LITERATURE.
Perhaps there are no people in the world who are such enthusiastic
admirers of literature, and so excited by romantic tales, as the Arabs.
Eloquence, with them, is lawful magic: it exercises over their minds an
irresistible influence. "I swear by God," said their Prophet, "verily
abuse of infidels in verse is worse to them than arrows."[123]
In the purest, or Heroic Age of Arabic literature, which was anterior to
the triumph of the Mohammadan religion, the conquest which the love of
eloquence could achieve over the sanguinary and vindictive feelings of
the Arabs was most remarkably exemplified in the annual twenty days'
fair of ´Okáḍh.
The fair of ´Okáḍh "was not only a great mart opened annually to all
the tribes of Arabia; but it was also a literary congress, or rather a
general concourse of virtues, of glory and of poetry, whither the
hero-poets resorted to celebrate their exploits in rhyming verse, and
peacefully to contend for every kind of honour. This fair was held in
the district of Mekkeh, between Eṭ-Ṭáïf and Nakhleh and was opened
at the new moon of Dhu-l-Ḳaạdeh; that is to say, at the
commencement of a period of three sacred months, during which all war
was suspended and homicide interdicted.... How is it possible to
conceive that men whose wounds were always bleeding, who had always acts
of vengeance to execute, vengeances to dread, could at a certain epoch
impose silence upon their animosities, so as tranquilly to sit beside a
mortal enemy? How could the brave who required the blood of a father, a
brother, or a son, according to the phraseology of the desert and of the
Bible,[124] who long, perhaps, had pursued in vain the murderer,--meet
him, accost him peacefully at ´Okáḍh, and only assault with cadences
and rhymes him whose presence alone seemed to accuse him of impotence or
cowardice,--him whom he was bound to slay, under pain of infamy, after
the expiration of the truce? In fine, how could he hear a panegyric
celebrating a glory acquired at his own expense, and sustain the fire of
a thousand looks, and yet appear unmoved? Had the Arabs no longer any
blood in their veins during the continuance of the fair?
"These embarrassing questions ... were determined [to a great degree],
during the age of Arab paganism, in a manner the simplest and most
refined: at the fair of ´Okáḍh, the heroes were masked [or veiled].
In the recitations and improvisations, the voice of the orator was aided
by that of a rhapsodist or crier, who was stationed near him, and
repeated his words. There is a similar office in the public prayers; it
is that of the muballigh (transmitter), who is employed to repeat in a
loud voice what is said in a lower tone by the Imám.... The use of the
mask [or veil] might, however, be either adopted or dispensed with _ad
libitum_; as is proved by the narratives of a great number of quarrels
begun and ended at ´Okáḍh....
"It was in this congress of the Arab poets (and almost every warrior was
a poet at the age which I am considering) that the dialects of Arabia
became fused into a magic language, the language of the Ḥejáz, which
Moḥammad made use of to subvert the world; for the triumph of
Moḥammad is nothing else than the triumph of speech."[125] The
Ḳur-án is regarded by the Arabs as an everlasting miracle, surpassing
all others, appealing to the understanding of every generation by its
inimitable eloquence. A stronger proof of the power of language over
their minds could hardly be adduced; unless it be their being capable of
receiving as a credible fact the tradition that both genii and men were
attracted by the eloquent reading of David, when he recited the Psalms;
that the wild beasts and the birds were alike fascinated; and that
sometimes there were borne out from his assembly as many as four hundred
corpses of men who died from the excessive delight with which he thus
inspired them![126] It may be added, that the recitation or chanting of
the Ḳur-án is a favourite means of amusing the guests at modern
private festivities.
