I left Tangier, my birthplace, on Thursday, 2nd Rajab, 725 [14th June, 1325], being at that time twenty-two [lunar] years of age, with the intention of making the Pilgrimage to the Holy House [at Mecca] and the Tomb of the Prophet [at Madína]. I set out alone, finding no companion to cheer the way with friendly intercourse, and no party of travellers with whom to associate myself. Swayed by an overmastering impulse within me, and a long-cherished desire to visit those glorious sanctuaries, I resolved to quit all my friends and tear myself away from my home. As my parents were still alive, it weighed grievously upon me to part from them, and both they and I were afflicted with sorrow.
On reaching the city of Tilimsán [Tlemsen], whose sultan at that time was Abú Táshifín, I found there two ambassadors of the Sultan of Tunis, who left the city on the same day that I arrived. One of the brethren having advised me to accompany them, I consulted the will of God in this matter, and after a stay of three days in the city to procure all that I needed, I rode after them with all speed. I overtook them at the town of Miliána, where we stayed ten days, as both ambassadors fell sick on account of the summer heats. When we set out again, one of them grew worse, and died after we had stopped for three nights by a stream four miles from Miliána. I left their party there and pursued my journey, with a company of merchants from Tunis. On reaching al-jazá’ir [Algiers] we halted outside the town for a few days, until the former party rejoined us, when we went on together through the Mitíja to the mountain of Oaks [Jurjúra] and so reached Bijáya [Bougie]. The commander of Bijáya at this time was the chamberlain Ibn Sayyid an-Nás. Now one of the Tunisian merchants of our party had died leaving three thousand dinars of gold, which he had entrusted to a certain man of Algiers to deliver to his heirs at Tunis. Ibn Sayyid an-Nás came to hear of this and forcibly seized the money. This was the first instance I witnessed of the tyranny of the agents of the Tunisian government. At Bijáya I fell ill of a fever, and one of my friends advised me to stay there till I recovered. But I refused, saying, “If God decrees my death, it shall be on the road with my face set toward Mecca.” “If that is your resolve,” he replied, “sell your ass and your heavy baggage, and I shall lend you what you require. In this way you will travel light, for we must make haste on our journey, for fear of meeting roving Arabs on the way.” I followed his advice and he did as he had promised—may God reward him! On reaching Qusantínah [Constantine] we camped outside the town, but a heavy rain forced us to leave our tents during the night and take refuge in some houses there. Next day the governor of the city came to meet us. Seeing my clothes all soiled by the rain he gave orders that they should be washed at his house, and in place of my old worn headcloth sent me a headcloth of fine Syrian cloth, in one of the ends of which he had tied two gold dinars. This was the first alms I received on my journey. From Qusantínah we reached Bona where, after staying in the town for several days, we left the merchants of our party on account of the dangers of the road, while we pursued our journey with the utmost speed. I was again attacked by fever, so I tied myself in the saddle with a turban-cloth in case I should fall by reason of my weakness. So great was my fear that I could not dismount until we arrived at Tunis. The population of the city came out to meet the members of our party, and on all sides greetings and questions were exchanged, but not a soul greeted me as no one there was known to me. I was so affected by my loneliness that I could not restrain my tears and wept bitterly, until one of the pilgrims realized the cause of my distress and coming up to me greeted me kindly and continued to entertain me with friendly talk until I entered the city.
The Sultan of Tunis at that time was Abú Yahyá, the son of Abú Zakaríya II, and there were a number of notable scholars in the town. During my stay the festival of the Breaking of the Fast fell due, and I joined the company at the Praying-ground. The inhabitants assembled in large numbers to celebrate the festival, making a brave show and wearing their richest apparel. The Sultan Abú Yahyá arrived on horseback, accompanied by all his relatives, courtiers, and officers of state walking on foot in a Stately procession. After the recital of the prayer and the conclusion of the Allocution the people returned to their homes.
Some time later the pilgrim caravan for the Hijáz was formed, and they nominated me as their qádí (Judge). We left Tunis early in November, following the coast road through Súsa, Sax, and Qábis, where we stayed for ten days on account of incessant rains. Thence we set out for Tripoli, accompanied for several stages by a hundred or more horsemen as well as a detachment of archers, out of respect for whom the Arabs kept their distance. I had made a contract of marriage at Sfax with the daughter of one of the syndics at Tunis, and at Tripoli she was conducted to me, but after leaving Tripoli I became involved in a dispute with her father, which necessitated my separation from her. I then married the daughter of a Student from Fez, and when she was conducted to me I detained the caravan for a day by entertaining them all at a wedding party.
At length on April 5th (1326) we reached Alexandria. It is a beautiful city, well-built and fortified with four gates and a magnificent port. Among all the ports in the world I have seen none to equal it except Kawlam [Quilon] and Cálicút in India, the port of the infidels [Genoese] at Súdáq in the land of the Turks, and the port of Zaytún in China, all of which will be described later. I went to see the lighthouse on this occasion and found one of its faces in ruins. It is a very high square building, and its door is above the level of the earth. Opposite the door, and of the same height, is a building from which there is a plank bridge to the door; if this is removed there is no means of entrance. Inside the door is a place for the lighthouse-keeper, and within the lighthouse there are many chambers. The breadth of the passage inside is nine spans and that of the wall ten spans; each of the four sides of the lighthouse is 140 spans in breadth. It is situated on a high mound and lies three miles from the city on a long tongue of land which juts out into the sea from close by the city wall, so that the lighthouse cannot be reached by land except from the city. On my return to the West in the year 750 [1349] I visited the lighthouse again, and found that it had fallen into so ruinous a condition that it was not possible to enter it or climb up to the door. AI-Malik an-Násir had started to build a similar lighthouse alongside it but was prevented by death from completing the work. Another of the marvellous things in this city is the awe-inspiring marble column in its outskirts which they call the “Pillar of Columns.” It is a single block, skilfully carved, erected on a plinth of square stones like enormous platforms, and no one knows how it was erected there nor for certain who erected it.
One of the learned men of Alexandria was the qádí, a master of eloquence, who used to wear a turban of extraordinary size. Never either in the eastern or the western lands have I seen a more voluminous headgear. Another of them was the pious ascetic Burhán ad-Dín, whom I met during my stay and whose hospitality I enjoyed for three days. One day as I entered his room he said to me “I see that you are fond of travelling through foreign lands.” I replied “Yes, I am “ (though I had as yet no thought of going to such distant lands as India or China). Then he said “You must certainly visit my brother Faríd ad-Dín in India, and my brother Rukn ad-Dín in Sind, and my brother Burhán ad-Dín in China, and when you find them give them greeting from me.” I was amazed at his prediction, and the idea of going to these countries having been cast into my mind, my journeys never ceased until I had met these three that he named and conveyed his greeting to them.
During my stay at Alexandria I had heard of the pious Shaykh al-Murshidí, who bestowed gifts miraculously created at his desire. He lived in solitary retreat in a cell in the country where he was visited by princes and ministers. Parties of men in all ranks of life used to come to him every day and he would supply them all with food. Each one of them would desire to eat some flesh or fruit or sweetmeat at his cell, and to each he would give what he had suggested though it was frequently out of season. His fame was carried from mouth to mouth far and wide, and the Sultan too had visited him several times in his retreat. I set out from Alexandria to seek this shaykh and passing through Damanhúr came to Fawwá [Fua] a beautiful township, close by which, separated from it by a canal, lies the shaykh’s cell. I reached this cell about mid-afternoon, and on saluting the shaykh I found that he had with him one of the sultan’s aides-de-camp, who had encamped with his troops just outside. The shaykh rose and embraced me, and calling for food invited me to eat. When the hour of the afternoon prayer arrived he set me in front as prayer-leader, and did the same on every occasion when we were together at the times of prayer during my stay. When I wished to sleep he said to me “Go up to the roof of the cell and sleep there” (this was during the summer heats). I said to the officer “In the name of God,” but he replied [quoting from the Qur’an] “There is none of us but has an appointed place.” So I mounted to the roof and found there a straw mattress and a leather mat, a water vessel for ritual ablutions, a jar of water and a drinking-cup, and I lay down there to sleep.
That night, while I was sleeping on the roof of the cell, I dreamed that I was on the wing of a great bird which was flying with me towards Mecca, then to Yemen, then eastwards, and thereafter going towards the south, then flying far eastwards, and finally landing in a dark and green country, where it left me. I was astonished at this dream and said to myself “If the shaykh can interpret my dream for me, he is all that they say he is.” Next morning, after all the other visitors had gone, he called me and when I had related my dream interpreted it to me saying: “You will make the pilgrimage [to Mecca] and visit [the Tomb of] the Prophet, and you will travel through Yemen, ‘Iráq, the country of the Turks, and India. You will stay there for a long time and meet there my brother Dilshád the Indian, who will rescue you from a danger into which you will fall.” Then he gave me a travelling-provision of small cakes and money, and I bade him farewell and departed. Never since parting from him have I met on my journeys aught but good fortune, and his blessings have stood me in good stead.
We rode from here to Damietta through a number of towns, in each of which we visited the principal men of religion. Damietta lies on the bank of the Nile, and the people in the houses next to the river draw water from it in buckets. Many of the houses have steps leading down to the river. Their sheep and goats are allowed to pasture at liberty day and night; for this reason the saying goes of Damietta, “Its walls are sweetmeats and its dogs are sheep.” Anyone who enters the city may not afterwards leave it except by the governor’s seal. Persons of repute have a seal stamped on a piece of paper so that they may show it to the gatekeepers; other persons have the seal stamped on their forearms. In this city there are many seabirds with extremely greasy flesh, and the milk of its buffaloes is unequalled for sweetness and pleasant taste. The fish called búrí is exported thence to Syria, Anatolia, and Cairo. The present town is of recent construction; the old city was that destroyed by the Franks in the time of al-Malik as-Sálih.
From Darnietta I travelled to Fáriskúr, which is a town on the bank of the Nile, and halted outside it. Here I was overtaken by a horseman who had been sent after me by the governor of Damietta. He handed me a number of coins, saying to me “The Governor asked for you, and on being informed about you, he sent you this gift”—may God reward him! Thence I travelled to Ashmún, a large and ancient town on a canal derived from the Nile. It possesses a wooden bridge at which all vessels anchor, and in the afternoon the baulks are lifted and the vessels pass up and down. From here I went to Samannúd, whence I journeyed upstream to Cairo, between a continuous succession of towns and villages. The traveller on the Nile need take no provision with him, because whenever he desires to descend on the bank he may do so, for ablutions, prayers, provisioning, or any other purpose. There is an uninterrupted chain of bazaars from Alexandria to Cairo, and from Cairo to Assuan in Upper Egypt.
