[Sidenote: The nationalisation of Islam.]

The Islam which Muḥammad brought with him to Medína was almost entirely

derived by oral tradition from Christianity and Judaism, and just for

this reason it made little impression on the heathen Arabs, whose

religious ideas were generally of the most primitive kind.

Notwithstanding its foreign character and the absence of anything which

appealed to Arabian national sentiment, it spread rapidly in Medína,

where, as we have seen, the soil was already prepared for it; but one

may well doubt whether it could have extended its sway over the

peninsula unless the course of events had determined Muḥammad to

associate the strange doctrines of Islam with the ancient heathen

sanctuary at Mecca, the Ka‘ba, which was held in universal veneration by

the Arabs and formed the centre of a worship that raised no difficulties

in their minds. Before he had lived many months in Medína the Prophet

realised that his hope of converting the Jews was doomed to

disappointment. Accordingly he instructed his followers that they should

no longer turn their faces in prayer towards the Temple at Jerusalem, as

they had been accustomed to do since the Flight, but towards the Ka‘ba;

while, a year or two later, he incorporated in Islam the superstitious

ceremonies of the pilgrimage, which were represented as having been

originally prescribed to Abraham, the legendary founder of the Ka‘ba,

whose religion he professed to restore.

[Sidenote: Antagonism of Islamic and Arabian ideals.]

These concessions, however, were far from sufficient to reconcile the

free-living and freethinking people of the desert to a religion which

restrained their pleasures, forced them to pay taxes and perform

prayers, and stamped with the name of barbarism all the virtues they

held most dear. The teaching of Islam ran directly counter to the ideals

and traditions of heathendom, and, as Goldziher has remarked, its

originality lies not in its doctrines, which are Jewish and Christian,

but in the fact that it was Muḥammad who first maintained these

doctrines with persistent energy against the Arabian view of life.[340]

While we must refer the reader to Dr. Goldziher's illuminating pages for

a full discussion of the conflict between the new Religion (_Dín_) and

the old Virtue (_Muruwwa_), it will not be amiss to summarise the chief

points at which they clashed with each other.[341] In the first place,

the fundamental idea of Islam was foreign and unintelligible to the

Bedouins. "It was not the destruction of their idols that they opposed

so much as the spirit of devotion which it was sought to implant in

them: the determination of their whole lives by the thought of God and

of His pre-ordaining and retributive omnipotence, the prayers and fasts,

the renouncement of coveted pleasures, and the sacrifice of money and

property which was demanded of them in God's name." In spite of the

saying, _Lá dína illá bi ’l-muruwwati_ ("There is no religion without

virtue"), the Bedouin who accepted Islam had to unlearn the greater part

of his unwritten moral code. As a pious Moslem he must return good for

evil, forgive his enemy, and find balm for his wounded feelings in the

assurance of being admitted to Paradise (Kor. iii, 128). Again, the

social organisation of the heathen Arabs was based on the tribe, whereas

that of Islam rested on the equality and fraternity of all believers.

The religious bond cancelled all distinctions of rank and pedigree; it

did away, theoretically, with clannish feuds, contests for honour, pride

of race--things that lay at the very root of Arabian chivalry. "_Lo_,"

cried Muḥammad, "_the noblest of you in the sight of God is he who most

doth fear Him_" (Kor. xlix, 13). Against such doctrine the conservative

and material instincts of the desert people rose in revolt; and although

they became Moslems _en masse_, the majority of them neither believed in

Islam nor knew what it meant. Often their motives were frankly

utilitarian: they expected that Islam would bring them luck; and so long

as they were sound in body, and their mares had fine foals, and their

wives bore well-formed sons, and their wealth and herds multiplied, they

said, "We have been blessed ever since we adopted this religion," and

were content; but if things went ill they blamed Islam and turned their

backs on it.[342] That these men were capable of religious zeal is amply

proved by the triumphs which they won a short time afterwards over the

disciplined armies of two mighty empires; but what chiefly inspired

them, apart from love of booty, was the conviction, born of success,

that Allah was fighting on their side.

We have sketched, however barely and imperfectly, the progress of Islam

from Muḥammad's first appearance as a preacher to the day of his death.

In these twenty years the seeds were sown of almost every development

which occurs in the political and intellectual history of the Arabs

during the ages to come. More than any man that has ever lived, Muḥammad

shaped the destinies of his people; and though they left him far behind

as they moved along the path of civilisation, they still looked back to

him for guidance and authority at each step. This is not the place to

attempt an estimate of his character, which has been so diversely

judged. Personally, I feel convinced that he was neither a shameless

impostor nor a neurotic degenerate nor a socialistic reformer, but in

the beginning, at all events, a sincere religious enthusiast, as truly

inspired as any prophet of the Old Testament.

[Sidenote: Character of Muḥammad.]

"We find in him," writes De Goeje, "that sober understanding which

distinguished his fellow-tribesmen: dignity, tact, and equilibrium;

qualities which are seldom found in people of morbid constitution:

self-control in no small degree. Circumstances changed him from a

Prophet to a Legislator and a Ruler, but for himself he sought

nothing beyond the acknowledgment that he was Allah's Apostle, since

this acknowledgment includes the whole of Islam. He was excitable,

like every true Arab, and in the spiritual struggle which preceded

his call this quality was stimulated to an extent that alarmed even

himself; but that does not make him a visionary. He defends himself,

by the most solemn asseveration, against the charge that what he had

seen was an illusion of the senses. Why should not we believe

him?"[343]

CHAPTER V

THE ORTHODOX CALIPHATE AND THE UMAYYAD DYNASTY

The Caliphate--_i.e._, the period of the Caliphs or Successors of

Muḥammad--extends over six centuries and a quarter (632-1258 A.D.),

and falls into three clearly-marked divisions of very unequal length and

diverse character.

[Sidenote: The Orthodox Caliphate (632-661 A.D.).]

The first division begins with the election of Abú Bakr, the first

Caliph, in 632, and comes to an end with the assassination of ‘Alí, the

Prophet's son-in-law and fourth successor, in 661. These four Caliphs

are known as the Orthodox (_al-Ráshidún_), because they trod faithfully

in the footsteps of the Prophet and ruled after his example in the holy

city of Medína, with the assistance of his leading Companions, who

constituted an informal Senate.

[Sidenote: The Ummayyad Caliphate (661-750 A.D.).]

The second division includes the Caliphs of the family of Umayya, from

the accession of Mu‘áwiya in 661 to the great battle of the Záb in 750,

when Marwán II, the last of his line, was defeated by the ‘Abbásids, who

claimed the Caliphate as next of kin to the Prophet. According to Moslem

notions the Umayyads were kings by right, Caliphs only by courtesy. They

had, as we shall see, no spiritual title, and little enough religion of

any sort. This dynasty, which had been raised and was upheld by the

Syrian Arabs, transferred the seat of government from Medína to

Damascus.

[Sidenote: The ‘Abbásid Caliphate (750-1258 A.D.).]

The third division is by far the longest and most important. Starting in

750 with the accession of Abu ’l-‘Abbás al-Saffáh, it presents an

unbroken series of thirty-seven Caliphs of the same House, and

culminates, after the lapse of half a millennium, in the sack of

Baghdád, their magnificent capital, by the Mongol Húlágú (January,

1258). The ‘Abbásids were no less despotic than the Umayyads, but in a

more enlightened fashion; for, while the latter had been purely Arab in

feeling, the ‘Abbásids owed their throne to the Persian nationalists,

and were imbued with Persian ideas, which introduced a new and fruitful

element into Moslem civilisation.

[Sidenote: Early Islamic literature.]

From our special point of view the Orthodox and Umayyad Caliphates,

which form the subject of the present chapter, are somewhat barren. The

simple life of the pagan Arabs found full expression in their poetry.

The many-sided life of the Moslems under ‘Abbásid rule may be studied in

a copious literature which exhibits all the characteristics of the age;

but of contemporary documents illustrating the intellectual history of

the early Islamic period comparatively little has been preserved, and

that little, being for the most part anti-Islamic in tendency, gives

only meagre information concerning what excites interest beyond anything

else--the religious movement, the rise of theology, and the origin of

those great parties and sects which emerge, at various stages of

development, in later literature.

[Sidenote: Unity of Church and State.]

Since the Moslem Church and State are essentially one, it is impossible

to treat of politics apart from religion, nor can religious phenomena be

understood without continual reference to political events. The

following brief sketch of the Orthodox Caliphate will show how

completely this unity was realised, and what far-reaching consequences

it had.

[Sidenote: Abú Bakr elected Caliph (June, 632 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Musaylima the Liar.]

That Muḥammad left no son was perhaps of less moment than his neglect

or refusal to nominate a successor. The Arabs were unfamiliar with the

hereditary descent of kingly power, while the idea had not yet dawned of

a Divine right resident in the Prophet's family. It was thoroughly in

accord with Arabian practice that the Moslem community should elect its

own leader, just as in heathen days the tribe chose its own chief. The

likeliest men--all three belonged to Quraysh--were Abú Bakr, whose

daughter ‘Á’isha had been Muḥammad's favourite wife, ‘Umar b.

al-Khaṭṭáb, and ‘Alí, Abú Ṭálib's son and Fáṭima's husband,

who was thus connected with the Prophet by blood as well as by marriage.

Abú Bakr was the eldest, he was supported by ‘Umar, and on him the

choice ultimately fell, though not without an ominous ebullition of

party strife. A man of simple tastes and unassuming demeanour, he had

earned the name _al-Ṣiddíq, _i.e._, the True, by his unquestioning

faith in the Prophet; naturally gentle and merciful, he stood firm when

the cause of Islam was at stake, and crushed with iron hand the revolt

which on the news of Muḥammad's death spread like wildfire through

Arabia. False prophets arose, and the Bedouins rallied round them, eager

to throw off the burden of tithes and prayers. In the centre of the

peninsula, the Banú Ḥanífa were led to battle by Musaylima, who

imitated the early style of the Koran with ludicrous effect, if we may

judge from the sayings ascribed to him, _e.g._, "The elephant, what is

the elephant, and who shall tell you what is the elephant? He has a poor

tail, and a long trunk: and is a trifling part of the creations of thy

God." Moslem tradition calls him the Liar (_al-Kadhdháb_), and

represents him as an obscene miracle-monger, which can hardly be the

whole truth. It is possible that he got some of his doctrines from

Christianity, as Professor Margoliouth has suggested,[344] but we know

too little about them to arrive at any conclusion. After a desperate

struggle Musaylima was defeated and slain by 'the Sword of Allah,'

Khálid b. Walíd. The Moslem arms were everywhere victorious. Arabia

bowed in sullen submission.

[Sidenote: Islam a world-religion.]

[Sidenote: Conquest of Persia and Syria (633-643 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Moslem toleration.]

Although Muir and other biographers of Muḥammad have argued that

Islam was originally designed for the Arabs alone, and made no claim to

universal acceptance, their assertion is contradicted by the unequivocal

testimony of the Koran itself. In one of the oldest Revelations (lxviii,

51-52), we read: "_It wanteth little but that the unbelievers dash thee

to the ground with their looks_ (of anger) _when they hear the Warning_

(_i.e._, the Koran); _and they say, 'He is assuredly mad': but it_ (the

Koran) _is no other than a_ WARNING UNTO ALL CREATURES" (_dhikrun li

’l-‘álamín_).[345] The time had now come when this splendid dream was to

be, in large measure, fulfilled. The great wars of conquest were

inspired by the Prophet's missionary zeal and justified by his example.

Pious duty coincided with reasons of state. "It was certainly good

policy to turn the recently subdued tribes of the wilderness towards an

external aim in which they might at once satisfy their lust for booty on

a grand scale, maintain their warlike feeling, and strengthen themselves

in their attachment to the new faith."[346] The story of their

achievements cannot be set down here. Suffice it to say that within

twelve years after the Prophet's death the Persian Empire had been

reduced to a tributary province, and Syria, together with Egypt, torn

away from Byzantine rule. It must not be supposed that the followers of

Zoroaster and Christ in these countries were forcibly converted to

Islam. Thousands embraced it of free will, impelled by various motives

which we have no space to enumerate; those who clung to the religion in

which they had been brought up secured protection and toleration by

payment of a capitation-tax (_jizya_).[347]

[Sidenote: The Caliph ‘Umar (634-644 A.D.).]

The tide of foreign conquest, which had scarce begun to flow before the

death of Abú Bakr, swept with amazing rapidity over Syria and Persia in

the Caliphate of ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb (634-644), and continued to

advance, though with diminished fury, under the Prophet's third

successor, ‘Uthmán. We may dwell for a little on the noble figure of

‘Umar, who was regarded by good Moslems in after times as an embodiment

of all the virtues which a Caliph ought to possess. Probably his

character has been idealised, but in any case the anecdotes related of

him give an admirable picture of the man and his age. Here are a few,

taken almost at random from the pages of Ṭabarí.

[Sidenote: His simple manners.]

[Sidenote: His sense of personal responsibility.]

[Sidenote: The Caliph as a policeman.]

[Sidenote: His strictness towards his own family.]

[Sidenote: Instructions to his governors.]

One said: "I saw ‘Umar coming to the Festival. He walked with bare

feet, using both hands (for he was ambidextrous) to draw round him a

red embroidered cloth. He towered above the people, as though he

were on horseback."[348] A client of (the Caliph) ‘Uthmán b. ‘Affán

relates that he mounted behind his patron and they rode together to

the enclosure for the beasts which were delivered in payment of the

poor-tax. It was an exceedingly hot day and the simoom was blowing

fiercely. They saw a man clad only in a loin-cloth and a short cloak

(_ridá_), in which he had wrapped his head, driving the camels into

the enclosure. ‘Uthmán said to his companion, "Who is this, think

you?" When they came up to him, behold, it was ‘Umar b.

al-Khaṭṭáb. "By God," said ‘Uthmán, "this is _the strong, the

trusty_."[349]--‘Umar used to go round the markets and recite the

Koran and judge between disputants wherever he found them.--When

Ka‘bu ’l-Aḥbár, a well-known Rabbin of Medína, asked how he could

obtain access to the Commander of the Faithful,[350] he received

this answer: "There is no door nor curtain to be passed; he performs

the rites of prayer, then he takes his seat, and any one that wishes

may speak to him."[351] ‘Umar said in one of his public orations,

"By Him who sent Muḥammad with the truth, were a single camel to

die of neglect on the bank of the Euphrates, I should fear lest God

should call the family of al-Khaṭṭáb" (meaning himself) "to

account therefor."[352]--"If I live," he is reported to have said on

another occasion, "please God, I will assuredly spend a whole year

in travelling among my subjects, for I know they have wants which

are cut short ere they reach my ears: the governors do not bring the

wants of the people before me, while the people themselves do not

attain to me. So I will journey to Syria and remain there two

months, then to Mesopotamia and remain there two months, then to

Egypt and remain there two months, then to Baḥrayn and remain

there two months, then to Kúfa and remain there two months, then to

Baṣra and remain there two months; and by God, it will be a year

well spent!"[353]--One night he came to the house of ‘Abdu

’l-Raḥmán b. ‘Awf and knocked at the door, which was opened by

‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán's wife. "Do not enter," said she, "until I go

back and sit in my place;" so he waited. Then she bade him come in,

and on his asking, "Have you anything in the house?" she fetched him

some food. Meanwhile ‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán was standing by, engaged in

prayer. "Be quick, man!" cried ‘Umar. ‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán immediately

pronounced the final salaam, and turning to the Caliph said: "O

Commander of the Faithful, what has brought you here at this hour?"

‘Umar replied: "A party of travellers who alighted in the

neighbourhood of the market: I was afraid that the thieves of Medína

might fall upon them. Let us go and keep watch." So he set off with

‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán, and when they reached the market-place they

seated themselves on some high ground and began to converse.

Presently they descried, far away, the light of a lamp. "Have not I

forbidden lamps after bedtime?"[354] exclaimed the Caliph. They went

to the spot and found a company drinking wine. "Begone," said ‘Umar

to ‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán; "I know him." Next morning he sent for the

culprit and said, addressing him by name, "Last night you were

drinking wine with your friends." "O Commander of the Faithful, how

did you ascertain that?" "I saw it with my own eyes." "Has not God

forbidden you to play the spy?" ‘Umar made no answer and pardoned

his offence.[355]--When ‘Umar ascended the pulpit for the purpose of

warning the people that they must not do something, he gathered his

family and said to them: "I have forbidden the people to do

so-and-so. Now, the people look at you as birds look at flesh, and I

swear by God that if I find any one of you doing this thing, I will

double the penalty against him."[356]--Whenever he appointed a

governor he used to draw up in writing a certificate of investiture,

which he caused to be witnessed by some of the Emigrants or Helpers.

