[Sidenote: Hárún al-Rashíd (786-809 A.D.).]

Hárún's orthodoxy, his liberality, his victories over the Byzantine

Emperor Nicephorus, and last but not least the literary brilliance of

his reign have raised him in popular estimation far above all the other

Caliphs: he is the Charlemagne of the East, while the entrancing pages

of the _Thousand and One Nights_ have made his name a household word in

every country of Europe. Students of Moslem history will soon discover

that "the good Haroun Alraschid" was in fact a perfidious and irascible

tyrant, whose fitful amiability and real taste for music and letters

hardly entitle him to be described either as a great monarch or a good

man. We must grant, however, that he thoroughly understood the noble art

of patronage. The poets Abú Nuwás, Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya, Di‘bil, Muslim b.

Walíd, and ‘Abbás b. Aḥnaf; the musician Ibráhím of Mosul and his son

Isḥáq; the philologists Abú ‘Ubayda, Aṣma‘í, and Kisá’í; the

preacher Ibnu ’l-Sammák; and the historian Wáqidí--these are but a few

names in the galaxy of talent which he gathered around him at Baghdád.

[Sidenote: Amín and Ma’mún (809-833 A.D.).]

The fall of the Barmecides revived the spirit of racial antagonism which

they had done their best to lay, and an open rupture was rendered

inevitable by the short-sighted policy of Hárún with regard to the

succession. He had two grown-up sons, Amín, by his wife and cousin

Zubayda, and Ma’mún, whose mother was a Persian slave. It was arranged

that the Caliphate should pass to Amín and after him to his brother, but

that the Empire should be divided between them. Amín was to receive

‘Iráq and Syria, Ma’mún the eastern provinces, where the people would

gladly welcome a ruler of their own blood. The struggle for supremacy

which began almost immediately on the death of Hárún was in the main one

of Persians against Arabs, and by Ma’mún's triumph the Barmecides were

amply avenged.

[Sidenote: Ma’mún's heresies.]

[Sidenote: Rise of independent dynasties.]

[Sidenote: Turkish mercenaries introduced.]

[Sidenote: Decline of the Caliphate.]

The new Caliph was anything but orthodox. He favoured the Shí‘ite party

to such an extent that he even nominated the ‘Alid, ‘Alí b. Músá b.

Ja‘far al-Riḍá, as heir-apparent--a step which alienated the members

of his own family and led to his being temporarily deposed. He also

adopted the opinions of the Mu‘tazilite sect and established an

Inquisition to enforce them. Hence the Sunnite historian, Abu

’l-Maḥásin, enumerates three principal heresies of which Ma’mún was

guilty: (1) His wearing of the Green (_labsu ’l-Khuḍra_)[495] and

courting the ‘Alids and repulsing the ‘Abbásids; (2) his affirming that

the Koran was created (_al-qawl bi-Khalqi ’l-Qur’án_); and (3) his

legalisation of the _mut‘a_, a loose form of marriage prevailing amongst

the Shí‘ites.[496] We shall see in due course how keenly and with what

fruitful results Ma’mún interested himself in literature and science.

Nevertheless, it cannot escape our attention that in this splendid reign

there appear ominous signs of political decay. In 822 A.D. Ṭáhir, one

of Ma’mún's generals, who had been appointed governor of Khurásán,

omitted the customary mention of the Caliph's name from the Friday

sermon (_khuṭba_), thus founding the Ṭahirid dynasty, which,

though professing allegiance to the Caliphs, was practically

independent. Ṭáhir was only the first of a long series of ambitious

governors and bold adventurers who profited by the weakening authority

of the Caliphs to carve out kingdoms for themselves. Moreover, the

Moslems of ‘Iráq had lost their old warlike spirit: they were fine

scholars and merchants, but poor soldiers. So it came about that

Ma’mún's successor, the Caliph Mu‘taṣim (833-842 A.D.), took the

fatal step of surrounding himself with a Prætorian Guard chiefly

composed of Turkish recruits from Transoxania. At the same time he

removed his court from Baghdád sixty miles further up the Tigris to

Sámarrá, which suddenly grew into a superb city of palaces and

barracks--an Oriental Versailles.[497] Here we may close our brief

review of the first and flourishing period of the ‘Abbásid Caliphate.

During the next four centuries the Caliphs come and go faster than ever,

but for the most part their authority is precarious, if not purely

nominal. Meanwhile, in the provinces of the Empire petty dynasties

arise, only to eke out an obscure and troubled existence, or powerful

states are formed, which carry on the traditions of Muḥammadan

culture, it may be through many generations, and in some measure restore

the blessings of peace and settled government to an age surfeited with

anarchy and bloodshed. Of these provincial empires we have now

principally to speak, confining our view, for the most part, to the

political outlines, and reserving the literary and religious aspects of

the period for fuller consideration elsewhere.

[Sidenote: The Second ‘Abbásid Period (847-1258 A.D.).]

The reigns of Mutawakkil (847-861 A.D.) and his immediate successors

exhibit all the well-known features of Prætorian rule. Enormous sums

were lavished on the Turkish soldiery, who elected and deposed the

Caliph just as they pleased, and enforced their insatiable demands by

mutiny and assassination. For a short time (869-907 A.D.) matters

improved under the able and energetic Muhtadí and the four Caliphs who

followed him; but the Turks soon regained the upper hand. From this date

every vestige of real power is centred in the Generalissimo (_Amíru

’l-Umará_) who stands at the head of the army, while the once omnipotent

Caliph must needs be satisfied with the empty honour of having his name

stamped on the coinage and celebrated in the public prayers. The

terrorism of the Turkish bodyguard was broken by the Buwayhids, a

Persian dynasty, who ruled in Baghdád from 945 to 1055 A.D. Then the

Seljúq supremacy began with Ṭughril Beg's entry into the capital and

lasted a full century until the death of Sanjar (1157 A.D.). The Mongols

who captured Baghdád in 1258 A.D. brought the pitiable farce of the

Caliphate to an end.

[Sidenote: Dynasties of the early ‘Abbásid Age.]

"The empire of the Caliphs at its widest," as Stanley Lane-Poole

observes in his excellent account of the Muḥammadan dynasties,

"extended from the Atlantic to the Indus, and from the Caspian to

the cataracts of the Nile. So vast a dominion could not long be held

together. The first step towards its disintegration began in Spain,

where ‘Abdu ’l-Raḥmán, a member of the suppressed Umayyad family,

was acknowledged as an independent sovereign in A.D. 755, and the

‘Abbásid Caliphate was renounced for ever. Thirty years later Idrís,

a great-grandson of the Caliph ‘Alí, and therefore equally at

variance with ‘Abbásids and Umayyads, founded an ‘Alid dynasty in

Morocco. The rest of the North African coast was practically lost to

the Caliphate when the Aghlabid governor established his authority

at Qayrawán in A.D. 800."

[Sidenote: Dynasties of the Second Period. 872 A.D.]

[Sidenote: The Sámánids (874-999 A.D.).]

Amongst the innumerable kingdoms which supplanted the decaying Caliphate

only a few of the most important can be singled out for special notice

on account of their literary or religious interest.[498] To begin with

Persia: in Khurásán, which was then held by the Ṭáhirids, fell into

the hands of Ya‘qúb b. Layth the Coppersmith (_al-Ṣaffár_), founder

of the Ṣaffárids, who for thirty years stretched their sway over a

great part of Persia, until they were dispossessed by the Sámánids. The

latter dynasty had the seat of its power in Transoxania, but during the

first half of the tenth century practically the whole of Persia

submitted to the authority of Ismá‘íl and his famous successors, Naṣr

II and Núḥ I. Not only did these princes warmly encourage and foster

the development, which had already begun, of a national literature in

the Persian language--it is enough to recall here the names of Rúdagí,

the blind minstrel and poet; Daqíqí, whose fragment of a Persian Epic

was afterwards incorporated by Firdawsí in his _Sháhnáma_; and Bal‘amí,

the Vizier of Manṣúr I, who composed an abridgment of Ṭabarí's

great history, which is one of the oldest prose works in Persian that

have come down to us--but they extended the same favour to poets and men

of learning who (though, for the most part, of Persian extraction)

preferred to use the Arabic language. Thus the celebrated Rhazes (Abú

Bakr al-Rází) dedicated to the Sámánid prince Abú Ṣáliḥ Manṣúr

b. Isháq a treatise on medicine, which he entitled _al-Kitáb

al-Manṣúrí_ (the Book of Manṣúr) in honour of his patron. The

great physician and philosopher, Abú ‘Alí b. Síná (Avicenna) relates

that, having been summoned to Bukhárá by King Núḥ, the second of that

name (976-997 A.D.), he obtained permission to visit the royal library.

"I found there," he says, "many rooms filled with books which were

arranged in cases row upon row. One room was allotted to works on Arabic

philology and poetry; another to jurisprudence, and so forth, the books

on each particular science having a room to themselves. I inspected the

catalogue of ancient Greek authors and looked for the books which I

required: I saw in this collection books of which few people have heard

even the names, and which I myself have never seen either before or

since."[499]

[Sidenote: The Buwayhids (932-1055 A.D.).]

The power of the Sámánids quickly reached its zenith, and about the

middle of the tenth century they were confined to Khurásán and

Transoxania, while in Western Persia their place was taken by the

Buwayhids. Abú Shujá‘ Buwayh, a chieftain of Daylam, the mountainous

province lying along the southern shores of the Caspian Sea, was one of

those soldiers of fortune whom we meet with so frequently in the history

of this period. His three sons, ‘Alí, Aḥmad, and Ḥasan, embarked

on the same adventurous career with such energy and success, that in the

course of thirteen years they not only subdued the provinces of Fárs and

Khúzistán, but in 945 A.D. entered Baghdád at the head of their

Daylamite troops and assumed the supreme command, receiving from the

Caliph Mustakfí the honorary titles of ‘Imádu ’l-Dawla, Mu‘izzu

’l-Dawla, and Ruknu ’l-Dawla. Among the princes of this House, who

reigned over Persia and ‘Iráq during the next hundred years, the most

eminent was ‘Aḍudu ’l-Dawla, of whom it is said by Ibn Khallikán that

none of the Buwayhids, notwithstanding their great power and authority,

possessed so extensive an empire and held sway over so many kings and

kingdoms as he. The chief poets of the day, including Mutanabbí, visited

his court at Shíráz and celebrated his praises in magnificent odes. He

also built a great hospital in Baghdád, the Bímáristán al-‘Aḍudí,

which was long famous as a school of medicine. The Viziers of the

Buwayhid family contributed in a quite unusual degree to its literary

renown. Ibnu ’l-‘Amíd, the Vizier of Ruknu ’l-Dawla, surpassed in

philology and epistolary composition all his contemporaries; hence he

was called 'the second Jáḥiẓ,' and it was a common saying that

"the art of letter-writing began with ‘Abdu ’l-Ḥamíd and ended with

Ibnu ’l-‘Amíd."[500] His friend, the Ṣáḥib Ismá‘íl b. ‘Abbád,

Vizier to Mu’ayyidu ’l-Dawla and Fakhru ’l-Dawla, was a distinguished

savant, whose learning was only eclipsed by the liberality of his

patronage. In the latter respect Sábúr b. Ardashír, the prime minister

of Abú Naṣr Bahá’u ’l-Dawla, vied with the illustrious Ṣáḥib.

He had so many encomiasts that Tha‘álibí devotes to them a whole chapter

of the _Yatíma_. The Academy which he founded at Baghdád, in the Karkh

quarter, and generously endowed, was a favourite haunt of literary men,

and its members seem to have enjoyed pretty much the same privileges as

belong to the Fellows of an Oxford or Cambridge College.[501]

Like most of their countrymen, the Buwayhids were Shí‘ites in religion.

We read in the Annals of Abu ’l-Maḥásin under the year 341 A.H. = 952

A.D.:--

[Sidenote: Zeal of the Buwayhids for Shí‘ite principles.]

"In this year the Vizier al-Muhallabí arrested some persons who held

the doctrine of metempsychosis (_tanásukh_). Among them were a youth

who declared that the spirit of ‘Alí b. Abí Ṭálib had passed into

his body, and a woman who claimed that the spirit of Fáṭima was

dwelling in her; while another man pretended to be Gabriel. On being

flogged, they excused themselves by alleging their relationship to

the Family of the Prophet, whereupon Mu‘izzu ’l-Dawla ordered them

to be set free. This he did because of his attachment to Shí‘ism. It

is well known," says the author in conclusion, "that the Buwayhids

were Shí‘ites and Ráfiḍites."[502]

[Sidenote: The Ghaznevids (976-1186 A.D.).]

Three dynasties contemporary with the Buwayhids have still to be

mentioned: the Ghaznevids in Afghanistan, the Ḥamdánids in Syria, and

the Fáṭimids in Egypt. Sabuktagín, the founder of the first-named

dynasty, was a Turkish slave. His son, Maḥmúd, who succeeded to the

throne of Ghazna in 998 A.D., made short work of the already tottering

Sámánids, and then sweeping far and wide over Northern India, began a

series of conquests which, before his death in 1030 A.D., reached from

Lahore to Samarcand and Iṣfahán. Although the Persian and

Transoxanian provinces of his huge empire were soon torn away by the

Seljúqs, Maḥmúd's invasion of India, which was undertaken with the

object of winning that country for Islam, permanently established

Muḥammadan influence, at any rate in the Panjáb. As regards their

religious views, the Turkish Ghaznevids stand in sharp contrast with the

Persian houses of Sámán and Buwayh. It has been well said that the true

genius of the Turks lies in action, not in speculation. When Islam came

across their path, they saw that it was a simple and practical creed

such as the soldier requires; so they accepted it without further

parley. The Turks have always remained loyal to Islam, the Islam of Abú

Bakr and ‘Umar, which is a very different thing from the Islam of

Shí‘ite Persia. Maḥmúd proved his orthodoxy by banishing the

Mu‘tazilites of Rayy and burning their books together with the

philosophical and astronomical works that fell into his hands; but on

the same occasion he carried off a hundred camel-loads of presumably

harmless literature to his capital. That he had no deep enthusiasm for

letters is shown, for example, by his shabby treatment of the poet

Firdawsí. Nevertheless, he ardently desired the glory and prestige

accruing to a sovereign whose court formed the rallying-point of all

that was best in the literary and scientific culture of the day, and

such was Ghazna in the eleventh century. Besides the brilliant group of

Persian poets, with Firdawsí at their head, we may mention among the

Arabic-writing authors who flourished under this dynasty the historians

al-‘Utbí and al-Bírúní.

[Sidenote: The Ḥamdánids (929-1003 A.D.).]

While the Eastern Empire of Islam was passing into the hands of Persians

and Turks, we find the Arabs still holding their own in Syria and

Mesopotamia down to the end of the tenth century. These Arab and

generally nomadic dynasties were seldom of much account. The

Ḥamdánids of Aleppo alone deserve to be noticed here, and that

chiefly for the sake of the peerless Sayfu ’l-Dawla, a worthy descendant

of the tribe of Taghlib, which in the days of heathendom produced the

poet-warrior, ‘Amr b. Kulthúm. ‘Abdulláh b. Ḥamdán was appointed

governor of Mosul and its dependencies by the Caliph Muktafí in 905

A.D., and in 942 his sons Ḥasan and ‘Alí received the complimentary

titles of Náṣiru ’l-Dawla (Defender of the State) and Sayfu ’l-Dawla

(Sword of the State). Two years later Sayfu ’l-Dawla captured Aleppo and

brought the whole of Northern Syria under his dominion. During a reign

of twenty-three years he was continuously engaged in harrying the

Byzantines on the frontiers of Asia Minor, but although he gained some

glorious victories, which his laureate Mutanabbí has immortalised, the

fortune of war went in the long run steadily against him, and his

successors were unable to preserve their little kingdom from being

crushed between the Byzantines in the north and the Fáṭtimids in the

south. The Ḥamdánids have an especial claim on our sympathy, because

they revived for a time the fast-decaying and already almost broken

spirit of Arabian nationalism. It is this spirit that speaks with a

powerful voice in Mutanabbí and declares itself, for example, in such

verses as these:--[503]

"Men from their kings alone their worth derive,

But Arabs ruled by aliens cannot thrive:

Boors without culture, without noble fame,

Who know not loyalty and honour's name.

Go where thou wilt, thou seest in every land

Folk driven like cattle by a servile band."

[Sidenote: The circle of Sayfu ’l-Dawla.]