I arrived at length at Cairo, mother of cities and seat of Pharaoh the tyrant, mistress of broad regions and fruitful lands, boundless in multitude of buildings, peerless in beauty and splendour, the meeting-place of comer and goer, the halting-place of feeble and mighty, whose throngs surge as the waves of the sea, and can scarce be contained in her for all her size and capacity. It is said that in Cairo there are twelve thousand water-carriers who transport water on camels, and thirty thousand hirers of mules and donkeys, and that on the Nile there are thirty-six thousand boats belonging to the Sultan and his subjects, which sail upstream to Upper Egypt and downstream to Alexandria and Damietta, laden with goods and profitable merchandise of all kinds. On the bank of the Nile opposite Old Cairo is the place known as The Garden, which is a pleasure park and promenade, containing many beautiful gardens, for the people of Cairo are given to pleasure and amusements. I witnessed a fete once in Cairo for the sultan’s recovery from a fractured hand; all the merchants decorated their bazaars and had rich stuffs, ornaments and silken fabrics hanging in their shops for several days. The mosque of ‘Amr is highly venerated and widely celebrated. The Friday service is held in it, and the road runs through it from east to west. The madrasas [college mosques] of Cairo cannot be counted for multitude. As for the Máristán [hospital], which lies “between the two castles” near the mausoleum of Sultan Qalá’ún, no description is adequate to its beauties. It contains an innumerable quantity of appliances and medicaments, and its daily revenue is put as high as a thousand dinars.
There are a large number of religious establishments (“convents”), which they call khánqahs, and the nobles vie with one another in building them. Each of these is set apart for a separate school of darwíshes, mostly Persians, who are men of good education and adepts in the mystical doctrines. Each has a superior and a doorkeeper and their affairs are admirably organized. They have many special customs, one of which has to do with their food. The steward of the house comes in the morning to the darwíshes, each of whom indicates what food he desires, and when they assemble for meals, each person is given his bread and soup in a separate dish, none sharing with another. They eat twice a day. They are each given winter clothes and summer clothes, and a monthly allowance of from twenty to thirty dirhams. Every Thursday night they receive sugar cakes, soap to wash their clothes, the price of a bath, and oil for their lamps. These men are celibate; the married men have separate convents.
At Cairo too is the great cemetery of al-Qaráfa, which is a place of peculiar sanctity, and contains the graves of innumerable scholars and pious believers. In the Qaráfa the people build beautiful pavilions surrounded by walls, so that they look like houses. They also build chambers and hire Qur’an-readers, who recite night and day in agreeable voices. Some of them build religious houses and madrasas beside the mausoleums and on Thursday nights they go out to spend the night there with their children and women-folk, and make a circuit of the famous tombs. They go out to spend the night there also on the “Night of mid-Sha’bán,” and the market-people take out all kinds of eatables. Among the many celebrated sanctuaries [in the city] is the holy shrine where there reposes the head of al-Husayn. Beside it is a vast monastery of striking construction, on the doors of which there are silver rings and plates of the same metal.
The Egyptian Nile surpasses all rivers of the earth in sweetness of taste, length of course, and utility. No other river in the world can show such a continuous series of towns and villages along its banks, or a basin so intensely cultivated. Its course is from south to north, contrary to all the other [great] rivers. One extraordinary thing about it is that it begins to rise in the extreme hot weather, at the time when rivers generally diminish and dry up, and begins to subside just when rivers begin to increase and overflow. The river Indus resembles it in this feature. The Nile is one of the five great rivers of the world, which are the Nile, Euphrates, Tigris, Syr Darya and Amu Darya; five other rivers resemble these, the Indus, which is called Panj Áb [i.e. Five Rivers], the river of India which is called Gang [Ganges]—it is to it that the Hindus go on pilgrimage, and when they burn their dead they throw the ashes into it, and they say that it comes from Paradise—the river Jún [Jumna, or perhaps Brahmaputra] in India, the river Itil [Volga] in the Qipchaq steppes, on the banks of which is the city of Sará, and the river Sarú [Hoang-Ho] in the land of Cathay. All these will be mentioned in their proper places, if God will. Some distance below Cairo the Nile divides into three streams, none of which can be crossed except by boat, winter or summer. The inhabitants of every township have canals led of the Nile; these are filled when the river is in flood and carry the water over the fields.
From Cairo I travelled into Upper Egypt, with the intention of crossing to the Hijáz. On the first night I stayed at the monastery of Dayr at-Tín, which was built to house certain illustrious relics—a fragment of the Prophet’s wooden basin and the pencil with which he used to apply kohl, the awl he used for sewing his sandals, and the Qur’an belonging to the Caliph ‘Ali written in his own hand. These were bought, it is said, for a hundred thousand dirhams by the builder of the monastery, who also established funds to supply food to all comers and to maintain the guardians of the sacred relics. Thence my way lay through a number of towns and villages to Munyat ibn Khasíb [Minia], a large town which is built on the bank of the Nile, and most emphatically excels all the other towns of Upper Egypt. I went on through Manfalút, Asyút, Ikhmím, where there is a berba with sculptures and inscriptions which no one can now read—another of these berbas there was pulled down and its stones used to build a madrasa—Qiná, Qús, where the governor of Upper Egypt resides, Luxor, a pretty little town containing the tomb of the pious ascetic Abu’l-Hajjáj, Esná, and thence a day and a night’s journey through desert country to Edfú. Here we crossed the Nile and, hiring camels, journeyed with a party of Arabs through a desert, totally devoid of settlements but quite safe for travelling. One of our halts was at Humaythira, a place infested with hyenas. All night long we kept driving them away, and indeed one got at my baggage, tore open one of the sacks, pulled out a bag of dates, and made off with it. We found the bag next morning, torn to pieces and with most of the contents eaten.
After fifteen days’ travelling we reached the town of Aydháb, a large town, well supplied with milk and fish; dates and grain are imported from Upper Egypt. Its inhabitants are Bejás. These people are black-skinned; they wrap themselves in yellow blankets and tie headbands about a fingerbreadth wide round their heads. They do not give their daughters any share in their inheritance. They live on camels’ milk and they ride on Mehárís [dromedaries]. One-third of the city belongs to the Sultan of Egypt and two-thirds to the King of the Bejás, who is called al-Hudrubí. On reaching Aydháb we found that al-Hudrubí was engaged in warfare with the Turks [i.e. the troops of the Sultan of Egypt], that he had sunk the ships and that the Turks had fled before him. It was impossible for us to attempt the sea-crossing, so we sold the provisions that we had made ready for it, and returned to Qús with the Arabs from whom we had hired the camels. We sailed thence down the Nile (it was at the flood time) and after an eight days’ journey reached Cairo, where I stayed only one night, and immediately set out for Syria. This was in the middle of July, 1326.
Translated by H. A. R. Gibb1
If there is rain may it enrich you
She has consented to
The Andalusian hour
Which drifts through sleep vaguely,
Your meeting, remote profit
Of prying irises
The time is flying pennants,
Tatters of wishes,
Pointing a track for you
Where driblets of lovers skip in the season.
Hesitation like a beam
Opens the lip of flowers
The anemones repeat the lessens
Of the water between clouds
Talking the language of classrooms
Dear to the few who gathered from far
Framed by dark, the garden still is lit
By luminous stones within. A star
Brims out of a black cup. Falls
Felicitous, sheer, unacquainted
With any unchastity but haste.
Here what is sociable is still sweet
Mornings still career like lancers
And out of caves the meteors gashed
Steam is just climbing, the eyes
Of flowers just turning into queens.
A garden broader than the hills
Found enough fidelity in the world
To hide itself there.
Translated by Herbert Howarth and Ibrahim Shakrullah106
Prolegomena showing the excellence of the science of History, establishing the methods proper to it, and glancing at the errors into which Historians fall, together with some account of their causes.
Know that the science of History is noble in its conception, abounding in instruction, and exalted in its aim. It acquaints us with the characteristics of the ancient peoples, the ways of life followed by the prophets, and the dynasties and government of kings, so that those who wish may draw valuable lessons for their guidance in religious and worldly affairs.
The student of History, however, requires numerous sources of information and a great variety of knowledge; he must consider well and examine carefully in order to arrive at the truth and avoid errors and pitfalls. If he rely on bare tradition, without having thoroughly grasped the principles of common experience, the institutes of government, the nature of civilisation, and the circumstances of human society, and without judging what is past and invisible by the light of what is present before his eyes, then he will often be in danger of stumbling and slipping and losing the right road. Many errors committed by historians, commentators, and leading traditionists in their narrative of events have been caused by their reliance on mere tradition, which they have accepted without regard to its (intrinsic) worth, neglecting to refer it to its general principles, judge it by its analogies, and test it by the standard of wisdom, knowledge of the natures of things, and exact historical criticism. Thus they have gone astray from the truth and wandered in the desert of imagination and error. Especially is this the case in computing sums of money and numbers of troops, when such matters occur in their narratives; for here falsehood and exaggeration are to be expected, and one must always refer to general principles and submit to the rules (of probability). For example, Mas’údí and many other historians relate that Moses—On whom be peace!—numbered the armies of the Israelites in the wilderness, after he had reviewed all the men capable of bearing arms who were twenty years old or above that age, and that they amounted to 600,000 or more. Now, in making this statement he forgot to consider whether Egypt and Syria are large enough to support armies of that size, for it is a fact attested by well-known custom and familiar experience that every kingdom keeps for its defence only such a force as it can maintain and furnish with rations and pay. Moreover, it would be impossible for armies so huge to march against each other or fight, because the territory is too limited in extent to allow of it, and because, when drawn up in ranks, they would cover a space twice or three times as far as the eye can reach, if not more. How should these two hosts engage in battle, or one of them gain the victory, when neither wing knows anything of what is happening on the other? The present time bears witness to the truth of my observations: water is not so like to water as the future to the past.
The Persian Empire was much greater than the kingdom of the Israelites, as appears from the conquest of the latter by Nebuchadnezzar, who attacked their country, made himself master of their dominions, and laid waste Jerusalem, the chief seat of their religion and power, although he was only the governor of a Persian province: it is said that he was the satrap of the western frontiers. The Persians ruled over the two ‘Iráḳs, Khurásán, Transoxania, and the lands opening on the Caspian Sea—an empire far more extensive than that of the Israelites; yet their armies never equalled or even approached the number mentioned above. Their army at Ḳádisíya, the greatest they ever mustered, was 120,000 strong, and each of these was accompanied by a retainer. Saif, by whom this is related, adds, that the whole force exceeded 200,000. According to ‘Á’isha and Zuhrí, the troops under Rustam who were opposed to Sa’d at Ḳádisíya were only 60,000 strong, each man having a follower.
Again, if the Israelites had reached this total, vast would have been the extent of their kingdom and wide the range of their power. Provinces and kingdoms are small or great in proportion to the numbers of their soldiery and population, as we shall explain in the chapter concerning empires in the First Book. Now, it is well-known that the territories of the Israelites did not extend, in Syria, beyond al-Urdunn and Palestine, and in the Ḥijáz, beyond the districts of Yathrib (Medina) and Khaibar.
Furthermore, according to the trustworthy authorities, there were only four fathers (generations) between Moses and Israel. Moses was the son of ‘Imrán the son of Yas-hur the son of Káhat or Káhit the son of Láwí or Láwá the son of Jacob or Isrá’ilu ‘llah (Israel of God). This is his genealogy as given in the Pentateuch. The length of time separating them is recorded by Mas’údí, who says that when Israel entered Egypt and came to Joseph with his sons, the (twelve) Patriarchs and their children, seventy persons in all, they abode in Egypt under the dominion of the Pharaohs, the kings of the Copts, two hundred and twenty years until they went forth into the wilderness with Moses, on whom be peace. It is incredible that in the course of four generations their offspring should have multiplied so enormously.