It contained the following instructions: That he must not ride on

horseback, nor eat white bread, nor wear fine clothes, nor set up a

door between himself and those who had aught to ask of him.[357]--It

was ‘Umar's custom to go forth with his governors, on their

appointment, to bid them farewell. "I have not appointed you," he

would say, "over the people of Muḥammad (God bless him and grant

him peace!) that you may drag them by their hair and scourge their

skins, but in order that you may lead them in prayer and judge

between them with right and divide (the public money) amongst them

with equity. I have not made you lords of their skin and hair. Do

not flog the Arabs lest you humiliate them, and do not keep them

long on foreign service lest you tempt them to sedition, and do not

neglect them lest you render them desperate. Confine yourselves to

the Koran, write few Traditions of Muḥammad (God bless him and

grant him peace!), and I am your ally." He used to permit

retaliation against his governors. On receiving a complaint about

any one of them he confronted him with the accuser, and punished him

if his guilt were proved.[358]

[Sidenote: The Register of ‘Umar.]

It was ‘Umar who first made a Register (_Díwán_) of the Arabs in Islam

and entered them therein according to their tribes and assigned to them

their stipends. The following account of its institution is extracted

from the charming history entitled _al-Fakhrí_:--

In the fifteenth year of the Hijra (636 A.D.) ‘Umar, who was then

Caliph, seeing that the conquests proceeded without interruption and

that the treasures of the Persian monarchs had been taken as spoil,

and that load after load was being accumulated of gold and silver

and precious jewels and splendid raiment, resolved to enrich the

Moslems by distributing all this wealth amongst them; but he did not

know how he should manage it. Now there was a Persian satrap

(_marzubán_) at Medína who, when he saw ‘Umar's bewilderment, said

to him, "O Commander of the Faithful, the Persian kings have a thing

they call a _Díwán_, in which is kept the whole of their revenues

and expenditures without exception; and therein those who receive

stipends are arranged in classes, so that no confusion occurs."

‘Umar's attention was aroused. He bade the satrap describe it, and

on comprehending its nature, he drew up the registers and assigned

the stipends, appointing a specified allowance for every Moslem; and

he allotted fixed sums to the wives of the Apostle (on whom be God's

blessing and peace!) and to his concubines and next-of-kin, until he

exhausted the money in hand. He did not lay up a store in the

treasury. Some one came to him and said: "O Commander of the

Faithful, you should have left something to provide for

contingencies." ‘Umar rebuked him, saying, "The devil has put these

words into your mouth. May God preserve me from their mischief! for

it were a temptation to my successors. Come what may, I will provide

naught except obedience to God and His Apostle. That is our

provision, whereby we have gained that which we have gained." Then,

in respect of the stipends, he deemed it right that precedence

should be according to priority of conversion to Islam and of

service rendered to the Apostle on his fields of battle.[359]

[Sidenote: The aristocracy of Islam.]

[Sidenote: "'Tis only noble to be good."]

Affinity to Muḥammad was also considered. "By God," exclaimed

‘Umar, "we have not won superiority in this world, nor do we hope

for recompense for our works from God hereafter, save through

Muḥammad (God bless him and grant him peace!). He is our title to

nobility, his tribe are the noblest of the Arabs, and after them

those are the nobler that are nearer to him in blood. Truly, the

Arabs are ennobled by God's Apostle. Peradventure some of them have

many ancestors in common with him, and we ourselves are only removed

by a few forbears from his line of descent, in which we accompany

him back to Adam. Notwithstanding this, if the foreigners bring good

works and we bring none, by God, they are nearer to Muḥammad on

the day of Resurrection than we. Therefore let no man regard

affinity, but let him work for that which is in God's hands to

bestow. He that is retarded by his works will not be sped by his

lineage."[360]

It may be said of ‘Umar, not less appropriately than of Cromwell, that

he

"cast the kingdoms old

Into another mould;"

and he too justified the poet's maxim--

"The same arts that did gain

A power, must it maintain."

[Sidenote: Foundation of Baṣra and Kúfa (638 A.D.).]

Under the system which he organised Arabia, purged of infidels, became a

vast recruiting-ground for the standing armies of Islam: the Arabs in

the conquered territories formed an exclusive military class, living in

great camps and supported by revenues derived from the non-Muḥammadan

population. Out of such camps arose two cities destined to make their

mark in literary history--Baṣra (Bassora) on the delta of the Tigris and

Euphrates, and Kúfa, which was founded about the same time on the

western branch of the latter stream, not far from Ḥíra.

[Sidenote: Death of ‘Umar (644 A.D.)]

‘Umar was murdered by a Persian slave named Fírúz while leading the

prayers in the Great Mosque. With his death the military theocracy and

the palmy days of the Patriarchal Caliphate draw to a close. The broad

lines of his character appear in the anecdotes translated above, though

many details might be added to complete the picture. Simple and frugal;

doing his duty without fear or favour; energetic even to harshness, yet

capable of tenderness towards the weak; a severe judge of others and

especially of himself, he was a born ruler and every inch a man. Looking

back on the turmoils which followed his death one is inclined to agree

with the opinion of a saintly doctor who said, five centuries

afterwards, that "the good fortune of Islam was shrouded in the

grave-clothes of ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb."[361]

[Sidenote: ‘Uthmán elected Caliph (644 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: General disaffection.]

[Sidenote: ‘Uthmán murdered (656 A.D.).]

When the Meccan aristocrats accepted Islam, they only yielded to the

inevitable. They were now to have an opportunity of revenging

themselves. ‘Uthmán b. ‘Affán, who succeeded ‘Umar as Caliph, belonged

to a distinguished Meccan family, the Umayyads or descendants of Umayya,

which had always taken a leading part in the opposition to Muḥammad,

though ‘Uthmán himself was among the Prophet's first disciples. He was a

pious, well-meaning old man--an easy tool in the hands of his ambitious

kinsfolk. They soon climbed into all the most lucrative and important

offices and lived on the fat of the land, while too often their ungodly

behaviour gave point to the question whether these converts of the

eleventh hour were not still heathens at heart. Other causes contributed

to excite a general discontent. The rapid growth of luxury and

immorality in the Holy Cities as well as in the new settlements was an

eyesore to devout Moslems. The true Islamic aristocracy, the Companions

of the Prophet, headed by ‘Alí, Ṭalḥa, and Zubayr, strove to undermine

the rival nobility which threatened them with destruction. The factious

soldiery were ripe for revolt against Umayyad arrogance and greed.

Rebellion broke out, and finally the aged Caliph, after enduring a siege

of several weeks, was murdered in his own house. This event marks an

epoch in the history of the Arabs. The ensuing civil wars rent the unity

of Islam from top to bottom, and the wound has never healed.

[Sidenote: ‘Alí elected Caliph (656 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Character of ‘Alí.]

[Sidenote: His apotheosis.]

‘Alí, the Prophet's cousin and son-in-law, who had hitherto remained in

the background, was now made Caliph. Although the suspicion that he was

in league with the murderers may be put aside, he showed culpable

weakness in leaving ‘Uthmán to his fate without an effort to save him.

But ‘Alí had almost every virtue except those of the ruler: energy,

decision, and foresight. He was a gallant warrior, a wise counsellor, a

true friend, and a generous foe. He excelled in poetry and in eloquence;

his verses and sayings are famous throughout the Muḥammadan East, though

few of them can be considered authentic. A fine spirit worthy to be

compared with Montrose and Bayard, he had no talent for the stern

realities of statecraft, and was overmatched by unscrupulous rivals who

knew that "war is a game of deceit." Thus his career was in one sense a

failure: his authority as Caliph was never admitted, while he lived, by

the whole community. On the other hand, he has exerted, down to the

present day, a posthumous influence only second to that of Muḥammad

himself. Within a century of his death he came to be regarded as the

Prophet's successor _jure divino_; as a blessed martyr, sinless and

infallible; and by some even as an incarnation of God. The ‘Alí of

Shí‘ite legend is not an historical figure glorified: rather does he

symbolise, in purely mythical fashion, the religious aspirations and

political aims of a large section of the Moslem world.

[Sidenote: ‘Alí against Mu‘áwiya.]

[Sidenote: Battle of Ṣiffín (657 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Arbitration.]

[Sidenote: The award.]

[Sidenote: The Khárijites revolt against ‘Alí.]

[Sidenote: Alí assassinated (661 A.D.).]

To return to our narrative. No sooner was ‘Alí proclaimed Caliph by the

victorious rebels than Mu‘áwiya b. Abí Sufyán, the governor of Syria,

raised the cry of vengeance for ‘Uthmán and refused to take the oath of

allegiance. As head of the Umayyad family, Mu‘áwiya might justly demand

that the murderers of his kinsman should be punished, but the contest

between him and ‘Alí was virtually for the Caliphate. A great battle was

fought at Ṣiffín, a village on the Euphrates. ‘Alí had well-nigh gained

the day when Mu‘áwiya bethought him of a stratagem. He ordered his

troops to fix Korans on the points of their lances and to shout, "Here

is the Book of God: let it decide between us!" The miserable trick

succeeded. In ‘Alí's army there were many pious fanatics to whom the

proposed arbitration by the Koran appealed with irresistible force. They

now sprang forward clamorously, threatening to betray their leader

unless he would submit his cause to the Book. Vainly did ‘Alí

remonstrate with the mutineers, and warn them of the trap into which

they were driving him, and this too at the moment when victory was

within their grasp. He had no choice but to yield and name as his umpire

a man of doubtful loyalty, Abú Músá al-Ash‘arí, one of the oldest

surviving Companions of the Prophet. Mu‘áwiya on his part named ‘Amr b.

al-‘Áṣ, whose cunning had prompted the decisive manœuvre. When the

umpires came forth to give judgment, Abú Músá rose and in accordance

with what had been arranged at the preliminary conference pronounced

that both ‘Alí and Mu‘áwiya should be deposed and that the people should

elect a proper Caliph in their stead. "Lo," said he, laying down his

sword, "even thus do I depose ‘Alí b. Abí Ṭálib." Then ‘Amr advanced and

spoke as follows: "O people! ye have heard the judgment of my colleague.

He has called you to witness that he deposes ‘Alí. Now I call you to

witness that I confirm Mu‘áwiya, even as I make fast this sword of

mine," and suiting the action to the word, he returned it to its sheath.

It is characteristic of Arabian notions of morality that this impudent

fraud was hailed by Mu‘áwiya's adherents as a diplomatic triumph which

gave him a colourable pretext for assuming the title of Caliph. Both

sides prepared to renew the struggle, but in the meanwhile ‘Alí found

his hands full nearer home. A numerous party among his troops, including

the same zealots who had forced arbitration upon him, now cast him off

because he had accepted it, fell out from the ranks, and raised the

standard of revolt. These 'Outgoers,' or Khárijites, as they were

called, maintained their theocratic principles with desperate courage,

and though often defeated took the field again and again. ‘Alí's plans

for recovering Syria were finally abandoned in 660, when he concluded

peace with Mu‘áwiya, and shortly afterwards he was struck down in the

Mosque at Kúfa, which he had made his capital, by Ibn Muljam, a

Khárijite conspirator.

With ‘Alí's fall our sketch of the Orthodox Caliphate may fitly end. It

was necessary to give some account of these years so vital in the

history of Islam, even at the risk of wearying the reader, who will

perhaps wish that less space were devoted to political affairs.

[Sidenote: The Umayyad dynasty.]

[Sidenote: Moslem tradition hostile to the Umayyads.]

[Sidenote: Mu‘áwiya's clemency.]

[Sidenote: His hours of study.]

The Umayyads came into power, but, except in Syria and Egypt, they ruled

solely by the sword. As descendants and representatives of the pagan

aristocracy, which strove with all its might to defeat Muḥammad, they

were usurpers in the eyes of the Moslem community which they claimed to

lead as his successors.[362] We shall see, a little further on, how this

opposition expressed itself in two great parties: the Shí‘ites or

followers of ‘Alí, and the radical sect of the Khárijites, who have been

mentioned above; and how it was gradually reinforced by the non-Arabian

Moslems until it overwhelmed the Umayyad Government and set up the

‘Abbásids in their place. In estimating the character of the Umayyads

one must bear in mind that the epitaph on the fallen dynasty was

composed by their enemies, and can no more be considered historically

truthful than the lurid picture which Tacitus has drawn of the Emperor

Tiberius. Because they kept the revolutionary forces in check with

ruthless severity, the Umayyads pass for bloodthirsty tyrants; whereas

the best of them at any rate were strong and singularly capable rulers,

bad Moslems and good men of the world, seldom cruel, plain livers if not

high thinkers; who upon the whole stand as much above the ‘Abbásids in

morality as below them in culture and intellect. Mu‘áwiya's clemency was

proverbial, though he too could be stern on occasion. When members of

the house of ‘Alí came to visit him at Damascus, which was now the

capital of the Muḥammadan Empire, he gave them honourable lodging and

entertainment and was anxious to do what they asked; but they (relates

the historian approvingly) used to address him in the rudest terms and

affront him in the vilest manner: sometimes he would answer them with a

jest, and another time he would feign not to hear, and he always

dismissed them with splendid presents and ample donations.[363] "I do

not employ my sword," he said, "when my whip suffices me, nor my whip

when my tongue suffices me; and were there but a single hair (of

friendship) between me and my subjects, I would not let it be

snapped."[364] After the business of the day he sought relaxation in

books. "He consecrated a third part of every night to the history of the

Arabs and their famous battles; the history of foreign peoples, their

kings, and their government; the biographies of monarchs, including

their wars and stratagems and methods of rule; and other matters

connected with Ancient History."[365]

[Sidenote: Ziyád ibn Abíhi.]

Mu‘áwiya's chief henchman was Ziyád, the son of Sumayya (Sumayya being

the name of his mother), or, as he is generally called, Ziyád ibn Abíhi,

_i.e._, 'Ziyád his father's son,' for none knew who was his sire, though

rumour pointed to Abú Sufyán; in which case Ziyád would have been

Mu‘áwiya's half-brother. Mu‘áwiya, instead of disavowing the scandalous

imputation, acknowledged him as such, and made him governor of Baṣra,

where he ruled the Eastern provinces with a rod of iron.

[Sidenote: Yazíd (680-683 A.D.).]

Mu‘áwiya was a crafty diplomatist--he has been well compared to

Richelieu--whose profound knowledge of human nature enabled him to gain

over men of moderate opinions in all the parties opposed to him. Events

were soon to prove the hollowness of this outward reconciliation. Yazíd,

who succeeded his father, was the son of Maysún, a Bedouin woman whom

Mu‘áwiya married before he rose to be Caliph. The luxury of Damascus had

no charm for her wild spirit, and she gave utterance to her feeling of

homesickness in melancholy verse:--

"A tent with rustling breezes cool

Delights me more than palace high,

And more the cloak of simple wool

Than robes in which I learned to sigh.

The crust I ate beside my tent

Was more than this fine bread to me;

The wind's voice where the hill-path went

Was more than tambourine can be.

And more than purr of friendly cat

I love the watch-dog's bark to hear;

And more than any lubbard fat

I love a Bedouin cavalier."[366]

[Sidenote: Ḥusayn marches on Kúfa.]

[Sidenote: Massacre of Ḥusayn and his followers at Karbalá (10th

Muḥarram, 61 A.H. = 10th October, 680 A.D.).]

Mu‘áwiya, annoyed by the contemptuous allusion to himself, took the dame

at her word. She returned to her own family, and Yazíd grew up as a

Bedouin, with the instincts and tastes which belong to the

Bedouins--love of pleasure, hatred of piety, and reckless disregard for

the laws of religion. The beginning of his reign was marked by an event

of which even now few Moslems can speak without a thrill of horror and

dismay. The facts are briefly these: In the autumn of the year 680

Ḥusayn, the son of ‘Alí, claiming to be the rightful Caliph in virtue of

his descent from the Prophet, quitted Mecca with his whole family and a

number of devoted friends, and set out for Kúfa, where he expected the

population, which was almost entirely Shí‘ite, to rally to his cause. It

was a foolhardy adventure. The poet Farazdaq, who knew the fickle temper

of his fellow-townsmen, told Ḥusayn that although their hearts were with

him, their swords would be with the Umayyads; but his warning was given

in vain. Meanwhile ‘Ubaydulláh b. Ziyád, the governor of Kúfa, having

overawed the insurgents in the city and beheaded their leader, Muslim b.

‘Aqíl, who was a cousin of Ḥusayn, sent a force of cavalry with orders

to bring the arch-rebel to a stand. Retreat was still open to him. But

his followers cried out that the blood of Muslim must be avenged, and

Ḥusayn could not hesitate. Turning northward along the Euphrates, he

encamped at Karbalá with his little band, which, including the women and

children, amounted to some two hundred souls. In this hopeless situation

he offered terms which might have been accepted if Shamir b. Dhi

’l-Jawshan, a name for ever infamous and accursed, had not persuaded

‘Ubaydulláh to insist on unconditional surrender. The demand was

refused, and Ḥusayn drew up his comrades--a handful of men and boys--for

battle against the host which surrounded them. All the harrowing details

invented by grief and passion can scarcely heighten the tragedy of the

closing scene. It would appear that the Umayyad officers themselves

shrank from the odium of a general massacre, and hoped to take the

Prophet's grandson alive. Shamir, however, had no such scruples. Chafing

at delay, he urged his soldiers to the assault. The unequal struggle was

soon over. Ḥusayn fell, pierced by an arrow, and his brave followers

were cut down beside him to the last man.

[Sidenote: Differing views of Muḥammadan and European writers.]

[Sidenote: The Umayyads judged by Islam.]

[Sidenote: Character of Yazíd.]

