's picture of the Ghassánid court.]
"I have seen ten singing-girls, five of them Greeks, singing Greek
songs to the music of lutes, and five from Ḥíra who had been
presented to King Jabala by Iyás b. Qabíṣa,[111] chanting
Babylonian airs. Arab singers used to come from Mecca and elsewhere
for his delight; and when he would drink wine he sat on a couch of
myrtle and jasmine and all sorts of sweet-smelling flowers,
surrounded by gold and silver vessels full of ambergris and musk.
During winter aloes-wood was burned in his apartments, while in
summer he cooled himself with snow. Both he and his courtiers wore
light robes, arranged with more regard to comfort than
ceremony,[112] in the hot weather, and white furs, called
_fanak_,[113] or the like, in the cold season; and, by God, I was
never in his company but he gave me the robe which he was wearing on
that day, and many of his friends were thus honoured. He treated the
rude with forbearance; he laughed without reserve and lavished his
gifts before they were sought. He was handsome, and agreeable in
conversation: I never knew him offend in speech or act."[114]
[Sidenote: Ghassánid civilisation.]
[Sidenote: Nábigha's encomium.]
Unlike the rival dynasty on the Euphrates, the Ghassánids had no fixed
residence. They ruled the country round Damascus and Palmyra, but these
places were never in their possession. The capital of their nomad
kingdom was the temporary camp (in Aramaic, _ḥértá_) which followed
them to and fro, but was generally to be found in the Gaulonitis
(al-Jawlán), south of Damascus. Thus under the quickening impulse of
Hellenistic culture the Ghassánids developed a civilisation far superior
to that of the Lakhmites, who, just because of their half-barbarian
character, were more closely in touch with the heathen Arabs, and
exercised a deeper influence upon them. Some aspects of this
civilisation have been indicated in the description of Jabala b.
al-Ayham's court, attributed to the poet Ḥassán. An earlier bard, the
famous Nábigha, having fallen out of favour with Nu‘mán III of Híra,
fled to Syria, where he composed a splendid eulogy of the Ghassánids in
honour of his patron, King ‘Amr, son of Ḥárith the Lame. After
celebrating their warlike prowess, which he has immortalised in the
oft-quoted verse--
"One fault they have: their swords are blunt of edge
Through constant beating on their foemen's mail,"
he concludes in a softer strain:
"Theirs is a liberal nature that God gave
To no men else; their virtues never fail.
Their home the Holy Land: their faith upright:
They hope to prosper if good deeds avail.
Zoned in fair wise and delicately shod,
They keep the Feast of Palms, when maidens pale,
Whose scarlet silken robes on trestles hang,
Greet them with odorous boughs and bid them hail.
Long lapped in ease tho' bred to war, their limbs
Green-shouldered vestments, white-sleeved, richly veil."[115]
[Sidenote: Character of Bedouin history.]
The Pre-islamic history of the Bedouins is mainly a record of wars, or
rather guerillas, in which a great deal of raiding and plundering was
accomplished, as a rule without serious bloodshed. There was no lack of
shouting; volleys of vaunts and satires were exchanged; camels and women
were carried off; many skirmishes took place but few pitched battles: it
was an Homeric kind of warfare that called forth individual exertion in
the highest degree, and gave ample opportunity for single-handed deeds
of heroism. "To write a true history of such Bedouin feuds is well-nigh
impossible. As comparatively trustworthy sources of information we have
only the poems and fragments of verse which have been preserved.
According to Suyúṭí, the Arabian traditionists used to demand from
any Bedouin who related an historical event the citation of some verses
in its support; and, in effect, all such stories that have come down to
us are crystallised round the poems. Unfortunately these crystals are
seldom pure. It appears only too often that the narratives have been
invented, with abundant fancy and with more or less skill, to suit the
contents of the verses."[116] But although what is traditionally related
concerning the Battle-days of the Arabs (_Ayyámu ’l-‘Arab_) is to a
large extent legendary, it describes with sufficient fidelity how tribal
hostilities generally arose and the way in which they were conducted.
The following account of the War of Basús--the most famous of those
waged in Pre-islamic times--will serve to illustrate this important
phase of Bedouin life.[117]
[Sidenote: War of Basús.]
Towards the end of the fifth century A.D. Kulayb, son of Rabí‘a, was
chieftain of the Banú Taghlib, a powerful tribe which divided with their
kinsmen, the Banú Bakr, a vast tract in north-eastern Arabia, extending
from the central highlands to the Syrian desert. His victory at the head
of a confederacy formed by these tribes and others over the Yemenite
Arabs made him the first man in the peninsula, and soon his pride became
no less proverbial than his power.[118] He was married to Ḥalíla,
daughter of Murra, of the Banú Bakr, and dwelt in a 'preserve'
(_ḥimá_), where he claimed the sole right of pasturage for himself
and the sons of Murra. His brother-in-law, Jassás, had an aunt named
Basús. While living under her nephew's protection she was joined by a
certain Sa‘d, a client of her own people, who brought with him a
she-camel called Sarábi.
[Sidenote: Kulayb b. Rabí‘a and Jassás b. Murra.]
[Sidenote: The wounding of Sa‘d's she-camel.]
Now it happened that Kulayb, seeing a lark's nest as he walked on his
land, said to the bird, which was screaming and fluttering distressfully
over her eggs, "Have no fear! I will protect thee." But a short time
afterwards he observed in that place the track of a strange camel and
found the eggs trodden to pieces. Next morning when he and Jassás
visited the pasture ground, Kulayb noticed the she-camel of Sa‘d among
his brother-in-law's herd, and conjecturing that she had destroyed the
eggs, cried out to Jassás, "Take heed thou! Take heed! I have pondered
something, and were I sure, I would have done it! May this she-camel
never come here again with this herd!" "By God," exclaimed Jassás, "but
she shall come!" and when Kulayb threatened to pierce her udder with an
arrow, Jassás retorted, "By the stones of Wá’il,[119] fix thine arrow in
her udder and I will fix my lance in thy backbone!" Then he drove his
camels forth from the _ḥimá_. Kulayb went home in a passion, and said
to his wife, who sought to discover what ailed him, "Knowest thou any
one who durst defend his client against me?" She answered, "No one
except my brother Jassás, if he has given his word." She did what she
could to prevent the quarrel going further, and for a time nothing worse
than taunts passed between them, until one day Kulayb went to look after
his camels which were being taken to water, and were followed by those
of Jassás. While the latter were waiting their turn to drink, Sa‘d's
she-camel broke loose and ran towards the water. Kulayb imagined that
Jassás had let her go deliberately, and resenting the supposed insult,
he seized his bow and shot her through the udder. The beast lay down,
moaning loudly, before the tent of Basús, who in vehement indignation at
the wrong suffered by her friend, Sa‘d, tore the veil from her head,
beating her face and crying, "O shame, shame!" Then, addressing Sa‘d,
but raising her voice so that Jassás might hear, she spoke these verses,
which are known as 'The Instigators' (_al-Muwaththibát_):--
[Sidenote: Verses spoken by Basús.]
"_O Sa‘d, be not deceived! Protect thyself!
This people for their clients have no care.
Look to my herds, I charge thee, for I doubt
Even my little daughters ill may fare.
By thy life, had I been in Minqar's house,
Thou would'st not have been wronged, my client, there!
But now such folk I dwell among that when
The wolf comes, 'tis my sheep he comes to tear!_"[120]
[Sidenote: Kulayb murdered by Jassás.]
Jassás was stung to the quick by the imputation, which no Arab can
endure, that injury and insult might be inflicted upon his guest-friend
with impunity. Some days afterwards, having ascertained that Kulayb had
gone out unarmed, he followed and slew him, and fled in haste to his own
people. Murra, when he heard the news, said to his son, "Thou alone must
answer for thy deed: thou shalt be put in chains that his kinsmen may
slay thee. By the stones of Wá’il, never will Bakr and Taghlib be joined
together in welfare after the death of Kulayb. Verily, an evil thing
hast thou brought upon thy people, O Jassás! Thou hast slain their chief
and severed their union and cast war into their midst." So he put Jassás
in chains and confined him in a tent; then he summoned the elders of the
families and asked them, "What do ye say concerning Jassás? Here he is,
a prisoner, until the avengers demand him and we deliver him unto them."
