Texts, Documents, and Artefacts: Islamic Studies in Honour of D.S. Richards (Islamic History and Civilization)

TEXTS, DOCUMENTS AND ARTEFACTS ISLAMIC HISTORY AND CIVILIZATION STUDIES AND TEXTS edited by WADAD KADI AND ROTRAUD W...

Author: D. S. Richards | Chase F. Robinson

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TEXTS, DOCUMENTS AND ARTEFACTS

ISLAMIC HISTORY AND CIVILIZATION STUDIES AND TEXTS edited by WADAD KADI AND

ROTRAUD WIELANDT

VOLUME 45

TEXTS, DOCUMENTS AND ARTEFACTS Islamic Studies in Honour of D.S. Richards EDITED BY

CHASE F. ROBINSON

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON 2003

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Texts, documents, and artefacts : Islamic studies in honour of D.S. Richards / edited by Chase F. Robinson. p. cm. — (Islamic history and civilization. Studies and texts, ISSN 0929-2403 ; v. 45) Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 90-04-12864-6 1. Islamic Empire—History. 2. Civilization, Islamic. 3. Richards, D.S. (Donald Sidney), 1935- I. Title: Islamic studies in honour of D.S. Richards. II. Richards, D.S. (Donald Sidney), 1935- III. Robinson, Chase F. IV. Series. DS35.63.T49 2003 909'09767101--dc21 2002044050

ISSN 0929-2403 ISBN 90 04 12864 6 © Copyright 2003 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910 Danvers MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

CONTENTS

Introduction ................................................................................ Chase F. Robinson

vii

Bibliography of D.S. Richards ..................................................

xi

The word made visible: Arabic script and the committing of the Qur"àn to writing .................................. Alan Jones

1

Caliphs and their chroniclers in the Middle Abbasid period (third/ninth century) .................................................. Hugh Kennedy

17

A new text on Ismailism at the Samanid court ...................... Patricia Crone and Luke Treadwell A treatise on the Imamate of the Fatimid Caliph al-Manßùr bi-Allàh .................................................................. Wilferd Madelung The imprisonment of Reynald of Châtillon ............................ Carole Hillenbrand

37

69

79

A conversation on contemporary politics in the twelfth century: ‘al-Maqàma al-Baghdàdiyya’ by al-Wahrànì (d. 575/1179) ................................................ 103 Geert Jan van Gelder Les sources d’Ibn al-'Adìm sur le règne de Sayf al-Dawla en Syrie du Nord (333–356/944–967) ................ 121 Anne-Marie Eddé An original Arabic document from Crusader Antioch (1213 AD) ................................................................ 157 Nadia Jamil and Jeremy Johns

vi



Yàqùt’s interviewing technique: ‘Sniffy’ .................................... 191 Julia Bray “Sìrat al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh” by Ibn Nàhi∂ ............................ 211 Amalia Levanoni Foot soldiers, militiamen and volunteers in the early Mamluk army ........................................................................ 233 Reuven Amitai Tribal feuding and Mamluk factions in medieval Syria ........ 251 Robert Irwin The collapse of the Great Saljuqs ............................................ 265 Julie Scott Meisami Mamluk Sgraffiato ware: the power of the new .................... 301 George T. Scanlon De passage à Damas en 688/1286. Ibn al-Najìb et la transmission du savoir ............................................................ 357 Jacqueline Sublet When is a fake a fake and how much does it matter? On the authenticity of the letter of the descendants of Mu˙ammad b. Íàli˙ to the descendants of Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ .................................................................. 385 David J. Wasserstein Materials for the study of Arabic in the age of the early printed book .................................................................. 405 David Morray Selected Index of Persons .......................................................... 415

INTRODUCTION Chase F. Robinson (Oxford)

The following articles, all written by friends, colleagues or students of D.S. Richards, are intended to serve as a token of our deep respect for him as friend, colleague and teacher, and to bear witness to his long and distinguished career as a scholar. Donald Sidney Richards was born in Bristol in 1935 and came up to Oxford in 1953, reading Greats (Literae Humaniores) at Merton College before turning to Arabic and Persian for his degree, which he took in 1957. He then spent two years in the Navy, during which time he added Russian to his Greek, Latin, Arabic and Persian, and returned to Oxford in 1959 at the invitation of Professor A.F.L. Beeston; with the encouragement of both Freddie Beeston and Albert Hourani, he applied and was appointed to a Lectureship in Arabic in the Faculty of Oriental Studies in 1960. (Research for the D.Phil. was started but abandoned, which was hardly rare in those days; besides, he had already proved himself to his teachers.) In 1967 he was elected to an Official Fellowship at St Cross College, where he served as Vice-Master from 1991–1995, by which time he had completed several sabbaticals, including one in 1983, when he was Senior Research Fellow at the British School of Archaeology in Jerusalem. Most important, of course, he had married Pamela, with whom he came to share not only an unflagging enthusiasm for Arabic, the Middle East and local history, but a son (Martin) and a daughter (Lucy). In 2000, Donald retired from the same Faculty and post to which he had first been appointed—some 40 years of learning and teaching. Were we to read it in a scholar’s tarjama, we would all be tempted to reckon it a mere topos. Having learned from Donald that texts are rarely that simple, however, we would think again. What can one accomplish in 40 years? One can endure, which is how many lecturers who first came to Oxford in the 50s and 60s might choose to describe their experience in the 90s and 00s. The Oxford of Donald’s early years could boast many of the greatest Orientalists of the twentieth century, including H.A.R. Gibb, Samuel Stern and Richard Walzer; it was also gloriously naïve of Teaching

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Quality Assessments, Research Assessment Exercises and the culture of fetishized procedures they represent. I know that Donald does not regret leaving these behind. But beyond enduring, one can leave a legacy, and this Donald has done. Generations of students have benefited from his gentle but surehanded guidance through Final Honours School options and conventions as labyrinthine as the Mamluk Jerusalem that he, more than any other scholar of his generation, has charted. (In the matter of options and conventions, as in many other academic matters, Donald sorted out the messes left by noisier Oxford colleagues; always affable and unflappable, he quietly and efficiently got things done.) Nearly as many students he taught how to read and write Arabic—undergraduate and graduate alike, some willingly, others only under duress (when they had failed to prepare translations, he would translate for them—the text had to be gotten through). And insofar as the curriculum accommodated it, he taught history too, in lectures and textreading classes; undergraduates and graduates broke their teeth on Miskawayh and Ibn Athìr with Mr Richards. All of this said, it is the smallest of his constituencies—his fellow scholars—who enjoy what may be the richest of his legacies, and, now, liberated from the academic schedule, the one into which he still makes regular contributions. It is principally the scholarship of D.S. Richards that the present volume celebrates. Texts, Documents and Artefacts is the theme of this Festschrift because they are the stuff of his scholarship. To many, Donald is known either as the editor of two influential collections of economic and social history (Islam and the Trade of Asia, Oxford, 1970; Islamic Civilisation 950–1150, Oxford, 1973) or as the historian behind the definitive guide to the architecture of Mamluk Jerusalem (Mamluk Jerusalem: An Architectural Study, London, 1987). But to those who know better, Donald is an Arabist. Trained originally as a classicist, he devoted most of his published scholarship to construing the meanings of Arabic words. Anyone who knows Arabic well knows that this is not as simple as it may sound, just as anyone in Oxford who has struggled with palaeographic or epigraphic problems in Arabic knows where the solutions were to be found. Art historians made a habit of appearing in the Oriental Institute’s common room with blurry photographs of inscribed Mamluk ewers and lamps, hoping to find Donald at coffee: “I can see the làm, but what do you make of that?” Or this very afternoon, when I invited him to examine a



ix

colophon on one of the Bodleian’s copies of al-Íafadì’s al-Wàfì bi’lwafayàt: “Yes, one sees bi-ishàrat al-amìr, but one would expect birasm because that’s what’s on the documents . . .” No one else around the table knows these documents as he does, so we dunk our biscuits in assent, while I pause before putting another question: “What about this?” Although Donald’s teaching career began and ended at Oxford, and the influence of Oxford Oriental Studies upon his research interests is clear enough—after all, Gibb had worked on the biographers of Saladin, and Stern on the Sinai documents—Donald made documentary Arabic a career-long specialty, devoting countless hours to deciphering and discussing a range of documents, chiefly from Jerusalem, Fustat/Cairo and the Sinai, which throw light on the social, political and religious history of the pre-modern Near East. A second area of expertise, the historiography of the Ayyubid and Mamluk periods, emerged in the 1980s. Like many Oxford scholars who had the pleasure to begin his career when learning was assumed rather than assigned a crude number value, he published at his own pace; but unlike many of those Oxford scholars, his pace accelerated during the latter part of his career: the last three years alone have seen the appearance of his long-awaited edition of years 650–709 AH of the Zubdat al-fikra fì ta"rìkh al-hijra and his translations of al-Nawàdir al-sul†àniyya wa’l-ma˙àsin al-Yùsufiyya and the Saljuk section of Ibn alAthìr’s Kàmil. The articles published in this Festschrift range nearly the length and breadth of Islamic studies, but in their close engagement with the written word, they all honour D.S. Richards and his scholarship. Acknowledgements The editor wishes to thank Elizabeth Will, Andrew Marsham and Gail Dixon-Smith for their assistance, and the Board of the Faculty of Oriental Studies for financial support.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY OF D.S. RICHARDS

Collections, editions, translations Ed., Islam and the Trade of Asia, Oxford, 1970 Ed., Islamic Civilisation 950–1150, Oxford, 1973 Mamluk Jerusalem. An Architectural Study (with M. Burgoyne), London, 1987 Ed., Baybars al-Manßùrì, Zubdat al-fikra fì ta"rìkh al-hijra, Bibliotheca Islamica vol. xlii, Beirut and Berlin, 1998 Trans., The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin or al-Nawàdir al-Sul†àniyya wa’lMa˙àsin al-Yùsufiyya by Bahà" al-Dìn Ibn Shaddàd, Crusade Texts in Translation No. 7, Aldershot, 2001 Trans., The Annals of the Saljuq Turks: Selections From al-Kàmil fì’l-Ta"rìkh of 'Izz alDìn Ibn al-Athìr, London, 2002 Articles ‘The Coptic bureaucracy under the Mamluks’, in Colloque Internationale sur l’Histoire du Caire, Cairo, 1969, 373–381 ‘Arabic documents from the Karaite community in Cairo’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient xv, 1972, 105–162 ‘The early history of Saladin’, The Islamic Quarterly xvii, 1973, 149–159 ‘A Fatimid petition and “small decree” from Sinai’, Israel Oriental Studies iii, 1973, 140–158 ‘A letter to Charles I of England from the Sultan al-Walid of Morocco’, The Islamic Quarterly xvii, 1973, 26–35 ‘A Mamluk petition and a report from the Dìwàn al-Jaysh’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies xl, 1977, 1–14 ‘A text of 'Imad al-Din on 12th Century Frankish-Muslim Relations’, Arabica xxv, 1978, 202–204 ‘Two sources for the life of Saladin’, Journal of Semitic Studies xxv, 1980, 46–65 ‘Ibn al-Athìr and the later parts of the Kàmil: a study of aims and methods’, in Medieval Historical Writing in the Christian and Islamic Worlds, D.O. Morgan, ed., London, 1982, 76–108 ‘Documents from Sinai concerning mainly Cairene property’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient xxviii, 1985, 225–293 ‘Arabic inscriptions’, in The Red Tower (al-Burj al-Ahmar), D. Pringle, ed., London, 1986, 78–82 ‘The Mamluk barid: Some evidence from the Haram documents’, Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan III, A. Hadidi, ed., Amman, 1987, 205–209 ‘The Mamluk chancery manual, Tathqìf al-Ta'rìf: its author’s identity and manuscripts’, Cahiers d’onomastique arabe 1985–1987, Paris, 1989, 97–101 ‘Written documents’, in Fustat Expedition Final Report, W. Kubiak and G.T. Scanlon, eds, Winona Lake, Indiana, 1989, 64–80 ‘Arabic documents from the Monastery of St. James in Jerusalem including a Mamluk report on the ownership of Calvary’, Revue des Etudes Arméniennes xxi, 1988–89, 455–469 ‘A report on an order of Qàràqu“’, Arabica xxxvi, part 2, 1989, 237–241

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‘A Damascus scroll relating to a waqf for the Yunusiyya’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1990, no. 2, 267–281 ‘The qasàma in Mamluk society: some documents from the Haram Collection in Jerusalem’, Annales Islamologiques xxv, 1990, 245–284 ‘Fragments of a slave dealer’s day-book from Fustat’, in Documents de l’Islam Médiéval: Nouvelles Perspectives de Recherche, Y. Raghib, ed., Cairo, 1991, 89–98 ‘The maqàmàt of al-Hamadhani; general remarks and a consideration of the manuscripts’, Journal of Arabic Literature xxii, 1991, 89–99 ‘The rasà"il of Badì" al-Zamàn al-Hamadhànì’, in Arabicus Felix Luminosus Britannicus: Essays in Honour of A.F.L. Beeston on his Eightieth Birthday, A. Jones, ed., Reading, 1991, 142–162 ‘A Mamluk emir’s “square” decree’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies liv, part 1, 1991, 63–67 ‘A petition for an iq†à' addressed to Saladin or al-'Àdil’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies lv, part 1, 1992, 100–105 ‘Ebn al-A†ir’, in Encyclopaedia Iranica, E. Yar-Shater, ed., vol. vii, 671–672 ‘A doctor’s petition for a salaried post in Saladin’s hospital’, Social History of Medicine, 1992, 93–101 ‘Dhimmi problems in fifteenth-century Cairo: Reconsideration of a court document’, in Studies in Muslim-Jewish Relations, i, R. Nettler, ed., Chur and Reading, 1992, 127–163 ‘The Sword of Islam’, in Egypt: Ancient Culture, Modern Land, J. Malek, ed., Sydney 1993, 143–151 ‘'Imad al-Din al-Isfahani: Administrator, littérateur and historian’, in Crusaders and Muslims in Twelfth-Century Syria, M. Shatzmiller, ed., Leiden, 1993, 133–146 Articles for the Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition: ‘Íalà˙ al-Dìn Yùsuf (Saladin)’, vol. viii, 910–914 ‘al-Íàli˙ 'Imàd al-Dìn, vol. viii, 987–988 ‘al-Íàli˙ Nadjm al-Dìn Ayyùb’, vol. viii, 988–989 ‘Shàwar’, vol. ix, 372–373 ‘Shirkùh’, vol. ix, 486–487 ‘Saladin’s hospital in Jerusalem: Its foundation and some later archival material’, in The Frankish Wars and their Influence on Palestine, K. Athamina and R. Heacock eds, Birzeit, 1994, 70–83 ‘The crusade of Frederick II and the Hamah succession: Extracts from the Chronicle of Ibn Abì al-Damm’, Bulletin d’Études Orientales xlv, 1994, 183–200 ‘Fatimid Dynasty’, in Oxford Encyclopedia of the Modern Islamic World, J.L. Esposito, ed., Oxford, 1995, vol. ii, 7–8. ‘Some consideration of Ibn al-Athir’s al-Ta"rikh al-Bahir and its relationship to the Kamil ’, in Actas XVI Congreso Union européenne des arabisants et islamisants, Salamanca, C. Vazquez de Benito and M.A.M. Rodriquez eds, Barcelona, 1995, 443–446 ‘Mamluk amirs and their families and households’, in The Mamluks in Egyptian Politics and Society, T. Philipp and U. Haarmann, eds, Cambridge, 1998, 32–54 29 entries for Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature, J.S. Meisami and P. Starkey, eds, London, 2 vols., 1998 ‘Some Muslim and Christian documents from Sinai concerning Christian property’, in Law, Christianity and Modernism in Islamic Society, Proceedings of the 18th Congress of the Union européenne des arabisants et islamisants, Leuven, U. Vermeulen and J.M.F. Van Reeth, eds, Leuven, 1998, 161–170 ‘Edward Lane’s surviving Arabic correspondence’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society ix, 1999, 1–25 ‘A late Mamluk document concerning Frankish commercial practice at Tripoli’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies lxii, 1999, 21–35

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‘More on the death of the Ayyubid Sultan al-Íàli˙ Najm al-Dìn Ayyùb’, in The Balance of Truth: Essays in Honour of Professor Geoffrey Lewis, Ç. Balım-Harding and C. Imber, eds, Istanbul, 2000, 269–274 ‘Baybars al-Mansùrì’s Zubdat al-Fikra’, in The Historiography of Islamic Egypt (c. 950–1800), H. Kennedy, ed., Leiden, 2001, 37–44 ‘St Catherine’s Monastery and the bedouin: archival documents of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries’, in Le Sinaï de la conquête arabe à nos jours, J.-M. Mouton, ed., (Cahier des Annales islamologiques, xxi), Cairo, 2001, 141–181 ‘Glimpses of provincial Mamluk society from the documents of the Haram al-Sharif in Jerusalem’, in The Mamluks in Egyptian and Syrian Politics and Society, A. Levanoni and M. Winter, eds, Leiden, forthcoming ‘Primary education under the Mamluks: two documents from the Haram in Jerusalem’, The Arabist (Budapest Studies in Arabic) xxiv–xxv, forthcoming ‘Ramla in the Ayyubid and Mamluk periods’, in The City of Ramla, c. 715–1917: Studies in History, Archaeology and Architecture, D. Pringle, ed., British Academy Monographs in Archaeology, Oxford, forthcoming ‘The office of wilayat al-Qahira’, in Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, Louvain, forthcoming

THE WORD MADE VISIBLE: ARABIC SCRIPT AND THE COMMITTING OF THE QUR"ÀN TO WRITING Alan Jones (Oxford)

The emergence of Arabic script as we know it today remains full of uncertainty and enigma. The paucity of the evidence is so great that there is no real certainty about such a basic matter as the origin of the Arabic alphabet. The few bits of evidence that survive are like a handful of jigsaw pieces from a very large puzzle, neither necessarily congruent nor contiguous. One may get as far as suggesting that Arabic script must be largely descended from the Nabatean scripts.1 However, that is not the whole story: the differentiation of the letters dàl and rà" in Arabic script and the essential lack of differentiation of their equivalents in Nabatean (and in Syriac and Palmyrene for that matter) indicate that other influences must be involved.2 Apart from the very scanty remains,3 we are left to glean what we can from Arabic sources that were not written down until long after Arabic script was fully developed. The first of these sources in importance is the surviving corpus of pre-Islamic poetry. It contains a fair number of references to writing, usually based on the convention by which the traces of an almost effaced, long deserted campsite are compared to written material. Both epigraphic4 and documentary writing are mentioned. Very rarely the same poem refers to both. Thus the Mu'allaqa of Labìd has:

1 See, for example, B. Gruendler, The Development of the Arabic Scripts, Harvard Semitic Studies 43, Atlanta, Georgia, 1993, 1–3. 2 There can be little doubt that the differentiation was due to influence from the south. 3 On the two most interesting inscriptions, from Zebed and from Óarràn, see R. Hoyland, Arabia and the Arabs: from the Bronze Age to the coming of Islam, London, 2001, chapter 8. 4 It may be that the references to epigraphic writings refer more to graffiti than to inscriptions, and possibly there was not too much difference between the two in any case. The miniscule amount of evidence that now survives does not allow us to judge. In any case, epigraphic writing is often marginal to the society that produces it, and this seems to be the case in Arabia.

2

  ∂amina ’l-wu˙iyya silàmu-hà (l.2) the stones there contain writings

and: zuburun tujiddu mutùna-hà aqlàmu-hà (l.8) writings whose texts have been revived by their pens

The majority of references must be assumed to refer to Arabic; but there are some passages that appear to refer, explicitly or implicitly, to south Arabian forms of writing. This can be seen in a passage from Labìd’s qaßìda nùniyya that notoriously begins darasa ’l-manà:5 . . . ka-anna-ha zuburun yurajji'u-hà walìdu yamàni muta'awwidun la˙inun yu'ìdu bi-kaffi-hi qalaman 'alà 'usubin dhabulna wa-bàni . . . as though they were writings over which the Yemeni lad moved back and forth in his accustomed way, clever, his hand moving a pen over dried palm-fronds or over pieces of a ben-tree

Not only does walìdu yamàni point to the south; the terms zubur and 'usub would appear to have South Arabian origins.6 Further, part of a line of Imru" al-Qays refers to Christian writings:7 ka-khatti zabùrin fì maßà˙ifi ruhbàni like a line of writing in the books of monks

and al-Aswad b. Ya'fur refers to Jewish written material:8 sutùru yahùdiyyayni fì muhraqay-himà mujìdayni min Taymà"a aw ahli Madyani the letters of two Jews from Taymà" or the people of Madyan on their parchments which they recite with accomplishment

The accepted view is that these references to writing were part of poetic convention and that the bedu tribesmen themselves were little 5 Labìd, Dìwàn, I. 'Abbàs, ed., Kuwait, 1962, 138. The form al-manà stands for either al-manzilu or al-manàzilu—the commentators disagree on which. 6 On zubur and 'usub (singular 'asìb) see the extremely useful article by M. Maraqten: ‘Writing Material in Pre-Islamic Arabia’, Journal of Semitic Studies, 43(2), Autumn 1998, 292–293 and 301–303. For an illustration see Hoyland, History, plate 34, 205. 7 Imru" al-Qays, Dìwàn, Beirut, Dar Sader, 1958, 173. 8 Al-Aswad b. Ya'fur, Dìwàn, N.Ó. al-Qaisi, ed., Baghdad, 1970, poem 68, line 4.

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concerned with writing, and there seems to be no reason to doubt this.9 That the illiterate ˇarafa likens his camel’s cheek to ‘Syrian parchment’10 seems typical of the convention. Nor does there seem to be an exception in the case of the poet—or two poets—known as al-Muraqqish (probably meaning ‘the one who puts black on white’).11 The traditional view is that the soubriquet stems from part of a line that runs: wa’l-rusùmu ka-ma * raqqasha fì Ωahri ’l-adìmi qalam the traces resemble what a pen has inscribed on the back of the parchment.12

Moving on from the poetry itself, very little is to be found in the background material that accompanies most of the poems or in the ayyàm al-'arab. The stories that have survived are at best problematical, as they were susceptible to recasting and accretion down to Abbasid times; and some of them, such as the placing of copies of the mu'allaqàt on the Ka'ba, appear to be total fiction.13 Nevertheless, it is interesting to note two points from the famous story of the poets al-Mutalammis and ˇarafa being sent off to the governor of alBa˙rayn, each with a note telling the governor to execute the bearer of the note.14 In one way, the story hinges on their illiteracy; in another, there is the assumption that literates would be able to read the contents of the message. Overall, the background material seems to indicate that there was a certain amount of literacy in the settlements, particularly the key centres of al-Óìra, Medina and Mecca. This is plausible, though direct evidence is largely lacking. There is, for example, nothing to link Labìd’s Yemeni youth with any particular place. However, it is 9

We have no indication for instance that the signs used in maysir were in any way related to the Arabic (or any other) alphabet. But see also the final part of note 14. 10 ˇarafa, Mu'allaqa, line 30. 11 Though the ancient authorities distinguish between al-Muraqqish al-Akbar and al-Muraqqish al-Aßghar, there is an argument in favour of there being only one poet. See my Early Arabic Poetry, Reading, 1992–96, ii, 103. 12 Abù al-Faraj, Kitàb al-Aghànì, xxiv, 127. A similar line, but using the verb yukha††i†u also survives. See my Early Arabic Poetry, ii, 105. 13 Cf. al-Suyùtì, al-MuΩhir, Cairo, 1282, ii, 240. 14 For the Mutalammis story see Abù al-Faraj, Kitàb al-Aghànì, xxi, 192–195. For the suggestion that the letter might have been written in Arabic script, while alMutalammis might have known only one of the ‘Thamudic’ scripts, see EI 2, s.v. ‘musnad’.

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4

not unreasonable to suggest that his main concern was with documents and that a settlement was the most likely place where documents would be produced. But even if most of those employed in writing lived in settlements it is unlikely that they were numerous. It is also reasonable to assume that writing in Arabic script was for practical purposes, with other languages and scripts being used for religious purposes. Culturally this would have mattered little in preIslamic times, for cultural material was orally transmitted. However, at a slightly later stage the absence of literate scholars was bound to affect early Islamic society. The early Muslim community had to create its own scholarship. There are other problems about the role of writing among the Arabs in the early seventh century to which we have no clear answer. It is easy enough to accept the generalization that the crucial function of a script, whether alphabetic or not, is to convey a version of the spoken word in a form that can be recognized and understood by a person with knowledge of that script and of the language it encodes. However, it is not clear how this applied in early Arabic documents. Any document that has come down to us through traditional sources15 is now written in a fairly high register, and with no colloquial features. This may not be far from the mark, but it does not tally with what we find in papyri, where colloquialisms are to be found. A further assumption is that the traditional view that Arabic script was defective until Umayyad times16 is correct. This is certainly true of graffiti, but that is hardly the subject of discussion. The graffiti and the traditional view might also incline us to the view that the script functioned largely at an aide-mémoire level. Again it would appear that we are being pointed in the wrong direction. Labìd’s vignette about the Yemeni youth and Abù al-Faraj’s story of the two poets (to refer only to the material already examined) seem to me to point to a fairly full use of writing, even if the script was not yet fully formed.

15

For a collection of such documents see M. Óamidullah, al-Wathà"iq al-siyàsiyya li ’l-'ahd al-nabawiyy wa ’l-khilàfat al-ràshida, Beirut, 1983. 16 On the belief that al-Óajjàj (c. 661–714 AD) was responsible for the implementation of improvements of the script used for writing the Qur"àn, and, by implication, for Arabic script in general, see, for example, T. Nöldeke, Geschichte des Qorans, Leipzig, 1909–38, 2, 3, 260 ff.

   

5

A full use of the script is also indicated by material found in the Sìra. Unlike the hypersceptics, I do believe that the Sìra contains a residuum of fact and that there is a minute amount of external material to corroborate this.17 However, I have the gravest doubts about most of the material that has survived about the Meccan period of Mu˙ammad’s life. Accordingly I am unwilling to accept the story of 'Umar’s conversion to Islam18 at face value, nor do I place much credence in the story about the ‘boycott document’.19 However, I do accept that there is evidence for the Hijra, and I see no cogent reasons to reject the authenticity of the treaty documents now known as the Constitution of Medina,20 and I would accept that these treaties involved the use of writing. We might also wish to take account of some of the detail in the story about the expedition to Nakhla in Rajab of 2 AH/634 AD. Guillaume translates the piece as follows in his Life of Muhammad: The apostle sent 'Abdullah b. Ja˙sh21 . . . with eight emigrants . . . He wrote for him a letter, and ordered him not to look at it until he had journeyed for two days; and to do what he was ordered to do, but not to put pressure on any of his companions . . .22 When 'Abdullah had travelled for two days he opened the letter and looked into it; and this is what it said: “When you have read this letter of mine proceed until you reach Nakhla between Mecca and Al-ˇà"if. Lie in wait there for Quraysh and find out for us what they are doing”. Having read the letter he said, “To hear is to obey”.