2
That being so, the rule for distinguishing the true from the false in history is based on possibility or impossibility; that is to say, we must examine human society, by which I mean civilisation, and discriminate between the characteristics essential to it and inherent in its nature and those which are accidental and unimportant, recognising further those which cannot possibly belong to it. If we do that, we shall have a canon for separating historical fact and truth from error and falsehood by a method of proof that admits of no doubt; and then, if we hear an account of any of the things that happen in civilised society, we shall know how to distinguish what we judge to be worthy of acceptance from what we judge to be spurious, having in our hands an infallible criterion which enables historians to verify whatever they relate.
Such is the purpose of the First Book of the present work. And it would seem that this is an independent science. For it has a subject, namely, human civilisation and society; and problems, namely, to explain in succession the accidental features and essential characters of civilisation. This is the case with every science, the intellectual as well as those founded on authority.
The matter of the following discourse is novel, original, and instructive. I have discovered it by dint of deep thought and research. It appertains not to the science of oratory, which is only concerned with such language as will convince the multitude and be useful for winning them over to an opinion or persuading them to reject the same. Nor, again, does it form part of the science of civil government, i.e. the proper regulation of a household or city in accordance with moral and philosophical laws, in order that the people may be led to live in a way that tends to preserve and perpetuate the species. These two sciences may resemble it, but its subject differs from theirs. It appears to be a new invention; and indeed I have not met with a discourse upon it by any one in the world. I do not know whether this is due to their neglect of the topic—and we need not think the worse of them for that—or whether, perhaps, they may have treated it exhaustively in books that have not come down to us. Amongst the races of mankind the sciences are many and the savants numerous, and the knowledge we have lost is greater in amount than all that has reached us. What has become of the sciences of the Persians, whose writings were destroyed by ‘Umar (may God be well-pleased with him!) at the time of the conquest? Where are those of Chaldaea, Assyria, and Babylonia, with all that they produced and left behind them? Where are those of the Copts and of peoples yet more ancient? We have received the sciences of but one nation, the Greeks, and that only because Ma’mún took pains to have their books translated from the language in which they were composed. He was enabled to do this, by finding plenty of translators and expending large sums on the work. Of the sciences of other peoples we know nothing.
* * *
Now we shall set forth in this Book the various features of civilisation as they appear in human society: kingship, acquisition of wealth, the sciences, and the arts. We shall employ demonstrative methods to verify and elucidate the knowledge spread amongst all classes, to refute false opinions, and to remove uncertainties.
Man is distinguished from the other animals by attributes peculiar to himself. Amongst these are:
(1) The sciences and arts produced by the faculty of reflection, which distinguishes men from the animals and exalts him above the rest of created beings.
(2) The need for an authority to restrain and a government to coerce him. Of the animals he is the only one that cannot exist without this. As for what is said concerning bees and locusts, even if they have something of the sort, they have it by instinct, not from reflection and consideration.
(3) The labour and industry which supply him with diverse ways and means of obtaining a livelihood, inasmuch as God has made nourishment necessary to him for the maintenance of his life and has directed him to seek it and search after it. “He gave unto all things their nature: then He directed.”
(4) Civilisation, i.e. settling down and dwelling together in a city or in tents for the sake of social intercourse and for the satisfaction of their needs, because men are naturally disposed to help each other to subsist, as we shall explain presently. This civilisation is either nomadic (badawí) or residential (ḥaḍarí). The former is found in steppes and mountains, among the pastoral tribes of the desert and the inhabitants of remote sands; the latter in towns, villages, cities, and cultivated tracts, whither men resort for safety and in order to be protected by walls. In all these circumstances it exhibits the phenomena characteristic of a social state. Accordingly, the matter of this Book must be comprised in six chapters:
(i) Human society in general, its various divisions, and the part of the earth which it occupies.
(ii) Nomadic civilisation, with an account of the wild tribes and peoples.
(iii) Dynasties, the Caliphate, kingship, and the high offices of government.
(iv) The settled civilisation of countries and cities. Crafts, means of livelihood, and the various ways of making money.
(v) The sciences, and how they are acquired and learned.
3
The tribes of the desert are kept off from each other by the authority of their chiefs and elders, whom they respect greatly. For the defence of their encampments against a foreign enemy, each tribe has a troop of warriors and knights famous for their prowess; but they would not make a firm resistance and defence unless they were united by kinship and a feeling of solidarity (‘aṣabíya). That is what renders them so strong and formidable. Esprit de corps and devotion to one’s kin is of supreme importance. The affection which God has put in the hearts of His servants towards those of their own flesh and blood is inherent in human nature: it leads them to help and succour one another and inspires their foes with terror. The Qur’an gives an example in the story of the brothers of Joseph (on whom be peace!), when they said to their father, “If the wolf devour him, when we are banded together (for his protection), we shall be weaklings indeed,” i.e., it is inconceivable that violence should be done to anyone so long as he has devoted partisans. In those who are not drawn together by the bonds of kinship this feeling towards their comrades is seldom aroused; when dark war-clouds threaten disaster, every man will slip away in alarm to look after his own safety, because he fears to be forsaken by his allies. Such a people cannot live in the desert: they would fall an easy prey to any race that attacked them. Now, if this is clear with regard to those dwelling together, who must needs defend and protect themselves, similarly you will see that it holds good in the case of any enterprise that excites hostility, such as the mission of a prophet or the founding of a kingdom or the propaganda of a sect. An object of this kind is only attained by fighting for it, since opposition is natural to man; and in order to fight with success, there must be a feeling of solidarity as we said just now. Let this principle be your guide in perusing the observations which we are about to make. God aids us to arrive at the truth.
4
On the inability of the Arabs to establish an empire unless they are imbued with religion by a prophet or a saint, or generally inspired by religious enthusiasm.
The reason of this is that, being naturally wild, they are of all peoples the most reluctant to submit to one another owing to the rudeness of their manners, their arrogance, their high spirit, and their jealousy of authority. Seldom, therefore, are they unanimous. But when they follow a prophet or a saint, they are restrained by something within themselves; their pride and jealousy depart from them, submission and concord are no longer difficult. Religion brings them together: it takes away their rudeness and insolence, it removes envy and jealousy from their hearts. If there be among them the prophet or saint who urges them to fulfil the command of God, and requires that they shall abandon their evil ways and cleave to the good, and bids them be of one voice to make the truth prevail, they will become completely united and gain victory and empire. Moreover, no people is so quick to receive the truth and the right. Their natures are uncorrupted by vicious habits and free from base qualities; and as for their savagery, it is conformable and adaptable to good in consequence of its having preserved the original constitution of man (which renders him capable of accepting the true religion), and because it is remote from the bad habits and dispositions which stamp themselves on men’s souls. For, according to the Apostolic Tradition already quoted, “Every one is born with a capacity for receiving the truth.”
5
Showing that empires, like individuals, have their natural term of life.
You must know that physicians and astrologers declare the natural life of man to be a hundred and twenty years of the kind which astrologers call “the greatest years of the moon”; but it varies in every race according to the conjunctions of the planets, so that sometimes it is more than this and sometimes less. Those born under certain planetary conjunctions live a full century, others fifty years or seventy or eighty; and stargazers believe that all this is indicated by the position of the heavenly bodies. In the Moslem community, as is recorded in Traditions of the Prophet, life runs to sixty or seventy years. The natural life, i.e. 120 years, is rarely exceeded: such cases as that of Noah (on whom be peace!), and a few of the people of ‘Ád and Thamúd, depend on extraordinary positions in the celestial sphere. The lives of empires, too, vary according to the conjunctions of the planets; but as a rule an empire does not last more than three generations—reckoning a generation as the middle life of an individual, i.e. 40 years, a period which marks the end of the body’s growth and development: God has said, “Until when he reaches his age of strength and attains unto forty years…” For this reason we said that the length of a generation is the (middle) life of an individual. Our statement is confirmed by what we have already mentioned touching the Divine wisdom which decreed that the Israelites should pass forty years in the wilderness, and the purpose thereof, namely, that the generation then living might decease and another grow up, which had never known the abasement (of slavery). That indicates that forty years, which is the (middle) life of an individual, is the length of a generation.
An empire, as we remarked, seldom outlives three generations. The first maintains its nomadic character, its rude and savage ways of life; inured to hardships, brave, fierce, and sharing renown with each other, the tribesmen preserve their solidarity in full vigour; their swords are kept sharp, their attack is feared, and their neighbours vanquished. With the second generation comes a change. Possessing dominion and affluence, they turn from nomadic to settled life, and from hardship to ease and plenty. The authority, instead of being shared by all, is appropriated by one, while the rest, too spiritless to make an effort to regain it, abandon the glory of ambition for the shame of subjection. Their solidarity is weakened in some degree; yet one may notice that notwithstanding the indignity to which they submit, they retain much of what they have known and witnessed in the former generation—the feelings of fierceness and pride, the desire for honour, and the resolution to defend themselves and repulse their foes. These qualities they cannot lose entirely, though a part be gone. They hope to become again such men as their fathers were, or they fancy that the old virtues still survive amongst them.
In the third generation the wandering life and rough manners of the desert are forgotten, as though they had never been. At this stage men no longer take delight in glory and patriotism, since all have learned to bow under the might of a sovereign and are so addicted to luxurious pleasures that they have become a burden on the state; for they require protection like the women and young boys. Their national spirit is wholly extinguished; they have no stomach for resistance, defence, or attack. Nevertheless they impose on the people by their (military) appearance and uniform, their horsemanship, and the address with which they manœuvre. It is but a false show: they are in general greater cowards than the most helpless women, and will give way at the first assault. The monarch in those days must needs rely on the bravery of others, enroll many of the clients (freedmen), and recruit soldiers capable, to some extent, of guarding the empire, until God proclaims the hour of its destruction and it falls with everything that it upholds. Thus do empires age and decay in the course of three generations.
Translated by R. A. Nicholson3
A sign of (the qualification of an individual for) royal authority is his eager desire to acquire praiseworthy qualities, and vice versa.
The existence of group feeling without the practice of praiseworthy qualities would be a defect among people who possess a “house” and prestige. All the more so would it be a defect in men who are invested with royal authority, the greatest possible kind of glory and prestige. Furthermore, political and royal authority are (God’s) guarantee to mankind and serve as a representation of God among men with respect to His laws. Now, divine laws affecting men are all for their good and envisage the interests (of men). This is attested by the religious law. Bad laws, on the other hand, all result from stupidity and from Satan, in opposition to the predestination and power of God. He makes both good and evil and predetermines them, for there is no maker except Him.
He who thus obtained group feeling guaranteeing power, and who is known to have good qualities appropriate for the execution of God’s laws concerning His creatures, is ready to act as (God’s) subsitute and guarantor among mankind. He has the qualifications for that. This proof is more reliable and solid than the first one.
