A Literary History of the Arabs Part 33

Although the reader may think that too much s.p.a.ce has been already devoted to poetry, I will venture by way of concluding the subject to mention very briefly a few well-known names which cannot be altogether omitted from a work of this kind.

[Sidenote: Abu Tammam and Bu?turi.]

Abu Tammam (?abib b. Aws) and Bu?turi, both of whom flourished in the ninth century, were distinguished court poets of the same type as Mutanabbi, but their reputation rests more securely on the anthologies which they compiled under the t.i.tle of _?amasa_ (see p. 129 seq.).

[Sidenote: Ibnu 'l-Mu'tazz (861-908 A.D.).]

Abu 'l-'Abbas 'Abdullah, the son of the Caliph al-Mu'tazz, was a versatile poet and man of letters, who showed his originality by the works which he produced in two novel styles of composition. It has often been remarked that the Arabs have no great epos like the Iliad or the Persian _Shahnama_, but only prose narratives which, though sometimes epical in tone, are better described as historical romances. Ibnu 'l-Mu'tazz could not supply the deficiency. He wrote, however, in praise of his cousin, the Caliph Mu'ta?id, a metrical epic in miniature, commencing with a graphic delineation of the wretched state to which the Empire had been reduced by the rapacity and tyranny of the Turkish mercenaries. He composed also, besides an anthology of Baccha.n.a.lian pieces, the first important work on Poetics (_Kitabu 'l-Badi'_). A sad destiny was in store for this accomplished prince. On the death of the Caliph Muktari he was called to the throne, but a few hours after his accession he was overpowered by the partisans of Muqtadir, who strangled him as soon as they discovered his hiding-place. Picturing the scene, one thinks almost inevitably of Nero's dying words, _Qualis artifex pereo!_

[Sidenote: 'Umar Ibnu 'l-Fari? (1181-1235 A.D.).]

The mystical poetry of the Arabs is far inferior, as a whole, to that of the Persians. Fervour and pa.s.sion it has in the highest degree, but it lacks range and substance, not to speak of imaginative and speculative power. 'Umar Ibnu 'l-Fari?, though he is undoubtedly the poet of Arabian mysticism, cannot sustain a comparison with his great Persian contemporary, Jalalu'l-Din Rumi ( 1273 A.D.); he surpa.s.ses him only in the intense glow and exquisite beauty of his diction. It will be convenient to reserve a further account of Ibnu 'l-Fari? for the next chapter, where we shall discuss the development of ?ufiism during this period.

Finally two writers claim attention who owe their reputation to single poems--a by no means rare phenomenon in the history of Arabic literature. One of these universally celebrated odes is the _Lamiyyatu 'l-'Ajam_ (the ode rhyming in _l_ of the non-Arabs) composed in the year 1111 A.D. by ?ughra'i; the other is the _Burda_ (Mantle Ode) of Bu?iri, which I take the liberty of mentioning in this chapter, although its author died some forty years after the Mongol Invasion.

[Sidenote: ?ughra'i ( _circa_ 1120 A.D.).]

?asan b. 'Ali al-?ughra'i was of Persian descent and a native of I?fahan.[610] He held the offices of _katib_ (secretary) and _munshi_ or _?ughra'i_ (chancellor) under the great Seljuq Sultans, Malikshah and Mu?ammad, and afterwards became Vizier to the Seljuqid prince Ghiyathu 'l-Din Mas'ud[611] in Mosul. He derived the t.i.tle by which he is generally known from the royal signature (_?ughra_) which it was his duty to indite on all State papers over the initial _Bismillah_. The _Lamiyyatu 'l-'Ajam_ is so called with reference to Shanfara's renowned poem, the _Lamiyyatu 'l-'Arab_ (see p. 79 seq.), which rhymes in the same letter; otherwise the two odes have only this in common,[612] that whereas Shanfara depicts the hardships of an outlaw's life in the desert, ?ughra'i, writing in Baghdad, laments the evil times on which he has fallen, and complains that younger rivals, base and servile men, are preferred to him, while he is left friendless and neglected in his old age.

[Sidenote: Bu?iri ( _circa_ 1296 A.D.).]