Muḥammadan tradition, which with rare exceptions is uniformly hostile to

the Umayyad dynasty, regards Ḥusayn as a martyr and Yazíd as his

murderer; while modern historians, for the most part, agree with Sir W.

Muir, who points out that Ḥusayn, "having yielded himself to a

treasonable, though impotent design upon the throne, was committing an

offence that endangered society and demanded swift suppression." This

was naturally the view of the party in power, and the reader must form

his own conclusion as to how far it justifies the action which they

took. For Moslems the question is decided by the relation of the

Umayyads to Islam. Violators of its laws and spurners of its ideals,

they could never be anything but tyrants; and being tyrants, they had no

right to slay believers who rose in arms against their usurped

authority. The so-called verdict of history, when we come to examine it,

is seen to be the verdict of religion, the judgment of theocratic Islam

on Arabian Imperialism. On this ground the Umayyads are justly

condemned, but it is well to remember that in Moslem eyes the

distinction between Church and State does not exist. Yazíd was a bad

Churchman: therefore he was a wicked tyrant; the one thing involves the

other. From our unprejudiced standpoint, he was an amiable prince who

inherited his mother's poetic talent, and infinitely preferred wine,

music, and sport to the drudgery of public affairs. The Syrian Arabs,

who recognised the Umayyads as legitimate, thought highly of him:

"Jucundissimus," says a Christian writer, "et cunctis nationibus regni

ejus subditis vir gratissime habitus, qui nullam unquam, ut omnibus

moris est, sibi regalis fastigii causa gloriam appetivit, sed communis

cum omnibus civiliter vixit."[367] He deplored the fate of the women and

children of Ḥusayn's family, treated them with every mark of respect,

and sent them to Medína, where their account of the tragedy added fresh

fuel to the hatred and indignation with which its authors were generally

regarded.

The Umayyads had indeed ample cause to rue the day of Karbalá. It gave

the Shí‘ite faction a rallying-cry--"Vengeance for Ḥusayn!"--which was

taken up on all sides, and especially by the Persian _Mawálí_, or

Clients, who longed for deliverance from the Arab yoke. Their

amalgamation with the Shí‘a--a few years later they flocked in thousands

to the standard of Mukhtár--was an event of the utmost historical

importance, which will be discussed when we come to speak of the

Shí‘ites in particular.

[Sidenote: Medína and Mecca desecrated (682-3 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Rebellion of Mukhtár (685-6 A.D.).]

The slaughter of Ḥusayn does not complete the tale of Yazíd's

enormities. Medína, the Prophet's city, having expelled its Umayyad

governor, was sacked by a Syrian army, while Mecca itself, where

‘Abdulláh b. Zubayr had set up as rival Caliph, was besieged, and the

Ka‘ba laid in ruins. These outrages, shocking to Moslem sentiment,

kindled a flame of rebellion. Ḥusayn was avenged by Mukhtár, who seized

Kúfa and executed some three hundred of the guilty citizens, including

the miscreant Shamir. His troops defeated and slew ‘Ubaydulláh b. Ziyád,

but he himself was slain, not long afterwards, by Mus‘ab, the brother of

Ibn Zubayr, and seven thousand of his followers were massacred in cold

blood. On Yazíd's death (683) the Umayyad Empire threatened to fall to

pieces. As a contemporary poet sang--

"Now loathed of all men is the Fury blind

Which blazeth as a fire blown by the wind.

They are split in sects: each province hath its own

Commander of the Faithful, each its throne."[368]

[Sidenote: Civil war renewed.]

[Sidenote: Rivalry of Northern and Southern Arabs.]

Fierce dissensions broke out among the Syrian Arabs, the backbone of the

dynasty. The great tribal groups of Kalb and Qays, whose coalition had

hitherto maintained the Umayyads in power, fought on opposite sides at

Marj Ráhiṭ (684), the former for Marwán and the latter for Ibn Zubayr.

Marwán's victory secured the allegiance of Syria, but henceforth Qays

and Kalb were always at daggers drawn.[369] This was essentially a feud

between the Northern and the Southern Arabs--a feud which rapidly

extended and developed into a permanent racial enmity. They carried it

with them to the farthest ends of the world, so that, for example, after

the conquest of Spain precautions had to be taken against civil war by

providing that Northerners and Southerners should not settle in the same

districts. The literary history of this antagonism has been sketched by

Dr. Goldziher with his wonted erudition and acumen.[370] Satire was, of

course, the principal weapon of both sides. Here is a fragment by a

Northern poet which belongs to the Umayyad period:--

"Negroes are better, when they name their sires,

Than Qaḥṭán's sons,[371] the uncircumcisèd cowards:

A folk whom thou mayst see, at war's outflame,

More abject than a shoe to tread in baseness;

Their women free to every lecher's lust,

Their clients spoil for cavaliers and footmen."[372]

Thus the Arab nation was again torn asunder by the old tribal

pretensions which Muḥammad sought to abolish. That they ultimately

proved fatal to the Umayyads is no matter for surprise; the sorely

pressed dynasty was already tottering, its enemies were at its gates. By

good fortune it produced at this crisis an exceptionally able and

vigorous ruler, ‘Abdu ’l-Malik b. Marwán, who not only saved his house

from destruction, but re-established its supremacy and inaugurated a

more brilliant epoch than any that had gone before.

[Sidenote: ‘Abdu ’l-Malik and his successors.]

[Sidenote: Reforms of ‘Abdu ’l-Malik.]

[Sidenote: The writing of Arabic.]

[Sidenote: Ḥajjáj b. Yúsuf († 714 A.D.).]

‘Abdu ’l-Malik succeeded his father in 685, but required seven years of

hard fighting to make good his claim to the Caliphate. When his most

formidable rival, Ibn Zubayr, had fallen in battle (692), the eastern

provinces were still overrun by rebels, who offered a desperate

resistance to the governor of ‘Iráq, the iron-handed Ḥajjáj. But

enough of bloodshed. Peace also had her victories during the troubled

reign of ‘Abdu ’l-Malik and the calmer sway of his successors. Four of

the next five Caliphs were his own sons--Walíd (705-715), Sulaymán

(715-717), Yazíd II (720-724), and Hishám (724-743); the fifth, ‘Umar

II, was the son of his brother, ‘Abdu ’l-‘Azíz. For the greater part of

this time the Moslem lands enjoyed a well-earned interval of repose and

prosperity, which mitigated, though it could not undo, the frightful

devastation wrought by twenty years of almost continuous civil war. Many

reforms were introduced, some wholly political in character, while

others inspired by the same motives have, none the less, a direct

bearing on literary history. ‘Abdu ’l-Malik organised an excellent

postal service, by means of relays of horses, for the conveyance of

despatches and travellers; he substituted for the Byzantine and Persian

coins, which had hitherto been in general use, new gold and silver

pieces, on which be caused sentences from the Koran to be engraved; and

he made Arabic, instead of Greek or Persian, the official language of

financial administration. Steps were taken, moreover, to improve the

extremely defective Arabic script, and in this way to provide a sound

basis for the study and interpretation of the Koran as well as for the

collection of _ḥadíths_ or sayings of the Prophet, which form an

indispensable supplement thereto. The Arabic alphabet, as it was then

written, consisted entirely of consonants, so that, to give an

illustration from English, _bnd_ might denote _band_, _bend_, _bind_, or

_bond_; _crt_ might stand for _cart_, _carat_, _curt_, and so on. To an

Arab this ambiguity mattered little; far worse confusion arose from the

circumstance that many of the consonants themselves were exactly alike:

thus, _e.g._, it was possible to read the same combination of three

letters as _bnt_, _nbt_, _byt_, _tnb_, _ntb_, _nyb_, and in various

other ways. Considering the difficulties of the Arabic language, which

are so great that a European aided by scientific grammars and

unequivocal texts will often find himself puzzled even when he has

become tolerably familiar with it, one may imagine that the Koran was

virtually a sealed book to all but a few among the crowds of foreigners

who accepted Islam after the early conquests. ‘Abdu’l-Malik's viceroy

in ‘Iráq, the famous Ḥajjáj, who began life as a schoolmaster,

exerted himself to promote the use of vowel-marks (borrowed from the

Syriac) and of the diacritical points placed above or below similar

consonants. This extraordinary man deserves more than a passing mention.

A stern disciplinarian, who could be counted upon to do his duty without

any regard to public opinion, he was chosen by ‘Abdu ’l-Malik to besiege

Mecca, which Ibn Zubayr was holding as anti-Caliph. Ḥajjáj bombarded

the city, defeated the Pretender, and sent his head to Damascus. Two

years afterwards he became governor of ‘Iráq. Entering the Mosque at

Kúfa, he mounted the pulpit and introduced himself to the assembled

townsmen in these memorable words:--

[Sidenote: His service to literature.]

"I am he who scattereth the darkness and climbeth o'er the summits.

When I lift the turban from my face, ye will know me.[373]

"O people of Kúfa! I see heads that are ripe for cutting, and I am the

man to do it; and methinks, I see blood between the turbans and

beards."[374] The rest of his speech was in keeping with the

commencement. He used no idle threats, as the malcontents soon found

out. Rebellion, which had been rampant before his arrival, was rapidly

extinguished. "He restored order in ‘Iráq and subdued its people."[375]

For twenty years his despotic rule gave peace and security to the

Eastern world. Cruel he may have been, though the tales of his

bloodthirstiness are beyond doubt grossly exaggerated, but it should be

put to his credit that he established and maintained the settled

conditions which afford leisure for the cultivation of learning. Under

his protection the Koran and Traditions were diligently studied both in

Kúfa and Baṣra, where many Companions of the Prophet had made their

home: hence arose in Baṣra the science of Grammar, with which, as we

shall see in a subsequent page, the name of that city is peculiarly

associated. Ḥajjáj shared the literary tastes of his sovereign; he

admired the old poets and patronised the new; he was a master of terse

eloquence and plumed himself on his elegant Arabic style. The most hated

man of his time, he lives in history as the savage oppressor and butcher

of God-fearing Moslems. He served the Umayyads well and faithfully, and

when he died in 714 A.D. he left behind him nothing but his Koran, his

arms, and a few hundred pieces of silver.

[Sidenote: Walíd (705-715 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Moslem conquests in the East.]

[Sidenote: Conquest of Spain (711-713 A.D.).]

It was a common saying at Damascus that under Walíd people talked of

fine buildings, under Sulaymán of cookery and the fair sex, while in the

reign of ‘Umar b. ‘Abd al-‘Azíz the Koran and religion formed favourite

topics of conversation.[376] Of Walíd's passion for architecture we have

a splendid monument in the Great Mosque of Damascus (originally the

Cathedral of St. John), which is the principal sight of the city to this

day. He spoke Arabic very incorrectly, and though his father rebuked

him, observing that "in order to rule the Arabs one must be proficient

in their language," he could never learn to express himself with

propriety.[377] The unbroken peace which now prevailed within the Empire

enabled Walíd to resume the work of conquest. In the East his armies

invaded Transoxania, captured Bokhárá and Samarcand, and pushed forward

to the Chinese frontier. Another force crossed the Indus and penetrated

as far as Múltán, a renowned centre of pilgrimage in the Southern

Punjaub, which fell into the hands of the Moslems after a prolonged

siege. But the most brilliant advance, and the richest in its results,

was that in the extreme West, which decided the fate of Spain. Although

the Moslems had obtained a footing in Northern Africa some thirty years

before this time, their position was always precarious, until in 709

Músá b. Nuṣayr completely subjugated the Berbers, and extended not only

the dominion but also the faith of Islam to the Atlantic Ocean. Two

years later his freedman Ṭáriq crossed the straits and took possession

of the commanding height, called by the ancients Calpe, but henceforth

known as Jabal Ṭáriq (Gibraltar). Roderic, the last of the West Gothic

dynasty, gathered an army in defence of his kingdom, but there were

traitors in the camp, and, though he himself fought valiantly, their

defection turned the fortunes of the day. The king fled, and it was

never ascertained what became of him. Ṭáriq, meeting with feeble

resistance, marched rapidly on Toledo, while Músá, whose jealousy was

excited by the triumphal progress of his lieutenant, now joined in the

campaign, and, storming city after city, reached the Pyrenees. The

conquest of Spain, which is told by Moslem historians with many romantic

circumstances, marks the nearest approach that the Arabs ever made to

World-Empire. Their advance on French soil was finally hurled back by

Charles the Hammer's great victory at Tours (732 A.D.).

[Sidenote: ‘Umar b. ‘Abd al-‘Azíz (717-720 A.D.).]

Before taking leave of the Umayyads we must not forget to mention ‘Umar

b. ‘Abd al-‘Azíz, a ruler who stands out in singular contrast with his

predecessors, and whose brief reign is regarded by many Moslems as the

sole bright spot in a century of godless and bloodstained tyranny. There

had been nothing like it since the days of his illustrious namesake and

kinsman,[378] ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb, and we shall find nothing like it in

the future history of the Caliphate. Plato desired that every king

should be a philosopher: according to Muḥammadan theory every Caliph

ought to be a saint. ‘Umar satisfied these aspirations. When he came to

the throne the following dialogue is said to have occurred between him

and one of his favourites, Sálim al-Suddí:--

‘Umar: "Are you glad on account of my accession, or sorry?"

Sálim: "I am glad for the people's sake, but sorry for yours."

‘Umar: "I fear that I have brought perdition upon my soul."

Sálim: "If you are afraid, very good. I only fear that you may

cease to be afraid."

‘Umar: "Give me a word of counsel."

Sálim: "Our father Adam was driven forth from Paradise because

of one sin."[379]

Poets and orators found no favour at his court, which was thronged by

divines and men of ascetic life.[380] He warned his governors that they

must either deal justly or go. He would not allow political

considerations to interfere with his ideal of righteousness, but, as

Wellhausen points out, he had practical ends in view: his piety made him

anxious for the common weal no less than for his own salvation. Whether

he administered the State successfully is a matter of dispute. It has

been generally supposed that his financial reforms were Utopian in

character and disastrous to the Exchequer.[381] However this may be, he

showed wisdom in seeking to bridge the menacing chasm between Islam and

the Imperial house. Thus, _e.g._, he did away with the custom which had

long prevailed of cursing ‘Alí from the pulpit at Friday prayers. The

policy of conciliation was tried too late, and for too short a space, to

be effective; but it was not entirely fruitless. When, on the overthrow

of the Umayyad dynasty, the tombs of the hated 'tyrants' were defiled

and their bodies disinterred, ‘Umar's grave alone was respected, and

Mas‘údí († 956 A.D.) tells us that in his time it was visited by crowds

of pilgrims.

[Sidenote: Hishám and Walíd II.]

The remaining Umayyads do not call for particular notice. Hishám ranks

as a statesman with Mu‘áwiya and ‘Abdu ’l-Malik: the great ‘Abbásid

Caliph, Manṣúr, is said to have admired and imitated his methods of

government.[382] Walíd II was an incorrigible libertine, whose songs

celebrating the forbidden delights of wine have much merit. The eminent

poet and freethinker, Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí, quotes these verses by

him[383]:--

[Sidenote: Verses by Walíd II (743-4 A.D.).]

"The Imám Walíd am I! In all my glory

Of trailing robes I listen to soft lays.

When proudly I sweep on towards her chamber,

I care not who inveighs.

There's no true joy but lending ear to music,

Or wine that leaves one sunk in stupor dense.

Houris in Paradise I do not look for:

Does any man of sense?"

Let us now turn from the monarchs to their subjects.

[Sidenote: Political and religious movements of the period.]

In the first place we shall speak of the political and religious

parties, whose opposition to the Umayyad House gradually undermined its

influence and in the end brought about its fall. Some account will be

given of the ideas for which these parties fought and of the causes of

their discontent with the existing _régime_. Secondly, a few words must

be said of the theological and more purely religious sects--the

Mu‘tazilites, Murjites, and Ṣúfís; and, lastly, of the extant

literature, which is almost exclusively poetical, and its leading

representatives.

[Sidenote: The Arabs of ‘Iráq.]

The opposition to the Umayyads was at first mainly a question of

politics. Mu‘áwiya's accession announced the triumph of Syria over

‘Iráq, and Damascus, instead of Kúfa, became the capital of the Empire.

As Wellhausen observes, "the most powerful risings against the Umayyads

proceeded from ‘Iráq, not from any special party, but from the whole

mass of the Arabs settled there, who were united in resenting the loss

of their independence (_Selbstherrlichkeit_) and in hating those into

whose hands it had passed."[384] At the same time these feelings took a

religious colour and identified themselves with the cause of Islam. The

new government fell lamentably short of the theocratic standard by which

it was judged. Therefore it was evil, and (according to the Moslem's

conception of duty) every right-thinking man must work for its

destruction.

Among the myriads striving for this consummation, and so far making

common cause with each other, we can distinguish four principal classes.

[Sidenote: Parties opposed to the Umayyad government.]

(1) The religious Moslems, or Pietists, in general, who formed a wing of

the Orthodox Party.[385]

(2) The Khárijites, who may be described as the Puritans and extreme

Radicals of theocracy.

(3) The Shí‘ites, or partisans of ‘Alí and his House.

(4) The Non-Arabian Moslems, who were called _Mawálí_ (Clients).

