At the pressing entreaty of the terrified Basrans the government sent

the Turkish general Jolán. For six months he lay in camp face to face

with the Zenj. His troops, consisting mostly of horsemen, could not move

freely over the ground, thickly planted as it was with date-palms and

other trees, and broken up by water-courses. At last a night attack by

the negroes upon the entrenched camp made such an impression upon his

soldiers, that Jolán judged it expedient to withdraw to Basra.

Previously to this an attack of the Basrans had been victoriously

repelled by the Zenj. The latter now grew so bold that they seized upon

a fleet of twenty-four vessels bound for Basra; much blood was shed in

this action, and the booty, including many captive women and children,

was very great. On Wednesday, 19th June 870, they attacked the

flourishing town of Obolla, which lay four hours from Basra, on the

Tigris (approximately on the site of the modern Bussorah), and captured

it after a brief struggle, in which the commandant fell along with his

son. The slaughter was great: many were drowned; the city, built of

wood, fell a prey to the flames. The fall of Obolla had such an effect

upon the inhabitants of Abbádán, a town on an island at the mouth of the

Tigris, that they made their submission to the Zenj; in doing so they

had to deliver up their slaves and all their arms; the former augmenting

the fighting strength of the victors. Hereupon the negro chief sent an

army far into Khúzistán (Susiana), the adjoining country on the east.

Wherever submission was not made, fire and sword did their work. On

Monday, 14th August, the capital Ahwáz (on the stream now known as the

Kárún) was taken. The garrison of this important place had prudently

withdrawn, and this doubtless secured for the inhabitants a milder

treatment. But, of course, all the property of the government and of the

governor, who with his people had remained at his post, was confiscated.

Thus, then, within less than a year an adventurer at the head of negro

slaves had taken considerable cities, made himself master of the mouth

of the Tigris, and gained control of wide territories. Even the

disturbance to commerce was very serious. The communications of Bagdad,

the world-city, were broken, and its victualling rendered a matter of

difficulty. Basra trembled at the fate of Obolla. Matters certainly

could never have gone quite so far, if in the meantime the greatest

confusion had not prevailed at the then residence of the Caliph, Sámarrá

(on the Tigris, some three days’ journey above Bagdad). At the very time

of the fall of Obolla the disputes of those in authority had led to the

death, after less than a year’s reign, of the pious Caliph Muhtadí, and

the proclamation of his cousin Motamid as Caliph. But this was the

beginning of an improved state of affairs. For though Motamid was not at

all such a sovereign as the times demanded, yet his brother Mowaffak,

who in reality held the reins of government, leaving to the Caliph only

the honour and luxury of the exalted position, had intelligence and

perseverance enough gradually to restore the power of the dynasty, in

the central provinces at least. At first, indeed, he had too much on

hand elsewhere to be able to think of the Zenj, but in the early summer

of 871 he had got so far as to send against them an army under the

command of his chamberlain Saíd. Saíd at first inflicted serious losses

on them, but in the end suffered a disastrous defeat through a night

attack. He was recalled, but his successor fared no better. Five hundred

heads of soldiers of his were exhibited in the immediate neighbourhood

of Basra; many were drowned. In Susiana, too, a general of the blacks

had fought with success, but their chief called him back to cut off the

Basrans anew from communication with the Tigris, which had recently been

reopened for them by the imperial troops. This done, the Zenj for some

time pressed hard on Basra itself, which had but an inadequate garrison,

was torn by party dissensions, and was suffering from dearth. The

negroes were joined by a number of Bedouins. Great as is the contempt

with which the genuine Arab regards the black, the prospect of plunder,

and the plunder of so rich a town as Basra, is an attraction which the

hungry son of the desert cannot resist. These Bedouins were not equal to

the Zenj, either in bravery or in loyalty; but they were valuable to the

chief, as supplying him with a body of cavalry. On the 7th September

871, during the Friday service, the negro general Mohallabí, with these

Arab horsemen and with black foot soldiers, penetrated into the city,

but retired once more, after setting fire to it in several places. It

was not till Monday that the Zenj took full possession. The massacre

that followed was frightful. It is even alleged that many inhabitants

were induced, by offers of quarter, to gather together at certain

places, where they could more easily be cut down. The chief had vowed

direst vengeance on the city which had deceived his hopes. His general

Alí, son of Abbán, had allowed a deputation from one of the parties of

the town to approach his chief with prayers for quarter; but he would

not admit them to his presence, and superseded the general by a less

soft-hearted man. The brutal negro slaves waded in the blood of the free

men. The lowest estimate places the number of the slain in Basra at

300,000. The captured women and children were carried into slavery. The

noblest women of the houses of Alí and of the reigning house of Abbás

were sold to the highest bidder. Many negroes are said to have received

as many as ten slaves, or more, for their share.

But a permanent occupation of the great city was not feasible. It was

forthwith evacuated, and the army, which, immediately after the arrival

of the shocking tidings, had been despatched from the capital, under

Mowallad, against the Zenj, was able, in conjunction with the remains of

the troops already in the district, to occupy Basra and Obolla without

striking a blow. Many inhabitants who had been lucky enough to escape

gathered together once more in Basra. But when Mowallad proceeded

further against the Zenj, he was, like his predecessors, defeated in a

night attack, and compelled to withdraw again to the neighbourhood of

the town. In Susiana likewise the fortunes of war, after some

fluctuations, proved favourable to the Zenj.

Mowaffak himself now advanced with a brilliant force to the

neighbourhood of the negro city; but this also suffered defeat (29th

April 872). The mortal wound of Moflih, the actual commander, seems to

have thrown the soldiers into confusion at once. Mowaffak remained in

the district of Obolla, keeping the Zenj steadily in his eye. In one of

the battles of this period one of their best generals, Yahyá of Bahrein,

was wounded and made prisoner. He was brought to Sámarrá, and there, in

the brutal and cowardly fashion then customary in the treatment of

prominent captive rebels, was led about on a camel for exhibition before

being cruelly put to death in the presence of the Caliph.

After Mowaffak’s troops had somewhat recovered from the severe

sicknesses from which they had suffered in those hot marshy regions, and

had repaired their equipment, he again marched against the enemy; but

although he occasionally gained some advantage and succeeded in rescuing

captive women and children, he in the end sustained another reverse;

and, to add to his misfortunes, his camp took fire and was burned.

Towards the beginning of full summer, accordingly, he found himself

compelled to quit the proper seat of war, and to withdraw to Wásit. His

army melted away almost entirely, and he himself, in January 873,

returned to Sámarrá, leaving Mowallad behind him in Wásit. The

expedition on which such great hopes had been built had come to nothing;

yet it had not been wholly vain, for Mowaffak had come to know the enemy

more perfectly, and had seen more clearly how he was to be reached.

After the imperial army had left the field, the negro chief again sent

considerable forces into Susiana, who, with some trouble, succeeded a

second time in taking Ahwáz, the capital (beginning of May 873). Several

prisoners of distinction, who had fallen into the hands of the victors

there, had their lives spared by the chief, doubtless with a view to

heavy ransoms. The expeditions of the Zenj into the neighbouring

countries, be it noted, were designed less for the acquisition of

permanent possessions than to procure food and booty, perhaps also to

inspire terror in the enemy. The Zenj leader may sometimes have dreamt

of conquests on the grand scale, but in the end he always recognised

that he and his negroes were safe only among their marshes and ditches.

A new army, despatched from the capital, ultimately defeated the Zenj in

Susiana, and drove them out of the country. Other armies pressed on them

from other quarters, and sought to cut off their supplies. The principal

leader in these enterprises was one of the most powerful men in the

empire—Músá the Turk, son of Boghá, who had left Sámarrá in September

873. Still nothing decisive took place.

A considerable interval passes, during which we learn nothing of the

Zenj. Meanwhile, they were aided by a rising to which they had not

contributed, and which had not them in view. For when a rebel, who had

made himself master of Persia proper (Persis), had vanquished one of the

subordinates of Músá, the latter found himself uncomfortable in Wásit,

and begged to be relieved of his post (spring, 875). Provisionally,

Mowaffak undertook, nominally at least, the government of Músá’s

provinces along with the war against the Zenj. The latter had meanwhile

taken Ahwáz a third time, and had proved disastrous occupants. They had

to be left alone, for now a quite new and very dangerous enemy made a

diversion in their favour. Yakúb, son of Laith, the coppersmith

(Saffár), who had conquered for himself a great empire in the East,

aiming also at the possession of the central lands of the caliphate,

forced his way through Persia and Susiana and advanced upon Bagdad. But

between Wásit and the capital he was met by Mowaffak with the imperial

army, and decisively defeated (April 876).[57]

The Zenj, of course, took advantage of the withdrawal of troops from the

lower Tigris, every available soldier being required against the

coppersmith. They extended themselves further to the north, where the

Arab tribes who had their settlements in the marshy districts to the

south of Wásit lent them a helping hand. Isolated efforts to drive them

back had no result. The negro king now seriously exerted himself to

become sovereign of Susiana. A Kurdish upstart, Mohammed, son of

Obaidalláh, who, under Yakúb as his superior, had made himself master of

part of that province, became his ally, but with no sincere intentions.

The two armies parted, and consequently the Zenj were defeated by the

imperial troops, especially as a number of Bedouins had gone over to the

latter. The _Societas malorum_ had not held good. Yet the government

derived no substantial benefit; in the long-run the Zenj retained, even

in these regions, the upper hand. All sorts of troubles, and, in

particular, the threatening proximity of Yakúb, who would not be

propitiated by Mowaffak, and who might break out again at any moment,

sufficiently explain why nothing considerable was attempted against

them. For the inhabitants of those countries this must have been a

dreadful time. Yakúb peremptorily rejected the alliance tendered by the

chief of the Zenj, yet, at last, without definite agreement, a truce was

established between the two enemies of Mowaffak. But after Yakúb’s death

(4th June 879) the imperial regent quickly induced his successor, his

brother Amr, to conclude a peace. Meanwhile, he made him very great

concessions, in order that in his great expedition against the blacks

his left flank and his rear might remain covered.