The _Qa?idatu 'l-Burda_ (Mantle Ode) of al-Bu?iri[613] is a hymn in praise of the Prophet. Its author was born in Egypt in 1212 A.D. We know scarcely anything concerning his life, which, as he himself declares, was pa.s.sed in writing poetry and in paying court to the great[614]; but his biographers tell us that he supported himself by copying ma.n.u.scripts, and that he was a disciple of the eminent ?ufi, Abu 'l-'Abbas A?mad al-Marsi. It is said that he composed the _Burda_ while suffering from a stroke which paralysed one half of his body. After praying G.o.d to heal him, he began to recite the poem. Presently he fell asleep and dreamed that he saw the Prophet, who touched his palsied side and threw his mantle (_burda_) over him.[615] "Then," said al-Bu?iri, "I awoke and found myself able to rise." However this may be, the Mantle Ode is held in extraordinary veneration by Mu?ammadans. Its verses are often learned by heart and inscribed in golden letters on the walls of public buildings; and not only is the whole poem regarded as a charm against evil, but some peculiar magical power is supposed to reside in each verse separately. Although its poetical merit is no more than respectable, the _Burda_ may be read with pleasure on account of its smooth and elegant style, and with interest as setting forth in brief compa.s.s the mediaeval legend of the Prophet--a legend full of prodigies and miracles in which the historical figure of Mu?ammad is glorified almost beyond recognition.

[Sidenote: Rhymed prose.]

Rhymed prose (_saj'_) long retained the religious a.s.sociations which it possessed in Pre-islamic times and which were consecrated, for all Moslems, by its use in the Koran. About the middle of the ninth century it began to appear in the public sermons (_khu?ab_, sing.

_khu?ba_) of the Caliphs and their viceroys, and it was still further developed by professional preachers, like Ibn Nubata ( 984 A.D.), and by official secretaries, like Ibrahim b. Hilal al-?abi ( 994 A.D.).

Henceforth rhyme becomes a distinctive and almost indispensable feature of rhetorical prose.

[Sidenote: Badi'u 'l-Zaman al-Hamadhani ( 1007 A.D.).]

The credit of inventing, or at any rate of making popular, a new and remarkable form of composition in this style belongs to al-Hamadhani ( 1007 A.D.), on whom posterity conferred the t.i.tle _Badi'u 'l-Zaman_, _i.e._, 'the Wonder of the Age.' Born in Hamadhan (Ecbatana), he left his native town as a young man and travelled through the greater part of Persia, living by his wits and astonishing all whom he met by his talent for improvisation. His _Maqamat_ may be called a romance or literary Bohemianism. In the _maqama_ we find some approach to the dramatic style, which has never been cultivated by the Semites.[616] Hamadhani imagined as his hero a witty, unscrupulous vagabond journeying from place to place and supporting himself by the presents which his impromptu displays of rhetoric, poetry, and learning seldom failed to draw from an admiring audience. The second character is the _rawi_ or narrator, "who should be continually meeting with the other, should relate his adventures, and repeat his excellent compositions."[617] The _Maqamat_ of Hamadhani became the model for this kind of writing, and the types which he created survive unaltered in the more elaborate work of his successors. Each _maqama_ forms an independent whole, so that the complete series may be regarded as a novel consisting of detached episodes in the hero's life, a medley of prose and verse in which the story is nothing, the style everything.

[Sidenote: ?ariri (1054-1122 A.D.).]

Less original than Badi'u 'l-Zaman, but far beyond him in variety of learning and copiousness of language, Abu Mu?ammad al-Qasim al-?ariri of Ba?ra produced in his _Maqamat_ a masterpiece which for eight centuries "has been esteemed as, next to the Koran, the chief treasure of the Arabic tongue." In the Preface to his work he says that the composition of _maqamat_ was suggested to him by "one whose suggestion is a command and whom it is a pleasure to obey." This was the distinguished Persian statesman, a.n.u.shirwan b. Khalid,[618] who afterwards served as Vizier under the Caliph Mustarshid Billah (1118-1135 A.D.) and Sultan Mas'ud, the Seljuq (1133-1152 A.D.); but at the time when he made ?ariri's acquaintance he was living in retirement at Ba?ra and devoting himself to literary studies.

?ariri begged to be excused on the score that his abilities were unequal to the task, "for the lame steed cannot run like the strong courser."[619] Finally, however, he yielded to the request of a.n.u.shirwan, and, to quote his own words--

"I composed, in spite of hindrances that I suffered From dullness of capacity and dimness of intellect, And dryness of imagination and distressing anxieties, Fifty Maqamat, which contain serious language and lightsome, And combine refinement with dignity of style, And brilliancies with jewels of eloquence, And beauties of literature with its rarities, Beside verses of the Koran wherewith I adorned them, And choice metaphors, and Arab proverbs that I interspersed, And literary elegancies and grammatical riddles, And decisions based on the (double) meaning of words, And original discourses and highly-wrought orations, And affecting exhortations as well as entertaining jests: The whole of which I have indited as by the tongue of Abu Zayd of Saruj, The part of narrator being a.s.signed to Harith son of Hammam of Ba?ra."[620]