[Sidenote: The Pietists.]

It is clear that the Pietists--including divines learned in the law,

reciters of the Koran, Companions of the Prophet and their

descendants--could not but abominate the secular authority which they

were now compelled to obey. The conviction that Might, in the shape of

the tyrant and his minions, trampled on Right as represented by the

Koran and the _Sunna_ (custom of Muḥammad) drove many into active

rebellion: five thousand are said to have perished in the sack of Medína

alone. Others again, like Ḥasan of Baṣra, filled with profound despair,

shut their eyes on the world, and gave themselves up to asceticism, a

tendency which had important consequences, as we shall see.

[Sidenote: The Khárijites.]

[Sidenote: Battle of Nahrawán (658 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Khárijite risings.]

When ‘Alí, on the field of Ṣiffín, consented that the claims of Mu‘áwiya

and himself to the Caliphate should be decided by arbitration, a large

section of his army accused him of having betrayed his trust. He, the

duly elected Caliph--so they argued--should have maintained the dignity

of his high office inviolate at all costs. On the homeward march the

malcontents, some twelve thousand in number, broke away and encamped by

themselves at Ḥarúrá, a village near Kúfa. Their cry was, "God alone can

decide" (_lá ḥukma illá lilláhi_): in these terms they protested against

the arbitration. ‘Alí endeavoured to win them back, but without any

lasting success. They elected a Caliph from among themselves, and

gathered at Nahrawán, four thousand strong. On the appearance of ‘Alí

with a vastly superior force many of the rebels dispersed, but the

remainder--about half--preferred to die for their faith. Nahrawán was to

the Khárijites what Karbalá afterwards became to the Shí‘ites, who from

this day were regarded by the former as their chief enemies. Frequent

Khárijite risings took place during the early Umayyad period, but the

movement reached its zenith in the years of confusion which followed

Yazíd's death. The Azraqites, so called after their leader, Náfi‘ b.

al-Azraq, overran ‘Iráq and Southern Persia, while another sect, the

Najdites, led by Najda b. ‘Ámir, reduced the greater part of Arabia to

submission. The insurgents held their ground for a long time against

‘Abdu ’l-Malik, and did not cease from troubling until the rebellion

headed by Shabíb was at last stamped out by Ḥajjáj in 697.

[Sidenote: Meaning of 'Khárijite.']

[Sidenote: Their political theories.]

It has been suggested that the name _Khárijí_ (plural, _Khawárij_)

refers to a passage in the Koran (iv, 101) where mention is made of

"those who go forth (_yakhruj_) from their homes as emigrants

(_muhájiran_) to God and His Messenger"; so that 'Khárijite' means 'one

who leaves his home among the unbelievers for God's sake,' and

corresponds to the term _Muhájir_, which was applied to the Meccan

converts who accompanied the Prophet in his migration to Medína.[386]

Another name by which they are often designated is likewise Koranic in

origin, viz., _Shurát_ (plural of _Shárin_): literally 'Sellers'--that

is to say, those who sell their lives and goods in return for

Paradise.[387] The Khárijites were mostly drawn from the Bedouin

soldiery who settled in Baṣra and Kúfa after the Persian wars. Civil

life wrought little change in their unruly temper. Far from

acknowledging the peculiar sanctity of a Qurayshite, they desired a

chief of their own blood whom they might obey, in Bedouin fashion, as

long as he did not abuse or exceed the powers conferred upon him.[388]

The mainspring of the movement, however, was pietistic, and can be

traced, as Wellhausen has shown, to the Koran-readers who made it a

matter of conscience that ‘Alí should avow his contrition for the fatal

error which their own temporary and deeply regretted infatuation had

forced him to commit. They cast off ‘Alí for the same reason which led

them to strike at ‘Uthman: in both cases they were maintaining the cause

of God against an unjust Caliph.[389] It is important to remember these

facts in view of the cardinal Khárijite doctrines (1) that every free

Arab was eligible as Caliph,[390] and (2) that an evil-doing Caliph must

be deposed and, if necessary, put to death. Mustawrid b. ‘Ullifa, the

Khárijite 'Commander of the Faithful,' wrote to Simák b. ‘Ubayd, the

governor of Ctesiphon, as follows: "We call you to the Book of God

Almighty and Glorious, and to the _Sunna_ (custom) of the Prophet--on

whom be peace!--and to the administration of Abú Bakr and ‘Umar--may God

be well pleased with them!--and to renounce ‘Uthmán and ‘Alí because

they corrupted the true religion and abandoned the authority of the

Book."[391] From this it appears that the Khárijite programme was simply

the old Islam of equality and fraternity, which had never been fully

realised and was now irretrievably ruined. Theoretically, all devout

Moslems shared in the desire for its restoration and condemned the

existing Government no less cordially than did the Khárijites. What

distinguished the latter party was the remorseless severity with which

they carried their principles into action. To them it was absolutely

vital that the Imám, or head of the community, should rule in the name

and according to the will of God: those who followed any other sealed

their doom in the next world: eternal salvation hung upon the choice of

a successor to the Prophet. Moslems who refused to execrate ‘Uthmán and

‘Alí were the worst of infidels; it was the duty of every true believer

to take part in the Holy War against such, and to kill them, together

with their wives and children. These atrocities recoiled upon the

insurgents, who soon found themselves in danger of extermination. Milder

counsels began to prevail. Thus the Ibáḍites (followers of ‘Abdulláh b.

Ibáḍ) held it lawful to live amongst the Moslems and mix with them on

terms of mutual tolerance. But compromise was in truth incompatible with

the _raison d'être_ of the Khárijites, namely, to establish the kingdom

of God upon the earth. This meant virtual anarchy: "their unbending

logic shattered every constitution which it set up." As ‘Alí remarked,

"they say, 'No government' (_lá imára_), but there must be a government,

good or bad."[392] Nevertheless, it was a noble ideal for which they

fought in pure devotion, having, unlike the other political parties, no

worldly interests to serve.

[Sidenote: Their religion.]

The same fierce spirit of fanaticism moulded their religious views,

which were gloomy and austere, as befitted the chosen few in an ungodly

world. Shahrastání, speaking of the original twelve thousand who

rebelled against ‘Alí, describes them as 'people of fasting and prayer'

(_ahlu ṣiyámin wa-ṣalátin_).[393] The Koran ruled their lives and

possessed their imaginations, so that the history of the early Church,

the persecutions, martyrdoms, and triumphs of the Faith became a

veritable drama which was being enacted by themselves. The fear of hell

kindled in them an inquisitorial zeal for righteousness. They

scrupulously examined their own belief as well as that of their

neighbours, and woe to him that was found wanting! A single false step

involved excommunication from the pale of Islam, and though the slip

might be condoned on proof of sincere repentance, any Moslem who had

once committed a mortal sin (_kabíra_) was held, by the stricter

Khárijites at least, to be inevitably damned with the infidels in

everlasting fire.

[Sidenote: Khárijite poetry.]

Much might be written, if space allowed, concerning the wars of the

Khárijites, their most famous chiefs, the points on which they

quarrelled, and the sects into which they split. Here we can only

attempt to illustrate the general character of the movement. We have

touched on its political and religious aspects, and shall now conclude

with some reference to its literary side. The Khárijites did not produce

a Milton or a Bunyan, but as Arabs of Bedouin stock they had a natural

gift of song, from which they could not be weaned; although, according

to the strict letter of the Koran, poetry is a devilish invention

improper for the pious Moslem to meddle with. But these are poems of a

different order from the pagan odes, and breathe a stern religious

enthusiasm that would have gladdened the Prophet's heart. Take, for

example, the following verses, which were made by a Khárijite in

prison:--[394]

"'Tis time, O ye Sellers, for one who hath sold himself

To God, that he should arise and saddle amain.

Fools! in the land of miscreants will ye abide,

To be hunted down, every man of you, and to be slain?

O would that I were among you, armèd in mail,

On the back of my stout-ribbed galloping war-horse again!

And would that I were among you, fighting your foes,

That me, first of all, they might give death's beaker to drain!

It grieves me sore that ye are startled and chased

Like beasts, while I cannot draw on the wretches profane

My sword, nor see them scattered by noble knights

Who never yield an inch of the ground they gain,

But where the struggle is hottest, with keen blades hew

Their strenuous way and deem 'twere base to refrain.

Ay, it grieves me sore that ye are oppressed and wronged,

While I must drag in anguish a captive's chain."

[Sidenote: Qaṭarí b. al-Fujá’a.]

Qaṭarí b. al-Fujá’a, the intrepid Khárijite leader who routed army

after army sent against him by Ḥajjáj, sang almost as well as he

fought. The verses rendered below are included in the _Ḥamása_[395]

and cited by Ibn Khallikán, who declares that they would make a brave

man of the greatest coward in the world. "I know of nothing on the

subject to be compared with them; they could only have proceeded from a

spirit that scorned disgrace and from a truly Arabian sentiment of

valour."[396]

"I say to my soul dismayed--

'Courage! Thou canst not achieve,

With praying, an hour of life

Beyond the appointed term.

Then courage on death's dark field,

Courage! Impossible 'tis

To live for ever and aye.

Life is no hero's robe

Of honour: the dastard vile

Also doffs it at last.'"

[Sidenote: The Shí‘ites.]

[Sidenote: The theory of Divine Right.]

The murder of ‘Uthmán broke the Moslem community, which had hitherto

been undivided, into two _shí‘as_, or parties--one for ‘Alí and the

other for Mu‘áwiya. When the latter became Caliph he was no longer a

party leader, but head of the State, and his _shí‘a_ ceased to exist.

Henceforth 'the Shí‘a' _par excellence_ was the party of ‘Alí, which

regarded the House of the Prophet as the legitimate heirs to the

succession. Not content, however, with upholding ‘Alí, as the worthiest

of the Prophet's Companions and the duly elected Caliph, against his

rival, Mu‘áwiya, the bolder spirits took up an idea, which emerged about

this time, that the Caliphate belonged to ‘Alí and his descendants by

Divine right. Such is the distinctive doctrine of the Shí‘ites to the

present day. It is generally thought to have originated in Persia, where

the Sásánian kings used to assume the title of 'god' (Pahlaví _bagh_)

and were looked upon as successive incarnations of the Divine majesty.

[Sidenote: Dozy's account of its origin.]

"Although the Shí‘ites," says Dozy, "often found themselves under

the direction of Arab leaders, who utilised them in order to gain

some personal end, they were nevertheless a Persian sect at bottom;

and it is precisely here that the difference most clearly showed

itself between the Arab race, which loves liberty, and the Persian

race, accustomed to slavish submission. For the Persians, the

principle of electing the Prophet's successor was something unheard

of and incomprehensible. The only principle which they recognised

was that of inheritance, and since Muḥammad left no sons, they

thought that his son-in-law ‘Alí should have succeeded him, and that

the sovereignty was hereditary in his family. Consequently, all the

Caliphs except ‘Alí--_i.e._, Abú Bakr, ‘Umar, and ‘Uthmán, as well

as the Umayyads--were in their eyes usurpers to whom no obedience

was due. The hatred which they felt for the Government and for Arab

rule confirmed them in this opinion; at the same time they cast

covetous looks on the wealth of their masters. Habituated, moreover,

to see in their kings the descendants of the inferior divinities,

they transferred this idolatrous veneration to ‘Alí and his

posterity. Absolute obedience to the Imám of ‘Alí's House was in

their eyes the most important duty; if that were fulfilled all the

rest might be interpreted allegorically and violated without

scruple. For them the Imám was everything; he was God made man. A

servile submission accompanied by immorality was the basis of their

system."[397]

[Sidenote: The Saba’ites.]

[Sidenote: Doctrine of Ibn Sabá.]

Now, the Shí‘ite theory of Divine Right certainly harmonised with

Persian ideas, but was it also of Persian origin? On the contrary, it

seems first to have arisen among an obscure Arabian sect, the Saba’ites,

whose founder, ‘Abdulláh b. Sabá (properly, Saba’), was a native of

Ṣan‘á in Yemen, and is said to have been a Jew.[398] In ‘Uthmán's time

he turned Moslem and became, apparently, a travelling missionary. "He

went from place to place," says the historian, "seeking to lead the

Moslems into error."[399] We hear of him in the Ḥijáz, then in Baṣra and

Kúfa, then in Syria. Finally he settled in Egypt, where he preached the

doctrine of palingenesis (_raj‘a_). "It is strange indeed," he

exclaimed, "that any one should believe in the return of Jesus (as

Messias), and deny the return of Muḥammad, which God has announced (Kor.

xxviii, 85).[400] Furthermore, there are a thousand Prophets, every one

of whom has an executor (_waṣí_), and the executor of Muḥammad is

‘Alí.[401] Muḥammad is the last of the Prophets, and ‘Alí is the last of

the executors." Ibn Sabá, therefore, regarded Abú Bakr, ‘Umar, and

‘Uthmán as usurpers. He set on foot a widespread conspiracy in favour of

‘Alí, and carried on a secret correspondence with the disaffected in

various provinces of the Empire.[402] According to Shahrastání, he was

banished by ‘Alí for saying, "Thou art thou" (_anta anta_), _i.e._,

"Thou art God."[403] This refers to the doctrine taught by Ibn Sabá and

the extreme Shí‘ites (_Ghulát_) who derive from him, that the Divine

Spirit which dwells in every prophet and passes successively from one to

another was transfused, at Muḥammad's death, into ‘Alí, and from ‘Alí

into his descendants who succeeded him in the Imámate. The Saba’ites

also held that the Imám might suffer a temporary occultation (_ghayba_),

but that one day he would return and fill the earth with justice. They

believed the millennium to be near at hand, so that the number of Imáms

was at first limited to four. Thus the poet Kuthayyir († 723 A.D.)

says:--

"Four complete are the Imáms

‘Alí and his three good sons,

One was faithful and devout;

One, until with waving flags

Dwells on Mount Raḍwá, concealed:

of Quraysh, the lords of Right:

each of them a shining light.

Karbalá hid one from sight;

his horsemen he shall lead to fight,

honey he drinks and water bright."[404]

[Sidenote: The Mahdí or Messiah.]

The Messianic idea is not peculiar to the Shí‘ites, but was brought into

Islam at an early period by Jewish and Christian converts, and soon

established itself as a part of Muḥammadan belief. Traditions ascribed

to the Prophet began to circulate, declaring that the approach of the

Last Judgment would be heralded by a time of tumult and confusion, by

the return of Jesus, who would slay the Antichrist (_Dajjál_), and

finally by the coming of the Mahdí, _i.e._, 'the God-guided one,' who

would fill the earth with justice even as it was then filled with

violence and iniquity. This expectation of a Deliverer descended from

the Prophet runs through the whole history of the Shí‘a. As we have

seen, their supreme religious chiefs were the Imáms of ‘Alí's House,

each of whom transmitted his authority to his successor. In the course

of time disputes arose as to the succession. One sect acknowledged only

seven legitimate Imáms, while another carried the number to twelve. The

last Imám of the 'Seveners' (_al-Sab‘iyya_), who are commonly called

Ismá‘ílís, was Muḥammad b. Ismá‘íl, and of the 'Twelvers'

(_al-Ithná-‘ashariyya_) Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan.[405] Both those personages

vanished mysteriously about 770 and 870 A.D., and their respective

followers, refusing to believe that they were dead, asserted that their

Imám had withdrawn himself for a season from mortal sight, but that he

would surely return at last as the promised Mahdí. It would take a long

while to enumerate all the pretenders and fanatics who have claimed this

title.[406] Two of them founded the Fáṭimid and Almohade dynasties,

which we shall mention elsewhere, but they generally died on the gibbet

or the battle-field. The ideal which they, so to speak, incarnated did

not perish with them. Mahdiism, the faith in a divinely appointed

revolution which will sweep away the powers of evil and usher in a

Golden Age of justice and truth such as the world has never known, is a

present and inspiring fact which deserves to be well weighed by those

who doubt the possibility of an Islamic Reformation.

[Sidenote: Shí‘ite gatherings at Karbalá.]

The Shí‘a began as a political faction, but it could not remain so for

any length of time, because in Islam politics always tend to take

religious ground, just as the successful religious reformer invariably

becomes a ruler. The Saba’ites furnished the Shí‘ite movement with a

theological basis; and the massacre of Ḥusayn, followed by Mukhtár's

rebellion, supplied the indispensable element of enthusiasm. Within a

few years after the death of Ḥusayn his grave at Karbalá was already a

place of pilgrimage for the Shí‘ites. When the 'Penitents'

(_al-Tawwábún_) revolted in 684 they repaired thither and lifted their

voices simultaneously in a loud wail, and wept, and prayed God that He

would forgive them for having deserted the Prophet's grandson in his

hour of need. "O God!" exclaimed their chief, "have mercy on Ḥusayn, the

Martyr and the son of a Martyr, the Mahdí and the son of a Mahdí, the

Ṣiddíq and the son of a Ṣiddíq![407] O God! we bear witness that we

follow their religion and their path, and that we are the foes of their

slayers and the friends of those who love them."[408] Here is the germ

of the _ta‘ziyas_, or Passion Plays, which are acted every year on the

10th of Muḥarram, wherever Shí‘ites are to be found.

[Sidenote: Mukhtár.]