In 878 the Zenj succeeded in capturing Wásit and other cities of

Babylonia; the customary atrocities were, of course, not wanting. But in

the end not even Wásit was held; Mowaffak’s lieutenant again forced the

Zenj back to bounds. The latter continued to make plundering and

devastating incursions; in 879 they ventured as far as Jarjaráyá, less

than seventy miles below Bagdad, so that the terrified inhabitants of

the country fled for refuge to the capital.

In Susiana, Tekín the general opposed the Zenj with vigour, and relieved

the great city of Shúshter which they were besieging, but afterwards

entered into negotiations with them. When these became known, one

portion of his army went over to the enemy, another joined Mohammed, son

of Obaidalláh. Such things throw a strange light upon the discipline and

loyalty of the imperial army. After much fighting and conference the

Kurdish Mohammed had at last to bring himself to recognise the supremacy

of the negro chief, to surrender to him a part of his territory, along

with the important town of Rámhormuz, and to pay tribute; but even now

he continued to act in a thoroughly untrustworthy manner, and caused all

kinds of mischief to the Zenj.

In any case, the power of the Zenj was now (879) greater than ever. But

it was at this point that the tide really began to turn. Mowaffak’s

position had gradually grown stronger, and the death of Yakúb had given

him a free hand. He now no longer delayed to summon all his resources

for making an end of the black robber-scourge. In doing so he proceeded

with great deliberation and unwonted caution. He had learned wisdom at

last, from many failures of the imperial troops, which, in part, had

followed close on brilliant victories. He now knew that it was

impossible to get at these amphibians in the same way as enemies on firm

accessible soil are reached. His preparations for a decisive campaign

against the Zenj would require to be of a quite peculiar character, and

in the campaign itself it would be of supreme importance, along with

bravery, to exercise all caution. A great general with similar resources

at his command would certainly have annihilated the blacks much more

quickly than Mowaffak did; the latter in the campaign plays the part

rather of the prudent statesman who acts only with hesitation, does not

place much at stake, and strives towards his end slowly, if surely.

The task of expelling the Zenj from the northern territories near Wásit

was entrusted by Mowaffak, in the first instance, to his son Abul-Abbás

(afterwards Caliph Motadid), who was now but twenty-three years old. In

November or December 879 the troops and ships of the latter were

reviewed by his father near Bagdad. The fleet consisted of very diverse

kinds of craft, but all of them rowing vessels. The largest served

partly for transport, partly as floating fortresses; a smaller kind, of

which some are mentioned as carrying twenty, and others as carrying

forty rowers, seem chiefly to have been used for attack. The young

prince justified the confidence reposed in him. He gave battle

repeatedly with success, and, though operations had often to be

suspended, the Zenj were steadily compelled to give place. One of their

captains was taken and pardoned; this is the first instance of the

application of a new policy which was to gain over the officers and

soldiers of the rebel. This course, more astute than heroic, had great

success. In proportion as the situation of the negro chief grew serious,

his subordinates were more ready to desert him, and, instead of

continuing to endure the dangers and privations of a siege, to accept

from Mowaffak amnesty, honours, rewards. Care was taken to make the

deserters in their robes of honour conspicuous, so that the rebels might

be able to see them. Their prince, of course, did all he could on the

other side to check the falling away. Thus, we are told that he caused

“the son of the king of the Zenj” to be put to death, because he had

heard that he proposed to go over to the enemy. Of this real negro

prince we would gladly know more. The prisoners taken by the imperial

troops were, as a rule, killed. Abul-Abbás distinguished himself

personally by his bravery. In one of the battles twenty arrows were

found sticking in the coat of felt which he wore over his breastplate.

Almost a year passed before Mowaffak in person appeared with a great

army on the scene (Tuesday, 11th October 880). The first result of

consequence was the capture of the city of Manía, built by the Zenj not

very far from Wásit, when five thousand captive women and children were

restored to freedom. The liberation of great masses of women and

children becomes an occurrence of increasing frequency as one place

after another is taken from the possession of the negroes. At every

advance Mowaffak was very careful to secure his rearward communications,

and to make it impossible for the blacks to attack him from behind. This

rendered necessary, among other things, much river-engineering, making

and breaking of dams. The regent thereupon again left the campaign for a

time in the hands of his son, and marched towards Susiana (Friday, 6th

January 881), to clear that portion of the empire. This was quickly

done, and without much trouble, for the negro chief himself had given

orders to evacuate the territory which was not to be definitively held,

so as to concentrate his whole power. On their march back the Zenj

continued to loot some villages, although these had made their

submission to the chief. Several bands cut off from the main army asked

and obtained pardon. That honest Kurd Mohammed naturally made his peace

with Mowaffak without delay, and was received into favour. On Saturday,

18th February 881, Mowaffak again joined his son Abul Abbás and his

other son Hárún, whom he had sent on before with his army from Wásit

towards the south, and the united hosts advanced.

The negroes were now confined to their own proper territory in and

around Mokhtára. Before the attack on this place began, Mowaffak sent

once more a solemn summons to the rebel calling upon him to surrender,

and promising him a full pardon if he obeyed. It need not be said that

such a demand had no effect. Bad as the position of the Zenj chief

was,—and it grew worse every day,—he could not stoop to become a

pensioner of the Caliph. Moreover, it was at any moment possible that

troubles in Bagdad or Sámarrá, or the appearance of some dangerous rebel

in one of the provinces, might compel the persistent adversary to

abandon the siege and all that he had gained. Some of his officers were

less steadfast. The desertion of these to the regent, who received them

with open arms, began with his first approach, and went on repeating

itself to the end of the bloody tragedy. Many soldiers also went over.

Mowaffak so arranged that the negroes in his army tempted those of the

enemy over to his side. All so inclined were forthwith enrolled in his

ranks. Naturally, no one dreamed for a moment of considering the claims

of their former masters upon these slaves. In this way the negro chief

found many of his best forces gradually drawn away from himself and

augmenting the strength of the enemy; this they did less by their direct

fighting capacity than by their accurate acquaintance with the

localities and with the whole condition of things. To the cause of the

Zenj it was, moreover, highly prejudicial that their leader had to

become ever more mistrustful of his subordinates. In fact, several of

his best colleagues, in whom he had placed perfect confidence, abandoned

him, though others held by him to the death. The amnesty was extended

also to those Bedouins who should fall away from the Zenj. On the other

hand, a leader of the negroes, who had been made a prisoner, when it was

proved that he had treated women who had fallen into his hands with

singular atrocity, was put to a painful death. In other cases also,

cruel punishments were sometimes inflicted on prisoners.

The city of Mokhtára, the siege of which henceforward constitutes the

whole war, was protected, not only by water-courses and dams, but also

by a variety of fortifications properly so called. It even had catapults

upon its walls. During the course of the long siege new defensive works

of various kinds continued to be erected, and artificial inundations

were also resorted to. Nor was there any lack of boats, and still less

of men, though we may take it that the number of 300,000 fighting men

claimed for the negro leader is greatly exaggerated. The Zenj may very

well have outnumbered their assailants, whose strength is given at

50,000, at least at the beginning of the struggle; but the latter were,

on the whole, certainly much better equipped, better fed, and

continually recruited by newly arriving troops. Mowaffak, however, had

so little thought of taking Mokhtára by sudden attack, that in front of

the place, though judiciously separated from it by the breadth of the

river, he built for himself on the east bank of the Tigris a city-camp,

which he named after himself Mowaffakíya. The matter of supreme

importance was to cut off the supplies of the Zenj, and to secure his

own. In Mowaffakíya a lively trade sprang up: he even caused money to be

coined there. But the Zenj still showed themselves very troublesome

enemies, and occasionally captured transports that had been destined for

the imperial troops. It was not until a new fleet arrived from the

Persian coast that intercourse with the outer world was made almost

impossible for the negroes; and henceforward provisions could only be

introduced occasionally and by stealth. For the Bedouins, who had still

been venturesome enough to supply the Zenj with various kinds of food in

exchange for dates, Mowaffak established an easy and safe market in

Basra. Thus gradually the scarcity of food began to be keenly felt among

the blacks, and the supply of bread virtually ceased. Nevertheless, they

held out bravely; and in the numerous collisions which took place, as

our authorities make plain, notwithstanding their highly official

colouring, the imperialists had by no means always the best of it.

Towards the end of July 881[58] the troops succeeded in forcing their

way into Mokhtára, and had begun their work of destruction with fire and

sword, but the same evening they again abandoned their capture. The same

thing frequently recurred; moreover, the invading troops were more than

once again driven out by the Zenj. At a comparatively late stage of the

siege (end of 882) Mowaffak found himself under the necessity of again

removing his base, which he had recently advanced to the western bank of

the Tigris, back to the eastern, so troublesome had the Zenj proved

themselves to be. The main action was, moreover, more than once

interrupted; as, for example, from the end of summer 881 till October of

that year. In their assaults on the town the besiegers specially

directed their efforts to destruction of the defensive works, so that

several approaches lay open in a way that did not admit of their being

again closed; they also set themselves as much as possible to clear away

the obstacles—bridges, dams, chains—which the besieged had introduced

to prevent the entrance of great ships into the water-ways, and

especially into the main canal—the Nahr Abilhasíb. In these operations

the tide proved sometimes a help, sometimes a hindrance; it frequently

happened that the ebb would leave the vessels high and dry on the sand.

As the opposing parties were often quite near one another, separated

only, it might be, by narrow ditches, wounds were frequent. In addition

to the ordinary weapons of war, molten lead was hurled against the foe.

The besiegers had also with them “naphtha men,” who threw Greek fire at

the Zenj or their works. Fireships were also sometimes used against the

bridges. Occasionally the assailants made way far into the city; on

Monday, 10th December 882, they in this manner destroyed the building

which “the abominable ones called their mosque,” but which the Faithful

naturally regarded as nothing better than a synagogue of Satan. But in

this particular attack Mowaffak himself was seriously wounded with an

arrow, shot by a quondam Byzantine slave; and as he did not spare

himself, his wound grew alarmingly worse. Operations were on this

account suspended for a considerable time, and many became so filled

with fear that they quitted Mowaffakíya. And in the meanwhile an

untoward circumstance of another kind arose. The Caliph Motamid

manifested an inclination to free himself from the tutelage of his

brother, and (in the beginning of December 882) quitted Sámarrá, to take

refuge with Ibn Túlún, the vassal prince of Egypt. But the governor of

Bagdad, Ibn Kondáj, who held by Mowaffak, intercepted the Caliph and

brought him back to the residency (middle of February 883). For this

service Mowaffak loaded Ibn Kondáj with honours. The wretched Caliph had

even to submit so far as to cause Ibn Túlún, whom he had just been

regarding as his liberator, to be cursed from every pulpit as a rebel

against the ordinance of God; nay, his own son, designated to be his

successor (though afterwards compelled to surrender his right), had to

be the first solemnly to pronounce this curse. We can easily understand

how in these circumstances Mowaffak was pressingly urged to abandon his

camp for a while and betake himself to the centre of the empire; but he

continued steadfast in his task. What he had neither heroic courage nor

brilliant generalship to achieve, he effected by caution and

perseverance.