It has thus become clear that good qualities attest the (potential) existence of royal authority in a person who (in addition to his good qualities) possesses group feeling. Whenever we observe people who possess group feeling and who have gained control over many lands and nations, we find in them an eager desire for goodness and good qualities, such as generosity, the forgiveness of error, tolerance toward the weak, hospitality toward guests, the support of dependents, maintenance of the indigent, patience in adverse circumstances, faithful fulfillment of obligations, liberality with money for the preservation of honor, respect for the religious law and for the scholars who are learned in it, observation of the things to be done or not to be done that (those scholars) prescribe for them, thinking highly of (religious scholars), belief in and veneration for men of religion and a desire to receive their prayers, great respect for old men and teachers, acceptance of the truth in response to those who call to it, fairness to and care for those who are too weak to take care of themselves, humility toward the poor, attentitiveness to the complaints of supplicants, fulfillment of the duties of the religious law and divine worship in all details, avoidance of fraud, cunning, deceit, and of not fulfilling obligations, and similar things. Thus, we know that these are the qualities of leadership, which (persons qualified for royal authority) have obtained and which have made them deserving of being the leaders of the people under their control, or to be leaders in general. It is something good that God has given them, corresponding to their group feeling and superiority.
Translated by Franz Rosenthal4
At night, when all was still, Antar, mounted on Abjer, and accompanied by his brother Shiboob, departs for the Holy Shrine. As they travelled through the deserts, the hero’s reflections found expression in these verses:
If, O tear! thou canst not relieve me in my sorrow, perhaps thou mayst quench the flame that consumes me,
O heart! if thou wilt not wait patiently for a meeting— die, then, the death of a woe-begone, wandering stranger!
How long must I defy the evils of Fortune, and encounter the vicissitudes of night with the Indian blade?
I serve a tribe, whose hearts are the reverse of what they exhibit in their fondness for me.
I am, in the field, the prince of their tribe; but, the battle over, I am more despised than a slave.
O that could annihilate this affection of a lover! how it humiliates me!—it agonizes my heart—it enfeebles my courage.
But soon will I seek the Sacred Shrine, and complain of my ill-usage to the Judge against whose decrees there lies no appeal.
I will renounce the days when my tears deceived me; and I will aid the widowed and plaintive dove.
On thee, O daughter of Malik! be the peace of God!— the blessing of a sorrowing, heart-grieved lover!
I will depart; but my soul is firm in its love for thee have pity, then; on the cauterised heart of one far away!
Soon will my tribe remember me when the horse advance— every noble warrior trampling and stamping over them:
Then, O daughter of Malik! will agony be plainly evident, when the coward gnaw his hands in death!
Their journey was marked with no particular incident until they drew near Mecca, when Shiboob observed to his brother that it was strange they had met with no adventure on the way. Antar replied that he was harassed with encountering danger; and his heart was disgusted at fighting and he quoted these verses:
Retire within yourself, and be familiar with solitude;
When you are alone, you are in the right road.
Wild beasts are tamed by gentle treatment;
But men are never to be induced to abandon their iniquity.
But presently they hear, in the calmness of the night, a female voice crying out, evidently in sore distress; upon which Antar slackens his bridle, and gallops in the direction whence proceeded the cries. He discovers a lady, who informs him that she is of the noble tribe of Kondeh; her husband, As-Hath, the son of Obad; that a famine having visited their land, they were proceeded, with their family, to the country of Harith, whence they intended to settle, having a daughter married there, when they were attacked by a horseman of the desert, called Sudam, the son of Salheb, with forty plundering Arabs, who had slain her three sons, wounded her husband, and taken herself and her three daughters captive; and that the brigands were about to convey them to the mountains of Toweila, there to sell them as slaves. Consigning the ladies to the care of his brother, Antar grasped his spear, and turned to meet Sudam and his followers, whom he now saw hastily advancing towards him. The hero is assailed by several of the brigands at once, but he cuts them down on either side, and at length encounters Sudam, and, striking him on the breast with his cleaving Dhami, the chief falls to the ground dead, weltering in his blood.
The three damsels and their mother crowd round their deliverer, kissing his hands and thanking him for having saved them from dishonour; and Antar, desiring the damsels to veil themselves, and having bound up the old sheikh’s
wounds, sat down to rest himself after the fatigues of his conflict. The old sheikh, grateful for the good service rendered his family by Antar, offers him his choice of his three daughters but Antar courteously declines the compliment, saying to the damsels:
Were my heart my own, I should desire nothing beyond you—
it would covet nothing but you.
But it loves what tortures it; where no word, no deed encourages it.
Having escorted the old sheikh and his family to the land of Harith, Antar took leave of them, and, in company with Shiboob, proceeded to Mecca. “He alighted in the Sacred Valley, and there he resided; passing his days in hunting to relieve his sorrows and afflictions, and his nights with Shiboob, in talking over old stories and past events.
The friends of Antar were much troubled at his departure, and searched for him in all directions; but his uncle was especially gratified, since it left him free, as he thought, to dispose of Abla; and accordingly she is again betrothed to Amarah—the contract being formed by Abla’s father and Amarah shaking hands. But Prince Malik, grieved at this great injustice to his absent friend, vows that he will never permit Amarah to marry Abla, while he lives to thwart his wicked plans, and those of the maiden’s sordid and crafty father; and he predicts that evil will befall his brother Shas for his share in the infamous transaction.
When the Absians reached the lake of Zat-ul-irsad, Prince Shas with ten horsemen went into the desert in pursuit of the antelope. There they are met by a troop of warriors led by Maisoor, son of Zecad, of the clan of Hazrej, a branch of Harith, and the little band of Absians are all slain, with the exception of Shas, who is taken prisoner, and barbarously treated by Maisoor, whose brother the Prince had killed in the conflict.
Prince Malik and the others arrive in safety at the dwellings of their tribe, and the King is indignant when he learns how the noble Antar has been again deceived by Abla’s father. He severely rebukes him for his scandalous conduct, and causes Amarrah to be scourged as a punishment for espousing Abla, when he knew that she was already betrothed to Antar, and that her father was in possession of the rich dowry which the hero had brought from Irak. The absence of Prince Shas causes the King great uneasiness. Having sent horsemen into the desert in quest of him without success, his affliction increases, and he declares that if Shas is slain, he will strike off the head of Amarah, and hang Malik, the son of Carad, because they had incited his son to act basely towards Antar.
In the meantime Shas is a prisoner in the land of Harith, and daily tortured by Maisoor, who “enclosed him between four bars of iron, and stationed a guard of slaves over him; and whenever he went out he kicked him, and whenever he entered he thumped him with his fists.” The chief of the clan, however, hearing of this shameful treatment of a noble Arab, sends for Maisoor, and advises him to relax his severities towards his prisoner, which he does, in this manner: he hastens back to Shas and unties his hands, but binds his feet: then he kicks him in the rear and places a slave over him.
The unhappy Prince, however, finds a friend in need in the old lady of Kendeh, who, with her family, had been rescued from the brigand Sudam, by Antar, on his way to Mecca. Misfortune had taught Shas a salutary lesson, and he now bitterly repented of his conduct towards the noble hero: he assured the old lady that if ever he gained his freedom he would henceforth befriend Antar, and further his union with Abla. Perceiving the advantages which Antar would derive from the friendship of Shas, the good old lady despatches her husband, As-hath, to Mecca, to acquaint the hero of Shas’ condition.
“With all haste he travelled the plains till he reached Mecca, where he inquired for Antar; and being directed to his residence he introduced himself, and told what had happened to Shas, and how he had left him in despair.— ‘May God never deliver him from peril or death!’ cried Shiboob; ‘for my brother has no such enemy among the Absians as he.’—‘Brother,’ said Antar, ‘bear malice against no man;’ and he repeated these verses:
Do not bear malice, O Shiboob!—renounce it, for no good ever came of malice.
Violence is infamous: its result is ever uncertain, and no one can act justly when actuated by hatred.
Let my heart support every evil, and let my patience endure till I have subdued all my foes.
“When Antar had finished, the old man was amazed at such clemency towards his enemies, strong and powerful as he was. That night they reposed; but early next morning Antar said to As-hath, ‘Let us depart, O Sheikh, before my lord Shas be reduced to the last extremity and be killed.’ The sheikh and Antar were soon mounted, and Shiboob started in front of them, making the wild beasts and antelopes fly before him.”
But before Antar can come to his deliverance, Maisoor has determined to hang Prince Shas without further delay, and the old lady of Kendeh therefore enables him to escape, in the disguise of a slave, directing him to take the road to Mecca. Having rested during the night in a mountain-cave, the Prince resumes his flight at daybreak, and meets with a party of the tribe of Riyan, one of whom mistakes him for a slave who lately stole his horse. He tells them that he is Shas, the son of Zoheir; but unfortunately his captors are enemies of his tribe; and they are about to put him to death, then they discover a man running towards them with the speed of the wind, and close behind him two horsemen. These are Shiboob and the noble Antar and As-hath. The hero, with his sword Dhami, and Shiboob, with his arrows, soon make all the warriors to bite the dust, save one, who escapes on a swift camel.
Prince Shas expresses his contrition to Antar, and promises to make him ample amends for the past. Antar having presented to As-hath all the horses and plunder, the old sheikh takes leave, and departs for his own country; while the hero and Prince Shas begin their journey to the land of Hejaz, with the trusty Shiboob for their guide. On the fifth day they reached the waters of the tribe of Akhram, where they rested for the night. Antar had a delightful dream of his beloved Abla, and in the morning, when he awoke, he thus recited:—
THE dear image of Abla visited in sleep the victim of love, intoxicated with affliction.
I arose to complain of my sufferings from love, and the tears from my eyes bedewed the earth.
I kissed her teeth—I smelled the fragrance of musk and the purest ambergris.
I raised up her veil, and her countenance was brilliant, so that Night became unveiled.
She deigned to smile, and looked most lovely; and I saw in her eye the lustre of the full moon.
She is environed with swords and calamitous spears, and about her dwelling prowls the lion of the land.
O Abla! love for thee lives in my bones, with my blood; as long as life animates my frame, there will it flow.
O Shas! I am persecuted with a deadly passion, and the flame of the fire blazes still fiercer,
O Shas! were not the influence of love over-powering every resolution, thou wouldst not thus have subdued Antar!
Translated by Terrick Hamilton5
When it became known to Rabia that ‘Abla had escaped from the net he had spread for her, his anger was dark as the desert is dark at the approach of a dust storm, dry and menacing and blown on the eastern wind. And Rabia vowed vengeance upon Bashara and plotted also to threaten the lord Zuhair himself with the enmity of King Numan. But at the Abs camp the rejoicing lasted many days, until finally Zuhair, in conference with his sons, Shas, Malik the Prince and Qais, summoned ‘Antar and Sheddad to discuss with them the retrieval of ‘Abla’s jewels, which would in honour have to be restored to the tribe, And Rabia’s name was muttered in contempt by many, but ‘Antar said, in the nobility of his heart, “Nay, my brothers, he gave to temptation as many of us have done before now, and if he but admits his guilt we must not condemn him.” And it was at this time that he wrought the famous poem which begins:
“There is a time for passion
There is a time for forgetting,
O my people, my heart leans towards mercy.”
‘Abla’s father and her brother also approached the lord Zuhair about the jewels, and Zuhair sent Qais to negotiate privately with Rabia, hoping to hide from other tribes the disgrace which Rabia had brought upon them all.