But the Moses of the Shí‘a, the man who showed them the way to victory

although he did not lead them to it, is undoubtedly Mukhtár. He came

forward in the name of ‘Alí's son, Muḥammad, generally known as Ibnu

’l-Ḥanafiyya after his mother. Thus he gained the support of the Arabian

Shí‘ites, properly so called, who were devoted to ‘Alí and his House,

and laid no stress upon the circumstance of descent from the Prophet,

whereas the Persian adherents of the Shí‘a made it a vital matter, and

held accordingly that only the sons of ‘Alí by his wife Fáṭima were

fully qualified Imáms. Raising the cry of vengeance for Ḥusayn, Mukhtár

carried this party also along with him. In 686 he found himself master

of Kúfa. Neither the result of his triumph nor the rapid overthrow of

his power concerns us here, but something must be said about the aims

and character of the movement which he headed.

[Sidenote: The _Mawálí_ of Kúfa.]

"More than half the population of Kúfa was composed of _Mawálí_

(Clients), who monopolised handicraft, trade, and commerce. They

were mostly Persians in race and language; they had come to Kúfa as

prisoners of war and had there passed over to Islam: then they were

manumitted by their owners and received as clients into the Arab

tribes, so that they now occupied an ambiguous position

(_Zwitterstellung_), being no longer slaves, but still very

dependent on their patrons; needing their protection, bound to their

service, and forming their retinue in peace and war. In these

_Mawálí_, who were entitled by virtue of Islam to more than the

'dominant Arabism' allowed them, the hope now dawned of freeing

themselves from clientship and of rising to full and direct

participation in the Moslem state."[409]

[Sidenote: Mukhtár and the _Mawálí_.]

[Sidenote: Persian influence on the Shí‘a.]

Mukhtár, though himself an Arab of noble family, trusted the _Mawálí_

and treated them as equals, a proceeding which was bitterly resented by

the privileged class. "You have taken away our clients who are the booty

which God bestowed upon us together with this country. We emancipated

them, hoping to receive the Divine recompense and reward, but you would

not rest until you made them sharers in our booty."[410] Mukhtár was

only giving the _Mawálí_ their due--they were Moslems and had the right,

as such, to a share in the revenues. To the haughty Arabs, however, it

appeared a monstrous thing that the despised foreigners should be placed

on the same level with themselves. Thus Mukhtár was thrown into the arms

of the _Mawálí_, and the movement now became not so much anti-Umayyad as

anti-Arabian. Here is the turning-point in the history of the Shí‘a. Its

ranks were swelled by thousands of Persians imbued with the extreme

doctrines of the Saba’ites which have been sketched above, and animated

by the intense hatred of a downtrodden people towards their conquerors

and oppressors. Consequently the Shí‘a assumed a religious and

enthusiastic character, and struck out a new path which led it farther

and farther from the orthodox creed. The doctrine of 'Interpretation'

(_Ta’wíl_) opened the door to all sorts of extravagant ideas. One of the

principal Shí‘ite sects, the Háshimiyya, held that "there is an esoteric

side to everything external, a spirit to every form, a hidden meaning

(_ta’wíl_) to every revelation, and to every similitude in this world a

corresponding reality in the other world; that ‘Alí united in his own

person the knowledge of all mysteries and communicated it to his son

Muḥammad Ibnu ’l-Ḥanafiyya, who passed it on to his son Abú Háshim; and

that the possessor of this universal knowledge is the true Imám."[411]

So, without ceasing to be Moslems in name, the Shí‘ites transmuted Islam

into whatever shape they pleased by virtue of a mystical interpretation

based on the infallible authority of the House of Muḥammad, and out of

the ruins of a political party there gradually arose a great religious

organisation in which men of the most diverse opinions could work

together for deliverance from the Umayyad yoke. The first step towards

this development was made by Mukhtár, a versatile genius who seems to

have combined the parts of political adventurer, social reformer,

prophet, and charlatan. He was crushed and his Persian allies were

decimated, but the seed which he had sown bore an abundant harvest when,

sixty years later, Abú Muslim unfurled the black standard of the

‘Abbásids in Khurásán.

[Sidenote: The oldest theological sects.]

Concerning the origin of the oldest theological sects in Islam, the

Murjites and the Mu‘tazilites, we possess too little contemporary

evidence to make a positive statement. It is probable that the latter at

any rate arose, as Von Kremer has suggested, under the influence of

Greek theologians, especially John of Damascus and his pupil, Theodore

Abucara (Abú Qurra), the Bishop of Ḥarrán.[412] Christians were freely

admitted to the Umayyad court. The Christian al-Akhṭal was

poet-laureate, while many of his co-religionists held high offices in

the Government. Moslems and Christians exchanged ideas in friendly

discussion or controversially. Armed with the hair-splitting weapons of

Byzantine theology, which they soon learned to use only too well, the

Arabs proceeded to try their edge on the dogmas of Islam.

[Sidenote: The Murjites.]

The leading article of the Murjite creed was this, that no one who

professed to believe in the One God could be declared an infidel,

whatever sins he might commit, until God Himself had given judgment

against him.[413] The Murjites were so called because they deferred

(_arja’a_ = to defer) their decision in such cases and left the sinner's

fate in suspense, so long as it was doubtful.[414] This principle they

applied in different ways. For example, they refused to condemn ‘Alí and

‘Uthmán outright, as the Khárijites did. "Both ‘Alí and ‘Uthmán," they

said, "were servants of God, and by God alone must they be judged; it is

not for us to pronounce either of them an infidel, notwithstanding that

they rent the Moslem people asunder."[415] On the other hand, the

Murjites equally rejected the pretensions made by the Shí‘ites on behalf

of ‘Alí and by the Umayyads on behalf of Mu‘áwiya. For the most part

they maintained a neutral attitude towards the Umayyad Government: they

were passive resisters, content, as Wellhausen puts it, "to stand up for

the impersonal Law." Sometimes, however, they turned the principle of

toleration against their rulers. Thus Ḥárith b. Surayj and other Arabian

Murjites joined the oppressed _Mawálí_ of Khurásán to whom the

Government denied those rights which they had acquired by

conversion.[416] According to the Murjite view, these Persians, having

professed Islam, should no longer be treated as tax-paying infidels. The

Murjites brought the same tolerant spirit into religion. They set faith

above works, emphasised the love and goodness of God, and held that no

Moslem would be damned everlastingly. Some, like Jahm b. Ṣafwán, went so

far as to declare that faith (_ímán_) was merely an inward conviction: a

man might openly profess Christianity or Judaism or any form of unbelief

without ceasing to be a good Moslem, provided only that he acknowledged

Allah with his heart.[417] The moderate school found their most

illustrious representative in Abú Ḥanífa († 767 A.D.), and through this

great divine--whose followers to-day are counted by millions--their

liberal doctrines were diffused and perpetuated.

[Sidenote: The Mu‘tazilites.]

During the Umayyad period Baṣra was the intellectual capital of Islam,

and in that city we find the first traces of a sect which maintained the

principle that thought must be free in the search for truth. The origin

of the Mu‘tazilites (_al-Mu‘tazila_), as they are generally called,

takes us back to the famous divine and ascetic, Ḥasan of Baṣra (†728

A.D.). One day he was asked to give his opinion on a point regarding

which the Murjites and the Khárijites held opposite views, namely,

whether those who had committed a great sin should be deemed believers

or unbelievers. While Ḥasan was considering the question, one of his

pupils, Wáṣil b. ‘Aṭá (according to another tradition, ‘Amr b. ‘Ubayd)

replied that such persons were neither believers nor unbelievers, but

should be ranked in an intermediate state. He then turned aside and

began to explain the grounds of his assertion to a group which gathered

about him in a different part of the mosque. Ḥasan said: "Wáṣil has

separated himself from us" (_i‘tazala ‘anná_); and on this account the

followers of Wáṣil were named 'Mu‘tazilites,' _i.e._, Schismatics.

Although the story may not be literally true, it is probably safe to

assume that the new sect originated in Baṣra among the pupils of

Ḥasan,[418] who was the life and soul of the religious movement of the

first century A.H. The Mu‘tazilite heresy, in its earliest form, is

connected with the doctrine of Predestination. On this subject the Koran

speaks with two voices. Muḥammad was anything but a logically exact and

consistent thinker. He was guided by the impulse of the moment, and

neither he nor his hearers perceived, as later Moslems did, that the

language of the Koran is often contradictory. Thus in the present

instance texts which imply the moral responsibility of man for his

actions--_e.g._, "_Every soul is in pledge_ (with God) _for what it hath

wrought_"[419]; "_Whoso does good benefits himself, and whoso does evil

does it against himself_"[420]--stand side by side with others which

declare that God leads men aright or astray, as He pleases; that the

hearts of the wicked are sealed and their ears made deaf to the truth;

and that they are certainly doomed to perdition. This fatalistic view

prevailed in the first century of Islam, and the dogma of Predestination

was almost universally accepted. Ibn Qutayba, however, mentions the

names of twenty-seven persons who held the opinion that men's actions

are free.[421] Two among them, Ma‘bad al-Juhaní and Abú Marwán Ghaylán,

who were put to death by ‘Abdu ’l-Malik and his son Hishám, do not

appear to have been condemned as heretics, but rather as enemies of the

Umayyad Government.[422] The real founder of the Mu‘tazilites was Wáṣil

b. ‘Aṭá († 748 A.D.),[423] who added a second cardinal doctrine to that

of free-will. He denied the existence of the Divine attributes--Power,

Wisdom, Life, &c.--on the ground that such qualities, if conceived as

eternal, would destroy the Unity of God. Hence the Mu‘tazilites called

themselves 'the partisans of Unity and Justice' (_Ahlu’l-tawḥíd

wa-’l-‘adl_): of Unity for the reason which has been explained, and of

Justice, because they held that God was not the author of evil and that

He would not punish His creatures except for actions within their

control. The further development of these Rationalistic ideas belongs to

the ‘Abbásid period and will be discussed in a subsequent chapter.

[Sidenote: Growth of asceticism.]

[Sidenote: Ḥasan of Baṣra.]

The founder of Islam had too much human nature and common sense to

demand of his countrymen such mortifying austerities as were practised

by the Jewish Essenes and the Christian monks. His religion was not

without ascetic features, _e.g._, the Fast of Ramaḍán, the prohibition

of wine, and the ordinance of the pilgrimage, but these can scarcely be

called unreasonable. On the other hand Muḥammad condemned celibacy not

only by his personal example but also by precept. "There is no monkery

in Islam," he is reported to have said, and there was in fact nothing of

the kind for more than a century after his death. During this time,

however, asceticism made great strides. It was the inevitable outcome of

the Muḥammadan conception of Allah, in which the attributes of mercy and

love are overshadowed by those of majesty, awe, and vengeance. The

terrors of Judgment Day so powerfully described in the Koran were

realised with an intensity of conviction which it is difficult for us to

imagine. As Goldziher has observed, an exaggerated consciousness of sin

and the dread of Divine punishment gave the first impulse to Moslem

asceticism. Thus we read that Tamím al-Dárí, one of the Prophet's

Companions, who was formerly a Christian, passed the whole night until

daybreak, repeating a single verse of the Koran (xlv, 20)--"_Do those

who work evil think that We shall make them even as those who believe

and do good, so that their life and death shall be equal? Ill do they

judge!_"[424] Abu ’l-Dardá, another of the Companions, used to say: "If

ye knew what ye shall see after death, ye would not eat food nor drink

water from appetite, and I wish that I were a tree which is lopped and

then devoured."[425] There were many who shared these views, and their

determination to renounce the world and to live solely for God was

strengthened by their disgust with a tyrannical and impious Government,

and by the almost uninterrupted spectacle of bloodshed, rapine, and

civil war. Ḥasan of Baṣra († 728)--we have already met him in connection

with the Mu‘tazilites--is an outstanding figure in this early ascetic

movement, which proceeded on orthodox lines.[426] Fear of God seized on

him so mightily that, in the words of his biographer, "it seemed as

though Hell-fire had been created for him alone."[427] All who looked on

his face thought that he must have been recently overtaken by some great

calamity.[428] One day a friend saw him weeping and asked him the cause.

"I weep," he replied, "for fear that I have done something unwittingly

and unintentionally, or committed some fault, or spoken some word which

is unpleasing to God: then He may have said, 'Begone, for now thou hast

no more honour in My court, and henceforth I will not receive anything

from thee.'"[429] Al-Mubarrad relates that two monks, coming from Syria,

entered Baṣra and looked at Ḥasan, whereupon one said to the other, "Let

us turn aside to visit this man, whose way of life appears like that of

the Messiah." So they went, and they found him supporting his chin on

the palm of his hand, while he was saying--"How I marvel at those who

have been ordered to lay in a stock of provisions and have been summoned

to set out on a journey, and yet the foremost of them stays for the

hindermost! Would that I knew what they are waiting for!"[430] The

following utterances are characteristic:--

"God hath made fasting a hippodrome (place or time of training) for

His servants, that they may race towards obedience to Him.[431] Some

come in first and win the prize, while others are left behind and

return disappointed; and by my life, if the lid were removed, the

well-doer would be diverted by his well-doing, and the evildoer by

his evil-doing, from wearing new garments or from anointing his

hair."[432]

"You meet one of them with white skin and delicate complexion,

speeding along the path of vanity: he shaketh his hips and clappeth

his sides and saith, 'Here am I, recognise me!' Yes, we recognise

thee, and thou art hateful to God and hateful to good men."[433]

"The bounties of God are too numerous to be acknowledged unless with

His help, and the sins of Man are too numerous for him to escape

therefrom unless God pardon them."[434]

"The wonder is not how the lost were lost, but how the saved were

saved."[435]

"Cleanse ye these hearts (by meditation and remembrance of God), for

they are quick to rust; and restrain ye these souls, for they desire

eagerly, and if ye restrain them not, they will drag you to an evil

end."[436]

[Sidenote: Ḥasan of Baṣra not a genuine Ṣúfí.]

The Ṣúfís, concerning whom we shall say a few words presently, claim

Ḥasan as one of themselves, and with justice in so far as he attached

importance to spiritual righteousness, and was not satisfied with merely

external acts of devotion. "A grain of genuine piety," he declared, "is

better than a thousandfold weight of fasting and prayer."[437] But

although some of his sayings which are recorded in the later biographies

lend colour to the fiction that he was a full-blown Ṣúfí, there can be

no doubt that his mysticism--if it deserves that name--was of the most

moderate type, entirely lacking the glow and exaltation which we find in

the saintly woman, Rábi‘a al-‘Adawiyya, with whom legend associates

him.[438]

[Sidenote: The derivation of 'Ṣúfí.']

[Sidenote: The beginnings of Ṣúfiism.]

The origin of the name 'Ṣúfí' is explained by the Ṣúfís themselves in

many different ways, but of the derivations which have been proposed

only three possess any claim to consideration, viz., those which connect

it with σοφός (wise) or with _ṣafá_ (purity) or with _ṣúf_ (wool).[439]

The first two are inadmissible on linguistic grounds, into which

we need not enter, though it may be remarked that the derivation

from _ṣafá_ is consecrated by the authority of the Ṣúfí Saints, and is

generally accepted in the East.[440] The reason for this preference

appears in such definitions as "The Ṣúfí is he who keeps his heart pure

(_ṣáfí_) with God,"[441] "Ṣúfiism is 'the being chosen for purity'

(_iṣṭifá_): whoever is thus chosen and made pure from all except God is

the true Ṣúfí."[442] Understood in this sense, the word had a lofty

significance which commended it to the elect. Nevertheless it can be

tracked to a quite humble source. Woollen garments were frequently worn

by men of ascetic life in the early times of Islam in order (as Ibn

Khaldún says) that they might distinguish themselves from those who

affected a more luxurious fashion of dress. Hence the name 'Ṣúfí,' which

denotes in the first instance an ascetic clad in wool (_ṣúf_), just as

the Capuchins owed their designation to the hood (_cappuccio_) which

they wore. According to Qushayrí, the term came into common use before

the end of the second century of the Hijra (= 815 A.D.). By this time,

however, the ascetic movement in Islam had to some extent assumed a new

character, and the meaning of 'Ṣúfí,' if the word already existed, must

have undergone a corresponding change. It seems to me not unlikely that

the epithet in question marks the point of departure from orthodox

asceticism and that, as Jámí states, it was first applied to Abú Háshim

of Kúfa (_ob._ before 800 _A.D._), who founded a monastery (_khánaqáh_)

for Ṣúfís at Ramla in Palestine. Be that as it may, the distinction

between asceticism (_zuhd_) and Ṣúfiism--a distinction which answers,

broadly speaking, to the _via purgativa_ and the _via illuminativa_ of

Western mediæval mysticism--begins to show itself before the close of

the Umayyad period, and rapidly develops in the early ‘Abbásid age under

the influence of foreign ideas and, in particular, of Greek philosophy.

Leaving this later development to be discussed in a subsequent chapter,

we shall now briefly consider the origin of Ṣúfiism properly so called

and the first manifestation of the peculiar tendencies on which it is

based.