17 I like Fred Donner’s phrase ‘historical kernel’, but there are many occasions when the residuum is not a historical point. The real problem is that there is usually no independent corroboration, and the question of accepting the residuum then becomes very thorny. For one case of such corroboration see the comments on papyrus PERF558 below. 18 Ibn Hishàm, Sìra, ed. al-Saqqà" et al., eds, Cairo, 1955, i, 344. 19 The boycott story is almost certainly apocryphal but interesting. A. Guillaume (Life of Muhammad, London, 1955, 159) translates as follows: . . . Quraysh . . . came together and decided among themselves to write a document in which they should put a boycott on B. Hashim and B. Muttalib that they should not marry their women nor give women to them to marry; and that they should neither buy from them nor sell to them, and when they agreed on that they wrote it in a deed. Then they solemnly agreed on the points and hung the deed up in the middle of the Ka'ba to remind them of their obligations. [Ibn Hishàm, Sìra, i, 350.] 20 Ibn Hishàm, Sìra, i, 501 ff. 21 'Abdullah b. Ja˙sh was the brother of Zaynab bint Ja˙sh, who was later to become one of Mu˙ammad’s, wives. (See Q 33:37). 22 The key bit of the Arabic text is kataba lahu kitàban wa-amara-hu allà yanΩura fìhi ˙attà yasìra yawmayni thumma yanΩura fì-hi fa-yam∂iya li-mà amara-hu bi-hi wa-là yastakriha min aß˙àbi-hi a˙dan. [Ibn Hishàm, Sìra, i, 601]

 

6

Most Western scholars are now fairly reluctant to accept at face value any story that provides a reason for the revelation of a Qur"ànic verse (sabab al-nuzùl ). This is certainly the case for at least part of the Nakhla story, which can be linked to Q 2:217: yas"alùna-ka 'ani ’l-shahri ’l-˙aràm qitàlin fì-hi qul qitàlun fì-hi kabìr wa-ßaddun 'an sabìli ’llàhi wa-kufrun bi-hi wa-’l-masjidi ’l-˙aràm wa-ikhràju ahli-hi min-hu akbaru 'inda ’llàh They ask you about the sacred month and fighting in it. Say, “Fighting in it is grievous; but turning [people] from God’s way and unbelief in Him and [turning people away from] the Sacred Mosque and expelling His people from it is more grievous with God”.

However, another part of the story concerns the first killing in warfare of a non-Muslim, 'Amr b. al-Óa∂ramì, by a Muslim, Wàqid b. 'Abdallàh. It is unlikely that a story inextricably linked with such an important event for the new community can be largely fictitious. The story about the sealed orders raises another problem, which can only be touched on here: whether the use of the verb kataba implies that Mu˙ammad himself wrote the letter. That is a reasonable interpretation, in view of the need to keep the expedition’s orders secret. However, following the development of the view that the Prophet was illiterate, it became traditional to posit that at least a scribe had been involved. Watt takes this viewpoint further, saying that the contents were “known only to himself, his scribe and a few trusted advisers”.23 That is not the way to plug leaks. The original perception of the piece must surely have been that the Prophet wrote down the orders and sent 'Abdallàh on his way; and that two days later 'Abdallàh read the document, the contents of which he had been previously unaware. There is of course some parallel with the Mutalammis\ˇarafa story, and one can argue that a legendary theme is being used here too; but equally one might suspect that in early Islamic times no problem was perceived in the notion of the Prophet writing a message.

23

Watt, W.M., Muhammad at Medina, Oxford, 1956, 6.

   

7

Apart from the Nakhla incident, the only story that depicts the Prophet as directly involved with a piece of writing is that about the treaty of al-Óudaybiya, which has him striking out the basmala, at the beginning of the document that was to fix the truce.24 Otherwise he is shown in the accounts covering his later years as having various documents drawn up. Among them are the letters said to have been sent by the Prophet to some rulers and to various tribes.25 The originals of several of these are alleged to survive, but their authenticity is extremely doubtful.26 There is one nice story that perhaps encapsulates the pre-Islamic bedu’s view of writing: that the Prophet sent a letter on jild (leather) to the tribe of al-Óàritha b. 'Amr b. QurayΩ; they took it, washed it, and patched their leather bucket with it.27 The final pieces of evidence about writing that we have to consider from the Sìra are the accounts of dictation of parts of the Qur"àn. Tradition has it firmly that at least some of the Qur"àn was committed to writing during Mu˙ammad’s lifetime. There is no agreement when the copying started or how much of it was copied during his lifetime, though most references are linked to the final years of his residence in Medina. This writing is said to have been done by a small group of scribes, known as the kuttàb al-wa˙y ‘scribes of the revelation’.28 There are no comments about the script used, but the traditional view lurks in the background.

24 See, for example, al-Bukhàrì, al-Jàmi' al-ßa˙ìh, kitàb al-ßul˙, bàb 6 (Krehl edition, ii, 167): fa-akhadha rasùlu ’llàhi . . . al-kitàba fa-kataba “hàdhà mà qà∂à 'alay-hi Mu˙ammadu bnu 'Abdi ’llàhi . . .” 25 Ibn Hishàm, Sìra, ii, 606 ff. See also note 15. 26 An alleged copy of a letter from the Prophet to Kisrà was tested in 2000 at the Oxford University Archaeology Research Laboratory by carbon dating. The tests showed the parchment on which the document was written not to date from the time of the Prophet but from at least 700 years later. 27 Maraqten, Writing Material, 291, quoting J. 'Ali, al-Mufaßßal fì tàrìkh al-'arab qabla l-islàm, Beirut, 1980, viii, 303. 28 Most prominent among the kuttàb al-wa˙y was Zayd b. Thàbit. Others mentioned are 'Uthmàn, Mu'àwiya, Ubayy b. Ka'b, and 'Abdallàh b. Abì Sar˙. A story involving 'Abdallàh b. Abì Sar˙ and the dictation of 23:12–14 perhaps offers circumstantial evidence that dictation did take place. We are told by al-Zamakhsharì that Mu˙ammad dictated to 'Abdallàh the passage that begins at 23:12 and that when he was part way through 23:14 he paused and 'Abdallàh added aloud the phrase fa-tabàraka ’llàhu a˙sanu ’l-khàliqìn “and blessed be God, best of the creators”. Mu˙ammad told him to write the phrase down, as those were the actual words of the revelation. al-Zamakhsharì tells us that Mu˙ammad’s apparently uncertain grasp of the revelation shattered 'Abdallàh’s confidence in him, and caused him to return

8

 

There is a remarkable contrast between the scanty gleanings set out above and what we find in the Qur"àn. First, the appurtenances of writing, though not frequently mentioned, are pretty well represented in the Qur"ànic vocabulary: qalam, raqq, qir†às, sijill,29 law˙, ßu˙uf, zubur,30 midàd, etc. Unfortunately there is nothing about the script beyond the odd phrase such as kitàb mas†ùr [52:2] and kitàb marqùm [83:9 and 20], which do not add to our overall knowledge. However, the riches about writing lie with the single root k-t-b, which is a key item in Qur"ànic vocabulary. There are over 50 examples of the verb kataba, which are fairly evenly split between the concrete ‘to write’ and the abstract ‘to prescribe’. However, this is overshadowed by the use of kitàb, which is the tenth most common noun in the text, with over 250 occurrences.31 There are no real surprises about the meanings of kitàb, though perhaps they have a greater range than most of the central items of Qur"ànic vocabulary. In over 200 of the occurrences it means what is normally translated as ‘scripture’, with most of the rest meaning ‘document’, ‘record’ or ‘decree’, with a couple of examples each of ‘letter’ and ‘fixed time’ bringing up the rear. However, usage and context show that when kitàb means ‘scripture’ it is hardly ever concrete in sense. Look, for example, at the refrain-like sentence from Sùrat Maryam:32

to Mecca as an apostate. One may argue that as 'Abdallàh was a member of the Umayyad clan the story is simply an anti-Umayyad fabrication. However, the story does not show the Prophet in a favourable light, and it is questionable whether anti-Umayyad material would be fabricated at his expense. 29 The only Qur"ànic example of sijill shows a peculiar shift of meaning [21:104]: ka-†ayyi l-sijilli li-’l-kutub/as a recorder rolls up records. 30 The Qur"àn has two forms zubur and zabùr. It is the linking of zabùr with David in 4:163 and 17:55 that leads to the interpretation ‘psalms’, and this probably applies to 21:105. The meaning ‘psalms’ or, perhaps ‘scriptures’ also seems to apply when zubur is linked to bayyinàt or rusul (or both), as here and in 16:44 and 35:25; but this does not necessarily apply in other instances: in 26:196, 54:43 and 55:52 it appears to mean ‘scrolls’. 31 Kitàb occurs 255 times and its plural kutub six. There are 50 examples of the verb kataba, with six instances of the active participle and one of the passive participle. There are also two instances of the derived forms; one of kàtaba and one of iktataba. On the latter see note 35. 32 In Sùrat Maryam the formula in verses 16, 41, 51, 54, 56 refers respectively to Maryam, Abraham, Moses, Ishmael and Idrìs.

   

9

wa-dhkur fì ’l-kitàbi . . . Mention . . . in the Scripture

In theory one might think that in such phrases kitàb could have a concrete sense, but there is actually no Qur"ànic evidence to show that this is so. On the contrary, what evidence there is points solely to an abstract meaning. There is, for example, the fact that qur"àn ‘recitation’ and kitàb ‘scripture’ are to some extent interchangeable. Compare, for example, 15:1 and 27:1: tilka àyàtu ’l-kitàbi wa-qur"ànin mubìn These are the signs of the Scripture and of a clear Recitation tilka àyàtu ’l-qur"àni wa-kitàbin mubìn These are the revelations of the Recitation and a clear Scripture

There are also two passages containing stories about the Jinn that deserve notice. In the first (46:29–30 probably chronologically the later) we find: wa-idh ßarafnà ilay-ka nafaran mina ’l-jinn yastami'ùna ’l-qur"àn fa-lammà ˙a∂arù-hu qàlù anßitù fa-lammà qu∂iya wallaw ilà qawmi-him mundhirìn qàlù yà qawma-nà innà sami'nà kitàbà unzila min ba'di Mùsà mußaddiqan li-mà bayna yaday-hi yahdì ilà ’l-˙aqqi wa-ilà †arìqin mustaqìm And [recall] when We turned to you a number of the Jinn, who listened to the Recitation. When they attended it, they said, “Be silent”, and when it was finished, they went back to their people as warners. They said, “Our people, we have heard a Scripture that has been sent down after Moses, confirming what was before it, guiding to the truth and to a straight path”.

The ‘Recitation’ of v. 29 is transformed into the ‘Scripture’ of v. 30. There is a briefer version of this passage in 72:1, which runs:

 

10

qul ù˙iya ilayya anna-hu stama'a nafarun mina ’l-jinni fa-qalù innà sami'nà qur"ànan 'ajaban Say, “It has been revealed to me that a group of Jinn listened and said, ‘We have heard a marvellous recitation’ . . .”

Here the innà sami'nà kitàban of 46:30 is varied to innà sami'nà qur"ànan. Clearly, there no difficulty here in ‘hearing’ a ‘scripture’, and there are also a number of verses which refer to the ‘scripture’ being recited.33 There are, however, other passages that show the essential relationship between the two words is more complex, with kitàb referring to a heavenly exemplar and qur"àn to an earthly recitation. Thus in 41:3 we find: kitàbun fußßilat àyàtu-hu qur"ànan 'arabiyyà A Scripture whose signs are expounded as a Recitation in Arabic

and in 43:2–3: wa-’l-kitàbi ’l-mubìn innà ja'alnà-hu qur"ànan 'arabiyyà By the clear Scripture —We have made it a Recitation in Arabic

On the basis of these and similar34 passages, one can make a good case for arguing that ‘divine message’ would give a clearer indication of the meaning of kitàb than ‘scripture’ does. God does not transmit the divine message to His messengers in writing. This is shown by 6:7 where the phrase that looks positive in isolation: nazzalnà 'alay-ka kitàban fì qir†às We sent down to you a Scripture on parchment

turns out to be negative in implication, as it is preceded by wa-law, indicating an unreal condition: wa-law nazzalnà 'alay-ka kitàban fì qir†às Had We sent down to you a Scripture on parchment.

33

See 2:44, 2:113, 2:121, 4:126, 17:93, 29:51; also 29:48 quoted below. For example, where one has the phrase kitàb mubìn: 5:19, 6:59, 12:1, 13:1, 26:2 etc. 34

   

11

That the committing of the divine message to a written form is a secondary stage after the revelation, is indicated most clearly by another verse in the same sùra, 6:91a: qul man anzala ’l-kitàba ’lladhì jà"a bi-hi Mùsà nùran wa-hudàn li-l-nàs taj'alùna-hu qarà†ìs tubdùna-hà wa-tukhfùna kathìrà Say, “Who sent down the Scripture which Moses brought as a light and a guidance to the people? You put it [on] parchments, revealing them, but concealing much”.

In one passage, 29:48, a verse denying that Mu˙ammad had had a revelation before the Qur"àn, writing may be seen as having the same standing as recitation: wa-mà kunta tatlù min qabli-hi min kitàb wa-là takhu††u-hu bi-yamìni-ka You did not recite any scripture before this nor did you write it with your right hand.

However, the Prophet is never given the command ‘write’, though from time to time he is told ‘recite’.35 Nevertheless, the importance of written scripture is acknowledged in such early passages as 52:2–3: wa-kitàbin mas†ùr fì raqqin manshùr By a scripture inscribed On unrolled parchment

and 87:18–19: inna hàdhà la-fì ’l-ßu˙ufi ’l-ùlà ßu˙ufi Ibràhìma wa-Mùsà This is in the ancient scrolls, the scrolls of Abraham and Moses.

35 The singular imperative iqra" ‘recite’ is found in 17:14 and 96:1 and 3. The plural iqra"ù occurs in 73:30, and there are also half a dozen examples of utlu.

12

 

It is several times acknowledged that the People of the Book, as they are generally known, have written versions of the Scripture, and what they do with them is commented on very adversely in 2:79: fa-waylun li-lladhìna yaktubùna ’l-kitàba bi-aydì-him thumma yaqùlùna hàdhà min 'indi llàh li-yashtarù bi-hi thamanan qalìlà fa-waylun la-hum mimmà katabat aydì-him wa-waylun la-hum mimmà yaksibùn Woe to those who write the Scripture with their own hands and then say, “This is from God”, so that they may sell it for a paltry price. Woe to them for what their hands have written. Woe to them for what they earn.

In the end none of the passages containing the root k-t-b can be said to encourage the writing of the divine message, but there is one verse, 25:5, that indicates that the Meccans linked writing to the revelation, in a pejorative way. The previous verse sets the background: 4. wa-qàla ’lladhìna kafarù in hàdhà illà ifkun iftarà-hu wa-à'àna-hu 'alay-hi qawmun àkharùn fa-qad jà"ù Ωulmàn wa-zùrà Those who do not believe say, “This is merely a lie that he has invented, and others have helped him with it”. They have produced wrong and falsehood. 5. wa-qàlù asà†ìru ’l-awwalìna ktataba-hà fa-hiya tumlà 'alay-hi bukratan wa-aßìlà And they say, “Fables of the ancients that he has had written down;36 and they are dictated to him morning and evening”.

On the other hand, when it comes to the use of writing for practical purposes the Qur"àn is strongly in favour. The key passage is a lengthy one, 2:282–3a:

36

This is the standard way of understanding iktataba, but it could possibly be ‘he has written down for himself ’.

   

13

282. yà ayyuhà ’lladhìna àmanù idhà tadayantum bi-daynin ilà ajalin musammà fa’ktubù-hu wa’l-yaktub bayna-kum kàtibun bi’l-'adl wa-là ya"ba kàtibun an yaktuba kamà 'allama-hu ’llàh fa’l-yaktub wa’l-yumlili ’lladhì 'alà ’l-Haqq wa’l-yattaqi ’llàha rabba-hu wa-là yabkhas min-hu shay"à O you who believe, when you contract debts with one another for a fixed term, record it in writing. Let a scribe record it justly in writing between you. Let no scribe refuse to write in the way that God has taught him. Let him write and let the one who has incurred the debt dictate, and let him fear his Lord, God, and let him not diminish any of it. 282a. fa-in kàna ’lladhì 'alay-hi ’l-˙aqqu safìhà aw ∂a'ìfan aw là yasta†ì'u an yumilla huwa fa’l-yumlil waliyyu-hu bi’l-'adl If the one who has incurred the debt is a fool or weak or unable to dictate, let his friend dictate justly. 282b. wa-stashhidù shahìdayni min rijàli-kum fa-in lam yakùnà rajulayn fa-rajulun wa’mra"atàn mimman tar∂awna mina ’l-shuhadà" an ta∂illa i˙dà-humà fa-tudhakkira i˙dà-humà ’l-ukhrà wa-là ya"ba ’l-shuhadà" idhà mà du'ù Call two of your men to act as witnesses; and if there are not two men, one man and two women from those you are satisfied with as witnesses, so that if one of the women goes astray the other can remind her; and let not witnesses refuse, whenever they are summoned. 282c. wa-là tas"amù an taktubù-hu ßaghìran aw kabìrà ilà ajali-hi

14

  dhàlikum aqsa†u 'inda ’llàhi wa-aqwamu li-’l-shahàda wa-adnà allà tartàbù Do not be averse to writing it down, big or little, [with] its term. That is more equitable with God and surer for testimony, and more likely to stop you being in doubt. 282d. illà an takùna tijàratan ˙à∂ira tudìrùna-hà bayna-kum fa-laysa 'alay-kum junà˙un allà taktubù-hà wa-ushhidù idhà tabaya'tum wa-là yu∂àrra kàtibun wa-là shahìd wa-in taf 'alù fa-inna-hu fusùqun bi-kum wa’ttaqù llàha wa-yu'allim-kumu ’llàh wa’llàhu bi-kulli shay"in 'alìm This will not be the case with merchandise in your presence that you circulate amongst you, when there is no fault for you not to record it —but have witnesses when you are trading with one another, and let not a scribe or witness be harmed. If you do [harm], that is a sin for you. Fear God. God is teaching you. God is aware of everything. 283. wa-in kuntum 'alà safar wa-lam tajidù kàtibà fa-rihànun maqbù∂a fa-in amina ba'∂u-kum ba'∂à fal-yu"addi ’lladhì ’tumina amànata-hu wa’l-yattaqi ’llàha rabba-hu If you are on a journey and you do not find a scribe, let there be a pledge taken; but if one of you trusts another, let the one who is trusted deliver his trust, and let him fear his Lord, God. 283a. wa-là taktumù ’l-shahàda wa-man yaktum-hà fa-inna-hu àthimun qalbu-hu wa’llàhu bi-mà ta'malùna 'alìm Do not conceal testimony. Whoever does so, his heart is sinful. God is aware of what you do.

   

15

We should also note the much shorter 24:33a: wa’lladhìna yabtaghùna ’l-kitàba mimmà malakat aymànu-kum fa-kàtibù-hum in 'alimtum fì-him khayrà Such of those whom your right hands possess who seek the document write it for them if you know some good in them

It is traditionally thought that in this verse ‘the document’ means ‘a document of manumission’, but the view that it means ‘a marriage contract’ seems to me to be somewhat more likely.37 In either case writing is stipulated for a practical purpose, and this is precisely the same thrust that we see in 2:282–3a. It would seem that these stipulations about the writing of documents take over—and possibly extend—pre-Islamic sunna. They were effective. We know from papyri that survive in Egypt that the writing of documents for practical purposes was current with the Muslim conquerors no later than 22 AH/643 AD. The key papyrus from that date, PERF558, now in Vienna, notably has both dates: in Arabic ‘the month Jumàdà I of the year Twenty-Two’ and in Greek ‘the 30th day of the month of Pharmouthi of the Indiction year 1’ (25 April 643 AD).38 This invaluable date39 is not the only important thing about PERF558. The script is more advanced than we might expect. The Arabic text is written in a clear cursive hand; and it contains a fair sprinkling of dots. There are dotted forms of six letters [ jìm, khà", dhàl, zày, shìn and nùn, all of which letters are also to be found without dots]; there are some long vowels [à, ì, and ù are all to be found, though medial à is most frequently omitted]; and there are some examples of alif maqßùra. The existence of such dots, both in PERF558 and other papyri, indicates that the traditional accounts of the development of Arabic diacritics must be wrong. We may then think that there is another jot of evidence in a hemistich from Labìd"s qaßìda mìmiyya beginning 'afà ’l-rasmu am la.40 It runs:

37 Patricia Crone sets out a cogent case for the ‘marriage contract’ in her article ‘Two legal problems bearing on the early history of the Qur"àn’, JSAI 18, 1994, 3 ff. 38 See my article ‘The Dotting of a Script and the Dating of an Era’, Islamic Culture, 72(4), October 1998, 95–103. 39 The Greek date offers us independent evidence for the dating of the hijra. 40 Dìwàn, 278.

16

  li-Asmà"a rasmun ka-’l-ßa˙ìfati a'jamà There is a trace of Asmà" that has become dotted like a sheet of writing.41

It has always been thought that the development of the Kufic script— undotted—was a concomitant of the Qur"àn’s being committed to writing. That may be so, but it would then point to a two-track evolution of Arabic script in the seventh century.

41

M. Lyons, (Identification and Identity in Classical Arabic Poetry, Warminster, 1999, 351) translates li-Asmà"a rasmun ka-’l-ßa˙ìfati a'jamà as “there is a trace belonging to Asmà like a page that has been dotted”; while the notes in the Dìwàn have là yabìnu. Neither reflects the Arabic fully. The verb a'jamà must refer to the noun rasmun. Thus it is the ‘trace’ that is dotted. The suggestion that a'jamà might have the alternative meaning ‘to be indistinct’ would appear to be ruled out by the simile.

CALIPHS AND THEIR CHRONICLERS IN THE MIDDLE ABBASID PERIOD (THIRD/NINTH CENTURY)* Hugh Kennedy (St Andrews)

Early Islamic historiography has been subject to a considerable amount of critical interest in recent years and a lively and informed debate has ensued about the composition, purpose and reliability of the Arabic accounts of the first century of Islamic history.1 Much less attention has been paid to the historiography of the Abbasid period. This is partly because the problems are clearly different.2 Much of the material was written down at the time. Indeed some of the great compilers like al-Madà"inì (d. c. 235/850) and al-ˇabarì (d. 310/923)

* I am grateful to Chase Robinson for his editing of, and valuable suggestions about, this article. 1 For the problems posed by the early Muslim sources see A. Noth and L.I. Conrad, The Early Arabic Historical Tradition: A Source Critical Study, M. Bonner, tr., Princeton, 1994. For an excellent introduction to the origins and early development of Islamic historiography, F.M. Donner, Narratives of Islamic Origins, Princeton, 1998. Scholars might like to note the description of editing events to fit a literary form given by Dave Eggers in his recent novel, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, London and New York, 2000, ix, “All the individual words and sentences have been run through a conveyor, manufactured like: 1) they are remembered; 2) they are written; 3) they are rewritten, to sound more accurate; 4) they are edited to fit within the narrative (though keeping with their essential truth); 5) they are rewritten again, to spare the author and other characters the shame of sounding as stupid as they inevitably do . . .” Such, in essence, was probably the production process of much early Islamic historiography. 2 The most important discussions of the historiography of the Abbasid period are J. Lassner, Islamic Revolution and Historical Memory: An Inquiry into the Art of 'Abbàsid Apologetics, New Haven, 1986, T. El-Hibri, Reinterpreting Islamic Historiography, Cambridge, 1999 and M. Cooperson, Classical Arabic Biography, Cambridge, 2000. Lassner focuses on the traditions surrounding the emergence of the Abbasid movement in Umayyad times. El-Hibri examines the multi-layered, akhbàr-based narratives concerning such controversial subjects as the fall of the Barmakids, the death of al-Amìn and the reputation of al-Ma"mùn. Cooperson’s work discusses the developing image of key figures in the political and religious life of the caliphate, including the Caliph alMa"mum, in the first half of the third/ninth century. None of them discuss the linear narratives of military events with which this paper is concerned. For a short but useful discussion of the Arabic sources for the Samarra period, M. Gordon, The Breaking of a Thousand Swords: A History of the Turkish Military of Samarra, Albany, 2001, 8–14.