The reputation which Sayfu ’l-Dawla's martial exploits and his repeated

triumphs over the enemies of Islam richly earned for him in the eyes of

his contemporaries was enhanced by the conspicuous energy and

munificence with which he cultivated the arts of peace. Considering the

brevity of his reign and the relatively small extent of his resources,

we may well be astonished to contemplate the unique assemblage of

literary talent then mustered in Aleppo. There was, first of all,

Mutanabbí, in the opinion of his countrymen the greatest of Moslem

poets; there was Sayfu ’l-Dawla's cousin, the chivalrous Abú Firás,

whose war-songs are relieved by many a touch of tender and true feeling;

there was Abu ’l-Faraj of Iṣfahán, who on presenting to Sayfu

’l-Dawla his _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, one of the most celebrated and

important works in all Arabic literature, received one thousand pieces

of gold accompanied with an expression of regret that the prince was

obliged to remunerate him so inadequately; there was also the great

philosopher, Abú Naṣr al-Fárábí, whose modest wants were satisfied by

a daily pension of four dirhems (about two shillings) from the public

treasury. Surely this is a record not easily surpassed even in the

heyday of ‘Abbásid patronage. As for the writers of less note whom Sayfu

’l-Dawla attracted to Aleppo, their name is legion. Space must be found

for the poets Sarí al-Raffá, Abu ’l-‘Abbás al-Námí, and Abu ’l-Faraj

al-Babbaghá for the preacher (_khaṭíb_) Ibn Nubáta, who would often

rouse the enthusiasm of his audience while he urged the duty of

zealously prosecuting the Holy War against Christian Byzantium; and for

the philologist Ibn Khálawayh, whose lectures were attended by students

from all parts of the Muḥammadan world. The literary renaissance

which began at this time in Syria was still making its influence felt

when Tha‘álibí wrote his _Yatíma_, about thirty years after the death of

Sayfu ’l-Dawla, and it produced in Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí (born 973

A.D.) an original and highly interesting personality, to whom we shall

return on another occasion.

[Sidenote: The Fáṭimids (909-1171 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: The Ismá‘ílite propaganda.]

The dynasties hitherto described were political in their origin, having

generally been founded by ambitious governors or vassals. These upstarts

made no pretensions to the nominal authority, which they left in the

hands of the Caliph even while they forced him at the sword's point to

recognise their political independence. The Sámánids and Buwayhids,

Shí‘ites as they were, paid the same homage to the Caliph in Baghdád as

did the Sunnite Ghaznevids. But in the beginning of the tenth century

there arose in Africa a great Shí‘ite power, that of the Fáṭimids,

who took for themselves the title and prerogatives of the Caliphate,

which they asserted to be theirs by right Divine. This event was only

the climax of a deep-laid and skilfully organised plot--one of the most

extraordinary in all history. It had been put in train half a century

earlier by a certain ‘Abdulláh the son of Maymún, a Persian oculist

(_qaddáḥ_) belonging to Aḥwáz. Filled with a fierce hatred of the

Arabs and with a freethinker's contempt for Islam, ‘Abdulláh b. Maymún

conceived the idea of a vast secret society which should be all things

to all men, and which, by playing on the strongest passions and tempting

the inmost weaknesses of human nature, should unite malcontents of every

description in a conspiracy to overthrow the existing _régime_. Modern

readers may find a parallel for this romantic project in the pages of

Dumas, although the Aramis of _Twenty Years After_ is a simpleton beside

‘Abdulláh. He saw that the movement, in order to succeed, must be

started on a religious basis, and he therefore identified himself with

an obscure Shí‘ite sect, the Ismá‘ílís, who were so called because they

regarded Muḥammad, son of Ismá‘íl, son of Ja‘far al-Ṣádiq, as the

Seventh Imám. Under ‘Abdulláh the Ismá‘ílís developed their mystical and

antinomian doctrines, of which an excellent account has been given by

Professor Browne in the first volume of his _Literary History of Persia_

(p. 405 sqq.). Here we can only refer to the ingenious and fatally

insidious methods which he devised for gaining proselytes on a gigantic

scale, and with such amazing success that from this time until the

Mongol invasion--a period of almost four centuries--the Ismá‘ílites

(Fáṭimids, Carmathians, and Assassins) either ruled or ravaged a

great part of the Muḥammadan Empire. It is unnecessary to discuss the

question whether ‘Abdulláh b. Maymún was, as Professor Browne thinks,

primarily a religious enthusiast, or whether, according to the view

commonly held, his real motives were patriotism and personal ambition.

The history of Islam shows clearly enough that the revolutionist is

nearly always disguised as a religious leader, while, on the other hand,

every founder of a militant sect is potentially the head of a state.

‘Abdulláh may have been a fanatic first and a politician afterwards;

more probably he was both at once from the beginning. His plan of

operations was briefly as follows:--

The _dá‘í_ or missionary charged with the task of gaining adherents

for the Hidden Imám (see p. 216 seq.), in whose name allegiance was

demanded, would settle in some place, representing himself to be a

merchant, Ṣúfí, or the like. By renouncing worldly pleasures,

making a show of strict piety, and performing apparent miracles, it

was easy for him to pass as a saint with the common folk. As soon as

he was assured of his neighbours' confidence and respect, he began

to raise doubts in their minds. He would suggest difficult problems

of theology or dwell on the mysterious significance of certain

passages of the Koran. May there not be (he would ask) in religion

itself a deeper meaning than appears on the surface? Then, having

excited the curiosity of his hearers, he suddenly breaks off. When

pressed to continue his explanation, he declares that such mysteries

cannot be communicated save to those who take a binding oath of

secrecy and obedience and consent to pay a fixed sum of money in

token of their good faith. If these conditions were accepted, the

neophyte entered upon the second of the nine degrees of initiation.

He was taught that mere observance of the laws of Islam is not

pleasing to God, unless the true doctrine be received through the

Imáms who have it in keeping. These Imáms (as he next learned) are

seven in number, beginning with ‘Alí; the seventh and last is

Muḥammad, son of Ismá‘íl. On reaching the fourth degree he

definitely ceased to be a Moslem, for here he was taught the

Ismá‘ílite system of theology in which Muḥammad b. Ismá‘íl

supersedes the founder of Islam as the greatest and last of all the

Prophets. Comparatively few initiates advanced beyond this grade to

a point where every form of positive religion was allegorised away,

and only philosophy was left. "It is clear what a tremendous weapon,

or rather machine, was thus created. Each man was given the amount

of light which he could bear and which was suited to his prejudices,

and he was made to believe that the end of the whole work would be

the attaining of what he regarded as most desirable."[504] Moreover,

the Imám Muḥammad b. Ismá‘íl having disappeared long ago, the

veneration which sought a visible object was naturally transferred

to his successor and representative on earth, viz., ‘Abdulláh b.

Maymún, who filled the same office in relation to him as Aaron to

Moses and ‘Alí to Muḥammad.

About the middle of the ninth century the state of the Moslem Empire was

worse, if possible, than it had been in the latter days of Umayyad rule.

The peasantry of ‘Iráq were impoverished by the desolation into which

that flourishing province was beginning to fall in consequence of the

frequent and prolonged civil wars. In 869 A.D. the negro slaves (_Zanj_)

employed in the saltpetre industry, for which Baṣra was famous, took

up arms at the call of an ‘Alid Messiah, and during fourteen years

carried fire and sword through Khúzistán and the adjacent territory. We

can imagine that all this misery and discontent was a godsend to the

Ismá‘ílites. The old cry, "A deliverer of the Prophet's House," which

served the ‘Abbásids so well against the Umayyads, was now raised with

no less effect against the ‘Abbásids themselves.

[Sidenote: The Fáṭimid dynasty founded by the Mahdí ‘Ubaydu’lláh (909

A.D.).]

‘Abdulláh b. Maymún died in 875 A.D., but the agitation went on, and

rapidly gathered force. One of the leading spirits was Ḥamdán

Qarmaṭ, who gave his name to the Carmathian branch of the Ismá‘ílís.

These Carmathians (_Qarámiṭa_, sing. _Qirmiṭí_) spread over

Southern Persia and Yemen, and in the tenth century they threatened

Baghdád, repeatedly waylaid the pilgrim-caravans, sacked Mecca and bore

away the Black Stone as a trophy; in short, established a veritable

reign of terror. We must return, however, to the main Ismá‘ílite faction

headed by the descendants of ‘Abdulláh b. Maymún. Their emissaries

discovered a promising field of work in North Africa among the credulous

and fanatical Berbers. When all was ripe, Sa‘íd b. Ḥusayn, the

grandson of ‘Abdulláh b. Maymún, left Salamya in Syria, the centre from

which the wires had hitherto been pulled, and crossing over to Africa

appeared as the long-expected Mahdí under the name of ‘Ubaydu’lláh. He

gave himself out to be a great-grandson of the Imám Muḥammad b.

Ismá‘íl and therefore in the direct line of descent from ‘Alí b. Abí

Ṭálib and Fáṭima the daughter of the Prophet. We need not stop to

discuss this highly questionable genealogy from which the Fáṭimid

dynasty derives its name. In 910 A.D. ‘Ubaydu’lláh entered Raqqáda in

triumph and assumed the title of Commander of the Faithful. Tunis, where

the Aghlabites had ruled since 800 A.D., was the cradle of Fáṭimid

power, and here they built their capital, Mahdiyya, near the ancient

Thapsus. Gradually advancing eastward, they conquered Egypt and Syria as

far as Damascus (969-970 A.D.). At this time the seat of government was

removed to the newly-founded city of Cairo (_al-Qáhira_), which remained

for two centuries the metropolis of the Fáṭimid Empire.[505]

[Sidenote: The Ayyúbids (1171-1250 A.D.).]

The Shí‘ite Anti-Caliphs maintained themselves in Egypt until 1171 A.D.,

when the famous Saladin (Ṣaláḥu ’l-Dín b. Ayyúb) took possession

of that country and restored the Sunnite faith. He soon added Syria to

his dominions, and "the fall of Jerusalem (in 1187) roused Europe to

undertake the Third Crusade." The Ayyúbids were strictly orthodox, as

behoved the champions of Islam against Christianity. They built and

endowed many theological colleges. The Ṣúfí pantheist, Shihábu ’l-Dín

Yaḥyá al-Suhrawardí, was executed at Aleppo by order of Saladin's

son, Malik al-Ẓáhir, in 1191 A.D.

[Sidenote: The Seljúqs (1037-1300 A.D.).]

The two centuries preceding the extinction of the ‘Abbásid Caliphate by

the Mongols witnessed the rise and decline of the Seljúq Turks, who

"once more re-united Muḥammadan Asia from the western frontier of

Afghanistan to the Mediterranean under one sovereign." Seljúq b. Tuqáq

was a Turcoman chief. Entering Transoxania, he settled near Bukhárá and

went over with his whole people to Islam. His descendants, Ṭughril

Beg and Chagar Beg, invaded Khurásán, annexed the western provinces of

the Ghaznevid Empire, and finally absorbed the remaining dominions of

the Buwayhids. Baghdád was occupied by Ṭughril Beg in 1055 A.D. It

has been said that the Seljúqs contributed almost nothing to culture,

but this perhaps needs some qualification. Although Alp Arslán, who

succeeded Ṭughril, and his son Malik Sháh devoted their energies in

the first place to military affairs, the latter at least was an

accomplished and enlightened monarch. "He exerted himself to spread the

benefits of civilisation: he dug numerous canals, walled a great number

of cities, built bridges, and constructed _ribáṭs_ in the desert

places."[506] He was deeply interested in astronomy, and scientific as

well as theological studies received his patronage. Any shortcomings of

Alp Arslán and Malik Sháh in this respect were amply repaired by their

famous minister, Ḥasan b. ‘Alí, the Niẓámu ’l-Mulk or 'Constable

of the Empire,' to give him the title which he has made his own. Like so

many great Viziers, he was a Persian, and his achievements must not

detain us here, but it may be mentioned that he founded in Baghdád and

Naysábúr the two celebrated academies which were called in his honour

al-Niẓámiyya.

[Sidenote: Arabia and Spain.]

We have now taken a general, though perforce an extremely curtailed and

disconnected, view of the political conditions which existed during the

‘Abbásid period in most parts of the Muḥammadan Empire except Arabia

and Spain. The motherland of Islam had long sunk to the level of a minor

province: leaving the Holy Cities out of consideration, one might

compare its inglorious destiny under the Caliphate to that of Macedonia

in the empire which Alexander bequeathed to his successors, the

Ptolemies and Seleucids. As regards the political history of Spain a few

words will conveniently be said in a subsequent chapter, where the

literature produced by Spanish Moslems will demand our attention. In the

meantime we shall pass on to the characteristic literary developments of

this period, which correspond more or less closely to the historical

outlines.

The first thing that strikes the student of mediæval Arabic literature

is the fact that a very large proportion of the leading writers are

non-Arabs, or at best semi-Arabs, men whose fathers or mothers were of

foreign, and especially Persian, race. They wrote in Arabic, because

down to about 1000 A.D. that language was the sole medium of literary

expression in the Muḥammadan world, a monopoly which it retained in

scientific compositions until the Mongol Invasion of the thirteenth

century. I have already referred to the question whether such men as

Bashshár b. Burd, Abú Nuwás, Ibn Qutayba, Ṭabarí, Ghazálí, and

hundreds of others should be included in a literary history of the

Arabs, and have given reasons, which I need not repeat in this place,

for considering their admission to be not only desirable but fully

justified on logical grounds.[507] The absurdity of treating them as

Persians--and there is no alternative, if they are not to be reckoned as

Arabs--appears to me self-evident.

"It is strange," says Ibn Khaldún, "that most of the learned among the

Moslems who have excelled in the religious or intellectual sciences are

non-Arabs (_‘Ajam_) with rare exceptions; and even those savants who

claimed Arabian descent spoke a foreign language, grew up in foreign

lands, and studied under foreign masters, notwithstanding that the

community to which they belonged was Arabian and the author of its

religion an Arab." The historian proceeds to explain the cause of this

singular circumstance in an interesting passage which may be summarised

as follows:--

[Sidenote: Ibn Khaldún's explanation of the fact that learning was

chiefly cultivated by the Persian Moslems.]

The first Moslems were entirely ignorant of art and science, all

their attention being devoted to the ordinances of the Koran, which

they "carried in their breasts," and to the practice (_sunna_) of

the Prophet. At that time the Arabs knew nothing of the way by which

learning is taught, of the art of composing books, and of the means

whereby knowledge is enregistered. Those, however, who could repeat

the Koran and relate the Traditions of Muḥammad were called

Readers (_qurrá_). This oral transmission continued until the reign

of Hárún al-Rashíd, when the need of securing the Traditions against

corruption or of preventing their total loss caused them to be set

down in writing; and in order to distinguish the genuine Traditions

from the spurious, every _isnád_ (chain of witnesses) was carefully

scrutinised. Meanwhile the purity of the Arabic tongue had gradually

become impaired: hence arose the science of grammar; and the rapid

development of Law and Divinity brought it about that other

sciences, _e.g._, logic and dialectic, were professionally

cultivated in the great cities of the Muḥammadan Empire. The

inhabitants of these cities were chiefly Persians, freedmen and

tradesmen, who had been long accustomed to the arts of civilisation.

Accordingly the most eminent of the early grammarians,

traditionists, and scholastic theologians, as well as of those

learned in the principles of Law and in the interpretation of the

Koran, were Persians by race or education, and the saying of the

Prophet was verified--"_If Knowledge were attached to the ends of

the sky, some amongst the Persians would have reached it._" Amidst

all this intellectual activity the Arabs, who had recently emerged

from a nomadic life, found the exercise of military and

administrative command too engrossing to give them leisure for

literary avocations which have always been disdained by a ruling

caste. They left such studies to the Persians and the mixed race

(_al-muwalladún_), which sprang from intermarriage of the conquerors

with the conquered. They did not entirely look down upon the men of

learning but recognised their services--since after all it was Islam

and the sciences connected with Islam that profited thereby.[508]

Even in the Umayyad period, as we have seen, the maxim that Knowledge is

Power was strikingly illustrated by the immense social influence which

Persian divines exerted in the Muḥammadan community.[509]

Nevertheless, true Arabs of the old type regarded these _Mawálí_ and

their learning with undisguised contempt. To the great majority of

Arabs, who prided themselves on their noble lineage and were content to

know nothing beyond the glorious traditions of heathendom and the

virtues practised by their sires, all literary culture seemed petty and

degrading. Their overbearing attitude towards the _Mawálí_, which is

admirably depicted in the first part of Goldziher's _Muhammedanische

Studien_, met with a vigorous response. Non-Arabs and Moslem pietists

alike appealed to the highest authority--the Koran; and since they

required a more definite and emphatic pronouncement than was forthcoming

from that source, they put in the mouth of the Prophet sayings like

these: "He that speaks Arabic is thereby an Arab"; "whoever of the

people of Persia accepts Islam is (as much an Arab as) one of Quraysh."

This doctrine made no impression upon the Arabian aristocracy, but with

the downfall of the Umayyads the political and social equality of the

_Mawálí_ became an accomplished fact. Not that the Arabs were at all

disposed to abate their pretensions. They bitterly resented the favour

which the foreigners enjoyed and the influence which they exercised. The

national indignation finds a voice in many poems of the early ‘Abbásid

period, _e.g._:--

"See how the asses which they used to ride

They have unsaddled, and sleek mules bestride!