As regards its origin, we cannot do better than quote the observations

with which Ibn Khaldún († 1406 A.D.) introduces the chapter on Ṣúfiism

in the Prolegomena to his great historical work:--

[Sidenote: Ibn Khaldún's account of the origin of Ṣúfiism.]

"This is one of the religious sciences which were born in Islam. The

way of the Ṣúfís was regarded by the ancient Moslems and their

illustrious men--the Companions of the Prophet (_al-Ṣaḥába_),

the Successors (_al-Tábi‘ún_), and the generation which came after

them--as the way of Truth and Salvation. To be assiduous in piety,

to give up all else for God's sake, to turn away from worldly gauds

and vanities, to renounce pleasure, wealth, and power, which are the

general objects of human ambition, to abandon society and to lead in

seclusion a life devoted solely to the service of God--these were

the fundamental principles of Ṣúfiism which prevailed among the

Companions and the Moslems of old time. When, however, in the second

generation and afterwards worldly tastes became widely spread, and

men no longer shrank from such contamination, those who made piety

their aim were distinguished by the title of _Ṣúfís_ or

_Mutaṣawwifa_ (aspirants to Ṣúfiism).[443]

[Sidenote: The earliest form of Ṣúfiism.]

From this it is clear that Ṣúfiism, if not originally identical with

the ascetic revolt of which, as we have seen, Ḥasan of Baṣra was

the most conspicuous representative, at any rate arose out of that

movement. It was not a speculative system, like the Mu‘tazilite heresy,

but a practical religion and rule of life. "We derived Ṣúfiism," said

Junayd, "from fasting and taking leave of the world and breaking

familiar ties and renouncing what men deem good; not from disputation"

(_qíl wa-qál_).[444] The oldest Ṣúfís were ascetics and hermits, but

they were also something more. They brought out the spiritual and

mystical element in Islam, or brought it in, if they did not find it

there already.

[Sidenote: The difference between asceticism and Ṣúfiism.]

"Ṣúfiism," says Suhrawardí,[445] "is neither 'poverty' (_faqr_) nor

asceticism (_zuhd_), but a term which comprehends the ideas of both,

together with something besides. Without these superadded qualities a

man is not a Ṣúfí, though he may be an ascetic (_záhid_) or a fakír

(_faqír_). It is said that, notwithstanding the excellence of 'poverty,'

the end thereof is only the beginning of Ṣúfiism." A little further

on he explains the difference thus:--

"The fakír holds fast to his 'poverty' and is profoundly convinced

of its superior merit. He prefers it to riches because he longs for

the Divine recompense of which his faith assures him ... and whenever

he contemplates the everlasting reward, he abstains from the

fleeting joys of this world and embraces poverty and indigence and

fears that if he should cease to be 'poor' he will lose both the

merit and the prize. Now this is absolutely unsound according to the

doctrine of the Ṣúfís, because he hopes for recompense and

renounces the world on that account, whereas the Ṣúfí does not

renounce it for the sake of promised rewards but, on the contrary,

for the sake of present 'states,' for he is the 'son of his

time.'...[446] The theory that 'poverty' is the foundation of

Ṣúfiism signifies that the diverse stages of Ṣúfiism are

reached by the road of 'poverty'; it does not imply that the Ṣúfí

is essentially a fakír."

[Sidenote: The early Ṣúfís.]

The keynote of Ṣúfiism is disinterested, selfless devotion, in a

word, Love. Though not wholly strange, this idea was very far from being

familiar to pious Muḥammadans, who were more deeply impressed by the

power and vengeance of God than by His goodness and mercy. The Koran

generally represents Allah as a stern, unapproachable despot, requiring

utter submission to His arbitrary will, but infinitely unconcerned with

human feelings and aspirations. Such a Being could not satisfy the

religious instinct, and the whole history of Ṣúfiism is a protest

against the unnatural divorce between God and Man which this conception

involves. Accordingly, I do not think that we need look beyond Islam for

the origin of the Ṣúfí doctrines, although it would be a mistake not

to recognise the part which Christian influence must have had in shaping

their early development. The speculative character with which they

gradually became imbued, and which in the course of time completely

transformed them, was more or less latent during the Umayyad period and

for nearly a century after the accession of the House of ‘Abbás. The

early Ṣúfís are still on orthodox ground: their relation to Islam is

not unlike that of the mediæval Spanish mystics to the Roman Catholic

Church. They attach extraordinary value to certain points in

Muḥammad's teaching and emphasise them so as to leave the others

almost a dead letter. They do not indulge in profound dialectic, but

confine themselves to matters bearing on practical theology.

Self-abandonment, rigorous self-mortification, fervid piety, and

quietism carried to the verge of apathy form the main features of their

creed.

[Sidenote: Ibráhím b. Adham.]

A full and vivid picture of early Ṣúfiism might be drawn from the

numerous biographies in Arabic and Persian, which supply abundant

details concerning the manner of life of these Muḥammadan Saints, and

faithfully record their austerities, visions, miracles, and sayings.

Here we have only space to add a few lines about the most important

members of the group--Ibráhím b. Adham, Abú ‘Alí Shaqíq, Fuḍayl b.

‘Iyáḍ, and Rábi‘a--all of whom died between the middle and end of the

second century after the Hijra (767-815 A.D.). Ibráhím belonged to the

royal family of Balkh. Forty scimitars of gold and forty maces of gold

were borne in front of him and behind. One day, while hunting, he heard

a voice which cried, "Awake! wert thou created for this?" He exchanged

his splendid robes for the humble garb and felt cap of a shepherd, bade

farewell to his kingdom, and lived for nine years in a cave near

Naysábúr.[447] His customary prayer was, "O God, uplift me from the

shame of disobedience to the glory of submission unto Thee!"

"O God!" he said, "Thou knowest that the Eight Paradises are little

beside the honour which Thou hast done unto me, and beside Thy love,

and beside Thy giving me intimacy with the praise of Thy name, and

beside the peace of mind which Thou hast given me when I meditate on

Thy majesty." And again: "You will not attain to righteousness until

you traverse six passes (_‘aqabát_): the first is that you shut the

door of pleasure and open the door of hardship; the second, that you

shut the door of eminence and open the door of abasement; the third,

that you shut the door of ease and open the door of affliction; the

fourth, that you shut the door of sleep and open the door of

wakefulness; the fifth, that you shut the door of riches and open

the door of poverty; and the sixth, that you shut the door of

expectation and open the door of making yourself ready for death."

[Sidenote: Shaqíq of Balkh.]

[Sidenote: Fuḍayl b. ‘Iyáḍ.]

[Sidenote: Rábi‘a al-‘Adawiyya.]

Shaqíq, also of Balkh, laid particular stress on the duty of leaving

one's self entirely in God's hands (_tawakkul_), a term which is

practically synonymous with passivity; _e.g._, the _mutawakkil_ must

make no effort to obtain even the barest livelihood, he must not ask for

anything, nor engage in any trade: his business is with God alone. One

of Shaqíq's sayings was, "Nine-tenths of devotion consist in flight from

mankind, the remaining tenth in silence." Similarly, Fuḍayl b.

‘Iyáḍ, a converted captain of banditti, declared that "to abstain for

men's sake from doing anything is hypocrisy, while to do anything for

men's sake is idolatry." It may be noticed as an argument against the

Indian origin of Ṣúfiism that although the three Ṣúfís who have

been mentioned were natives of Khurásán or Transoxania, and therefore

presumably in touch with Buddhistic ideas, no trace can be found in

their sayings of the doctrine of dying to self (_faná_), which plays a

great part in subsequent Ṣúfiism, and which Von Kremer and others

have identified with _Nirvána_. We now come to a more interesting

personality, in whom the ascetic and quietistic type of Ṣúfiism is

transfigured by emotion and begins clearly to reveal the direction of

its next advance. Every one knows that women have borne a distinguished

part in the annals of European mysticism: St. Teresa, Madame Guyon,

Catharine of Siena, and Juliana of Norwich, to mention but a few names

at random. And notwithstanding the intellectual death to which the

majority of Moslem women are condemned by their Prophet's ordinance, the

Ṣúfís, like the Roman Catholics, can boast a goodly number of female

saints. The oldest of these, and by far the most renowned, is Rábi‘a,

who belonged to the tribe of ‘Adí, whence she is generally called Rábi‘a

al-‘Adawiyya. She was a native of Baṣra and died at Jerusalem,

probably towards the end of the second century of Islam: her tomb was an

object of pilgrimage in the Middle Ages, as we learn from Ibn Khallikán

(† 1282 A.D.). Although the sayings and verses attributed to her by

Ṣúfí writers may be of doubtful authenticity, there is every reason

to suppose that they fairly represent the actual character of her

devotion, which resembled that of all feminine mystics in being inspired

by tender and ardent feeling. She was asked: "Do you love God Almighty?"

"Yes." "Do you hate the Devil?" "My love of God," she replied, "leaves

me no leisure to hate the Devil. I saw the Prophet in a dream. He said,

'O Rábi‘a, do you love me?' I said, 'O Apostle of God, who does not love

thee?--but love of God hath so absorbed me that neither love nor hate of

any other thing remains in my heart.'" Rábi‘a is said to have spoken the

following verses:--

"Two ways I love Thee: selfishly,

And next, as worthy is of Thee.

'Tis selfish love that I do naught

Save think on Thee with every thought;

'Tis purest love when Thou dost raise

The veil to my adoring gaze.

Not mine the praise in that or this,

Thine is the praise in both, I wis."[448]

Whether genuine or not, these lines, with their mixture of devotion and

speculation--the author distinguishes the illuminative from the

contemplative life and manifestly regards the latter as the more

excellent way--serve to mark the end of the ascetic school of Ṣúfiism

and the rise of a new theosophy which, under the same name and still

professing to be in full accord with the Koran and the _Sunna_, was

founded to some extent upon ideas of extraneous origin--ideas

irreconcilable with any revealed religion, and directly opposed to the

severe and majestic simplicity of the Muḥammadan articles of faith.

[Sidenote: Umayyad literature.]

[Sidenote: The decline of Arabian poetry not due to Muḥammad.]

[Sidenote: The Umayyad poets.]

The opening century of Islam was not favourable to literature. At first

conquest, expansion, and organisation, then civil strife absorbed the

nation's energies; then, under the Umayyads, the old pagan spirit

asserted itself once more. Consequently the literature of this period

consists almost exclusively of poetry, which bears few marks of Islamic

influence. I need scarcely refer to the view which long prevailed in

Europe that Muḥammad corrupted the taste of his countrymen by setting

up the Koran as an incomparable model of poetic style, and by condemning

the admired productions of the heathen bards and the art of poetry

itself; nor remind my readers that in the first place the Koran is not

poetical in form (so that it could not serve as a model of this kind),

and secondly, according to Muḥammadan belief, is the actual Word of

God, therefore _sui generis_ and beyond imitation. Again, the poets whom

the Prophet condemned were his most dangerous opponents: he hated them

not as poets but as propagators and defenders of false ideals, and

because they ridiculed his teaching, while on the contrary he honoured

and rewarded those who employed their talents in the right way. If the

nomad minstrels and cavaliers who lived, as they sang, the free life of

the desert were never equalled by the brilliant laureates of imperial

Damascus and Baghdád, the causes of the decline cannot be traced to

Muḥammad's personal attitude, but are due to various circumstances

for which he is only responsible in so far as he founded a religious and

political system that revolutionised Arabian society. The poets of the

period with which we are now dealing follow slavishly in the footsteps

of the ancients, as though Islam had never been. Instead of celebrating

the splendid victories and heroic deeds of Moslem warriors, the bard

living in a great city still weeps over the relics of his beloved's

encampment in the wilderness, still rides away through the sandy waste

on the peerless camel, whose fine points he particularly describes; and

if he should happen to be addressing the Caliph, it is ten to one that

he will credit that august personage with all the virtues of a Bedouin

Shaykh. "Fortunately the imitation of the antique _qaṣída_, at any

rate with the greatest Umayyad poets, is to some extent only accessory

to another form of art that excites our historical interest in a high

degree: namely, the occasional poems (very numerous in almost all these

writers), which are suggested by the mood of the moment and can shed a

vivid light on contemporary history."[449]

[Sidenote: Music and song in the Holy Cities.]

[Sidenote: ‘Umar b. Abí Rabí‘a.]

The conquests made by the successors of the Prophet brought enormous

wealth into Mecca and Medína, and when the Umayyad aristocracy gained

the upper hand in ‘Uthmán's Caliphate, these towns developed a

voluptuous and dissolute life which broke through every restriction that

Islam had imposed. The increase of luxury produced a corresponding

refinement of the poetic art. Although music was not unknown to the

pagan Arabs, it had hitherto been cultivated chiefly by foreigners,

especially Greek and Persian singing-girls. But in the first century

after the Hijra we hear of several Arab singers,[450] natives of Mecca

and Medína, who set favourite passages to music: henceforth the words

and the melody are inseparably united, as we learn from the _Kitábu

’l-Aghání_ or 'Book of Songs,' where hundreds of examples are to be

found. Amidst the gay throng of pleasure-seekers women naturally played

a prominent part, and love, which had hitherto formed in most cases

merely the conventional prelude to an ode, now began to be sung for its

own sake. In this Peninsular school, as it may be named in contrast with

the bold and masculine strain of the great Provincial poets whom we are

about to mention, the palm unquestionably belongs to ‘Umar b. Abí Rabí‘a

(† 719 A.D.), the son of a rich Meccan merchant. He passed the best part

of his life in the pursuit of noble dames, who alone inspired him to

sing. His poetry was so seductive that it was regarded by devout Moslems

as "the greatest crime ever committed against God," and so charming

withal that ‘Abdulláh b. ‘Abbás, the Prophet's cousin and a famous

authority on the Koran and the Traditions, could not refrain from

getting by heart some erotic verses which ‘Umar recited to him.[451] The

Arabs said, with truth, that the tribe of Quraysh had won distinction in

every field save poetry, but we must allow that ‘Umar b. Abí Rabí‘a is a

clear exception to this rule. His diction, like that of Catullus, has

all the unaffected ease of refined conversation. Here are a few lines:--

"Blame me no more, O comrades! but to-day

Quietly with me beside the howdahs stay.

Blame not my love for Zaynab, for to her

And hers my heart is pledged a prisoner.

Ah, can I ever think of how we met

Once at al-Khayf, and feel no fond regret?

My song of other women was but jest:

She reigns alone, eclipsing all the rest.

Hers is my love sincere, 'tis she the flame

Of passion kindles--so, a truce to blame!"[452]

[Sidenote: Love-ballads.]

We have no space to dwell on the minor poets of the same school,

al-‘Arjí (a kinsman of the Umayyads), al-Aḥwaṣ, and many others.

It has been pointed out by Dr. C. Brockelmann that the love-poetry of

this epoch is largely of popular origin; _e.g._, the songs attributed to

Jamíl, in which Buthayna is addressed, and to Majnún--the hero of

countless Persian and Turkish romances which celebrate his love for

Laylá--are true folk-songs such as occur in the _Arabian Nights_, and

may be heard in the streets of Beyrout or on the banks of the Tigris at

the present day. Many of them are extremely beautiful. I take the

following verses from a poem which is said to have been composed by

Jamíl:--

"Oh, might it flower anew, that youthful prime,

And restore to us, Buthayna, the bygone time!

And might we again be blest as we wont to be,

When thy folk were nigh and grudged what thou gavest me!

Shall I ever meet Buthayna alone again,

Each of us full of love as a cloud of rain?

Fast in her net was I when a lad, and till

This day my love is growing and waxing still.

I have spent my lifetime, waiting for her to speak,

And the bloom of youth is faded from off my cheek;

But I will not suffer that she my suit deny,

My love remains undying, though all things die!"[453]

[Sidenote: Poetry in the provinces.]

The names of al-Akhṭal, al-Farazdaq, and Jarír stand out

pre-eminently in the list of Umayyad poets. They were men of a very

different stamp from the languishing Minnesingers and carpet-knights

who, like Jamíl, refused to battle except on the field of love. It is

noteworthy that all three were born and bred in Mesopotamia. The

motherland was exhausted; her ambitious and enterprising youth poured

into the provinces, which now become the main centres of intellectual

activity.

[Sidenote: The _Naqá’iḍ_ of Jarír and Farazdaq.]

[Sidenote: General interest in poetry.]

Farazdaq and Jarír are intimately connected by a peculiar

rivalry--"_Arcades ambo_--_id est_, blackguards both." For many years

they engaged in a public scolding-match (_muháját_), and as neither had

any scruples on the score of decency, the foulest abuse was bandied to

and fro between them--abuse, however, which is redeemed from vulgarity

by its literary excellence, and by the marvellous skill which the

satirists display in manipulating all the vituperative resources of the

Arabic language. Soon these 'Flytings' (_Naqá’iḍ_) were recited

everywhere, and each poet had thousands of enthusiastic partisans who

maintained that he was superior to his rival.[454] One day Muhallab b.