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were actually contemporaries of the events they record. The problem of relying on accounts which were written down a century or more after the events they describe is not so acute in the Abbasid context. Nor are the issues as far reaching. Numerous historical questions: what the Prophet had done on particular occasions, how Abù Bakr was chosen as caliph, why 'Uthmàn was murdered, in what way the Battle of Siffin ended and many others, had fundamental implications for the development of political and religious practice. Inevitably they became the subject of a fierce polemic, designed to prove a particular point of view rather than to provide historical analysis—it was much more difficult to challenge the well-known outlines of Abbasid history, or to use the historiography to raise fundamental issues of faith and practice. However, there were still areas in which the historiography of contemporary events could be, and was, used to make political statements. Throughout early Islamic history, the legitimisation of rule remained a problem for caliphs and would-be caliphs. The absence of clearly defined rules of succession, or clear mechanisms for choosing a new caliph, meant that there was considerable uncertainty. By the early Abbasid period, a modified hereditary system had been generally accepted, although whether the descendants of 'Alì or the descendants of al-'Abbàs were the just rulers was still hotly debated. However, there were cases in the early history of the Abbasid caliphate when the succession was seized by a member of the ruling family who was not the designated heir of the previous caliph. In these cases the usurper had to provide justification for his coup d’état. Two of these successions are of interest for this paper, the accession of al-Mu'taßim in 218/833 and of al-Mu'ta∂id in 279/892. A great deal of the information we have about the Abbasid Caliphate in the third/ninth century comes from the pages of alˇabarì’s Ta"rìkh al-rusul wa’l-mulùk (History of the Prophets and Kings) which takes the story of the Caliphate down to the accession of alMuqtadir in 295/908. Until around the end of the second century of Islam, al-ˇabarì’s narratives are mostly constructed as collections of individual accounts, akhbàr, introduced by their isnàds, chains of transmitters, to confirm their authenticity. He was careful to maintain this structure and continued to do this even when incorporating already elaborated historical works like 'Umar b. Shabba’s account of the rebellion of Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh the Pure Soul. In the third/ninth cen-

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tury, however, the structure of his narratives changes markedly. Akhbàr are still quoted occasionally, usually concerning some aspect of court gossip or intrigue. Most of his account of this period is based on a quite different literary form, the linear prose narrative. Events are presented in a simple consecutive form, one happening following another, usually in strict chronological order. The language is simple and direct, and contradictory or alternative accounts are seldom presented. There is very little poetry. Furthermore, some of these narratives are anonymous and presented without any isnàd at all. Only al-ˇabarì’s insistence on keeping to the annalistic form, thereby dividing accounts between different years, breaks up the flow of the narrative. The form leaves little doubt that these accounts were not part of an oral tradition but were written compositions from the beginning, subsequently edited by al-ˇabarì and incorporated into his account. So, in contrast with the vivid polemic of the early Islamic narrative, we are presented with what appears to be a sober, even perhaps a slightly tedious, narrative. Should we therefore assume that this is some sort of official gazette, a narrative which simply aims to record ‘what actually happened’ for the benefit of a curious and grateful posterity? But as Donner has reminded us, “history is always written because it is deemed useful in some way”3 and objective recording is unlikely to provide the whole explanation. Al-Mu'taßim came to the throne by peaceful coup d’état on the death of his brother al-Ma"mùn in 218/833. In doing so he pushed aside the dead Caliph’s son al-'Abbàs. He was able to do this because he had control of a small but effective army of mostly Turkish slaves, ex-slaves and others which he had gradually built up during the previous decade. In the course of his reign, he launched a series of aggressive campaigns along the northern frontiers of the caliphate. The two which concern us most are the campaign against Bàbak in Azerbayjan (219–222/834–37)4 and the conquest of the Byzantine city of Amorion in 233/838.5 Both these campaigns were recorded in great detail.

3 4 5

Donner, Narratives, 117. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, Leiden, 1879–1901, iii, 1186–1226. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1236–1256.

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Bàbak al-Khurramì 6 had established himself as the leader of a resistance movement in the mountainous areas of northern Azerbayjan from about 201/816–17. His rebellion was essentially anti-Muslim and at least some of his followers were known as Khurramìs belonging to a sect which seems to have been a branch of the Mazdakites of Sasanian Iran. One important consequence of this was that Abbasid sources could, whether accurately or not, describe his followers as non-Muslims and hence the campaign against him was a jihàd. Bàbak defeated all expeditions sent against him until the Caliph al-Mu'taßim sent his trusted commander, al-Afshìn, with a large army in 220/835. The campaign lasted until August 222/837 when Bàbak’s capital at al-Budhdh was taken by storm by al-Afshìn’s army. Bàbak himself was subsequently captured and taken to Samarra where he was cruelly executed in Safar 223/January 838. Al-Afshìn’s campaigns against Bàbak are described in a long prose narrative.7 In view of the favourable image of al-Afshìn as military commander and loyal servant of the caliph, this account must have been composed between the end of the campaign in 223/838 and the trial and execution of al-Afshìn in Sha'bàn 226/June 841.8 There is no indication of who the author might have been. Though writing in Arabic, he was clearly a Persian speaker, since at two points he takes care to explain Persian names to a non-Persian speaking audience.9 At other points he uses Persian technical terms to described

6 For a good general account of Bàbak see G.-Ó. Yùsofì, ‘Bàbak Korramì’ in Encyclopaedia Iranica. 7 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1171–1179, 1187–1194, 1195–1228. Other, much shorter, accounts are to be found in al-Ya'qùbì, Ta"rìkh, Leiden, 1883, ii, 578–579 and alMas'ùdì, Murùj al-Dhahab, Beirut, 1973, vii, 123–127. See also the poem of Abù Tammàm discussed in S.P. Stetkevych, Abù Tammàm and the Poetics of the 'Abbàsid Age, Leiden, 1991, text 372–375, translation and commentary, 156–186. Bàbak’s early days and beliefs are described in the Fihrist on the basis of an account by an otherwise unknown author called Wàqid b. 'Amr al-Tamìmi (Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, Tehran, 1971, 406; Dodge, tr., New York, 1970, 818–822). However, it is clear that al-ˇabarì did not use Wàqid’s account for his narrative. No other literature about Bàbak is mentioned by Ibn al-Nadìm. 8 It is of course possible that the narrative was composed after al-Afshìn’s execution in an effort to rehabilitate him. Ushrùsanìs, including some members of alAfshìn’s family, continued to play an important part in the Abbasid army. However, the closely written narrative of military affairs and the emphasis on al-Afshìn’s good relations with the Caliph militate against this possibility. We have no other evidence from the sources for an attempt at posthumous rehabilitation. 9 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1178, 1195.

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military units.10 For reasons discussed below, it is clear that the writer was an admirer of al-Afshìn and may have been part of his entourage. It is possible that the author was al-Afshìn’s brother, al-Fa∂l b. Kàwùs, or someone close to him. The reason for suggesting this lies in the account of Bughà al-Kabìr’s part in the campaign. This account11 is hostile to Bughà but is clearly based on an eyewitness and contains a good deal of closely observed detail. It tells us that al-Afshìn sent his brother, al-Fa∂l, along with others, to accompany Bughà on this expedition.12 During the course of the march, al-Fa∂l is portrayed giving Bughà advice; someone else ( ghayrahu) gives opposite advice. Bughà takes the other advice and disaster ensues.13 For the same period, we have only an outline of al-Afshìn’s own activities. The narrative has an unmistakable hero, al-Afshìn himself. He is a hero with a clearly defined set of qualities. Though generous with money, or more probably, the Caliph’s money,14 he was not flamboyant or extravagant, nor did he perform outstanding feats of personal bravery. Rather he was careful and competent, shrewd and thoughtful, proved right when his subordinates were proved wrong. Like any good general in a hostile and unknown environment, he took great care to build fortifications and post lookouts on the mountain tops. Commissariat was important and the narrative describes in detail the efforts he made to keep his men supplied with food. Alone of all the military leaders of the period, he is shown to have made efforts to help the wounded.15 The striking feature of the narrative is not that he did these things, but that the account stresses them and describes them in great detail, rather than stressing charismatic leadership or personal courage. Al-Afshìn is not the only commander the account treats with respect. The Bukhàra-Khùdàh, an eastern Iranian aristocrat like alAfshìn, is portrayed as a bold and effective leader. The celebrated

10 Isbahbadh rather than qà"id for Bàbak’s commanders (iii, 1172, 1178); kùhbàniyya for mountain troops (1188, 1196–1197; for this term see the discussion in Bosworth, tr., 38, n. 138); kilghariyya for sappers (1199, also Bosworth, tr., 52, n. 165). 11 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1187–1193. 12 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1188. 13 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1192–1193. Note also al-Fa∂l’s speech berating Ja'far b. Khayyà† for incompetence (1207). 14 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1212. 15 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1214. He sent doctors (muta†abbibìn), litters (ma˙àmil ) on mules to pick them up.

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frontier warrior, Abu Sa'ìd Mu˙ammad b. Yùsuf al-Marwazì is reliable and brave. Interestingly though, neither of these two have speaking parts; their role is described but they do not appear as personalities who could steal the limelight. The narrator also singles out some commanders for blame or contempt. Bughà al-Kabìr, later to be one of the leading figures of the Samarra military, is one such.16 His first failure was to lead his men into hostile territory without adequate supplies, against al-Afshìn’s explicit orders, so that they had to disperse to forage and were pounced upon by the enemy.17 Later he and his army could not endure the cold so retreated. He also failed to maintain discipline and cohesion on a night march. Finally he was dismissed by alAfshìn and sent away in disgrace.18 Ja'far b. Dìnàr al-Khayyà†, who was to have a long military and administrative career, was another object of al-Afshìn’s wrath and the narrator’s contempt, on account of his alleged disobedience and incompetence. He also had a wellpublicised altercation with al-Afshìn’s brother, al-Fa∂l.19 The narrative of the Bàbak campaign also stresses al-Afshìn’s relations with the mu††awwi'a, the irregulars who volunteered for the jihàd. The narrative shows them as enthusiastic but reckless and easily discouraged by setbacks. At one stage, a number of them thought of abandoning the campaign because of the hardships. Al-Afshìn is shown to be angry when their rashness and ill discipline have put his own forces in jeopardy.20 Later he is portrayed as supportive, encouraging them with resources and supplies despite their poor contribution to the war effort.21 Throughout, it is made clear that the real weight of the campaign was borne by the steadfast troops of the Caliph’s army ( jund ) who were paid regular salaries (arzàq) and would stay with their commander ‘through heat and cold’.22 The moral is clear: the pious enthusiasts may seem to be the standard bearers of Islam, but in fact the real heroes of the religious war are al-Afshìn’s regulars.

16 He was later to have his revenge when he was ordered to bind al-Afshìn after his trial and take him to prison (al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1313). 17 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1187. 18 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1189–73. 19 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1205–1207. 20 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1205–1207. 21 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1209–1211. 22 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1209.

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The Caliph, though distant, is in overall control of the campaign. It was he who appointed al-Afshìn in the first place23 and it was he who supplied the money to finance the operations.24 He also issued detailed orders about how patrols should be mounted, which alAfshìn was bound to obey,25 and it was he who sent a gold-sealed safe-conduct that al-Afshìn was able to offer Bàbak.26 In short, the Caliph was the active prime mover of the whole glorious expedition who, in destroying this enemy of Islam, had succeeded where his predecessor al-Ma"mùn had failed.27 These narratives, like the court poetry which also celebrates these victories, are part of an attempt to claim legitimacy for both the new ruler and for the newly recruited army which brought him to power. How this narrative was published and used is not entirely clear. However, al-Mas'ùdì describes the reaction in Samarra when news arrived of Bàbak’s defeat and arrest. “The people shouted out in praise of God and happiness and pleasure spread among them. Kutub (letters or books) were written to the main cities (amßàr) about the conquest”.28 Could it be that the text al-ˇabarì has incorporated into his chronicle is in fact one of the kutub issued to publicise the Caliph’s and al-Afshìn’s success? The narrative of al-Mu'taßim’s campaign against Amorion in 223/ 838 is the second narrative to be considered. It should be read along with the following narrative of the unmasking and destruction of the conspiracy of al-'Abbàs b. al-Ma"mùn with which it shares certain common characteristics.29 As in the case of the Bàbak narrative, no author is named. At one point the narrative is broken by an introductory qàla (he said) which marks a shift from the narrative of Ashinàs’ movements to those of the Caliph,30 although there is no 23

Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1170–1, 1207. Stetkevych, Abù Tammàm, 197, notes the problems caused to the poet Abù Tammàm by the fact that the caliph he was eulogising did not personally participate in the campaign. 24 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1174, 1187, 1194–1195. 25 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1197–1198. 26 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1220. 27 For the image of Hàrùn al-Rashìd as a ‘ghàzì-caliph’ see M. Bonner, Aristocratic Violence and Holy War, New Haven, 1996, 99–106. 28 Al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj, vii, 127. 29 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1256–1267. Both narratives concentrate on Ashinàs to the exclusion of other military commanders and concentrate on 'Amr b. al-Óàrith as a representative figure of the conspirators rather than, say, 'Ujayf b. 'Anbasa or al-'Abbàs himself. 30 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1244.

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evidence that this signifies a change in author. The author seems to have travelled with the Turkish commander, Ashinàs, in the advance guard. His direct reports come from Ashinàs’ army and it is only after al-Mu'taßim meets up with the advance guard that we get direct reports from his camp.31 It is Ashinàs who finds the supplies to save the army from starvation.32 Even after the caliph arrives on the scene, Ashinàs is given a leading role in the siege of the city.33 The only other commander to be singled out for his initiative and given a speaking part is Ashinàs’ subordinate, Màlik b. Kaydar, who had been Ashinàs’ governor of Egypt.34 Ashinàs also plays a leading role in the unmasking of the conspiracy of al-'Abbàs,35 again in contrast to all other commanders. It is a possibility, but no more than this, that the author was, in fact, A˙mad b. al-Khaßìb al-Jarjarà"ì, who was then acting as Ashinàs’ secretary and who was present at a secret meeting whose results are recorded.36 In contrast, little is heard of al-Afshìn, who played a major role in leading a separate expedition to Ankara before joining up with the Caliph at Amorion.37 However, this omission probably reflects the position of the narrator, as the text does not seem to be an attempt to denigrate al-Afshìn. Apart from Ashinàs, the main hero of the narrative is al-Mu'taßim himself. The Caliph’s image, as reflected in the narrative, is of a stern and competent commander. He is said to have equipped the army, “as no caliph had ever done before” with weapons and equipment for carrying water and supplies.38 When the siege of Amorion was underway, it was the caliph in person who organised the sentries so that there were always soldiers on patrol, and it was he who ordered that the moat be filled in so that siege engines could be brought up to the walls, although the author does not disguise the fact that this manoeuvre was a failure. After this setback, it is the caliph who orders that the trebuchets (al-manjanìqàt al-kibàr) be brought 31

Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1237–1244. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1240. 33 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1248–1249. 34 Al-Kindì, Wulàt Mißr, London, 1912, 195. His father, called Kaydar Naßr b. 'Abd Allàh, had governed Egypt and it was he who dropped the Arabs from the local dìwàn (al-Kindì, 193–194). 35 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1259–1260, 1262–1263. 36 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1262–1263; see Bosworth, tr., 127 n. 351. 37 Both al-Ya'qùbì, Ta"rìkh, ii, 580–582 and al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj, vii, 134–135, note the importance of al-Afshìn’s role. 38 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1236. 32

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together to concentrate their fire on one section of the wall.39 He is, in short, a hands-on general, not wildly heroic, but calm and competent. In keeping with this image, he is allowed very little direct speech in comparison with characters like Ashinàs or 'Amr b. alÓàrith, and most of his utterances are confined to terse commands.40 The most interesting and ambiguous portrayal in the narrative is 'Amr b. al-Óàrith al-Farghànì, an Iranian noble serving in alMu'taßim’s army. He was under the command of Ashinàs and, in the early part of the narrative, he is seen as a bold and successful cavalry commander.41 Later, however, the tone changes abruptly. 'Amr makes a remark to al-Mu'taßim which implies that al-Afshìn is a more successful commander than his own superior. This leads to a furious altercation between 'Amr and his immediate commander Ashinàs, and the narrator says that this led 'Amr to communicate the outlines of the conspiracy to his comrade in arms, A˙mad b. Khalìl, who was to betray them all to the Caliph. 'Amr is shown as resentful of Ashinàs, whom he describes as a slave ('abd ).42 He is later shown at the centre of the conspiracy, hovering round the camp in a suspicious and nervous manner.43 However, when the conspirators are arrested he accepts his fate with dignity, and even the immediate prospect of being buried alive does not induce him to plead for mercy.44 At one level the narrative clearly serves to emphasise the role of the Caliph and his commanders as defenders of Islam and wreakers of vengeance for the cruelties that the Byzantines had previously inflicted on the people of Zibatra. The Caliph himself is undisputed commander of this enterprise. However, there is a sub-text which seeks to justify the conduct of some elements in the army (notably Ashinàs), and stress their competence and loyalty, in contrast to the followers of al-'Abbàs who are shown as undermining the military effort. The entire narrative should probably be read as a justification

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Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1247–1249. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1252–1253, 1261, 1264–1266. 41 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1238–1239. 42 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1249–1250. A˙mad had served under al-Afshìn and played an important part in the victory over Bàbak (al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1188, 1204–1206). 43 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1259–1261. 44 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1265. 40

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for the brutal murder of al-'Abbàs, al-Ma"mùn’s other sons and many of the leading figures in the regime. The second portrayal concerns the rise to power of al-Mu'ta∂id, who pushed aside and probably killed his cousin, al-Mufawwi∂, son of the Caliph al-Mu'tamid (256–279/870–92). In this case the military leader was the new Caliph’s father who had taken the title of al-Muwaffaq, though he never became Caliph himself. Like alMu'taßim, he had a long-standing connection with the Turkish military which at least dated back to the second siege of Baghdad in 248/862. From 266/879 al-Muwaffaq and his son al-Mu'ta∂id led their armies against the Zanj rebels of southern Iraq. The Zanj were slaves, ex-slaves and others who followed a Shi'ite leader who claimed to be a descendant of 'Alì. They succeeded in taking over the great city of Basra and much of the marsh lands of southern Iraq. Slowly, using amphibious warfare, the Abbasid forces drove the Zanj back, finally putting an end to the rebellion in 270/883. It may have been al-Mu'ta∂id, either when he had become caliph or when he was preparing a bid for the throne, who commissioned the writing of an account of this glorious campaign.45 Like the narratives of al-Mu'taßim’s victories, this is a linear narrative, describing in elaborate detail the bravery and ingenuity of the Abbasid armies and the wickedness of their enemies. This time we are told the name of the author of at least part of the narrative, Mu˙ammad b. al-Óasan b. Sahl, known as Shaylama.46 His father had been alMa"mùn’s right-hand man in Iraq but Shaylama, perhaps because of his family’s long-standing sympathy for the Alids, had chosen to

45 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1742–1787, 1836–1838, 1843–1872, 1898–1912, 1920–1936, 1943–2024, 2028–2102. In accordance with al-ˇabarì’s annalistic method, the narrative is broken up and assigned to the years in which he thought it occurred. The other early account of these events, in al-Mas'ùdì’s Murùj al-Dhahab seems to make no use of the material reproduced in al-ˇabarì’s narratives and the military campaigns of the Abbasid leaders are dealt with in a few lines (Murùj, viii, 57, 61). There has been little attempt in the scholarly literature to analyse al-ˇabarì’s long account from a historiographical viewpoint. The main secondary account of the Zanj rebellion, A. Popovic, La Revolte des Esclaves en Iraq au III/IX Siècle, Paris, 1966, devotes only two pages (18–19) to the sources and generally takes a positivist line throughout. The best secondary account of Shaylama and his work is to be found in H. Halm, Die Traditionen über den Aufstand 'Ali ibn Muhammads, des ‘Herrn der Zandh’. Eine quellenkritische Untersuchung, Bonn, 1967, especially 8–12 in which the author gives some details of Shaylama’s involvement with the rebellion and notes the contribution of Mu˙ammad b. Óammàd to the work. 46 On whom, Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, 141, Dodge, tr., 279.

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join the rebels. He seems to have been close to the rebel leader and participated in military campaigns.47 He remained with the rebel leader 'Alì until the final Abbasid assault on his capital in Sha'bàn 269/February-March 883.48 It must have been between this and his death in 280/893–94 (he was executed by al-Mu'ta∂id on suspicion of intriguing with the Alids)49 that he compiled what seems to be a sort of official history of the rebellion. Perhaps it was the price of escaping punishment for his involvement. In fact, Shaylama’s narrative falls into two distinct parts. In the first half, from 255/869 down to the around the end of 266/August 880, his work concentrates on the leader of the Zanj and events in his camp. He himself appears as a direct narrator on a number of occasions and, in particular, he recorded the speeches and thoughts of the rebel leader which he reproduces in direct speech.50 The last such report seems to date from Rajab 258/May 872. In addition to his own reports, Shaylama also used a variety of informants to give a rounded and interesting account of the early days of the Zanj movement. Among these was Shibl b. Sàlim, who was one of the Zanj leader’s earliest followers, who provides information about the events leading up to the Zanj sack of Basra in Dhù al-Qa'da 255/October 869.51 Shibl remained with the rebels almost until the end, finally going over to the Abbasids just before the final assault on the Zanj capital al-Mukhtàra.52 Shaylama always refers to him with respect, using such phrases as “famous for his courage and bravery”, “the most valiant of his black troops” and, “among (the Zanj leader’s) earliest companions and someone who had displayed great courage and fortitude on his behalf ”.53 Despite this commendation, and the fact that Shaylama must have come into contact with him frequently, he is not used as a source after 258/872.

47

Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1910. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2040–2041, 2135–2136. 49 Three accounts describe his death and the bizarre details of the execution: alˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2135–2136; al-Mas'ùdì, Murùj, viii, 140–141; Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, 141, Dodge, tr., 279. 50 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1770–1771, 1780–1781, 1784, 1848, 1856–1857, 1870–1871; for Shaylama’s image of the Zanj leader, Halm, Traditionen, 13–15. 51 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1755, 1777, 1786–1787, 1849, 1855–1856, 1858, 1861. 52 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2069–2071. 53 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1965–1966, 1980, 2027. 48

28

 

Ray˙àn b. Íàli˙ al-Maghribì was another informant used by Shaylama in his account of the early days of the Zanj rebellion. He is introduced in a first-person narrative describing how he originally joined the movement.54 He became a commander (qà"id ) in the Zanj army and eventually became ˙àjib to Ankalày, son of the leader of the Zanj, but at the end transferred his loyalty to the Abbasids as the noose finally closed around the rebel capital.55 Like Shibl, he is always referred to as brave and loyal. Like Shibl too, he is only used as a source for the early days of the rebellion and his last contribution is dated to 255/869 even though, as we have seen, he continued to be an important commander in the Zanj army. Another source for this period was Mu˙ammad b. Sim'àn al-Kàtib. Mu˙ammad had been in Basra when the city was taken by the Zanj and was an eye-witness to the slaughter and fire which accompanied it. He was taken to the Zanj camp and joined the rebel cause, becoming kàtib and wazìr to the leader of the Zanj, acquiring a palace and estates. Like many of the rest of the Zanj elite, he requested, and was granted, a safe-conduct shortly before the final collapse of the movement.56 Despite the fact that he was a friend of Shaylama, and indeed they had discussed the question of defection from the Zanj together just before Ibn Sim'àn defected, he was not used as a source after 258/872. In describing the origins and early history of the Zanj movement, Shaylama constructed an account that was heavily based on sources within the movement itself. These included his own reports of the speech of the leader of the Zanj and those of a number of senior participants. This account cannot be described as actively pro-Zanj, but it is not remorselessly hostile and the very fact that it depends so heavily on the testimony of insiders means that narratives supportive of the Zanj survive. Despite crimes like the burning of Basra, which are not glossed over, the Zanj are presented as Muslims. In a formal sense, the narrative is dependent on the juxtaposition of a number of different viewpoints, normally complementary rather than contradictory, to give a rounded account. 54

Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1747–1748. It is never specifically stated that Ray˙àn’s testimony was transmitted by Shaylama but the close parallels between his contributions and those of Shibl and Ibn Sim'àn, who Shaylama is specifically said to have used, make it likely that his accounts were transmitted in the same way. 55 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2007–2008. 56 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2006, 2020, 2043–2044.

   

29

From 259/872–73, the nature of Shaylama’s work changes and, after a rather uneasy transition, a new and very different narrative begins in Rabì' II 267/November-December 879 with the assumption of command of the Abbasid forces by Abù A˙mad al-Muwaffaq and his son Abù al-'Abbàs, later the Caliph al-Mu'ta∂id. From this point on, Shaylama gives us a clear, linear narrative, which includes a mass of detail about warfare. Almost without exception, this material is based on the doings of the Abbasid forces57 and in particular on the role of the two Abbasid princes. The information comes from their camp and events are seen through their eyes. This is the more surprising because, as we have seen, Shaylama was firmly attached to the Zanj cause and remained in the Zanj capital up to the end. As the isnàds make clear, Shaylama was dependent on an account by one Mu˙ammad b. Óammàd al-Azdì.58 Al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì59 describes him as “a chaste and noble young man” who wrote with knowledge and understanding but he does not give the names of any works he may have published. The fact that, after the final victory, al-Muwaffaq appointed him over the qa∂à" of Basra, Ubulla, Kuwar al-Dijla and Wàsi† may suggest that he performed the same function in al-Muwaffaq’s camp. The style leaves no doubt that his account was a written document from the beginning and may have taken the form of a campaign diary. Mu˙ammad died in 276/889–90, six years after the end of the Zanj war and he must therefore have written before the accession of al-Mu'ta∂id as caliph in 279/892. We have no means of knowing whether Ibn Óammàd had completed an account of the campaign which Shaylama used or whether Shaylama edited unpublished notes. However, the prince Abù al'Abbàß is never referred to as al-Mu'ta∂id nor does the account make any reference to his becoming caliph. Ibn Óammàd very rarely quotes sources for his accounts. The most important exception was when the young prince Abù al-'Abbàß was given an independent command to lead an advance party. Ibn Óammàd says that he was informed of events by a number of people 57 Two anecdotes set at the court of the Zanj leader are recorded by Shaylama. Both are intended to denigrate the leader of the Zanj and are reported on the authority of one Mu˙ammad b. Hishàm al-Kirmànì, known as Abù Wàthila, who was appointed as a qà∂ì by the Zanj leader and subsequently captured by the Abbasid forces (al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1964, 1969, 1974). 58 First mentioned on al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1947. 59 Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, Beirut, 1997, ii, 270 no. 743.

 

30

who accompanied Abù al-'Abbàs, including his own brother, Is˙àq,60 but the most quoted of these was one Mu˙ammad b. Shu'ayb alIshtiyàm (captain of a boat) who provided first hand accounts of the courage and endurance of the young prince.61 Ibn Óammàd was concerned to suggest to his readers that the Zanj were not Muslims; this (mendacious) spin enabled him to present the expedition as a jihàd against the unbelievers. In fact he only uses the word jihàd to describe the war once when recording the arrival of volunteers (mu††awwi'a) from other areas of the Muslim world,62 but he uses other devices to make his point. The rebel leader is referred to constantly as ‘al-khabìth’. This is a slightly unusual term of abuse whose primary meaning is bad, corrupt, and abominable, but which can carry the secondary meaning of infidel or unbeliever. It is possible that Ibn Óammàd used the word to give the impression that he was not a Muslim without actually saying so outright. The term, in fact, is deliberately ambiguous.63 He is also described as the ‘enemy of God’ ('adùw Allàh),64 confirming the impression. There are a number of references to al-Muwaffaq’s forces freeing ‘Muslim’ women who had been taken prisoner by the insurgents and returning them to their families.65 On occasion the Abbasid forces are described as ‘the Muslims’,66 implying that their enemies were not. The author had some difficulties giving an account of the destruction of the Zanj mosque by al-Muwaffaq’s forces. Ibn Óammàd describes how the Abbasids destroyed a structure (binà") “which the Zanj commander called the Friday mosque”,67 again implying that it was not a real mosque. Ibn Óammàd’s narrative has a clear hero, Abù A˙mad al-Muwaffaq, leader of the Abbasid forces. Almost throughout the narrative he is centre stage. The image is an interesting one. Like the images of alAfshìn and al-Mu'taßim discussed earlier, it is not an image of great

60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

Ibn al-Kha†ìb says Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, See Lane s.v. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh,

that Is˙àq recited ‘Traditions’ on his brother’s authority. iii, 1954–1960. iii, 2085. iii, iii, iii, iii,

2049. 2046, 2055, 2078–2079. 1970. 2034–2035.