In what may be termed the Middle Age of Arabic literature, beginning
with the triumph of the Mohammadan religion and extending to the
foundation of the Empire of Baghdád, the power of eloquence over the
educated classes of the Arabs probably increased in proportion as it
became less familiar to them: for early in this age they began to
simplify their spoken language in consequence of their intercourse with
strangers, who could not generally acquire the difficult, old dialect of
their conquerors, which consequently began to be confined to literary
compositions. That such a change took place at this period appears from
several anecdotes interspersed in Arabic works. The Khaleefeh El-Weleed
(who reigned near the close of the first century of the Flight), the
son of ´Abd-El-Melik, spoke so corrupt a dialect that he often could not
make himself understood by the Arabs of the desert. A ridiculous
instance of the mistakes occasioned by his use of the simplified
language which is now current is related by Abu-l-Fidà. The same author
adds that the father and predecessor of this prince was a man of
eloquence, and that he was grieved by the corrupt speech of his son,
which he considered as a defect that incapacitated him to be a future
ruler of the Arabs, who were still great admirers of purity of speech,
though so large a proportion of them spoke a corrupt dialect. So he sent
him to a house to be instructed by a grammarian; but after the youth had
remained there a long time, he returned to his father more ignorant than
before. Vulgarisms, however, would sometimes escape from the mouth of
´Abd-El-Melik himself; yet so sensible was he to eloquence, that when a
learned man, with whom he was conversing, elegantly informed him of an
error of this kind, he ordered his mouth to be filled with jewels.
"These," said his courteous admonisher, "are things to be treasured up,
not to be expended:"--and for this delicate hint he was further rewarded
with thirty thousand pieces of silver and several costly articles of
apparel.[127]
It may be added that this Khaleefeh was in the beginning of his reign an
unjust monarch, but was reclaimed to a sense of his duty by the
following means. Being one night unable to sleep, he called for a person
to tell him a story for his amusement. "O Prince of the Faithful," said
the man thus bidden, "there was an owl in El-Móṣil, and an owl in
El-Baṣrah; and the owl of El-Móṣil demanded in marriage for her
son the daughter of the owl of El-Baṣrah: but the owl of El-Baṣrah
said, 'I will not, unless thou give me as her dowry a hundred desolate
farms.' 'That I cannot do,' said the owl of El-Móṣil, 'at present;
but if our sovereign (may God, whose name be exalted, preserve him!)
live one year, I will give thee what thou desirest.'" This simple fable
sufficed to rouse the prince from his apathy, and he thenceforward
applied himself to fulfil the duties of his station.[128]
In the most flourishing age of Arabic poetry and general literature and
science, beginning with the foundation of the Empire of Baghdád and
extending to the conquest of Egypt by the ´Othmánlee Turks, the
influence of eloquent and entertaining language upon the character of
the Arab sovereigns was particularly exemplified, as the following
anecdotes will show.
It is related by El-Aṣma´ee that Hároon Er-Rasheed, at a grand fête
which he was giving, ordered the poet Abu-l´Atáhiyeh to depict in verse
the voluptuous enjoyments of his sovereign. The poet began thus:--
"Live long in safe enjoyment of thy desires under the shadow of
lofty palaces!"
"Well said!" exclaimed Er-Rasheed: "and what next?"
"May thy wishes be abundantly fulfilled, whether at eventide or in
the morning!"
"Well!" again said the Khaleefeh: "then what next?"
"But when the rattling breath struggles in the dark cavity of the
chest,
Then shalt thou know surely that thou hast been only in the midst
of illusions."
Er-Rasheed wept; and Faḍl, the son of Yaḥyà, said, "The Prince of
the Faithful sent for thee to divert him, and thou hast plunged him into
grief." "Suffer him," said the prince; "for he hath beheld us in
blindness, and it displeased him to increase it."[129]
The family of the Barmekees (one of the most brilliant ornaments of
which was the Wezeer Jaạfar, who has been rendered familiar to us by
the many scenes in which he is introduced in the "Thousand and One
Nights") earned a noble and enduring reputation by their attachment to
literature and the magnificent rewards they conferred on learned men. It
was peculiarly hard, therefore, that literature contributed to their
melancholy overthrow. Poets were employed by their enemies to compose
songs artfully pointed against them, to be sung before the prince to
whom they owed their power. Of one of these songs, the following lines
formed a part:--
"Would that Hind had fulfilled the promises she made us, and healed
the disease under which we suffer!
That she had once, at least, acted for herself! for imbecile, indeed,
is he who doth not so."