Abí Sufra, the governor of Khurásán, who was marching against the

Azáriqa, a sect of the Khárijites, heard a great clamour and tumult in

the camp. On inquiring its cause, he found that the soldiers had been

fiercely disputing as to the comparative merits of Jarír and Farazdaq,

and desired to submit the question to his decision. "Would you expose

me," said Muhallab, "to be torn in pieces by these two dogs? I will not

decide between them, but I will point out to you those who care not a

whit for either of them. Go to the Azáriqa! They are Arabs who

understand poetry and judge it aright." Next day, when the armies faced

each other, an Azraqite named ‘Abída b. Hilál stepped forth from the

ranks and offered single combat. One of Muhallab's men accepted the

challenge, but before fighting he begged his adversary to inform him

which was the better poet--Farazdaq or Jarír? "God confound you!" cried

‘Abída, "do you ask me about poetry instead of studying the Koran and

the Sacred Law?" Then he quoted a verse by Jarír and gave judgment in

his favour.[455] This incident affords a striking proof that the taste

for poetry, far from being confined to literary circles, was diffused

throughout the whole nation, and was cultivated even amidst the fatigues

and dangers of war. Parallel instances occur in the history of the

Athenians, the most gifted people of the West, and possibly elsewhere,

but imagine British soldiers discussing questions of that kind over the

camp-fires!

Akhṭal joined in the fray. His sympathies were with Farazdaq, and the

_naqá’iḍ_ which he and Jarír composed against each other have come

down to us. All these poets, like their Post-islamic brethren generally,

were professional encomiasts, greedy, venal, and ready to revile any one

who would not purchase their praise. Some further account of them may be

interesting to the reader, especially as the anecdotes related by their

biographers throw many curious sidelights on the manners of the time.

[Sidenote: Akhṭal.]

The oldest of the trio, Akhṭal (Ghiyáth b. Ghawth) of Taghlib, was a

Christian, like most of his tribe--they had long been settled in

Mesopotamia--and remained in that faith to the end of his life, though

the Caliph ‘Abdu ’l-Malik is said to have offered him a pension and

10,000 dirhems in cash if he would turn Moslem. His religion, however,

was less a matter of principle than of convenience, and to him the

supreme virtue of Christianity lay in the licence which it gave him to

drink wine as often as he pleased. The stories told of him suggest

grovelling devoutness combined with very easy morals, a phenomenon

familiar to the student of mediæval Catholicism. It is related by one

who was touring in Syria that he found Akhṭal confined in a church at

Damascus, and pleaded his cause with the priest. The latter stopped

beside Akhṭal and raising the staff on which he leaned--for he was an

aged man--exclaimed: "O enemy of God, will you again defame people and

satirise them and caluminate chaste women?" while the poet humbled

himself and promised never to repeat the offence. When asked how it was

that he, who was honoured by the Caliph and feared by all, behaved so

submissively to this priest, he answered, "It is religion, it is

religion."[456] On another occasion, seeing the Bishop pass, he cried to

his wife who was then pregnant, "Run after him and touch his robe." The

poor woman only succeeded in touching the tail of the Bishop's ass, but

Akhṭal consoled her with the remark, "He and the tail of his ass,

there's no difference!"[457] It is characteristic of the anti-Islamic

spirit which appears so strongly in the Umayyads that their chosen

laureate and champion should have been a Christian who was in truth a

lineal descendant of the pagan bards. Pious Moslems might well be

scandalised when he burst unannounced into the Caliph's presence,

sumptuously attired in silk and wearing a cross of gold which was

suspended from his neck by a golden chain, while drops of wine trickled

from his beard,[458] but their protests went unheeded at the court of

Damascus, where nobody cared whether the author of a fine verse was a

Moslem or a Christian, and where a poet was doubly welcome whose

religion enabled him to serve his masters without any regard to

Muḥammadan sentiment; so that, for example, when Yazíd I wished to

take revenge on the people of Medína because one of their poets had

addressed amatory verses to his sister, he turned to Akhṭal, who

branded the _Anṣár_, the men who had brought about the triumph of

Islam, in the famous lines--

"Quraysh have borne away all the honour and glory,

And baseness alone is beneath the turbans of the Anṣár."[459]

We must remember that the poets were leaders of public opinion; their

utterances took the place of political pamphlets or of party oratory for

or against the Government of the day. On hearing Akhṭal's ode in

praise of the Umayyad dynasty,[460] ‘Abdu ’l-Malik ordered one of his

clients to conduct the author through the streets of Damascus and to cry

out, "Here is the poet of the Commander of the Faithful! Here is the

best poet of the Arabs!"[461] No wonder that he was a favourite at court

and such an eminent personage that the great tribe of Bakr used to

invite him to act as arbitrator whenever any controversy arose among

them.[462] Despite the luxury in which he lived, his wild Bedouin nature

pined for freedom, and he frequently left the capital to visit his home

in the desert, where he not only married and divorced several wives, but

also threw himself with ardour into the feuds of his clan. We have

already noticed the part which he played in the literary duel between

Jarír and Farazdaq. From his deathbed he sent a final injunction to

Farazdaq not to spare their common enemy.

Akhṭal is commended by Arabian critics for the number and excellence

of his long poems, as well as for the purity, polish, and correctness of

his style. Abú ‘Ubayda put him first among the poets of Islam, while the

celebrated collector of Pre-islamic poetry, Abú ‘Amr b. al-‘Alá,

declared that if Akhṭal had lived a single day in the Pagan Age he

would not have preferred any one to him. His supremacy in panegyric was

acknowledged by Farazdaq, and he himself claims to have surpassed all

competitors in three styles, viz., panegyric, satire, and erotic poetry;

but there is more justification for the boast that his satires might be

recited _virginibus_--he does not add _puerisque_--without causing a

blush.[463]

[Sidenote: Farazdaq.]

Hammám b. Ghálib, generally known as Farazdaq, belonged to the tribe of

Tamím, and was born at Baṣra towards the end of ‘Umar's Caliphate,

His grandfather, Ṣa‘ṣa‘a, won renown in Pre-islamic times by

ransoming the lives of female infants whom their parents had condemned

to die (on account of which he received the title, _Muḥyi

’l-Maw’údát_, 'He who brings the buried girls to life'), and his father

was likewise imbued with the old Bedouin traditions of liberality and

honour, which were rapidly growing obsolete among the demoralised

populace of ‘Iráq. Farazdaq was a _mauvais sujet_ of the type

represented by François Villon, reckless, dissolute, and thoroughly

unprincipled: apart from his gift of vituperation, we find nothing in

him to admire save his respect for his father's memory and his constant

devotion to the House of ‘Alí, a devotion which he scorned to conceal;

so that he was cast into prison by the Caliph Hishám for reciting in his

presence a glowing panegyric on ‘Alí's grandson, Zaynu ’l-‘Ábidín. The

tragic fate of Ḥusayn at Karbalá affected him deeply, and he called

on his compatriots to acquit themselves like men--

"If ye avenge not him, the son of the best of you,

Then fling, fling the sword away and naught but the spindle ply."[464]

While still a young man, he was expelled from his native city in

consequence of the lampoons which he directed against a noble family of

Baṣra, the Banú Nahshal. Thereupon he fled to Medína, where he

plunged into gallantry and dissipation until a shameless description of

one of his intrigues again drew upon him the sentence of banishment. His

poems contain many references to his cousin Nawár, whom, by means of a

discreditable trick, he forced to marry him when she was on the point of

giving her hand to another. The pair were ever quarrelling, and at last

Farazdaq consented to an irrevocable divorce, which was witnessed by

Ḥasan of Baṣra, the famous theologian. No sooner was the act

complete than Farazdaq began to wish it undone, and he spoke the

following verses:--[465]

"I feel repentance like al-Kusa‘í,[466]

Now that Nawár has been divorced by me.

She was my Paradise which I have lost,

Like Adam when the Lord's command he crossed.

I am one who wilfully puts out his eyes,

Then dark to him the shining day doth rise!"

'The repentance of Farazdaq,' signifying bitter regret or

disappointment, passed into a proverb. He died a few months before Jarír

in 728 A.D., a year also made notable by the deaths of two illustrious

divines, Ḥasan of Baṣra and Ibn Sírín.

[Sidenote: Jarír.]

Jarír b. ‘Atiyya belonged to Kulayb, a branch of the same tribe, Tamím,

which produced Farazdaq. He was the court-poet of Ḥajjáj, the dreaded

governor of ‘Iráq, and eulogised his patron in such extravagant terms as

to arouse the jealousy of the Caliph ‘Abdu ’l-Malik, who consequently

received him, on his appearance at Damascus, with marked coldness and

hauteur. But when, after several repulses, he at length obtained

permission to recite a poem which he had composed in honour of the

prince, and came to the verse--

"Are not ye the best of those who on camel ride,

More open-handed than all in the world beside?"--

the Caliph sat up erect on his throne and exclaimed: "Let us be praised

like this or in silence!"[467] Jarír's fame as a satirist stood so high

that to be worsted by him was reckoned a greater distinction than to

vanquish any one else. The blind poet, Bashshár b. Burd († 783 A.D.),

said: "I satirised Jarír, but he considered me too young for him to

notice. Had he answered me, I should have been the finest poet in the

world."[468] The following anecdote shows that vituperation launched by

a master like Jarír was a deadly and far-reaching weapon which degraded

its victim in the eyes of his contemporaries, however he might deserve

their esteem, and covered his family and tribe with lasting disgrace.

There was a poet of repute, well known by the name of Rá‘i ’l-ibil

(Camel-herd), who loudly published his opinion that Farazdaq was

superior to Jarír, although the latter had lauded his tribe, the

Banú Numayr, whereas Farazdaq had made verses against them. One day

Jarír met him and expostulated with him but got no reply. Rá‘í was

riding a mule and was accompanied by his son, Jandal, who said to

his father: "Why do you halt before this dog of the Banú Kulayb, as

though you had anything to hope or fear from him?" At the same time

he gave the mule a lash with his whip. The animal started violently

and kicked Jarír, who was standing by, so that his cap fell to the

ground. Rá‘í took no heed and went on his way. Jarír picked up the

cap, brushed it, and replaced it on his head. Then he exclaimed in

verse:--

"_O Jandal! what will say Numayr of you

When my dishonouring shaft has pierced thy sire?_"

He returned home full of indignation, and after the evening prayer,

having called for a jar of date-wine and a lamp, he set about his

work. An old woman in the house heard him muttering, and mounted the

stairs to see what ailed him. She found him crawling naked on his

bed, by reason of that which was within him; so she ran down, crying

"He is mad," and described what she had seen to the people of the

house. "Get thee gone," they said, "we know what he is at." By

daybreak Jarír had composed a satire of eighty verses against the

Banú Numayr. When he finished the poem, he shouted triumphantly,

"_Allah Akbar!_" and rode away to the place where he expected to

find Rá‘í ’l-ibil and Farazdaq and their friends. He did not salute

Rá‘í but immediately began to recite. While he was speaking Farazdaq

and Rá‘í bowed their heads, and the rest of the company sat

listening in silent mortification. When Jarír uttered the final

words--

"_Cast down thine eyes for shame! for thou art of

Numayr--no peer of Ka‘b nor yet Kiláb_"--

Rá‘í rose and hastened to his lodging as fast as his mule could

carry him. "Saddle! Saddle!" he cried to his comrades; "you cannot

stay here longer, Jarír has disgraced you all." They left Baṣra

without delay to rejoin their tribe, who bitterly reproached Rá‘í

for the ignominy which he had brought upon Numayr; and hundreds of

years afterwards his name was still a byword among his people.[469]

[Sidenote: Dhu ’l-Rumma.]

Next, but next at a long interval, to the three great poets of this

epoch comes Dhu ’l-Rumma (Ghaylán b. ‘Uqba), who imitated the odes of

the desert Arabs with tiresome and monotonous fidelity. The philologists

of the following age delighted in his antique and difficult style, and

praised him far above his merits. It was said that poetry began with

Imru’u ’l-Qays and ended with Dhu ’l-Rumma; which is true in the sense

that he is the last important representative of the pure Bedouin school.

[Sidenote: Prose writers of the Umayyad period.]

Concerning the prose writers of the period we can make only a few

general observations, inasmuch as their works have almost entirely

perished.[470] In this branch of literature the same secular,

non-Muḥammadan spirit prevailed which has been mentioned as

characteristic of the poets who flourished under the Umayyad dynasty,

and of the dynasty itself. Historical studies were encouraged and

promoted by the court of Damascus. We have referred elsewhere to ‘Abíd

b. Sharya, a native of Yemen, whose business it was to dress up the old

legends and purvey them in a readable form to the public. Another

Yemenite of Persian descent, Wahb b. Munabbih, is responsible for a

great deal of the fabulous lore belonging to the domain of _Awá’il_

(Origins) which Moslem chroniclers commonly prefix to their historical

works. There seems to have been an eager demand for narratives of the

Early Wars of Islam (_maghází_). It is related that the Caliph ‘Abdu

’l-Malik, seeing one of these books in the hands of his son, ordered it

to be burnt, and enjoined him to study the Koran instead. This anecdote

shows on the part of ‘Abdu ’l-Malik a pious feeling with which he is

seldom credited,[471] but it shows also that histories of a legendary

and popular character preceded those which were based, like the

_Maghází_ of Músá b. ‘Uqba († 758 A.D.) and Ibn Isḥáq's _Biography of

the Prophet_, upon religious tradition. No work of the former class has

been preserved. The strong theological influence which asserted itself

in the second century of the Hijra was unfavourable to the development

of an Arabian prose literature on national lines. In the meantime,

however, learned doctors of divinity began to collect and write down the

_Ḥadíths_. We have a solitary relic of this sort in the _Kitábu

’l-Zuhd_ (Book of Asceticism) by Asad b. Músá († 749 A.D.). The most

renowned traditionist of the Umayyad age is Muḥammad b. Muslim b.

Shiháb al-Zuhrí († 742 A.D.), who distinguished himself by accepting

judicial office under the tyrants; an act of complaisance to which his

more stiff-necked and conscientious brethren declined to stoop.

[Sidenote: The non-Arabian Moslems.]

It was the lust of conquest even more than missionary zeal that caused

the Arabs to invade Syria and Persia and to settle on foreign soil,

where they lived as soldiers at the expense of the native population

whom they inevitably regarded as an inferior race. If the latter thought

to win respect by embracing the religion of their conquerors, they found

themselves sadly mistaken. The new converts were attached as clients

(_Mawálí_, sing. _Mawlá_) to an Arab tribe: they could not become

Moslems on any other footing. Far from obtaining the equal rights which

they coveted, and which, according to the principles of Islam, they

should have enjoyed, the _Mawálí_ were treated by their aristocratic

patrons with contempt, and had to submit to every kind of social

degradation, while instead of being exempted from the capitation-tax

paid by non-Moslems, they still remained liable to the ever-increasing

exactions of Government officials. And these 'Clients,' be it

remembered, were not ignorant serfs, but men whose culture was

acknowledged by the Arabs themselves--men who formed the backbone of the

influential learned class and ardently prosecuted those studies,

Divinity and Jurisprudence, which were then held in highest esteem. Here

was a situation full of danger. Against Shí‘ites and Khárijites the

Umayyads might claim with some show of reason to represent the cause of

law and order, if not of Islam; against the bitter cry of the oppressed

_Mawálí_ they had no argument save the sword.

[Sidenote: Presages of the Revolution.]

We have referred above to the universal belief of Moslems in a Messiah

and to the extraordinary influence of that belief on their religious and

political history. No wonder that in this unhappy epoch thousands of

people, utterly disgusted with life as they found it, should have

indulged in visions of 'a good time coming,' which was expected to

coincide with the end of the first century of the Hijra. Mysterious

predictions, dark sayings attributed to Muḥammad himself, prophecies

of war and deliverance floated to and fro. Men pored over apocryphal

books, and asked whether the days of confusion and slaughter

(_al-harj_), which, it is known, shall herald the appearance of the

Mahdí, had not actually begun.

The final struggle was short and decisive. When it closed, the Umayyads

and with them the dominion of the Arabs had passed away. Alike in

politics and literature, the Persian race asserted its supremacy. We

shall now relate the story of this Revolution as briefly as possible,

leaving the results to be considered in a new chapter.

[Sidenote: The ‘Abbásids.]

[Sidenote: ‘Abbásid propaganda in Khurásán.]

While the Shí‘ite missionaries (_du‘át_, sing. _dá‘í_) were actively

engaged in canvassing for their party, which, as we have seen,

recognised in ‘Alí and his descendants the only legitimate successors to

Muḥammad, another branch of the Prophet's family--the ‘Abbásids--had

entered the field with the secret intention of turning the labours of

the ‘Alids to their own advantage. From their ancestor, ‘Abbás, the

Prophet's uncle, they inherited those qualities of caution, duplicity,

and worldly wisdom which ensure success in political intrigue.