Now Rabia was a witty and resourceful man, and when he was challenged by Qais over the question of the jewels he asked, “Why uncle, what have I to do with this? Ask my fair cousin if she can swear to seeing me either at the lakeside where you say she was abducted, or at the meeting place where last her jewels were seen. She is honesty itself, and I have no fear of her answer.” But Bashara spoke up before Zuhair, saying, “My lord, there is confusion here. For although the two men who set upon me were muffled and spoke little, it happened that when the fair ‘Abla was sheltering in my mother’s tent disguised as a youth, and when I sought out Rabia and found him and Mufarraj, they had discarded their kefiyehs, and I showed them the bloodstained clothes ‘Abla had been wearing, stained now with the blood of a sheep, and I could see the evil pleasure gleaming in Rabia’s eyes, and indeed I shrank before it.” And all believed him.
Then Rabia and his men left camp to avoid further trouble, but fighting nevertheless took place between him and those who supported ‘Antar, and all was shame, chaos and animosity. But Zuhair finally resumed authority and he forced Qais to expel Rabia, and commanded that Shas expel ‘Antar: but as can be imagined, ‘Antar had already left in rage and anguish at the whole ignoble affray.
With him travelled Bashara, carried in a litter after injury in the combat, and Rabiat to care for him, and Sheddad, and ‘Abla and her mother Sheriya, and many others, and they repaid Rabia for his trouble-making by capturing flocks belonging to the Zaiyad and Fazara people. Yet tempers cooled: and finally a conference was held at Rikaya. ‘Antar decided to approach Numan on the matter of the jewels, and to harass those who had aided Rabia in ‘Ablas capture. And Shiboob recommended the safety of the valley Raml, high in the mountain Radm, as a base for this venture. “For this is a country,” said Shiboob, “in which we can find safe shelter and also a bountiful supply of fodder, and even of firewood, and game and birds of many kinds for our nourishment.” And sure enough, after many days, they came upon the Great River, and far beyond it the wooded hill slopes of Iraq, and here they installed themselves in the Raml valley, burning a swathe of trees to render themselves safe from attack. And the fires burned for six days.
When all was secure, and the camp surrounded by a fair space to discourage reckless invaders, ‘Antar travelled on with a hundred and fifty men to seek Mufarraj and the Shaban, leaving Sheddad with but a few men to guard the camp.
Thus was Abs divided by strife and distance, and worse was to come. For Mufarraj learned of the trick by which he had lost his treasure, and his hatred of Bashara and of the Abs almost choked him. He determined to enlist the support of Numan and to fight Zuhair. And war might have followed immediately had it not been that about this time, the lord Numan learned of the incomparable beauty of Mutajerida, daughter of Zuhair and Temadhur, and Numan desired her for his wife.
Numan was influenced by Mufarraj’s anger, which was bitter as water from the Dead Sea, when he received news also of ‘Abla’s escape. And Numan addressed a letter to Zuhair, couched in haughty and undiplomatic terms:
Sire,
We are told by our friend Mufarraj that his property bas been filched from him by a trick, and that the perpetrator of this trick, the slave Bashara, is under your protection. We request that you therefore hand over the slave and restore the property of our friend; and it is our wish that the transfer be made by your own tribe’s servant. ‘Antar the Negro, who is said to have cooperated with the slave Bashara in robbing one who enjoys our protection.
Once this affair is settled, we would approach you, Sire, upon a happier issue, for it is our desire to bind the ties between our two peoples through marriage with your daughter, Mutajerida, of whose beauty we have often heard.
When you have complied with our requests we will consider any demand you may make for a brideprice for your daughter.
Now the arrogance of this letter affronted the lord Zuhair, and he replied briefly that he had no daughter available for marriage, and that had he had one, he would not send her so far from home, nor did he know anything of the property of Numan’s protégé, Mufarraj. He added that his noble nephew ‘Antar was away from the camp, and he sent Numan’s messenger home with nothing but a present of clothing to show for all the long journey and the arrogant demands.
And now the armies of the desert were on the move, for Zuhair advanced against Numan. Rabia enlisted his friend, Hadifa from the Farzara country and Dhalim ibn Harith of the Murra tribe, he who wielded the great sword of Dhu al Hayat, the Lord of Life, heirloom of Jaban ibn Himvar, ruler of the universe. Rabia intended supporting Nuan against both Zuhair and ‘Antar and Mufarraj was ready to join him in the battles to come. And on Numan’s side also was his valiant brother Aswad. But Numan’s resolve was weakened by his desire to marry Mutajerida. And Zuhair’s and ‘Antar’s forces were weakened by separation
So it was that Rabia and Mufarraj were enabled, with a band of men, to steal unperceived in to the sand Raml valley, where Sheddad guarded the camp. And when ‘Antar and his men retuned one evening from a foray with Numan’s scouts, they found only emptiness, and the sound of the warm wind blowing over the aromatic turf; and on the tallest tree the body of Bashara, the beautiful slave, was hanged. And already it had been half devoured by the wheeling vultures.
There was an evil about Bashara’s passing which shocked them all. And they were aghast to find that ‘Abla and all the women, together with Sheddad and his few fighting men, were gone. And afterwards the story was told—how Rabia and Mufarraj had surprised the camp, and had avenged themselves in the hanging of Bashara, and how a greater enemy, sent to the valley by Numan, had then come upon them. Ma’adi Kereb, friend, and supporter of the widowed Jaida whom ‘Antar had wronged, and Jaida herself commanding a fine force. Rabia and Mufarraj had fled and escaped, but Sheddad and the Abs women were taken, and Jaida beat her captives soundly before heading east for Hira. And, indeed, troubles fell thick upon Abs, for the lord Zuhair, leading his forces into battle against Numan’s main army under Aswad, was captured with his fighting men and his old men, his women and children, and his servants, for he had had none to spare guarding camp and all were with him. So of all the Abs tribe, only ‘Antar and a small force were free men.
And now, O my listeners, we hear of the Battle of the Pools of Akhrem. Aswad brought his great host, and his Abs prisoners, across the desert route, and he sent men before him on fast camels to bring water back to the main army, but Shiboob, with a few followers, slipped in among them by night and slit the waterskins. Then Aswad sent a second party of men, but these were now enfeebled by thirst, and ‘Antar seized them and their arms and their camels and their waterskins, and ‘Antar rode by a roundabout way to the rear of Aswad’s army. And there he freed, and refreshed, and armed Zuhair and his men. Whereupon Aswad’s men had to sue for peace if they were to obtain safety and water for survival. Ma’adi Kereb came to their aid indeed, but he and ‘Antar settled the differences between them in single combat and they fought as knights should fight, and parted in friendship and respect, with honour satisfied.
It seemed now that power was balanced between Numan and the Abs, Numan held ‘Abla and her jewels, and Sheriya and Sheddad and other noble men and women. Yet his desire for Mutajerida offset his triumph. Zuhair, with ‘Antar’s help, had defeated Numan’s main army under Aswad—yet he longed in secret to wed his daughter to such a noble and powerful ally. But enmity still lay between the forces, for Numan was ignorant of Rabia’s duplicity and his heart was bitter against ‘Antar to whom his father, Mundhir, had shown such generosity over the flying camels. Yet he was a statesman, and he offered now to exchange his prisoners (despite Jaida’s protests) for Aswad and his menat-arms. And this was arranged. But so grim was ‘Antar’s wrath that, releasing the captives, be stripped them and sent them forth, bare foot, bare headed and naked, even cropping their hair. And, moreover, he gave them no sustenance for their journey to Hira.
Among these men was Dhalim of the Murra tribe, whose son, Harith, was to bring tragedy to all, and ‘Antar might indeed have acted less savagely had he known the outcome of his deeds. But the One God in mercy and justice hides the future from our blind eves.
Numan’s heralds reproached ‘Antar for causing such shame, but ‘Antar rebuked them even more strongly for the ignorance behind their enmity and for their constant abuse. And Shiboob, in furious indignation, produced an old wreck of a camel for Prince Aswad, who, as furiously, refused it. And so the humiliated prisoners reached Hira, and Numan feared that Chosroes would assuredly choose another than himself to subdue these fiery desert men.
Zuhair and his forces, with ‘Abla safe, the jewels recovered and honour restored, could not yet return home since Numan’s armies were still strong enough to bar the way. So he retired to the Valley of the Torrents. Then, gradually, tempers cooled, and only Aswad’s shame and anger lay like a shadow between the opponents. Then Aswad captured Sheddad, and would have killed him in Numan’s presence. Yet did the lord Numan hesitate, and he released Sheddad, and sent him with secret messages to Zuhair, and Zuhair summoned ‘Antar, saying, “Here now, is a chance of a truce between our armies, and of peace strengthened by marriage, between two peoples.” And ‘Antar replied, “O my lord, Numan has released my father and subdued my price by his liberality. As for your daughter, she must surely marry, and could find no nobler match than King Numan, vice-regent to the Emperor Chosroes Nushirvan.”
So it was settled, and the animosity between the two peoples dissipated with the realization of the true causes of their quarrels. Only Aswad could not face his conqueror ‘Antar, and he departed to live among the Fazara, there marrying Miriam, sister of Hadifa, their leader. And there appeared to be peace between Fazara and Abs, but it was a hollow peace.
Then Zuhair at last agreed to the marriage of Numan with his daughter, Mutajerida, and he led his tribe back to their own grazing lands—eager, all of them, to celebrate the marriage of the noble warrior ‘Antar to his fair cousin ‘Abla. And among the tribes this year is known as the year of the two marriages.
Translated by Diana Richmond6
QUOTH she. It hath reached me. O auspicious King, that in times of yore and in ages long gone before, a peacock abode with his wife on the seashore. Now the place was infested with lions and all manner wild beasts, withal it abounded in trees and streams. So, cock and hen were wont to roost by night upon one of the trees, being in fear of the beasts, and went forth by day questing food. And they ceased not thus to do till their fear increased on them and they searched for some place wherein to dwell other than their dwelling-place; and in the course of their search, behold, they happened on an island abounding in streams and trees. So they alighted there and ate of its fruits and drank of its waters. But whilst they were thus engaged, Lo! up came to them a duck in a state of extreme terror, and stayed not, faring forwards till she reached the tree whereon were perched the two peafowl, when she seemed reassured in mind.
The peacock doubted not but that she had some rare story; so he asked her of her case and the cause of her concern, whereto she answered. “I am sick for sorrow, and my horror of the son of Adam; so beware, and again I say beware of the son of Adam!” Rejoined the peacock, “Fear not now that thou hast won our protection:’ Cried the duck, “Alhamdolillah! glory to God, who hath done away my cark and care by means of you being near! For indeed I come of friendship fain with you twain.” And when she had ended her speech the peacock’s wife came down to her and said. “Welcome and fair cheer! No harm shall hurt thee; how can son of Adam come to us and we in this isle which lieth a middlemost of the sea? From the land he cannot reach us, neither can he come against us from the water. So be of good cheer and tell us what hath betided thee from the child of Adam:” Answered the duck. “Know, then, O thou peahen, that of a truth I have dwelt all my life in this island safely and peacefully, nor have I seen any disquieting thing, till one night, as I was asleep, I sighted in my dream the semblance of a son of Adam, who talked with me and I with him. Then I heard a voice say to me, ‘O thou duck, beware of the son of Adam and be not imposed on by his words nor by that he may suggest to thee; for he aboundeth in wiles and guiles; so beware with all wariness of his perfidy, for again I say, he is crafty and right cunning even as singeth of him the poet:
He’ll offer sweetmeats with his edged tongue.