"Yea! By Allah! Imbecile!" exclaimed the Khaleefeh, on hearing these
verses: his jealousy was roused; and his vengeance soon after fell
heavily upon his former favourites.[130]
One of the Khaleefehs having invited the poets of his day to his palace,
a Bedawee, carrying a water-jar to fill at the river, followed them, and
entered with them. The Khaleefeh, seeing this poor man with the jar on
his shoulder, asked him what brought him thither. He returned for answer
these words:--
"Seeing that this company had girded on the saddles
To repair to thy overflowing river, I came with my jar."
The Khaleefeh, delighted with his answer, gave orders to fill his jar
with gold.[131]
It has long been a common custom of Eastern princes to bestow dresses
of honour upon men of literature and science, as well as upon their
great officers and other servants. These dresses were of different kinds
for persons of different classes or professions. The most usual kind was
an ample coat. With dresses of this description were often given
gold-embroidered turbans, and sometimes to Emeers (or great military
officers) neck-rings or collars (called ṭóḳs), some of which were
set with jewels, as also bracelets and swords ornamented with precious
stones; and to Wezeers, instead of the ṭóḳ, a necklace of
jewels.[132]
The following striking record will convey an idea of the magnificence of
some of these dresses of honour, or in other words of the liberality of
a Muslim prince, and at the same time of the very precarious nature of
his favour. A person chancing to look at a register kept by one of the
officers of Hároon Er-Rasheed, saw in it the following entry:--"Four
hundred thousand pieces of gold, the price of a dress of honour for
Jaạfar, the son of Yaḥyà, the Wezeer." A few days after, he saw
beneath this written,--"Ten ḳeeráṭs, the price of naphtha and
reeds, for burning the body of Jaạfar, the son of Yaḥyà."[133]
Arab princes and other great men have generally been famous for highly
respecting and liberally rewarding men of literature and science, and
especially poets. El-Ma-moon and many others are well known to us for
their patronage of the learned. Er-Rasheed carried his condescension to
them so far as to pour the water on the hands of a blind man,
Aboo-Mo´áwiyeh, one of the most learned persons of his time, previously
to his eating with him, to show his respect for science.[134] We have
already seen how a Khaleefeh ordered the mouth of a learned man to be
filled with jewels. To cram the mouth with sugar or sweetmeats for a
polite or eloquent speech, or piece of poetry, has been more commonly
done; but the usual presents to learned men were, and are, dresses of
honour and sums of money. Ibn-´Obeyd El-Bakhteree, an illustrious poet
and traditionist who flourished in the reign of El-Musta´een, is said to
have received so many presents that after his death there were found,
among the property which he left, a hundred complete suits of dress, two
hundred shirts, and five hundred turbans.[135] A thousand pieces of gold
were often given, and sometimes ten, twenty, or thirty thousand, and
even more, for a few verses; nay, for a single couplet.
The prodigality of Arab princes to men of learning may be exemplified by
the following anecdote.--Ḥammád, surnamed Er-Ráwiyeh, or the famous
reciter, having attached himself to the Khaleefeh El-Weleed, the son of
´Abd-El-Melik, and shown a contrary feeling towards his brother Hishám,
fled, on the accession of the latter, to El-Koofeh. While there, a
letter arrived from Hishám, commanding his presence at Damascus: it was
addressed to the governor, who, being ordered to treat him with honour,
gave him a purse containing a thousand pieces of gold, and dispatched
him with the Khaleefeh's messenger.