No longer kitchen-herbs they buy and sell,[510]

But in the palace and the court they dwell;

Against us Arabs full of rage and spleen,

Hating the Prophet and the Moslem's _dín_."[511]

[Sidenote: The Shu‘úbites.]

The side of the non-Arabs in this literary quarrel was vehemently

espoused by a party who called themselves the Shu‘úbites

(_al-Shu‘úbiyya_),[512] while their opponents gave them the name of

Levellers (_Ahlu ’l-Taswiya_), because they contended for the equality

of all Moslems without regard to distinctions of race. I must refer the

reader who seeks information concerning the history of the movement to

Goldziher's masterly study,[513] where the controversial methods adopted

by the Shu‘úbites are set forth in ample detail. He shows how the bolder

spirits among them, not satisfied with claiming an _equal_ position,

argued that the Arabs were absolutely inferior to the Persians and other

peoples. The question was hotly debated, and many eminent writers took

part in the fray. On the Shu‘úbite side Abú ‘Ubayda, Bírúní, and

Ḥamza of Iṣfahán deserve mention. Jáḥiẓ and Ibn Durayd

were the most notable defenders of their own Arabian nationality, but

the 'pro-Arabs' also included several men of Persian origin, such as Ibn

Qutayba, Baládhurí, and Zamakhsharí. The Shu‘úbites directed their

attacks principally against the racial pride of the Arabs, who were fond

of boasting that they were the noblest of all mankind and spoke the

purest and richest language in the world. Consequently the Persian

genealogists and philologists lost no opportunity of bringing to light

scandalous and discreditable circumstances connected with the history of

the Arab tribes or of particular families. Arabian poetry, especially

the vituperative pieces (_mathálib_), furnished abundant matter of this

sort, which was adduced by the Shu‘úbites as convincing evidence that

the claims of the Arabs to superior nobility were absurd. At the same

time the national view as to the unique and incomparable excellence of

the Arabic language received some rude criticism.

[Sidenote: Assimilation of Arabs and Persians.]

[Sidenote: Enthusiasm for learning in the early ‘Abbásid period.]

So acute and irreconcilable were the racial differences between Arabs

and Persians that one is astonished to see how thoroughly the latter

became Arabicised in the course of a few generations. As clients

affiliated to an Arab tribe, they assumed Arabic names and sought to

disguise their foreign extraction by fair means or foul. Many provided

themselves with fictitious pedigrees, on the strength of which they

passed for Arabs. Such a pretence could have deceived nobody if it had

not been supported by a complete assimilation in language, manners, and

even to some extent in character. On the neutral ground of Muḥammadan

science animosities were laid aside, and men of both races laboured

enthusiastically for the common cause. When at length, after a century

of bloody strife and engrossing political agitation, the great majority

of Moslems found themselves debarred from taking part in public affairs,

it was only natural that thousands of ardent and ambitious souls should

throw their pent-up energies into the pursuit of wealth or learning. We

are not concerned here with the marvellous development of trade under

the first ‘Abbásid Caliphs, of which Von Kremer has given a full and

entertaining description in his _Culturgeschichte des Orients_. It may

be recalled, however, that many commercial terms, _e.g._, tariff, names

of fabrics (muslin, tabby, &c.), occurring in English as well as in most

European languages are of Arabic origin and were brought to Europe by

merchants from Baghdád, Mosul, Baṣra, and other cities of Western

Asia. This material expansion was accompanied by an outburst of

intellectual activity such as the East had never witnessed before. It

seemed as if all the world from the Caliph down to the humblest citizen

suddenly became students, or at least patrons, of literature. In quest

of knowledge men travelled over three continents and returned home, like

bees laden with honey, to impart the precious stores which they had

accumulated to crowds of eager disciples, and to compile with incredible

industry those works of encyclopædic range and erudition from which

modern Science, in the widest sense of the word, has derived far more

than is generally supposed.

[Sidenote: Development of the Moslem sciences.]

The Revolution which made the fortune of the ‘Abbásid House was a

triumph for Islam and the party of religious reform. While under the

worldly Umayyads the studies of Law and Tradition met with no public

encouragement and were only kept alive by the pious zeal of oppressed

theologians, the new dynasty drew its strength from the Muḥammadan

ideas which it professed to establish, and skilfully adapted its policy

to satisfying the ever-increasing claims of the Church. Accordingly the

Moslem sciences which arose at this time proceeded in the first instance

from the Koran and the Ḥadíth. The sacred books offered many

difficulties both to provincial Arabs and especially to Persians and

other Moslems of foreign extraction. For their right understanding a

knowledge of Arabic grammar and philology was essential, and this

involved the study of the ancient Pre-islamic poems which supplied the

most authentic models of Arabian speech in its original purity. The

study of these poems entailed researches into genealogy and history,

which in the course of time became independent branches of learning.

Similarly the science of Tradition was systematically developed in order

to provide Moslems with practical rules for the conduct of life in every

conceivable particular, and various schools of Law sprang into

existence.

[Sidenote: Their classification.]

Muḥammadan writers usually distinguish the sciences which are

connected with the Koran and those which the Arabs learned from foreign

peoples. In the former class they include the Traditional or Religious

Sciences (_al-‘Ulúm al-Naqliyya awi ’l-Shar‘iyya_) and the Linguistic

Sciences (_‘Ulúmu ’l-Lisáni ’l-‘Arabí_); in the latter the Intellectual

or Philosophical Sciences (_al-‘Ulúm al-‘Aqliyya awi ’l-Ḥikmiyya_),

which are sometimes called 'The Sciences of the Foreigners' (_‘Ulúmu

’l-‘Ajam_) or 'The Ancient Sciences' (_al-‘Ulúm al-Qadíma_).

The general scope of this division may be illustrated by the following

table:--

I. THE NATIVE SCIENCES.

1. Koranic Exegesis (_‘Ilmu ’l-Tafsír_).

2. Koranic Criticism (_‘Ilmu ’l-Qirá’át_).

3. The Science of Apostolic Tradition (_‘Ilmu ’l-Ḥadíth_).

4. Jurisprudence (_Fiqh_).

5. Scholastic Theology (_‘Ilmu ’l-Kalám_).

6. Grammar (_Naḥw_).

7. Lexicography (_Lugha_).

8. Rhetoric (_Bayán_).

9. Literature (_Adab_).

II. THE FOREIGN SCIENCES.

1. Philosophy (_Falsafa_).[514]

2. Geometry (_Handasa_).[515]

3. Astronomy (_‘Ilmu ’l-Nujúm_).

4. Music (_Músíqí_).

5. Medicine (_Ṭibb_).

6. Magic and Alchemy (_al-Siḥr wa-’l-Kímiyá_).

[Sidenote: The early ‘Abbásid period favourable to free-thought.]

The religious phenomena of the Period will be discussed in a separate

chapter, and here I can only allude cursorily to their general

character. We have seen that during the whole Umayyad epoch, except in

the brief reign of ‘Umar b. ‘Abd al-‘Azíz, the professors of religion

were out of sympathy with the court, and that many of them withdrew from

all participation in public affairs. It was otherwise when the ‘Abbásids

established themselves in power. Theology now dwelt in the shadow of the

throne and directed the policy of the Government. Honours were showered

on eminent jurists and divines, who frequently held official posts of

high importance and stood in the most confidential and intimate

relations to the Caliph; a classical example is the friendship of the

Cadi Abú Yúsuf and Hárún al-Rashíd. The century after the Revolution

gave birth to the four great schools of Muhammadan Law, which are still

called by the names of their founders--Málik b. Anas, Abú Ḥanífa,

Sháfi‘í, and Ahmad b. Ḥanbal. At this time the scientific and

intellectual movement had free play. The earlier Caliphs usually

encouraged speculation so long as it threatened no danger to the

existing _régime_. Under Ma’mún and his successors the Mu‘tazilite

Rationalism became the State religion, and Islam seemed to have entered

upon an era of enlightenment. Thus the first ‘Abbásid period (750-847

A.D.) with its new learning and liberal theology may well be compared to

the European Renaissance; but in the words of a celebrated Persian

poet--

_Khil‘atí bas fákhir ámad ‘umr ‘aybash kútahíst._[516]

"Life is a very splendid robe: its fault is brevity."

[Sidenote: The triumph of orthodoxy.]

The Caliph Mutawakkil (847-861 A.D.) signalised his accession by

declaring the Mu‘tazilite doctrines to be heretical and by returning to

the traditional faith. Stern measures were taken against dissenters.

Henceforth there was little room in Islam for independent thought. The

populace regarded philosophy and natural science as a species of

infidelity. Authors of works on these subjects ran a serious risk unless

they disguised their true opinions and brought the results of their

investigations into apparent conformity with the text of the Koran.

About the middle of the tenth century the reactionary spirit assumed a

dogmatic shape in the system of Abu ’l-Ḥasan al-Ash‘arí, the father

of Muḥammadan Scholasticism, which is essentially opposed to

intellectual freedom and has maintained its petrifying influence almost

unimpaired down to the present time.

I could wish that this chapter were more worthy of the title which I

have chosen for it, but the foregoing pages will have served their

purpose if they have enabled my readers to form some idea of the

politics of the Period and of the broad features marking the course of

its literary and religious history.

CHAPTER VII

POETRY, LITERATURE, AND SCIENCE IN THE ‘ABBÁSID PERIOD

[Sidenote: The Pre-islamic poets regarded as classical.]

Pre-Islamic poetry was the natural expression of nomad life. We might

therefore have expected that the new conditions and ideas introduced by

Islam would rapidly work a corresponding revolution in the poetical

literature of the following century. Such, however, was far from being

the case. The Umayyad poets clung tenaciously to the great models of the

Heroic Age and even took credit for their skilful imitation of the

antique odes. The early Muḥammadan critics, who were philologists by

profession, held fast to the principle that Poetry in Pre-islamic times

had reached a perfection which no modern bard could hope to emulate, and

which only the lost ideals of chivalry could inspire.[517] To have been

born after Islam was in itself a proof of poetical inferiority.[518]

Linguistic considerations, of course, entered largely into this

prejudice. The old poems were studied as repositories of the pure

classical tongue and were estimated mainly from a grammarian's

standpoint.

[Sidenote: Abú Nuwás as a critic.]

These ideas gained wide acceptance in literary circles and gradually

biassed the popular taste to such an extent that learned pedants could

boast, like Khalíl b. Ahmad, the inventor of Arabic prosody, that it lay

in their power to make or mar the reputation of a rising poet as they

deemed fit. Originality being condemned in advance, those who desired

the approval of this self-constituted Academy were obliged to waste

their time and talents upon elaborate reproduction of the ancient

masterpieces, and to entertain courtiers and citizens with borrowed

pictures of Bedouin life in which neither they nor their audience took

the slightest interest. Some, it is true, recognised the absurdity of

the thing. Abú Nuwás († _circa_ 810 A.D.) often ridicules the custom, to

which reference has been made elsewhere, of apostrophising the deserted

encampment (_aṭlál_ or _ṭulúl_) in the opening lines of an ode,

and pours contempt on the fashionable glorification of antiquity. In the

passage translated below he gives a description of the desert and its

people which recalls some of Dr. Johnson's sallies at the expense of

Scotland and Scotsmen:--

"Let the south-wind moisten with rain the desolate scene

And Time efface what once was so fresh and green!

Make the camel-rider free of a desert space

Where high-bred camels trot with unwearied pace;

Where only mimosas and thistles flourish, and where,

For hunting, wolves and hyenas are nowise rare!

Amongst the Bedouins seek not enjoyment out:

What do they enjoy? They live in hunger and drought.

Let them drink their bowls of milk and leave them alone,

To whom life's finer pleasures are all unknown."[519]

Ibn Qutayba, who died towards the end of the ninth century A.D., was the

first critic of importance to declare that ancients and moderns should

be judged on their merits without regard to their age. He writes as

follows in the Introduction to his 'Book of Poetry and Poets' (_Kitábu

’l-Shi‘r wa-’l-Shu‘ará_):--[520]

[Sidenote: Ibn Qutayba on ancient and modern poets.]

"In citing extracts from the works of the poets I have been guided

by my own choice and have refused to admire anything merely because

others thought it admirable. I have not regarded any ancient with

veneration on account of his antiquity nor any modern with contempt

on account of his being modern, but I have taken an impartial view

of both sides, giving every one his due and amply acknowledging his

merit. Some of our scholars, as I am aware, pronounce a feeble poem

to be good, because its author was an ancient, and include it among

their chosen pieces, while they call a sterling poem bad though its

only fault is that it was composed in their own time or that they

have seen its author. God, however, did not restrict learning and

poetry and rhetoric to a particular age nor appropriate them to a

particular class, but has always distributed them in common amongst

His servants, and has caused everything old to be new in its own day

and every classic work to be an upstart on its first appearance."

[Sidenote: Revolt against classicism.]

The inevitable reaction in favour of the new poetry and of contemporary

literature in general was hastened by various circumstances which

combined to overthrow the prevalent theory that Arabian heathendom and

the characteristic pagan virtues--honour, courage, liberality, &c.--were

alone capable of producing poetical genius. Among the chief currents of

thought tending in this direction, which are lucidly set forth in

Goldziher's essay, pp. 148 sqq., we may note (_a_) the pietistic and

theological spirit fostered by the ‘Abbásid Government, and (_b_) the

influence of foreign, pre-eminently Persian, culture. As to the former,

it is manifest that devout Moslems would not be at all disposed to admit

the exclusive pretensions made on behalf of the _Jáhiliyya_ or to agree

with those who exalted chivalry (_muruwwa_) above religion (_dín_). Were

not the language and style of the Koran incomparably excellent? Surely

the Holy Book was a more proper subject for study than heathen verses.

But if Moslems began to call Pre-islamic ideals in question, it was

especially the Persian ascendancy resulting from the triumph of the

‘Abbásid House that shook the old arrogant belief of the Arabs in the

intellectual supremacy of their race. So far from glorying in the

traditions of paganism, many people thought it grossly insulting to

mention an ‘Abbásid Caliph in the same breath with heroes of the past

like Ḥátim of Ṭayyi’ and Harim b. Sinán. The philosopher al-Kindí

(† about 850 A.D.) rebuked a poet for venturing on such odious

comparisons. "Who are these Arabian vagabonds" (_ṣa‘álíku ’l-‘Arab_),

he asked, "and what worth have they?"[521]

[Sidenote: Critics in favour of the modern school.]

While Ibn Qutayba was content to urge that the modern poets should get a

fair hearing, and should be judged not chronologically or

philologically, but _æsthetically_, some of the greatest literary

critics who came after him do not conceal their opinion that the new

poetry is superior to the old. Tha‘álibí († 1038 A.D.) asserts that in

tenderness and elegance the Pre-islamic bards are surpassed by their

successors, and that both alike have been eclipsed by his

contemporaries. Ibn Rashíq († _circa_ 1070 A.D.), whose _‘Umda_ on the

Art of Poetry is described by Ibn Khaldún as an epoch-making work,

thought that the superiority of the moderns would be acknowledged if

they discarded the obsolete conventions of the Ode. European readers

cannot but sympathise with him when he bids the poets draw inspiration

from nature and truth instead of relating imaginary journeys on a camel

which they never owned, through deserts which they never saw, to a

patron residing in the same city as themselves. This seems to us a very

reasonable and necessary protest, but it must be remembered that the

Bedouin _qaṣída_ was not easily adaptable to the conditions of urban

life, and needed complete remoulding rather than modification in

detail.[522]

[Sidenote: Popularity of the modern poets.]

"In the fifth century," says Goldziher--_i.e._, from about 1000

A.D.--"the dogma of the unattainable perfection of the heathen poets may

be regarded as utterly demolished." Henceforth popular taste ran

strongly in the other direction, as is shown by the immense

preponderance of modern pieces in the anthologies--a favourite and

characteristic branch of Arabic literature--which were compiled during

the ‘Abbásid period and afterwards, and by frequent complaints of the

neglect into which the ancient poetry had fallen. But although, for

Moslems generally, Imru’u ’l-Qays and his fellows came to be more or

less what Chaucer is to the average Englishman, the views first

enunciated by Ibn Qutayba met with bitter opposition from the learned

class, many of whom clung obstinately to the old philological principles

of criticism, and even declined to recognise the writings of Mutanabbí

and Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí as poetry, on the ground that those authors

did not observe the classical 'types' (_asálíb_).[523] The result of

such pedantry may be seen at the present day in thousands of

_qaṣídas_, abounding in archaisms and allusions to forgotten far-off

things of merely antiquarian interest, but possessing no more claim to

consideration here than the Greek and Latin verses of British scholars

in a literary history of the Victorian Age.

[Sidenote: Characteristics of the new poetry.]