And fox thee with the foxy guile of fox
And know thou that the son of Adam circumventeth the fishes and draweth them forth of the seas; and he shooteth the birds with a pellet of clay, and trappeth the elephant with his craft. None is safe from his mischief and neither bird nor beast escapeth him; and on this wise have I told thee what I have heard concerning the son of Adam.’
“So I awoke, fearful and trembling, and from that hour to this my heart hath not known gladness, for dread of the son of Adam, lest he surprise me unawares by his wile or trap me in his snares. By the time the end of the day overtook me, my strength was grown weak and my spunk failed me; so, desiring to eat and drink, I went forth walking, troubled in spirit and with a heart ill at ease. Now when I reached yonder mountain I saw a tawny lion-whelp at the door of a cave; and sighting me he joyed in me with great joy, for my colour pleased him and my gracious shape; so he cried out to me, saying, ‘Draw nigh unto me.’ I went up to him and he asked me, ‘What is thy name, and what is thy nature?’ Answered I, ‘My name is Duck, and I am of the bird-kind’; and I added, ‘But thou, why tarriest thou in this place till this time?’ Answered the whelp, ‘My father hath for many a day warned me against the son of Adam, and it came to pass this night that I saw in my sleep the semblance of a son of Adam,’ And he went on to tell me the like of that I have told you.
“When I heard these words. I said to him, ‘O lion, I take asylum with thee, that thou mayest kill the son of Adam and be steadfast in resolve to his slaughter; verily I fear him for myself with extreme fear and to my fright affright is added for that thou also dreadest the son of Adam, albeit thou art Sultan of savage beasts.’ Then I ceased not, O my sister, to bid the young lion beware of the son of Adam and urge him to slay him, till he rose of a sudden and at once from his stead and went out and he fared on, and I after him, and I noted him lashing flanks with tail. We advanced in the same order till we came to a place where the roads forked and saw a cloud of dust arise which, presently clearing away, discovered below it a runaway naked ass, now galloping and running at speed and now rolling in the dust, when the lion saw the ass, he cried out to him, and he came up to him in all humility. Then said the lion, ‘Hark ye, crackbrain brute! What is thy kind and what be the cause of thy coming hither?’ He replied. ‘O son of the Sultan! I am by kind an ass—Asinus Caballus—and the cause of my coming to this place is that I am fleeing from the son of Adam.’ Asked the lion-whelp, ‘Dost thou fear then that he will kill thee?’ Answered the ass, ‘Not so, O son of the Sultan, but I dread lest he put a cheat on me and mount upon me; for he hath a thing called Pack-saddle, which he setteth on my back; also a thing called Girths, which he bindeth about my belly; and a thing called Crupper, which he putteth under my tail, and a thing called Bit, which he placeth in my mouth; and he fashioneth me a goad and goadeth me with it and maketh me run more than my strength. If I stumble, he curseth me, and if I bray, he revileth me; and at last, when I grow old and can no longer run, he putteth on me a pannel of wood and delivereth me to the water-carriers, who load my back with water from the river in skins and other vessels, such as jars, and I cease not to wane in misery and abasement and fatigue till I die, when they cast me on the rubbish-heaps to the dogs. So what grief can surpass this grief, and what calamities can be greater than these calamities?’
“Now, when I heard, O peahen, the ass’s words, my skin shuddered, and became as gooseflesh at the son of Adam; and I said to the lion-whelp, ‘O my lord, the ass of a verity hath excuse and his words add terror to my terror.’ Then quoth the young lion to the ass, ‘Whither goest thou?’ Quoth he, ‘Before sunrise I espied the son of Adam afar off, and fled from him; and now I am minded to flee forth and run without ceasing for the greatness of my fear of him, so haply I may find me a place of shelter from the perfidious son of Adam.’ Whilst the ass was thus discoursing with the lion-whelp, seeking the while to take leave of us and go away, behold, appeared to us another cloud of dust, whereat the ass brayed and cried out and looked hard and let fly a loud fart. After a while the dust lifted and discovered a black steed finely dight with a blaze on the forehead like a dirham round and bright, handsomely marked about the hoof with white and with firm strong legs pleasing to sight, and he neighed with affright. This horse ceased not running till he stood before the whelp, the son of the lion who, when he saw him, marvelled and made much of him and said, ‘What is thy kind, O majestic wild beast, and wherefore fleest thou into this desert wide and vast?’
“He replied, ‘O lord of wild beasts, I am a steed of the horse-kind, and the cause of my running is that I am fleeing from the son of Adam.’ The lion-whelp wondered at the horse’s speech and cried to him, ‘Speak not such words, for it is shame to thee, seeing that thou art tall and stout. And how cometh it that thou fearest the son of Adam, thou, with thy bulk of body and thy swiftness of running, when I, for all my littleness of stature, am resolved to encounter the son of Adam and, rushing on him, eat his flesh, that I may allay the affright of this poor duck and make her dwell in peace in her own place? But now thou hast come here and thou hast wrung my heart with thy talk and turned me back from what I had resolved to do, seeing that for all thy bulk, the son of Adam hath mastered thee and hath feared neither thy height nor thy breadth; albeit, wert thou to kick him with one hoof thou wouldst kill him, nor could he prevail against thee, but thou wouldst make him drink the cup of death.’
“The horse laughed when he heard the whelp’s words and replied, ‘Far, far is it from my power to overcome him, O Prince. Let not my length and my breadth nor yet my bulk delude thee with respect to the son of Adam; for that he, of the excess of his guile and his wiles, fashioneth me a thing called Hobble and applieth to my four legs a pair of ropes made of palm fibres bound with felt, and gibbeteth me by the head to a high peg, so that I being tied up remain standing and can neither sit nor lie down. And when he is mindeth to ride me, he bindeth on his feet a thing of iron called Stirrup and layeth on my back another thing called Saddle, which he fasteneth by two Girths passed under my armpits. Then he setteth in my mouth a thing of iron he calleth Bit, to which he tieth a thing of leather called Rein; and, when he sitteth in the saddle on my back, he taketh the rein in his hand and guideth me with it, goading my flanks the while with the shovel-stirrups till he maketh them bleed. So do not ask, O son of our Sultan, the hardships I endure from the son of Adam. And when I grow old and lean and can no longer run swiftly, he selleth me to the miller, who maketh me turn in the mill, and I cease not from turning night and day till I grow decrepit. Then he in turn vendeth me to the knacker, who cutteth my throat and flayeth off my hide and plucketh out my tail, which he selleth to the sieve-maker; and he melteth down my fat for tallow candles.’
“When the young lion heard the horse’s words, his rage and vexation redoubled and he said, ‘When didst thou leave the son of Adam?’ Replied the horse, ‘At mid-day, and he is upon my track.’ Whilst the whelp was thus conversing with the horse, Lo! there rose a cloud of dust and, presently opening out, discovered below it a furious camel gurgling and pawing the earth with his feet and never ceasing so to do till he came up with us. Now, when the lion-whelp saw how big and buxom he was, he took him to be the son of Adam and was about to spring upon him when I said to him, ‘O Prince, of a truth this is not the son of Adam; this be a camel, and he seemeth to be fleeing from the son of Adam.’ As I was thus conversing, O my sister, with the lion-whelp, the camel came up and saluted him; whereupon he returned the greeting and said, ‘What bringeth thee hither?’
“Replied he, ‘I came here fleeing from the son of Adam.’ Quoth the whelp, ‘And thou, with thy huge frame and length and breadth, how cometh it that thou fearest the son of Adam, seeing that with one kick of thy foot thou wouldst kill him?’ Quoth the camel, ‘O son of the Sultan, know that the son of Adam hath subtleties and wiles, which none can withstand nor can any prevail against him, save only Death; for he putteth into my nostrils a twine of goat’s hair he calleth Nose-ring, and over my head a thing he calleth Halter; then he delivereth me to the least of his little children, and the youngling draweth me along by the nose-ring, my size and strength notwithstanding. Then they load me with the heaviest of burdens and go long journeys with me and put me to hard labour through the hours of the night and the day. When I grow old and stricken in years and disabled from working, my master keepeth me not with him, but selleth me to the knacker, who cutteth my throat and vendeth my hide to the tanners and my flesh to the cooks. So do not ask the hardships I suffer from the son of Adam.’
“‘When didst thou leave the son of Adam?’ asked the young lion; and he answered, ‘At sundown, and I suppose that, coming to my place after my departure and not finding me there, he is now in search of me; wherefore let me go, O son of the Sultan, that I may flee into the woods and the wilds!’ Said the whelp, ‘Wait awhile, O camel, till thou see how I will tear him, and give thee to eat of his flesh, whilst I crunch his bones and drink his blood.’ Replied the camel, ‘O King’s son, I fear for thee from the child of Adam, for he is wily and guileful.’ And he began repeating these verses:
‘When the tyrant enters the lieges’ land
Naught remains for the lieges but quick remove!’
“Now, whilst the camel was speaking with the lion-whelp, behold, there rose a cloud of dust which, after a time, opened and showed an old man, scanty of stature and lean of limb; and he bore on his shoulder a basket of carpenter’s tools and on his head a branch of a tree and eight planks. He led little children by the hand and came on at a trotting pace, never stopping till he drew near the whelp. When I saw him, O my sister, I fell down for excess of fear; but the young lion rose and walked forward to meet the carpenter, and when he came up to him the man smiled in his face and said to him, with a glib tongue and in courtly terms, ‘O King who defendeth from harm and lord of the long arm, Allah prosper thine evening and thine endeavouring and increase thy valiancy and strengthen thee! Protect me from that which hath distressed me and with its mischief hath oppressed me, for I have found no helper save only thyself.’ And the carpenter stood in his presence, weeping and wailing and complaining.
“When the whelp heard his sighing and his crying he said, ‘I will succour thee from that thou fearest. Who hath done thee wrong, and what art thou, O wild beast, whose like in my life I never saw, nor ever espied one goodlier of form or more eloquent of tongue than thee? What is thy case?’ Replied the man, ‘O lord of wild beasts, as to myself, I am a carpenter; but as to who hath wronged me, verily he is a son of Adam, and by break of dawn after this coming night he will be with thee in this place.’ When the lion-whelp heard these words of the carpenter, the light was changed to night before his sight and he snorted and roared with ire and his eyes cast forth sparks of fire. Then he cried out, saying, ‘By Allah, I will assuredly watch through this coming night till dawn, nor will I return to my father till I have won my will.’ Then he turned to the carpenter and asked, ‘Of a truth I see thou art short of step and I would not hurt thy feelings for that I am generous of heart; yet do I deem thee unable to keep pace with the wild beasts. Tell me, then, whither thou goest?’ Answered the carpenter, ‘Know that I am on my way to thy father’s Wazir, the lynx; for when he heard that the son of Adam had set foot in this country he feared greatly for himself and sent one of the wild beasts on a message for me, to make him a house wherein he should dwell, that it might shelter him and fend off his enemy from him, so not one of the sons of Adam should come at him. Accordingly, I took up these planks and set forth to find him.’