On his arrival at Damascus, he was conducted before Hishám, whom he
found in a splendid saloon, seated under a pavilion of red silk
surmounted by a dome of yellow brocade, attended by two female slaves of
beauty unsurpassed, each holding a crystal ewer of wine. His admission
during the presence of members of the king's ḥareem was a very
unusual and high honour: the mention of the wine will be explained in
the next chapter. After Ḥammád had given the salutation[136] and the
Khaleefeh had returned it, the latter told him that he had sent for him
to ask respecting a couplet of which he could only remember that it
ended with the word "ibreeḳ," which signifies "a ewer." The reciter
reflected awhile, and the lines occurred to his mind, and he repeated
them. Hishám cried out in delight that the lines were those he meant;
drank a cup of wine, and desired one of the female slaves to hand a cup
to Ḥammád. She did so; and the draught, he says, deprived him of
one-third of his reason. The Khaleefeh desired him to repeat the lines
again, and drink a second cup; and Ḥammád was deprived of another
third of his reason in the same manner; and said, "O Prince of the
Faithful, two-thirds of my reason have departed from me." Hishám
laughed, and desired him to ask what he would before the remaining third
should have gone; and the reciter said, "One of these two female
slaves." The Khaleefeh laughed again, and said, "Nay, but both of them
are thine, and all that is upon them and all that they possess, and
beside them fifty thousand pieces of gold."--"I kissed the ground before
him," says Ḥammád, "and drank a third cup, and was unconscious of
what happened after. I did not awake till the close of the night, when I
found myself in a handsome house, surrounded by lighted candles, and the
two female slaves were putting in order my clothes and other things. So
I took possession of the property, and departed, the happiest of the
creatures of God."[137]
In the beginning of the year of the Flight 305 (A.D. 917), two
ambassadors from the Greek Emperor (Constantine VII., Porphyrogenitus)
arrived in Baghdád on a mission to the Khaleefeh El-Muḳtedir,
bringing an abundance of costly presents. They were first received by
the Wezeer, who, at the audience which he granted to them in his garden
palace, displayed a degree of magnificence that had never before been
manifested by any of his rank. Pages, memlooks, and soldiers crowded
the avenues and courts of his mansion, the apartments of which were hung
with tapestry of the value of thirty thousand deenárs; and the Wezeer
himself was surrounded by generals and other officers on his right and
left and behind his seat, when the two ambassadors approached him,
dazzled by the splendour that surrounded them, to beg for an interview
with the Khaleefeh. El-Muḳtedir, having appointed a day on which he
would receive them, ordered that the courts and passages and avenues of
his palace should be filled with armed men, and that all the apartments
should be furnished with the utmost magnificence. A hundred and sixty
thousand armed soldiers were arranged in ranks in the approach to the
palace; next to these were the pages of the closets and chief eunuchs,
clad in silk and with belts set with jewels, in number seven
thousand,--four thousand white and three thousand black,--besides seven
hundred chamberlains; and beautifully ornamented boats of various kinds
were seen floating upon the Tigris hard by.
The two ambassadors passed first by the palace of the chief chamberlain,
and, astonished at the splendid ornaments and pages and arms which they
there beheld, imagined that this was the palace of the Khaleefeh. But
what they had seen here was eclipsed by what they beheld in the latter,
where they were amazed by the sight of thirty-eight thousand pieces of
tapestry of gold-embroidered silk brocade, and twenty-two thousand
magnificent carpets. Here also were two menageries of beasts, by nature
wild but tamed by art and eating from the hands of men: among them were
a hundred lions, each with its keeper. They then entered the Palace of
the Tree, enclosing a pond from which rose the Tree: this had eighteen
branches, with artificial leaves of various colours and with birds of
gold and silver (or gilt and silvered) of every variety of kind and size
perched upon its branches, so constructed that each of them sang. Thence
they passed into the garden, in which were furniture and utensils not to
be enumerated; in the passages leading to it were suspended ten thousand
gilt coats of mail. Being at length conducted before El-Muḳtedir,
they found him seated on a couch of ebony inlaid with gold and silver,
to the right of which were hung nine necklaces of jewels, and the like
to the left, the jewels of which outshone the light of day. The two
ambassadors paused at the distance of about a hundred cubits from the
Khaleefeh, with the interpreter. Having left the presence, they were
conducted through the palace, and were shown splendidly caparisoned
elephants, a giraffe, lynxes, and other beasts. They were then clad with
robes of honour, and to each of them was brought fifty thousand dirhems,
together with dresses and other presents. It is added that the
ambassadors approached the palace through a street called "the Street of
the Menárehs," in which were a thousand menárehs or minarets. It was at
the hour of noon; and as they passed, the muëddins from all these
minarets chanted the call to prayer at the same time, so that the earth
almost quaked at the sound, and the ambassadors were struck with
fear.[138]
The Orientals well understand how to give the most striking effect to
the jewels which they display on their dress and ornaments on occasions
of state. Sir John Malcolm, describing his reception by the King of
Persia, says, "His dress baffled all description. The ground of his
robes was white; but he was so covered with jewels of an extraordinary
size, and their splendour, from his being seated where the rays of the
sun played upon them, was so dazzling, that it was impossible to
distinguish the minute parts which combined to give such amazing
brilliancy to his whole figure."