"No, by God," cried Sa‘d b. Málik b. Ḑubay‘a b. Qays, "we will not
give him up, but will fight for him to the last man!" With these words
he called for a camel to be sacrificed, and when its throat was cut they
swore to one another over the blood. Thereupon Murra said to Jassás:--
[Sidenote: Verses of Murra, the father of Jassás.]
"_If war thou hast wrought and brought on me,
No laggard I with arms outworn.
Whate'er befall, I make to flow
The baneful cups of death at morn._
_When spear-points clash, my wounded man
Is forced to drag the spear he stained.
Never I reck, if war must be,
What Destiny hath preordained._
_Donning war's harness, I will strive
To fend from me the shame that sears.
Already I thrill and my lust is roused
For the shock of the horsemen against the spears!_"[121]
[Sidenote: Outbreak of war between Taghlib and Bakr.]
Thus began the War of Basús between Taghlib on the one side and the clan
of Shaybán, to which Murra belonged, on the other; for at first the
remaining divisions of Bakr held aloof from the struggle, considering
Shaybán to be clearly in the wrong. The latter were reduced to dire
straits, when an event occurred which caused the Bakrites to rise as one
man on behalf of their fellows. Ḥárith b.‘Ubád, a famous knight of
Bakr, had refused to take part in the contest, saying in words which
became proverbial, "I have neither camel nor she-camel in it," _i.e._,
"it is no affair of mine." One day his nephew, Bujayr, encountered
Kulayb's brother, Muhalhil, on whom the mantle of the murdered chief had
fallen; and Muhalhil, struck with admiration for the youth's comeliness,
asked him who he was. "Bujayr," said he, "the son of ‘Amr, the son of
‘Ubád." "And who is thy uncle on the mother's side?" "My mother is a
captive" (for he would not name an uncle of whom he had no honour). Then
Muhalhil slew him, crying, "Pay for Kulayb's shoe-latchet!" On hearing
this, Ḥárith sent a message to Muhalhil in which he declared that if
vengeance were satisfied by the death of Bujayr, he for his part would
gladly acquiesce. But Muhalhil replied, "I have taken satisfaction only
for Kulayb's shoe-latchet." Thereupon Ḥárith sprang up in wrath and
cried:--
"_God knows, I kindled not this fire, altho'
I am burned in it to-day.
A lord for a shoe-latchet is too dear:
To horse! To horse! Away!_"[122]
And al-Find, of the Banú Bakr, said on this occasion:--
[Sidenote: Verses by al-Find.]
"_We spared the Banú Hind[123] and said, 'Our brothers they remain:
It may be Time will make of us one people yet again.'_"
_But when the wrong grew manifest, and naked Ill stood plain,
And naught was left but ruthless hate, we paid them bane with bane!
As lions marched we forth to war in wrath and high disdain:
Our swords brought widowhood and tears and wailing in their train,
Our spears dealt gashes wide whence blood like water spilled amain.
No way but Force to weaken Force and mastery obtain;
'Tis wooing contumely to meet wild actions with humane:
By evil thou may'st win to peace when good is tried in vain._"[124]
[Sidenote: The Day of Shearing.]
The Banú Bakr now prepared for a decisive battle. As their enemy had the
advantage in numbers, they adopted a stratagem devised by Ḥárith.
"Fight them," said he, "with your women. Equip every woman with a small
waterskin and give her a club. Place the whole body of them behind
you--this will make you more resolved in battle--and wear some
distinguishing mark which they will recognise, so that when a woman
passes by one of your wounded she may know him by his mark and give him
water to drink, and raise him from the ground; but when she passes by
one of your foes she will smite him with her club and slay him." So the
Bakrites shaved their heads, devoting themselves to death, and made this
a mark of recognition between themselves and their women, and this day
was called the Day of Shearing. Now Jaḥdar b. Ḑubay‘a was an
ill-favoured, dwarfish man, with fair flowing love-locks, and he said,
"O my people, if ye shave my head ye will disfigure me, so leave my
locks for the first horseman of Taghlib that shall emerge from the
hill-pass on the morrow" (meaning "I will answer for him, if my locks
are spared"). On his request being granted, he exclaimed:--
[Sidenote: The vow of Jaḥdar b. Ḑubay‘a.]
"_To wife and daughter
Henceforth I am dead:
Dust for ointment
On my hair is shed._
_Let me close with the horsemen
Who hither ride,
Cut my locks from me
If I stand aside!_
_Well wots a mother
If the son she bore
And swaddled on her bosom
And smelt him o'er,_
_Whenever warriors
In the mellay meet,
Is a puny weakling
Or a man complete!_"[125]
He kept his promise but in the course of the fight he fell, severely
wounded. When the women came to him, they saw his love-locks and
imagining that he was an enemy despatched him with their clubs.
[Sidenote: Women as combatants.]
The presence of women on the field and the active share they took in the
combat naturally provoked the bitterest feelings. If they were not
engaged in finishing the bloody work of the men, their tongues were busy
inciting them. We are told that a daughter of al-Find bared herself
recklessly and chanted:--
"_War! War! War! War!
It has blazed up and scorched us sore.
The highlands are filled with its roar.
Well done, the morning when your heads ye shore!_"[126]
The mothers were accompanied by their children, whose tender age did not
always protect them from an exasperated foe. It is related that a
horseman of the Banú Taghlib transfixed a young boy and lifted him up on
the point of his spear. He is said to have been urged to this act of
savagery by one al-Bazbáz, who was riding behind him on the crupper.
Their triumph was short; al-Find saw them, and with a single
spear-thrust pinned them to each other--an exploit which his own verses
record.
On this day the Banú Bakr gained a great victory, and broke the power of
Taghlib. It was the last battle of note in the Forty Years' War, which
was carried on, by raiding and plundering, until the exhaustion of both
tribes and the influence of King Mundhir III of Ḥíra brought it to an
end.
[Sidenote: The War of Dáḥis and Ghabrá.]
Not many years after the conclusion of peace between Bakr and Taghlib,
another war, hardly less famous in tradition than the War of Basús,
broke out in Central Arabia. The combatants were the tribes of ‘Abs and
Dhubyán, the principal stocks of the Banú Ghaṭafán, and the occasion
of their coming to blows is related as follows:--
Qays, son of Zuhayr, was chieftain of ‘Abs. He had a horse called
Dáḥis, renowned for its speed, which he matched against Ghabrá, a
mare belonging to Ḥudhayfa b. Badr, the chief of Dhubyán. It was
agreed that the course should be a hundred bow-shots in length, and
that the victor should receive a hundred camels. When the race began
Ghabrá took the lead, but as they left the firm ground and entered
upon the sand, where the 'going' was heavy, Dáḥis gradually drew
level and passed his antagonist. He was nearing the goal when some
Dhubyánites sprang from an ambuscade prepared beforehand, and drove
him out of his course, thus enabling Ghabrá to defeat him. On being
informed of this foul play Qays naturally claimed that he had won
the wager, but the men of Dhubyán refused to pay even a single
camel. Bitterly resenting their treachery, he waylaid and slew one
of Ḥudhayfa's brothers. Ḥudhayfa sought vengeance, and the
murder of Málik, a brother of Qays, by his horsemen gave the signal
for war. In the fighting which ensued Dhubyán more than held their
own, but neither party could obtain a decisive advantage. Qays slew
the brothers Ḥudhayfa and Ḥamal--
"_Ḥamal I slew and eased my heart thereby,
Ḥudhayfa glutted my avenging brand;
But though I slaked my thirst by slaying them,
I would as lief have lost my own right hand._"[127]
After a long period--forty years according to the traditional
computation--‘Abs and Dhubyán were reconciled by the exertions of
two chieftains of the latter tribe, Ḥárith b. ‘Awf and Harim b.
Sinán, whose generous and patriotic intervention the poet Zuhayr has
celebrated. Qays went into exile. "I will not look," he said, "on
the face of any woman of Dhubyán whose father or brother or husband
or son I have killed." If we may believe the legend, he became a
Christian monk and ended his days in ‘Umán.
[Sidenote: The Hijáz.]