The Zenj leader utilised to the utmost the truce that had been thus

forced upon his assailants, to place his defensive works in as complete

repair as possible, or even to strengthen them still further. It is

certain, too, that he was adequately informed by his spies and scouts as

to the seriousness of Mowaffak’s then position, both personally and

politically, and he may well have cherished new hopes; but in February

883 he was again sorely pressed: his own palace was plundered and burnt,

and he himself exposed to great danger. In March and April the illness

of Mowaffak rendered necessary another cessation of the attack, but from

the end of April onwards the struggle was seldom intermitted for any

time. The rebel chief transferred the centre of his defence from the

west to the east side of the main canal, though without wholly

abandoning the former.

The desertions of his officers went on increasing. It is alleged that

even his own son opened negotiations with Mowaffak; these, however, we

may conjecture to have been quite hollow. But, among others, Shibl, a

former slave, one of his most prominent lieutenants, went over to

Mowaffak, and allowed himself forthwith to be sent directly against his

old comrades. To another of these people, Sharání, whose wicked deeds

had been many, there was at first an inclination to refuse pardon; but,

in order not to scare his accomplices, he too was at last accepted, and

received a rich reward for his treachery. The official account gives us

a touching scene, in which Mowaffak, shortly before the last decisive

struggle, solemnly admonishes the deserters to make good their evil

deeds by bravery and fidelity; and this, deeply moved, they promised to

do.

In the actual encounters the Zenj still continued to show great courage.

The imperialists were not now, it is true, invariably forced to give up

again in the evening the ground they had gained during the day; yet even

in the great battle of Tuesday, 21st May 883, in which the harem of the

negro chief, with more than a hundred women and children, had been

sacked, and Prince Abul-Abbás, in his advance, had burned great stores

of grain, the assailants found themselves at last so hard pressed by the

blacks that Mowaffak judged it advisable to withdraw them to his ships.

He did not yet feel himself strong enough to deliver the mortal blow.

But now new reinforcements were continually coming in, though indeed,

for the most part, these did nothing more than repair the continual

losses through battle and sickness. Among the new-comers were numerous

volunteers, who, from religious motives, entered upon the holy war

against the heretics. An event of very special importance was the

separation from his master of Lúlú, the commander in Northern Syria of

the forces of Ibn Túlún, the ruler of Egypt mentioned above; he entered

into negotiations with Mowaffak, of which the result was that with a

considerable army behind him he joined the latter on Thursday, 11th July

883. The preparations for a decisive assault were now complete;

transport ships for large masses of troops were in immediate readiness,

and the great waterways of the hostile territory were by this time so

entirely free of all obstacles as to be passable at all states of the

tide. Mowaffak is said to have brought more than 50,000 men into the

great battle of Monday, 5th August, while yet leaving a large number

behind in Mowaffakíya. After a severe struggle the whole city was taken.

The negro chief fled; but as the imperialists, instead of pursuing him

keenly, occupied themselves with plunder, and, by becoming scattered,

exposed themselves to the danger of surprise, a withdrawal was again in

the end found necessary, and Alí returned once more to the city. The

respite, however, was but short. The final assault was delivered on

Saturday, 11th August 883. From the first the advanced troops broke up

the Zenj. Their leader was separated from his companions; Sulaimán, son

of Jámi, along with others, was made prisoner. A section of the Zenj,

indeed, drove back the enemy once more, but this was of no avail; in a

little news was brought that the rebel chief was dead, and one of Lúlú’s

people almost immediately confirmed this intelligence by bringing in his

head. It is not certain how he met his death. Perhaps we may venture to

believe a statement[59] that he poisoned himself. According to another

story, he perished in flight. That he did not fall in battle is further

indicated by the circumstance that none of our authorities, with all

their fulness, speak of any combatant as having sought to obtain the

royal reward for slaying the arch-rebel. Death by his own hand seems the

most appropriate to the nature of the man; at the same time, I am free

to confess that we can form a tolerably vivid picture of him only if we

bring a good deal of fancy into play.

When Mowaffak saw the head of his enemy, he threw himself upon the

ground in an attitude of worship, full of thankfulness to God. The

example was followed by officers and troops. It would almost seem as if

without the energy of Lúlú the mortal struggle of the Zenj might have

been still further protracted. This is not indeed exactly what is said

by the history, written as it is entirely in the government sense, but

there is evidence for it in a couplet which the soldiers sang, to the

effect that—

“Beyond all doubt, say what you choose,

The victory was all Lúlú’s.”[60]

On this and the following days some thousands of Zenj surrendered

themselves, and were pardoned; it would have been a senseless thing to

have driven the last remnants of the enemy to desperation, especially

when they could be utilised as soldiers. Others, again, fared badly who

had fled into the desert, some dying of thirst, and some being made

slaves by the Bedouins. Yet a number of blacks still remained unsubdued,

and from the swampy thickets to the west of Basra, whither they had a

considerable time before been sent by the negro chief, continued to

carry on their robberies and murders. Mowaffak was on the point of

sending a division against them, when they, too, made their

submission.[61] When they showed themselves, their good condition struck

the beholders; they had not gone through the hardships of the long

siege.

The son of the rebel chief and five of his high commanders had fallen

alive into the hands of the victors. They were kept in prison in Wásit,

until one day the negroes there once more raised an insurrection, and by

acclamation chose the first-named as their chief. The prisoners were

then beheaded (885). The bowman who had hit Mowaffak was recognised far

away from the seat of war at Rámhormuz in Susiana, and brought to

Mowaffak, who handed him over to his son Abul-Abbás to be put to death.

Mowaffak remained for a considerable time in the city he had founded, to

bring matters into order. A general proclamation was issued, that all

who had fled through fear of the Zenj should return to their homes. Many

betook themselves to Mowaffakíya, but this city also had only an

ephemeral existence; even the geographers of the following century no

longer mention it. The great trading city of Basra, which once more rose

to prosperity, proved too powerful a rival for its neighbour.

Abul-Abbás arrived in Bagdad, the capital, with the head of the negro

leader displayed on a pole, on Saturday, 23rd November 883.

Thus ended one of the bloodiest and most destructive rebellions which

the history of Western Asia records. Its consequences must long have

continued to be felt, and it can hardly be doubted that the cities and

regions of the lower Tigris never entirely recovered from the injuries

which they at that time suffered.

Several contemporaries, among them former adherents of Alí, wrote the

story of this rebellion. Out of their writings, along with official

documents, Tabarí, himself a contemporary, incorporated in his great

Chronicle, a very comprehensive narrative, especially of the events of

the war. The well-known book of Mas‘údí supplies us with valuable

additions to our information; did we possess his greater works also, we

should doubtless know more as to the person of the negro chief and the

institutions of his State. Other writers supply us only with incidental

notices.

-----

[51] Enmity of this kind between two quarters or guilds is nothing

unusual in Arab towns.

[52] Properly Zeng, hence Zangebar (corrupted into Zanzibar).

[53] See above, p. 80.

[54] “God has bought from the faithful their life and their goods with

this price—that Paradise is to be their portion, and they are to fight,

slay, and be slain in the path of God,” and so on (súra 9, 112). In

accordance with this word “bought,” the Kharijites called themselves by

preference “sellers” (_Shurát_); for heaven as their price they gave God

their souls.

[55] An Arab rebel at that time mockingly said of Caliph Mámún that he

was not able to catch “four hundred frogs” that were within arm’s-length

of him.

[56] See above, p. 116, note.

[57] See below, p. 191.

[58] The very precise details of this war occasionally include notices

of meteorological facts. In the beginning of December 880 the troops (in

about 30° 30′ N. lat. and near sea level) suffered in violent rain from

bitter cold. In December 883 so thick a fog prevailed that a man could

hardly distinguish his neighbour in the ranks.

[59] By Hamza Isfahání (Leyden MS.; not in the printed text).

[60] Some years later Mowaffak caused Lúlú to be thrown into prison in

order to obtain possession of his great wealth—wealth, we may be sure,

which had not been quite innocently gained.

[61] The Zenj who were received into the service of the Caliph after the

death of their leader are described in an original source, dating from

the period of his successor, as pure barbarians, who spoke no Arabic,

and ate carrion, and even human flesh.

VI.

YAKÚB THE COPPERSMITH, AND HIS DYNASTY.

IN eastern Irán lies the marshy district of lake Hámún, formed by waters

draining from the east and north. The area of water varies greatly

according to the season, as the streams rise and fall. These, and

notably the Hélmend, which in the lower part of its course is broken up

into a number of natural and artificial channels, render a great part of

the hot low-lying plain extremely fertile, but the rest of the country

is a dreary waste. The plain was anciently called, from the lake,

Zaranka (“lakeland”), a designation preserved down to the Middle Ages in

the name of the chief town Zereng. From the occupation of the region in

the second century B.C. by the Sacæ, barbarians from the north, it was

called Sakastán (“land of the Sacæ”), more recent forms of the word

being Segistán (Arabic, Sejistân) or Sístán. The low country, which is

notorious for its serpents, is almost surrounded by desert; on the east

it borders upon Zábulistán,[62] which geographically belongs to the

Afghan highlands, and in whole or part often fell under the same

government with them, and was included under their name. Sístán was the

home of the most heroic parts of the Iránian legends, the stories of

Rostam the Strong and his race, of which no trace is to be found in the

ancient sacred books. The legend may be taken as reflecting the brave

character of the inhabitants, who were plainly separated by strongly

marked distinctions from the other Iránians.