A whimsical story is told of a King who denied to poets those rewards to
which usage had almost given them a claim. This King, whose name is not
recorded, had the faculty of retaining in his memory an ode after having
only once heard it; and he had a memlook who could repeat an ode that he
had twice heard, and a female slave who could repeat one that she had
heard thrice. Whenever a poet came to compliment him with a panegyrical
ode, the King used to promise him that if he found his verses to be his
original composition, he would give him a sum of money equal in weight
to what they were written upon. The poet, consenting, would recite his
ode; and the King would say, "It is not new, for I have known it some
years;" and would repeat it as he had heard it. After which he would
add, "And this memlook also retains it in his memory;" and would order
the memlook to repeat it: which, having heard it twice, from the poet
and the king, he would do. The King would then say to the poet, "I have
also a female slave who can repeat it;" and on his ordering her to do
so, stationed behind the curtains, she would repeat what she had thus
thrice heard: so the poet would go away empty-handed. The famous poet,
El Aṣma´ee, having heard of this proceeding, and guessing the trick,
determined upon outwitting the King; and accordingly composed an ode
made up of very difficult words. But this was not his only preparative
measure, another will be presently explained, and a third was to assume
the dress of a Bedawee, that he might not be known, covering his face,
the eyes only excepted, with a lithám (a piece of drapery) in accordance
with a custom of Arabs of the desert.
Thus disguised, he went to the palace, and having asked permission,
entered, and saluted the King, who said to him, "Whence art thou, O
brother of the Arabs, and what dost thou desire?"
The poet answered, "May God increase the power of the King! I am a poet
of such a tribe, and have composed an ode in praise of our Lord the
Sulṭán."
"O brother of the Arabs," said the King, "hast thou heard of our
condition?"
"No," answered the poet; "and what is it, O King of the age?"
"It is," replied the King, "that if the ode be not thine, we give thee
no reward; and if it be thine, we give thee the weight in money of what
it is written upon."
"How," said El-Aṣma´ee, "should I assume to myself that which belongs
to another, and knowing, too, that lying before kings is one of the
basest of actions? But I agree to this condition, O our Lord the
Sulṭán."
So he repeated his ode. The King, perplexed, and unable to remember any
of it, made a sign to the memlook--but he had retained nothing; and
called to the female slave, but she also was unable to repeat a word.
"O brother of the Arabs," said he, "thou hast spoken truth, and the ode
is thine without doubt; I have never heard it before: produce,
therefore, what it is written upon, and we will give thee its weight in
money, as we have promised."
"Wilt thou," said the poet, "send one of the attendants to carry it?"
"To carry what?" asked the King; "is it not upon a paper here in thy
possession?"
"No, our lord the Sulṭán," replied the poet; "at the time I composed
it I could not procure a piece of paper upon which to write it, and
could find nothing but a fragment of a marble column left me by my
father; so I engraved it upon this, and it lies in the court of the
palace."
He had brought it, wrapped up, on the back of a camel. The King, to
fulfil his promise, was obliged to exhaust his treasury; and to prevent
a repetition of this trick, (of which he afterwards discovered
El-Aṣma´ee to have been the author), in future rewarded the poets
according to the usual custom of kings.[139]
In the present declining age of Arabian learning (which may be said to
have commenced about the period of the conquest of Egypt by the
´Othmánlees), literary recreations still exert a magical influence upon
the Arabs. Compositions of a similar nature to the tales of the
"Thousand and One Nights" (though regarded by the learned as idle
stories unworthy of being classed with their literature) enable numbers
of professional story-tellers to attract crowds of delighted listeners
to the coffee-shops of the East; and now that the original of this work
is printed and to be purchased at a moderate price, it will probably
soon in a great measure supersede the romances of Aboo-Zeyd,
Eẓ-Ẓáhir, and ´Antarah. As a proof of the powerful fascinations
with which the tales of the "Thousand and One Nights" affect the mind of
a highly enlightened Muslim, it may be mentioned that the latest native
historian of Modern Egypt, the sheykh ´Abd-Er-Raḥmán El-Jabartee, so
delighted in their perusal that he took the trouble of refining the
language of a copy of them which he possessed, expunging or altering
whatever was grossly offensive to morality without the somewhat
redeeming quality of wit, and adding many facetiæ of his own and of
other literati. What has become of this copy I have been unable, though
acquainted with several of his friends, to discover.