‘Abdulláh, the son of ‘Abbás, devoted his talents to theology and

interpretation of the Koran. He "passes for one of the strongest pillars

of religious tradition; but, in the eyes of unprejudiced European

research, he is only a crafty liar." His descendants "lived in deep

retirement in Ḥumayma, a little place to the south of the Dead Sea,

seemingly far withdrawn from the world, but which, on account of its

proximity to the route by which Syrian pilgrims went to Mecca, afforded

opportunities for communication with the remotest lands of Islam. From

this centre they carried on the propaganda in their own behalf with the

utmost skill. They had genius enough to see that the best soil for their

efforts was the distant Khurásán--that is, the extensive north-eastern

provinces of the old Persian Empire."[472] These countries were

inhabited by a brave and high-spirited people who in consequence of

their intolerable sufferings under the Umayyad tyranny, the devastation

of their homes and the almost servile condition to which they had been

reduced, were eager to join in any desperate enterprise that gave them

hope of relief. Moreover, the Arabs in Khurásán were already to a large

extent Persianised: they had Persian wives, wore trousers, drank wine,

and kept the festivals of Nawrúz and Mihrgán; while the Persian language

was generally understood and even spoken among them.[473] Many

interesting details as to the methods of the ‘Abbásid emissaries will be

found in Van Vloten's admirable work.[474] Starting from Kúfa, the

residence of the Grand Master who directed the whole agitation, they

went to and fro in the guise of merchants or pilgrims, cunningly

adapting their doctrine to the intelligence of those whom they sought to

enlist. Like the Shí‘ites, they canvassed for 'the House of the

Prophet,' an ambiguous expression which might equally well be applied to

the descendants of ‘Alí or of ‘Abbás, as is shown by the following

table:--

HÁSHIM.

│

‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib.

│

----------------------------------------------------

│ │ │

‘Abdulláh. Abú Ṭálib. ‘Abbás.

│ │

Muḥammad (the Prophet). ‘Alí (married to Fáṭima, daughter of

the Prophet).

[Sidenote: The Shí‘ites join hands with the ‘Abbásids.]

It was, of course, absolutely essential to the ‘Abbásids that they

should be able to count on the support of the powerful Shí‘ite

organisation, which, ever since the abortive rebellion headed by Mukhtár

(see p. 218 _supra_) had drawn vast numbers of Persian _Mawálí_ into its

ranks. Now, of the two main parties of the Shí‘a, viz., the Háshimites

or followers of Muḥammad Ibnu ’l-Ḥanafiyya, and the Imámites, who

pinned their faith to the descendants of the Prophet through his

daughter Fáṭima, the former had virtually identified themselves with

the ‘Abbásids, inasmuch as the Imám Abú Háshim, who died in 716 A.D.,

bequeathed his hereditary rights to Muḥammad b. ‘Alí, the head of the

House of ‘Abbás. It only remained to hoodwink the Imámites. Accordingly

the ‘Abbásid emissaries were instructed to carry on their propaganda in

the name of Háshim, the common ancestor of ‘Abbás and ‘Alí. By means of

this ruse they obtained a free hand in Khurásán, and made such progress

that the governor of that province, Naṣr b. Sayyár, wrote to the

Umayyad Caliph, Marwán, asking for reinforcements, and informing him

that two hundred thousand men had sworn allegiance to Abú Muslim, the

principal ‘Abbásid agent. At the foot of his letter he added these

lines:--

"I see the coal's red glow beneath the embers,

And 'tis about to blaze!

The rubbing of two sticks enkindles fire,

And out of words come frays.

'Oh! is Umayya's House awake or sleeping?'

I cry in sore amaze."[475]

We have other verses by this gallant and loyal officer in which he

implores the Arab troops stationed in Khurásán, who were paralysed by

tribal dissensions, to turn their swords against "a mixed rabble without

religion or nobility":--

"'Death to the Arabs'--that is all their creed."[476]

[Sidenote: Declaration of war.]

[Sidenote: Abú Muslim.]

These warnings, however, were of no avail, and on June 9th, A.D. 747,

Abú Muslim displayed the black banner of the ‘Abbásids at Siqadanj, near

Merv, which city he occupied a few months later. The triumphant advance

of the armies of the Revolution towards Damascus recalls the celebrated

campaign of Cæsar, when after crossing the Rubicon he marched on Rome.

Nor is Abú Muslim, though a freedman of obscure parentage--he was

certainly no Arab--unworthy to be compared with the great patrician. "He

united," says Nöldeke, "with an agitator's adroitness and perfect

unscrupulosity in the choice of means the energy and clear outlook of a

general and statesman, and even of a monarch."[477] Grim, ruthless,

disdaining the pleasures of ordinary men, he possessed the faculty in

which Cæsar excelled of inspiring blind obedience and enthusiastic

devotion. To complete the parallel, we may mention here that Abú Muslim

was treacherously murdered by Manṣúr, the second Caliph of the House

which he had raised to the throne, from motives exactly resembling those

which Shakespeare has put in the mouth of Brutus--

"So Caesar may:

Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel

Will bear no colour for the thing he is,

Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,

Would run to these and these extremities;

And therefore think him as a serpent's egg

Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous,

And kill him in the shell."

[Sidenote: Accession of Abu ’l-‘Abbás al-Saffáḥ.]

The downfall of the Umayyads was hastened by the perfidy and selfishness

of the Arabs on whom they relied: the old feud between Muḍar and

Yemen broke out afresh, and while the Northern group remained loyal to

the dynasty, those of Yemenite stock more or less openly threw in their

lot with the Revolution. We need not attempt to trace the course of the

unequal contest. Everywhere the Arabs, disheartened and divided, fell an

easy prey to their adversaries, and all was lost when Marwán, the last

Umayyad Caliph, sustained a crushing defeat on the River Záb in

Babylonia (January, A.D. 750). Meanwhile Abu ’l-‘Abbás, the head of the

rival House, had already received homage as Caliph (November, 749 A.D.).

In the inaugural address which he delivered in the great Mosque of Kúfa,

he called himself _al-Saffáḥ_, _i.e._, 'the Blood-shedder,'[478] and

this title has deservedly stuck to him, though it might have been

assumed with no less justice by his brother Mansúr and other members of

his family. All Umayyads were remorselessly hunted down and massacred in

cold blood--even those who surrendered only on the strength of the most

solemn pledges that they had nothing to fear. A small remnant made their

escape, or managed to find shelter until the storm of fury and

vengeance, which spared neither the dead nor the living,[479] had blown

over. One stripling, named ‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán, fled to North Africa, and

after meeting with many perilous adventures founded a new Umayyad

dynasty in Spain.

CHAPTER VI

THE CALIPHS OF BAGHDÁD

The annals of the ‘Abbásid dynasty from the accession of Saffáḥ (A.D.

749) to the death of Musta‘ṣim, and the destruction of Baghdád by the

Mongols (A.D. 1258) make a round sum of five centuries. I propose to

sketch the history of this long period in three chapters, of which the

first will offer a general view of the more important literary and

political developments so far as is possible in the limited space at my

command; the second will be devoted to the great poets, scholars,

historians, philosophers, and scientists who flourished in this, the

Golden Age of Muḥammadan literature; while in the third some account

will be given of the chief religious movements and of the trend of

religious thought.

[Sidenote: Political results of the Revolution.]

The empire founded by the Caliph ‘Umar and administered by the Umayyads

was essentially, as the reader will have gathered, a military

organisation for the benefit of the paramount race. In theory, no doubt,

all Moslems were equal, but in fact the Arabs alone ruled--a privilege

which national pride conspired with personal interest to maintain. We

have seen how the Persian Moslems asserted their right to a share in the

government. The Revolution which enthroned the ‘Abbásids marks the

beginning of a Moslem, as opposed to an Arabian, Empire. The new

dynasty, owing its rise to the people of Persia, and especially of

Khurásán, could exist only by establishing a balance of power between

Persians and Arabs. That this policy was not permanently successful will

surprise no one who considers the widely diverse characteristics of the

two races, but for the next fifty years the rivals worked together in

tolerable harmony, thanks to the genius of Manṣúr and the

conciliatory influence of the Barmecides, by whose overthrow the

alliance was virtually dissolved. In the ensuing civil war between the

sons of Hárún al-Rashíd the Arabs fought on the side of Amín while the

Persians supported Ma’mún, and henceforth each race began to follow an

independent path. The process of separation, however, was very gradual,

and long before it was completed the religious and intellectual life of

both nationalities had become inseparably mingled in the full stream of

Moslem civilisation.

[Sidenote: The choice of a new capital.]

[Sidenote: Foundation of Baghdád.]

The centre of this civilisation was the province of ‘Iráq (Babylonia),

with its renowned metropolis, Baghdád, 'the City of Peace' (_Madínatu

’l-Salám_). Only here could the ‘Abbásids feel themselves at home.

"Damascus, peopled by the dependants of the Omayyads, was out of the

question. On the one hand it was too far from Persia, whence the power

of the ‘Abbásids was chiefly derived; on the other hand it was

dangerously near the Greek frontier, and from here, during the troublous

reigns of the last Omayyads, hostile incursions on the part of the

Christians had begun to avenge former defeats. It was also beginning to

be evident that the conquests of Islam would, in the future, lie to the

eastward towards Central Asia, rather than to the westward at the

further expense of the Byzantines. Damascus, on the highland of Syria,

lay, so to speak, dominating the Mediterranean and looking westward, but

the new capital that was to supplant it must face east, be near Persia,

and for the needs of commerce have water communication with the sea.

Hence everything pointed to a site on either the Euphrates or the

Tigris, and the ‘Abbásids were not slow to make their choice."[480]

After carefully examining various sites, the Caliph Manṣúr fixed on a

little Persian village, on the west bank of the Tigris, called Baghdád,

which, being interpreted, means 'given (or 'founded') by God'; and in

A.D. 762 the walls of the new city began to rise. Manṣúr laid the

first brick with his own hand, and the work was pushed forward with

astonishing rapidity under his personal direction by masons, architects,

and surveyors, whom he gathered out of different countries, so that 'the

Round City,' as he planned it, was actually finished within the short

space of four years.

[Sidenote: Despotic character of ‘Abbásid rule.]

[Sidenote: The Vizier.]

The same circumstances which caused the seat of empire to be transferred

to Baghdád brought about a corresponding change in the whole system of

government. Whereas the Umayyads had been little more than heads of a

turbulent Arabian aristocracy, their successors reverted to the old type

of Oriental despotism with which the Persians had been familiar since

the days of Darius and Xerxes. Surrounded by a strong bodyguard of

troops from Khurásán, on whose devotion they could rely, the ‘Abbásids

ruled with absolute authority over the lives and properties or their

subjects, even as the Sásánian monarchs had ruled before them. Persian

fashions were imitated at the court, which was thronged with the

Caliph's relatives and freedmen (not to mention his womenfolk), besides

a vast array of uniformed and decorated officials. Chief amongst these

latter stood two personages who figure prominently in the _Arabian

Nights_--the Vizier and the Executioner. The office of Vizier is

probably of Persian origin, although in Professor De Goeje's opinion the

word itself is Arabic.[481] The first who bore this title in ‘Abbásid

times was Abú Salama, the minister of Saffáḥ: he was called _Wazíru

Áli Muḥammadin_, 'the Vizier of Muḥammad's Family.' It was the

duty of the Vizier to act as intermediary between the omnipotent

sovereign and his people, to counsel him in affairs of State, and, above

all, to keep His Majesty in good humour. He wielded enormous power, but

was exposed to every sort of intrigue, and never knew when he might be

interned in a dungeon or despatched in the twinkling of an eye by the

grim functionary presiding over the _naṭ‘_, or circular carpet of

leather, which lay beside the throne and served as a scaffold.

[Sidenote: Two periods of ‘Abbásid history.]

We can distinguish two periods in the history of the ‘Abbásid House: one

of brilliant prosperity inaugurated by Manṣúr and including the

reigns of Mahdí, Hárún al-Rashíd, Ma’mún, Mu‘tasim, and Wáthiq--that is

to say, nearly a hundred years in all (754-847 A.D.); the other, more

than four times as long, commencing with Mutawakkil (847-861 A.D.)--a

period of decline rapidly sinking, after a brief interval which gave

promise of better things, into irremediable decay.[482]

[Sidenote: Reign of Manṣúr (754-775 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Outbreaks in Persia.]

Cruel and treacherous, like most of his family, Abú Ja‘far Manṣúr was

perhaps the greatest ruler whom the ‘Abbásids produced.[483] He had to

fight hard for his throne. The ‘Alids, who deemed themselves the true

heirs of the Prophet in virtue of their descent from Fáṭima, rose in

rebellion against the usurper, surprised him in an unguarded moment, and

drove him to such straits that during seven weeks he never changed his

dress except for public prayers. But once more the ‘Alids proved

incapable of grasping their opportunity. The leaders, Muḥammad, who

was known as 'The Pure Soul' (_al-Nafs al-zakiyya_), and his brother

Ibráhím, fell on the battle-field. Under Mahdí and Hárún members of the

House of ‘Alí continued to 'come out,' but with no better success. In

Eastern Persia, where strong national feelings interwove themselves with

Pre-Muḥammadan religious ideas, those of Mazdak and Zoroaster in

particular, the ‘Abbásids encountered a formidable opposition which

proclaimed its vigour and tenacity by the successive revolts of Sinbádh

the Magian (755-756 A.D.), Ustádhsís (766-768), Muqanna‘, the 'Veiled

Prophet of Khurásán' (780-786), and Bábak the Khurramite (816-838).[484]

[Sidenote: Manṣúr's advice to Mahdí.]

Manṣúr said to his son Mahdi, "O Abú ‘Abdalláh, when you sit in

company, always have divines to converse with you; for Muḥammad b.

Shiháb al-Zuhrí said, 'The word _ḥadíth_ (Apostolic Tradition) is

masculine: only virile men love it, and only effeminate men dislike it';

and he spoke the truth."[485]

[Sidenote: Manṣúr and the poet.]

On one occasion a poet came to Mahdí, who was then heir-apparent, at

Rayy, and recited a panegyric in his honour. The prince gave him 20,000

dirhems. Thereupon the postmaster of Rayy informed Manṣúr, who wrote

to his son reproaching him for such extravagance. "What you should have

done," he said, "was to let him wait a year at your door, and after that

time bestow on him 4,000 dirhems." He then caused the poet to be

arrested and brought into his presence. "You went to a heedless youth

and cajoled him?" "Yes, God save the Commander of the Faithful, I went

to a heedless, generous youth and cajoled him, and he suffered himself

to be cajoled." "Recite your eulogy of him." The poet obeyed, not

forgetting to conclude his verses with a compliment to Manṣúr.

"Bravo!" cried the Caliph, "but they are not worth 20,000 dirhems. Where

is the money?" On its being produced he made him a gift of 4,000 dirhems

and confiscated the remainder.[486]

[Sidenote: The Barmecides.]

[Sidenote: Yaḥyá b. Khálid.]

Notwithstanding irreconcilable parties--‘Alids, Persian extremists, and

(we may add) Khárijites--the policy of _rapprochement_ was on the whole

extraordinarily effective. In carrying it out the Caliphs received

powerful assistance from a noble and ancient Persian family, the

celebrated Barmakites or Barmecides. According to Mas‘údí,[487] Barmak

was originally a title borne by the High Priest (_sádin_) of the great

Magian fire-temple at Balkh. Khálid, the son of one of these

dignitaries--whence he and his descendants were called Barmakites

(_Barámika_)--held the most important offices of state under Saffáḥ

and Manṣúr. Yaḥyá, the son of Khálid, was entrusted with the

education of Hárún al-Rashíd, and on the accession of the young prince

he was appointed Grand Vizier. "My dear father!" said the Caliph, "it is

through the blessings and the good fortune which attend you, and through

your excellent management, that I am seated on the throne;[488] so I

commit to you the direction of affairs." He then handed to him his

signet-ring. Yaḥyá was distinguished (says the biographer) for

wisdom, nobleness of mind, and elegance of language.[489] Although he

took a truly Persian delight in philosophical discussion, for which

purpose freethinking scholars and eminent heretics used often to meet

in his house, he was careful to observe the outward forms of piety. It

may be said of the ‘Abbásids generally that, whatever they might do or

think in private, they wore the official badge of Islam ostentatiously

on their sleeves. The following verses which Yaḥyá addressed to his

son Faḍl are very characteristic:--[490]

"Seek glory while 'tis day, no effort spare,

And patiently the loved one's absence bear;

But when the shades of night advancing slow

O'er every vice a veil of darkness throw,

Beguile the hours with all thy heart's delight:

The day of prudent men begins at night.

Many there be, esteemed of life austere,

Who nightly enter on a strange career.

Night o'er them keeps her sable curtain drawn,

And merrily they pass from eve to dawn.

Who but a fool his pleasures would expose

To spying rivals and censorious foes?"

[Sidenote: Fall of the Barmecides (803 A.D.).]

For seventeen years Yaḥyá and his two sons, Faḍl and Ja‘far,

remained deep in Hárún's confidence and virtual rulers of the State

until, from motives which have been variously explained, the Caliph

resolved to rid himself of the whole family. The story is too well known

to need repetition.[491] Ja‘far alone was put to death: we may conclude,

therefore, that he had specially excited the Caliph's anger; and those

who ascribe the catastrophe to his romantic love-affair with Hárún's

sister, ‘Abbása, are probably in the right.[492] Hárún himself seems to

have recognised, when it was too late, how much he owed to these great

Persian barons whose tactful administration, unbounded generosity, and

munificent patronage of literature have shed immortal lustre on his

reign. Afterwards, if any persons spoke ill of the Barmecides in his

presence, he would say (quoting the verse of Ḥuṭay’a):--[493]

"O slanderers, be your sire of sire bereft![494]

Give o'er, or fill the gap which they have left."