Descending westward from the highlands of Najd the traveller gradually
approaches the Red Sea, which is separated from the mountains running
parallel to it by a narrow strip of coast-land, called the Tiháma
(Netherland). The rugged plateau between Najd and the coast forms the
Ḥijáz (Barrier), through which in ancient times the Sabæan caravans
laden with costly merchandise passed on their way to the Mediterranean
ports. Long before the beginning of our era two considerable trading
settlements had sprung up in this region, viz., Macoraba (Mecca) and,
some distance farther north, Yathrippa (Yathrib, the Pre-islamic name of
Medína). Of their early inhabitants and history we know nothing except
what is related by Muḥammadan writers, whose information reaches back
to the days of Adam and Abraham. Mecca was the cradle of Islam, and
Islam, according to Muḥammad, is the religion of Abraham, which was
corrupted by succeeding generations until he himself was sent to purify
it and to preach it anew. Consequently the Pre-islamic history of Mecca
has all been, so to speak, 'Islamised.' The Holy City of Islam is made
to appear in the same light thousands of years before the Prophet's
time: here, it is said, the Arabs were united in worship of Allah, hence
they scattered and fell into idolatry, hither they return annually as
pilgrims to a shrine which had been originally dedicated to the One
Supreme Being, but which afterwards became a Pantheon of tribal deities.
This theory lies at the root of the Muḥammadan legend which I shall
now recount as briefly as possible, only touching on the salient points
of interest.
[Sidenote: Foundation of the Ka‘ba.]
In the Meccan valley--the primitive home of that portion of the Arab
race which claims descent from Ismá‘íl (Ishmael), the son of Ibráhím
(Abraham) by Hájar (Hagar)--stands an irregular, cube-shaped building of
small dimensions--the Ka‘ba. Legend attributes its foundation to Adam,
who built it by Divine command after a celestial archetype. At the
Deluge it was taken up into heaven, but was rebuilt on its former site
by Abraham and Ishmael. While they were occupied in this work Gabriel
brought the celebrated Black Stone, which is set in the southeast corner
of the building, and he also instructed them in the ceremonies of the
Pilgrimage. When all was finished Abraham stood on a rock known to later
ages as the _Maqámu Ibráhím_, and, turning to the four quarters of the
sky, made proclamation: "O ye people! The Pilgrimage to the Ancient
House is prescribed unto you. Hearken to your Lord!" And from every part
of the world came the answer: "_Labbayka ’lláhumma, labbayka_"--_i.e._,
"We obey, O God, we obey."
[Sidenote: Idolatry introduced at Mecca.]
The descendants of Ishmael multiplied exceedingly, so that the barren
valley could no longer support them, and a great number wandered forth
to other lands. They were succeeded as rulers of the sacred territory by
the tribe of Jurhum, who waxed in pride and evil-doing until the
vengeance of God fell upon them. Mention has frequently been made of the
Bursting of the Dyke of Ma’rib, which caused an extensive movement of
Yemenite stocks to the north. The invaders halted in the Ḥijáz, and,
having almost exterminated the Jurhumites, resumed their journey. One
group, however--the Banú Khuzá‘a, led by their chief Luḥayy--settled
in the neighbourhood of Mecca. ‘Amr, son of Luḥayy, was renowned
among the Arabs for his wealth and generosity. Ibn Hishám says: 'I have
been told by a learned man that ‘Amr b. Luḥayy went from Mecca to
Syria on some business and when he arrived at Má’ab, in the land of
al-Balqá, he found the inhabitants, who were ‘Amálíq, worshipping idols.
"What are these idols?" he inquired. "They are idols that send us rain
when we ask them for rain, and help us when we ask them for help." "Will
ye not give me one of them," said ‘Amr, "that I may take it to Arabia to
be worshipped there?" So they gave him an idol called Hubal, which he
brought to Mecca and set it up and bade the people worship and venerate
it.'[128] Following his example, the Arabs brought their idols and
installed them round the sanctuary. The triumph of Paganism was
complete. We are told that hundreds of idols were destroyed by
Muḥammad when he entered Mecca at the head of a Moslem army in 8 A.H.
= 629 A.D.
[Sidenote: The Quraysh.]
To return to the posterity of Ismá‘íl through ‘Adnán: the principal of
their descendants who remained in the Ḥijáz were the Hudhayl, the
Kinána, and the Quraysh. The last-named tribe must now engage our
attention almost exclusively. During the century before Muḥammad we
find them in undisputed possession of Mecca and acknowledged guardians
of the Ka‘ba--an office which they administered with a shrewd
appreciation of its commercial value. Their rise to power is related as
follows:--
[Sidenote: The story of Quṣayy.]
[Sidenote: Quṣayy master of Mecca.]
Kiláb b. Murra, a man of Quraysh, had two sons, Zuhra and Zayd. The
latter was still a young child when his father died, and soon
afterwards his mother, Fáṭima, who had married again, left Mecca,
taking Zayd with her, and went to live in her new husband's home
beside the Syrian borders. Zayd grew up far from his native land,
and for this reason he got the name of Quṣayy--_i.e._, 'Little
Far-away.' When he reached man's estate and discovered his true
origin he returned to Mecca, where the hegemony was wholly in the
hands of the Khuzá‘ites under their chieftain, Ḥulayl b.
Ḥubshiyya, with the determination to procure the superintendence
of the Ka‘ba for his own people, the Quraysh, who as pure-blooded
descendants of Ismá‘íl had the best right to that honour. By his
marriage with Ḥubbá, the daughter of Ḥulayl, he hoped to
inherit the privileges vested in his father-in-law, but Ḥulayl on
his deathbed committed the keys of the Ka‘ba to a kinsman named Abú
Ghubshán. Not to be baffled, Quṣayy made the keeper drunk and
persuaded him to sell the keys for a skin of wine--hence the
proverbs "A greater fool than Abú Ghubshán" and "Abú Ghubshán's
bargain," denoting a miserable fraud. Naturally the Khuza‘ites did
not acquiesce in the results of this transaction; they took up arms,
but Quṣayy was prepared for the struggle and won a decisive
victory. He was now master of Temple and Town and could proceed to
the work of organisation. His first step was to bring together the
Quraysh, who had previously been dispersed over a wide area, into
the Meccan valley--this earned for him the title of _al-Mujammi‘_
(the Congregator)--so that each family had its allotted quarter. He
built a House of Assembly (_Dáru ’l-Nadwa_), where matters affecting
the common weal were discussed by the Elders of the tribe. He also
instituted and centred in himself a number of dignities in
connection with the government of the Ka‘ba and the administration
of the Pilgrimage, besides others of a political and military
character. Such was his authority that after his death, no less than
during his life, all these ordinances were regarded by the Quraysh
as sacred and inviolable.
[Sidenote: Mecca in the sixth century after Christ.]
The death of Quṣayy may be placed in the latter half of the fifth
century. His descendant, the Prophet Muḥammad, was born about a
hundred years afterwards, in 570 or 571 A.D. With one notable exception,
to be mentioned immediately, the history of Mecca during the period thus
defined is a record of petty factions unbroken by any event of
importance. The Prophet's ancestors fill the stage and assume a
commanding position, which in all likelihood they never possessed; the
historical rivalry of the Umayyads and ‘Abbásids appears in the persons
of their founders, Umayya and Háshim--and so forth. Meanwhile the
influence of the Quraysh was steadily maintained and extended. The Ka‘ba
had become a great national rendezvous, and the crowds of pilgrims which
it attracted from almost every Arabian clan not only raised the credit
of the Quraysh, but also materially contributed to their commercial
prosperity. It has already been related how Abraha, the Abyssinian
viceroy of Yemen, resolved to march against Mecca with the avowed
purpose of avenging upon the Ka‘ba a sacrilege committed by one of the
Quraysh in the church at Ṣan‘á. Something of that kind may have
served as a pretext, but no doubt his real aim was to conquer Mecca and
to gain control of her trade.
[Sidenote: The Year of the Elephant.]
[Sidenote: The Abyssinians at Mecca.]
This memorable expedition[129] is said by Moslem historians to have
taken place in the year of Muḥammad's birth (about 570 A.D.), usually
known as the Year of the Elephant--a proof that the Arabs were deeply
impressed by the extraordinary spectacle of these huge animals, one or
more of which accompanied the Abyssinian force. The report of Abraha's
preparations filled the tribesmen with dismay. At first they endeavoured
to oppose his march, regarding the defence of the Ka‘ba as a sacred
duty, but they soon lost heart, and Abraha, after defeating Dhú Nafar, a
Ḥimyarite chieftain, encamped in the neighbourhood of Mecca without
further resistance. He sent the following message to ‘Abdu
’l-Muṭṭalib, the Prophet's grandfather, who was at that time the
most influential personage in Mecca: "I have not come to wage war on
you, but only to destroy the Temple. Unless you take up arms in its
defence, I have no wish to shed your blood." ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib
replied: "By God, we seek not war, for which we are unable. This is
God's holy House and the House of Abraham, His Friend; it is for Him to
protect His House and Sanctuary; if He abandons it, we cannot defend
it."