“Now, when the young lion heard these words, he envied the lynx and said to the carpenter, ‘By my life, there is no help for it but thou make me a house with these planks ere thou make one for Sir Lynx! When thou hast done my work, go to him and make him whatso he wisheth.’ The carpenter replied, ‘O lord of wild beasts, I cannot make thee aught till I have made the lynx what he desireth; then will I return to thy service and build thee a house as a fort to ward thee from thy foe.’ Exclaimed the lion-whelp, ‘By Allah, I will not let thee leave this place till thou build me a house of planks.’ So saying, he made for the carpenter and sprang upon him, thinking to jest with him, and cuffed him with his paw, knocking the basket off his shoulder; and threw him down in a fainting fit, whereupon the young lion laughed at him and said, ‘Woe to thee, O carpenter, of a truth thou art feeble and hast no force; so it is excusable in thee to fear the son of Adam.’ Now, when the carpenter fell on his back, he waxed exceeding wroth; but he dissembled his wrath for fear of the whelp and sat up and smiled in his face, saying, ‘Well, I will make for thee the house.’
“With this he took the planks he had brought and nailed together the house, which he made in the form of a chest after the measure of the young lion. And he left the door open, for he had cut in the box a large aperture, to which he made a stout cover, and bored many holes therein. Then he took out some newly wrought nails and a hammer and said to the young lion, ‘Enter the house through this opening, that I may fit to thy measure.’ Thereat the Whelp rejoiced and went up to the opening, but saw that it was strait; and the carpenter said to him, ‘Enter and crouch down on thy legs and arms!’ So the whelp did thus and entered the chest, but his tail remained outside. Then he would have drawn back and come out; but the carpenter said to him, ‘Wait patiently a while till I see if there be room for thy tail with thee.’ The young lion did as he was bid, when the carpenter twisted up his tail and, stuffing it into the chest, whipped the lid on to the opening and nailed it down; whereat the whelp cried out and said, ‘O carpenter, what is this narrow house thou hast made me? Let me out, sirrah!’ But the carpenter answered, ‘Far be it, far be it from thy thought! Repentance for past avails naught, and indeed of this place thou shalt not come out.’ He then laughed and resumed, ‘Verily thou art fallen into the trap and from thy duresse there is no escape, O vilest of wild beasts!’ Rejoined the whelp, ‘O my brother, what manner of words are these thou addressest to me?’ The carpenter replied, ‘Know, O dog of the desert! that thou hast fallen into that which thou fearedst. Fate hath upset thee, nor shall caution set thee up.’
“When the Whelp heard these words, O my sister, he knew that this was indeed the very son of Adam, against whom he had been warned by his sire in waking state and by the mysterious Voice in sleeping while; and I also was certified that this was indeed he without doubt; wherefore great fear of him for myself seized me and I withdrew a little apart from him and waited to see what he would do with the young lion. Then I saw, O my sister, the son of Adam dig a pit in that place hard by the chest which held the whelp and throwing the box into the hole, heap dry wood upon it and burn the young lion with fire. At this sight, O sister mine, my fear of the son of Adam redoubled and in my affright I have been these two days fleeing from him.”
But when the peahen heard from the duck this story, she wondered with exceeding wonder and said to her, “O my sister, here thou art safe from the son of Adam, for we are in one of the islands of the sea whither there is no way for the son of Adam; so do thou take up thine abode with us till Allah make easy thy case and our case.” Quoth the duck, “I fear lest some calamity come upon me by night, for no runaway can rid him of fate by flight.” Rejoined the peahen, “Abide with us, and be like unto us”; and ceased not to persuade her, till she yielded, saying, “O my sister, thou knowest how weak is my resistance; but, verily, had I not seen thee here, I had not remained.” Said the peahen, “That which is on our foreheads we must indeed fulfil, and when our doomed day draweth near, who shall deliver us? But not a soul departeth except it have accomplished its predestined livelihood and term.”
Now, the while they talked thus, a cloud of dust appeared and approached them, at sight of which the duck shrieked aloud and ran down into the sea, crying out, “Beware! beware! though flight there is not from Fate and Lot!” After a while the dust opened out and discovered under it an antelope; whereat the duck and the peahen were reassured and the peacock’s wife said to her companion, “O my sister, this thou seest and wouldst have me beware of is an antelope, and here he is, making for us. He will do us no hurt, for the antelope feedeth upon the herbs of the earth and, even as thou art of the bird-kind, so is he of the beast-kind. Be therefore of good cheer and cease caretaking; for care-taking wasteth thy body.” Hardly had the peahen done speaking, when the antelope came up to them, thinking to shelter him under the shade of the tree; and, sighting the peahen and the duck, saluted them and said, “I came to this island to-day and I have seen none richer in herbage nor pleasanter for habitation.” Then he besought them for company and amity and, when they saw his friendly behaviour to them, they welcomed him and gladly accepted his offer. So they struck up a sincere friendship and sware thereto; and they slept in one place and they ate and drank together; nor did they cease dwelling in safety, eating and drinking their fill, till one day there came thither a ship which had strayed from her course in the sea.
She cast anchor near them and the crew came forth and dispersed about the island. They soon caught sight of the three friends, antelope, peahen and duck, and made for them; whereupon the peahen flew up into the tree and thence winged her way through air; and the antelope fled into the desert, but the duck abode paralysed by fear. So they chased her till they caught her and she cried out and said, “Caution availed me naught against Fate and Lot!”; and they bore her off to the ship. Now, when the peahen saw what had betided the duck, she removed from the island, saying, “I see that misfortunes lie in ambush for all. But for yonder ship, parting had not befallen between me and this duck, because she was one of the truest of friends.” Then she flew off and rejoined the antelope, who saluted her and gave her joy of her safety and asked for the duck, to which she replied, “The enemy hath taken her and I loathe the sojourn of this island after her.” Then she wept for the loss of the duck and began repeating:
The day of parting cut my heart in twain:
In twain may Allah cut the parting-day!
And she spake also this couplet:
I pray some day that we re-union gain,
So may I tell him Parting’s ugly way.
The antelope sorrowed with great sorrow, but dissuaded the peahen from her resolve to remove from the island. So he abode there together with him, eating and drinking, in peace and safety, except that they ceased not to mourn for the loss of the duck; and the antelope said to the peahen, “O my sister, thou seest how the folk who came forth of the ship were the cause of our severance from the duck and of her destruction; so do thou beware of them and guard thyself from them and from the wile of the son of Adam and his guile.” But the peahen replied, “I am assured that nought caused her death save her neglecting to say Subhan’ Allah, glory to God; indeed, I often said to her, ‘Exclaim thou, Praised be Allah, and verily I fear for thee, because thou neglectest to laud the Almighty; for all things created by Allah glorify Him on this wise, and whoso neglecteth the formula of praise, him destruction waylays.’’’ When the antelope heard the peahen’s words, he exclaimed, “Allah make fair thy face!” and betook himself to repeating the formula of praise, and ceased not therefrom a single hour. And it is said that his form of adoration was as follows: “Praise be to the Requiter of every good and evil thing, the Lord of Majesty and of Kings the King!”
Translated by Richard F. Burton7
Know, O my master, that there was a certain man who had a neighbour that envied him; and the more this person envied him, so much the more did God increase the prosperity of the former. Thus it continued a long time; but when the envied man found that his neighbour persisted in troubling him, he removed to a place where there was a deserted well; and there he built for himself an oratory, and occupied himself in the worship of God. Numerous fakeers assembled around him, and he acquired great esteem, people repairing to him from every quarter, placing full reliance upon his sanctity; and his fame reached the ears of his envious neighbour, who mounted his horse, and went to visit him; and when the envied man saw him, he saluted him, and paid him the utmost civility. The envier then said to him, I have come hither to inform thee of a matter in which thou wilt find advantage, and for which I shall obtain a recompense in heaven. The envied man replied, May God requite thee for me with every blessing. Then said the envier, Order the fakeers to retire to their cells, for the information that I am about to give thee I would have no one overhear; So he ordered them to enter their cells; and the envier said to him, Arise, and let us walk together, and converse; and they walked on until they came to the deserted well before mentioned, when the envier pushed the envied man into this well, without the knowledge of anybody, and went his way, imagining that he had killed him.
But this well was inhabited by Jinn, who received him unhurt, and seated him upon a large stone; and when they had done this, one of them said to the others, Do ye know this man? They answered, We know him not.—This, said he, is the envied man who fled from him who envied him, and took up his abode in this quarter, in the neighbouring oratory, and who entertaineth us by his zikr and his readings; and when his envier heard of him, he came hither to him, and, devising a stratagem against him, threw him down here. His fame hath this night reached the Sultan of this city, who hath purposed to visit him to-morrow, on account of the affliction which hath befallen his daughter.— And what, said they, hath happened to his daughter? He answered, Madness; for Meymoon, the son of Demdem, hath become inflamed with love for her; and her cure is the easiest of things. They asked him, What is it?—and he answered, The black cat that is with him in the oratory hath at the end of her tail a white spot, of the size of a piece of silver; and from this white spot should be taken seven hairs, and with these the damsel should be fumigated, and the Marid would depart from over her head, and not return to her; so she would be instantly cured. And now it is our duty to take him out.
When the morning came, the fakeers saw the Sheykh rising out of the well; and he became magnified in their eyes. And when he entered the oratory, he took from the white spot at the end of the cat’s tail seven hairs, and placed them in a portfolio by him; and at sunrise the King came to him, and when the Sheykh saw him, he said to him, O King, thou hast come to visit me in order that I may cure thy daughter. The King replied, Yes, O virtuous Sheykh.— Then, said the Sheykh, send some person to bring her hither; and I trust in God, whose name be exalted, that she may be instantly cured. And when the King had brought his daughter, the Sheykh beheld her bound, and, seating her, suspended a curtain over her, and took out the hairs, and fumigated her with them; whereupon the Marid cried out from over her head, and left her; and the damsel immediately recovered her reason, and, veiling her face, said to her father, What is this, and wherefore didst thou bring me to this place? He answered her, Thou hast nothing to fear;—and rejoiced greatly. He kissed the hand of the envied Sheykh, and said to the great men of his court who were with him, What shall be the recompense of this Sheykh for that which he hath done? They answered, His recompense should be that thou marry him to her.—Ye have spoken truly, said the King,—and he gave her in marriage to him, and thus the Sheykh became a connection of the King; and after some days the King died, and he was made King in his place.
And it happened one day that this envied King was riding with his troops, and he saw his envier approaching; and when this man came before him, he seated him upon a horse with high distinction and honour, and, taking him to his palace, gave him a thousand pieces of gold, and a costly dress; after which he sent him back from the city, with attendants to escort him to his house, and reproached him for nothing.—Consider, then, O ‘Efreet, the pardon of the envied to the envier, and his kindness to him, notwithstanding the injuries he had done him.
Translated by Edward William Lane8
One day certain noble women of Yemen met at my house and agreed on oath to tell the whole truth concerning their husbands, without dissimulation whether for good or evil.
The first said: ‘My husband, is it? An ugly and inaccessible man, as it were camel meat perched on a difficult mountain. And so dry with it all, that there is not a morsel of marrow to be found in him. A worn straw mat!’