Sístán had been conquered at a comparatively early period by the Arabs,

but the country was difficult of access, and long remained an insecure

possession. Islam soon made great progress in the plain, but among the

mountains to the east the new-comers only slowly established a footing.

And even in Sístán proper the stubborn spirit of the natives inclined

them to adhere rather to the Kharijites[63] than to the State Church.

The governors of the first Abbásids had much difficulty with these

Independents. The family of Táhir also, which from the days of Caliph

Mámún had held the governorship of Khorásán, and of Sístán, which was

regarded as an appendage, was unable to put down the Kharijites here,

who steadily became more unruly as the power of the Táhirids waned. But

in Sístán, as in other desert lands, Kharijite was often little more

than a polite name for bandit. We thus understand how it was that, in

the midst of this vigorous population, as the power of the State

dwindled, volunteer bands were formed for defence against the

Kharijites. Like their adversaries they, of course, declared that they

were fighting solely for God; with what truth, we need not pause to

discuss. At the head of a band of such volunteers one of the name of

Dirhem succeeded in seizing Zereng, the chief town, and driving out the

Táhirid prefect. Among his people was a certain Yakúb, son of Laith, who

had formerly followed the trade of a coppersmith—a prosperous industry

in Sístán,[64] whence the surname of “coppersmith” (Saffár) borne by

himself and his successors. He, and his equally warlike brothers,

belonged to the little town of Karmín, a day’s journey to the east of

Zereng, in the direction of the notable city of Bust, the ruins of which

are still visible. Near his birthplace was, and still is, shown the

stable of Rostam’s gigantic war-horse.[65] It is possible that the

heroic legend had its influence upon him. Yakúb had once before laid

down the hammer for the sword. He had fought under Sálih of Bust (852),

who had made himself master of Sístán, or at least of a part of Sístán,

for a time, but afterwards had been overcome by Táhir, a grandson of the

founder of the Táhirid dynasty. Subsequently Yakúb had passed through

other adventures. Under Dirhem, his boldness and ability brought him to

the front. Thus he killed in single combat a dreaded captain of the

Kharijites named Ammán. In this way he rose to such repute among his

fellows that Dirhem found it expedient to set out on pilgrimage to

Mecca, and afterwards to settle in Bagdad, leaving the leadership to

Yakúb.[66] Yakúb having thus risen to a position of command, doubtless

assumed the title of Emír, which was vague enough to mean either a

general or a local captain, but could also denote a powerful prince by

whom even the Caliph was recognised as a merely nominal suzerain. He

gradually became ruler of his native land, which always continued to be

the central State and the place of refuge of himself and family. His

energetic suppression of the robbers, whose villages he destroyed, and

the security he obtained for traffic, brought him, it would seem, into

high credit, and in any case the brave Sístánese felt themselves drawn

to this countryman of theirs who had proved himself a born ruler.

Accordingly, the kingdom founded by him is generally designated as that

of the Sístánese. That Yakúb at every Friday service caused prayer to be

offered, in the first instance, for the Caliph as the general commander

of all the faithful, need hardly be said. A theoretical dependence such

as this, which in fact was rendered necessary by his protest against the

Kharijite independence, involved no real restriction of his power, but

at most made it necessary to send money and presents more or less

regularly to court. At the outset he seems to have recognised, also, the

Táhirid Mohammed as overlord. In those times, indeed, it often happened

that a lawful governor or vassal and a usurper made appeal to the same

lord, and that in that case the usurper, if victorious, was also

recognised by the overlord as his faithful subject.[67] The date of

these occurrences was about 860.

As early as 867 Yakúb crossed the frontier of his native land, and after

hard fighting took from Mohammed’s representative Herát, which has often

been an object of struggle at many different times, and also Púsheng,

ten hours from Herát. For the time he contented himself with this

portion of Khorásán; the house of Táhir was still too powerful for him.

He brought back with him as prisoners to Sístán some members of that

family, restoring to them their freedom, however, when that was demanded

by Caliph Motazz. With this Caliph he had already had frequent dealings,

sending him magnificent presents, mostly the result of plunder gained in

his struggles with the heathen of the East. He was making suit for the

governorship of Kermán, which lay to the west of Sístán; but

simultaneously a similar application was being made by Alí, son of

Husain, who was at that time powerful in Persis (Párs). Kermán is, in

fact, essentially a mere appendage of Párs. The Caliph, or rather the

Táhirid Mohammed, who had control of the chief towns, Bagdad and

Sámarrá, sent a commission to both applicants, in the hope that they

would attack and destroy one another. Alí’s general, Tank, promptly

seized the capital of Kermán before Yakúb was able to cover the

exceedingly arduous desert journey from Sístán. The coppersmith lay

encamped for a month or two a day’s journey from the capital; he then

retired a little, but kept himself accurately informed as to his

adversary. When Tauk was now off his guard, Yakúb made a forced march

and fell upon him, taking him prisoner (869). In the camp there were

found, along with many other valuables, a chest full of necklaces and

bracelets intended as rewards of bravery, and another with chains and

halters for prisoners. Yakúb decorated his own braves with the contents

of the one, and appropriated those of the other to his captives, the

heaviest chains being reserved for Tauk himself. When these were being

placed upon Tauk, it appeared that shortly before, “on account of the

heat,” he had had a vein opened. The conqueror made this the occasion of

a lecture to the effect that in his luxury he might have thought twice

before venturing upon a contest with one who for two months had lain on

no bed, had never put off his shoes, and had lived on the hard bread

which he had carried while marching in these shoes.[68]

Yakúb immediately pressed forward against Párs, which was much more

valuable than Kermán, and indeed one of the richest lands in all the

Caliph’s dominions. It was in vain that Alí and the leading men of

Shíráz, the capital, wrote to represent to him that though his

contendings against heretics had been very meritorious, he would fall

into the greatest crime if he were to force his way into that country

and shed blood without the Caliph’s authority. Alí accordingly, now

reinforced by the fugitives from the vanquished army, took up on the

river Kur (Kyros), not far from the capital, a strong position,

accessible only by a narrow passage between rock and river to one rider

at a time. Yakúb halted his followers some distance off from the river

while he himself galloped forward, a fifteen-foot lance in his hand, to

reconnoitre. The enemy contemptuously shouted: “We shall soon send you

back to your pot and kettle tinkering.” But he had discovered a passable

place, and now caused his horsemen, leaving all encumbrances behind, to

enter the rapid stream; the enemy was taken in flank, and fled without

resistance. An eye-witness says that Yakúb’s horsemen in this movement

followed a large dog which he had caused to be thrown into the river;

perhaps his object was by this means to determine the force and set of

the current. Alí himself was taken prisoner in this action (Thursday,

26th April 869). On the following night, Shíráz was captured. The

inhabitants had expected the whole town to be pillaged, but Yakúb seized

nothing save the public treasure and the estate of Alí and his

officials. Both Alí and Tauk, who had personally offended him, he

compelled, by severe maltreatment, to disclose where their treasures

were. By 14th May he had again left Shíráz, and set out with booty and

captives for Sístán. To the Caliph he sent rich presents, and in

addition, we may be certain, the assurance of his utmost loyalty. But

for the time it had only been a successful robber’s raid. He was not yet

in a position so much as to think of taking permanent possession of

Párs, which is broken up by very high mountains and other natural

obstacles, and abounded in fortresses. On the other hand, he remained

master, though not quite completely, of Kermán. The wild and never

wholly subjugated inhabitants of the lofty, snow-clad mountain range of

Páriz, which intersects the country in a general direction from

north-west to south-east, were only gradually forced to submit by

himself and his successors.

Yakúb meanwhile enlarged his dominions by conquests in the mountainous

region to the east, where it would seem that he had already fought much.

He, as well as his successors, made many conquests and plundering raids

in these lands, of which, unfortunately, we possess almost no details.

In any case they contributed much to the gradual ascendency of Islam in

the country now called Afghanistan. In March 871 an embassy came from

him to the Caliph Motamid, bringing idols which he had taken in Cabul or

in that neighbourhood. Trophies of this kind from the lands of the

unbeliever had long ceased to be seen in the capital of Islam. The bold

coppersmith thus figured in the eyes of all the world as a champion of

the faith. But his embassy had, of course, very practical objects as

well; it was to negotiate as to the lands the Caliph would assign as

provinces to his faithful Yakúb. The clever regent Mowaffak for his part

was anxious, on the one hand, to strengthen the praiseworthy zeal of

Yakúb for conquest at the expense of heathens and of distant Moslems,

and, on the other, to keep him well away from his own neighbourhood.

When Yakúb was again setting out for an invasion of Párs, where at that

time, after all sorts of complications, Mohammed, the son of Wásil, had

gained the upper hand, and was also recognised as governor by the

Caliph, there accordingly came to him a letter which, in addition to

Sístán and Kermán, made him lord of Balkh (Bactria) and other eastern

countries as far as India. By this means the regent got him away from

Párs, left him in possession of what he already had, and pointed him to

the lordship over a number of remote regions which he would first have

to conquer. Whether he expected Yakúb to make regular payment of the

stipulated tribute for these fiefs may be left a question.

Yakúb seems soon to have taken possession of Balkh. We may imagine that

the rude warrior-chief was not too gentle in his treatment of his new

subjects in this doubtful frontier territory, and that he made the most

of them in the way of tribute. At least his name, as well as that of his

successor, were long held in unsavoury memory among the Bactrians, and

we know that oppressive taxes were inflicted on other regions which for

a longer or shorter time came under his sway. We have no evidence that

he or his successor, outside of Sístán and Kermán, troubled themselves

at all about the welfare of their subjects, or even could have done so;

but it is beyond doubt that they were very energetic in the matter of

tribute. Then, as at all periods of Eastern history, many potentates

have distinguished themselves in this line. Nothing else was expected of

a military overlord. But that more than a century later the name of

Sístánese (Segzí) had evil associations may be taken as an indication

that Yakúb and his brother pressed very hardly on their subjects.