   

31

personal courage, strength and daring (though his stoicism and determination after being wounded by an arrow are stressed).68 Rather, the commander is portrayed as wise and competent. He leads the campaign systematically. At one point the author describes how he had barges (essential for the amphibious warfare) built in the Gulf ports of Jannàba and Sìràf, and had provisions brought by land and water. Markets were established and a mosque was built. He then established a mint where gold and silver coins were issued, presumably to pay the troops.69 He commands the army on a day-today basis, and his abilities include both land and naval warfare. Much is made of his generosity in welcoming defectors from the rebels’ armies. Time and again, both senior figures and the ranks and file are welcomed into the Abbasid camp. When Ray˙àn b. Íàli˙ defected to the Abbasids: Zìrak escorted them to al-Muwaffaq’s quarters and robes of honour were ordered for Ray˙àn. He was also presented with a number of horses and full equipment, and was assigned a generous yearly pension. His men were also clothed in robes of honour and allotted pensions according to their ranks; then they were assigned to Abù al-'Abbàs and he ordered them to be transported to a position facing the palace of al-khabìth. They were posted in a ship there and al-khabìth’s men thus learned about Ray˙àn’s desertion and that of his men and about the kind reception they had been accorded.70

Reading between the lines, it looks as if bribery and diplomacy played as large a part as military prowess in the triumph of the Abbasids. Another side of al-Muwaffaq’s image was the firm but fair disciplinarian. On one occasion, after a setback in which his troops were forced to retreat and thirty Daylamì ghilmàn were killed, he gathered his troops and harangued them about their disobedience, threatening them with terrible, but unspecified, punishments if it happened again. At the same time he arranged for payments to be made to the families of those who had been killed, so impressing the troops and securing their devotion.71

68

Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2035–2036. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1988–1989. See also al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii 1966, 1968 for his care in paying his men. 70 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2008. 71 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2012–2013. 69

32

 

The image of his son Abù al-'Abbàs is developed differently, perhaps as a deliberate foil to that of his father.72 In an account of his advance into Zanj territory ahead of his father’s forces, he is shown as every inch the princely hero. The account,73 which Ibn Óammàd derived from Mu˙ammad al-Ishtiyàm, who captained one of the galleys on the expedition, paints a vivid image. Abù al-'Abbàß is personally brave, always taking the initiative in battle. At one stage, after a very hard-fought contest, Mu˙ammad extracted twenty five arrows from his master’s kayz, a felt coat he wore over his mail. He was himself a great archer, at one time killing a crane (kurkì ) in midair with a single shot. Conveniently, the bird dropped near the Zanj who were duly impressed by their foe’s archery. Despite his daring and his disregard of cautious advisers, Muhammad is careful to stress that Abù al-'Abbàs was wise and a shrewd assessor of risks. The Zanj thought that they could trap the inexperienced youth, but he was too clever for them. Besides, as we are repeatedly told, God was on his side. Although the focus of the narrative returns to al-Muwaffaq, his son continues to appear, distinguishing himself by his courage in the frontline, leading his men in barges right up to the walls of the enemy capital or in amphibious warfare.74 Al-Muwaffaq and his sons are by far the most prominent figures on the Abbasid side, but they are by no means the only ones. The Abbasid army may have been quite large75 but, according to Ibn Óammàd’s narrative, most of the fighting was done by two élite groups, the mawàlì and the ghilmàn.76 Of these two, it was the ghilmàn of al-Muwaffaq and his son Abù al-'Abbàs who bore the brunt of the fighting and who are always to be found leading the attack and showing their bravery and ingenuity. Particularly prominent were

72 For a discussion of the image of Abù al-'Abbàs al-Mu'ta∂id in later Arabic literature see F. Malti-Douglas, ‘Texts and Tortures: the reign of al-Mu'ta∂id and the construction of historical meaning’, Arabica 46, 1999, 313–336. 73 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1948–1960. 74 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1983, 1998. 75 At one point al-Muwaffaq was said to have had 50,000 or more men in his army and the Zanj 300,000, no doubt a considerable exaggeration (al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1986). 76 At this stage, the term mawàlì refers to the Turkish military of Samarra and their descendants while the ghilmàn were soldiers of varied origin newly recruited by al-Muwaffaq and Abù al-'Abbàs.

   

33

the ghilmàn who were attached to Abù al-'Abbàs, though al-Muwaffaq’s men also performed heroic deeds.77 The message of Ibn Óammàd’s account, in Shaylama’s redaction, is that al-Muwaffaq and his son were the heroic defenders of the Muslims against their enemies. Their deeds dominate the narrative, and subordinate commanders, like Zìrak and Nußayr, are frequently mentioned in a subordinate status but never allowed speaking parts or any real presence in the narrative. Along with the two heroes, it is the ghilmàn as a group who were singled out for praise. The historical context of the writing of this narrative is, as has been pointed out, not entirely clear. It is possible to suggest the following hypothesis: Mu˙ammad b. al-Óasan Shaylama, who it must be remembered was with the Zanj from an early stage until the final Abbasid victory, compiled an account of the Zanj movement from the accounts of many of the early supporters. He also included a number of the Zanj leader’s own statements. This narrative is either neutral or mildly favourable to the rebels (and it is quite possible that more favourable mentions were subsequently edited out). This narrative may have been compiled around 259/873 when it essentially dries up. Ibn Óammàd’s work, in contrast, seems to have been a campaign diary, or at least a running record, based in al-Muwaffaq’s camp. Some of it may have formed the text of the kitàb sent to the provinces (nawà˙ì ) recounting his victories and which was to be read from the pulpits.78 He may have completed and published it after the final Abbasid victory of 270/883 and it must have been completed before his death in 276/889–90. At some stage his work passed to Shaylama who attached it to his own previous work in a rather uneasy stitching together. How far he edited Ibn Óammàd’s work is not clear, but he certainly retained the strongly eulogistic nature of the piece. This in turn must have been complete before Shaylama’s execution in 280/893–94. It is likely that his account, or part of it, is the Kitàb Akhbàr ßà˙ib al-Zanj wa waqà"i'ihi (‘Book of Accounts of the Lord of the Zanj and his Battles’) which is mentioned in the Fihrist as being written by Shaylama.79

77 See for example, al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 1984–1985, 1997, 2003–2004, 2012–2013, 2043–2046, 2050 though many other instances could be cited. 78 Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2051. 79 Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, 141, Dodge, tr., 279; al-Mas'ùdì (Murùj, viii, 140) mentions that he wrote a book on the Akhbàr 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad, Íà˙ib al-Zanj.

34

 

The publication of this narrative should be seen against the background of the struggle of succession. Relations between al-Muwaffaq and his son seem to have deteriorated after their joint victory over the Zanj. In 275/889 al-Muwaffaq had his son arrested, for reasons which are not stated. In response, Abù al-'Abbàs’s companions (aß˙àb) and ghilmàn rioted in Baghdad and were only calmed down when al-Muwaffaq promised that he meant his son no harm.80 The importance of these ghilmàn in safeguarding his status as his father’s heir is clear. Later, in 278/891 as al-Muwaffaq lay dying, Abù al-'Abbàs’ ghilmàn broke down the doors of a place where he was confined and released him. After al-Muwaffaq had died, it was the commanders (quwwàd ) and the ghilmàn who first took the oath of allegiance to Abù al-'Abbàs, now al-Mu'ta∂id.81 Early the next year, the previous heir apparent, al-Mufawwi∂, was stripped of his titles and shortly afterwards, al-Mu'ta∂id succeeded on the death of al-Mu'tamid (Rajab 279/October 892).82 Al-Mu'ta∂id came to the throne, essentially, as a usurper. There were no legal grounds advanced for the removal of al-Mufawwi∂ from his position as heir apparent. He came to the throne, not by any legal right, but because of the support of his ghilmàn who not only ensured that he became Caliph, but also that their rivals in the military were humiliated and disbanded. Shaylama’s Akhbàr Íà˙ib alZanj fits very well in this context. It makes the point that the new caliph and his father were the leaders of the forces of the Muslim government against this threat to religious and social stability posed by the Zanj. The deposed al-Mufawwi∂, in clear contrast, had done nothing. Furthermore, it was the new caliph’s ghilmàn, the newly dominant military elite who had borne the brunt of this battle. What clearer legitimization could there be? Although this is a factual narrative account, the points Shaylama makes in his history are clear and direct. He claims that the enemy were infidels and the rebellion was anti-Muslim. Although it was not true, the claim meant that the campaign could be described as a jihàd against the enemies of Islam, with the army as steadfast defenders of Islam and the two Abbasid princes, al-Muwaffaq and his son al-Mu'ta∂id, as the heroic leaders of the Muslims. 80 81 82

Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2115–6. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2120–2123. Al-ˇabarì, Ta"rìkh, iii, 2133.

   

35

Conclusion These narratives are interesting and important for a number of reasons. In terms of historiography, they mark a new departure with the birth of an official, government sponsored, narrative history with its emphasis on military ability and efficiency. Sometimes, as in the case of the Bàbak narrative and, perhaps, the Zanj one, there is a plausible context for their production in the statement that kutub were sent out by the government to publicise its victories. Secondly, they also show that participation in the jihàd and the defence of the Muslims now constituted the major claim to legitimacy as far as the Abbasids were concerned. It was this, rather than their role as religious leaders as givers or interpreters of law, which was central. The same point is also made about the army. It may well be that the narratives were composed, at least in part, in response to criticisms that the army of the caliphate was composed largely of foreign (mostly Turkish) troops whose commitment to Islam was both recent and doubtful.83 What better way could there be of responding to such negative comments than the demonstration that these troops were, in fact, the backbone of the jihàd effort against such infidels as Bàbak and the leader of the Zanj? Thirdly, the narratives make important points about the jihàd and its motivation. Leadership of the jihàd had become central to the ruler’s legitimization. It was later used in the same way by such rulers as al-Manßùr in al-Andalus and Saladin. It could be argued that the main object of jihàd was no longer to conquer the Dàr al-˙arb but to establish the authority and legitimacy of the leader in the Islamic community.

83 In this context, note El-Hibri’s comments about the generally negative and critical view of the Turkish military found in the Arabic sources of the third/ninth century, Islamic Historiography, 208–215.


A NEW TEXT ON ISMAILISM AT THE SAMANID COURT Patricia Crone (Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton) Luke Treadwell (Oxford)

In his Àdàb al-mulùk, a book of advice for kings, the famous littérateur al-Tha'àlibì (d. 429/1038) cautions rulers against a number of potential disasters, including that of falling prey to heretical missionaries. By way of warning he recounts how the Samanid amir Naßr II b. A˙mad, known as al-Sa'ìd (r. 301–331/914–43), was converted to Ismailism along with other potentates, thereby throwing considerable light on an episode which has so far been known only from two sources, Ibn al-Nadìm and NiΩàm al-Mulk. In what follows we offer a translation and discussion of al-Tha'àlibì’s text as a token of gratitude to Donald Richards, from whose erudition, good humour and personal warmth we have both benefited greatly over the years.1

I. Translation2 168 #458. Among them (the evils that afflict kings) are the adroit and unbelieving swindlers who proselytize on behalf of followers of selfish whims, innovators and heretics (ahl al-ahwà" wa’l-bida' wadhawì ’l-il˙àd fì ’l-ni˙al ), such as the Bà†iniyya, Qaràmi†a, Ismà'ìliyya and other proponents of elementary qualities and celestial

* We are indebted to Professor S. Hanioglu for helping us obtain a microfilm of the manuscript, and to Professors M. Cook and W. Madelung for reading an earlier draft. 1 Crone (a colleague of Richards from 1977 to 1990) found the text; Treadwell (a student of Crone and a colleague of Richards from 1993 to 2000) supplied most of the information about the events to which it refers (cf. W.L. Treadwell, ‘The Political History of the Sàmànid State’, Oxford D.Phil. 1991, ch. 6). The translation and interpretation are joint. 2 Al-Tha'àlibì, Àdàb al-mulùk, J. al-'A†iyya, ed., Beirut, 1990, 168–172, reproducing MS Süleymaniye Kütübhanesi (Istanbul), Es'ad Efendi no. 1808/1 fols. 56v–58v.

38

     bodies who do not affirm the existence of prophethood and who call prophets (mere) ‘lawgivers and (fulfillers of ) needs’ (aß˙àb al-nawàmìs wa’l-˙awà"ij ). They will frequently insinuate 169 their ways into the affairs of kings who have not heard // the teaching of the mutakallims or studied the science of kalàm. They will take them aside and deceive them with their mellifluous charms, their gilded sophistry and their spurious doctrines, claiming to transport them from the slavery of the law to the freedom of heresy (min riqq al-sharì'a ilà ˙urriyyat al-il˙àd ) and to liberate them from the shackles of religious observance, giving them license to abandon prayer and other acts of worship and to indulge their desires. Thus they slip a halter (over their heads) and take hold of their reins. For as they (the kings) will take the opportunity to rest in comfort, security and ease, they (the missionaries) will be emboldened to engage in forbidden acts, commit sins, shed blood, seize the wealth (of others), break covenants, violate writs and make light of Islam. #459. Al-Sa'ìd Naßr b. A˙mad fell into this trap. It had been set by Abù al-ˇayyib al-Muß'abì3 and Abù al-Óasan Ibn Sawàda alRàzì,4 two arch heretics (anyàb al-mul˙idìn) who were relentlessly trying to become intimate with him. Among the things related about him is that he had repented of drinking and shedding blood, fearing the Station of his Lord (cf. Q 55:46; 79:40), and that he had knocked on the door of pious observance, secluding himself to pray and weep in extreme fear of death. But alMuß'abì and Ibn Sawàda continually deceived him with their honeyed words and gradually introduced him to their doctrine. They told him that worry and grief were no protection against adversity and misfortune, and that it was better to engage in pleasure and constant drinking and listen to beautiful singing girls so as to rid the rational soul (al-nafs al-nà†iqa) of its trouble in this corporeal world (al-'àlam al-jusdànì ), which consists entirely of worries and pain. For nothing but pleasant diversion and song, music-making and carousal5 would drive away (worries and pain). They made it seem to him that the bitterness of death lay in his fear of it whereas (in fact) death was utter bliss and the ultimate repose because it was the gate to the spiritual world in which there are no pains, no sorrows and no terrors. (They added) more nonsense of a similar nature until he began to accept what they told him and embarked on their course.

3 Mu˙ammad b. Óàtim al-Muß'abì, a secretary who became vizier in 330/941–42 at the latest; see below, section II(b). 4 A missionary also mentioned by NiΩàm al-Mulk; cf. below, section II(a). 5 Reading qaßf for qaßab (as suggested by Everett Rowson).

        

170

39

Abù 'Alì al-Jayhànì6 went the same way and added to their insults by calling the jurists bearers of filth, meaning that they speak about menstruation, purification after excretion, and // the like. Then they sang the praises of that doctrine, i.e. the doctrine of the Ismailis, which is the doctrine of A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad al-Bazdahì,7 and they induced him (the amir) to summon him (al-Bazdahì) and to listen to his words. So he (the amir) ordered that he be brought, and when he arrived, he was honoured and revered and found acceptance for the accursed mission and the foolish ideas to which he gave open expression. Al-Sa'ìd ordered that seventy dinars weighing a hundred mithqàls (of gold) each8 should be struck for despatch to the lord of the diocese ( jazìra), who was the imam of the mission in their view; so they were struck. God then favoured Islam by causing al-Muß'abì to perish; the position of the people (the Ismailis) weakened, and the cream turned to scum. Al-Bazdahì returned to his village holding firm to his misguided doctrine. He had some of those dinars with him, others were with Ibn Sawàda. When al-Sa'ìd died and his son al-Óamìd took his place, Ibn Sawàda resumed singing the praises of that doctrine to him. He wrote to al-Bazdahì telling him to send the most skilful and articulate debaters among his missionaries to al-Óamìd’s court to invite him (to convert), so he did. Al-Óamìd was a perceptive man who had studied religion (mutafaqqihan fì ’l-dìn) and received (˙adìth) from Mu˙ammad, known as the Great Judge (al-˙àkim al-jalìl ), the leading scholar in the school of Abù Óanìfa.9 When al-Bazdahì’s envoy arrived, he came to al-Óamìd in secret and called upon him to convert. Al-Óamìd said to him: “If this call is to something other than Islam, then I seek refuge in God from it; and if it is to Islam, then Mu˙ammad

6 Both the manuscript (fol. 57r) and the printed text have Abù 'Alì al-Jubbà"ì, a Mu'tazilite mutakallim who died in 303/915 f. and who cannot possibly be intended here. On Abù 'Alì al-Jayhànì, see below, section II(d). He was vizier from 326/938 to 330/941–42 at the latest. 7 The missionary al-Nasafì, who came from the village of Bazda near Nakhshab/ Nasaf and whose ism is normally given as Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad; cf. S.M. Stern. ‘The Early Ismà'ìlì Missionaries in North-West Persia and in Khuràsàn and Transoxania’, in his Studies in Early Ismà'ìlism, Jerusalem and Leiden, 1983, 219 (reprinted with new pagination from the Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 23, 1960). 8 A mithqàl was 4.2 grammes (EI 2, s.v. ‘dinàr’), so they will have weighed close to a pound each! 9 For this person, see below, note 48.

    

40

171

has said it before you, the master of those who call to the truth, who is the Prophet Mu˙ammad.10 There is nothing to add to the perfection of his religion; what has been transmitted to us of his traditions and laws suffices for us.11 Suppose that I accepted this doctrine: what would be the point of hiding it from people? Zuhayr, for all his paganism, says “A veil conceals abominations; you will not find anything veiling the good.” The envoy replied, “This is what the imam lays down.” He said, “This can only be due to fear of the common folk or of the elite or of the ruler. If it is for fear of the common folk, they are my subjects and none among them dares to oppose me. If it is fear of the elite, [they too obey me; and if it is fear of the ruler,]12 what authority is above me and what hand above mine? So there is no reason to hide this religion or to (require) an oath13 or a compact about it.” // So the unbelievers were confounded;14 he was reduced to silence and did not reply but returned to al-Bazdahì and told him what had happened. Al-Bazdahì feared the worst. Al-Óamìd lost no time in demanding from Ibn Sawàda the return of the aforementioned dinars, but he denied that he had them and swore mighty oaths that they were not in his possession, that he did not know anything about them, and that they were not in his house or in the possession of any of his companions. But he (al-Óamìd) then stumbled upon most of those dinars in a hiding place in his house. They were removed and al-Óamìd had him taken away and beaten until he perished. Al-Bazdahì was ordered to present himself and asked to hand over the rest of the dinars. But he did not do so. When he was addressed on the subject of his doctrine, he asked for a disputation (about it). “If the proof goes against me I shall repent of my doctrine and abandon my view”, he said. But he (al-Óamìd) did not dispute with him. He asked the jurists what he should do with him, and their response was that he should be killed. So he was killed and crucified.

#460. Among the kings of the time who were disgraced by this corrupt doctrine were Bakr b. Màlik, Abù 'Alì b. Ilyàs, and Abù

10 The gloss is presumably inserted to ensure that the reader does not take the reference to be to Mu˙ammad al-˙àkim al-jalìl mentioned five lines earlier. (We owe this point to Michael Cook.) 11 Reading ˙asbunà mà for ˙asuna mà. 12 Some such words must have been omitted here. 13 Reading li’l-yamìn for li’l-mayn. 14 Read fa-buhita with the MS for nabihat of the printed text, cf. Q 2:258: fabuhita alladhì kafara. (We owe this clarification to Michael Cook.) It is odd that the Qur"ànic singular, which suits the context here, has been changed to the plural.

        

41

Ja'far b. Bànù, Khalaf ’s father, as well as ˇàhir b. Mu˙ammad al-Sijzì and Abù 'Alì b. Sìmjùr.15 This vile16 creed was spawned and hatched in Khurasan, and if it had not been for the readiness of the great sultan Yamìn al-Dawla Amìn al-Milla Abù al-Qàsim Ma˙mùd b. Nàßir al-Dìn (i.e. Ma˙mùd of Ghazna) to apply his efforts in support of the faith, upholding the hallmarks of Islam, cutting the herbage of heresy from its base and plucking the plants of ta'†ìl 17 from their roots, then the iniquitous infidels18 would have raised their ugly heads,19 all traces of the religion would have been obliterated, the waymarks of Islam would have been effaced, and the Muslims would have been humiliated.

The story ends with more encomia of Ma˙mùd of Ghazna (388–421/ 998–1030), in whose lifetime the work was composed. Its recipient was Ma˙mùd’s brother-in-law, the Khwàrizmshàh Abù al-'Abbàs Ma"mùn II (399–407/1009–17), and its date of composition can be narrowed down to between 403/1012 and 407/1017.20

II. The Events (a) The three versions How does al-Tha'àlibì’s version compare with those of Ibn al-Nadìm and NiΩàm al-Mulk? We may start by summarizing their accounts. Ibn al-Nadìm’s is short. According to him, the missionary al-Nasafì (alias al-Bazdahì) converted Naßr b. A˙mad to Ismailism and persuaded him to pay 119 dinars, each worth 1000 dinars,21 as blood money for al-Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Marwazì, the previous leader of the Khurasani mission said by Ibn al-Nadìm to have died in Naßr’s prison.22 Al15

For all these people, see below, section II(d). Reading radì"a for radiyya. 17 Reducing God to an abstract concept, the opposite error of anthropomorphism. 18 Read al-kafara al-fajara with the MS for al-fikra al-fajara of the printed text. The expression is Qur"ànic, cf. Q 80:43 (drawn to our attention by Everett Rowson). 19 Tentatively reading nijàdahà for anjàdahà. 20 Thus 'A†iyya’s introduction, 17. Ma"mùn was married to Ma˙mùd’s sister; cf. W. Barthold, Turkestan Down to the Mongol Invasion, London, 1968, 289 (of the original pagination). 21 In other words, each weighed 1000 mithqàls (close to nine and a half pounds of gold!). 22 On him, see Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 217–19. For his imprisonment, see below, note 152. 16

42

    

Nasafì claimed that the money would be sent to the ruler of the Maghrib, al-Qà"im (322–34/934–46). Naßr then fell ill, repented of his conversion and died, whereupon his son and successor Nù˙ (alias al-Óamìd) assembled jurists for a public debate with al-Nasafì, who was defeated. He was also found to have kept 40 of the 119 dinars. Thoroughly disgraced, he was killed along with the leading missionaries and generals who had converted to the cause.23 According to NiΩàm al-Mulk, whose account is the longest of the three, al-Óusayn b. 'Alì appointed al-Nasafì as his successor and advised him to attempt the conversion of the ruling elite in Bukhàrà. Al-Nasafì duly went off to Transoxania, leaving Ibn Sawàda as his deputy in Marwarrùdh. Finding circumstances unpromising in Bukhàrà, al-Nasafì established himself at Nasaf (his native area), where he converted several high-ranking people. The proselytes told him to go to Bukhàrà, where he successfully converted other members of the elite, including Naßr II himself. This caused the leaders of the army to plan a coup, described in dramatic detail, but their plans were foiled by Naßr’s son Nù˙, who persuaded Naßr to abdicate. Naßr vowed henceforth to devote himself to repentance and was sent to jail. Nù˙ summoned al-Nasafì, who was executed, and gave orders for the arrest and execution of Ibn Sawàda at Marwarrùdh, while he and the troops went off to spend seven days killing Ismailis in Bukhàrà and its environs.24 For all that, the Ismà'ìlìs remained strong enough to make a second bid for power in the reign of Manßùr I b. Nù˙ (350–65/961–76).25 Al-Tha'àlibì’s account differs from Ibn al-Nadìm’s and NiΩàm alMulk’s above all in the role it ascribes to al-Muß'abì and the missionary Ibn Sawàda, who are not mentioned by Ibn al-Nadìm at all while NiΩàm al-Mulk only mentions Ibn Sawàda, and then only as a deputy left behind by al-Nasafì in Marwarrùdh. In al-Tha'àlibì it is by al-Muß'abì and Ibn Sawàda that Naßr II is converted; al-Nasafì is only summoned to complete their work.

23 Ibn al-Nadìm, Kitàb al-Fihrist, R. Tajaddud, ed., Tehran, 1971, 239 = The Fihrist of al-Nadìm, B. Dodge, tr., New York, 1970, i, 467 f.; also translated in Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 224. 24 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar al-mulùk (Siyàsatnàma), H. Darke, ed., 2nd edition, Tehran, 1985, 287–299 = id., The Book of Government or Rules for Kings, H. Darke, tr., London, 1960, 218–227 (ch. 46, ##8–21). 25 Ibid., 299–305 = 227–233 (ch. 46, ##22–30).