Passing now to the characteristics of the new poetry which followed the

accession of the ‘Abbásids, we have to bear in mind that from first to

last (with very few exceptions) it flourished under the patronage of the

court. There was no organised book trade, no wealthy publishers, so that

poets were usually dependent for their livelihood on the capricious

bounty of the Caliphs and his favourites whom they belauded. Huge sums

were paid for a successful panegyric, and the bards vied with each other

in flattery of the most extravagant description. Even in writers of real

genius this prostitution of their art gave rise to a great deal of the

false glitter and empty bombast which are often erroneously attributed

to Oriental poetry as a whole.[524] These qualities, however, are

absolutely foreign to Arabian poetry of the best period. The old

Bedouins who praised a man only for that which was in him, and drew

their images directly from nature, stand at the opposite pole to

Tha‘álibí's contemporaries. Under the Umayyads, as we have seen, little

change took place. It is not until after the enthronement of the

‘Abbásids, when Persians filled the chief offices at court, and when a

goodly number of poets and eminent men of learning had Persian blood in

their veins, that an unmistakably new note makes itself heard. One might

be tempted to surmise that the high-flown, bombastic, and ornate style

of which Mutanabbí is the most illustrious exponent, and which is so

marked a feature in later Muḥammadan poetry, was first introduced by

the Persians and Perso-Arabs who gathered round the Caliph in Baghdád

and celebrated the triumph of their own race in the person of a noble

Barmecide; but this would scarcely be true. The style in question is not

specially Persian; the earliest Arabic-writing poets of Íránian descent,

like Bashshár b. Burd and Abú Nuwás, are (so far as I can see) without a

trace of it. What the Persians brought into Arabian poetry was not a

grandiose style, but a lively and graceful fancy, elegance of diction,

depth and tenderness of feeling, and a rich store of ideas.

The process of transformation was aided by other causes besides the

influx of Persian and Hellenistic culture: for example, by the growing

importance of Islam in public life and the diffusion of a strong

religious spirit among the community at large--a spirit which attained

its most perfect expression in the reflective and didactic poetry of Abu

’l-‘Atáhiya. Every change of many-coloured life is depicted in the

brilliant pages of these modern poets, where the reader may find,

according to his mood, the maddest gaiety and the shamefullest

frivolity; strains of lofty meditation mingled with a world-weary

pessimism; delicate sentiment, unforced pathos, and glowing rhetoric;

but seldom the manly self-reliance, the wild, invigorating freedom and

inimitable freshness of Bedouin song.

[Sidenote: Five typical poets of the ‘Abbásid period.]

It is of course impossible to do justice even to the principal ‘Abbásid

poets within the limits of this chapter, but the following five may be

taken as fairly representative: Muṭí‘ b. Iyás, Abú Nuwás, Abu

’l-‘Atáhiya, Mutanabbí, and Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí. The first three were

in close touch with the court of Baghdád, while Mutanabbí and Abu

’l-‘Alá flourished under the Ḥamdánid dynasty which ruled in Aleppo.

[Sidenote: Muṭí‘ b. Iyás.]

Muṭí‘ b. Iyás only deserves notice here as the earliest poet of the

New School. His father was a native of Palestine, but he himself was

born and educated at Kúfa. He began his career under the Umayyads, and

was devoted to the Caliph Walíd b. Yazíd, who found in him a fellow

after his own heart, "accomplished, dissolute, an agreeable companion

and excellent wit, reckless in his effrontery and suspected in his

religion."[525] When the ‘Abbásids came into power Muṭí‘ attached

himself to the Caliph Manṣúr. Many stories are told of the debauched

life which he led in the company of _zindíqs_, or freethinkers, a class

of men whose opinions we shall sketch in another chapter. His songs of

love and wine are distinguished by their lightness and elegance. The

best known is that in which he laments his separation from the daughter

of a _Dihqán_ (Persian landed proprietor), and invokes the two

palm-trees of Ḥulwán, a town situated on the borders of the Jibál

province between Hamadhán and Baghdád. From this poem arose the proverb,

"Faster friends than the two palm-trees of Ḥulwán."[526]

THE YEOMAN'S DAUGHTER.

"O ye two palms, palms of Ḥulwán,

Help me weep Time's bitter dole!

Know that Time for ever parteth

Life from every living soul.

Had ye tasted parting's anguish,

Ye would weep as I, forlorn.

Help me! Soon must ye asunder

By the same hard fate be torn.

Many are the friends and loved ones

Whom I lost in days of yore.

Fare thee well, O yeoman's daughter!--

Never grief like this I bore.

Her, alas, mine eyes behold not,

And on me she looks no more!"

[Sidenote: Abú Nuwás († _circa_ 810 A.D.).]

By Europeans who know him only through the _Thousand and One Nights_ Abú

Nuwás is remembered as the boon-companion and court jester of "the good

Haroun Alraschid," and as the hero of countless droll adventures and

facetious anecdotes--an Oriental Howleglass or Joe Miller. It is often

forgotten that he was a great poet who, in the opinion of those most

competent to judge, takes rank above all his contemporaries and

successors, including even Mutanabbí, and is not surpassed in poetical

genius by any ancient bard.

Ḥasan b. Háni’ gained the familiar title of Abú Nuwás (Father of the

lock of hair) from two locks which hung down on his shoulders. He was

born of humble parents, about the middle of the eighth century, in

Aḥwáz, the capital of Khúzistán. That he was not a pure Arab the name

of his mother, Jallabán, clearly indicates, while the following verse

affords sufficient proof that he was not ashamed of his Persian blood:--

"Who are Tamím and Qays and all their kin?

The Arabs in God's sight are nobody."[527]

He received his education at Baṣra, of which city he calls himself a

native,[528] and at Kúfa, where he studied poetry and philology under

the learned Khalaf al-Aḥmar. After passing a 'Wanderjahr' among the

Arabs of the desert, as was the custom of scholars at that time, he made

his way to Baghdád and soon eclipsed every competitor at the court of

Hárún the Orthodox. A man of the most abandoned character, which he took

no pains to conceal, Abú Nuwás, by his flagrant immorality, drunkenness,

and blasphemy, excited the Caliph's anger to such a pitch that he often

threatened the culprit with death, and actually imprisoned him on

several occasions; but these fits of severity were brief. The poet

survived both Hárún and his son, Amín, who succeeded him in the

Caliphate. Age brought repentance--"the Devil was sick, the Devil a monk

would be." He addressed the following lines from prison to Faḍl b.

al-Rabí‘, whom Hárún appointed Grand Vizier after the fall of the

Barmecides:--

"Faḍl, who hast taught and trained me up to goodness

(And goodness is but habit), thee I praise.

Now hath vice fled and virtue me revisits,

And I have turned to chaste and pious ways.

To see me, thou would'st think the saintly Baṣrite,

Ḥasan, or else Qatáda, met thy gaze,[529]

So do I deck humility with leanness,

While yellow, locust-like, my cheek o'erlays.

Beads on my arm; and on my breast the Scripture,

Where hung a chain of gold in other days."[530]

The Díwán of Abú Nuwás contains poems in many different styles--_e.g._,

panegyric (_madíḥ), satire (_hijá_), songs of the chase

(ṭardiyyát_), elegies (_maráthí_), and religious poems (_zuhdiyyát_);

but love and wine were the two motives by which his genius was most

brilliantly inspired. His wine-songs (_khamriyyát_) are generally

acknowledged to be incomparable. Here is one of the shortest:--

"Thou scolder of the grape and me,

I ne'er shall win thy smile!

Because against thee I rebel,

'Tis churlish to revile.

Ah, breathe no more the name of wine

Until thou cease to blame,

For fear that thy foul tongue should smirch

Its fair and lovely name!

Come, pour it out, ye gentle boys,

A vintage ten years old,

That seems as though 'twere in the cup

A lake of liquid gold.

And when the water mingles there,

To fancy's eye are set

Pearls over shining pearls close strung

As in a carcanet."[531]

Another poem begins--

"Ho! a cup, and fill it up, and tell me it is wine,

For I will never drink in shade if I can drink in shine!

Curst and poor is every hour that sober I must go,

But rich am I whene'er well drunk I stagger to and fro.

Speak, for shame, the loved one's name, let vain disguise alone:

No good there is in pleasures o'er which a veil is thrown."[532]

Abú Nuwás practised what he preached, and hypocrisy at any rate cannot

be laid to his charge. The moral and religious sentiments which appear

in some of his poems are not mere cant, but should rather be regarded as

the utterance of sincere though transient emotion. Usually he felt and

avowed that pleasure was the supreme business of his life, and that

religious scruples could not be permitted to stand in the way. He even

urges others not to shrink from any excess, inasmuch as the Divine mercy

is greater than all the sins of which a man is capable:--

"Accumulate as many sins thou canst:

The Lord is ready to relax His ire.

When the day comes, forgiveness thou wilt find

Before a mighty King and gracious Sire,

And gnaw thy fingers, all that joy regretting

Which thou didst leave thro' terror of Hell-fire!"[533]

We must now bid farewell to Abú Nuwás and the licentious poets

(_al-shu‘ará al-mujján_) who reflect so admirably the ideas and manners

prevailing in court circles and in the upper classes of society which

were chiefly influenced by the court. The scenes of luxurious

dissipation and refined debauchery which they describe show us, indeed,

that Persian culture was not an unalloyed blessing to the Arabs any more

than were the arts of Greece to the Romans; but this is only the darker

side of the picture. The works of a contemporary poet furnish evidence

of the indignation which the libertinism fashionable in high places

called forth among the mass of Moslems who had not lost faith in

morality and religion.

[Sidenote: Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya (748-828 A.D.).]

Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya, unlike his great rival, came of Arab stock. He was bred

in Kúfa, and gained his livelihood as a young man by selling

earthenware. His poetical talent, however, promised so well that he set

out to present himself before the Caliph Mahdí, who richly rewarded him;

and Hárún al-Rashíd afterwards bestowed on him a yearly pension of

50,000 dirhems (about £2,000), in addition to numerous

extraordinary gifts. At Baghdád he fell in love with ‘Utba, a slave-girl

belonging to Mahdí, but she did not return his passion or take any

notice of the poems in which he celebrated her charms and bewailed the

sufferings that she made him endure. Despair of winning her affection

caused him, it is said, to assume the woollen garb of Muḥammadan

ascetics,[534] and henceforth, instead of writing vain and amatorious

verses, he devoted his powers exclusively to those joyless meditations

on mortality which have struck a deep chord in the hearts of his

countrymen. Like Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí and others who neglected the

positive precepts of Islam in favour of a moral philosophy based on

experience and reflection, Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya was accused of being a

freethinker (_zindíq_).[535] It was alleged that in his poems he often

spoke of death but never of the Resurrection and the Judgment--a calumny

which is refuted by many passages in his Díwán. According to the

literary historian al-Ṣúlí († 946 A.D.), Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya believed in

One God who formed the universe out of two opposite elements which He

created from nothing; and held, further, that everything would be

reduced to these same elements before the final destruction of all

phenomena. Knowledge, he thought, was acquired naturally (_i.e._,

without Divine Revelation) by means of reflection, deduction, and

research.[536] He believed in the threatened retribution (_al-wa‘íd_)

and in the command to abstain from commerce with the world (_taḥrímu

’l-makásib_).[537] He professed the opinions of the Butrites,[538] a

subdivision of the Zaydites, as that sect of the Shí‘a was named which

followed Zayd b. Alí b. Ḥusayn b. ‘Alí b. Abí Ṭálib. He spoke evil

of none, and did not approve of revolt against the Government. He held

the doctrine of predestination (_jabr_).[539]

Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya may have secretly cherished the Manichæan views ascribed

to him in this passage, but his poems contain little or nothing that

could offend the most orthodox Moslem. The following verse, in which

Goldziher finds an allusion to Buddha,[540] is capable of a different

interpretation. It rather seems to me to exalt the man of ascetic life,

without particular reference to any individual, above all others:--

"If thou would'st see the noblest of mankind,

Behold a monarch in a beggar's garb."[541]

But while the poet avoids positive heresy, it is none the less true that

much of his Díwán is not strictly religious in the Muḥammadan sense and

may fairly be called 'philosophical.' This was enough to convict him of

infidelity and atheism in the eyes of devout theologians who looked

askance on moral teaching, however pure, that was not cast in the

dogmatic mould. The pretended cause of his imprisonment by Hárún

al-Rashíd--namely, that he refused to make any more love-songs--is

probably, as Goldziher has suggested, a popular version of the fact that

he persisted in writing religious poems which were supposed to have a

dangerous bias in the direction of free-thought.

His poetry breathes a spirit of profound melancholy and hopeless

pessimism. Death and what comes after death, the frailty and misery of

man, the vanity of worldly pleasures and the duty of renouncing

them--these are the subjects on which he dwells with monotonous

reiteration, exhorting his readers to live the ascetic life and fear God

and lay up a store of good works against the Day of Reckoning. The

simplicity, ease, and naturalness of his style are justly admired.

Religious poetry, as he himself confesses, was not read at court or by

scholars who demanded rare and obscure expressions, but only by pious

folk, traditionists and divines, and especially by the vulgar, "who like

best what they can understand."[542] Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya wrote for 'the man

in the street.' Discarding conventional themes tricked out with

threadbare artifices, he appealed to common feelings and matters of

universal experience. He showed for the first and perhaps for the last

time in the history of classical Arabic literature that it was possible

to use perfectly plain and ordinary language without ceasing to be a

poet.

Although, as has been said, the bulk of Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya's poetry is

philosophical in character, there remains much specifically Islamic

doctrine, in particular as regards the Resurrection and the Future Life.

This combination may be illustrated by the following ode, which is

considered one of the best that have been written on the subject of

religion, or, more accurately, of asceticism (_zuhd_):--

"Get sons for death, build houses for decay!

All, all, ye wend annihilation's way.

For whom build we, who must ourselves return

Into our native element of clay?

O Death, nor violence nor flattery thou

Dost use, but when thou com'st, escape none may.

Methinks, thou art ready to surprise mine age,

As age surprised and made my youth his prey.

What ails me, World, that every place perforce

I lodge thee in, it galleth me to stay?

And, O Time, how do I behold thee run

To spoil me? Thine own gift thou tak'st away!

O Time! inconstant, mutable art thou,

And o'er the realm of ruin is thy sway.

What ails me that no glad result it brings

Whene'er, O World, to milk thee I essay?

And when I court thee, why dost thou raise up

On all sides only trouble and dismay?

Men seek thee every wise, but thou art like

A dream; the shadow of a cloud; the day

Which hath but now departed, nevermore

To dawn again; a glittering vapour gay.

This people thou hast paid in full: their feet

Are on the stirrup--let them not delay!

But those that do good works and labour well

Hereafter shall receive the promised pay.

As if no punishment I had to fear,

A load of sin upon my neck I lay;

And while the world I love, from Truth, alas,

Still my besotted senses go astray.

I shall be asked of all my business here:

What can I plead then? What can I gainsay?

What argument allege, when I am called

To render an account on Reckoning-Day?

Dooms twain in that dread hour shall be revealed,

When I the scroll of these mine acts survey:

Either to dwell in everlasting bliss,

Or suffer torments of the damned for aye!"[543]

I will now add a few verses culled from the Díwán which bring the poet's

pessimistic view of life into clearer outline, and also some examples of

those moral precepts and sententious criticisms which crowd his pages

and have contributed in no small degree to his popularity.

"The world is like a viper soft to touch that venom spits."[544]

"Men sit like revellers o'er their cups and drink,

From the world's hand, the circling wine of death."[545]

"Call no man living blest for aught you see

But that for which you blessed call the dead."[546]

FALSE FRIENDS.

"'Tis not the Age that moves my scorn,

But those who in the Age are born.

I cannot count the friends that broke

Their faith, tho' honied words they spoke;

In whom no aid I found, and made

The Devil welcome to their aid.

May I--so best we shall agree--

Ne'er look on them nor they on me!"[547]

"If men should see a prophet begging, they would turn and scout him.

Thy friend is ever thine as long as thou canst do without him;

But he will spew thee forth, if in thy need thou come about him."[548]

THE WICKED WORLD.

"'Tis only on the culprit sin recoils,

The ignorant fool against himself is armed.

Humanity are sunk in wickedness;

The best is he that leaveth us unharmed."[549]

"'Twas my despair of Man that gave me hope

God's grace would find me soon, I know not how."[550]

LIFE AND DEATH.

"Man's life is his fair name, and not his length of years;

Man's death is his ill-fame, and not the day that nears.

Then life to thy fair name by deeds of goodness give:

So in this world two lives, O mortal, thou shalt live."[551]

MAXIMS AND RULES OF LIFE.

"Mere falsehood by its face is recognised,

But Truth by parables and admonitions."[552]

"I keep the bond of love inviolate

Towards all humankind, for I betray

Myself, if I am false to any man."[553]

"Far from the safe path, hop'st thou to be saved?