Meanwhile the power of the Táhirid Mohammed went on steadily decaying

even in Khorásán. The Alid Hasin, son of Zaid, lord of Tabaristán,[69]

wrested from him the borderland of Gurgán (Hyrcania, to the south-east

of the Caspian Sea). Other portions of Khorásán became the prey of

various petty lords. This gave the coppersmith courage to aim at the

entire possession of the vast country, some eastern portions of which

were already in his hands. We see that he by no means confined himself

within the limits of the Caliph’s grant. A pretext, if pretext were

needed, was supplied by Mohammed. Abdalláh had rebelled against Yakúb in

Sístán, and afterwards fled to Khorásán; after some negotiations he was

now induced by Mohammed, instead of seizing upon the capital Níshábúr,

to take possession, under him, of certain districts which belonged to

the territory of Yakúb. The coppersmith, who had already entered into

all sorts of relations with disaffected grandees of Khorásán,

accordingly set out from Sístán, whither it was his wont to retreat from

time to time, and marched by way of Herát upon Níshábúr. Mohammed sent

an embassy to meet him, but in vain. On Sunday, 2nd August 873, Yakúb

entered the great and flourishing city of the Táhirids without a blow

being struck. Mohammed either could not, or would not, make his escape.

He is reported to have thought that he could make a personal impression

on the victor, and to have received him with loud reproaches; but Yakúb

simply put him into prison with all his kinsfolk, one hundred and sixty

males. The continuous rule in Khorásán of the house of Táhir thus came

to an end after having subsisted for fifty years. Yakúb now promptly

sent an embassy to the Caliph to represent to him that he had set out

only upon the request of the Khorásánians, because Mohammed’s weak rule

had allowed all sorts of disorders to spring up, and that the

inhabitants of Níshábúr had come a ten hours’ journey to meet him, to

deliver their city into his hands. In token of his profound attachment

he sent the head of a Kharijite captain, who in the neighbourhood of

Herát had dared for thirty years to call himself “Commander of the

Faithful.”[70] The embassy was honourably received by the Caliph in

solemn audience, but received from him emphatic orders to their master

that he must quit Khorásán forthwith if he did not wish to be regarded

as a rebel. Some of his people, in fact, who were in Bagdad at the time,

were thrown into prison. Yakúb, however, was not to be duped, but set

about establishing himself as firmly as he could in possession of the

country. As Abdalláh his opponent, after the fall of Mohammed, had taken

refuge with the Alid rulers of Tabaristán, who refused to deliver him

up, Yakúb even resolved to invade that country. On the way he was met by

a man who had risen to a kind of religious-political leadership, and who

offered to accompany him on the expedition against the heretical Alids.

But Yakúb could not accept the services of an independent ally; on the

contrary, he put the volunteer in chains. We do not know the details

well enough to say for certain that Yakúb’s conduct was treacherous, but

the suspicion of treachery is grave both in this case and in that of the

imprisonment of the Táhirid. Yakúb turned the difficult mountain country

to the east by keeping to the sea coast. The old fortifications which

barred the access of the northern nomads can hardly have offered a

serious obstacle. Soon he arrived in the immediate neighbourhood of

Sárí, on the plain bordering the southern shore of the Caspian. Here

Hasan met him, but was defeated (Monday, 17th May 874), and fled

westwards to the mountains of Dílem.[71] Yakúb occupied the two chief

towns, Sárí and Amol, and forthwith levied on both a whole year’s taxes;

he well knew that it would be impossible for him to hold them

permanently. He then set out in pursuit of the fugitive, but in the high

and densely-wooded mountains he fell into great danger, especially as it

rained for weeks. The moist climate of the northern side of these

mountains is as notorious as the drought that characterises the rest of

Irán, and consequently the country is covered with a most luxuriant

vegetation. Yakúb found himself compelled to desist from the pursuit if

he was not to court annihilation in some one of the narrow passes. He

had already lost the greater part of his baggage and of his beasts of

burden, besides many soldiers. Had he been read in history he might have

consoled himself with the reflection that he had got off more easily

than many another Persian or Arab general before him who had penetrated

into these dangerous highlands. Returned from Tabaristán, Yakúb directed

his march towards Rai,[72] where, as he had learned, Abdalláh had now

taken shelter with the governor. The latter, to be rid of the dreaded

warrior, handed over the fugitive. Yakúb killed Abdalláh, and retraced

his steps; perhaps he thought the time had not quite arrived for

conquests in Media. Hasan came back to his own country, and chastised

with extreme severity those who (probably out of religious antipathy to

Shíitism) had taken Yakúb’s side. During the somewhat lengthened period

of Yakúb’s stay in Tabaristán, the Táhirid Husain, a brother of the

captive Mohammed, with 2000 Turks, led by the ruler of Khárizm (Khíva),

had made himself master of southern Merv (River Merv, or Mervi-Rúd); but

we do not know whether he held his ground there for any time. On the

whole, at least, Yakúb retained his grasp of Khorásán, in spite of the

great losses in his last campaign. Yakúb, immediately after his first

success at Sárí, had sent a most deferential account of the defeat of

the heretics to the Commander of all true Believers, and had announced

to the Abbásid the joyful news that he now had in his power sixty

members of the family of Alí. But this did not procure for him pardon

for his encroachments. In November or December of the same year (874)

the Caliph, through Obaidalláh, an uncle of Mohammed,[73] caused the

Mecca pilgrims from the north-east of the empire, who were at that time

in Bagdad on their return journey, to be called together to hear a

document in which Yakúb was declared a usurper, and his seizure of the

lawful governor a grievous crime. Such a communication was the best

means of diffusing a knowledge of the Caliph’s will in those remote

regions, especially as the pilgrims in their religious excitement must

have been in a more than usually receptive mood for the words of the

head of all believers. Thirty copies of this writing were sent into the

various countries.

At this time Abdalláh, son of Wáthik, and thus a full cousin of the

reigning Caliph Motamid, and of the regent Mowaffak, died in Yakúb’s

camp. Unfortunately, we learn nothing more than the bare fact. Perhaps

this prince had betaken himself to the coppersmith, that with his help

he might gain the throne of his father and of his brother (Mohtadí), and

had been put out of the way in their interest; but other explanations of

the fact are conceivable.

Whether the solemn repudiation of himself in the presence of his

subjects, and the consequent division of Khorásán among the various

governors by letters of the Caliph, had proved more than Yakúb could

bear, or whether the southern lands had offered a temptation to his love

of conquest more than he could resist, we cannot tell; be this as it

may, he now once more directed his energies against Párs, leaving his

brothers Amr and Alí along with others to maintain his rights in

Khorásán.

Here it may be appropriate to ask whence it was that Yakúb obtained the

large bodies of troops required for his campaigns, which often entailed

heavy losses, as well as for the occupation of the conquered lands. By

levies he can at most have raised only a small number of men. Perhaps

also, after the custom at that time, he bought sturdy Turkish boys

(Mamlúks),[74] and trained them as warriors; but large masses of men

could hardly be procured from this source. The bulk of his armies

appears to have consisted of mercenaries. The volunteer, we are told,

who offered for Yakúb’s service, if he was found suitable, had to give

up his whole property; this was sold, and the amount set down to his

credit; when he retired, it was returned to him. Obviously we are to

understand that the money was retained if he left the service before the

expiry of his time, or contrary to the conditions; it was caution-money.

Pay and commissariat were adequate, and we cannot doubt that the former

was punctually received. In the last resort the expense fell upon the

conquered enemies, and still more upon the subject provinces. Yakúb had

always a full military chest; mention is often made both of his

treasures and of those of his successor. His troops, all of them

mounted, and very mixed in their character, he kept together with an

iron discipline, about which many stories were current. Thus an officer

on one occasion, we are told, who was engaged in a religious ablution at

the moment when the order to march was given, did not venture to take

time to dress, but put his breastplate upon his naked body. On the other

hand, he won his soldiers by his open-handedness; at all events, he

possessed the secret of all great _condottieri_, that of creating in his

troops a strong attachment to his person. One element in his success may

have been that though he was vastly their superior in ability, he was

little so in culture. The story was told of this zealous defender of the

faith, that on one occasion he had betrayed the haziest ideas about

Caliph Othmán,—which is very much as if a good Christian were to have

heard nothing about the Apostle John. His personal bravery also, which

in one of his earlier battles had left its mark in a great scar slanting

right across his face, must have further endeared him to his soldiers.

From his best troops he had picked two divisions of Guards, the one of

which, one thousand men strong, bore golden, the other silvern, maces on

parade.