The letters of Muslims are distinguished by several peculiarities
dictated by the rules of politeness. The paper is thick, white, and
highly polished: sometimes it is ornamented with flowers of gold; and
the edges are always cut straight with scissors. The upper half is
generally left blank, and the writing never occupies any portion of the
second side. A notion of the usual style of letters may be obtained from
several examples in the "Thousand and One Nights." The name of the
person to whom the letter is addressed, when the writer is an inferior
or an equal, and even in some other cases, commonly occurs in the first
sentence, preceded by several titles of honour; and is often written a
little above the line to which it appertains; the space beneath it in
that line being left blank: sometimes it is written in letters of gold,
or red ink. A king writing to a subject, or a great man to a dependant,
usually places his name and seal at the head of his letter. The seal is
the impression of a signet (generally a ring, worn on the little finger
of the right hand), upon which is engraved the name of the person,
commonly accompanied by the words "His [_i.e._ God's] servant," or some
other words expressive of trust in God and the like. Its impression is
considered more valid than the sign-manual, and is indispensable to give
authenticity to the letter. It is made by dabbing some ink upon the
surface of the signet and pressing this upon the paper: the place which
is to be stamped being first moistened by touching the tongue with a
finger of the right hand and then gently rubbing the part with that
finger. A person writing to a superior or an equal, or even to an
inferior to whom he wishes to show respect, signs his name at the bottom
of his letter, next the left side or corner, and places the seal
immediately to the right of this: but if he particularly desire to
testify his humility, he places it beneath his name, or even partly
over the lower edge of the paper, which consequently does not receive
the whole of the impression. The letter is generally folded twice in the
direction of the writing, and enclosed in a cover of paper, upon which
is written the address in some such form as this:--"It shall arrive, if
it be the will of God, whose name be exalted, at such a place, and be
delivered into the hand of our honoured friend, etc., such a one, whom
God preserve." Sometimes it is placed in a small bag, or purse, of silk
embroidered with gold.
Many persons of the instructed classes, and some others among the Arabs,
often take delight and show much ingenuity and quickness of apprehension
in conversing and corresponding by means of signs and emblems, or in a
conventional, metaphorical language, not understood by the vulgar in
general and sometimes not by any excepting the parties engaged in the
intercourse. In some cases, when the main metaphor employed is
understood, the rest of the conversation becomes easily intelligible,
without any previous explanation; and I have occasionally succeeded in
carrying on a conversation of this kind, but I have more frequently been
unsuccessful in attempting to divine the nature of a topic in which
other persons were engaged. One simple mode of secret conversation or
correspondence is by substituting certain letters for other letters.
Many of the women are said to be adepts in this art, or science, and to
convey messages, declarations of love, and the like, by means of fruits,
flowers, and other emblems. The inability of numbers of women in
families of the middle classes to write or read, as well as the
difficulty or impossibility frequently existing of conveying written
letters, may have given rise to such modes of communication. Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu, in one of her charming letters from the East, has
gratified our curiosity by a Turkish love-letter of this kind.[140] A
specimen of one from an Arab with its answer, may be here added:--An
Arab lover sent to his mistress a fan, a bunch of flowers, a silk
tassel, some sugar-candy, and a piece of a chord of a musical
instrument; and she returned for answer a piece of an aloe-plant, three
black cumin-seeds, and a piece of a plant used in washing.[141] His
communication is thus interpreted. The fan, being called "mirwaḥah,"
a word derived from a root which has among its meanings that of "going
to any place in the evening," signified his wish to pay her an evening
visit: the flowers, that the interview should be in her garden: the
tassel, being called "shurrábeh," that they should have sharáb[142] (or
wine): the sugar-candy, being termed "sukkar nebát," and "nebát" also
signifying "we will pass the night," denoted his desire to remain in her
company until the morning: and the piece of a chord, that they should be
entertained by music. The interpretation of her answer is as follows.