        

43

Al-Tha'àlibì also differs from the other two sources in that he does not have Naßr II repent of his conversion. Like them, he places the Ismaili interlude towards the end of Naßr’s life and credits him with a period of repentance, but Naßr’s repentance here precedes his conversion instead of following it. Naßr II is sick and afraid of death, and this is why he has abandoned his former life; it is for the same reason that he is receptive to Ismailism. There is no suggestion that he abjured Ismailism before his death, as he does in the other two accounts, nor does he abdicate in favour of his son, as he does in NiΩàm al-Mulk’s, and there is no mention of the military plot that NiΩàm al-Mulk describes at length. The key event in the downfall of Ismailism here is al-Muß'abì’s death. Finally, al-Tha'àlibì says nothing about a second episode, and his list of converts is quite different from NiΩàm al-Mulk’s. All in all, al-Tha'àlibì has more in common with Ibn al-Nadìm than with NiΩàm al-Mulk, and there is even verbal correspondence between them at one point: both say that Nù˙ “stumbled on” ('athara 'alà) the dinars that the missionaries had retained. For all that, they are too different to be based on the same source, except in the sense that both are ultimately based on rumours circulating after the event. The same is true of Ibn al-Nadìm in relation to NiΩàm al-Mulk. We have three independent versions, then. How might one reconstruct the events in the light of them? (b) The first episode There is no way of checking al-Tha'àlibì’s account of Ibn Sawàda, but he seems to be right that al-Muß'abì played a crucial role in the events. The Samanid historians, who do their best to edit the Ismaili interlude out of history, are generally silent on al-Muß'abì,26 but al-Balkhì mentions him among the aß˙àb al-qaràmi†a;27 others implicitly confirm that he was an Ismaili;28 and the Sunni Najm alDìn al-Nasafì (d. 537/1142) provides some clinching information. 26 Most of what there is on him is collected in S. Nafìsì, A˙wàl-i wa ash'àr-i Rùdakì, Tehran 1309–1319, ii, 492–495 (nothing on his Ismailism). Compare Barthold, Turkestan, 225 (“The historians have not a word to say of the heresy of Naßr”). 27 Balkhì, Fa∂à"il-i Balkh, 'A. Habìbì, ed., Tehran, 1350, 293–294. 28 He was familiar with the thought of the Ismaili philosopher Abù al-Haytham al-Jurjànì, whose views on an important doctrinal point he is said to have misunderstood (H. Corbin and M. Mo'in, Commentaire de la qasida ismaelienne d’Abu ’l-Haitham

44

    

According to him, a traditionist by the name of Abù Ya'là 'Abd alMu"min b. Khalaf al-'Ammì completed a recitation of the Qur"àn on the evening of Rama∂àn 27 in an unspecified year, apparently in Nasaf, and proceeded to pray for the death of al-Muß'abì and the Qaràmi†a, accusing the former, who was vizier at the time, of zandaqa and il˙àd, and praying also for the delivery of the Nasafì scholar and ra"ìs Abù 'Uthmàn Sa'ìd b. Ibràhìm. The latter, according to al-Samarqandì (a pupil of al-Nasafì’s), had been summoned to the court by al-Muß'abì as a result of the fanaticism of the Ismailis (ta'aßßub al-qaràmi†a). Abù Ya'là’s chilling prayer was effective: a few days later the news arrived that al-Muß'abì had been killed by the ˙asham (i.e. the Turkish troops stationed in Bukhàrà) and that Abù 'Uthmàn had returned safely from Bukhàrà and was now persecuting the Qaràmi†a himself.29 The life of this scholar had been consumed by the fanaticism of the Ismailis, which had inflicted many trials on him until al-Bazdawì (= al-Bazdahì, in other words alNasafì) was killed along with his companion, Mu˙ammad b. Sa'ìd b. Mu'àdh al-Manàdìlì al-Bukhàrì, known as al-Íabbàgh. The two of them were crucified at the beginning of the reign of al-Óamìd in the year 333/944.30 This confirms al-Tha'àlibì’s presentation of al-Muß'abì as a key figure in the Ismaili interlude. It also confirms two of NiΩàm alMulk’s claims: the troops must indeed have taken action against Ismailism; and they must indeed have done so while Naßr was still alive (since Naßr outlived al-Muß'abì according to al-Tha'àlibì). The only problem is that it does not leave much time for al-Muß'abì’s vizierate. Naßr died on Rajab 27, 331,31 and al-Muß'abì died some Jorjani, Tehran and Paris, 1955, 35–37). And Ibn Óibbàn al-Bustì was rumoured to have written a book on the Qaràmi†a for him in return for the judgeship of Samarqand; the book was presumably in favour of Ismailism rather than against it since the locals wanted to kill him when they found out about it (Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-buldàn, F. Wüstenfeld, ed., Leipzig, 1866–1873, I, 619–620, citing the Baykandì traditionist al-Sulaymànì). 29 Najm al-Dìn 'Umar b. Mu˙ammad al-Nasafì, al-Qand fì dhikr 'ulamà" samarqand, N.M. al-Fàryàbì, ed., Riyad, 1991, 305–306, citing 'Abd al-Óamìd b. al-Mu'taßim al-Nasafì; al-Samarqandì, Muntakhab al-qand fì ta"rìkh samarqand, MS, Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris), manuscrit arabe, no. 6284, fols. 43a–b. On these works, see J. Weinberger, ‘The authorship of Two Twelfth-Century Transoxanian Biographical Dictionaries’, Arabica 33, 1986, 369–382. 30 Nasafì, Qand, 88. The Ismaili al-Nasafì’s ism is here given as Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Óamdawayh. 31 Cf. below, note 39. For the sake of clarity we only give hijrì dates when the discussion involves chronology.

        

45

time before him. One would thus assume the chilling prayer which preceded his death to have been made in Rama∂àn, 330. But if alMuß'abì died in Rama∂àn, 330, when did he become vizier? His predecessor, Abù 'Alì al-Jayhànì, also died in 330, apparently as vizier.32 Since there is no doubt that al-Muß'abì, previously leader of the dìwàn al-rasà"il,33 rose to the vizierate,34 one solution would be that he only held the position for a couple of months. But it seems more likely that al-Jayhànì had been dismissed some time before 330, for he and al-Muß'abì may have died as a result of the same military action by the Bukhàràn troops.35 If Najm al-Dìn al-Nasafì confirms part of NiΩàm al-Mulk’s story about the downfall of Ismailism, other sources show the rest of it to be fiction. It is characteristic that NiΩàm al-Mulk knows nothing about either al-Muß'abì or Abù 'Alì al-Jayhànì, let alone the Manàdìlì known as al-Íabbàgh who was al-Nasafì’s collaborator (and on whom we have not found any further information). His long story of a military plot involves an anonymous sipahsàlàr who was allegedly offered the throne by the troops and killed by the valiant Nù˙, but who cannot be identified. He would have to be either Aytàsh, the chief ˙àjib who commanded the troops in Bukhàrà, or Abù 'Alì b. Mu˙tàj al-Íàghànì, the governor of Khuràsàn at the time, but Aytàsh is mentioned among the converts to Ismailism and Abù 'Alì al-Íàghànì was not killed by Nù˙.36 If anybody plotted, it seems to have been the valiant Nù˙ himself: numismatic evidence suggests that he made a bid for the throne in 329–30, when his name appears on coins from ˇukharistàn and Farghàna in lieu of his father’s. But Naßr’s name remains on the precious metal coinage of the mints of Nìshàpùr and Samarqand right up to 331 and reappears on the coinage of ˇukharistàn in 331, so apparently the revolt (if a revolt it was) came to an end a year before Naßr’s death. It is impossible to tell whether the episode was connected with Naßr’s conversion to Ismailism or with Nù˙’s own struggles against his brother Ismà'ìl over the heir

32 Ibn al-Athìr, al-Kàmil fì ’l-ta"rìkh, C.J. Tornberg, ed., Leiden, 1851–76, viii, 294; ed. Beirut 1965–67 (hereafter B), viii, 393. Ibn al-Athìr could of course call him Naßr’s vizier with reference to past office, as in his report of the death of Bal'amì (viii, 283/B 378). 33 Bayhaqì, Tàrìkh-i Bayhaqì, Ghanì and Fayyà∂, ed., Tehran 1324, 107.1. 34 It is confirmed by al-Tha'àlibì, Yatìmat al-dahr, Cairo, 1934, iv, 75. 35 As conjectured by Barthold, Turkestan, 257. 36 Cf. below, note 60 (Aytàsh); EI 2, s.v. ‘Mu˙tàjids’; Barthold, Turkestan, 254n (where the problem is noted).

46

    

apparency, but the events were probably as confusing to NiΩàm alMulk as they are to us.37 He seems to have tidied them up, and nicely sanitised them, by recourse to a famous prototype, the story of the rise and fall of Mazdakism at the Sasanian court as told, among others, by NiΩàm al-Mulk himself. In this story too a king (Kavàdh) is seduced by heretics, whereupon his valiant son (Khusraw) takes action against them; and here too the son deposes his father or makes him abdicate (or rules jointly with him).38 In historical fact Naßr remained on the throne until his death. He died on Rajab 27, 331/April 6, 943,39 apparently of tuberculosis after an illness of thirteen months.40 Nù˙ was enthroned after the customary three days’ mourning on Sha'bàn 1, 331/April 10, 943.41 It is easy to see how NiΩàm al-Mulk’s story could develop. The sources agree that Naßr II fell ill some time before his death and withdrew from courtly life to devote himself to pious exercises.42 If Ibn al-Athìr is right that his illness lasted thirteen months, it will have begun in Jumàdà II, 330, four months before al-Muß'abì was killed. He will thus have adopted his ascetic lifestyle close to the

37 For Nù˙’s struggles with Ismà'ìl over the succession towards the end of Naßr’s life, see al-Íùlì, Akhbàr al-Rà∂ì wa’l-Muttaqì bi’llàh, J. Heyworth Dunne, ed., Cairo, 1935, 237. Naßr resolved the dispute by having Ismà'ìl killed. For the coins, see F. Schwarz, Bal¢ und die Landschaften am oberen Oxus (Sylloge numorum arabicorum Tübingen, XIVc ›uràsàn), Tübingen, 2002, nos 186, 592–594, 596 (dirhams of Balkh and Andaràba); T. Mayer, Nord-und Ostzentralasien (Sylloge numorum arabicorum Tübingen, XVb Mittelasien II), Tübingen, 1998, nos 44–45 ( fulùs of Farghàna). The numismatic evidence only came to our attention after the article had gone to press: Treadwell hopes to discuss the coins cited here, as well as several related unpublished issues, in greater detail in a forthcoming publication. 38 NiΩàm al-Mulk, 278 = 211 (ch. 44 #26); cf. P. Crone, ‘Kavàd’s Heresy and Mazdak’s Revolt’, Iran 29, 1991, 23 and notes 50–52 thereto. 39 Al-Sam'ànì, al-Ansàb, Hyderabad, 1976, vii, 27 (s.v. al-Sàmànì); Barthold, Turkestan, 255. Numerous other sources place Naßr’s death in 331 without giving the precise day or month. The earlier date of Rama∂àn 12, 330/May 31, 942, found in some late sources, is accepted by Barthold as the date of Naßr’s supposed abdication (but it predates the military reaction as dated in the Qand, above, note 29). 40 Thus Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 300/B 401, 402. The claim that he was murdered by his ghilmàn rests on confusion with his father (cf. Barthold, Turkestan, 255). 41 Narshakhì, Tàrìkh-i bukhàrà, M. Ri∂awì, ed., Tehran, 1351, 132 = id., The History of Bukhara, R.N. Frye, tr., Cambridge Mass., 1954, 97; Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 301/B 403; Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh (Zayn al-akhbàr), M. Qazwìnì, ed., Tehran, 1327, 24; 'A. Óabìbì, ed., Tehran, 1347, 339; Barthold, Turkestan, 256. Numerous other sources place Nù˙’s accession after his father’s death without giving precise dates. 42 In addition to al-Tha'àlibì, see Ibn al-Nadìm (above, note 23); Ibn al-Athìr (Kàmil, viii, 301/B 401, 402 f.); Mìrkhwànd, Tàrikh-i raw∂at-i ßafà, Tehran, 1338–39, iv, 44 = id., Histoire des Samanides, M. Defrémery, tr., Paris, 1847, 141.

        

47

time of the reaction against Ismailism, and to some this will have conveyed the impression that he was repenting of his conversion. To al-Tha'àlibì, on the other hand, his withdrawal suggested that he only became an Ismaili after he had fallen ill. Both views are undoubtedly meant to exonerate him: either he repudiated his error when he fell ill or else he only adopted it after illness had unsettled his mind. To those who held him to have repented of his conversion, his withdrawal will have allowed for the further embellishment that Nù˙ had made him abdicate, suggested by the parallel between Kavàdh and himself. Just as Naßr II remained on the throne until he died, so he seems to have remained an Ismaili. Possibly, the man with whom he replaced al-Muß'abì was an Ismaili too.43 No doubt the progress of Ismailism was checked by the killing of al-Muß'abì (and al-Jayhànì?) and the onset of Naßr’s illness, but al-Nasafì was left alive, and so presumably was Ibn Sawàda. According to al-Tha'àlibì, the Ismailis were still sufficiently well entrenched at the court at the time of Naßr’s death to try to convert Nù˙. It was only after his accession that Nù˙ began to take action against them, as several sources make clear,44 and only then that the missionaries were executed: Ibn alAthìr places al-Nasafì’s death in 331/943 without knowing anything about the wider context.45 Numerous modern scholars place it in 332/944, on what basis we do not know.46 Najm al-Dìn al-Nasafì places it in 333/944–5, as mentioned above.47 Al-Tha'àlibì correctly identifies Nù˙’s religious mentor as al-Óàkim al-Jalìl, alias Abù al-Fa∂l Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad alSulamì, a Óanafì scholar and qà∂ì of Bukhàrà who was appointed 43 Cf. al-Muqaddasì, A˙san al-taqàsìm fì ma'rifat al-aqàlìm, M.J. de Goeje, ed., Leiden, 1906, 337.13, where Abù Manßùr Mu˙ammad b. 'Uzayr appears as Nù˙’s first vizier, suggesting that Nù˙ had inherited him from his father; the first vizier he appointed himself was al-Óàkim al-Jalìl (below, note 48). For the possibility that Ibn 'Uzayr was an Ismaili, see below, section II(d). 44 Cf. al-Tha'àlibì above (“When al-Sa'ìd died and his son al-Óamìd took his place”); Ibn al-Nadìm (above, note 23); Rashìd al-Dìn in Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 232 = 229. 45 Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 302/B 404. 46 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 221; W. Madelung, ‘Das Imamat in der frühen ismailitischen Lehre’, Der Islam, 37, 1961, 102; R.N. Frye, Bukhara, the Medieval Achievement, 2nd edition Costa Mesa, CA, 1996, 56 (first published 1965); EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Nasafì’ (Poonawala); F. Daftary, The Ismà'ìlìs, their History and Doctrines, Cambridge, 1990, 123; H. Halm, Das Reich des Mahdi, Munich, 1991, 261. 47 Nasafì, Qand, 88. We assume this to be the correct date.

48

    

vizier after Nù˙’s accession.48 He performed disastrously as vizier and ended up, like al-Muß'abì, by falling foul of the troups who killed him on Rabì' II, 334 or Jumàdà I, 335 (November-December 945 or 946).49 According to Ibn al-Nadìm, Nù˙ arranged a public debate in which the Ismailis were defeated, but al-Tha'àlibì denies it. According to him, it was in a private exchange that he defeated al-Nasafì’s envoy, and he refused al-Nasafì’s last-minute request for a public debate.50 Public or private, it is after this defeat that al-Nasafì is put to death according to both Ibn al-Nadìm and al-Tha'àlibì. Al-Tha'àlibì says nothing about a purge (it is Ma˙mùd of Ghazna who eradicates Ismailis in his account), and Najm al-Dìn al-Nasafì only knows of a vendetta against the Ismailis on the part of the ra"ìs Abù 'Uthmàn Sa'ìd b. Ibràhìm.51 It stands to reason that Nù˙ and his scholar vizier should have taken action too, but they seem to have done so in a more protracted and less systematic manner than Ibn al-Nadìm and above all NiΩàm al-Mulk would have it, for many real or alleged Ismailis appear in high positions after Nù˙’s accession and some were not affected by the purge at all.52 There were still Ismailis in the Samanid administration under Nù˙ II (365–87/ 976–97), when Ibn Sìnà’s father was among them.53 (c) The second episode According to NiΩàm al-Mulk, the Ismailis made a second bid for power fifteen years into the reign of Manßùr I, known as al-Sadìd (350–65/961–76). The two missionaries this time were Abù al-Fa∂l 48 Sam'ànì, Ansàb, viii, 187 ff. (s.v. ‘al-shahìd’); also Muqaddasì, A˙san, 337; Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh, Qazwìnì, ed., 24; Óabìbì, ed., 339; Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 301/B 403. He appears as Abù Dharr in Narshakhì, Bukhàrà, 132 = 97. Najm al-Dìn alNasafì gives the qà∂ì a collaborator by the name of Abù Óafß A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad al-'Ijlì (Qand, 88), identified as a Bukhàràn jurist, mushìr al-mamlaka and prosecutor of a dahrì in a story of how the Chinese came to send an embassy to Naßr II in 327/938–9 (al-Rashìd b. al-Zubayr, Kitàb al-dhakhà"ir wa’l-tu˙af, M. Óamìd Allàh, ed., Kuwait, 1959, 140). 49 Sam'ànì has the first date (Ansàb, viii, 191, where he is al-Óàkim al-Shahìd and a great hero); the second is given by Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 345/B 459; and Mìrkhwànd, Dastùr al-wuzarà", S. Nafìsì, ed., Tehran, 1317, 109. For a detailed account, see Barthold, Turkestan, 257 f. (where the date is given as Jan. 947). 50 Cf. further below, end of section III(a). 51 Nasafì, Qand, 88, 306. 52 Cf. 'Alì Zarràd, Abù Manßùr al-Íàghànì, Jayhànì II, Bakr b. Màlik, and perhaps also Abù Manßùr Mu˙ammad b. 'Uzayr (below, section II (d), nos. 5, 6, 14, 17). 53 W.E. Gohlman, ed. and tr., The Life of Ibn Sina, Albany, NY, 1974, 16f = 17 f.

        

49

Zangurzbardìjì and 'Atìq. They built up their power for a long time, secretly putting their co-religionists into influential positions until (the secrecy notwithstanding) people in far-off places began to think that the whole court had become Bà†inì. “Most of your nobles, courtiers and officials have adopted the religion of the Qarma†ìs; both great and small have joined in it, and they are planning to revolt”, Alptegin wrote to Manßùr. The Ismailis managed to have the vizier, Abù 'Alì Bal'amì, and the general, Baktuzun, thrown into jail but both were eventually released thanks to the intervention of the qà∂ì Abù A˙mad Marghazì, who is the hero of the story along with Alptegin, the sipahsàlàr at the time. A public debate was arranged in which the Ismailis were defeated. The missionaries were lashed and died in jail, and a general persecution of Ismailis followed.54 The second bid for power is described as a better planned and more prolonged affair than the first, but for some reason it hardly ever gets a mention in the modern literature.55 Deleting it from the record is probably right, but we do need to know why. Manßùr I ruled from 350 to 365, so if the second episode occurred in the fifteenth year of his reign, as NiΩàm al-Mulk says, it should be placed in 365, the year in which he died. But by 365 two of the key figures in the story had long been dead. Alptegin, who appears as a staunch supporter of the regime, was sipahsàlàr under Nù˙ I (331–43) and his son 'Abd al-Malik (343–50), but died in a state of semi-revolt at Ghazna in 352.56 Abù Manßùr Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Razzàq al-ˇùsì, who figures as the leading Ismaili in the story, briefly replaced him as sipahsàlàr in 349 and died in battle in 350, very much as NiΩàm al-Mulk describes it, but not in 365.57 If there 54

NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 299–305 = 227–233 (ch. 46, ##22–30). Both Barthold (Turkestan, 253–257, 262–263) and Stern (‘Missionaries’, 220 ff.) somehow missed it. Hence presumably the fact that later scholars such as Frye (Bukhara, 56), Daftary (Ismà'ìlìs, 123), Halm (Reich des Mahdi, 259–262), and P. Walker (Early Philosophical Shiism, Cambridge 1993, 16) all narrate the first episode on the basis of NiΩàm al-Mulk without any indication, or even explicit denial, that anything like it ever happened again. The second episode is briefly mentioned in Gohlman, Life of Ibn Sina, 120, note 11, but the only discussions we know are Treadwell, ‘Political History’, 200–205 (superseded by the present paper), and E. Daniel, ‘The Samanid “Translations” of ˇabarì’, paper presented at the International Conference on the Life and Works of al-ˇabarì, University of St. Andrews, 1995 (cited in J.S. Meisami, Persian Historiography to the End of the Twelfth Century, Edinburgh, 1999, 26 f.). 56 C.E. Bosworth, The Ghaznavids, Beirut, 1973, 38. 57 Barthold, Turkestan, 262 f. 55

50

    

was a second Ismaili bid for power, it will thus have occurred c. 348–50,58 however NiΩàm al-Mulk may have arrived at his peculiar date. But if there was such a bid, it is strange that it was not masterminded by the leaders of the Khurasani mission at the time, that is al-Nasafì’s son Mas'ùd (nicknamed Dihqàn) and Abù Ya'qùb alSijistànì,59 but rather by two otherwise unknown missionaries. Moreover, a suspicious amount of the information about the second episode duplicates the first. Thus the converts include the ˙àjib-i khàßß Aytàsh in the first episode, the ˙àjib-i buzurg Manßùr b. Bàyqarà in the second.60 Óasan Malik, governor of Ìlàq and one of the king’s khawàßß who is executed as an Ismaili in the first episode, reappears in the second as a resident at the capital and the commander against Alptegin, without apparently converting this time round (unless he is identical with the Sa'ìd/Abù Sa'ìd Malik who is said to have done so).61 A Jayhànì figures on the Ismaili side on both occasions.62 A sipahsàlàr and a qà∂ì take action against the heretics in both stories, and the qà∂ì declines an offer of the vizierate in both (though alÓàkim al-Jalìl eventually accepted it).63 A public debate in which the Ismailis are defeated also figures in both episodes, and in both this serves as a signal for purges which completely eradicate Ismailism from Khurasan and Transoxania.64 On top of that, there is a curious inconsistency in the story. The Ismailis build up their power at the centre, but all the action is in the provinces, partly in ˇàlaqàn, where the Qaràmi†a were ‘committing murders and other crimes’, partly in Farghàna, Khujand and Kàsàn, where the Qaràmi†a were urging the ‘White-clothed ones’ (i.e. Khurramìs) to revolt, and partly at ˇùs, where Abù Manßùr b. 'Abd al-Razzàq was killed. NiΩàm al-Mulk explains that the Ismailis

58

Similarly Daniel, ‘Translations’ (in Meisami, Historiography, 26). Cf. Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 220–222. We have no death date for either, but Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì died after 361 (Walker, Early Philosophical Shiism, 18). 60 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 288, 299 = 219, 228 (ch. 46, ##8, 22). 61 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 288, 295, 299, 301 = 219, 224, 228, 229 (ch. 46 ##9, 17, 22, 23). 62 See below, section (d). 63 Cf. al-Óàkim al-Jalìl in Sam'ànì, Ansàb, viii, 188.3; Abù A˙mad in NiΩàm alMulk, 302 = 230 (ch. 46, #26). 64 NiΩàm al-Mulk softens the inconsistency by adding, in the first story, that if any survived, they dared not show themselves. “Thus the sect remained concealed in Khurasan” (Siyar, 295 f. =224, ch. 46, #17). 59

        

51

intended to capture the king before moving on to the conquest of Transoxania,65 but he does not mention any action in the capital at all. It sounds as if his story was really about provincial disturbances. Finally, the death of Abù Manßùr b. 'Abd al-Razzàq, which is the climax of the story, was undoubtedly a major event in actual fact, but what did it have to do with Ismailism? Not a single source apart from NiΩàm al-Mulk identifies this man, famed for his role in the creation of the Shàhnàme, as an Ismaili. He may have been an Imami, and he did ally himself with the (Shiite) Bùyids on two occasions, the second being the year in which he died.66 To NiΩàm al-Mulk this may have been tantamount to espousing Ismailism; but more probably, we have here another case of duplication. The converts in the first episode include Abù Manßùr al-Íàghànì, probably a brother of Abù 'Alì al-Íàghànì, a sipahsàlàr who rebelled against Nù˙ I.67 The most prominent convert in the second episode is Abù Manßùr b. 'Abd al-Razzàq al-ˇùsì, a sipahsàlàr who rebelled against Manßùr I. According to Jùzjànì, Abù Manßùr b. 'Uzayr, vizier to 'Abd al-Malik, was a convert to Ismailism along with Bakr b. Màlik, a sipahsàlàr who was assassinated with official blessing.68 Jùzjànì further claims that the sipahsàlàr Abù 'Alì Sìmjùr, who rebelled under Nù˙ II b. Manßùr, converted to Ismailism under the influence of the very Qaràmi†a of ˇàlaqàn who appear as allies of Abù Manßùr b. 'Abd al-Razzàq of ˇùs in NiΩàm al-Mulk’s second episode.69 Clearly, it is the same story going round and round. The only occasion on which the constellation of Abù Manßùr, Abù 'Alì, the rebellious sipahsàlàr, and Ismailism is likely to be correct is the first.70 The story of the second Ismaili bid for power was probably triggered by provincial disturbances caused, in 348–50, by Ismailis and/or Khurramìs. To NiΩàm al-Mulk the distinction was academic. Either way it will have struck him (or his sources) as natural to connect 65

NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 300 = 228 (ch. 46, #22). Cf. Ibn Bàbùya, 'Uyùn akhbàr al-ri∂à, M. al-Óusaynì al-Làjawardì, ed., Tehran, n.d., ii, 279, 285 f., where he is a devotee of al-Ri∂à’s shrine (we owe this reference to Parvane Pourshariati); V. Minorsky, ‘The Older Preface to the Shàh Nàma’, in Studi orientalistici in onore di Giorgio Levi della Vida, Rome, 1956, ii, 164 f. 67 See below, section (d). 68 Jùzjànì, ˇabaqàt-i-nàßirì, 'A.-Ó. Óabìbì, ed., Kàbul, 1328, 251; H.G. Raverty, tr., New Delhi, 1970 (first published 1881), i, 40. See also below, section II (d). 69 Jùzjànì, ˇabaqàt-i nàßirì, 254 = 46 f.; cf. 253 = 44, where we are told that Abù 'Alì Sìmjùr controlled ˇùs. 70 See below, section II(d). 66

52

    

the disturbances with the problems posed at the time by the sipahsàlàr, especially as the latter’s kunya conjured up a convert. If this convert was an Ismaili, there must have been a major plot to subvert the Samanid state from within: Sunnis were for ever suspecting the existence of such plots. The suspicion will have generated details of the alleged plot by duplication of the first episode, with due revision of the names and other changes to fit the later circumstances. Not knowing that Nù˙ I had been succeeded by 'Abd al-Malik I, NiΩàm al-Mulk completed his fictionalisation of history by placing the episode in the fifteenth year of Nù˙’s second successor, al-Manßùr I. (d) The converts The sources are agreed that Ismailism appealed strongly to the Samanid elite: the proselytes included ‘kings’, leading generals, and ‘the headmen of the towns, potentates, squires and leading scribes of the bureaux’ (ru"asà" al-bilàd wa’l-salà†ìn wa’l-dahàqìn wa-a'yàn al-kataba fì ’l-dawàwìn).71 Ismailis may have dominated the court for a full seven years, from al-Jayhànì II’s rise to the vizierate in 326/937–38 to the execution of the missionaries in 333/944–45. The claim that the life of the headman Sa'ìd b. Ibràhìm was spent fighting Ismaili fanaticism (afnà 'umrahu fì ta'aßßub al-qaràmi†a) suggests that Ismailism was a major force for a good deal longer, if not perhaps at the court.72 We hear of one scholar who was killed in Isfìjàb in the time of the above-mentioned headman fì ta'aßßub al-qaràmi†a; and the headman was himself hauled before the court, as has been seen.73 Altogether, there can be no doubt that the spread of Ismailism in Samanid Transoxania was a development of major importance. Only NiΩàm al-Mulk and al-Th'àlibì provide us with the actual names of converts, however. There is no overlap between their lists: NiΩàm al-Mulk’s names are drawn from the intimate circle of the Samanid court, while al-Tha'àlibì only lists ‘kings’, as befits the fact that he is concerned with perils to which kings are prone. Neither list comes across as particularly reliable, in so far as it can be checked 71