In the height of summer 875, Yakúb entered Párs. Mohammed, son of Wásil,

hastened up from Susiana, sought to throw him off the scent by

negotiations, kept back his messengers, and then pressed forward with

all speed so as to surprise him. But as-Saffár was duly informed of his

movements, fell upon his assailant when exhausted by heat and thirst,

and at once put him to flight (August or September). The great treasure

of the enemy fell into his hand. It is not to be supposed that the whole

country forthwith became his without dispute; but he nevertheless ruled

as lord of Párs, and among other things severely punished a tribe of

Kurds who had zealously supported the son of Wásil. He did not, however,

stay long, but pressed westwards to Susiana. In October he was already

at Rámhormuz in the low plain of Susiana, in dangerous proximity to the

Tigris. The central Government was in the greatest alarm, for, besides

being himself a formidable enemy, Yakúb could cut the line of attack

upon the negro rebels, who had brought the empire into great

straits.[75] Those of Yakúb’s people who had been thrown into prison

were accordingly set free with promptitude, and an honourable embassy

was sent to him. As he appeared disposed to treat, Mowaffak called

together the eastern merchants then in Bagdad, and told them that Yakúb

had been named governor of Khorásán, Tabaristán, Gurgán, Rai, and Párs,

as well as military governor of Bagdad—thus conceding to him an extent

of power such as Táhir himself had hardly wielded. A new embassy, which

included his old superior Dirhem, carried to Yakúb the Caliph’s letter

with the announcement. But the powerful general knew what weight to give

to offers of this kind. His feelings of respect for the imperial

Government were long exhausted; he had no scruples about coming to a

complete breach with it. He accordingly replied that he would make his

decision in Bagdad itself. Certain Arabic verses are put into his mouth,

in which, amongst other things, he says that he possesses Khorásán and

Párs already, and that he does not despair of winning Irák also.[76] The

man who could hardly speak a little Arabic, and who certainly was not

able to use literary Arabic according to the rules of grammar, metre,

and style, cannot possibly have made these verses himself; but they well

express what his attitude was in the circumstances. He continued,

doubtless, formally to acknowledge the Caliph as his overlord. Some

years later, a vassal of his undeceived the Zenj, with whom he had

entered into relations, by offering public prayers, in the first place,

for the Caliph; in the second, for Yakúb. If as-Saffár had conquered, he

would perhaps have retained Motamid, but hardly his vigorous and able

brother Mowaffak. For it is rather improbable, though not altogether

inconceivable, that Mowaffak was in collusion with Yakúb, as was

suspected by the Caliph’s “freedmen,” the Turkish generals, to whom the

thought that the Sístánese might be bringing their own hateful power to

an end must have been very unwelcome. Yakúb, then, continued to advance,

occupying Wásit on the Tigris, and marching on Bagdad. Motamid now fell

back upon his last resource; he assumed the mantle of the Prophet, and

with the Prophet’s staff in his hand, took command of the holy war

against the godless rebel. He set out with a great army from Sámarrá,

but himself kept somewhat to the rear as the two armies approached one

another, some fifty miles below Bagdad, Mowaffak took the command in

chief. Yakúb’s army was much the smaller; and, moreover, an artificial

inundation hampered his horsemen in their movements. The battle was

keen. An attack upon his camp, made from the Tigris, and the arrival

towards evening of powerful reinforcements for the imperial army, at

last compelled as-Saffár, who had fought bravely and received three

arrow wounds, to yield (Palm Sunday, 8th April 876). With the camp, rich

booty fell to the victors. What was particularly unpleasant to Yakúb,

the Táhirid Mohammed, whom he carried about with him in chains, made his

escape. The Caliph personally removed the chains, and named him again

military governor of Bagdad on the spot. This was the first great defeat

sustained by the veteran warrior on the field (for in Tabaristán he had

been compelled to yield to the forces of nature). The victorious enemy

did not venture to pursue Yakúb, who sulkily withdrew to Gundíshábúr,

between Shúshter and Susa, quite close to Babylonia. His wide dominion

was now in a somewhat precarious state. He could still be sure of Sístán

and Kermán; but in Khorásán his rule had long had to contend with great

difficulties, caused partly by the imperial Government, and partly by

all kinds of local chiefs; the political state of Khorásán at that time,

as often before and since, must have been most perplexed. With the

Caliph’s sanction, Párs had again been wrested from the “cursed” Yakúb

by Wásil’s son, who, however, was beaten by a general of as-Saffár

(876-7), and himself was made a prisoner, and was carried to the citadel

of Bam, in Kermán, where a number of other state prisoners were already

languishing.[77]

During this period Yakúb himself was at least once in Párs, where also

coins were minted in his name;[78] but for the most part he resided in

Susiana, large portions of which he held directly, while others were

ruled through his generals. Other potentates also, with varying

fidelity, stood to him in the relation of vassals. He sent an expedition

even into the highlands on the north about the sources of the river

Kerkhá; it brought back one of the chiefs of the region as a prisoner

(877-8). Other portions of Susiana were, at times at least, occupied by

troops of the Caliph or of the Zenj. The proposals of the negro leader

for a formal alliance against the common enemy were brusquely rejected

by Yakúb, who would have nothing to do with unbelievers. Such an

alliance might certainly have been very disastrous for the empire. His

troops came even into serious collisions with those of the Zenj, but

ultimately the community of interests made itself felt, and the

territory of each was tacitly recognised, and mutual injuries ceased to

be inflicted. In September 878 Mowallad,[79] a prominent general of the

Caliph, came over to Yakúb as a fugitive, and was received, we may be

sure, with open arms. The latter, however, still hesitated to make the

decisive advance. He had learned to respect Mowaffak’s ability and

power. But still less did Mowaffak venture to attack the redoubtable

hero, especially as the Zenj were still on his hands. Indeed, he made

one more attempt to come to a good understanding with him. His

messenger, it is related, found as-Saffár sick. When he had delivered

his master’s proposals, he was bidden take back the answer that Yakúb

was ill; should he die then they had peace from one another, but should

he recover the sword would decide, either until Yakúb had wiped out the

defeat he had sustained, or until, all his empire lost, he was compelled

to return to the coarse bread and onions which had been the food of his

youth. Inflexible towards his enemies, he was equally intractable with

his physicians. His disease was colic; he refused to take their

remedies, and died on Wednesday the 5th June 879, at Gundíshábúr. His

grave was afterwards shown here, but all traces of it have doubtless

disappeared with the complete desolation of the city.

Yakúb was a warrior of iron strength, and certainly also of iron

hardness. His enemy, Hasan (with allusion, we suppose, to his former

trade), called him “the anvil.” He was seldom seen to smile. His

successes, in no small degree, were due to the fact that he formed all

his plans by himself, and directed their execution personally as far as

might be. His main recreation consisted in training boys in the

exercises of war. Even when ruler of extensive territories he adhered to

the very simplest style of living, probably more from mere habit than,

as he himself put it, for the sake of good example. In his tent he slept

upon his shield. The dishes set before himself and his attendants, at a

time when the art of cookery was highly developed, corresponded to those

which would appear at the table of a tolerably well-to-do

handicraftsman: mutton, rice, a sweet pottage, and a dish of dates and

cream.[80] Yakúb had no attendants in his tent; but close beside him he

always had a number of Mamlúks, who were required to be in readiness at

any moment to execute their master’s orders. No traits of gentleness are

related of Yakúb, but neither also of any special cruelty, for, judged

by the manners of the time, his maltreatment of Alí and Tauk can hardly

be so construed. Fearful atrocities in war were then mere matters of

course. Yakúb’s cunning is often celebrated; without it he certainly

would never have succeeded even so far as to become a captain of

volunteers in Sístán. This subtlety finds its expression in his

diplomatic dealings with the Caliph and other authorities. As already

said, there is ground for the suspicion that it sometimes made him

treacherous and disloyal to his word; but it is to be noted that our

authorities, though they mainly reflect the hostile opinion of

government circles in Bagdad, make no point of this; in that age, to be

sure, treachery was too common to excite much remark. The circumstances

of the time, and still more, by much, the whole character of the

warrior-chief himself, explain why it was that he established no

enduring kingdom. We meet with no indication that he combined any higher

ends with his love of conquest. Certainly he never had the least idea of

binding together, in any organic way, the various countries which, one

after another, fell under his power, or even of instituting an efficient

administration. Some buildings he reared, but he hardly devised any

far-reaching measures for the common benefit; and, on the other hand, he

certainly taxed his subjects very grievously. A more ideal intellect

would surely have found more efficacious means to prevent the conquered

countries from falling into other hands, or at least threatening to do

so, as soon as his back was turned. And yet the historian cannot

withhold his respect from this powerful personality who, from being a

common craftsman in a remote district, raised himself to the position of

a great prince, formidable at once to the heathen in Afghanistan and to

the Caliph in his palace.

He was succeeded by his brother Amr, who is said to have been in his

youth an ass-driver, or, by way of variety, a mason, but as early at

least as his first attempts in Khorásán, and probably even at an earlier

date, had been a trusty helper of Yakúb. Newly come to power, Amr was

naturally indisposed to stake everything on a war with the Caliph, and

forthwith he declared himself the obedient servant of the Commander of

the Faithful. Mowaffak for his part was delighted to be rid of his worst

enemy, and confirmed to Amr all he had offered to Yakúb. The district of

Ispahán was also included in his kingdom, which thus towards the east

and north extended considerably beyond, though on the north-west and

west it in some places fell short of, the limits of modern Persia; but

at that time those lands were much more populous and prosperous than

they are to-day. In addition to this realm, he held the dignity of

military governor of Bagdad and Sámarrá. Amr could not discharge this

office personally; he accordingly, as the lords of Khorásán belonging to

the house of Táhir had been wont to do, named a deputy, a Táhirid to

boot, Obaidalláh, who in autumn 879 was solemnly installed by Mowaffak

himself. It is to be presumed that Obaidalláh was on bad terms with his

nephew Mohammed, whom Yakúb had dethroned. It even fell to Amr to

appoint the governor of the holy cities Mecca and Medina. But

unfortunately for him, it was only in a few portions of this great

kingdom that Amr’s direct or indirect authority was at all sure.

Khorásán in particular, in many respects the most important country of

them all, was ready to slip from his grasp. Here a prominent part was

played by Khujastání, a man who had at first insinuated himself into the

confidence of Yakúb, and afterwards had driven out his brother Alí, and

gained much ground partly on the pretext of winning back for the

Táhirids the territory which hereditarily belonged to them. Amr hastened

to Khorásán, where he had fought many a battle before, but was defeated

by Khujastání (Thursday, 7th July 880), who took from him Níshábúr the

capital, and slew his adherents. Amr went back to Sístán, but with no

intention of giving up Khorásán. He might reckon with confidence that

Khujastání also would have enemies enough. In Bagdad he made the

complaint that the latter had been urged on by the Táhirid Mohammed. In

point of fact, Khujastání and Mohammed’s brother Husain, already

mentioned, who had joined him, did retain the public prayer for

Mohammed; and indeed he was in a certain respect the lawful ruler of the

country, and much sympathy was there felt for the dynasty, which seems,

on the whole, to have governed well. Mowaffak who, as long as the Zenj

were still unsubdued, had to keep Amr in good humour, found himself

compelled, in order to oblige the latter, to imprison Mohammed and some

of his kinsmen. In Mecca, also, Amr asserted his dignity. During the

pilgrim festival in July 881, it came almost to an open fight for the

precedence, in the holiest mosque of all Islam, between the

representatives of Amr and of the Túlúnid ruler of Egypt. Bloodshed was

prevented only by the skilful conduct of the Abbásid prince, who had the

management of the whole festival. His black freedmen had taken sides for

Amr, probably more out of hatred against the Egyptians than from love of

the Sístánese.

In 881-2 Amr’s governor in Párs revolted. Amr, however, promptly entered

the country, defeated the rebel, took possession of Istakhr

(Persepolis), once the capital, and gave it up to plunder. The rebel was

taken prisoner in his flight. Amr now remained for some time in Shíráz,

the capital. He strengthened his rule in Párs more than his predecessor

had done. Thus, he succeeded in subduing the Arab family which held the

eastern portion of the hot coast-land. To accomplish this required

indeed two years’ severe exertion, and it was at last brought about only

with the help of a member of the same family.[81] Amr extracted large

sums of money from the lord of Ispahán, and out of these he made

handsome presents to the Caliph. He seems once more to have pretty well

become master of Khorásán also, especially after the assassination of

Khujastání by one of his servants (June-July 882).