[Sidenote: ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib's interview with Abraha.]
Then ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib was conducted by the envoy to the
Abyssinian camp, as Abraha had ordered. There he inquired after Dhú
Nafar, who was his friend, and found him a prisoner. "O Dhú Nafar,"
said he, "can you do aught in that which has befallen us?" Dhú Nafar
answered, "What can a man do who is a captive in the hands of a
king, expecting day and night to be put to death? I can do nothing
at all in the matter, but Unays, the elephant-driver, is my friend;
I will send to him and press your claims on his consideration and
ask him to procure you an audience with the king. Tell Unays what
you wish: he will plead with the king in your favour if he can." So
Dhú Nafar sent for Unays and said to him, "O Unays, ‘Abdu
’l-Muṭṭalib is lord of Quraysh and master of the caravans of
Mecca. He feeds the people in the plain and the wild creatures on
the mountain-tops. The king has seized two hundred of his camels.
Now get him admitted to the king's presence and help him to the best
of your power." Unays consented, and soon ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib
stood before the king. When Abraha saw him he held him in too high
respect to let him sit in an inferior place, but was unwilling that
the Abyssinians should see the Arab chief, who was a large man and a
comely, seated on a level with himself; he therefore descended from
his throne and sat on his carpet and bade ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib
sit beside him. Then he said to his dragoman, "Ask him what he wants
of me." ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib replied, "I want the king to restore
to me two hundred camels of mine which he has taken away." Abraha
said to the dragoman, "Tell him: You pleased me when I first saw
you, but now that you have spoken to me I hold you cheap. What! do
you speak to me of two hundred camels which I have taken, and omit
to speak of a temple venerated by you and your fathers which I have
come to destroy?" Then said ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib: "The camels are
mine, but the Temple belongs to another, who will defend it," and on
the king exclaiming, "He cannot defend it from me," he said, "That
is your affair; only give me back my camels."
As it is related in a more credible version, the tribes settled
round Mecca sent ambassadors, of whom ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib was
one, offering to surrender a third part of their possessions to
Abraha on condition that he should spare the Temple, but he refused.
Having recovered his camels, ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib returned to the
Quraysh, told them what had happened, and bade them leave the city
and take shelter in the mountains. Then he went to the Ka‘ba,
accompanied by several of the Quraysh, to pray for help against
Abraha and his army. Grasping the ring of the door, he cried:--
"_O God, defend Thy neighbouring folk even as a man his gear[130]
defendeth!
Let not their Cross and guileful plans defeat the plans Thyself
intendeth!
But if Thou make it so, 'tis well: according to Thy will it
endeth._"[131]
[Sidenote: Rout of the Abyssinians.]
Next morning, when Abraha prepared to enter Mecca, his elephant
knelt down and would not budge, though they beat its head with an
axe and thrust sharp stakes into its flanks; but when they turned it
in the direction of Yemen, it rose up and trotted with alacrity.
Then God sent from the sea a flock of birds like swallows every one
of which carried three stones as large as a chick-pea or a lentil,
one in its bill and one in each claw, and all who were struck by
those stones perished.[132] The rest fled in disorder, dropping down
as they ran or wherever they halted to quench their thirst. Abraha
himself was smitten with a plague so that his limbs rotted off
piecemeal.[133]
These details are founded on the 105th chapter of the Koran, entitled
'The Súra of the Elephant,' which may be freely rendered as follows:--
"Hast not thou seen the people of the Elephant, how dealt
with them the Lord?
Did not He make their plot to end in ruin abhorred?--
When He sent against them birds, horde on horde,
And stones of baked clay upon them poured,
And made them as leaves of corn devoured."
The part played by ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib in the story is, of course, a
pious fiction designed to glorify the Holy City and to claim for the
Prophet's family fifty years before Islam a predominance which they did
not obtain until long afterwards; but equally of course the legend
reflects Muḥammadan belief, and may be studied with advantage as a
characteristic specimen of its class.
"When God repulsed the Abyssinians from Mecca and smote them with His
vengeance, the Arabs held the Quraysh in high respect and said, 'They
are God's people: God hath fought for them and hath defended them
against their enemy;' and made poems on this matter."[134] The following
verses, according to Ibn Isḥáq, are by Abu ’l-Ṣalt b. Abí Rabí‘a
of Thaqíf; others more reasonably ascribe them to his son Umayya, a
well-known poet and monotheist (Ḥaníf) contemporary with
Muḥammad:--
[Sidenote: Verses by Umayya b. Abi ’l-Ṣalt.]
"Lo, the signs of our Lord are everlasting,
None disputes them except the unbeliever.
He created Day and Night: unto all men
Is their Reckoning ordained, clear and certain.
Gracious Lord! He illumines the daytime
With a sun widely scattering radiance.
He the Elephant stayed at Mughammas
So that sore it limped as though it were hamstrung,
Cleaving close to its halter, and down dropped,
As one falls from the crag of a mountain.
Gathered round it were princes of Kinda,
Noble heroes, fierce hawks in the mellay.
There they left it: they all fled together,
Every man with his shank-bone broken.
Vain before God is every religion,
When the dead rise, except the Ḥanífite.[135]"
[Sidenote: Battle of Dhú Qár (circa 610 A.D.).]
The patriotic feelings aroused in the Arabs of the Ḥijáz by the
Abyssinian invasion--feelings which must have been shared to some extent
by the Bedouins generally--received a fresh stimulus through events
which occurred about forty years after this time on the other side of
the peninsula. It will be remembered that the Lakhmite dynasty at
Ḥíra came to an end with Nu‘mán III, who was cruelly executed by
Khusraw Parwéz (602 or 607 A.D.).[136] Before his death he had deposited
his arms and other property with Háni’, a chieftain of the Banú Bakr.
These were claimed by Khusraw, and as Háni’ refused to give them up, a
Persian army was sent to Dhú Qár, a place near Kúfa abounding in water
and consequently a favourite resort of the Bakrites during the dry
season. A desperate conflict ensued, in which the Persians were
completely routed.[137] Although the forces engaged were comparatively
small,[138] this victory was justly regarded by the Arabs as marking the
commencement of a new order of things; _e.g._, it is related that
Muḥammad said when the tidings reached him: "This is the first day on
which the Arabs have obtained satisfaction from the Persians." The
desert tribes, hitherto overshadowed by the Sásánian Empire and held in
check by the powerful dynasty of Ḥíra, were now confident and
aggressive. They began to hate and despise the Colossus which they no
longer feared, and which, before many years had elapsed, they trampled
in the dust.
CHAPTER III
PRE-ISLAMIC POETRY, MANNERS, AND RELIGION
"When there appeared a poet in a family of the Arabs, the other tribes
round about would gather together to that family and wish them joy of
their good luck. Feasts would be got ready, the women of the tribe would
join together in bands, playing upon lutes, as they were wont to do at
bridals, and the men and boys would congratulate one another; for a poet
was a defence to the honour of them all, a weapon to ward off insult
from their good name, and a means of perpetuating their glorious deeds
and of establishing their fame for ever. And they used not to wish one
another joy but for three things--the birth of a boy, the coming to
light of a poet, and the foaling of a noble mare."[139]
As far as extant literature is concerned--and at this time there was
only a spoken literature, which was preserved by oral tradition, and
first committed to writing long afterwards--the _Jáhiliyya_ or
Pre-islamic Age covers scarcely more than a century, from about 500
A.D., when the oldest poems of which we have any record were composed,
to the year of Muḥammad's Flight to Medína (622 A.D.), which is the
starting-point of a new era in Arabian history. The influence of these
hundred and twenty years was great and lasting. They saw the rise and
incipient decline of a poetry which most Arabic-speaking Moslems have
always regarded as a model of unapproachable excellence; a poetry rooted
in the life of the people, that insensibly moulded their minds and fixed
their character and made them morally and spiritually a nation long
before Muḥammad welded the various conflicting groups into a single
organism, animated, for some time at least, by a common purpose. In
those days poetry was no luxury for the cultured few, but the sole
medium of literary expression. Every tribe had its poets, who freely
uttered what they felt and thought. Their unwritten words "flew across
the desert faster than arrows," and came home to the hearts and bosoms
of all who heard them. Thus in the midst of outward strife and
disintegration a unifying principle was at work. Poetry gave life and
currency to an ideal of Arabian virtue (_muruwwa_), which, though based
on tribal community of blood and insisting that only ties of blood were
sacred, nevertheless became an invisible bond between diverse clans, and
formed, whether consciously or not, the basis of a national community of
sentiment.