Tha'àlibì (above, I, #460); Ibn al-Nadìm (above, note 22); Nasafì, Qand, 88. Nasafì, Qand, 88. 73 Nasafì, Qand, 89, no. 131; above, note 28. Ta'aßßub al-qaràmi†a seems to be Najm al-Dìn al-Nasafì’s standard expression for the Ismaili interlude. 72

        

53

(many of the converts mentioned by NiΩàm al-Mulk are unknown) but then the lists will have been based largely on guesswork, for conversion was not a public act and most proselytes will have hidden their convictions. False denunciations must have abounded. Of the converts mentioned by NiΩàm al-Mulk in the first episode, nothing further is known of (1) Abù Bakr Nakhshabì, a boon companion of the amir who was killed in the purge; (2) Ash'ath, a private secretary and boon companion of the amir whose sister was married to Abù Manßùr al-Íàghànì (below, no. 6) and who was also killed in the purge; (3) Aytàsh, the private chamberlain (˙àjib-i khàßß) and (4) Óasan Malik, a governor of Ìlàq and intimate of the amir who was also executed, but who nonetheless reappears in the second episode.74 But of (5) 'Alì Zarràd, a private steward (wakìl khàßß), we learn from Miskawayh that he was one of the generals and leading men under Nù˙, who sent him to negotiate about tribute with 'Imàd alDawla at Rayy in 334/945–46.75 If he was an Ismaili, it does not seem to have affected his career. Of (6), Abù Manßùr al-Íàghànì, we are told that he was an army inspector ('àri∂) married to the sister of Ash'ath (above, no. 2) and that he was executed along with him.76 The chances are that he was the brother of Abù 'Alì b. alMu˙tàj al-Íàghànì, who was sipahsàlàr under Naßr and initially also under Nù˙.77 In 333/944–45 Nù˙ subjected Abù 'Alì to a new 'àri∂ chosen by al-Óàkim al-Jalìl (in replacement of Abù Manßùr?) and assigned the military list to someone else; and in 334/945–46 he dismissed Abù 'Alì altogether, thereby provoking a revolt which almost cost him his throne.78 In the same year, Miskawayh says, the news arrived in Iraq that “Nù˙, the ruler of Khurasan, had arrested Abù 'Alì b. Mu˙tàj’s brothers and killed some of them”.79 It will

74

Cf. above, note 61. NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 288 = 219 (ch. 46, #9); Miskawayh, Tajàrib al-umam in The Eclipse of the Abbasid Caliphate, D.S. Margoliouth and H.F. Amedroz, ed. and tr., Oxford, 1920–21, ii, 101, 102 = v, 106, 108 ('Alì b. Mùsà, known as al-Zarràr). 76 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 288 = 218 (ch. 46, #8). 77 Barthold, Turkestan, 254, n. 1, suggests that he was a son rather than a brother of Abù 'Alì, which is chronologically less plausible. For the Mu˙tàjids, see C.E. Bosworth, ‘The Rulers of Chaghàniyàn in Early Islamic Times’, Iran 19, 1981, 1–20; id. in EI 2, s.v. ‘Mu˙tàdjids’. 78 Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, 333 f., 344/B 444, 458f; Bosworth, ‘Rulers of Chaghàniyàn’, 6–9. 79 Miskawayh, Tajàrib, ii, 100 = v, 105. 75

54

    

have been on this occasion that Abù Manßùr was executed. Miskawayh says nothing about the charge of Ismailism, but he was a distant observer and one would be inclined to believe NiΩàm al-Mulk here, for if the charge had been made up to justify the removal of the Mu˙tàjids, the obvious person to direct it at would have been Abù 'Alì himself. It is possible that the brothers would have been executed even if they had not been Ismailis, but given the timing of Nù˙’s moves and the explicit mention of al-Óàkim al-Jalìl’s involvement, it does look as if Ismailism was a factor in the downfall of this family. Most of the men on NiΩàm al-Mulk’s list of converts in the second episode are also unknown, and he himself supplies less information about them. This holds true of (7) Abù al-'Abbàs Jarrà˙, (8) Abù Sa'ìd Malik, except that he may be identical with Óasan Malik, as mentioned above,80 (9) Ja'far, (10) Khumàrtigìn and (11) Takìnak (or Bakìnak).81 We do have a fair amount of information on (12) Abù Manßùr (Mu˙ammad) b. 'Abd al-Razzàq, but he does not seem to have been an Ismaili, as discussed already. Of (13) Manßùr b. Bàyqarà (or Bà"iqrà), ˙àjib-i buzurg of Manßùr I according to NiΩàm al-Mulk,82 we know that he was a man of prominence under Manßùr’s predecessor,83 and also that he served as ˙àjib under Manßùr himself;84 but by Manßùr’s time the events behind the alleged second episode were over, so either he was not an Ismaili after all or else Ismailism was perfectly compatible with high office even at so late a date. That leaves us with (14) Abù 'Abdallàh al-Jayhànì. There are three Jayhànì viziers in Samanid history, a father, a son and a grandson. The first is Abù 'Abdallàh Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad, who was vizier to Naßr b. A˙mad from about 301/913–14 until his death in 313/925.85

80

Cf. above, note 61. NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 299 = 228 (ch. 46, #22). 82 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 299, cf. also 300, 301 = 228, 229 (ch. 46, ##22, 23). 83 He was sent with the insignia of government to Abù Manßùr b. 'Abd al-Razzàq on the latter’s appointment to Khurasan in 349 (Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh, Qazwìnì, ed., 31; Óabìbì, ed., 353). 84 Muqaddasì, A˙san, 338.4. For copper coins struck in Farghànà in the later 350s which identify him as ˙àjib, see B.D. Kochnev, ‘Tiurki v udel’noî sisteme Samanidskoî Fergany (X v.)’, in Materialy k etnicheskoî istorii naseleniia Sredneî Azii, V.P. Alekseev, ed., Tashkent, 1986, 71. 85 Thus Ibn ¸àfir, Akhbàr al-duwal al-islàmiyya, MS, Ambrosiana (Milan), Arab. G6, fol. 126a; chapter on the Samanids ed. Treadwell (‘Political History’, 333–352), 81

        

55

He was a fierce Shu'ùbì,86 a zindìq in the sense of a Manichaean dualist,87 and probably the Jayhànì who patronised the Gnostic preacher (Ibn) al-Kayyàl.88 When he died, the Bukhàràns stoned his coffin and refused to pray over him.89 The second Jayhànì is Abù 'Alì Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad, who was vizier to Naßr from 326/937–38 until he was succeeded by al-Muß'abì in 330/941–42, or at an earlier date. He is the Jayhànì said by al-Tha'àlibì to have been an Ismaili convert (or at least sympathiser) and by others to have patronised al-Kayyàl.90 The third is Abù 'Abdallàh A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad: he is the Jayhànì who appears as an Ismaili in NiΩàm al-Mulk’s second episode.91 Given the heretical views of his father and grandfather the claim is highly plausible, but it may of course have been on that very basis that NiΩàm al-Mulk made it. If this Jayhànì was indeed an Ismaili, he was among those who got away with it, for he was appointed vizier by Manßùr I in 365/975–7692 and stayed on under Nù˙ II, when he asked to be excused on grounds of age; he was dismissed in Rabì ' II, 367/NovemberDecember 977.93 Al-Tha'àlibì’s list is more problematic than NiΩàm al-Mulk’s, for although every person he mentions is well known, only two of them (apart from al-Muß'abì and al-Jayhànì) are rumoured elsewhere to have been Ismailis. Did al-Tha'àlibì have better information and/or

344: he died as vizier in Jumàdà II, 313, after serving for twelve years. But the end of his vizierate is placed in 310/922–3 in EI 2, s.vv. ‘al-Djayhànì’ (supplement; Pellat), ‘al-Kayyàl’ (Madelung). 86 Abù Óayyàn al-Taw˙ìdì, Kitàb al-imtà' wa’l-mu"ànasa, A. Amìn and A. al-Zayn, eds, Beirut, n.d., i, 78–90. He does not specify which of the Jayhànìs he has in mind, but Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad is the only one to answer to the description of adìb. For his books, see Ibn al-Nadìm, 153 = I, 302 (where his ism is reversed). 87 Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, 401–409 = ii, 804; cf. 153.10 = I, 303 (s.v. al-Balkhì, where his kunya is wrongly given as Abù 'Alì). 88 EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Kayyàl’ (Madelung); cf. further below, section III (b). 89 Ibn ¸àfir, Duwal, fol. 126a (Treadwell, ed., 344). 90 EI 2, supplement, s.v. ‘al-Djayhànì’ (Pellat); EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Kayyàl’ (Madelung); above, note 31. 91 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 299 = 228 (ch. 46, #22). 92 Ibn ¸àfir, Duwal, fol. 128a (Treadwell, ed., 347); Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh, Qazwìnì, ed., 36; Óabìbì, ed., 361; Barthold, Turkestan, 263 f. 93 Muqaddasì, A˙san, 338.8; Ibn ¸àfir, Duwal, fol. 130b (Treadwell, ed., 349); Narshakhì, Bukhàrà, 136 = 99 f.; Yàqùt, Mu"jam al-udabà", A.F. Rifà'ì, ed., Cairo 1936–38, iv, 192 (where he is treated as identical with his namesake and grandfather, the first Jayhànì vizier who was famed as a geographer).

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less discretion than others about people’s religious inclinations, or was he simply good at picking up malicious gossip? We do not know. His list consists of five men. The first is (15) Abù 'Alì (Mu˙ammad) b. Ilyàs, the founder of the Ilyàsid dynasty in Kirmàn (320–57/932–68), who does not seem to figure as an Ismaili in any other source.94 The second is (16) Abù 'Alì b. Sìmjùr, who could be either Ibràhìm b. Sìmjùr (d. 336/948) or Mu˙ammad al-MuΩaffar the Sìmjùrid (d. 387/997). Both served as sipahsàlàrs and governors of Khurasan, the former under Naßr II and Nù˙ I, the latter under Nù˙ II.95 The charge is odd whoever is meant. It is true that the later Sìmjùrid appears as an Ismaili in Juzjànì, and that he adopted the possibly Ismaili title al-mu"ayyad min al-samà"; but the nature of the title is highly uncertain, and Juzjànì is probably confusing him with Abù 'Alì al-Íàghànì and his brother, as has been seen.96 Al-Sam'ànì depicts the entire Sìmjùrid family as traditionalist in orientation, singing its praises in the most fervent terms.97 The third name on al-Tha'àlibì’s list is (17) Bakr b. Màlik, a Turkish general who was sipahsàlàr under Nù˙ and his successor and who was assassinated in Bukhàrà in 345/956–57.98 Juzjànì claims that he and the vizier Abù Manßùr Mu˙ammad b. 'Uzayr, who was arrested about the same time, were converts to Ismailism,99 but there is reason to suspect confusion with Abù 'Alì al-Íàghànì and his brother 94

Cf. C.E. Bosworth, ‘The Banù Ilyàs of Kirmàn’, in C.E. Bosworth, ed., Iran and Islam, Edinburgh, 1971, 110. 95 Cf. C.E. Bosworth, The New Islamic Dynasties, New York, 1996, 175; EI 2, s.v. ‘Sìmdjùrids’ (Bosworth) and the literature cited there. 96 Above, note 69 (possibly, this was also how Abù 'Alì b. Ilyàs became an Ismaili). For the title, mentioned by the chronicles without comment and numismatically attested, see W.L. Treadwell, ‘Shàhànshàh and al-malik al-mu"ayyad: the legitimation of power in Samanid and Buyid Iran’, in Culture and Memory in Medieval Islam: Essays in Honour of Wilferd Madelung, J.W. Meri and F. Daftary, eds, London, forthcoming. 97 Sam'ànì, Ansàb, vii, 351–355. 98 Muqaddasì, A˙san, 337.12; Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 379/B 505; Ibn ¸àfir, Duwal, 127b (Treadwell, ed., 346); Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh, Qazwìnì, ed., 31; Óabìbì, ed., 352. He and his father Màlik b. Sunkurtegìn(?) had been governors of Naßràbàd in Ferghàna from 336/947–48 to, apparently, Bakr’s death. Cf. E.A. Davidovich, ‘Vladeteli Naßrabada (po numizmaticheskim dannym)’, Kratkie soobshcheniia instituta istorii material’noì kul’tury 61, 1956, 107–113. His father, known as ßà˙ib Farghàna to al-Rashìd b. al-Zubayr (Dhakhà"ir, 141), appears as commander-in-chief of a Samanid expedition to Jurjàn already in 333/944–45 (Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 342/B 443). 99 See above, note 68. For his vizierate and arrest, see Muqaddasì, A˙san, 338.13; Ibn ¸àfir, Duwal, 127b (ed. Treadwell, 346); Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh, Qazwìnì, ed., 31; Óabìbì, ed., 352.

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yet again.100 Certainly, the families of the alleged converts do not seem to have been disgraced: Abù Manßùr’s son, 'Abdallàh b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Uzayr, was vizier on several occasions under Nù˙ II,101 and members of Bakr b. Màlik’s family appear in the retinue of the sipahsàlàr Tàsh in 371/981–82.102 So either the charge was false or else we have further examples here of high-ranking Ismailis who were allowed to stay in place. Al-Th'àlibì’s fourth and fifth converts are (18) Ibn Bànù, alias Abù Ja'far A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Khalaf b. Layth, and (19) ˇàhir b. Mu˙ammad al-Sijzì, two Íaffàrids who between them ruled Sìstàn from 311/923 to 359/970.103 ˇàhir does not seem to figure as an Ismaili elsewhere. As regards Ibn Bànù, Ibn al-Dawàdàrì mentions an Ismaili missionary named as Ibn Bàbawayh ßà˙ib Sijistàn,104 which one might read as ‘Ibn Bànawayh, ruler of Sìstàn’. It is however more likely that it should be read as ‘Ibn Bandàna, missionary of Sìstàn’, i.e. Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì.105 Even so, it is clear from the story of Ibn Óibbàn al-Bustì’s alleged book about the Qaràmi†a that Ibn Bànù was rumoured to be an Ismaili. Ibn Óibbàn is said to have written this book for al-Muß'abì in return for the judgeship of Samarqand and later to have used it again to secure appointments from ‘Ibn Bàbù’ in Sìstàn.106 Ibn Bànù and his son Khalaf (r. with ˇàhir 352–59/963–70; sole ruler 359–393/970–1003) were famed as patrons of philosophy,107 and it was perhaps their interest in philosophy which generated rumours of Ismailism at the Sìstànì court. 100

Cf. above, note 68. Narshakhì, Ta"rìkh, 136 = 100; Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, ix, 19/B 27; Muqaddasì, A˙san, 338.9; Ibn ¸àfir, Duwal, fols. 130a–b (Treadwell, ed., 349); Barthold, Turkestan, 265, 272. For his end under Manßùr II, see Gardìzì, Ta"rìkh, Qazwìnì, ed., 45 f. (read 'Uzayr for 'Azìz); Óabìbì, ed., 377 f. 102 Al-'Utbì in al-Manìnì, al-Fat˙ al-wahbì 'alà ta"rìkh abì naßr al-'utbì, Cairo 1286, i, 105. 103 C.E. Bosworth, ‘The ˇàhirids and Íaffàrids’, in The Cambridge History of Iran, iv, R.N. Frye, ed., Cambridge, 1975, 131–133; id, The History of the Saffarids of Sistan and the Maliks of Nimruz, Costa Mesa, 1994, 282 ff., 302 ff. Ibn Bànù is written Ibn Bànùà with a final alif, presumably for closure on the model of the third person plural. 104 Ibn al-Dawàdàrì, Kanz al-durar wa-jàmi' al-ghurar, vi, Í.-D. al-Munajjid, ed., Cairo, 1961, 95. 105 For his nickname Bandàna (panba-dàna) and appearance in the sources as ßà˙ib sijistàn, see Walker, Early Philosophical Shì'ism, 17. 106 Yàqùt, Buldàn, i, 620.6; cf. above, note 28. 107 D.M. Dunlop, ‘Philosophical Discussions in Sijistan in the 10th Century AD’, Akten des VII. Kongresses für Arabistik und Islamwissenschaften, Göttingen, 1974, A. Dietrich, 101

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One might, in that case, wonder why ˇàhir b. Mu˙ammad appears on the list whereas Khalaf is excluded, but for Khalaf ’s exclusion at least there is a good explanation: he was the ruler who killed Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì.108

III. Samanid Ismailism (a) Al-Tha'àlibì’s picture Al-Tha'àlibì knows Ismailism as a philosophical rather than a messianic movement. Its adherents are aß˙àb al-†abà"i' wa’l-nujùm who call the prophets aß˙àb al-nawàmìs wa’l-˙awà"ij and who speak about the rational soul: they talk philosophical drivel, in other words, not nonsense about the Mahdi. He directs a number of stereotyped charges at them: they do not believe in prophethood, they preach antinomianism as an excuse for wild indulgence in pleasures, and they envelop their movement in a cloak of secrecy to hide its utter depravity. For all that, he is quite well informed about them. Iranian Ismailism became a philosophical creed at the hands of men such as Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì (d. 322/934), al-Nasafì (d. 333/ 944–45) and Abù al-Haytham al-Jurjànì (early fourth/tenth century).109 The philosophers did call the prophets ‘lawgivers’ (Greek sg. nomothetès; Arabic sg. ßà˙ib/wà∂i' al-nàmùs/al-sharì'a),110 but contrary to what al-Tha'àlibì claims, they did not normally deny the reality of prophethood. What they did do, apart from thinking that they could explain its mechanics, was rather to credit prophethood with a somewhat mundane, socio-political role. Prophets, they said, were people who could reformulate philosophical insights as myths and images intelligible to ordinary people and who used this gift to lay ed., Göttingen, 1976. The Ibn Óibbàn mentioned at p. 112 as a participant in such discussions at Ibn Bànùya’s court was presumably Ibn Óibbàn al-Bustì (cf. the preceding note). 108 Rashìd al-Dìn in Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 228; cf. Walker, Early Philosophical Shiism, 17. 109 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 219 f.; id., 'Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì on Persian Religion’, in his Studies, 31 f.; G. Lazard, Les premier poètes persans, Tehran and Paris, 1964, 24 f., and the literature cited there. 110 But the expression aß˙àb al-˙awà"ij is a puzzle to us: the reference may be to the needs which cause humans to form societies, necessitating the laws that prophets bring.

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down the legal and moral rules by which societies were regulated. As founders of polities, they were extremely important, for there could be no socio-political order without them (or so it was claimed);111 and without such order, mankind could not flourish either in this world or the next. Both Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì and Abù Ya'qùb alSijistànì wrote books affirming the existence of prophethood in this vein.112 Like the philosophers they saw prophetic law as a mundane instrument of personal discipline and social management. Prayer, purity and alms were the forms of Mu˙ammad’s governance (siyàsat al-'àmma), as al-Sijistànì put it;113 prophets guided the conformists (ahl al-taqlìd), as the dissident missionary A˙mad (b.) al-Kayyàl said.114 For the higher truth one had to turn to the imams, the expounders of the inner meaning of things (bà†in), originally Gnostic and now philosophical, on which salvation depended. One could avoid downgrading Mu˙ammad by casting him as the bringer of both the law and the interpretation (ta"wìl ) by which its inner meaning was revealed, as did al-Sijistànì.115 But the law itself was still viewed in a utilitarian vein. Its truth was relative, and one day it would be abrogated by the Mahdi. Al-Tha'àlibì does not mention the future abrogation of the law. According to him, it was in the here and now that the missionaries promised to free their converts from the ‘slavery of the law’ (riqq al-sharì'a) and to liberate them from ‘the shackles of religious observance’ (isàr al-diyàna), saying that they would be able to abandon ‘prayer and other acts of worship’. The missionaries did not say that the Mahdi would enable people to do so at the end of times. Again, al-Tha'àlibì comes across as well informed. The Ismailis did speak of the law as chains, and of its subjects as enslaved (musta'bad ), though they did not always mean it in a negative vein;116 and they did have 111 The fallacy of this argument was noted by Ibn Khaldùn, The Muqaddimah, F. Rosenthal, tr., Princeton, 1967, I, 92 f.: most peoples have had political organisation even though they have not had prophets. 112 Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì, A'làm al-nubuwwa, Í. al-Íàwì, ed., Tehran, 1977; Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì, Kitàb ithbàt al-nubuwwàt, 'A. Tàmir, ed., Beirut, 1966. 113 Sijistànì, Ithbàt, 181 f. 114 Al-Shahrastànì, al-Milal wa’l-ni˙al, W. Cureton, ed., London, 1846, 140 (M.S. Kaylànì, ed., Cairo, 1961, i, 183) = id., Livre des religions et des sectes, D. Gimaret, J. Jolivet, and G. Monnot, trs, UNESCO, 1986, i, 529. On al-Kayyàl, see further below, section III (b). 115 Sijistànì, Ithbàt, 4.8–9. 116 E.g. al-Nawbakhtì, Firaq al-shì'a, H. Ritter, ed., Istanbul, 1931, 63; Ràzì, A'làm al-nubuwwa, 6.19, 7.2; Sijistànì, Ithbàt, 177 f.

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the 'ibàdàt in mind. It was the worship of God through physical movements and actions that they found onerous, not the laws of marriage, divorce, inheritance, murder or theft,117 though the Mahdi would do away with them too (or most of them) when history came to an end.118 But the entire law had to stay in place until he came, and by al-Tha'àlibì’s time his coming was no longer imminent. Even by al-Nasafì’s time the sense of imminence must have been waning, for the Mahdi’s return had been predicted for the year 300/912–13, which had passed without incident.119 The very fact that the Ismailis took up philosophy with such enthusiasm suggests that they needed a new approach to their faith which de-emphasized eschatology. The great collective transformation had been postponed. The law remained in place for purposes of social control, and the masses had to obey it; but there could still be individual liberation for members of the spiritual elite who had achieved full understanding of the higher truths that the law encoded. “A section of the philosophers and a group of the Bà†inìs claim that persons proficient in the sciences are not bound by any of the duties of servitude (waΩà"if al'ubùdiyya), apart from guiding people”, as al-'Àmirì (d. 381/992) observed, presumably in Khurasan.120 It is to this promise of individual liberation from the law that al-Tha'àlibì refers. He is undoubtedly right that it was a major attraction of Ismailism, not because it allowed the Ismailis to lose themselves in sensual pleasure, as he so predictably thinks, but rather because it enabled them to abandon the mundane sphere of physical worship, public morality and collective welfare subsumed by the law for spiritual adventure and individual perfection. When al-Jayhànì derides the jurists as bearers of filth, his point is precisely that their concept of religion is devoid of spirituality: what did excretion and menstruation have to do with the divine? Al-Tha'àlibì is perfectly right that the Ismailis enveloped their movement in a cloak of secrecy. They were secretive because their doctrine was radical and disclosing it was dangerous: all converts were sworn to secrecy before their initiation; nothing would be Compare Rasà"il ikhwàn al-ßafà, Beirut, 1957, v, 306 ff., on the tyranny of the five ˙ukkàm, of which the third is the law, again mostly ritual. 118 Al-Sijistànì held that some mu'àmalàt were in such conformity with reason that they could not be abrogated (Ithbàt, 178; Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 108). 119 Cf. below, note 136. 120 Kitàb al-I'làm fì manàqib al-Islàm, A.'A.-Ó. Ghuràb, ed., Cairo, 1967, 77 f. 117

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revealed to them until they had taken such an oath ('ahd, mìthàq).121 To all non-initiates, this showed that the doctrine must be positively evil. “Had it been a good thing, they would not have concealed it; it must certainly be directed against the religion of Islam”, as they said in North Africa.122 Al-Tha'àlibì reacts in the same way. Why were the Ismailis secretive even when they had official backing? Nù˙ commanded the obedience of the elite and the masses alike, and there was nobody above him (apart from God, who would approve if their doctrine was true), so there was no reason why they should not proclaim their doctrine openly. “A veil conceals abominations; you will not find anything veiling the good”, Nù˙ concludes in the words of a pagan poet. Al-Tha'àlibì’s only problem here is that the Ismailis do seem to have relaxed their precautionary measures under official patronage, for the missionary Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì engaged in a public disputation with the arch-heretical philosopher Abù Bakr al-Ràzì under the auspices of Mardàwìj (or an earlier governor) in Rayy,123 and both Ibn al-Nadìm and NiΩàm al-Mulk associate the Ismailis with public disputations at the Samanid court, as we have seen. It is presumably because he wants to stress their secretive nature that al-Tha'àlibì denies that a public disputation took place.124 (b) Autonomous or subservient to the Fatimids? Numerous sources inform us that the Ismaili mission in Khurasan was founded by the Fatimids after their rise in North Africa in 297/ 909. All ultimately go back to the Kufan Ibn Rizàm (written before 345/956–57) and they identify the first missionary to Khurasan as Abù 'Abdallàh al-Khàdim. According to Ibn al-Dawàdàrì (who used Ibn Rizàm in the recension of the Sharìf Akhù Mu˙sin), this man was a servant of 'Ubaydallàh al-Mahdì in North Africa.125 He was succeeded in 307/919–20 by Abù Sa'ìd al-Sha'rànì who had also been sent by 'Ubaydallàh al-Mahdì according to Ibn al-Nadìm (who

121 H. Halm, ‘The Isma'ili oath of allegiance ('ahd) and the “sessions of wisdom” (majàlis al-˙ikma) in Fatimid times’, in F. Daftary, ed., Mediaeval Isma'ili History and Thought, Cambridge, 1996, 91 f. 122 Halm, ‘Isma'ili oath’, 92, citing al-Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn, Iftità˙ al-da'wa, W. alQà∂ì, ed., Beirut, 1970, 76. 123 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 202; cf. below, note 137. 124 Cf. above, note 50. 125 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 216, citing al-Maqrìzì; Ibn al-Dawàdàrì, Kanz, vi, 95.