He continued to be on good terms with Mowaffak, at whose wish he

imprisoned the Kurd Mohammed,[82] son of Obaidalláh, a thoroughly

untrustworthy person, who had even on occasions been in treaty with the

Zenj. But after the total suppression of the negro rebellion (autumn

883), and after the effects of the exertions it had required had been

partially recovered from, the aspect of matters changed. Mowaffak hoped

to be able to restore the power of the central government in other parts

of the empire also, and especially in Párs. We must assume that he, at

least for form’s sake, negotiated with Amr, but that the latter rejected

every concession. Only thus can we explain the unusually abrupt

character of the action taken against him. On 25th March 885, the Caliph

Motamid caused the pilgrims from Khorásán, who were in Bagdad on their

way to Mecca, to be called together and personally informed that Amr was

deposed from the governorship of Khorásán, and Mohammed the Táhirid

restored to his post. He then anathematised the former in their

presence, and gave orders that he should be cursed from every pulpit.

The deposition applied also, of course, to all the other dominions of

as-Saffár. To give effect to these orders was not easy. In the case of

the remoter provinces, all that could be done for the time was to detach

the people from their lord in the manner indicated. But in the nearer

Párs it was possible to take more vigorous measures. As early as the

middle of February 885, an army set out from Wásit for that province

against Amr. Unfortunately, we know very little about the course of this

war. The ruler of Ispahán inflicted on Amr (to whom he had shortly

before been tributary) a severe defeat, and plundered his entire camp

(probably in August 886). In August 887 Mowaffak himself set out for

Párs. Amr despatched several divisions against him; but as the general

in command of the vanguard went over to the enemy, he was compelled to

evacuate the province. The regent followed him to Kermán; his plan no

doubt was to track him to his native seat. Amr withdrew from Kermán also

into Sístán; during this retreat his son Mohammed died. But Mowaffak was

not in a condition to occupy Kermán even, which was in great part a

desert, and the citadels of which were, we may suppose, mainly in the

hands of Amr’s people; to press on through the frightful wilderness to

Sístán was not for a moment to be thought of. Nature had set insuperable

limits to the enterprise.

Here begins a course of shifting politics, in which only a few of the

leading movements are known to us. Mowaffak must have recognised that he

was not yet in a position to subdue as-Saffár, and that it was expedient

to come to terms with him. In May or June 889, accordingly, the post of

military governor of Bagdad was again conferred upon Amr, and his name

inscribed on the standards, lances, and shields in the government office

“on the bridge.” Some weeks later Amr again appointed Obaidalláh his

deputy in this post. This presupposes that a peace had been previously

concluded, in which he had received back all, or nearly all, his

provinces. That he continued to be ruler of Párs is attested by a series

of his coins, extending from 888 or 889 to 898 or 899, better than by

any writings of the historians. But as early as February 890 he was

again deprived of his dignity as governor. Perhaps he was dissatisfied

with the concessions he had received, and this was intended as a

punishment. In the East, too, his hands were quite full. He had become

suspicious of his youngest brother Alí, and had therefore thrown him

into prison along with both his sons, but these had made their escape

(890-1) to Ráfi, a rough, unscrupulous warrior of Yakúb’s, who had

skilfully availed himself of circumstances gradually to become master of

a great part of Khorásán, and had also made Rai his own. Alí died while

with him, but the breach was not thereby healed. At this point Ráfi came

into conflict also with the new Caliph Motadid, who began to reign on

16th October 892, shortly after the death of his father Mowaffak. The

Caliph consequently again appointed Amr to the governorship of Khorásán.

While Ráfi was inflicting defeat on the Ispahánese, whom the Caliph had

at the same time stirred up against him, Amr took his capital Níshábúr

(July or August 893). Ráfi, however, did not abandon all hope of his

cause, but now allied himself with the Alid prince of Tabaristán; and

when Amr quitted Níshábúr some time afterwards, he stepped into the

place, caused the public prayer to be offered for the Alid, and

professed the Shíite faith. Through force of circumstances Amr thus

became the champion of orthodoxy and of the Commander of the Faithful

against the heretics. How good his understanding now once more was with

the court is shown by the large presents received from him in Bagdad in

May 896. Besides 4,000,000 dirhems (nearly £75,000), they included a

number of blood-camels and, very particularly, a bronze image, richly

decked with precious stones, of a goddess who (in Indian fashion) had

four arms; in front of the image, upon the car on which it was borne,

were a number of other smaller idols. The whole were publicly exhibited

for three days to the inhabitants of Bagdad. From this we gather that in

the meanwhile Amr had carried his arms again into the eastern heathen

lands which were subject to Indian influences, and this also is

expressly testified. He had permanent hold of the city of Ghazni, where,

among other works, he built a bridge.

While his presents were arriving in Bagdad, Amr was already in the field

against Ráfi. The siege of Níshábúr began in the end of May. Ráfi was

unable to hold out for long, and fled, but was pursued and beaten by

Amr, whose account of what occurred, sent to the Caliph, was read before

the grandees of the empire on Tuesday, 22nd December 896. Within eight

days a further dispatch arrived, to the effect that the miscreant had

been again defeated near Tús (north-east from Níshábúr), had thence fled

to Khárizm, and there had been slain (Friday, 19th November). This

letter, showing, as it did, how the hand of God had once more

annihilated the foes of the house of Abbás, was read in all the great

mosques at public worship on the following Friday (31st December 896).

On Thursday, 10th February 897, Amr’s messenger arrived with the head of

Ráfi, which was publicly shown all that day. Motadid had undoubtedly

good reason for hating the vanquished man. That Ráfi had done homage to

the descendant of Alí was bad enough in the eyes of the Caliph, who

assumed a consuming zeal for orthodoxy, but it was much worse that he

should publicly have charged Motadid with having compassed the death of

his uncle Motamid, in order to hasten his own succession. This reproach

was all the less pleasant if, as seems likely, it was founded on truth.

Amr, into whose hands the victory over Ráfi had brought his two nephews

also, was now in undisputed possession of Khorásán. In the course of the

year 897 there arrived in Níshábúr a messenger of the Caliph, who,

besides a variety of complimentary gifts, invested him with the

government of Rai. In return for this, Amr sent a large sum for the

pious purpose of setting up hospices for the accommodation of pilgrims

on the road from Irák to Mecca. He had now reached his culminating

point, and was actually stronger than Yakúb had ever been.

Motadid, perhaps the ablest Caliph since Mansúr, a man whose one object

was to restore the caliphate to its former glories, could not long

endure so powerful a subject. Amr’s want of moderation came to the

Caliph’s aid. He pressingly urged that he might receive the lands beyond

the Oxus, which certainly had long been regarded as a dependency of

Khorásán, and on which Yakúb, it would seem, had cast longing eyes. The

ruling house there for some time had been that of the Sámánids, who had

succeeded in raising to high prosperity the extensive oases surrounded

by barbarous nomads. The cunning Motadid acceded to this petition, and

in February 898 sent to Amr the tokens of his investiture with

Transoxania. Simultaneously, it is said, he wrote to Ismáíl the Sámánid

to the effect that he had deposed Amr, and now named him (Ismáíl)

governor of Khorásán; this, however, is not probable, Amr’s investiture

with Transoxania having taken place in such solemn form. Even without

this he was sure to gain his end, which was to set the two princes by

the ears, and at least to weaken Amr seriously; for it was a thing of

course that Ismáíl should resist. Amr now sent an army to cross the Oxus

near Amol (approximately where the straight line drawn from Níshábúr to

Bukhárá intersects the river). But, on the Sámánid’s advancing to meet

it, Amr’s army drew back a considerable distance, and near Abíwerd,

where the cultivated part of Khorásán borders on the desert, sustained a

great defeat (Monday, 29th October 898). Ismáíl thereafter retired. Amr

now resolved, against the advice of his counsellors, to take the field

in person. Then, or even earlier, it is said, Ismáíl wrote to him urging

him to be satisfied with his great kingdom; but he would not listen, and

when the difficulty of passing the mighty Oxus was represented to him,

his reply was: “I could, if I choose, dam it up with money bags.” He

betook himself to Balkh, which lies pretty near the river. Ismáíl

advanced to meet him with a superior army. It is expressly noted that

that army included the “owners of the soil;” if not patriotism, strictly

so called, there entered into the struggle a determination to protect

their well-governed land from the violence and greed of the Sístánese.

Ismáíl was successful in investing Balkh, and putting it in a state of

siege; perhaps Amr had previously lost a battle. It was in vain that he

sued for peace. He was compelled to fight, but his troops soon fled, and

dispersed in various directions; he himself got entangled in a marsh,

was taken prisoner (April 900), and sent in chains to Samarcand. Ismáíl

sent a suitable message to the Caliph; the news arrived on Wednesday,

28th May. Whether Motadid had continued to recognise Amr, or whether he

had already had due regard to the successes of the Sámánid, is not

known; now at all events it was matter of course that he should praise

the victor as his obedient officer, and censure the vanquished as a

rebel. Khorásán thenceforward became for a long time a possession of the

house of Sámán; but Párs was given by the Caliph, about the middle of

July, to another. Ismáíl is reported to have given Amr his choice

between being detained a prisoner with himself or being sent to the

Caliph; he is said to have chosen the latter. If this be the fact, he

had radically mistaken the character of Motadid.