Ships make no speedy voyage on dry land."[554]

"Strip off the world from thee and naked live,

For naked thou didst fall into the world."[555]

"Man guards his own and grasps his neighbours' pelf,

And he is angered when they him prevent;

But he that makes the earth his couch will sleep

No worse, if lacking silk he have content."[556]

"Men vaunt their noble blood, but I behold

No lineage that can vie with righteous deeds."[557]

"If knowledge lies in long experience,

Less than what I have borne suffices me."[558]

"Faith is the medicine of every grief,

Doubt only raises up a host of cares."[559]

"Blame me or no, 'tis my predestined state:

If I have erred, infallible is Fate."[560]

Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya found little favour with his contemporaries, who seem to

have regarded him as a miserly hypocrite. He died, an aged man, in the

Caliphate of Ma’mún.[561] Von Kremer thinks that he had a truer genius

for poetry than Abú Nuwás, an opinion in which I am unable to concur.

Both, however, as he points out, are distinctive types of their time. If

Abú Nuwás presents an appalling picture of a corrupt and frivolous

society devoted to pleasure, we learn from Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya something of

the religious feelings and beliefs which pervaded the middle and lower

classes, and which led them to take a more earnest and elevated view of

life.

With the rapid decline and disintegration of the ‘Abbásid Empire which

set in towards the middle of the ninth century, numerous petty dynasties

arose, and the hitherto unrivalled splendour of Baghdád was challenged

by more than one provincial court. These independent or semi-independent

princes were sometimes zealous patrons of learning--it is well known,

for example, that a national Persian literature first came into being

under the auspices of the Sámánids in Khurásán and the Buwayhids in

‘Iráq--but as a rule the anxious task of maintaining, or the ambition of

extending, their power left them small leisure to cultivate letters,

even if they wished to do so. None combined the arts of war and peace

more brilliantly than the Ḥamdánid Sayfu ’l-Dawla, who in 944 A.D. made

himself master of Aleppo, and founded an independent kingdom in Northern

Syria.

[Sidenote: Tha‘álibí's eulogy of Sayfu ’l-Dawla.]

"The Ḥamdánids," says Tha‘álibí, "were kings and princes, comely of

countenance and eloquent of tongue, endowed with open-handedness and

gravity of mind. Sayfu ’l-Dawla is famed as the chief amongst them

all and the centre-pearl of their necklace. He was--may God be

pleased with him and grant his desires and make Paradise his

abode!--the brightest star of his age and the pillar of Islam: by

him the frontiers were guarded and the State well governed. His

attacks on the rebellious Arabs checked their fury and blunted their

teeth and tamed their stubbornness and secured his subjects against

their barbarity. His campaigns exacted vengeance from the Emperor of

the Greeks, decisively broke their hostile onset, and had an

excellent effect on Islam. His court was the goal of ambassadors,

the dayspring of liberality, the horizon-point of hope, the end of

journeys, a place where savants assembled and poets competed for the

palm. It is said that after the Caliphs no prince gathered around

him so many masters of poetry and men illustrious in literature as

he did; and to a monarch's hall, as to a market, people bring only

what is in demand. He was an accomplished scholar, a poet himself

and a lover of fine poetry; keenly susceptible to words of

praise."[562]

Sayfu ’l-Dawla's cousin, Abú Firás al-Ḥamdání, was a gallant soldier

and a poet of some mark, who if space permitted would receive fuller

notice here.[563] He, however, though superior to the common herd of

court poets, is overshadowed by one who with all his faults--and they

are not inconsiderable--made an extraordinary impression upon his

contemporaries, and by the commanding influence of his reputation

decided what should henceforth be the standard of poetical taste in the

Muḥammadan world.

[Sidenote: Mutanabbí (915-965 A.D.).]

Abu ’l-Ṭayyib Ahmad b. Ḥusayn, known to fame as al-Mutanabbí, was

born and bred at Kúfa, where his father is said to have been a

water-carrier. Following the admirable custom by which young men of

promise were sent abroad to complete their education, he studied at

Damascus and visited other towns in Syria, but also passed much of his

time among the Bedouins, to whom he owed the singular knowledge and

mastery of Arabic displayed in his poems. Here he came forward as a

prophet (from which circumstance he was afterwards entitled

al-Mutanabbí, _i.e._, 'the pretender to prophecy'), and induced a great

multitude to believe in him; but ere long he was captured by Lu’lu’, the

governor of Ḥims (Emessa), and thrown into prison. After his release

he wandered to and fro chanting the praises of all and sundry, until

fortune guided him to the court of Sayfu ’l-Dawla at Aleppo. For nine

years (948-957 A.D.) he stood high in the favour of that cultured

prince, whose virtues he celebrated in a series of splendid eulogies,

and with whom he lived as an intimate friend and comrade in arms. The

liberality of Sayfu ’l-Dawla and the ingenious impudence of the poet are

well brought out by the following anecdote:--

Mutanabbí on one occasion handed to his patron the copy of an ode

which he had recently composed in his honour, and retired, leaving

Sayfu ’l-Dawla to peruse it at leisure. The prince began to read,

and came to these lines--

_Aqil anil aqṭi‘ iḥmil ‘alli salli a‘id

zid hashshi bashshi tafaḍḍal adni surra ṣili._[564]

"_Pardon, bestow, endow, mount, raise, console, restore,

Add, laugh, rejoice, bring nigh, show favour, gladden, give!_"

Far from being displeased by the poet's arrogance, Sayfu ’l-Dawla

was so charmed with his artful collocation of fourteen imperatives

in a single verse that he granted every request. Under _pardon_ he

wrote 'we pardon thee'; under _bestow_, 'let him receive such and

such a sum of money'; under _endow_, 'we endow thee with an estate,'

which he named (it was beside the gate of Aleppo); under _mount_,

'let such and such a horse be led to him'; under _raise_, 'we do

so'; under _console_, 'we do so, be at ease'; under _restore_, 'we

restore thee to thy former place in our esteem'; under _add_, 'let

him have such and such in addition'; under _bring nigh_, 'we admit

thee to our intimacy'; under _show favour_, 'we have done so'; under

_gladden_, 'we have made thee glad'[565]; under _give_, 'this we

have already done.' Mutanabbí's rivals envied his good fortune, and

one of them said to Sayfu ’l-Dawla--"Sire, you have done all that

he asked, but when he uttered the words _laugh_, _rejoice_, why did

not you answer, 'Ha, ha, ha'?" Sayfu ’l-Dawla laughed, and said,

"You too, shall have your wish," and ordered him a donation.

Mutanabbí was sincerely attached to his generous master, and this

feeling inspired a purer and loftier strain than we find in the fulsome

panegyrics which he afterwards addressed to the negro Káfúr. He seems to

have been occasionally in disgrace, but Sayfu ’l-Dawla could deny

nothing to a poet who paid him such magnificent compliments. Nor was he

deterred by any false modesty from praising himself: he was fully

conscious of his power and, like Arabian bards in general, he bragged

about it. Although the verbal legerdemain which is so conspicuous in his

poetry cannot be reproduced in another language, the lines translated

below may be taken as a favourable and sufficiently characteristic

specimen of his style.

"How glows mine heart for him whose heart to me is cold,

Who liketh ill my case and me in fault doth hold!

Why should I hide a love that hath worn thin my frame?

To Sayfu ’l-Dawla all the world avows the same.

Tho' love of his high star unites us, would that we

According to our love might so divide the fee!

Him have I visited when sword in sheath was laid,

And I have seen him when in blood swam every blade:

Him, both in peace and war the best of all mankind,

Whose crown of excellence was still his noble mind.

Do foes by flight escape thine onset, thou dost gain

A chequered victory, half of pleasure, half of pain.

So puissant is the fear thou strik'st them with, it stands

Instead of thee, and works more than thy warriors' hands.

Unfought the field is thine: thou need'st not further strain

To chase them from their holes in mountain or in plain.

What! 'fore thy fierce attack whene'er an army reels,

Must thy ambitious soul press hot upon their heels?

Thy task it is to rout them on the battle-ground;

No shame to thee if they in flight have safety found.

Or thinkest thou perchance that victory is sweet

Only when scimitars and necks each other greet?

O justest of the just save in thy deeds to me!

_Thou_ art accused and thou, O Sire, must judge the plea.

Look, I implore thee, well! Let not thine eye cajoled

See fat in empty froth, in all that glisters gold![566]

What use and profit reaps a mortal of his sight,

If darkness unto him be indistinct from light?

My deep poetic art the blind have eyes to see,

My verses ring in ears as deaf as deaf can be.

They wander far abroad while I am unaware,

But men collect them watchfully with toil and care.

Oft hath my laughing mien prolonged the insulter's sport,

Until with claw and mouth I cut his rudeness short.

Ah, when the lion bares his teeth, suspect his guile,

Nor fancy that the lion shows to you a smile.

I have slain the man that sought my heart's blood many a time,

Riding a noble mare whose back none else may climb,

Whose hind and fore-legs seem in galloping as one;

Nor hand nor foot requireth she to urge her on.

And O the days when I have swung my fine-edged glaive

Amidst a sea of death where wave was dashed on wave!

The desert knows me well, the night, the mounted men,

The battle and the sword, the paper and the pen!"[567]

Finally an estrangement arose between Mutanabbí and Sayfu ’l-Dawla, in

consequence of which he fled to Egypt and attached himself to the

Ikhshídite Káfúr. Disappointed in his new patron, a negro who had

formerly been a slave, the poet set off for Baghdád, and afterwards

visited the court of the Buwayhid ‘Aḍudu ’l-Dawla at Shíráz. While

travelling through Babylonia he was attacked and slain by brigands in

965 A.D.

The popularity of Mutanabbí is shown by the numerous commentaries[568]

and critical treatises on his _Díwán_. By his countrymen he is generally

regarded as one of the greatest of Arabian poets, while not a few would

maintain that he ranks absolutely first. Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí, himself

an illustrious poet and man of letters, confessed that he had sometimes

wished to alter a word here and there in Mutanabbí's verses, but had

never been able to think of any improvement. "As to his poetry," says

Ibn Khallikán, "it is perfection." European scholars, with the exception

of Von Hammer,[569] have been far from sharing this enthusiasm, as may

be seen by referring to what has been said on the subject by

Reiske,[570] De Sacy,[571] Bohlen,[572] Brockelmann,[573] and others. No

doubt, according to our canons of taste, Mutanabbí stands immeasurably

below the famous Pre-islamic bards, and in a later age must yield the

palm to Abú Nuwás and Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya. Lovers of poetry, as the term is

understood in Europe, cannot derive much æsthetic pleasure from his

writings, but, on the contrary, will be disgusted by the beauties hardly

less than by the faults which Arabian critics attribute to him.

Admitting, however, that only a born Oriental is able to appreciate

Mutanabbí at his full worth, let us try to realise the Oriental point of

view and put aside, as far as possible, our preconceptions of what

constitutes good poetry and good taste. Fortunately we possess abundant

materials for such an attempt in the invaluable work of Tha‘álibí, which

has been already mentioned.[574] Tha‘álibí (961-1038 A.D.) was nearly

contemporary with Mutanabbí. He began to write his _Yatíma_ about thirty

years after the poet's death, and while he bears witness to the

unrivalled popularity of the _Díwán_ amongst all classes of society, he

observes that it was sharply criticised as well as rapturously admired.

Tha‘álibí himself claims to hold the balance even. "Now," he says, "I

will mention the faults and blemishes which critics have found in the

poetry of Mutanabbí; for is there any one whose qualities give entire

satisfaction?--

_Kafa ’l-mar’a faḍlan an tu‘adda ma‘áyibuh._

'Tis the height of merit in a man that his faults can be numbered.

Then I will proceed to speak of his beauties and to set forth in due

order the original and incomparable characteristics of his style.

The radiant stars with beauty strike our eyes

Because midst gloom opaque we see them rise."

It was deemed of capital importance that the opening couplet

(_maṭla‘_) of a poem should be perfect in form and meaning, and that

it should not contain anything likely to offend. Tha‘álibí brings

forward many instances in which Mutanabbí has violated this rule by

using words of bad omen, such as 'sickness' or 'death,' or technical

terms of music and arithmetic which only perplex and irritate the hearer

instead of winning his sympathy at the outset. He complains also that

Mutanabbí's finest thoughts and images are too often followed by low and

trivial ones: "he strings pearls and bricks together" (_jama‘a bayna

’l-durrati wa-’l-ájurrati_). "While he moulds the most splendid

ornament, and threads the loveliest necklace, and weaves the most

exquisite stuff of mingled hues, and paces superbly in a garden of

roses, suddenly he will throw in a verse or two verses disfigured by

far-fetched metaphors, or by obscure language and confused thought, or

by extravagant affectation and excessive profundity, or by unbounded and

absurd exaggeration, or by vulgar and commonplace diction, or by

pedantry and grotesqueness resulting from the use of unfamiliar words."

We need not follow Tha‘álibí in his illustration of these and other

weaknesses with which he justly reproaches Mutanabbí, since we shall be

able to form a better idea of the prevailing taste from those points

which he singles out for special praise.

In the first place he calls attention to the poet's skill in handling

the customary erotic prelude (_nasíb_), and particularly to his

brilliant descriptions of Bedouin women, which were celebrated all over

the East. As an example of this kind he quotes the following piece,

which "is chanted in the salons on account of the extreme beauty of its

diction, the choiceness of its sentiment, and the perfection of its

art":--

"Shame hitherto was wont my tears to stay,

But now by shame they will no more be stayed,

So that each bone seems through its skin to sob,

And every vein to swell the sad cascade.

She uncovered: pallor veiled her at farewell:

No veil 'twas, yet her cheeks it cast in shade.

So seemed they, while tears trickled over them,

Gold with a double row of pearls inlaid.

She loosed three sable tresses of her hair,

And thus of night four nights at once she made;

But when she lifted to the moon in heaven

Her face, two moons together I surveyed."[575]

The critic then enumerates various beautiful and original features of

Mutanabbí's style, _e.g._--

1. His consecutive arrangement of similes in brief symmetrical clauses,

thus:--

"She shone forth like a moon, and swayed like a moringa-bough,

And shed fragrance like ambergris, and gazed like a gazelle."

2. The novelty of his comparisons and images, as when he indicates the

rapidity with which he returned to his patron and the shortness of his

absence in these lines:--

"I was merely an arrow in the air,

Which falls back, finding no refuge there."

3. The _laus duplex_ or 'two-sided panegyric' (_al-madḥ, al-muwajjah_), which may be compared to a garment

having two surfaces of different colours but of equal beauty, as in the

following verse addressed to Sayfu ’l-Dawla:--

"Were all the lives thou hast ta'en possessed by thee,

Immortal thou and blest the world would be!"

Here Sayfu ’l-Dawla is doubly eulogised by the mention of his triumphs

over his enemies as well as of the joy which all his friends felt in the

continuance of his life and fortune.

4. His manner of extolling his royal patron as though he were speaking

to a friend and comrade, whereby he raises himself from the position of

an ordinary encomiast to the same level with kings.

5. His division of ideas into parallel sentences:--

"We were in gladness, the Greeks in fear,

The land in bustle, the sea in confusion."

From this summary of Tha‘álibí's criticism the reader will easily

perceive that the chief merits of poetry were then considered to lie in

elegant expression, subtle combination of words, fanciful imagery, witty

conceits, and a striking use of rhetorical figures. Such, indeed, are

the views which prevail to this day throughout the whole Muḥammadan

world, and it is unreasonable to denounce them as false simply because

they do not square with ours. Who shall decide when nations disagree? If

Englishmen rightly claim to be the best judges of Shakespeare, and

Italians of Dante, the almost unanimous verdict of Mutanabbí's

countrymen is surely not less authoritative--a verdict which places him

at the head of all the poets born or made in Islam. And although the

peculiar excellences indicated by Tha‘álibí do not appeal to us, there

are few poets that leave so distinct an impression of greatness. One

might call Mutanabbí the Victor Hugo of the East, for he has the grand

style whether he soars to sublimity or sinks to fustian. In the

masculine vigour of his verse, in the sweep and splendour of his

rhetoric, in the luxuriance and reckless audacity of his imagination we

recognise qualities which inspired the oft-quoted lines of the

elegist:--

"Him did his mighty soul supply

With regal pomp and majesty.

A Prophet by his _diction_ known;

But in the _ideas_, all must own,

His miracles were clearly shown."[576]

One feature of Mutanabbí's poetry that is praised by Tha‘álibí should

not be left unnoticed, namely, his fondness for sententious moralising

on topics connected with human life; wherefore Reiske has compared him

to Euripides. He is allowed to be a master of that proverbial philosophy

in which Orientals delight and which is characteristic of the modern

school beginning with Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya, though some of the ancients had

already cultivated it with success (cf. the verses of Zuhayr, p. 118

_supra_). The following examples are among those cited by Bohlen (_op.

cit._, p. 86 sqq.):--

"When an old man cries 'Ugh!' he is not tired

Of life, but only tired of feebleness."[577]

"He that hath been familiar with the world

A long while, in his eye 'tis turned about

Until he sees how false what looked so fair."[578]

"The sage's mind still makes him miserable

In his most happy fortune, but poor fools

Find happiness even in their misery."[579]

[Sidenote: Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí (973-1057 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: His visit to Baghdád.]