[Sidenote: Origins of Arabian poetry]
In the following pages I propose to trace the origins of Arabian poetry,
to describe its form, contents, and general features, to give some
account of the most celebrated Pre-islamic poets and collections of
Pre-islamic verse, and finally to show in what manner it was preserved
and handed down.
By the ancient Arabs the poet (_shá‘ir_, plural _shu‘ará_), as his name
implies, was held to be a person endowed with supernatural knowledge, a
wizard in league with spirits (_jinn_) or satans (_shayáṭín_) and
dependent on them for the magical powers which he displayed. This view
of his personality, as well as the influential position which he
occupied, are curiously indicated by the story of a certain youth who
was refused the hand of his beloved on the ground that he was neither a
poet nor a soothsayer nor a water-diviner.[140] The idea of poetry as an
art was developed afterwards; the pagan _shá‘ir_ is the oracle of his
tribe, their guide in peace and their champion in war. It was to him
they turned for counsel when they sought new pastures, only at his word
would they pitch or strike their 'houses of hair,' and when the tired
and thirsty wanderers found a well and drank of its water and washed
themselves, led by him they may have raised their voices together and
sung, like Israel--
"Spring up, O well, sing ye unto it."[141]
[Sidenote: Satire.]
Besides fountain-songs, war-songs, and hymns to idols, other kinds of
poetry must have existed in the earliest times--_e.g._, the love-song
and the dirge. The powers of the _shá‘ir_, however, were chiefly
exhibited in Satire (_hijá_), which in the oldest known form "introduces
and accompanies the tribal feud, and is an element of war just as
important as the actual fighting."[142] The menaces which he hurled
against the foe were believed to be inevitably fatal. His rhymes, often
compared to arrows, had all the effect of a solemn curse spoken by a
divinely inspired prophet or priest,[143] and their pronunciation was
attended with peculiar ceremonies of a symbolic character, such as
anointing the hair on one side of the head, letting the mantle hang down
loosely, and wearing only one sandal.[144] Satire retained something of
these ominous associations at a much later period when the magic
utterance of the _shá‘ir_ had long given place to the lampoon by which
the poet reviles his enemies and holds them up to shame.
[Sidenote: Saj‘.]
The obscure beginnings of Arabian poetry, presided over by the magician
and his familiar spirits, have left not a rack behind in the shape of
literature, but the task of reconstruction is comparatively easy where
we are dealing with a people so conservative and tenacious of antiquity
as the Arabs. Thus it may be taken for certain that the oldest form of
poetical speech in Arabia was rhyme without metre (_Saj‘_), or, as we
should say, 'rhymed prose,' although the fact of Muḥammad's
adversaries calling him a poet because he used it in the Koran shows the
light in which it was regarded even after the invention and elaboration
of metre. Later on, as we shall see, _Saj‘_ became a merely rhetorical
ornament, the distinguishing mark of all eloquence whether spoken or
written, but originally it had a deeper, almost religious, significance
as the special form adopted by poets, soothsayers, and the like in their
supernatural revelations and for conveying to the vulgar every kind of
mysterious and esoteric lore.
[Sidenote: Rajaz.]
Out of _Saj‘_ was evolved the most ancient of the Arabian metres, which
is known by the name of _Rajaz_.[145] This is an irregular iambic metre
usually consisting of four or six--an Arab would write 'two or
three'--feet to the line; and it is a peculiarity of _Rajaz_, marking
its affinity to _Saj‘_, that all the lines rhyme with each other,
whereas in the more artificial metres only the opening verse[146] is
doubly rhymed. A further characteristic of _Rajaz_ is that it should be
uttered extempore, a few verses at a time--commonly verses expressing
some personal feeling, emotion, or experience, like those of the aged
warrior Durayd b. Zayd b. Nahd when he lay dying:--
"The house of death[147] is builded for Durayd to-day.
Could Time be worn out, sure had I worn Time away.
No single foe but I had faced and brought to bay.
The spoils I gathered in, how excellent were they!
The women that I loved, how fine was their array!"[148]
[Sidenote: Other metres.]
Here would have been the proper place to give an account of the
principal Arabian metres--the 'Perfect' (_Kámil_), the 'Ample' (_Wáfir_)
the 'Long' (_Ṭawíl_), the 'Wide' (_Basiṭ_), the 'Light'
(_Khafíf_), and several more--but in order to save valuable space I must
content myself with referring the reader to the extremely lucid
treatment of this subject by Sir Charles Lyall in the Introduction to
his _Ancient Arabian Poetry_, pp. xlv-lii. All the metres are
quantitative, as in Greek and Latin. Their names and laws were unknown
to the Pre-islamic bards: the rules of prosody were first deduced from
the ancient poems and systematised by the grammarian, Khalíl b. Ahmad (†
791 A.D.), to whom the idea is said to have occurred as he watched a
coppersmith beating time on the anvil with his hammer.
[Sidenote: The oldest extant poems.]
We have now to consider the form and matter of the oldest extant poems
in the Arabic language. Between these highly developed productions and
the rude doggerel of _Saj‘_ or _Rajaz_ there lies an interval, the
length of which it is impossible even to conjecture. The first poets are
already consummate masters of the craft. "The number and complexity of
the measures which they use, their established laws of quantity and
rhyme, and the uniform manner in which they introduce the subject of
their poems,[149] notwithstanding the distance which often separated one
composer from another, all point to a long previous study and
cultivation of the art of expression and the capacities of their
language, a study of which no record now remains."[150]
[Sidenote: Their date.]
It is not improbable that the dawn of the Golden Age of Arabian Poetry
coincided with the first decade of the sixth century after Christ. About
that time the War of Basús, the chronicle of which has preserved a
considerable amount of contemporary verse, was in full blaze; and the
first Arabian ode was composed, according to tradition, by Muhalhil b.
Rabí‘a the Taghlibite on the death of his brother, the chieftain Kulayb,
which caused war to break out between Bakr and Taghlib. At any rate,
during the next hundred years in almost every part of the peninsula we
meet with a brilliant succession of singers, all using the same poetical
dialect and strictly adhering to the same rules of composition. The
fashion which they set maintained itself virtually unaltered down to the
end of the Umayyad period (750 A.D.), and though challenged by some
daring spirits under the ‘Abbásid Caliphate, speedily reasserted its
supremacy, which at the present day is almost as absolute as ever.
[Sidenote: The Qaṣída.]
This fashion centres in the _Qaṣída_,[151] or Ode, the only form, or
rather the only finished type of poetry that existed in what, for want
of a better word, may be called the classical period of Arabic
literature. The verses (_abyát_, singular _bayt_) of which it is built
vary in number, but are seldom less than twenty-five or more than a
hundred; and the arrangement of the rhymes is such that, while the two
halves of the first verse rhyme together, the same rhyme is repeated
once in the second, third, and every following verse to the end of the
poem. Blank-verse is alien to the Arabs, who regard rhyme not as a
pleasing ornament or a "troublesome bondage," but as a vital organ of
poetry. The rhymes are usually feminine, _e.g._, sa_khíná_, tu_líná_,
mu_híná_; mukh_lidí_, _yadí_, ‘uw_wadí_; ri_jámuhá_, si_lámuhá_,
ḥa_rámuhá_. To surmount the difficulties of the monorhyme demands
great technical skill even in a language of which the peculiar formation
renders the supply of rhymes extraordinarily abundant. The longest of
the _Mu‘allaqát_, the so-called 'Long Poems,' is considerably shorter
than Gray's _Elegy_. An Arabian Homer or Chaucer must have condescended
to prose. With respect to metre the poet may choose any except _Rajaz_,
which is deemed beneath the dignity of the Ode, but his liberty does not
extend either to the choice of subjects or to the method of handling
them: on the contrary, the course of his ideas is determined by rigid
conventions which he durst not overstep.