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used Ibn Rizàm directly), though Ibn al-Dawàdàrì seems to disagree. According to him, al-Sha'rànì was a convert of Abù 'Abdallàh alKhàdim’s, presumably meaning that he was a local man. In any case, al-Sha'rànì was killed between 321/933 and 327/938–39, and his successor was al-Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Marwazì, who in turn was succeeded by al-Nasafì.126 We are clearly to take it that all four missionaries were agents of the Fatimids, and we are told so again when al-Nasafì undertakes to send the dinars struck by Naßr to al-Qà"im, the second Fatimid caliph.127 But there seems to be something wrong here. Why should the mission in Khurasan have been founded so late?128 The ˙ujjas in Salamiyya sent missionaries to Iraq, Ba˙rayn, western Iran and India from the 260s/870s onwards, and one would have expected them to do so to Khurasan as well. It is moreover hard to see how alNasafì can have worked for the Fatimids when his doctrine was of the pre-Fatimid type that left no room for them.129 Let us try again. The mission in Khurasan probably started well before the rise of the Fatimids in North Africa. For one thing, al-Nasafì wrote his Kitàb al-Ma˙ßùl early enough for it to be refuted by Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì, who became a missionary in c. 300/912 and died in 322/934–35.130 For another thing, eastern heresiographers know of a preacher by the name of A˙mad (b.) al-Kayyàl, who came from Nishapur and who was already active in 295/907–8.131 According to al-Shahrastànì, this man had started as a missionary on behalf of a member of the

126 Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, 239 = i, 467; Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 216–219, 224; Ibn al-Dawàdàrì, Kanz, vi, 95. Ibn al-Nadìm gives al-Sha'rànì’s year of arrival as 87 in one manuscript, as 37 in another. Dodge understands 87 as 287; Stern corrects 37 to 307. Since al-Sha'rànì followed a man sent from Fatimid North Africa (founded 297), Dodge cannot be right. Arrival in 287 would also make him implausibly longlived. 127 Thus Ibn al-Nadìm (above, note 23). Compare 'Abd al-Jabbàr, Tathbìt dalà"il al-nubuwwa, 'A.-K. 'Uthmàn, ed., Beirut, 1966, ii, 599, where al-Nasafì is working on behalf of 'Ubaydallàh. 128 This rightly puzzled Stern, but he could not think of any evidence to the contrary (‘Missionaries’, 216 f.). 129 Cf. Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 102–106 and note 366, where Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì is the first to accept the Fatimids and the conflict with Ibn Rizàm’s story is noted. Daftary also presents Khurasani doctrine as pre-Fatimid, but nonetheless retains Ibn Rizàm’s story (Isma'ìlìs, 122, 167 f.); and Halm cautiously accepts the story on the grounds that it cannot be disproved (Reich, 261). 130 Cf. Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 102 and note 319 thereto. Abù Óàtim’s dates are given in Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 190, 204. 131 Abu al-Ma'àlì, Bayàn al-adyàn, H. Ri∂à, ed., Tehran, 1964, 67.

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Prophet’s family after Ja'far al-Íàdiq, “I think one of the hidden imams” (i.e. the ˙ujjas in Salamiyya), who had disowned him for his heresy.132 One wonders if there is not a recollection here of a missionary who broke with Salamiyya when 'Ubaydallàh al-Mahdì changed the doctrine in preparation for his rise to power.133 The missionaries in southern Iraq, Ba˙rayn and Yemen who broke with 'Ubaydallàh, proceeded to prepare for the coming of the Mahdi on their own, and al-Kayyàl seems to have done the same, for he is said to have presented himself as the imam and qà"im under whom the spiritual would prevail over the corporeal and the law would be abrogated. Unlike the Ismailis of Iraq and Arabia, however, he did not abrogate the sharì'a by engaging in ceremonious violation of it, but rather by composing a new Qur"àn in Persian, much as the Kutàma dissidents composed a scripture in Berber when they broke with 'Ubaydallàh and raised up a Mahdi of their own in North Africa in 298/911. As an autonomous preacher, al-Kayyàl was a Gnostic who left behind books in Arabic and Persian and who was patronized by a Jayhànì, probably the first.134 If this is accepted, the mission established by 'Ubaydallàh will have been a new one aimed at the recovery of the Khurasani constituency lost in the great schism caused by 'Ubaydallàh himself. This will be why it was founded so late. There is in any case no doubt that Ibn Rizàm is mistaken when he attaches al-Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Marwazì and al-Nasafì to this mission. The Fatimid mission had its centre in Nishapur, where Abù 'Abdallàh al-Khàdim and Abù Sa'ìd al-Sha'rànì resided. The movement led by al-Óusayn b. 'Alì and al-Nasafì had its headquarters in Marwarrùdh, where al-Óusayn resided and where Ibn Sawàda was left as al-Nasafì’s deputy according to NiΩàm al-Mulk;135 and the 132

Shahrastànì, Milal, 138 (I, 181) = I, 526; cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Kayyàl’ (Madelung). Cf. Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 65–86. 134 Shahrastànì, Milal, 138–141 (I, 181–184) = I, 526–530; Abu al-Ma'àlì, Bayàn, 67–69, who gives the vizier’s ism as Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad, thus making him al-Jayhànì II. In view of his dates, Madelung is undoubtedly right that al-Jayhànì I is meant (EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Kayyàl’); cf. above, section II(d), no. 14. For the Berbers, see Ibn 'Idhàrì, Kitàb al-Bayàn al-mughrib, G.S. Colin and E. Levi-Provençal, ed., Leiden, 1948–51, I, 166 f.; also Kitàb al-'Uyùn wa’l-˙adà"iq, iv, 'U. al-Sa'ìdì, ed., Damascus, 1972–3, 162; Ibn ¸àfir, Akhbàr al-duwal al-munqa†i'a, A. Ferré, ed., Cairo, 1972, 10; Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 41/B 53. According to Nu'màn, Iftità˙, 273, the Kutàma did violate the law, but the charges are too stereotyped to convince. 135 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 218 f., 229. Daftary infers that the seat of the Fatimid mission was moved (Ismà'ìlìs, 122). 133

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    

mission at Marwarrùdh was an offshoot of Rayy, not of Nishapur. Al-Óusayn b. 'Alì had been converted by a missionary from Rayy by the name of Ghiyàth, who was active before 300/912–13.136 AlÓusayn’s brother, A˙mad b. 'Alì, was converted by Abù Óàtim alRàzì at Rayy between 307/919–20 and 311/924, when he was governor there.137 We do not know who converted al-Nasafì, but he was a close associate of al-Óusayn b. 'Alì and his deputy was Ibn Sawàda, who had started his career as a missionary at Rayy.138 Further, Ibn Rizàm’s chronology goes against him. Abù Sa'ìd alSha'rànì was killed between 321 and 327, when al-Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Marwazì supposedly took over, to be succeeded by al-Nasafì in his turn. But this does not leave much time for al-Nasafì to go off to Transoxania and convert the Samanid elite before the anti-Ismaili reaction of 330. In any case, al-Óusayn was probably dead by the time al-Sha'rànì’s position became vacant, for he was already a general of major importance in 287, when he governed Herat for the Samanids,139 and the story of how he died in jail is based on events of 306 and 307.140 His brother A˙mad b. 'Alì fell in battle in 311;141 another brother, Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì (known as Íu'lùk), died in 316.142 Finally, it is noteworthy that all three brothers were generals and governors (above all of Rayy), not the sort of people who normally became chief missionaries. It seems unlikely that al-Óusayn b. 'Alì should have been a missionary in the conventional sense at all, as opposed to a staunch supporter of the cause and protector of major importance at a time when the mission had been thrown into disarray by the break with Salamiyya.

136 NiΩam al-Mulk, Siyar, 284 f. = 216 (ch. 46, #3–4); Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 196. He disappeared when the Mahdi failed to come at the time foretold, presumably meaning the year 300 (cf. 'Abd al-Jabbàr, Tathbìt, 381, in connection with the Ismailis of Ba˙rayn). 137 NiΩàm al-Mulk, Siyar, 286 = 216 f. (ch. 46, #5); Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 196. It may have been under this man rather than Mardàwìj that Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì had his famous disputation with the philosopher Abù Bakr al-Ràzì (cf. Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 202). 138 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 219, 228 (NiΩàm al-Mulk and Rashìd al-Dìn). 139 Faßì˙ A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Khwàfì, Mujmal-i fasì˙ì, M. Farrùkh, ed., i, Mashhad, 1344, 383; Isfizàrì, Raw∂at al-jannàt fì awßàf-i madìnat-i haràt, M.K. Imàm, ed., Tehran, 1338–1339, i, 384. 140 Cf. below, note 152. 141 Miskawayh, Tajàrib, I, 117 = iv, 131; Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 105/B 144. 142 Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 121f/B 166 f.

        

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In short, al-Óusayn, al-Nasafì and Ibn Sawàda preached Ismailism of the Ràzì type and worked independently of the Fatimids. The mission at Rayy had been founded before the establishment of the Fatimid dynasty and it remained faithful to the old doctrine when 'Ubaydallàh set about revising it: Ghiyàth prepared for the coming of the Mahdi in 300/912–13, three years after the appearance of 'Ubaydallàh al-Mahdì, to disappear when his prediction failed;143 Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì was also an old believer;144 and a coin struck in 343/954–55 by Wahsùdàn b. Mu˙ammad of the Musàfirid family, who had been converted by the mission in Rayy, has a list of the imams which ends with Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl.145 It is thus not surprising to find that al-Nasafì also affirmed the imamate of Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl, whose return he awaited.146 By contrast, 'Ubaydallàh alMahdì dismissed Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl as a mere cover name for a succession of imams culminating in himself. It was not until the reign of al-Mu'izz (341–65/952–74) that the Fatimids began to reinstate Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl as a real person, without accepting that he would return.147 By then the Iranian Ismailis seem to have been eager for compromise, for Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì recognized the Fatimids in the qualified sense that he accepted them as deputies (khulafà") of Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl, the awaited Mahdi and qà"im; he did not regard them as imams in their own right.148 This doctrine also had adherents in India, where a missionary was advised by al-Mu'izz that it was wrong.149 The Fatimids saw themselves (and their ancestors in Salamiyya) as imams in an unbroken line of succession from 'Alì to whoever would prove to be the last of them, and thus the Mahdi. The Ismailis of Khurasan did eventually come 143

See the references given above, note 136. Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 103–106. 145 Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 210–216. 146 Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 103. 147 Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 70 f., 88 f. 148 Sijistànì, Ithbàt, 4, 186; id., The Wellsprings of Wisdom (Kitàb al-Yanàbi' ), P.E. Walker, tr., Salt Lake City, 1994, ##30, 144, with Walker’s commentary at p. 131 (there would be seven such deputies); id., ‘Risàlat tu˙fat al-mustajìbìn’, in Khams rasà"il ismà'ìliyya, 'A. Tàmir, ed., Salamiyya, 1956, 153.3 (several times seven). Abù Ya'qùb probably did not acknowledge the Fatimids at all at the beginning of his career (Madelung, ‘Imamat’, note 366). 149 Stern, ‘Heterodox Ismà'ìlism in the Time of al-Mu'izz’, in his Studies, especially 259–261, 269 f. (Reprinted with new pagination from the Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 17, 1955); Madelung, ‘Imamat’, 110 f. Stern assumes Wahsùdàn to have professed such a doctrine (‘Missionaries’, 215). 144

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to accept this view. It was to “the missionary of the Egyptians” that Ibn Sìnà (d. 428/1037) described his father as having responded,150 and it was also to Fatimid Egypt that Nàßir al-Dìn Khusraw (d. after 465/1072–73) gave his allegiance. Al-Tha'àlibì’s account is valuable for confirming that the Ismailis of al-Nasafì’s Khurasan were autonomous. Like Ibn al-Nadìm, he claims that Naßr paid a large sum of money to al-Nasafì, in gold coins of enormous weight specially struck for the occasion. This is perfectly plausible, though no such coins have actually been found (the Ismaili interlude is not reflected in the Samanid coinage at all),151 for commemorative coins of extra value were struck on other occasions, and it stands to reason that Naßr should have contributed financially to the cause. (That he should have paid the sum as blood money, as Ibn al-Nadìm claims, is implausible, not least because alÓusayn b. 'Alì does not seem to have died in prison.)152 The point to note here is that al-Tha'àlibì does not present the money as earmarked for the Fatimid caliph. According to him, it was meant for “the lord of the diocese, who was the imam of that mission in their view (ßà˙ib al-jazìra wa-huwa 'indahum imàm tilka al-da'wa)”. The Ismailis divided the world into twelve areas of missionary activity, each known as a jazìra (island), and they would speak of the leader of such an area as ßà˙ib al-jazìra; the Ismailis of Khurasan constituted such a jazìra under a leader of their own.153 Al-Tha'àlibì wrongly claims 150

Gohlman, Life of Ibn Sina, 18 = 19. Naßr struck gold and silver coins in Shàsh, Samarqand, Balkh, Nishapur, Àmul, Qumm, Qazwìn and other mints in the period 330–31/941–43: all bear the name of the caliph al-Muttaqì (see for example S. Lane Poole, The Coins of the Mohammadan Dynasties in the British Museum, ii, London 1876, no. 346 (Shàsh 330); S.M. Stern, ‘The Coins of Àmul’, Numismatic Chronicle, 7th series, vii, 1967, no. 15 (Àmul 331). 152 He rebelled against Naßr II and was defeated by the general A˙mad b. Sahl, who sent him to jail in Bukhàrà in 306; he was freed by the vizier Abù 'Abdallàh al-Jayhànì (thus Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 65f/B 87f; cf. Stern, ‘Missionaries’, 218), or by the future vizier Bal'amì (thus Tha'àlibì, Yatìma, iv, 81). Barthold assumes that he was jailed again on a later occasion (Turkestan, 254n). But it seems more likely that the story rests on confusion with the fate of his captor, A˙mad b. Sahl, who rebelled himself and died in jail in Bukhàrà in 307 (Ibn al-Athìr, Kàmil, viii, 89/B 120). 153 That the Ismailis divided the world into twelve jazìras was known already to Nawbakhtì, Firaq, 63 (written before 286/899). Khurasan appears as a jazìra in Ibn Óawqal (350s/960s) and Nàßir-i Khusraw (F. Daftary, ‘The Ismaili Da'wa outside the Fatimid Dawla’ in L’Égypte Fatimide, son art et son histoire, M. Barrucand, ed., Paris 1999, 37). For an early attestation of the term ßà˙ib al-jazìra, see Ja'far b. Manßùr al-Yaman, Sarà"ir wa-asràr al-nu†aqà", M. Ghàlib, ed., Beirut, 1984, 251.8. 151

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that this leader was the imam “in their view”, presumably meaning in their view as opposed to ours, or perhaps in their view as opposed to that of the Fatimid Ismailis. Either way, his statement makes it clear that the Ismailis of al-Nasafì’s Khurasan did not recognize any leader outside Khurasan. Their highest authority was their ßà˙ib al-jazìra, or in other words al-Nasafì himself. Al-Nasafì and Ibn Sawàda presumably kept the dinars struck by Naßr II because their imam and Mahdi, Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl, was still in hiding. They were administering the money on his behalf. There was nowhere to send it.


A TREATISE ON THE IMAMATE OF THE FATIMID CALIPH AL-MANÍÙR BI-ALLÀH Wilferd Madelung (Oxford)

In the chronicles of the Fatimid dynasty, al-Manßùr bi-Allàh Ismà'ìl, the third caliph (334–41/946–53) of the ruling dynasty, appears primarily as the glorious victor over the apocalyptic ‘Deceiver’ (dajjàl ), the Khariji rebel Abù Yazìd, and as the restorer of the Fatimid reign in the Maghrib after its near collapse. Since he died only four years after the final suppression of the rebellion, at the age of forty, it was his son and successor al-Mu'izz li-Dìn Allàh who reaped most of the benefits of the restoration. During his much longer reign (341–65/ 953–75), al-Mu'izz was able to pursue truly imperial designs culminating in the conquest of Egypt and the transfer of the Fatimid capital to the newly founded Cairo. Al-Manßùr was faced, in the few years of his reign left after his military triumph, with the need to gain the loyal allegiance of his Sunni, mostly Màlikì subjects, many of whom had for a time sided with the Khariji rebel. He did so by making substantial concessions to the Màlikì 'ulamà", who under the first two Fatimid caliphs had been completely excluded from the administration of justice and been prohibited from teaching their school doctrine of the religious law in public. Al-Manßùr now appointed a Màlikì judge in al-Qayrawàn, the old religious capital, while nominating the Ismaili Abù Óanìfa al-Nu'màn judge of his new residential town al-Manßùriyya and chief judge of the whole Fatimid realm. Official jurisdiction was in effect communally split, Màlikì Sunni law prevailing in the predominantly Sunni towns and Ismaili Shiite law being applied to Ismailis throughout Fatimid territories.1 The recognition of Sunni Islam as a legitimate religious and legal community by al-Manßùr was a momentous development in Islamic government. It remained a characteristic aspect of the Fatimid state 1 See W. Madelung, ‘The religious policy of the Fatimids toward their Sunnì subjects in the Maghrib’, in M. Barrucand, ed., L’Egypte Fatimide; son art et son histoire, Paris, 1999, 97–104.

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until its overthrow. Islamic government had, ever since its origins, recognized legitimate religious communities which were allowed a degree of legal autonomy. Especially the Qur"ànic ‘Peoples of the Book’, Jews and Christians, enjoyed such a status, which was then extended to other non-Muslim communities. Within Islam, no separate communities were officially sanctioned. Serious religious dissent was viewed as bid'a, heresy, or apostasy, to be stamped out or suppressed. Prevented from expressing and propagating their beliefs in public, the dissenters were forced underground, to teach clandestinely in private and to practise precautionary dissimulation, taqiyya. This was the situation of the Màlikì 'ulamà" under the reign of the first two Fatimid caliphs, as it had been the situation of the Shiites under the previous Sunni regime. Al-Manßùr’s recognition of the Sunnis as a legitimate community initially strengthened Fatimid authority. Sunni sources describe him and his reign with some admiration and even praise, in marked contrast to their extreme hostility to most of the Fatimid caliphs. However, his policy of tolerance towards his Sunni subjects was not reciprocated by Sunni rulers at the time or after the decline of the Fatimid caliphate. When Sunni government was restored in the Maghrib by the Zirids, the Ismaili minority was massacred by the populace incited by the Màlikì 'ulamà". In Egypt the Ismaili community did not fare much better after the restoration of Sunni government by the Ayyùbid Saladin. Recognition of the Sunnis as a legitimate community did not imply recognition as true believers. Jewish and Christian dhimmìs belonged to recognised legitimate communities but, by their rejection of the Prophet Mu˙ammad, were unbelievers (kuffàr). Similarly, Sunnis, by their affirmation of the prophethood of Mu˙ammad, were Muslims, but by their failure to recognise the rightful imam, were not believers (mu"minùn). Non-recognition of the Proof (˙ujja) of God, the rightful imam, was, according to a statement of 'Alì quoted by Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn in his Da'à"im al-Islàm, the lowest degree of errancy (∂alàl ).2 Al-Manßùr took his obligation as imam to provide religious guidance to the faithful seriously. He issued a book on religious law which was probably the first official Fatimid legal code. Superseded

2 Abù Óanìfa al-Nù'màn b. Mu˙ammad, Da'à"im al-Islàm, A.A.A. Fyzee, ed., Cairo, 1951, i, 13.

      -ßù -à

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under al-Mu'izz by Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn’s Da'à"im al-Islàm, it seems to have been lost at an early date. Quotations from it, however, are contained in a partly preserved Kitàb al-Yanbù', a legal compendium itself probably dating from the reign of al-Manßùr or the early reign of al-Mu'izz.3 Al-Manßùr’s work is cited there simply as the Kitàb alImàm al-Manßùr bi-Allàh. Al-Manßùr seems to have set forth his rulings without referring to the pronouncements of any former imams or justifying them by legal reasoning, solely relying on his own authority as the infallible imam. The divinely sanctioned authority of the imam in religious and legal matters was unambiguously upheld by al-Manßùr in another work which is extant in manuscript but has not yet been examined by modern students of Fatimid history. A manuscript of this book, entitled Tathbìt al-imàma, is now accessible in the library of the Institute of Ismaili Studies in London.4 The date of composition of it is not known. It must, however, express the position of al-Manßùr in the debate about religious and political authority during his restoration of the Fatimid caliphate after the defeat of the great rebellion. Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn refers to a book on the imamate ( fì ’l-imàma) by alManßùr in his Da'à"im al-Islàm.5 It is safe to assume that the same work is meant. Unlike al-Manßùr’s legal compendium it evidently remained authoritative under his successor al-Mu'izz. The book is addressed to an unnamed questioner, evidently a follower, who asked the author about the establishment of proof for the imamate of the Commander of the Faithful 'Alì b. Abì ˇàlib and his title to it. Al-Manßùr promises to provide cogent proof and asks the questioner to rely on it in rational investigation before looking 3 The Kitàb al-Yanbù' is commonly ascribed to Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn. The reliability of this ascription has been questioned by W. Ivanow, A.A.A. Fyzee and T.S. Lokhandwalla in view of the contrast in style, contents and arrangement between it and Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn’s authentic legal works. See I.K. Poonawala, Biobibliography of Ismà'ìlì literature, Malibu, 1977, 54; A.A.A. Fyzee, Compendium of Fatimid Law, Simla, 1969, xxvii–xxix; S.T. Lokhandwalla, The Origins of Ismaili Law, D.Phil. thesis Oxford, 1951, 36–39. The Kitàb al-Yanbù' is not mentioned in Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn’s other works. A manuscript of the extant second part of it is available at the Institute of Ismaili Studies in London. See A. Gacek, Catalogue of Arabic Manuscripts in the Library of the Institute of Ismaili Studies, i, London, 1984, 52. 4 MS 1120 of the Zàhid 'Alì collection. The manuscript contains 123 folios. The quality of the text varies. Large sections are well preserved while some appear badly corrupted. Other manuscripts of the book are in private collections. Poonawala, Biobibliography, 45. 5 Da'à"im, i, 48.

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into the historical reports (riwàyàt) of the various parties who affirm the inevitable need of the people for an imam. Throughout his discussion, it is evident that al-Manßùr, in agreement with the general Shiite position, saw the imamate as a primary necessity of reason. The reports about its institution thus had to be interpreted in the light of this rational necessity. The discussion continues in the form of questions to be addressed to the opponents and answers to their claims and questions. The anonymous opponents are primarily the Sunni 'ulamà" who uphold the legitimacy of the imamate of Abù Bakr and 'Umar and the validity of the historical Umayyad and Abbasid caliphate. The questions and answers no doubt closely reflect the arguments employed in the contemporary disputations about the imamate between supporters of the Fatimid caliphate and the mostly Màlikì Sunni scholars. The opponents agreed on the essential need of mankind for an imam, but evidently did not consider the imamate as a prime obligation ( farì∂a) imposed by God. Al-Manßùr’s first question to them is designed to bring this out. They are to be asked whether the need for the imam is something they have decided by their own opinion or a religious obligation laid down by God. If they answer that it is a religious obligation and that Abù Bakr was the one named (manßùß) by God, they were contradicted by Abù Bakr himself when he initially proposed Abù 'Ubayda b. al-Jarrà˙ and 'Umar b. alKha††àb as satisfactory choices for the position, when he appealed to the Muslims: “Relieve me, relieve me” (aqìlùnì aqìlùnì ), and when he said: “Would that I had asked the Messenger of God to whom the rule belonged after him.” Abù Bakr had further stated: “Surely, the Muslims have made me the deputy (of the Prophet, istakhlafùnì ) and were satisfied with me”, and he took his daily wage of two dirhams from the treasury (bayt màl ) of the Muslims. Likewise 'Umar contradicted them when he told the Muslims: “If I leave you (without appointing my successor), then someone better then myself (meaning the Prophet) has left you; but if I appoint a successor, someone better than myself (meaning Abù Bakr) has appointed his successor.” These and other reported statements, al-Manßùr argues, confirm that the early Muslims, including Abù Bakr and 'Umar, did not claim that Abù Bakr was named by God or the Prophet. If the opponents, however, acted on their own opinion in setting up Abù Bakr as the imam, how could they presume that God would not take care of the supreme need of His creation and that they were more considerate of the requirements of the community than God and His Messenger?

      -ßù -à

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In al-Manßùr’s view, the imamate is the “greatest religious obligation ( far∂ akbar) without which mankind cannot function and act righteously”. Other basic religious obligations depend on it, such as the ritual prayer, legal alms, the pilgrimage to Mecca, jihad, and legal punishments (˙udùd ). How could it be that God would not provide for it and would leave it to the Muslim community to choose their imam? Taking the place of the Prophet, the imam must be personally nominated by God and the Prophet. How could Abù Bakr permit himself to be called the ‘deputy (khalìfa) of the Messenger of God’ when he, as he admitted, was not appointed by the Prophet as his successor? Al-Manßùr highlights the practical difficulties in establishing an imam if he, in accordance with Sunni belief, is not named by God. If he is to be established by election (ikhtiyàr), who are the electors and who is obliged to accept their choice? Is a certain town privileged to make the choice which then becomes binding for the rest of the Muslim world? What is the number of electors needed to make the election legitimate? No number, even or uneven, seems naturally preferable, and one may end up admitting that the choice of a single Muslim is binding for the whole community.6 If there is disagreement among the electors about the choice, how is it to be resolved? Nominated by God and the Prophet, the imam must be the most excellent ( fà∂il ) among his contemporaries. Just like the Prophet, he is God’s Proof and Argument (˙ujja) in relation to mankind in his time. God cannot permit in His religion that the excellent be ruled by the less excellent (maf∂ùl ). Al-Manßùr argues at length against the view that the imamate of the less excellent is legitimate and that the imam, if his knowledge of the religious law is deficient, may rely on those who know it better. Abù Bakr could not be the most excellent among his contemporaries. He had himself told the Muslims: “I have come to govern you, yet I am not the best of you.” His knowledge of the Qur"àn was deficient, and the Companions, first among them 'Umar, had opposed some of his rulings in the religious law. The Muslims thus could not rely on the soundness of his pronouncements, but had to choose between the opinions of Abù Bakr and 'Umar and others. 6 The opinion that a single elector was sufficient to make the choice of the imam binding for the community was upheld by al-Ash'arì. See D. Gimaret, La Doctrine d’al Ash'arì, Paris 1990, 557.