The sceptical and pessimistic tendencies of an age of social decay and

political anarchy are unmistakably revealed in the writings of the poet,

philosopher, and man of letters, Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí, who was born in

973 A.D. at Ma‘arratu ’l-Nu‘mán, a Syrian town situated about twenty

miles south of Aleppo on the caravan road to Damascus. While yet a child

he had an attack of small-pox, resulting in partial and eventually in

complete blindness, but this calamity, fatal as it might seem to

literary ambition, was repaired if not entirely made good by his

stupendous powers of memory. After being educated at home under the eye

of his father, a man of some culture and a meritorious poet, he

proceeded to Aleppo, which was still a flourishing centre of the

humanities, though it could no longer boast such a brilliant array of

poets and scholars as were attracted thither in the palmy days of Sayfu

’l-Dawla. Probably Abu ’l-‘Alá did not enter upon the career of a

professional encomiast, to which he seems at first to have inclined: he

declares in the preface to his _Saqṭu ’l-Zand_ that he never eulogised

any one with the hope of gaining a reward, but only for the sake of

practising his skill. On the termination of his 'Wanderjahre' he

returned in 993 A.D. to Ma‘arra, where he spent the next fifteen years

of his life, with no income beyond a small pension of thirty dínárs

(which he shared with a servant), lecturing on Arabic poetry,

antiquities, and philology, the subjects to which his youthful studies

had been chiefly devoted. During this period his reputation was steadily

increasing, and at last, to adapt what Boswell wrote of Dr. Johnson on a

similar occasion, "he thought of trying his fortune in Baghdád, the

great field of genius and exertion, where talents of every kind had the

fullest scope and the highest encouragement." Professor Margoliouth in

the Introduction to his edition of Abu ’l-‘Alá's correspondence supplies

many interesting particulars of the literary society at Baghdád in which

the poet moved. "As in ancient Rome, so in the great Muḥammadan cities

public recitation was the mode whereby men of letters made their talents

known to their contemporaries. From very early times it had been

customary to employ the mosques for this purpose; and in Abu ’l-‘Alá's

time poems were recited in the mosque of al-Manṣúr in Baghdád. Better

accommodation was, however, provided by the Mæcenates who took a pride

in collecting savants and _littérateurs_ in their houses."[580] Such a

Mæcenas was the Sharíf al-Raḍí, himself a celebrated poet, who founded

the Academy called by his name in imitation, probably, of that founded

some years before by Abú Nasr Sábúr b. Ardashír, Vizier to the Buwayhid

prince, Bahá’u ’l-Dawla. Here Abu ’l-‘Alá met a number of distinguished

writers and scholars who welcomed him as one of themselves. The capital

of Islam, thronged with travellers and merchants from all parts of the

East, harbouring followers of every creed and sect--Christians and Jews,

Buddhists and Zoroastrians, Ṣábians and Ṣúfís, Materialists and

Rationalists--must have seemed to the provincial almost like a new

world. It is certain that Abu ’l-‘Alá, a curious observer who set no

bounds to his thirst for knowledge, would make the best use of such an

opportunity. The religious and philosophical ideas with which he was now

first thrown into contact gradually took root and ripened. His stay in

Baghdád, though it lasted only a year and a half (1009-1010 A.D.),

decided the whole bent of his mind for the future.

Whether his return to Ma‘arra was hastened, as he says, by want of means

and the illness of his mother, whom he tenderly loved, or by an

indignity which he suffered at the hands of an influential patron,[581]

immediately on his arrival he shut himself in his house, adopted a

vegetarian diet and other ascetic practices, and passed the rest of his

long life in comparative seclusion:--

"Methinks, I am thrice imprisoned--ask not me

Of news that need no telling--

By loss of sight, confinement to my house,

And this vile body for my spirit's dwelling."[582]

We can only conjecture the motives which brought about this sudden

change of habits and disposition. No doubt his mother's death affected

him deeply, and he may have been disappointed by his failure to obtain a

permanent footing in the capital. It is not surprising that the blind

and lonely man, looking back on his faded youth, should have felt weary

of the world and its ways, and found in melancholy contemplation of

earthly vanities ever fresh matter for the application and development

of these philosophical ideas which, as we have seen, were probably

suggested to him by his recent experiences. While in the collection of

early poems, entitled _Saqṭu ’l-Zand_ or 'The Spark of the Fire-stick'

and mainly composed before his visit to Baghdád, he still treads the

customary path of his predecessors,[583] his poems written after that

time and generally known as the _Luzúmiyyát_[584] arrest attention by

their boldness and originality as well as by the sombre and earnest tone

which pervades them. This, indeed, is not the view of most Oriental

critics, who dislike the poet's irreverence and fail to appreciate the

fact that he stood considerably in advance of his age; but in Europe he

has received full justice and perhaps higher praise than he deserves.

Reiske describes him as 'Arabice callentissimum, vasti, subtilis,

sublimis et audacis ingenii';[585] Von Hammer, who ranks him as a poet

with Abú Tammám, Buḥturí, and Mutanabbí, also mentions him honourably as

a philosopher;[586] and finally Von Kremer, who made an exhaustive study

of the _Luzúmiyyát_ and examined their contents in a masterly

essay,[587] discovered in Abu ’l-‘Alá, one of the greatest moralists of

all time whose profound genius anticipated much that is commonly

attributed to the so-called modern spirit of enlightenment. Here Von

Kremer's enthusiasm may have carried him too far; for the poet, as

Professor Margoliouth says, was unconscious of the value of his

suggestions, unable to follow them out, and unable to adhere to them

consistently. Although he builded better than he knew, the constructive

side of his philosophy was overshadowed by the negative and destructive

side, so that his pure and lofty morality leaves but a faint impression

which soon dies away in louder, continually recurring voices of doubt

and despair.

Abu ’l-‘Alá is a firm monotheist, but his belief in God amounted, as it

would seem, to little beyond a conviction that all things are governed

by inexorable Fate, whose mysteries none may fathom and from whose

omnipotence there is no escape. He denies the Resurrection of the dead,

_e.g._:--

"We laugh, but inept is our laughter;

We should weep and weep sore,

Who are shattered like glass, and thereafter

Re-moulded no more!"[588]

Since Death is the ultimate goal of mankind, the sage will pray to be

delivered as speedily as possible from the miseries of life and refuse

to inflict upon others what, by no fault of his own, he is doomed to

suffer:--

"Amends are richly due from sire to son:

What if thy children rule o'er cities great?

That eminence estranges them the more

From thee, and causes them to wax in hate,

Beholding one who cast them into Life's

Dark labyrinth whence no wit can extricate."[589]

There are many passages to the same effect, showing that Abu ’l-‘Alá

regarded procreation as a sin and universal annihilation as the best

hope for humanity. He acted in accordance with his opinions, for he

never married, and he is said to have desired that the following verse

should be inscribed on his grave:--

"This wrong was by my father done

To me, but ne'er by me to one."[590]

Hating the present life and weary of its burdens, yet seeing no happier

prospect than that of return to non-existence, Abu ’l-‘Alá can scarcely

have disguised from himself what he might shrink openly to avow--that he

was at heart, not indeed an atheist, but wholly incredulous of any

Divine revelation. Religion, as he conceives it, is a product of the

human mind, in which men believe through force of habit and education,

never stopping to consider whether it is true.

"Sometimes you may find a man skilful in his trade, perfect in

sagacity and in the use of arguments, but when he comes to religion

he is found obstinate, so does he follow the old groove. Piety is

implanted in human nature; it is deemed a sure refuge. To the

growing child that which falls from his elders' lips is a lesson

that abides with him all his life. Monks in their cloisters and

devotees in the mosques accept their creed just as a story is handed

down from him who tells it, without distinguishing between a true

interpreter and a false. If one of these had found his kin among the

Magians, he would have declared himself a Magian, or among the

Ṣábians, he would have become nearly or quite like _them_."[591]

Religion, then, is "a fable invented by the ancients," worthless except

to those unscrupulous persons who prey upon human folly and

superstition. Islam is neither better nor worse than any other creed:--

"Ḥanífs are stumbling,[592] Christians all astray,

Jews wildered, Magians far on error's way.

We mortals are composed of two great schools--

Enlightened knaves or else religious fools."[593]

Not only does the poet emphatically reject the proud claim of Islam to

possess a monopoly of truth, but he attacks most of its dogmas in

detail. As to the Koran, Abu ’l-‘Alá could not altogether refrain from

doubting if it was really the Word of God, but he thought so well of the

style that he accepted the challenge flung down by Muḥammad and

produced a rival work (_al-Fuṣúl wa-’l-Gháyát_), which appears to

have been a somewhat frivolous parody of the sacred volume, though in

the author's judgment its inferiority was simply due to the fact that it

was not yet polished by the tongues of four centuries of readers.

Another work which must have sorely offended orthodox Muḥammadans is

the _Risálatu ’l-Ghufrán_ (Epistle of Forgiveness).[594] Here the

Paradise of the Faithful becomes a glorified salon tenanted by various

heathen poets who have been forgiven--hence the title--and received

among the Blest. This idea is carried out with much ingenuity and in a

spirit of audacious burlesque that reminds us of Lucian. The poets are

presented in a series of imaginary conversations with a certain Shaykh

‘Alí b. Manṣúr, to whom the work is addressed, reciting and

explaining their verses, quarrelling with one another, and generally

behaving as literary Bohemians. The second part contains a number of

anecdotes relating to the _zindíqs_ or freethinkers of Islam

interspersed with quotations from their poetry and reflections on the

nature of their belief, which Abu ’l-‘Alá condemns while expressing a

pious hope that they are not so black as they paint themselves. At this

time it may have suited him--he was over sixty--to assume the attitude

of charitable orthodoxy. Like so many wise men of the East, he practised

dissimulation as a fine art--

"I lift my voice to utter lies absurd,

But when I speak the truth, my hushed tones scarce are heard."[595]

In the _Luzúmiyyát_, however, he often unmasks. Thus he describes as

idolatrous relics the two Pillars of the Ka‘ba and the Black Stone,

venerated by every Moslem, and calls the Pilgrimage itself 'a heathen's

journey' (_riḥlatu jáhiliyyin_). The following sentiments do him

honour, but they would have been rank heresy at Mecca:--

"Praise God and pray,

Walk seventy times, not seven, the Temple round--

And impious remain!

Devout is he alone who, when he may

Feast his desires, is found

With courage to abstain."[596]

It is needless to give further instances of the poet's contempt for the

Muḥammadan articles of faith. Considering that he assailed persons as

well as principles, and lashed with bitter invective the powerful class

of the _‘Ulamá_, the clerical and legal representatives of Islam, we may

wonder that the accusation of heresy brought against him was never

pushed home and had no serious consequences. The question was warmly

argued on both sides, and though Abu ’l-‘Alá was pronounced by the

majority to be a freethinker and materialist, he did not lack defenders

who quoted chapter and verse to prove that he was nothing of the kind.

It must be remembered that his works contain no philosophical system;

that his opinions have to be gathered from the ideas which he scatters

incoherently, and for the most part in guarded language, through a long

succession of rhymes; and that this task, already arduous enough, is

complicated by the not infrequent occurrence of sentiments which are

blamelessly orthodox and entirely contradictory to the rest. A brilliant

writer, familiar with Eastern ways of thinking, has observed that in

general the conscience of an Asiatic is composed of the following

ingredients: (1) an almost bare religious designation; (2) a more or

less lively belief in certain doctrines of the creed which he professes;

(3) a resolute opposition to many of its doctrines, even if they should

be the most essential; (4) a fund of ideas relating to completely alien

theories, which occupies more or less room; (5) a constant tendency to

get rid of these ideas and theories and to replace the old by new.[597]

Such phenomena will account for a great deal of logical inconsistency,

but we should beware of invoking them too confidently in this case. Abu

’l-‘Alá with his keen intellect and unfanatical temperament was not the

man to let himself be mystified. Still lamer is the explanation offered

by some Muḥammadan critics, that his thoughts were decided by the

necessities of the difficult metre in which he wrote. It is conceivable

that he may sometimes have doubted his own doubts and given Islam the

benefit, but Von Kremer's conclusion is probably near the truth, namely,

that where the poet speaks as a good Moslem, his phrases if they are not

purely conventional are introduced of set purpose to foil his pious

antagonists or to throw them off the scent. Although he was not without

religion in the larger sense of the word, unprejudiced students of the

later poems must recognise that from the orthodox standpoint he was

justly branded as an infidel. The following translations will serve to

illustrate the negative side of his philosophy:--

"Falsehood hath so corrupted all the world

That wrangling sects each other's gospel chide;

But were not hate Man's natural element,

Churches and mosques had risen side by side."[598]

"What is Religion? A maid kept close that no eye may view her;

The price of her wedding-gifts and dowry baffles the wooer.

Of all the goodly doctrine that I from the pulpit heard

My heart has never accepted so much as a single word!"[599]

"The pillars of this earth are four,

Which lend to human life a base;

God shaped two vessels, Time and Space,

The world and all its folk to store.

"That which Time holds, in ignorance

It holds--why vent on it our spite?

Man is no cave-bound eremite,

But still an eager spy on Chance.

"He trembles to be laid asleep,

Tho' worn and old and weary grown.

We laugh and weep by Fate alone,

Time moves us not to laugh or weep;

"Yet we accuse it innocent,

Which, could it speak, might us accuse,

Our best and worst, at will to choose,

United in a sinful bent."[600]

"'The stars' conjunction comes, divinely sent,

And lo, the veil o'er every creed is rent.

No realm is founded that escapes decay,

The firmest structure soon dissolves away.[601]

With sadness deep a thoughtful mind must scan

Religion made to serve the pelf of Man.

Fear thine own children: sparks at random flung

Consume the very tinder whence they sprung.

Evil are all men; I distinguish not

That part or this: the race entire I blot.

Trust none, however near akin, tho' he

A perfect sense of honour show to thee,

Thy self is the worst foe to be withstood:

Be on thy guard in hours of solitude."

* * * * *

"Desire a venerable shaykh to cite

Reason for his doctrine, he is gravelled quite.

What! shall I ripen ere a leaf is seen?

The tree bears only when 'tis clad in green."[602]

"How have I provoked your enmity?

Christ or Muḥammad, 'tis one to me.

No rays of dawn our path illume,

We are sunk together in ceaseless gloom.

Can blind perceptions lead aright,

Or blear eyes ever have clear sight?

Well may a body racked with pain

Envy mouldering bones in vain;

Yet comes a day when the weary sword

Reposes, to its sheath restored.

Ah, who to me a frame will give

As clod or stone insensitive?--

For when spirit is joined to flesh, the pair

Anguish of mortal sickness share.

O Wind, be still, if wind thy name,

O Flame, die out, if thou art flame!"[603]

Pessimist and sceptic as he was, Abu ’l-‘Alá denies more than he

affirms, but although he rejected the dogmas of positive religion, he

did not fall into utter unbelief; for he found within himself a moral

law to which he could not refuse obedience.

"Take Reason for thy guide and do what she

Approves, the best of counsellors in sooth.

Accept no law the Pentateuch lays down:

Not there is what thou seekest--the plain truth."[604]

He insists repeatedly that virtue is its own reward.

"Oh, purge the good thou dost from hope of recompense

Or profit, as if thou wert one that sells his wares."[605]

His creed is that of a philosopher and ascetic. Slay no living creature,

he says; better spare a flea than give alms. Yet he prefers active

piety, active humanity, to fasting and prayer. "The gist of his moral

teaching is to inculcate as the highest and holiest duty a conscientious

fulfilment of one's obligations with equal warmth and affection towards

all living beings."[606]

Abu ’l-‘Alá died in 1057 A.D., at the age of eighty-four. About ten

years before this time, the Persian poet and traveller, Náṣir-i

Khusraw, passed through Ma‘arra on his way to Egypt. He describes Abu

’l-‘Alá as the chief man in the town, very rich, revered by the

inhabitants, and surrounded by more than two hundred students who came

from all parts to attend his lectures on literature and poetry.[607] We

may set this trustworthy notice against the doleful account which Abu

’l-‘Alá gives of himself in his letters and other works. If not among

the greatest Muḥammadan poets, he is undoubtedly one of the most

original and attractive. After Mutanabbí, even after Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya, he

must appear strangely modern to the European reader. It is astonishing

to reflect that a spirit so unconventional, so free from dogmatic

prejudice, so rational in spite of his pessimism and deeply religious

notwithstanding his attacks on revealed religion, should have ended his

life in a Syrian country-town some years before the battle of Senlac.

Although he did not meddle with politics and held aloof from every sect,

he could truly say of himself, "I am the son of my time" (_ghadawtu ’bna

waqtí_).[608] His poems leave no aspect of the age untouched, and

present a vivid picture of degeneracy and corruption, in which tyrannous

rulers, venal judges, hypocritical and unscrupulous theologians,

swindling astrologers, roving swarms of dervishes and godless

Carmathians occupy a prominent place.[609]

Although the reader may think that too much space has been already

devoted to poetry, I will venture by way of concluding the subject to

mention very briefly a few well-known names which cannot be altogether

omitted from a work of this kind.