[Sidenote: Ibn Qutayba's account of the contents and divisions of
the Ode.]
"I have heard," says Ibn Qutayba, "from a man of learning that the
composer of Odes began by mentioning the deserted dwelling-places
and the relics and traces of habitation. Then he wept and complained
and addressed the desolate encampment, and begged his companion to
make a halt, in order that he might have occasion to speak of those
who had once lived there and afterwards departed; for the dwellers
in tents were different from townsmen or villagers in respect of
coming and going, because they moved from one water-spring to
another, seeking pasture and searching out the places where rain had
fallen. Then to this he linked the erotic prelude (_nasíb_), and
bewailed the violence of his love and the anguish of separation from
his mistress and the extremity of his passion and desire, so as to
win the hearts of his hearers and divert their eyes towards him and
invite their ears to listen to him, since the song of love touches
men's souls and takes hold of their hearts, God having put it in the
constitution of His creatures to love dalliance and the society of
women, in such wise that we find very few but are attached thereto
by some tie or have some share therein, whether lawful or
unpermitted. Now, when the poet had assured himself of an attentive
hearing, he followed up his advantage and set forth his claim: thus
he went on to complain of fatigue and want of sleep and travelling
by night and of the noonday heat, and how his camel had been reduced
to leanness. And when, after representing all the discomfort and
danger of his journey, he knew that he had fully justified his hope
and expectation of receiving his due meed from the person to whom
the poem was addressed, he entered upon the panegyric (_madíḥ_),
and incited him to reward, and kindled his generosity by exalting
him above his peers and pronouncing the greatest dignity, in
comparison with his, to be little."[152]
Hundreds of Odes answer exactly to this description, which must not,
however, be regarded as the invariable model. The erotic prelude is
often omitted, especially in elegies; or if it does not lead directly to
the main subject, it may be followed by a faithful and minute
delineation of the poet's horse or camel which bears him through the
wilderness with a speed like that of the antelope, the wild ass, or the
ostrich: Bedouin poetry abounds in fine studies of animal life.[153] The
choice of a motive is left open. Panegyric, no doubt, paid better than
any other, and was therefore the favourite; but in Pre-islamic times the
poet could generally please himself. The _qaṣída_ is no organic
whole: rather its unity resembles that of a series of pictures by the
same hand or, to employ an Eastern trope, of pearls various in size and
quality threaded on a necklace.
The ancient poetry may be defined as an illustrative criticism of
Pre-islamic life and thought. Here the Arab has drawn himself at full
length without embellishment or extenuation.
It is not mere chance that Abú Tammám's famous anthology is called the
_Ḥamása_, _i.e._, 'Fortitude,' from the title of its first chapter,
which occupies nearly a half of the book. 'Ḥamása' denotes the
virtues most highly prized by the Arabs--bravery in battle, patience in
misfortune, persistence in revenge, protection of the weak and defiance
of the strong; the will, as Tennyson has said,
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
[Sidenote: The Ideal Arab hero.]
[Sidenote: Shanfará.]
As types of the ideal Arab hero we may take Shanfará of Azd and his
comrade in foray, Ta’abbaṭa Sharran. Both were brigands, outlaws,
swift runners, and excellent poets. Of the former
"it is said that he was captured when a child from his tribe by the
Banú Salámán, and brought up among them: he did not learn his origin
until he had grown up, when he vowed vengeance against his captors,
and returned to his own tribe. His oath was that he would slay a
hundred men of Salámán; he slew ninety-eight, when an ambush of his
enemies succeeded in taking him prisoner. In the struggle one of his
hands was hewn off by a sword stroke, and, taking it in the other,
he flung it in the face of a man of Salámán and killed him, thus
making ninety-nine. Then he was overpowered and slain, with one
still wanting to make up his number. As his skull lay bleaching on
the ground, a man of his enemies passed by that way and kicked it
with his foot; a splinter of bone entered his foot, the wound
mortified, and he died, thus completing the hundred."[154]
The following passage is translated from Shanfará's splendid Ode named
_Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Arab_ (the poem rhymed in _l_ of the Arabs), in which he
describes his own heroic character and the hardships of a predatory
life:--[155]
"And somewhere the noble find a refuge afar from scathe,
The outlaw a lonely spot where no kin with hatred burn.
Oh, never a prudent man, night-faring in hope or fear,
Hard pressed on the face of earth, but still he hath room to turn.
To me now, in your default, are comrades a wolf untired,
A sleek leopard, and a fell hyena with shaggy mane:[156]
True comrades: they ne'er let out the secret in trust with them,
Nor basely forsake their friend because that he brought them bane.
And each is a gallant heart and ready at honour's call,
Yet I, when the foremost charge, am bravest of all the brave;
But if they with hands outstretched are seizing the booty won,
The slowest am I whenas most quick is the greedy knave.
By naught save my generous will I reach to the height of worth
Above them, and sure the best is he with the will to give.
Yea, well I am rid of those who pay not a kindness back,
Of whom I have no delight though neighbours to me they live.
Know are companions three at last: an intrepid soul,
A glittering trenchant blade, a tough bow of ample size,
Loud-twanging, the sides thereof smooth-polished, a handsome bow
Hung down from the shoulder-belt by thongs in a comely wise,
That groans, when the arrow slips away, like a woman crushed
By losses, bereaved of all her children, who wails and cries."
On quitting his tribe, who cast him out when they were threatened on all
sides by enemies seeking vengeance for the blood that he had spilt,
Shanfará said:--
"Bury me not! Me you are forbidden to bury,
But thou, O hyena, soon wilt feast and make merry,
When foes bear away mine head, wherein is the best of me,
And leave on the battle-field for thee all the rest of me.
Here nevermore I hope to live glad--a stranger
Accurst, whose wild deeds have brought his people in danger."[157]
[Sidenote: Ta’abbaṭa Sharran.]
Thábit b. Jábir b. Sufyán of Fahm is said to have got his nickname,
Ta’abbaṭa Sharran, because one day his mother, who had seen him go
forth from his tent with a sword under his arm, on being asked, "Where
is Thábit?" replied, "I know not: he put a mischief under his arm-pit
(_ta’abbaṭa sharran_) and departed." According to another version of
the story, the 'mischief' was a Ghoul whom he vanquished and slew and
carried home in this manner. The following lines, which he addressed to
his cousin, Shams b. Málik, may be applied with equal justice to the
poet himself:--
"Little he complains of labour that befalls him; much he wills;
Diverse ways attempting, mightily his purpose he fulfils.
Through one desert in the sun's heat, through another in starlight,
Lonely as the wild ass, rides he bare-backed Danger noon and night.
He the foremost wind outpaceth, while in broken gusts it blows,
Speeding onward, never slackening, never staying for repose.
Prompt to dash upon the foeman, every minute watching well--
Are his eyes in slumber lightly sealed, his heart stands sentinel.
When the first advancing troopers rise to sight, he sets his hand
From the scabbard forth to draw his sharp-edged, finely-mettled brand.
When he shakes it in the breast-bone of a champion of the foe,
How the grinning Fates in open glee their flashing side-teeth show!
Solitude his chosen comrade, on he fares while overhead
By the Mother of the mazy constellations he is led."[158]
[Sidenote: The old Arabian points of honour.]
These verses admirably describe the rudimentary Arabian virtues of
courage, hardness, and strength. We must now take a wider survey of the
moral ideas on which pagan society was built, and of which Pre-islamic
poetry is at once the promulgation and the record. There was no written
code, no legal or religious sanction--nothing, in effect, save the
binding force of traditional sentiment and opinion, _i.e._, Honour.
What, then, are the salient points of honour in which Virtue
(_Muruwwa_), as it was understood by the heathen Arabs, consists?
[Sidenote: Courage.]
Courage has been already mentioned. Arab courage is like that of the
ancient Greeks, "dependent upon excitement and vanishing quickly before
depression and delay."[159] Hence the Arab hero is defiant and boastful,
as he appears, _e.g._, in the _Mu‘allaqa_ of ‘Amr b. Kulthúm. When there
is little to lose by flight he will ride off unashamed; but he will
fight to the death for his womenfolk, who in serious warfare often
accompanied the tribe and were stationed behind the line of battle.[160]
"When I saw the hard earth hollowed
By our women's flying footprints,
And Lamís her face uncovered
Like the full moon of the skies,
Showing forth her hidden beauties--
Then the matter was grim earnest:
I engaged their chief in combat,
Seeing help no other wise."[161]
The tribal constitution was a democracy guided by its chief men, who
derived their authority from noble blood, noble character, wealth,
wisdom, and experience. As a Bedouin poet has said in homely language--
"A folk that hath no chiefs must soon decay,
And chiefs it hath not when the vulgar sway.