?ariri then proceeds to argue that his _Maqamat_ are not mere frivolous stories such as strict Moslems are bound to reprobate in accordance with a well-known pa.s.sage of the Koran referring to Na?r b. ?arith, who mortally offended the Prophet by amusing the Quraysh with the old Persian legends of Rustam and Isfandiyar (Koran, x.x.xi, 5-6): "_There is one that buyeth idle tales that he may seduce men from the way of G.o.d, without knowledge, and make it a laughing-stock: these shall suffer a shameful punishment. And when Our signs are read to him, he turneth his back in disdain as though he heard them not, as though there were in his ears a deafness: give him joy of a grievous punishment!_" ?ariri insists that the _a.s.semblies_ have a moral purpose. The ignorant and malicious, he says, will probably condemn his work, but intelligent readers will perceive, if they lay prejudice aside, that it is as useful and instructive as the fables of beasts, &c.,[621] to which no one has ever objected. That his fears of hostile criticism were not altogether groundless is shown by the following remarks of the author of the popular history ent.i.tled _al-Fakhri_ ( _circa_ 1300 A.D.). This writer, after claiming that his own book is more useful than the _?amasa_ of Abu Tammam, continues:--

[Sidenote: _Maqamat_ criticised as immoral.]

"And, again, it is more profitable than the _Maqamat_ on which men have set their hearts, and which they eagerly commit to memory; because the reader derives no benefit from _Maqamat_ except familiarity with elegant composition and knowledge of the rules of verse and prose. Undoubtedly they contain maxims and ingenious devices and experiences; but all this has a debasing effect on the mind, for it is founded on begging and sponging and disgraceful scheming to acquire a few paltry pence. Therefore, if they do good in one direction, they do harm in another; and this point has been noticed by some critics of the _Maqamat_ of ?ariri and Badi'u 'l-Zaman."[622]

[Sidenote: The character of Abu Zayd.]

Before p.r.o.nouncing on the justice of this censure, we must consider for a moment the character of Abu Zayd, the hero of ?ariri's work, whose adventures are related by a certain ?arith b. Hammam, under which name the author is supposed to signify himself. According to the general tradition, ?ariri was one day seated with a number of savants in the mosque of the Banu ?aram at Ba?ra, when an old man entered, footsore and travel-stained. On being asked who he was and whence he came, he answered that his name of honour was Abu Zayd and that he came from Saruj.[623] He described in eloquent and moving terms how his native town had been plundered by the Greeks, who made his daughter a captive and drove him forth to exile and poverty. ?ariri was so struck with his wonderful powers of improvisation that on the same evening he began to compose the _Maqama of the Banu ?aram_,[624]

where Abu Zayd is introduced in his invariable character: "a crafty old man, full of genius and learning, unscrupulous of the artifices which he uses to effect his purpose, reckless in spending in forbidden indulgences the money he has obtained by his wit or deceit, but with veins of true feeling in him, and ever yielding to unfeigned emotion when he remembers his devastated home and his captive child."[625] If an immoral tendency has been attributed to the _a.s.semblies_ of ?ariri it is because the author does not conceal his admiration for this unprincipled and thoroughly disreputable scamp. Abu Zayd, indeed, is made so fascinating that we can easily pardon his knaveries for the sake of the pearls of wit and wisdom which he scatters in splendid profusion--excellent discourses, edifying sermons, and plaintive lamentations mingled with rollicking ditties and ribald jests. Modern readers are not likely to agree with the historian quoted above, but although they may deem his criticism illiberal, they can hardly deny that it has some justification.

?ariri's rhymed prose might be freely imitated in English, but the difficulty of rendering it in rhyme with tolerable fidelity has caused me to abandon the attempt to produce a version of one of the _a.s.semblies_ in the original form.[626] I will translate instead three poems which are put into the mouth of Abu Zayd. The first is a tender elegiac strain recalling far-off days of youth and happiness in his native land:--

"Gha.s.san is my n.o.ble kindred, Saruj is my land of birth, Where I dwelt in a lofty mansion of sunlike glory and worth, A Paradise for its sweetness and beauty and pleasant mirth!

And oh, the life that I led there abounding in all delight!

I trailed my robe on its meadows, while Time flew a careless flight, Elate in the flower of manhood, no pleasure veiled from my sight.

Now, if woe could kill, I had died of the troubles that haunt me here, Or could past joy ever be ransomed, my heart's blood had not been dear, Since death is better than living a brute's life year after year.

Subdued to scorn as a lion whom base hyenas torment.