[Sidenote: Abú Tammám and Buḥturí.]

Abú Tammám (Ḥabíb b. Aws) and Buḥturí, both of whom flourished in the

ninth century, were distinguished court poets of the same type as

Mutanabbí, but their reputation rests more securely on the anthologies

which they compiled under the title of _Ḥamása_ (see p. 129 seq.).

[Sidenote: Ibnu ’l-Mu‘tazz (861-908 A.D.).]

Abu ’l-‘Abbás ‘Abdulláh, the son of the Caliph al-Mu‘tazz, was a

versatile poet and man of letters, who showed his originality by the

works which he produced in two novel styles of composition. It has often

been remarked that the Arabs have no great epos like the Iliad or the

Persian _Sháhnáma_, but only prose narratives which, though sometimes

epical in tone, are better described as historical romances. Ibnu

’l-Mu‘tazz could not supply the deficiency. He wrote, however, in praise

of his cousin, the Caliph Mu‘taḍid, a metrical epic in miniature,

commencing with a graphic delineation of the wretched state to which the

Empire had been reduced by the rapacity and tyranny of the Turkish

mercenaries. He composed also, besides an anthology of Bacchanalian

pieces, the first important work on Poetics (_Kitábu ’l-Badí‘_). A sad

destiny was in store for this accomplished prince. On the death of the

Caliph Muktarí he was called to the throne, but a few hours after his

accession he was overpowered by the partisans of Muqtadir, who strangled

him as soon as they discovered his hiding-place. Picturing the scene,

one thinks almost inevitably of Nero's dying words, _Qualis artifex

pereo!_

[Sidenote: ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ (1181-1235 A.D.).]

The mystical poetry of the Arabs is far inferior, as a whole, to that of

the Persians. Fervour and passion it has in the highest degree, but it

lacks range and substance, not to speak of imaginative and speculative

power. ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ, though he is undoubtedly the poet of Arabian

mysticism, cannot sustain a comparison with his great Persian

contemporary, Jalálu’l-Dín Rúmí († 1273 A.D.); he surpasses him only in

the intense glow and exquisite beauty of his diction. It will be

convenient to reserve a further account of Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ for the next

chapter, where we shall discuss the development of Ṣúfiism during this

period.

Finally two writers claim attention who owe their reputation to single

poems--a by no means rare phenomenon in the history of Arabic

literature. One of these universally celebrated odes is the _Lámiyyatu

’l-‘Ajam_ (the ode rhyming in _l_ of the non-Arabs) composed in the year

1111 A.D. by Ṭughrá’í; the other is the _Burda_ (Mantle Ode) of

Búṣírí, which I take the liberty of mentioning in this chapter,

although its author died some forty years after the Mongol Invasion.

[Sidenote: Ṭughrá’í († _circa_ 1120 A.D.).]

Ḥasan b. ‘Alí al-Ṭughrá’í was of Persian descent and a native of

Iṣfahán.[610] He held the offices of _kátib_ (secretary) and _munshí_ or

_ṭughrá’í_ (chancellor) under the great Seljúq Sultans, Maliksháh and

Muḥammad, and afterwards became Vizier to the Seljúqid prince Ghiyáthu

’l-Dín Mas‘úd[611] in Mosul. He derived the title by which he is

generally known from the royal signature (_ṭughrá_) which it was his

duty to indite on all State papers over the initial _Bismilláh_. The

_Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Ajam_ is so called with reference to Shanfará's renowned

poem, the _Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Arab_ (see p. 79 seq.), which rhymes in the

same letter; otherwise the two odes have only this in common,[612] that

whereas Shanfará depicts the hardships of an outlaw's life in the

desert, Ṭughrá’í, writing in Baghdád, laments the evil times on which he

has fallen, and complains that younger rivals, base and servile men, are

preferred to him, while he is left friendless and neglected in his old

age.

[Sidenote: Búṣírí († _circa_ 1296 A.D.).]

The _Qaṣídatu ’l-Burda_ (Mantle Ode) of al-Búṣírí[613] is a hymn in

praise of the Prophet. Its author was born in Egypt in 1212 A.D. We know

scarcely anything concerning his life, which, as he himself declares,

was passed in writing poetry and in paying court to the great[614]; but

his biographers tell us that he supported himself by copying

manuscripts, and that he was a disciple of the eminent Ṣúfí, Abu

’l-‘Abbás Aḥmad al-Marsí. It is said that he composed the _Burda_ while

suffering from a stroke which paralysed one half of his body. After

praying God to heal him, he began to recite the poem. Presently he fell

asleep and dreamed that he saw the Prophet, who touched his palsied side

and threw his mantle (_burda_) over him.[615] "Then," said al-Búṣírí, "I

awoke and found myself able to rise." However this may be, the Mantle

Ode is held in extraordinary veneration by Muḥammadans. Its verses are

often learned by heart and inscribed in golden letters on the walls of

public buildings; and not only is the whole poem regarded as a charm

against evil, but some peculiar magical power is supposed to reside in

each verse separately. Although its poetical merit is no more than

respectable, the _Burda_ may be read with pleasure on account of its

smooth and elegant style, and with interest as setting forth in brief

compass the mediæval legend of the Prophet--a legend full of prodigies

and miracles in which the historical figure of Muḥammad is glorified

almost beyond recognition.

[Sidenote: Rhymed prose.]

Rhymed prose (_saj‘_) long retained the religious associations which it

possessed in Pre-islamic times and which were consecrated, for all

Moslems, by its use in the Koran. About the middle of the ninth century

it began to appear in the public sermons (_khuṭab_, sing.

_khuṭba_) of the Caliphs and their viceroys, and it was still further

developed by professional preachers, like Ibn Nubáta († 984 A.D.), and

by official secretaries, like Ibráhím b. Hilál al-Ṣábí († 994 A.D.).

Henceforth rhyme becomes a distinctive and almost indispensable feature

of rhetorical prose.

[Sidenote: Badí‘u ’l-Zamán al-Hamadhání († 1007 A.D.).]

The credit of inventing, or at any rate of making popular, a new and

remarkable form of composition in this style belongs to al-Hamadhání (†

1007 A.D.), on whom posterity conferred the title _Badí‘u ’l-Zamán_,

_i.e._, 'the Wonder of the Age.' Born in Hamadhán (Ecbatana), he left

his native town as a young man and travelled through the greater part of

Persia, living by his wits and astonishing all whom he met by his talent

for improvisation. His _Maqámát_ may be called a romance or literary

Bohemianism. In the _maqáma_ we find some approach to the dramatic

style, which has never been cultivated by the Semites.[616] Hamadhání

imagined as his hero a witty, unscrupulous vagabond journeying from

place to place and supporting himself by the presents which his

impromptu displays of rhetoric, poetry, and learning seldom failed to

draw from an admiring audience. The second character is the _ráwí_ or

narrator, "who should be continually meeting with the other, should

relate his adventures, and repeat his excellent compositions."[617] The

_Maqámát_ of Hamadhání became the model for this kind of writing, and

the types which he created survive unaltered in the more elaborate work

of his successors. Each _maqáma_ forms an independent whole, so that the

complete series may be regarded as a novel consisting of detached

episodes in the hero's life, a medley of prose and verse in which the

story is nothing, the style everything.

[Sidenote: Ḥarírí (1054-1122 A.D.).]

Less original than Badí‘u ’l-Zamán, but far beyond him in variety of

learning and copiousness of language, Abú Muḥammad al-Qásim

al-Ḥarírí of Baṣra produced in his _Maqámát_ a masterpiece which

for eight centuries "has been esteemed as, next to the Koran, the chief

treasure of the Arabic tongue." In the Preface to his work he says that

the composition of _maqámát_ was suggested to him by "one whose

suggestion is a command and whom it is a pleasure to obey." This was the

distinguished Persian statesman, Anúshirwán b. Khálid,[618] who

afterwards served as Vizier under the Caliph Mustarshid Billáh

(1118-1135 A.D.) and Sultán Mas‘úd, the Seljúq (1133-1152 A.D.); but at

the time when he made Ḥarírí's acquaintance he was living in

retirement at Baṣra and devoting himself to literary studies.

Ḥarírí begged to be excused on the score that his abilities were

unequal to the task, "for the lame steed cannot run like the strong

courser."[619] Finally, however, he yielded to the request of

Anúshirwán, and, to quote his own words--

"I composed, in spite of hindrances that I suffered

From dullness of capacity and dimness of intellect,

And dryness of imagination and distressing anxieties,

Fifty Maqámát, which contain serious language and lightsome,

And combine refinement with dignity of style,

And brilliancies with jewels of eloquence,

And beauties of literature with its rarities,

Beside verses of the Koran wherewith I adorned them,

And choice metaphors, and Arab proverbs that I interspersed,

And literary elegancies and grammatical riddles,

And decisions based on the (double) meaning of words,

And original discourses and highly-wrought orations,

And affecting exhortations as well as entertaining jests:

The whole of which I have indited as by the tongue of Abú Zayd

of Sarúj,

The part of narrator being assigned to Harith son of Hammám

of Baṣra."[620]

Ḥarírí then proceeds to argue that his _Maqámát_ are not mere frivolous

stories such as strict Moslems are bound to reprobate in accordance with

a well-known passage of the Koran referring to Naḍr b. Ḥárith, who

mortally offended the Prophet by amusing the Quraysh with the old

Persian legends of Rustam and Isfandiyár (Koran, xxxi, 5-6): "_There is

one that buyeth idle tales that he may seduce men from the way of God,

without knowledge, and make it a laughing-stock: these shall suffer a

shameful punishment. And when Our signs are read to him, he turneth his

back in disdain as though he heard them not, as though there were in his

ears a deafness: give him joy of a grievous punishment!_" Ḥarírí insists

that the _Assemblies_ have a moral purpose. The ignorant and malicious,

he says, will probably condemn his work, but intelligent readers will

perceive, if they lay prejudice aside, that it is as useful and

instructive as the fables of beasts, &c.,[621] to which no one has ever

objected. That his fears of hostile criticism were not altogether

groundless is shown by the following remarks of the author of the

popular history entitled _al-Fakhrí_ († _circa_ 1300 A.D.). This

writer, after claiming that his own book is more useful than the

_Ḥamása_ of Abú Tammám, continues:--

[Sidenote: _Maqámát_ criticised as immoral.]

"And, again, it is more profitable than the _Maqámát_ on which men

have set their hearts, and which they eagerly commit to memory;

because the reader derives no benefit from _Maqámát_ except

familiarity with elegant composition and knowledge of the rules of

verse and prose. Undoubtedly they contain maxims and ingenious

devices and experiences; but all this has a debasing effect on the

mind, for it is founded on begging and sponging and disgraceful

scheming to acquire a few paltry pence. Therefore, if they do good

in one direction, they do harm in another; and this point has been

noticed by some critics of the _Maqámát_ of Ḥarírí and Badí‘u

’l-Zamán."[622]

[Sidenote: The character of Abú Zayd.]

Before pronouncing on the justice of this censure, we must consider for

a moment the character of Abú Zayd, the hero of Ḥarírí's work, whose

adventures are related by a certain Ḥárith b. Hammám, under which

name the author is supposed to signify himself. According to the general

tradition, Ḥarírí was one day seated with a number of savants in the

mosque of the Banú Ḥarám at Baṣra, when an old man entered,

footsore and travel-stained. On being asked who he was and whence he

came, he answered that his name of honour was Abú Zayd and that he came

from Sarúj.[623] He described in eloquent and moving terms how his

native town had been plundered by the Greeks, who made his daughter a

captive and drove him forth to exile and poverty. Ḥarírí was so

struck with his wonderful powers of improvisation that on the same

evening he began to compose the _Maqáma of the Banú Ḥarám_,[624]

where Abú Zayd is introduced in his invariable character: "a crafty old

man, full of genius and learning, unscrupulous of the artifices which he

uses to effect his purpose, reckless in spending in forbidden

indulgences the money he has obtained by his wit or deceit, but with

veins of true feeling in him, and ever yielding to unfeigned emotion

when he remembers his devastated home and his captive child."[625] If an

immoral tendency has been attributed to the _Assemblies_ of Ḥarírí it

is because the author does not conceal his admiration for this

unprincipled and thoroughly disreputable scamp. Abú Zayd, indeed, is

made so fascinating that we can easily pardon his knaveries for the sake

of the pearls of wit and wisdom which he scatters in splendid

profusion--excellent discourses, edifying sermons, and plaintive

lamentations mingled with rollicking ditties and ribald jests. Modern

readers are not likely to agree with the historian quoted above, but

although they may deem his criticism illiberal, they can hardly deny

that it has some justification.

Ḥarírí's rhymed prose might be freely imitated in English, but the

difficulty of rendering it in rhyme with tolerable fidelity has caused

me to abandon the attempt to produce a version of one of the

_Assemblies_ in the original form.[626] I will translate instead three

poems which are put into the mouth of Abú Zayd. The first is a tender

elegiac strain recalling far-off days of youth and happiness in his

native land:--

"Ghassán is my noble kindred, Sarúj is my land of birth,

Where I dwelt in a lofty mansion of sunlike glory and worth,

A Paradise for its sweetness and beauty and pleasant mirth!

And oh, the life that I led there abounding in all delight!

I trailed my robe on its meadows, while Time flew a careless flight,

Elate in the flower of manhood, no pleasure veiled from my sight.

Now, if woe could kill, I had died of the troubles that haunt me here,

Or could past joy ever be ransomed, my heart's blood had not been

dear,

Since death is better than living a brute's life year after year.

Subdued to scorn as a lion whom base hyenas torment.

But Luck is to blame, else no one had failed of his due ascent:

If she were straight, the conditions of men would never be bent."[627]

The scene of the eleventh _Assembly_ is laid in Sáwa, a city lying

midway between Hamadhán (Ecbatana) and Rayy (Rhages). "Ḥárith, in a

fit of religious zeal, betakes himself to the public burial ground, for

the purpose of contemplation. He finds a funeral in progress, and when

it is over an old man, with his face muffled in a cloak, takes his stand

on a hillock, and pours forth a discourse on the certainty of death and

judgment.... He then rises into poetry and declaims a piece which is one

of the noblest productions of Arabic literature. In lofty morality, in

religious fervour, in beauty of language, in power and grace of metre,

this magnificent hymn is unsurpassed."[628]

"Pretending sense in vain, how long, O light of brain, wilt thou heap

sin and bane, and compass error's span?

Thy conscious guilt avow! The white hairs on thy brow admonish thee,

and thou hast ears unstopt, O man!

Death's call dost thou not hear? Rings not his voice full clear? Of

parting hast no fear, to make thee sad and wise?

How long sunk in a sea of sloth and vanity wilt thou play heedlessly,

as though Death spared his prize?

Till when, far wandering from virtue, wilt thou cling to evil ways

that bring together vice in brief?

For thy Lord's anger shame thou hast none, but let maim o'ertake thy

cherished aim, then feel'st thou burning grief.

Thou hail'st with eager joy the coin of yellow die, but if a bier pass

by, feigned is thy sorry face;

Perverse and callous wight! thou scornest counsel right to follow

the false light of treachery and disgrace.

Thy pleasure thou dost crave, to sordid gain a slave, forgetting

the dark grave and what remains of dole;

Were thy true weal descried, thy lust would not misguide nor thou

be terrified by words that should console.

Not tears, blood shall thine eyes pour at the great Assize, when thou

hast no allies, no kinsman thee to save;

Straiter thy tomb shall be than needle's cavity: deep, deep thy plunge

I see as diver's 'neath the wave.

There shall thy limbs be laid, a feast for worms arrayed, till utterly

decayed are wood and bones withal,

Nor may thy soul repel that ordeal horrible, when o'er the Bridge of

Hell she must escape or fall.

Astray shall leaders go, and mighty men be low, and sages shall cry,

'Woe like this was never yet.'

Then haste, my thoughtless friend, what thou hast marred to mend,

for life draws near its end, and still thou art in the net.

Trust not in fortune, nay, though she be soft and gay; for she will

spit one day her venom, if thou dote;

Abate thy haughty pride! lo, Death is at thy side, fastening, whate'er

betide, his fingers on thy throat.

When prosperous, refrain from arrogant disdain, nor give thy tongue

the rein: a modest tongue is best.

Comfort the child of bale and listen to his tale: repair thine actions

frail, and be for ever blest.

Feather the nest once more of those whose little store has vanished:

ne'er deplore the loss nor miser be;

With meanness bravely cope, and teach thine hand to ope, and spurn

the misanthrope, and make thy bounty free.

Lay up provision fair and leave what brings thee care: for sea

the ship prepare and dread the rising storm.

This, friend, is what I preach expressed in lucid speech. Good luck

to all and each who with my creed conform!"