Only with poles the tent is reared at last,
And poles it hath not save the pegs hold fast
But when the pegs and poles are once combined,
Then stands accomplished that which was designed."[162]
[Sidenote: Loyalty.]
The chiefs, however, durst not lay commands or penalties on their
fellow-tribesmen. Every man ruled himself, and was free to rebuke
presumption in others. "_If you are our lord_" (_i.e._, if you act
discreetly as a _sayyid_ should), "_you will lord over us, but if you
are a prey to pride, go and be proud!_" (_i.e._, we will have nothing to
do with you).[163] Loyalty in the mouth of a pagan Arab did not mean
allegiance to his superiors, but faithful devotion to his equals; and it
was closely connected with the idea of kinship. The family and the
tribe, which included strangers living in the tribe under a covenant of
protection--to defend these, individually and collectively, was a sacred
duty. Honour required that a man should stand by his own people through
thick and thin.
"I am of Ghaziyya: if she be in error, then I will err;
And if Ghaziyya be guided right, I go right with her!"
sang Durayd b. Ṣimma, who had followed his kin, against his better
judgment, in a foray which cost the life of his brother ‘Abdulláh.[164]
If kinsmen seek help it should be given promptly, without respect to the
merits of the case; if they do wrong it should be suffered as long as
possible before resorting to violence.[165] The utilitarian view of
friendship is often emphasised, as in these verses:--
Take for thy brother whom thou wilt in the days of peace,
But know that when fighting comes thy kinsman alone is near.
Thy true friend thy kinsman is, who answers thy call for aid
With good will, when deeply drenched in bloodshed are sword and spear.
Oh, never forsake thy kinsman e'en tho' he do thee wrong,
For what he hath marred he mends thereafter and makes sincere."[166]
At the same time, notwithstanding their shrewd common sense, nothing is
more characteristic of the Arabs--heathen and Muḥammadan alike--than
the chivalrous devotion and disinterested self-sacrifice of which they
are capable on behalf of their friends. In particular, the ancient
poetry affords proof that they regarded with horror any breach of the
solemn covenant plighted between patron and client or host and guest.
This topic might be illustrated by many striking examples, but one will
suffice:--
[Sidenote: The story of Samaw’al b. ‘Adiyá.]
The Arabs say: "_Awfá mina ’l-Samaw’ali_"--"More loyal than
al-Samaw’al"; or _Wafáun ka-wafá’i ’l-Samaw’ali_"--" A loyalty like
that of al-Samaw’al." These proverbs refer to Samaw’al b. ‘Adiyá, an
Arab of Jewish descent and Jew by religion, who lived in his castle,
called al-Ablaq (The Piebald), at Taymá, some distance north of
Medína. There he dug a well of sweet water, and would entertain the
Arabs who used to alight beside it; and they supplied themselves
with provisions from his castle and set up a market. It is related
that the poet Imru’u ’l-Qays, while fleeing, hotly pursued by his
enemies, towards Syria, took refuge with Samaw’al, and before
proceeding on his way left in charge of his host five coats of mail
which had been handed down as heirlooms by the princes of his
family. Then he departed, and in due course arrived at
Constantinople, where he besought the Byzantine emperor to help him
to recover his lost kingdom. His appeal was not unsuccessful, but he
died on the way home. Meanwhile his old enemy, the King of Ḥíra,
sent an army under Ḥárith b. Ẓálim against Samaw’al, demanding
that he should surrender the coats of mail. Samaw’al refused to
betray the trust committed to him, and defended himself in his
castle. The besiegers, however, captured his son, who had gone out
to hunt. Ḥárith asked Samaw’al: "Dost thou know this lad?" "Yes,
he is my son." "Then wilt thou deliver what is in thy possession, or
shall I slay him?" Samaw’al answered: "Do with him as thou wilt. I
will never break my pledge nor give up the property of my
guest-friend." So Ḥárith smote the lad with his sword and clove
him through the middle. Then he raised the siege. And Samaw’al said
thereupon:--
"_I was true with the mail-coats of the Kindite,[167]
I am true though many a one is blamed for treason.
Once did ‘Ádiyá, my father, exhort me:
'O Samaw’al, ne'er destroy what I have builded.'
For me built ‘Ádiyá a strong-walled castle
With a well where I draw water at pleasure;
So high, the eagle slipping back is baffled.
When wrong befalls me I endure not tamely._"[168]
The Bedouin ideal of generosity and hospitality is personified in
Ḥátim of Ṭayyi’, of whom many anecdotes are told. We may learn
from the following one how extravagant are an Arab's notions on this
subject:--
[Sidenote: Ḥátim of Ṭayyi’.]
When Ḥátim's mother was pregnant she dreamed that she was asked,
"Which dost thou prefer?--a generous son called Ḥátim, or ten
like those of other folk, lions in the hour of battle, brave lads
and strong of limb?" and that she answered, "Ḥátim." Now, when
Ḥátim grew up he was wont to take out his food, and if he found
any one to share it he would eat, otherwise he threw it away. His
father, seeing that he wasted his food, gave him a slave-girl and a
mare with her foal and sent him to herd the camels. On reaching the
pasture, Ḥátim began to search for his fellows, but none was in
sight; then he came to the road, but found no one there. While he
was thus engaged he descried a party of riders on the road and went
to meet them. "O youth," said they, "hast thou aught to entertain us
withal?" He answered: "Do ye ask me of entertainment when ye see the
camels?" Now, these riders were ‘Abíd b. al-Abras and Bishr b. Abí
Kházim and Nábigha al-Dhubyání, and they were on their way to King
Nu‘mán.[169] Ḥátim slaughtered three camels for them, whereupon
‘Abíd said: "We desired no entertainment save milk, but if thou must
needs charge thyself with something more, a single young she-camel
would have sufficed us." Ḥátim replied: "That I know, but seeing
different faces and diverse fashions I thought ye were not of the
same country, and I wished that each of you should mention what ye
saw, on returning home." So they spoke verses in praise of him and
celebrated his generosity, and Ḥátim said: "I wished to bestow a
kindness upon you, but your bounty is greater than mine. I swear to
God that I will hamstring every camel in the herd unless ye come
forward and divide them among yourselves." The poets did as he
desired, and each man received ninety-nine camels; then they
proceeded on their journey to Nu‘mán. When Ḥátim's father heard
of this he came to him and asked, "Where are the camels?" "O my
father," replied Ḥátim, "by means of them I have conferred on
thee everlasting fame and honour that will cleave to thee like the
ring of the ringdove, and men will always bear in mind some verse of
poetry in which we are praised. This is thy recompense for the
camels." On hearing these words his father said, "Didst thou with my
camels thus?" "Yes." "By God, I will never dwell with thee again."
So he went forth with his family, and Ḥátim was left alone with
his slave-girl and his mare and the mare's foal.[170]
[Sidenote: Ḥátim's daughter before the Prophet.]
We are told that Ḥátim's daughter was led as a captive before the
Prophet and thus addressed him: "'O Muḥammad, my sire is dead, and he
who would have come to plead for me is gone. Release me, if it seem good
to thee, and do not let the Arabs rejoice at my misfortune; for I am the
daughter of the chieftain of my people. My father was wont to free the
captive, and protect those near and dear to him, and entertain the
guest, and satisfy the hungry, and console the afflicted, and give food
and greeting to all; and never did he turn away any who sought a boon. I
am Ḥátim's daughter.' The Prophet (on whom be the blessing and peace
of God) answered her: 'O maiden, the true believer is such as thou hast
described. Had thy father been an Islamite, verily we should have said,
"God have mercy upon him!" Let her go,' he continued, 'for her sire
loved noble manners, and God loves them likewise.'"[171]
Ḥátim was a poet of some repute.[172] The following lines are
addressed to his wife, Máwiyya:--
"O daughter of ‘Abdulláh and Málik and him who wore
The two robes of Yemen stuff--the hero that rode the roan,
When thou hast prepared the meal, entreat to partake thereof
A guest--I am not the man to eat, like a churl, alone--:
Some traveller thro' the night, or house-neighbour; for in sooth
I fear the reproachful talk of men after I am gone.