But Luck is to blame, else no one had failed of his due ascent: If she were straight, the conditions of men would never be bent."[627]

The scene of the eleventh _a.s.sembly_ is laid in Sawa, a city lying midway between Hamadhan (Ecbatana) and Rayy (Rhages). "?arith, in a fit of religious zeal, betakes himself to the public burial ground, for the purpose of contemplation. He finds a funeral in progress, and when it is over an old man, with his face m.u.f.fled in a cloak, takes his stand on a hillock, and pours forth a discourse on the certainty of death and judgment.... He then rises into poetry and declaims a piece which is one of the n.o.blest productions of Arabic literature. In lofty morality, in religious fervour, in beauty of language, in power and grace of metre, this magnificent hymn is unsurpa.s.sed."[628]

"Pretending sense in vain, how long, O light of brain, wilt thou heap sin and bane, and compa.s.s error's span?

Thy conscious guilt avow! The white hairs on thy brow admonish thee, and thou hast ears unstopt, O man!

Death's call dost thou not hear? Rings not his voice full clear? Of parting hast no fear, to make thee sad and wise?

How long sunk in a sea of sloth and vanity wilt thou play heedlessly, as though Death spared his prize?

Till when, far wandering from virtue, wilt thou cling to evil ways that bring together vice in brief?

For thy Lord's anger shame thou hast none, but let maim o'ertake thy cherished aim, then feel'st thou burning grief.

Thou hail'st with eager joy the coin of yellow die, but if a bier pa.s.s by, feigned is thy sorry face; Perverse and callous wight! thou scornest counsel right to follow the false light of treachery and disgrace.

Thy pleasure thou dost crave, to sordid gain a slave, forgetting the dark grave and what remains of dole; Were thy true weal descried, thy l.u.s.t would not misguide nor thou be terrified by words that should console.

Not tears, blood shall thine eyes pour at the great a.s.size, when thou hast no allies, no kinsman thee to save; Straiter thy tomb shall be than needle's cavity: deep, deep thy plunge I see as diver's 'neath the wave.

There shall thy limbs be laid, a feast for worms arrayed, till utterly decayed are wood and bones withal, Nor may thy soul repel that ordeal horrible, when o'er the Bridge of h.e.l.l she must escape or fall.

Astray shall leaders go, and mighty men be low, and sages shall cry, 'Woe like this was never yet.'

Then haste, my thoughtless friend, what thou hast marred to mend, for life draws near its end, and still thou art in the net.

Trust not in fortune, nay, though she be soft and gay; for she will spit one day her venom, if thou dote; Abate thy haughty pride! lo, Death is at thy side, fastening, whate'er betide, his fingers on thy throat.

When prosperous, refrain from arrogant disdain, nor give thy tongue the rein: a modest tongue is best.

Comfort the child of bale and listen to his tale: repair thine actions frail, and be for ever blest.

Feather the nest once more of those whose little store has vanished: ne'er deplore the loss nor miser be; With meanness bravely cope, and teach thine hand to ope, and spurn the misanthrope, and make thy bounty free.

Lay up provision fair and leave what brings thee care: for sea the ship prepare and dread the rising storm.

This, friend, is what I preach expressed in lucid speech. Good luck to all and each who with my creed conform!"

In the next _Maqama_--that of Damascus--we find Abu Zayd, gaily attired, amidst casks and vats of wine, carousing and listening to the music of lutes and singing--

"I ride and I ride through the waste far and wide, and I fling away pride to be gay as the swallow; Stem the torrent's fierce speed, tame the mettlesome steed, that wherever I lead Youth and Pleasure may follow.

I bid gravity pack, and I strip bare my back lest liquor I lack when the goblet is lifted: Did I never incline to the quaffing of wine, I had ne'er been with fine wit and eloquence gifted.

Is it wonderful, pray, that an old man should stay in a well-stored seray by a cask overflowing?

Wine strengthens the knees, physics every disease, and from sorrow it frees, the oblivion-bestowing!

Oh, the purest of joys is to live sans disguise unconstrained by the ties of a grave reputation, And the sweetest of love that the lover can prove is when fear and hope move him to utter his pa.s.sion.

Thy love then proclaim, quench the smouldering flame, for 'twill spark out thy shame and betray thee to laughter: Heal the wounds of thine heart and a.s.suage thou the smart by the cups that impart a delight men seek after; While to hand thee the bowl damsels wait who cajole and enravish the soul with eyes tenderly glancing, And singers whose throats pour such high-mounting notes, when the melody floats, iron rocks would be dancing!

Obey not the fool who forbids thee to pull beauty's rose when in full bloom thou'rt free to possess it; Pursue thine end still, tho' it seem past thy skill; let them say what they will, take thy pleasure and bless it!

Get thee gone from thy sire, if he thwart thy desire; spread thy nets nor enquire what the nets are receiving; But be true to a friend, shun the miser and spend, ways of charity wend, be unwearied in giving.

He that knocks enters straight at the Merciful's gate, so repent or e'er Fate call thee forth from the living!"