In the next _Maqáma_--that of Damascus--we find Abú Zayd, gaily attired,

amidst casks and vats of wine, carousing and listening to the music of

lutes and singing--

"I ride and I ride through the waste far and wide, and I fling away

pride to be gay as the swallow;

Stem the torrent's fierce speed, tame the mettlesome steed, that

wherever I lead Youth and Pleasure may follow.

I bid gravity pack, and I strip bare my back lest liquor I lack when

the goblet is lifted:

Did I never incline to the quaffing of wine, I had ne'er been with

fine wit and eloquence gifted.

Is it wonderful, pray, that an old man should stay in a well-stored

seray by a cask overflowing?

Wine strengthens the knees, physics every disease, and from sorrow

it frees, the oblivion-bestowing!

Oh, the purest of joys is to live sans disguise unconstrained by

the ties of a grave reputation,

And the sweetest of love that the lover can prove is when fear and

hope move him to utter his passion.

Thy love then proclaim, quench the smouldering flame, for 'twill

spark out thy shame and betray thee to laughter:

Heal the wounds of thine heart and assuage thou the smart by the cups

that impart a delight men seek after;

While to hand thee the bowl damsels wait who cajole and enravish

the soul with eyes tenderly glancing,

And singers whose throats pour such high-mounting notes, when

the melody floats, iron rocks would be dancing!

Obey not the fool who forbids thee to pull beauty's rose when in

full bloom thou'rt free to possess it;

Pursue thine end still, tho' it seem past thy skill; let them say

what they will, take thy pleasure and bless it!

Get thee gone from thy sire, if he thwart thy desire; spread thy

nets nor enquire what the nets are receiving;

But be true to a friend, shun the miser and spend, ways of charity

wend, be unwearied in giving.

He that knocks enters straight at the Merciful's gate, so repent

or e'er Fate call thee forth from the living!"

The reader may judge from these extracts whether the _Assemblies_ of

Ḥarírí are so deficient in matter as some critics have imagined. But,

of course, the celebrity of the work is mainly due to its consummate

literary form--a point on which the Arabs have always bestowed singular

attention. Ḥarírí himself was a subtle grammarian, living in

Baṣra, the home of philological science;[629] and though he wrote to

please rather than to instruct, he seems to have resolved that his work

should illustrate every beauty and nicety of which the Arabic language

is capable. We Europeans can see as little merit or taste in the verbal

conceits--equivoques, paronomasias, assonances, alliterations,

&c.--with which his pages are thickly studded, as in _tours de force_

of composition which may be read either forwards or backwards, or which

consist entirely of pointed or of unpointed letters; but our impatience

of such things should not blind us to the fact that they are intimately

connected with the genius and traditions of the Arabic tongue,[630] and

therefore stand on a very different footing from those euphuistic

extravagances which appear, for example, in English literature of the

Elizabethan age. By Ḥarírí's countrymen the _Maqámát_ are prized as

an almost unique monument of their language, antiquities, and culture.

One of the author's contemporaries, the famous Zamakhsharí, has

expressed the general verdict in pithy verse--

"I swear by God and His marvels,

By the pilgrims' rite and their shrine:

Ḥarírí's _Assemblies_ are worthy

To be written in gold each line."

[Sidenote: The religious literature of the period.]

Concerning some of the specifically religious sciences, such as Dogmatic

Theology and Mysticism, we shall have more to say in the following

chapter, while as to the science of Apostolic Tradition (_Ḥadíth_) we

must refer the reader to what has been already said. All that can be

attempted here is to take a passing notice of the most eminent writers

and the most celebrated works of this epoch in the field of religion.

[Sidenote: Málik b. Anas (713-795 A.D.).]

The place of honour belongs to the Imám Málik b. Anas of Medína, whose

_Muwaṭṭa’_ is the first great _corpus_ of Muḥammadan Law. He

was a partisan of the ‘Alids, and was flogged by command of the Caliph

Manṣúr in consequence of his declaration that he did not consider the

oath of allegiance to the ‘Abbásid dynasty to have any binding effect.

[Sidenote: Bukhárí and Muslim.]

The two principal authorities for Apostolic Tradition are Bukhárí († 870

A.D.) and Muslim († 875 A.D.), authors of the collections entitled

_Ṣaḥíḥ_. Compilations of a narrower range, embracing only those

traditions which bear on the _Sunna_ or custom of the Prophet, are the

_Sunan_ of Abú Dáwúd al-Sijistání († 889 A.D.), the _Jámi‘_ of Abú ‘Isá

Muḥammad al-Tirmidhí († 892 A.D.), the _Sunan_ of al-Nasá’í († 915

A.D.), and the _Sunan_ of Ibn Mája († 896 A.D.). These, together with the

_Ṣaḥíḥs_ of Bukhárí and Muslim, form the Six Canonical Books

(_al-kutub al-sitta_), which are held in the highest veneration. Amongst

the innumerable works of a similar kind produced in this period it will

suffice to mention the _Maṣábíḥu ’l-Sunna_ by al-Baghawí (†

_circa_ 1120 A.D.). A later adaptation called _Mishkátu

’l-Maṣábíḥ_ has been often printed, and is still extremely

popular.

[Sidenote: Máwardí († 1058 A.D.).]

[Sidenote: Arabic authorities on Ṣúfiism.]

[Sidenote: Ghazálí († 1111 A.D.).]

Omitting the great manuals of Moslem Jurisprudence, which are without

literary interest in the larger sense, we may pause for a moment at the

name of al-Máwardí, a Sháfi‘ite lawyer, who wrote a well-known treatise

on politics--the _Kitábu ’l-Aḥkám al-Sulṭániyya_, or 'Book of the

Principles of Government.' His standpoint is purely theoretical. Thus he

lays down that the Caliph should be elected by the body of learned,

pious, and orthodox divines, and that the people must leave the

administration of the State to the Caliph absolutely, as being its

representative. Máwardí lived at Baghdád during the period of Buwayhid

ascendancy, a period described by Sir W. Muir in the following words:

"The pages of our annalists are now almost entirely occupied with the

political events of the day, in the guidance of which the Caliphs had

seldom any concern, and which therefore need no mention here."[631]

Under the ‘Abbásid dynasty the mystical doctrines of the Ṣúfís were

systematised and expounded. Some of the most important Arabic works of

reference on Ṣúfiism are the _Qútu ’l-Qulúb_, or 'Food of Hearts,' by

Abú Ṭálib al-Makkí († 996 A.D.); the _Kitábu ’l-Ta‘arruf li-Madhhabi

ahli ’l-Taṣawwuf_, or 'Book of Enquiry as to the Religion of the

Ṣúfís,' by Muḥammad b. Isḥáq al-Kalábádhí († _circa_ 1000 A.D.);

the _Ṭabaqátu ’l-Ṣúfiyya_, or 'Classes of the Ṣúfís,' by Abú

‘Abd al-Raḥmán al-Sulamí († 1021 A.D.); the _Ḥilyatu ’l-Awliyá_,

or 'Adornment of the Saints,' by Abú Nu‘aym al-Iṣfahání († 1038

A.D.); the _Risálatu ’l-Qushayriyya_, or 'Qushayrite Tract,' by Abu

’l-Qásim al-Qushayrí of Naysábúr († 1074 A.D.); the _Iḥyá’u ‘Ulúm

al-Dín_, or 'Revivification of the Religious Sciences,' by Ghazálí (†

1111 A.D.); and the _‘Awárifu ’l-Ma‘árif_, or 'Bounties of Knowledge,'

by Shihábu ’l-Dín Abú Ḥafṣ ‘Umar al-Suhrawardí († 1234 A.D.)--a

list which might easily be extended. In Dogmatic Theology there is none

to compare with Abú Ḥámid al-Ghazálí, surnamed 'the Proof of Islam'

(_Ḥujjatu ’l-Islám_). He is a figure of such towering importance that

some detailed account of his life and opinions must be inserted in a

book like this, which professes to illustrate the history of

Muḥammadan thought. Here, however, we shall only give an outline of

his biography in order to pave the way for discussion of his

intellectual achievements and his far-reaching influence.

[Sidenote: Life of Ghazálí according to the _Shadharátu ’l-Dhahab_.]

"In this year (505 A.H. = 1111 A.D.) died the Imám, who was the

Ornament of the Faith and the Proof of Islam, Abú Ḥámid

Muḥammad ... of Ṭús, the Sháfi‘ite. His death took place on the

14th of the Latter Jumádá at Ṭábarán, a village near Ṭús. He

was then fifty-five years of age. Ghazzálí is equivalent to Ghazzál,

like ‘Aṭṭárí (for ‘Aṭṭár) and Khabbází (for Khabbáz), in

the dialect of the people of Khurásán[632]: so it is stated by the

author of the _‘Ibar_.[633] Al-Isnawí says in his

_Ṭabaqát_[634]:--Ghazzálí is an Imám by whose name breasts are

dilated and souls are revived, and in whose literary productions the

ink-horn exults and the paper quivers with joy; and at the hearing

thereof voices are hushed and heads are bowed. He was born at Ṭús

in the year 450 A.H. = 1058-1059 A.D. His father used to spin wool

(_yaghzilu ’l-ṣúf_) and sell it in his shop. On his deathbed he

committed his two sons, Ghazzálí himself and his brother Aḥmad,

to the care of a pious Ṣúfí, who taught them writing and educated

them until the money left him by their father was all spent. 'Then,'

says Ghazzálí, 'we went to the college to learn divinity (_fiqh_) so

that we might gain our livelihood.' After studying there for some

time he journeyed to Abú Naṣr al-Ismá‘ílí in Jurján, then to the

Imámu ’l-Ḥaramayn[635] at Naysábúr, under whom he studied with

such assiduity that he became the best scholastic of his

contemporaries (_ṣára anẓara ahli zamánihi_), and he lectured

_ex cathedrâ_ in his master's lifetime, and wrote books.... And on

the death of his master he set out for the Camp[636] and presented

himself to the Niẓámu ’l-Mulk, whose assembly was the

alighting-place of the learned and the destination of the leading

divines and savants; and there, as was due to his high merit, he

enjoyed the society of the principal doctors, and disputed with his

opponents and rebutted them in spite of their eminence. So the

Niẓámu ’l-Mulk inclined to him and showed him great honour, and

his name flew through the world. Then, in the year '84 (1091 A.D.)

he was called to a professorship in the Niẓámiyya College at

Baghdád, where a splendid reception awaited him. His words reached

far and wide, and his influence soon exceeded that of the Emírs and

Viziers. But at last his lofty spirit recoiled from worldly

vanities. He gave himself up to devotion and dervishhood, and set

out, in the year '88 (1095 A.D.), for the Ḥijáz.[637] On his

return from the Pilgrimage he journeyed to Damascus and made his

abode there for ten years in the minaret of the Congregational

Mosque, and composed several works, of which the _Iḥyá_ is said

to be one. Then, after visiting Jerusalem and Alexandria, he

returned to his home at Ṭús, intent on writing and worship and

constant recitation of the Koran and dissemination of knowledge and

avoidance of intercourse with men. The Vizier Fakhru ’l-Mulk,[638]

son of the Niẓámu ’l-Mulk, came to see him, and urged him by

every means in his power to accept a professorship in the

Niẓámiyya College at Naysábúr.[639] Ghazzálí consented, but after

teaching for a time, resigned the appointment and returned to end

his days in his native town."

[Sidenote: His principal works.]

Besides his _magnum opus_, the already-mentioned _Iḥyá_, in which he

expounds theology and the ethics of religion from the standpoint of the

moderate Ṣúfí school, Ghazálí wrote a great number of important

works, such as the _Munqidh mina ’l-Ḑalál_, or 'Deliverer from

Error,' a sort of 'Apologia pro Vitâ Suâ'; the _Kímiyá’u ’l-Sa‘ádat_, or

'Alchemy of Happiness,' which was originally written in Persian; and the

_Taháfutu ’l-Falásifa_, or 'Collapse of the Philosophers,' a polemical

treatise designed to refute and destroy the doctrines of Moslem

philosophy. This work called forth a rejoinder from the celebrated Ibn

Rushd (Averroes), who died at Morocco in 1198-1199 A.D.

[Sidenote: Shahrastání's 'Book of Religions and Sects.']

Here we may notice two valuable works on the history of religion, both

of which are generally known as _Kitábu ’l-Milal wa-’l-Niḥal_,[640]

that is to say, 'The Book of Religions and Sects,' by Ibn Ḥazm of

Cordova († 1064 A.D.) and Abu ’l-Fatḥ al-Shahrastání († 1153 A.D.).

Ibn Ḥazm we shall meet with again in the chapter which deals

specially with the history and literature of the Spanish Moslems.

Shahrastání, as he is named after his birthplace, belonged to the

opposite extremity of the Muḥammadan Empire, being a native of

Khurásán, the huge Eastern province bounded by the Oxus. Cureton, who

edited the Arabic text of the _Kitábu ’l-Milal wa-’l-Niḥal_ (London,

1842-1846), gives the following outline of its contents:--

After five introductory chapters, the author proceeds to arrange his

book into two great divisions; the one comprising the Religious, the

other the Philosophical Sects. The former of these contains an

account of the various Sects of the followers of Muḥammad, and

likewise of those to whom a true revelation had been made (the _Ahlu

’l-Kitáb_, or 'People of the Scripture'), that is, Jews and

Christians; and of those who had a doubtful or pretended revelation

(_man lahú shubhatu ’l-Kitáb_), such as the Magi and the Manichæans.

The second division comprises an account of the philosophical

opinions of the Sabæans (Ṣábians), which are mainly set forth in

a very interesting dialogue between a Sabæan and an orthodox

Muḥammadan; of the tenets of various Greek Philosophers and some

of the Fathers of the Christian Church; and also of the

Muḥammadan doctors, more particularly of the system of Ibn Síná

or Avicenna, which the author explains at considerable length. The

work terminates with an account of the tenets of the Arabs before

the commencement of Islamism, and of the religion of the people of

India.

[Sidenote: Grammar and philology.]

[Sidenote: The invention of Arabic grammar.]

[Sidenote: The philogists of Baṣra.]

The science of grammar took its rise in the cities of Baṣra and Kúfa,

which were founded not long after Muḥammad's death, and which

remained the chief centres of Arabian life and thought outside the

peninsula until they were eclipsed by the great ‘Abbásid capital. In

both towns the population consisted of Bedouin Arabs, belonging to

different tribes and speaking many different dialects, while there were

also thousands of artisans and clients who spoke Persian as their

mother-tongue, so that the classical idiom was peculiarly exposed to

corrupting influences. If the pride and delight of the Arabs in their

noble language led them to regard the maintenance of its purity as a

national duty, they were equally bound by their religious convictions to

take decisive measures for ensuring the correct pronunciation and

interpretation of that "miracle of Divine eloquence," the Arabic Koran.

To this latter motive the invention of grammar is traditionally

ascribed. The inventor is related to have been Abu ’l-Aswad al-Du’ilí,

who died at Baṣra during the Umayyad period. "Abu ’l-Aswad, having

been asked where he had acquired the science of grammar, answered that

he had learned the rudiments of it from ‘Alí b. Abí Ṭálib. It is said

that he never made known any of the principles which he had received

from ‘Alí till Ziyád[641] sent to him the order to compose something

which might serve as a guide to the public and enable them to understand

the Book of God. He at first asked to be excused, but on hearing a man

recite the following passage out of the Koran, _anna ’lláha baríun mina

’l-mushrikína wa-rasúluhu_,[642] which last word the reader pronounced

_rasúlihi_, he exclaimed, 'I never thought that things would have come

to this.' He then returned to Ziyád and said, 'I will do what you

ordered.'"[643] The Baṣra school of grammarians which Abu ’l-Aswad is

said to have founded is older than the rival school of Kúfa and

surpassed it in fame. Its most prominent representatives were Abú ‘Amr

b. al-‘Alá († 770 A.D.), a diligent and profound student of the Koran,

who on one occasion burned all his collections of old poetry, &c., and

abandoned himself to devotion; Khalíl b. Aḥmad, inventor of the

Arabic system of metres and author of the first Arabic lexicon (the

_Kitábu ’l-‘Ayn_), which, however, he did not live to complete; the

Persian Síbawayhi, whose Grammar, entitled 'The Book of Síbawayhi,' is

universally celebrated; the great Humanists al-Aṣma‘í and Abú ‘Ubayda

who flourished under Hárún al-Rashid; al-Mubarrad, about a century

later, whose best-known work, the _Kámil_, has been edited by Professor

William Wright; his contemporary al-Sukkarí, a renowned collector and

critic of old Arabian poetry; and Ibn Durayd († 934 A.D.), a

distinguished philologist, genealogist, and poet, who received a pension

from the Caliph Muqtadir in recognition of his services on behalf of

science, and whose principal works, in addition to the famous ode known

as the _Maqṣúra_, are a voluminous lexicon (_al-Jamhara fi ’l-Lugha_)

and a treatise on the genealogies of the Arab tribes (_Kitábu

’l-Ishtiqáq_).

[Sidenote: The philogists of Kúfa.]