The guest's slave am I, 'tis true, as long as he bides with me,
Although in my nature else no trait of the slave is shown."[173]
[Sidenote: Position of women.]
[Sidenote: Arabian heroines.]
[Sidenote: Fáṭima daughter of Khurshub.]
[Sidenote: Fukayha.]
Here it will be convenient to make a short digression in order that the
reader may obtain, if not a complete view, at least some glimpses of the
position and influence of women in Pre-islamic society. On the whole,
their position was high and their influence great. They were free to
choose their husbands, and could return, if ill-treated or displeased,
to their own people; in some cases they even offered themselves in
marriage and had the right of divorce. They were regarded not as slaves
and chattels, but as equals and companions. They inspired the poet to
sing and the warrior to fight. The chivalry of the Middle Ages is,
perhaps, ultimately traceable to heathen Arabia. "Knight-errantry, the
riding forth on horseback in search of adventures, the rescue of captive
maidens, the succour rendered everywhere to women in adversity--all
these were essentially Arabian ideas, as was the very name of
_chivalry_, the connection of honourable conduct with the horse-rider,
the man of noble blood, the cavalier."[174] But the nobility of the
women is not only reflected in the heroism and devotion of the men; it
stands recorded in song, in legend, and in history. Fáṭima, the
daughter of Khurshub, was one of three noble matrons who bore the title
_al-Munjibát_, 'the Mothers of Heroes.' She had seven sons, three of
whom, viz., Rabí‘ and ‘Umára and Anas, were called 'the Perfect'
(_al-Kamala_). One day Ḥamal b. Badr the Fazárite raided the Banú
‘Abs, the tribe to which Fáṭima belonged, and made her his prisoner.
As he led away the camel on which she was mounted at the time, she
cried: "Man, thy wits are wandering. By God, if thou take me captive,
and if we leave behind us this hill which is now in front of us, surely
there will never be peace between thee and the sons of Ziyád" (Ziyád was
the name of her husband), "because people will say what they please, and
the mere suspicion of evil is enough." "I will carry thee off," said he,
"that thou mayest herd my camels." When Fáṭima knew that she was
certainly his prisoner she threw herself headlong from her camel and
died; so did she fear to bring dishonour on her sons.[175] Among the
names which have become proverbial for loyalty we find those of two
women, Fukayha and Umm Jamíl. As to Fukayha, it is related that her
clansmen, having been raided by the brigand Sulayk b. Sulaka, resolved
to attack him; but since he was a famous runner, on the advice of one of
their shaykhs they waited until he had gone down to the water and
quenched his thirst, for they knew that he would then be unable to run.
Sulayk, however, seeing himself caught, made for the nearest tents and
sought refuge with Fukayha. She threw her smock over him, and stood with
drawn sword between him and his pursuers; and as they still pressed on,
she tore the veil from her hair and shouted for help. Then her brothers
came and defended Sulayk, so that his life was saved.[176] Had space
allowed, it would have been a pleasant task to make some further
extracts from the long Legend of Noble Women. I have illustrated their
keen sense of honour and loyalty, but I might equally well have chosen
examples of gracious dignity and quick intelligence and passionate
affection. Many among them had the gift of poetry, which they bestowed
especially on the dead; it is a final proof of the high character and
position of women in Pre-islamic Arabia that the hero's mother and
sisters were deemed most worthy to mourn and praise him. The praise of
living women by their lovers necessarily takes a different tone; the
physical charms of the heroine are fully described, but we seldom find
any appreciation of moral beauty. One notable exception to this rule
occurs at the beginning of an ode by Shanfará. The passage defies
translation. It is, to quote Sir Charles Lyall, with whose faithful and
sympathetic rendering of the ancient poetry every student of Arabic
literature should be acquainted, "the most lovely picture of womanhood
which heathen Arabia has left us, drawn by the same hand that has given
us, in the unrivalled _Lâmîyah_, its highest ideal of heroic hardness
and virile strength."[177]
UMAYMA.
"She charmed me, veiling bashfully her face,
Keeping with quiet looks an even pace;
Some lost thing seem to seek her downcast eyes:
Aside she bends not--softly she replies.
Ere dawn she carries forth her meal--a gift
To hungry wives in days of dearth and thrift.
No breath of blame up to her tent is borne,
While many a neighbour's is the house of scorn.
Her husband fears no gossip fraught with shame,
For pure and holy is Umayma's name.
Joy of his heart, to her he need not say
When evening brings him home--'Where passed the day?'
Slender and full in turn, of perfect height,
A very fay were she, if beauty might
Transform a child of earth into a fairy sprite!"[178]
Only in the freedom of the desert could the character thus exquisitely
delineated bloom and ripen. These verses, taken by themselves, are a
sufficient answer to any one who would maintain that Islam has increased
the social influence of Arabian women, although in some respects it may
have raised them to a higher level of civilisation.[179]
[Sidenote: Infanticide.]
There is, of course, another side to all this. In a land where might was
generally right, and where
"the simple plan
That he should take who has the power
And he should keep who can,"
was all but universally adopted, it would have been strange if the
weaker sex had not often gone to the wall. The custom which prevailed in
the _Jáhiliyya_ of burying female infants alive, revolting as it appears
to us, was due partly to the frequent famines with which Arabia is
afflicted through lack of rain, and partly to a perverted sense of
honour. Fathers feared lest they should have useless mouths to feed, or
lest they should incur disgrace in consequence of their daughters being
made prisoners of war. Hence the birth of a daughter was reckoned
calamitous, as we read in the Koran: "_They attribute daughters unto
God--far be it from Him!--and for themselves they desire them not. When
a female child is announced to one of them, his face darkens wrathfully:
he hides himself from his people because of the bad news,
thinking--'Shall I keep the child to my disgrace or cover it away in the
dust?'_"[180] It was said proverbially, "The despatch of daughters is a
kindness" and "The burial of daughters is a noble deed."[181] Islam put
an end to this barbarity, which is expressly forbidden by the Koran:
"_Kill not your children in fear of impoverishment: we will provide for
them and for you: verily their killing was a great sin._"[182] Perhaps
the most touching lines in Arabian poetry are those in which a father
struggling with poverty wishes that his daughter may die before him and
thus be saved from the hard mercies of her relatives:--
THE POOR MAN'S DAUGHTER
"But for Umayma's sake I ne'er had grieved to want nor braved
Night's blackest horror to bring home the morsel that she craved.
Now my desire is length of days because I know too well
The orphan girl's hard lot, with kin unkind enforced to dwell.
I dread that some day poverty will overtake my child,
And shame befall her when exposed to every passion wild.[183]
She wishes me to live, but I must wish her dead, woe's me:
Death is the noblest wooer a helpless maid can see.
I fear an uncle may be harsh, a brother be unkind,
When I would never speak a word that rankled in her mind."[184]
And another says:--
"Were not my little daughters
Like soft chicks huddling by me,
Through earth and all its waters
To win bread would I roam free.
Our children among us going,
Our very hearts they be;
The wind upon them blowing
Would banish sleep from me."[185]
[Sidenote: Treatment of enemies.]
"Odi et amo": these words of the poet might serve as an epitome of
Bedouin ethics. For, if the heathen Arab was, as we have seen, a good
friend to his friends, he had in the same degree an intense and deadly
feeling of hatred towards his enemies. He who did not strike back when
struck was regarded as a coward. No honourable man could forgive an
injury or fail to avenge it. An Arab, smarting under the loss of some
camels driven off by raiders, said of his kin who refused to help him:--
"For all their numbers, they are good for naught,
My people, against harm however light:
They pardon wrong by evildoers wrought,
Malice with loving kindness they requite."[186]
The last verse, which would have been high praise in the mouth of a
Christian or Muḥammadan moralist, conveyed to those who heard it a
shameful reproach. The approved method of dealing with an enemy is set
forth plainly enough in the following lines:--
"Humble him who humbles thee, close tho' be your kindredship:
If thou canst not humble him, wait till he is in thy grip.
Friend him while thou must; strike hard when thou hast him on
the hip."[187]
[Sidenote: Blood-revenge.]