The second said: ‘Even to speak of mine is sickening to me. An intractable brute, he threatens divorce if I answer him one word; and, if I keep silence, he bustles me until I feel as if I were balanced on a naked lance point.’
Then said the third: ‘Here is a description of my charming lord: if he eats he licks the bottoms of the plates, if he drinks he sucks out the last drop, if he stoops he squats like a parcel, if he kills for our food it is ever the dryest and leanest of the flock. Otherwise he is nothing; even his hand does not touch me to find out how I do.’
The fourth said: ‘Be he far off from me! He is a heavy burden upon my eyes and upon my heart, both day and night. He is a storehouse of defects, extravagances, idiocies. He will give you a slap over the side of the head as soon as look at you, or prick and tear your belly, or rush at you, or slap and tear and rush at the same time. A dangerous animal, Allāh destroy him!’
But the fifth said: ‘My man is both good and pleasant, like the fairest of the nights of Tihāmah; he is as generous as the rain, he is honoured and feared by all our warriors. He is a lion going forth in his magnificence. His heart burns for all men; the column of his name is high and glorious. He hoards his hunger even at feast times; he watches in the night of danger. He has built his house near the public square so that it shall be the first resort of every traveller. Oh, he is great and handsome! His skin is a soft rabbit silk, it tickles me deliciously. The perfume of his breath is the scent of the zarnab; yet, in spite of all these things, I do as I like with him.’
The sixth lady of Yemen smiled sweetly, as she said: ‘My husband is Mālik Abū Zār, that Abū Zār whom the tribes love. He found me the child of a poor house, he led me to his tent of colours, and enriched my ears with rings of splendour; he put ornaments upon my breasts, and his love brought fatness to my wasted arms. He honoured me as his bride, he led me to a dwelling filled with the singing of lively songs and the shining of the lances of Samhar. Ever in my ears I hear the noises of horses, and of camels collected in great parks, the noise of milling and threshing, the noise of twenty flocks. With him I speak to my desire and he does not check me. When I lie down he does not leave me dry, and when I sleep he lets me sleep on. He has quickened my flanks with an excellent little son, so small that his bed seems a sliver of reed plucked from the mat, so behaved that the ration of a new-born kid suffices him, so delightful that, when he walks, balancing in his little coat of mail, he drags after him the hearts of all beholders. And the daughter which Abū Zār gave me! The delicacy, the jewel of our tribe! Her plumpness exquisitely fills her garment, she is bound in her small mantle like a tress of hair. Her belly is firm and straight, the line of her body is a pleasure under her coat, her thighs are rich and free, her little arms are rounded. She has a wide and open eye, a deep black eye with brows of gentle arch. Her nose is curved a little, the blade of a costly sabre. Fair and sincere is her mouth, beautiful and generous are her hands, her gaiety flashes in freedom. Her speech refreshes like a shadow at noonday, her breath is softer than silk, a soul-ensnaring musk. May Allāh keep them for my tenderness and joy, the daughter of Abū Zār, the son of Abū Zār, and Abū Zār!’
When the sixth had thus spoken, I thanked all my guests for the pleasure they had given me and then, taking up the discourse, said:
‘My sisters, may Allāh the highest preserve the Prophet for our blessing! My mouth is not pure enough to sing his praise; I will content myself with repeating words of his concerning us, us women who are for the most part fuel for the fires of Hell. One day I begged him to give me counsel which should lead me into the path of righteousness, and he said to me:
“O Āishah of my heart, let the women of the Mussulmāns keep watch upon themselves, to have patience in adversity and to be not unmindful in the day of their fortune, to give many children to their husbands, to surround their husbands with honour and attention, and never to be ungrateful for the gifts of Allāh. For God shall drive out from His mercy the ungrateful woman. Also that woman who looks with an insolent regard upon her husband, saying to him or concerning him: ‘An ugly face! A hideous body!’ God will twist out one of her eyes on the Day of Judgment, He will lengthen and deform her body, He will cause it to know an ignoble heaviness, to be a repulsive mass of flaccid flesh, dirtily lumped upon a rumpled, hanging base. Also the woman who opposes her husband in the marriage bed, or vexes him with bitter words, or profanes his mood, Allāh shall pull forth her tongue upon the last day into a foul and fleshy thong, sixty cubits in length, which shall wind its horrible, livid meat about her neck.
“But the virtuous woman, who never troubles the peace of her husband, who never stays from the house at night without permission, who despises dear-bought garment, and precious veils, who wears no costly circles about her arms and ankles, who does not angle for the glances of Believers, who is content with the natural beauty God has given her, whose words are soft, whose riches lie in works of charity, who eagerly foresees in all that concerns her husband, who has a tender love for her children, who keeps good counsel for her neighbour, and who is well disposed to each creature of Allāh—that woman, my dear Āishah, shall enter into Paradise with the prophets and the chosen of the Lord!’
Then I was moved to cry: ‘O Prophet of Allāh, you are dearer to me than the blood of my father and mother!’
Translated by Powys Mathers9
YOUR majesty cannot but have experienced, that we are sometimes in such extraordinary transports of hilarity, that we communicate cheerfulness to those about us, or easily partake of theirs; and sometimes our depression of spirits is so great, that we are insupportable to ourselves, and are so incapable of giving any one reason for our ennui who should ask it, that we cannot account for it to ourselves.
The caliph was one day in one of these latter fits, when his faithful and favourite grand vizier Jaafer came to him. This minister finding him alone, which was seldom the case, and perceiving as he approached that he was in a very melancholy humour, and never lifted up his eyes, stopped till he should vouchsafe to look at him. At last the caliph turned his eyes towards him, but presently withdrew them again, and remained in the same posture motionless as before.
The grand vizier observing nothing in the caliph’s eyes which regarded him personally, took the liberty to speak to him, and said, Commander of the faithful, will your majesty give me leave to ask whence proceeds this melancholy, of which you always seemed to me so little susceptible?
Indeed, vizier, answered the caliph, brightening up his countenance, I am very little subject to it, and had not perceived it but for you, but I will remain no longer in this hippish mood. If no new affair brought you hither, you will gratify me by inventing something to dispel it.
Commander of the faithful, replied the grand vizier, my duty obliged me to wait on you, and I take the liberty to remind your majesty, that this is the day which you have appointed to inform yourself of the good government of your capital and environs; and this occasion very opportunely presents itself to dispel those clouds which obscure your natural gaiety.
You do well to remind me, replied the caliph, for I had entirely forgotten it; go and change your dress, while I do the same.
They each put on the habit of a foreign merchant, and under that disguise went out by a private door of the palace-garden, which led into the country. After they had gone round part of the city to the banks of the Euphrates, at some distance from the walls, without having observed anything disorderly, they crossed the river in the first boat they met, and making a tour on the other side, crossed the bridge, which formed the communication betwixt the two parts of the town. At the foot of this bridge they met an old blind man, who asked alms of them; the caliph turned about, and put a piece of gold into his hand. The blind man instantly caught hold of his hand, and stopped him: Charitable person, said he, whoever you are, whom God hath inspired to bestow alms on me, do not refuse the favour I ask of you, to give me a box on the ear, for I deserve that, and a greater punishment. Having thus spoken, he let the caliph’s hand go, that he might strike, but for fear he should pass on without doing it, held him fast by his clothes.
The caliph, surprised both at the words and action of the blind man, said, I cannot comply with your request. I will not lessen the merit of my charity, by treating you as you would have me. After these words, he endeavoured to get away from the blind man. The blind man, who expected this reluctance of his benefactor, exerted himself to detain him. Sir, said he, forgive my boldness and importunity; I desire you would either give me a box on the ear, or take your alms back again, for I cannot receive it but on that condition, without breaking a solemn oath, which I have sworn to God; and if you knew the reason, you would agree with me that the punishment is very slight.
The caliph, unwilling to be detained any longer, yielded to the importunity of the blind man, and gave him a very slight blow: whereupon he immediately let him go, thanked and blessed him. When the caliph and vizier had got some small distance from the blind man, the caliph said to Jaaffer, This blind man must certainly have some very uncommon reasons, which make him behave himself in this manner to all who give him alms. I should be glad to know them; therefore return, tell him who I am, and bid him not fail to come to my palace about prayer-time in the afternoon of to-morrow, that I may have some conversation with him.
The grand vizier returned, bestowed his alms on the blind man, and after he had given him a box on the ear, told him the caliph’s order, and then returned to the caliph. When they came into the town, they found in a square a great crowd of spectators, looking at a handsome well-shaped young man, who was mounted on a mare, which he drove and urged full speed round the place, spurring and whipping the poor creature so barbarously, that she was all over sweat and blood.
The caliph, amazed at the inhumanity of the rider, stopped to ask the people if they knew why he used the mare so ill; but could learn nothing, except that for some time past he had every day, at the same hour, treated her in the same manner. As they went along, the caliph bade the grand vizier take particular notice of the place, and not fail to order the young man to attend the next day at the hour appointed to the blind man. But before the caliph got to his palace, he observed in a street, which he had not passed through a long time before, an edifice newly build, which seemed to him to be the palace of some one of the great lords of the court. He asked the grand vizier if he knew to whom it belonged; who answered he did not know, but would inquire; and thereupon asked a neighbour, who told him that the house was that of one Khaujeh Hassan, surnamed Al Hubbaul, on account of his original trade of rope-making, which he had seen him work at himself, when poor; that without knowing how fortune had favoured him, he supposed he must have acquired great wealth, as he defrayed honourably and splendidly the expenses he had been at in building.
The grand vizier rejoined the caliph, and gave him a full account of what he had heard. I must see this fortunate rope-maker, said the caliph, therefore go and tell him to come to my palace at the same hour you have ordered the other two. Accordingly the vizier obeyed. The next day, after afternoon prayers, the caliph retired to his own apartment, when the grand vizier introduced the three persons we have been speaking of, and presented them to the caliph. They all three prostrated themselves before the throne, and when they rose up, the caliph asked the blind man his name, who answered, it was Baba Abdoollah.
Baba Abdoollah, replied the caliph, your manner of asking alms seemed so strange to me yesterday, that if it had not been for some private considerations I should not have complied with your request, but should have prevented you from giving any more offence to the public. I ordered you to come hither, to know from yourself what could have induced you to make the indiscreet oath you told me of, that I may judge whether you have done well, and if I ought suffer you to continue a practice that appears to me to set so ill an example. Tell me freely how so extravagant a thought came into your head, and do not disguise anything from me, for I will absolutely know the truth.
Baba Abdoollah, intimidated by his reprimand, cast himself a second time at the foot of the caliph’s throne, with his face to the ground, and when he rose up, said, Commander of the faithful, I most humbly ask your majesty’s pardon for my presumption, in daring to have required, and almost forced you to do a thing which indeed appears so contrary to reason. I acknowledge my offence, but as I did not then know your majesty, I implore your clemency, and hope you will consider my ignorance. As to the extravagance of my action, I own it, and own also that it must seem strange to mankind; but in the eye of God it is a slight penance I have enjoined myself for an enormous crime of which I have been guilty, and for which, if all the people in the world were each to give me a box on the ear, it would not be sufficient atonement.
Translated by Jonathan Scott10