The piece of an aloe-plant, which is called "ṣabbárah" (from
"ṣabr," which signifies "patience"--because it will live for many
months together without water), implied that he must wait: the three
black cumin-seeds explained to him that the period of delay should be
three nights: and the plant used in washing informed him that she should
then have gone to the bath, and would meet him.[143]
A remarkable faculty is displayed by some Arabs for catching the
meaning of secret signs employed in written communications to them, such
signs being often used in political and other intrigues. The following
is a curious instance.--The celebrated poet El-Mutanebbee, having
written some verses in dispraise of Káfoor El-Ikhsheedee, the
independent Governor of Egypt, was obliged to flee and hide himself in a
distant town. Káfoor was informed of his retreat, and desired his
secretary to write to him a letter promising him pardon and commanding
him to return; but told the writer at the same time that when the poet
came he would punish him. The secretary was a friend of the poet, and,
being obliged to read the letter to the Prince when he had written it,
was perplexed how to convey to El-Mutanebbee some indication of the
danger that awaited him. He could only venture to do so in the exterior
address; and having written this in the usual form, commencing "In
sháa-lláh" (If it be the will of God) "this shall arrive," etc., he put
a small mark of reduplication over the "n" in the first word, which he
thus converted into "Inna," the final vowel being understood. The poet
read the letter and was rejoiced to see a promise of pardon; but on
looking a second time at the address was surprised to observe the mark
of reduplication over the "n." Knowing the writer to be his friend, he
immediately suspected a secret meaning, and rightly conceived that the
sign conveyed an allusion to a passage in the Ḳur-án commencing with
the word "Inna," and this he divined to be the following:--"Verily the
magistrates are deliberating concerning thee, to put thee to
death."[144] Accordingly, he fled to another town. Some authors add that
he wrote a reply conveying by a similar sign to his friend an allusion
to another passage in the Ḳur-án:--"We will never enter the country
while they remain therein."[145] It is probable that signs thus employed
were used by many persons to convey allusions to certain words; and such
may have been the case in the above-mentioned instance: if not, the poet
was indeed a wonderful guesser.
It is commonly believed by the Muslims (learned and unlearned) that all
kinds of birds and many (if not all) beasts have a language by which
they communicate their thoughts to each other; and we are told in the
Ḳur-án[146] that Suleymán (Solomon) was taught the language of
birds.[147] I thought that I could boast of an accomplishment very rare
in Christian countries, in having learned in Egypt somewhat of this
language; for instance, that the common cry of the pigeon is "Allah!
Allah!" ("God! God!"); that of the ringdove, "Kereem! Towwáb!"
("Bountiful! Propitious!"--an ejaculation addressed to God); that of the
common dove, "Waḥḥidoo rabbakumu-llezee khalaḳakum
yeghfir-lakum zembakum!" ("Assert the unity of your Lord who created
you, that He may forgive you your sin!"): but I afterwards found that
several specimens of this language were given by Ez-Zamakhsheree, and
had been published in Europe.[148] The cock cries, "Uzkuru-lláha, yá
gháfiloon!" ("Commemorate God, O ye negligent!"): the ḳaṭà (a kind
of grouse), "Men seket selim!" ("He who is silent is safe!") The latter,
however, would do better if it did itself attend to the maxim it utters;
for its cry (which to the uninstructed in the language of birds sounds
merely "ḳaṭà! ḳaṭà!"--its own name) tells where it is to be
found by the sportsman, and thus causes its own destruction.--Hence the
proverb, "More veracious than the ḳaṭà."