The friendship that had subsisted between the two since the accession of

the latter had never been sincere; at no time had the Caliph seen in

as-Saffár anything but a usurper of his lawful rights, who had attained

to power only _injuriâ temporum_. But probably it was at the Caliph’s

own express demand that Amr was delivered up to him. He had sent

messengers to bring him; and the fact that these did not arrive in

Bagdad till 23rd April 901, indicates protracted negotiations. The

Sámánid had sent an attendant along with Amr, with instructions at once

to behead him if any movement should occur in his favour. The mighty

ruler, whose presents and trophies four short years before had been the

finest spectacle that could be furnished to the mob of Bagdad, was now

paraded before that mob in procession, as customary at the arrest of

great State offenders or heretical princes. From henceforward the

Saffárs were now officially designated as unbelievers or arch-heretics,

certainly with great injustice. The one-eyed, sun-burnt captive sat upon

a great caparisoned two-bunched camel,[83]—one of the animals that he

himself had sent in a present on the occasion just alluded to,—clothed

in a rich silken robe, and with a tall cap upon his head. The sight

touched the very mob in the street, and they refrained from the

customary reproaches and curses. A contemporary poet tells—half

pityingly, half mockingly—how, during this ride, Amr lifted up his

hands to God and prayed to be delivered from this trouble, and to be

allowed to become a coppersmith once more. The Caliph caused the unhappy

man to be brought into his presence, and curtly said to him: “This comes

of thy insolence.” He was then cast into prison, where he lived on for

about a year. In the beginning of April 902 (the date of Motadid’s

death) he was murdered. This, perhaps, was done at the instance of one

of the grandees, who was afraid that Amr might again return to power by

the aid of the successor to the throne, with whom he stood on a good

footing. But it is also possible that the dying Motadid[84] may himself

have given the order to have him put to death; it was not inconceivable

that as-Saffár, should he chance to make his escape in the confusion

attending the change of sovereign, might yet become a great trouble to

the new Caliph. So long as he lived he was “an object of hope and fear.”

In fact, rather more than a year before this (February 901), “out of

wrath for Amr,”[85] troops which had served under him had raised upon

the shield his grandson Táhir, son of Mohammed (who had died in 887),

taken Párs from the Government, and threatened Susiana.

Amr was hardly so doughty a warrior as his brother; he was not

unfrequently worsted. But his great craft is spoken of with admiration,

and the skill with which he watched over his people by means of a

careful system of espionage. He was greatly beloved by his soldiers.

Like Yakúb, he kept a full treasury. Occasionally his high officers,

even those who enjoyed his special favour, were compelled to surrender

large sums which they had gained _per fas_ or, oftener, _per nefas_; it

is only the sovereign exchequer[86] that in the East, and most of all in

Persian lands,[87] can digest every kind of unrighteous gain. By good

finance and great cleverness, Amr always came out successfully from his

misfortunes, until at last his land-hunger and the double-dealing of his

suzerain completely undid him. Posterity, for the most part, soon forgot

him; only a few considerable ecclesiastical and other edifices continued

to testify to his power and magnificence.

His grandson Táhir continued to play a part for some years in Párs and

Sístán, until at last he too, in a struggle with a former Mamlúk of Amr,

was taken captive and sent to Bagdad (908-9). Several other Saffárids,

among them three sons of Alí, came forward in the following years, but

all were overpowered. Three of them, among whom was a great-grandson of

Amr, also named Amr, were subdued by the Sámánid Ismáíl and his

successor; this Amr had been chosen by the Sístánese as their ruler in

914.[88]

Fifty years later we find Khalaf, son of Ahmed, ruling Sístán, under an

overlordship of the Sámánids, which was little more than a name. In his

elevation he had been helped by the circumstance that, through his

mother Bánó, he was a descendant of Amr. Contemporaries even designate

him as “descended from Amr.” His native country, it is clear, still held

as-Saffár’s name in high honour. Khalaf was a very pious ruler; a

protector of poets, who sang his praises; and of scholars, to whose

number he is himself reckoned. Amongst other literary works, he caused a

commentary on the Koran, in one hundred volumes, to be prepared, the

largest of the numerous books of this kind of which we have any

information. But yet he, too, cared more for property and power than for

piety or culture. Tradition represents him not only as a cunning, but

also as a rather untrustworthy person. Out of mistrust he threw his son

Táhir into prison, where he died—a suicide, it was alleged. After many

vicissitudes of fortune, Khalaf fell into the hands of the great

conqueror Mahmúd of Ghazni (1002-3), and died in captivity in March

1008. His son Abú Hafs survived him, and entered the service of Mahmúd.

So ended the mighty race of princes of Sístán.

-----

[62] Approximately corresponding to the upper basin of the Hélmend.

[63] See above, p. 80.

[64] A contemporary incidentally mentions the great production of copper

and brass work in Sístán.

[65] Rostam’s stable is pointed out in several other parts of Sístán

also.

[66] According to another account the governor of Khorásán had got

Dirhem into his power and sent him as a prisoner to Bagdad. Our

information as to the earlier history of our hero is at every point full

of contradictions.

[67] Something similar happened not unfrequently in the Ottoman empire

during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

[68] The details of these struggles are again very variously given.

[69] See above, p. 139.

[70] The Kharijites considered themselves the only true believers, and

accordingly gave this proud title to their own leaders.

[71] See above, p. 139.

[72] Near the modern Teherán.

[73]

Táhir

|

Abdalláh

|

---------------

| |

Táhir Obaidalláh

|

-----------

| |

Mohammed Husain

[74] The word Mamlúk, meaning something like “purchased slave,” was not

current in this sense till later; in Yakúb’s time, such persons were

mostly called Ghulám (plural, Ghilmán), “lads.”

[75] See above, p. 162 sqq.

[76] In a somewhat different text these verses are given by others as

his epitaph; but they are only slightly modified from a much older

passage.

[77] This citadel, which is still kept up, has until recently often

served as a place of confinement for political prisoners.

[78] One coinage of the year 877-8 is known.

[79] See above, p. 160.

[80] In his native Sístán, indeed, a peculiar taste prevailed, asafœtida

being a very favourite condiment.

[81] The precise date of these events is unknown.

[82] See above, p. 162.

[83] In other cases delinquents of this kind were set even upon

elephants. The two-bunched camel is a foreign creature in these parts.

[84] Motadid once declared it to be a maxim of his, never to let an

enemy out of prison except to his grave.

[85] The French translation of Mas’údí renders this expression quite

wrongly.

[86]

(“Die Kirch’ allein, meine lieben Frauen,

Kann ungerechtes Gut verdauen.”—_Goethe._)

[87] See above, p. 133.

[88]

Laith

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Y a k ú b A m r Alí

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Mohammed

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Táhir Yakúb

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Amr

VII.

SOME SYRIAN SAINTS.

IN the first centuries of our era there was, in the eastern portions of

the Roman empire, a growing tendency to renounce even lawful worldly

pleasures for the sake of religion.[89] But the inclination to

asceticism acquired peculiar strength after the victory of Christianity,

particularly in Egypt and Syria. Was it not the duty of Christians (Gal.

v. 24) “to crucify the flesh, with its affections and lusts”? The men of

the cloister retained at least a social life; but many ascetics withdrew

into entire solitude to serve God, remote from the world and its

pleasures. They could not be always fasting; but they contented

themselves with the simplest food, which they either gathered for

themselves or received in gifts from their admirers. Many exposed

themselves, without any protection, to all vicissitudes of weather. Some

paid so little attention to the care of their persons as to give up the

practice of washing altogether; the legends often speak with reverential

wonder of the filth and vermin of these disgusting saints.[90] Among the

number of these Christian hermits there doubtless were some elevated, if

mistaken, spirits, of whom, however, only a few can actually have found

peace and satisfaction in such a manner of life. But the majority

certainly consisted of petty souls, whom it cost but little to renounce

many of those things by which man is really made man. The mendicant who

in our day sits silent and solitary in the same spot in all weathers,

waiting for the charity of the passers by, might perhaps, in those times

and regions, have become a holy anchorite. Many of these last may have

suffered in their past lives through fault of their own, or through

innocent misfortune; others had, perhaps, crimes on their conscience

which they sought to atone for. Fastings and macerations are apt to act

on the nervous system and produce visions—now pleasant, now horrible.

This must have been very specially the case with persons of the sort we

are describing—religiously disposed, and brought up to believe in

miracles and manifestations. The saint had at one time to contend with

demons in terrible or in alluring shapes, whom, in the last resort, he

repelled with blows or volleys of stones; at another time there appeared

to him angels and godly men of old, who exhorted and encouraged him, or

even revealed to him the future. If the actual events coincided

tolerably with what had been previously revealed, the coincidence would

gradually come to appear, in the dreamer’s mind, greater than it really

was. A reputation for prophetic gifts was thus easily acquired. The

unfulfilled was forgotten, or the vagueness of the oracles allowed new

interpretations. Similarly with miraculous healings. Here, indeed, we

must remember that certain nervous diseases can for the moment, or even

permanently, be cured by faith in the healing power of another; cures of

this sort still occur, and will, perhaps, repeatedly be wrought within

the next few months at Treves, in connection with the exhibition of the

Holy Coat.[91] Other cures were immediately ascribed to the blessing or

intercession of the ascetics; while cases of failure were attributed to

sin, or were forgotten. Once an ascetic had come to be reputed a prophet

or miracle-worker, his fame rapidly grew, and often stood highest at a

distance from the scene of his activity, or after the lapse of some

time.

I have already indicated that the hermit seldom or never lived in

absolute solitude. Disciples who learned from him and waited upon him,

and other admirers, gathered round him. The looks of admiration which

others bent upon the man who had given up all earthly things for God

were easily understood and well received; these are not the only devout

men in whom an overpowering pride has clothed itself in expressions of

the deepest humility.

Once men of this kind had attained high consideration they were often

applied to for counsel and advice in matters not strictly religious.

Governors and princes occasionally paid attention to them, voluntarily,

or to some extent under popular compulsion. Still more had the bishops

to do so, to whom it can hardly always have been any particular pleasure

to share their power (reaching far into secular matters) with a class of

men for the most part uneducated and obstinate. The ascetics, it is

true, who did not need to consult worldly interests, often espoused the

cause of oppressed innocence, and with success; but there was always

great risk of their abusing their authority; for the very conditions of

his life often made it impossible for the ascetic to judge fairly of the

case laid before him. In the deplorable ecclesiastical controversies of

the fifth and sixth centuries, the holy hermits and monks often exerted

an exciting, seldom a soothing, influence.

Viewing the subject as a whole, we cannot regard this asceticism as

other than a morbid phenomenon. It did little good and much evil. The

mania for self-mortification spread among the Syrians like an infection,

and, combined with their absorption in hair-splitting dogmatic

controversies, had a large influence in giving a false direction to the

mind of that people.

In what follows I shall endeavour to exhibit to the reader a few Syrian

ascetics. I begin with one of the most famous of them all, and shall

afterwards go on to others whose portraits have been drawn for us only

by one contemporary, but are characteristic for the whole class.