An Arab historian mentions a parrot which recited the Soorat Yá-Seen
(or 36th chapter of the Ḳur-án), and a raven which recited the Soorat
es-Sijdeh (or 32nd chapter) and which, on arriving at the place of
prostration (or verse which should be recited with prostration), would
perform that action, and say, "My body prostrateth itself to Thee, and
my heart confideth in Thee." But these are not the most remarkable cases
of the kind. He affirms that there was a parrot in Cairo which recited
the Ḳur-án from beginning to end. The Pásha, he says, desiring to try
its talent, caused a man to recite a chapter of the Ḳur-án in its
presence, and to pass irregularly from one chapter to another, with the
view of leading the bird into error; but, instead of this being the
result, the parrot corrected him![149]
FOOTNOTES:
[123] Mishkát el-Maṣábeeḥ, ii. 424. This of course alludes to
_Arab_ unbelievers. [For a fuller account of ancient Arab poetry, with
examples, see my Introduction to Lane's "Selections from the Ḳur-án,"
xiv.-xxxi. 2nd ed. S. L-P.]
[124] Genesis ix. 5.
[125] Lettres sur l'Histoire des Arabes avant l'Islamisme, par Fulgence
Fresnel (Paris, 1836, pp. 31 ff.); an author who is at present [1837]
devoting talents of the very highest order to the study and illustration
of the history and literature of the early Arabs, and to whose
conversations and writings I must acknowledge myself indebted for the
most valuable information.
[126] El-Isḥáḳee.
[127] El-Isḥáḳee.
[128] El-Isḥáḳee.
[129] Fakhr-ed-Deen, in De Sacy, Chrestomathie Arabe.
[130] Ibn-Khaldoon.
[131] Ḥalbet el-Kumeyt (MS.), chap. vii.
[132] El-Maḳreezee's Khiṭaṭ, chapter entitled "Khizánet
el-Kisawát."
[133] Fakhr-ed-Deen, ubi supra. The ḳeerát of Baghdád was the
twentieth part of a deenár or piece of gold.
[134] Fakhr-ed-Deen, ubi supra.
[135] D'Herbelot, art. "Bokhteri."
[136] Various different modes of obeisance are practised by the Muslims.
Among these, the following are the more common or more remarkable: they
differ in the degree of respect that they indicate, nearly in the order
in which I shall mention them; the last being the most respectful:--1.
Placing the right hand upon the breast.--2. Touching the lips and the
forehead or turban (or the forehead or turban only) with the right
hand.--3. Doing the same, but slightly inclining the head during that
action.--4. The same as the preceding, but inclining the body also.--5.
As above, but previously touching the ground with the right hand.--6.
Kissing the hand of the person to whom the obeisance is paid.--7.
Kissing his sleeve.--8. Kissing the skirt of his clothing.--9. Kissing
his feet.--10. Kissing the carpet or ground before him.--The first five
modes are often accompanied by the salutation of "Peace be on you:" to
which the reply is, "On you be peace and the mercy of God and his
blessings." The sixth mode is observed by servants or pupils to masters,
by the wife to the husband, and by children to their father and
sometimes to the mother. The last mode is seldom observed but to kings;
and in Arabian countries it is now very uncommon.
[137] Ḥalbet el-Kumeyt, chap. vii.
[138] Mir-át ez-Zemán, events of 305.
[139] Ḥalbet el-Kumeyt, chap. viii.
[140] The art here mentioned was first made known to Europeans by a
Frenchman, M. Du Vigneau, in a work entitled "Secrétaire Turc, contenant
l'Art d'exprimer ses pensées sans se voir, sans se parler, et sans
s'écrire:" Paris, 1688: in-12. Von Hammer has also given an interesting
paper on this subject in the "Mines de l'Orient," No. 1: Vienna, 1809.
(Note to Marcel's "Contes du Cheykh El-Mohdy," iii. 327, 328: Paris,
1833.)
[141] Called "ghásool el-azrár." In Delile's Flora Ægyptiaca, the name
of ghásool is given to the mesembryanthemum nodiflorum, class
icosandria, order pentagynia.
[142] This name is now given to sherbet.
[143] Ḥalbet el-Kumeyt, chap. x.
[144] Ḳur. xxviii. 19.
[145] Ḳur. v. 27.
[146] Ḳur. xxvii. 16.
[147] Manṭiḳ eṭ-ṭeyr.
[148] Alcoranus Marraccii, p. 511.
[149] El-Isḥáḳee; reign of the Khaleefeh El-Musta´een, the son of
El-Moạtaṣim.