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Yet the Qur"àn ordered them to refer their differences to God, His Messenger, and those in authority (ùlì al-amr) among them (IV:83) and to obey them (IV:59). ‘Those in authority’, al-Manßùr affirms, are none other than the rightful imams. In the absence of an authoritative imam, the opponents employed personal opinion, analogy, ijtihàd, discretionary preference (isti˙sàn), approximation (taqrìb), and conjecture to derive the law and admitted the legitimacy of difference of opinion in it. Al-Manßùr categorically rejects all these methods as in conflict with the Qur"ànic command: “Whoever does not judge according to what God has sent down, those are the wrong-doers” (V:45). The Prophet did not use them and did not permit them to be used. The famous hadith adduced by the opponents to justify their practice, according to which the Prophet approved Mu'àdh b. Jabal’s use of personal reasoning in his legal judgements if he could not find the appropriate law in the Qur"àn or the sunna of the Prophet, must be considered unsound or be interpreted so as to exclude such illicit legislation. As the Qur"àn stated, God’s religion, Islam, was complete and perfect (V:3) before the Prophet’s death. There was no need to add to the Qur"àn and the sunna of the Prophet. The only permanent need was for a just imam who had perfect knowledge of the religious law. Mu˙ammad thus could not have been recommending Abù Bakr for the succession when he ordered him to lead the prayers during his final illness, as claimed by many of the opponents. Rather the Prophet gave instructions for the army assembled under the command of his freedman Usàma b. Zayd, which included Abù Bakr and 'Umar, to proceed with their campaign. Do the opponents claim that the Prophet did not know that God would put an end to his life and that the community was in need of Abù Bakr after his death? Abù Bakr and his supporters acted in disobedience to the Prophet’s order when they failed to proceed and instead set up Abù Bakr as the imam. The sentence of the Qur"àn applied to them: “Whoever disobeys God and His Messenger, surely hellfire is his lot, to dwell therein forever” (LXXII:23). 'Alì was appointed by the Prophet as the imam to succeed him at Ghadìr Khumm. The hadith about Mu˙ammad’s pronouncement there in his cousin’s favour is broadly transmitted and cannot be rejected. The opponents vainly seek to negate its clear meaning by false interpretation. 'Alì’s exclusive title to the imamate in succession to the Prophet was, however, also evident from the fact that

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only he fulfilled all the relevant qualifications of excellence. Adopting a common Shiite argument, al-Manßùr maintains that there was a consensus of all groups of Muslims in respect to the other Companions that each one of them was excelled in one or the other qualification. There was no such negative consensus in respect to 'Alì since one group, the Shia, held that he excelled in all qualifications. Among these qualifications, perfect knowledge of the religious law is discussed by al-Manßùr at greatest length and was evidently most important in his view. He notes much more briefly that the imam must also excel in piety (wara' ) and courage (shajà'a). Aside from the qualification of excellence, al-Manßùr discusses the condition of close kinship (qaràba) for the rightful imam with his predecessor. He notes that this condition does not require the successor to be the closest kin or the son. He may be the brother, cousin, or nephew, anyone considered a close kinsman (qarìb) in ordinary speech. The requirement that the imam must be the most excellent has precedence over the closest kinship. Al-Manßùr here ignores the standard Imami Shiite rule that after the succession of the two grandsons of Mu˙ammad, al-Óasan and al-Óusayn, the imamate could only be handed down from father to son among the descendants of al-Óusayn. His position may well take account of the early Fatimid version of the pre-history of the dynasty according to which the first Fatimid caliph, al-Mahdì, had been named by his uncle Mu˙ammad.7 Al-Manßùr’s Ismaili perspective is also apparent in his extending the concept of the imamate to the ages before the mission of Mu˙ammad. Imami Shiite theory generally viewed the age of the imamate as beginning only with 'Alì, since the age of prophethood preceding it had come to its end with Mu˙ammad. Al-Manßùr views the imamate as a permanent institution and maintains that Jesus had a legatee (waßì ) and successor from whom the legacy was handed down to a ˙ujja or imam in the time of Mu˙ammad. Although the name and identity of this imam are not known, he must have pronounced the divine appointment (naßß) of Mu˙ammad, since every imam names his successor, summoning mankind to him. Al-Manßùr admits that the requirement of close kinship of the successor may have been less stringent before Mu˙ammad than it is now. 7 See W. Madelung, ‘Das Imamat in der frühen ismailitischen Lehre’ in Der Islam, 37, 1961, 55, 71. Al-Mu'izz seems to have been the first Fatimid caliph to insist that al-Mahdì’s father al-Óusayn was the true imam. Madelung, Das Imamat, 74–75.

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Since the imamate implements God’s government of this world, its basic nature can never change. Al-Manßùr sharply criticises the view of those opponents who hold that the early imamate in succession to Mu˙ammad was divinely sanctioned, whether based on nomination or election, while the later imamate lacked legitimacy and thus does not command unconditional obedience of the faithful. Presumably he had in mind here the common Sunni theory based on a well-known hadith that the true khilàfa of the Prophet had lasted only thirty years, during the reign of the Rightly-Guided caliphs and that the later caliphate was merely worldly kingship (mulk) acquired by usurpation. In their opinion, al-Manßùr questions these opponents, was God more considerate of mankind when He imposed on them the duty to obey the rightful imam or now that He has lifted that obligation from them? In reality their view inevitably leads to the conclusion that God has abandoned the government of this world and that disobedience to His orders and transgression of His laws now prevail. The rightful and just imam, al-Manßùr affirms, is owed unconditional obedience by all Muslims just as the Prophet was. Like the Prophet, he has perfect knowledge of the religious law and does not rely on judicial reasoning and analogy to derive it. As God’s chosen governor of mankind, he must be impeccable, protected from error and sin (ma'ßùm) by Him. His knowledge of the law necessarily being superior to that of all others, he could not be known through a consensus of the Muslims, since each sect or school of them would naturally prefer one of their own group. The imam must therefore be named by his predecessor. Al-Manßùr leaves the question open as to how the imams know their successors. It may be that the Prophet identified them by name to 'Alì or he may have instructed him as to how to choose the successor. In any case, the imam is protected by God from error in the choice of his successor. In spite of their being chosen by God and protected from error and sin, the imams are not equal to the Prophet. Unlike prophets, they do not receive divine revelation (wa˙y). The Prophet ranks above them in excellence (taf∂ìl ). Their religious knowledge is derived from that of the Prophet. No abrogation (naskh) can occur during their reign as it occurred in the age of the Prophet. Whatever miraculous foreknowledge of events 'Alì displayed during his imamate, it depended on information given him by Mu˙ammad, as he himself always stated. Al-Manßùr disassociates himself categorically from those who

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ascribed knowledge of the unseen ( ghayb) to 'Alì, or who claimed that 'Alì was a prophet or God, adding that he had never met anyone claiming that.8 Al-Manßùr’s treatise on the imamate stands distinctly in the tradition of radical Shiism. The absolute right of 'Alì to the succession to Mu˙ammad, and the illegitimacy of the caliphate of his predecessors are uncompromisingly upheld. Al-Manßùr denies claims of the opponents that 'Alì himself recognised the legitimacy of their caliphate, although he may have been compelled to do so in precautionary dissimulation (taqiyya). Most of the author’s arguments are familiar from earlier and contemporary Imami apologetic texts. Except for the minor instances noted, the treatise could be read as an Imami Shiite work. Its purpose was to provide arguments for the debates with the Sunni 'ulamà" on the rightful succession to Mu˙ammad, to refute their claims, and to affirm the divine right of the Fatimid caliphs to rule, not to explain esoteric Ismaili doctrine on the imamate. The imam is thus viewed as the divinely appointed enforcer of the religious law entitled to the obedience of all Muslims. There is no mention of the imam’s task of providing the esoteric interpretation (ta"wìl ) of the scripture and of the law brought by the Prophet, of the significance of the seventh imam and of Ismaili Mahdi expectations. Al-Manßùr rather emphasised that all religious knowledge and authority of the imams derived from the Prophet Mu˙ammad. This view of the imamate certainly reflects al-Manßùr’s priorities during his restoration of the Fatimid caliphate. Ja'far b. Manßùr alYaman, son of the distinguished dà'ì of the Yemen and expert in Ismaili esoteric thought, enjoyed some favour at his court and was encouraged to compose books on ta"wìl for the Ismaili da'wa. Like his grandfather al-Mahdì, however, al-Manßùr sought to limit the activity of the da'wa and to prevent it from spreading extremist claims, attributing supernatural qualities to the Fatimid caliphs which might scandalise their Sunni subjects. These must primarily be persuaded to recognise the divine right of the Fatimids to rule, not their authority to reach esoteric knowledge.

8 This closely agrees with Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn’s quotation of statements of al-Manßùr denouncing those who ascribed divinity or prophethood to him and the other imams. Da'à"im, i, 69–70.


THE IMPRISONMENT OF REYNALD OF CHÂTILLON Carole Hillenbrand* (Edinburgh)

I will set your captives free from the waterless pit (Zechariah, 9:11) Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage (Richard Lovelace in prison in 1642)

Introduction From the days of Schlumberger1 onwards the career of Reynald of Châtillon has received much scholarly attention and has excited strong emotions.2 His reputation has been almost exclusively negative; a range of epithets have been used by scholars over the years, nearly all of them exceedingly hostile—Marshall Baldwin speaks of his “crude bravado”3 and describes him as being “always intransigent and impatient of authority”.4 Ehrenkreutz calls him “notorious” and “an arrogant Raubritter”.5 In a recent television series followed up by a book on the Crusades, Terry Jones (of Monty Python fame) and his co-author Alan Ereira label Reynald a “manic aggressive”.6 Hamilton’s spirited defence of Reynald was, however, a timely corrective to the generally negative picture.7 * It is a great pleasure to make this contribution to the Festschrift in honour of Donald Richards, an exemplary scholar and teacher. 1 G. Schlumberger, Reynald de Châtillon Prince d’Antioche Seigneur de la Terre d’OutreJourdain, Paris, 1898. 2 For example, the views of Schlumberger’s contemporary, Max van Berchem, who, in his review of Schlumberger’s book, describes him as “a looter who embodied in marvellous fashion the greatnesses and weaknesses of the Crusades”; M. van Berchem, ‘Renaud de Châtillon’ in Opera Minora, Geneva, 1978, ii, 977. 3 M. Baldwin, Raymond III of Tripolis and the Fall of Jerusalem 1140–1187, Princeton, 1936, 45. 4 Baldwin, Raymond, 62. 5 A. Ehrenkreutz, Saladin, Albany, 1972, 144, 180. 6 T. Jones and A. Ereira, The Crusades, London, 1994, 150. 7 B. Hamilton, ‘The Elephant of Christ: Reynald of Châtillon’, in D. Baker, ed., Religious Motivation: Biographical and Sociological Problems for the Church Historian, Oxford, 1978, 97–108.

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This article will examine some aspects of Reynald’s career associated with his imprisonment in Aleppo; in particular it will look at the probable place of his imprisonment, the kind of treatment he may have received at the hand of his Muslim captors and the psychological effects of his long imprisonment.

A brief résumé of the career of Reynald of Châtillon The details of Reynald’s flamboyant career are well known8 and a brief overview will suffice to contextualise the themes chosen for discussion in this article. From the moment he set foot in the Holy Land at the time of the Second Crusade, Reynald was destined to create a splash. Probably handsome, and certainly a ‘ladies man’, he was to make two very advantageous marriages. The first was to Constance of Antioch who surprised everybody by electing to marry Reynald rather than any of a range of other suitors. This match— made in 1153—gave him the opportunity of ruling the Principality of Antioch.9 The Patriarch of Antioch was unwise enough to let his disapproval of this marriage become public knowledge: Reynald retaliated by visiting on him an ingenious punishment. According to William of Tyre:10 Reynald was moved to violent and inexorable wrath . . . He forced the aged priest . . . although an almost helpless invalid, to sit in the blazing sun throughout a summer’s day, his bare head smeared with honey.

Reynald’s next target was the Byzantine-held Christian island of Cyprus where he rampaged in 1156 causing untold harm and depredation. Gregory the Priest remarks that Reynald treated the inhabitants of Cyprus like infidels, raping and pillaging and cutting off the noses and ears of Greek clerics.11 Reynald’s performance when the Byzantine emperor Manuel came to Syria shortly thereafter borders

8 For a very recent summary of Reynald’s career before his captivity, see B. Hamilton, The Leper King and his Heirs, Cambridge, 2000, 104–105. 9 Hamilton, Leper King, 104. 10 William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, E.A. Babcock and A.C. Krey, tr., New York, 1943, ii, 235. 11 Matthew of Edessa, Parmut’iwn, E. Dulaurier, tr., as Chronique de Matthieu d’Edesse avec la Continuation de Grégoire le Prêtre jusqu’en 1162, Paris, 1858, 353.

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on the farcical.12 William of Tyre describes Reynald, “assailed by the sting of guilty conscience” appearing before the Byzantine emperor barefoot, with a rope around his neck and naked sword in his hand. He threw himself onto the ground where he lay prostrate “until the glory of the Latins was turned into shame”. William dryly comments: “He was a man of violent impulses, both in sinning and repenting”.13 Even Reynald’s mode of capture by the Muslims was typical of his unpredictability and lack of ideological focus. While campaigning in 1160 (or possibly 1161) in the area of Edessa, he was captured on a raid into Muslim territory to seize flocks in the Mar'ash region.14 According to Elisséeff, Reynald did not bother to find out whether the owners of the herds were Christian or Muslim. He saw them only as people easy to rob.15 He was taken by his captor, Majd al-Dìn Ibn al-Dàya, to Nùr al-Dìn at Aleppo.16 Elisséeff, Runciman and others remark that nobody hurried to pay the ransom of this turbulent prince—neither the barons of Antioch, nor the King of Jerusalem.17 Thereupon Reynald remained in captivity at Aleppo for 16 years. During his captivity Reynald’s wife, Constance of Antioch, died and the principality passed to his stepson, Bohemond III. After Reynald’s release from prison in 1176 for a ransom of 120,000 dinars he made his second advantageous marriage some time before June 1177.18 His bride on this occasion was Stephany of Milly, heiress to the lands beyond the Jordan. By this marriage he gained the valuable citadels of Kerak and Shawbak near the Dead Sea: these controlled the vital caravan route from Cairo to Damascus. Reynald’s most famous escapade, however, involves his extraordinary raid in 1182, which threatened the safety of the pilgrimage and indeed the Holy Cities themselves. No other Crusader prince in the

12

Jones and Ereira describe him as Toad of Toad Hall, Crusades, 154. William, History, ii, 277. 14 Matthew, Chronique, 363; Michael the Syrian, J.-B. Chabot, tr., as Chronique de Michel le Syrien, Paris, 1899–1914, 316; J. Richard, Histoire des Croisades, Paris, 1996, 189. 15 N. Elisséeff, Nur al-Din: un grand prince musulman de Syrie au temps des Croisades, Damascus, 1967, ii, 552. 16 Michael, Chronique, 319. 17 Elisséeff, Nur al-Din, ii, 553; S. Runciman, A History of the Crusades, Cambridge, 1951–54, ii, 357–358. 18 Hamilton, ‘Elephant’, 98, n. 13; Hamilton, Leper King, 104. 13

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whole history of Outremer tried to pull off a comparable feat. Reynald was one of the close counsellors to the King of Jerusalem, Guy de Lusignan, before the battle of Hattin in 1187; in its aftermath Reynald was seized and personally beheaded by Saladin. Reynald’s extraordinarily eventful life finished with a refusal to accept Islam.19 Saladin’s personal hatred of him is emphasised in the sources and Islamic tradition paints him as the worst of all the Crusader foes. So much for the generally accepted picture of his life and deeds. It is hard not to feel, however, that this bare chronicle of events creates a somewhat two-dimensional picture of Reynald as an unstable though perhaps glamorous swashbuckler. It emphatically does not explain what motivated him and it says almost nothing about what was in all probability the central and defining experience of his life, namely the 16 years in the prime of his manhood that he spent incarcerated in the grim citadel of Aleppo. This article will attempt to tease out some of the implications of this formative experience.

How long was Reynald in prison? The exact length of Reynald’s captivity remains disputed since there is an unresolved controversy over the year of his capture—1160 or 1161.20 There is little doubt, however, about the date of his release—

19

For a recent analysis of these events, see Hamilton, Leper King, 179–185. For a detailed discussion of this topic, see W. Stevenson, The Crusaders in the East, Cambridge, 1907, 83, n. 2; William, History, ii, 285, n. 82. Much hinges on the interpretation of the statement of William of Tyre that: “This disaster [Reynald’s capture] occurred on November 23 in the eighteenth year of King Baldwin’s reign”; William, History, ii, 284–285. Hamilton states that Reynald was imprisoned for 15 years and that he was captured in 1161; cf. Hamilton, Leper King, 104. Richard gives a date of 23 November 1161; Richard, Histoire, 189. Elisséeff states confidently that the exact date was 22 Dhu’l-Qa'da 555/23 November 1160—Nur al-Din, ii, 552. For the primary sources which mention the capture, see C. Cahen, La Syrie du Nord a l’époque des Croisades et la Principauté Franque d’Antioche, Paris, 1940, 405, n. 1. It is unfortunate that the major medieval Islamic chronicler, Ibn al-Athìr, usually reliable on dating, does not mention the seizing of Reynald in either of his two historical works; Ibn al-Athìr, al-Kàmil fì’l-ta"rìkh, C.J. Tornberg, ed., Leiden and Uppsala, 1851–76, and al-Ta"rikh al-bàhir fì’l-dawla al-atabàkiyya, A.A. Tulaymat, ed., Cairo, 1963. The town chronicler of Aleppo, Ibn al-'Adìm, writes that the capture of “Joscelin son of Joscelin” ( Joscelin III) took place in Rajab 555/July–August, 1160. Joscelin was brought to the citadel of Aleppo by Ibn al-Dàya, who had also captured “the second prince” and taken him and the others to Aleppo, Ibn al'Adim, Zubdat al-˙alab, S. Zakkar, ed., Damascus, 1997, ii, 488. 20

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1176. Whatever the exact truth, it is clear that he remained in captivity for an extremely long time, longer than any of his contemporaries. That could in itself be regarded as an achievement. In this discussion it seems sensible to opt for 1160.

Reflections on Reynald of Châtillon’s period in captivity There is little or no discussion in the sources about prisons and imprisonment in the medieval Islamic world.21 There is little information on the legal aspects of imprisonment, on the practicalities of daily life in a dungeon or on what determined whether a prisoner was allowed to live or was killed in captivity. Reynald was kept in captivity for an extremely long time—around 16 years. Surprisingly, although this fact is mentioned by all scholars who have written general histories of the Crusades and also those who have focused particularly on Reynald and his circle, they pass over it with insufficient comment. Baldwin says enigmatically, “Not even 16 years of captivity had broken his restless spirit”, but he does not elaborate.22 A number of questions present themselves on the issue of Reynald’s imprisonment. Where was he kept? How was he treated? Most importantly, what were the effects of this long period of confinement on him, both physically and psychologically? How did he survive? Survive, moreover, to fight again? The place of Reynald’s imprisonment It is generally accepted that Reynald was taken after his capture23 (probably on 23 November 1160) by Majd al-Dìn Ibn al-Dàya, the milk-brother of Nùr al-Dìn and his lieutenant at Aleppo, directly to

21 This point is made most forcibly by Irene Schneider: EI 2: s.v. ‘sidjn’. There is little information about how prisoners of war fared and what scattered information does exist is difficult to evaluate. Schneider comments that, besides imprisonment in a special prison building, house arrest or imprisonment in the citadel were possible options. 22 Baldwin, Raymond, 62. 23 For bibliographical information on Reynald’s capture and the relevant primary sources, in particular, Elisséeff, Nur al-Din, ii, 552.

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that city. Thereafter the sources fall silent on the details of his imprisonment except to say that it was in Aleppo that he remained.24 It is particularly disappointing that the local chronicler of Aleppo, Ibn al-'Adìm and the court historian of the Zengids, Ibn al-Athìr, shed no light on the exact place of Reynald’s imprisonment. Presumably, Ibn al-'Adìm would assume that his reader knew such details; Ibn al-Athìr (or his written sources) would not perhaps possess such information or might wish to gloss over this aspect of the career of Nùr al-Dìn. Keeping prisoners of war, especially important ones, in captivity was, after all, part of the political process and the conventions were well-known. Of course, the most likely location for Reynald’s prison, as for other high-ranking Crusader captives at Aleppo, would have been the citadel. Indeed, in the primary sources used by AnneMarie Eddé in her recent magisterial study of the Principality of Antioch in the Ayyùbid period, there are references to prisoners being held in the Aleppo citadel.25 Claverie points out that after the battle of La Fourbie in 1237 Frankish prisoners were transferred to Aleppo and put into the dungeons of the citadel.26 It is improbable that an enemy as dangerous as Reynald, although his major excesses so far had been committed against Christians rather than Muslims, would have been accorded especially favourable treatment by his Muslim captors in Aleppo. House arrest is not a very likely option, not least because of his turbulent, unpredictable character. He was not a king as St Louis was.27

24 When mentioning Reynald’s release from prison, Ibn al-'Adìm states briefly that Reynald had been in the citadel “from the days of Nùr al-Dìn”; Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubda, ii, 532. The same reticence is shown by other Muslim sources: Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt al-a'yàn, W.M. de Slane, tr., as Ibn Khallikan’s Biographical Dictionary, Paris, 1843–71, iv, 54; Ibn Shaddàd, al-Nawàdir al-sultàniyya. Recueil des Historiens des Croisades. Historiens orientaux, Paris, 1872–1906, iii, 63; Abù Shàma, Kitàb al-raw∂atayn, RHC, HO, iv–v, 188. Bar Hebraeus follows this line too: Bar Hebraeus, The Chronography of Gregory Abu al-Faraj, E.A.W. Budge, ed. and tr., London, 1932, 305. 25 A.-M. Eddé, La Principauté Ayyoubide d’Alep (579/1183–658/1260), Stuttgart, 1999, 62, 111. 26 P.-V. Claverie, ‘Le Statut des Templiers Capturés en Orient durant les Croisades’ in G. Cipollane, La Liberazione dei ‘Captivi’ tra Cristianità e Islam, Vatican City, 2000, 503. 27 In 648/1250–51 St Louis was kept in custody in the house of a high-ranking chancery official in Cairo. He was “put in chains and incarcerated in the house . . . in al-Manßùra”. He was given a daily allowance and had his brother with him. As for the ordinary rank and file prisoners, they were executed at the rate of between 300 and 400 a night. See al-Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-sulùk, R.J.C. Broadhurst, tr., as History of Ayyubids and Mamluks, Boston, 1980, 308–309.

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As regards the exact location of the dungeons in the pre-Mongol citadel of Aleppo, there is little useful information in the sources and it is not possible for archaeologists to help much here. Successive earthquakes in Syria during the twelfth century damaged monuments in Aleppo; during one such earthquake in 563/1170, according to Ibn al-'Adìm, Nùr al-Dìn “went to Aleppo and found its walls and bazaars had collapsed”.28 Moreover, the Mongols in 1260, followed later by Timur, carried out such a successful demolition of the citadel that surprisingly little of the Ayyùbid walls remains, as recent German survey work seems to suggest.29 Most probably, however, the cells for prisoners were situated beneath the citadel;30 they were deep holes gouged out of the rock, which could easily be watched over and policed night and day. There are in fact frequent references in the medieval Islamic sources to viziers, rebels, prisoners of war and other miscreants being imprisoned in the citadel of Aleppo. Indeed, there must have been a reasonably large space for them since sometimes there is mention of “groups of prisoners” being held there.31 An important clue to the probable location of the prison at Aleppo is provided by Ibn al-Shi˙na and cited by Eddé. According to Ibn al-Shi˙na, the Ayyùbid ruler, al-¸à˙ir, dug some holes in the talus below the walls on the city side of the citadel; from these he made cells for 20 or 30 prisoners.32 A similar strategy had probably been adopted in pre-Ayyùbid times.33

28 Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubda, ii, 502; for a more detailed discussion of these earthquakes, see below. 29 Recent archaeological investigations, carried out at the Aleppo citadel by a team of German specialists and as yet unpublished, have revealed the existence of rock-cut enclosures which may have served as dungeons. No firm date has been assigned to these but a twelfth-century dating seems possible. I am grateful to Dr Julia Gonella for this information. 30 A similar arrangement existed in Europe where prisoners were kept in a carcereal located under the lord’s chambers or in smaller residences; H. Kleinschmidt, Understanding the Middle Ages, Woodbridge, 2000, 274. 31 Eddé, Principauté, 277. 32 Ibn al-Shi˙na, Les perles choisies d’Ibn Ach-Chihna, J. Sauvaget, tr., Damascus, 1933; Eddé, Principauté, 294. 33 Detailed investigations of stone-dressing techniques can yield information about the provenance of the masons (e.g. the presence of Ionians in Achaemenid buildings in Fars is revealed by the marks left by their claw-toothed chisels). But such detailed studies of masonry techniques have yet to be carried out on a sufficiently large scale on the buildings of the medieval Near East. In the case of the Aleppo citadel, no such evidence is available (cf. Gonella’s work). Hanisch’s work on the Damascus citadel (Abbildung viii, 205) shows a separate structure, entered by a deep

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The tradition of imprisonment in a deep pit is a very ancient one in the Near East. Apart from the well-known example of Joseph, Jeremiah was “cast into the dungeon . . . that was in the court of the prison; and they let down Jeremiah with cords. And in the dungeon there was no water, but mire”. Ebed-melech then says to the King: “He ( Jeremiah) is like to die.” The King then orders thirty men to remove Jeremiah from the pit. The depth of the pit is suggested both by the number of men needed to lift him out without breaking his bones and by the use of old rags and worn-out clothes which Jeremiah has to put under his armpits to pad out the ropes.34 Similar references to pits ( jubb)35 are found in the medieval Islamic sources. The pit in which Ibn Taymiyya languished in Cairo was full of bats;36 there are references to the jubb in Khartpert37 and in the stories of The Thousand and One Nights.

The perception of prison in medieval Islamic thinking The usual word for prison/imprisonment in Arabic is sijn. It is interesting to note the deeply resonant tones the root s-j-n possesses in Arabic. Traditionally, medieval Islamic lexicographers have tended to give as a synonym for sijn the term sijjìn, one of the mysterious words in the Qur"àn. Sijjìn excites terror and has horrifying overtones associated with Hell and Satan.38

staircase, situated right by the north-west tower. He suggested to me orally that this building might well have been used as dungeons. (For a study of this tower, see H. Hanisch, ‘Der Nordwestturm der Zitadelle von Damaskus’, in Damaszene Mitteilungen, 5, 1991, 183–233.) No such self-standing structure seems to have been mentioned for the Aleppo citadel. 34 Jeremiah, 38: 6–12. 35 Jubb could denote a well but also came to mean a deep, dark dungeon or prison. Cf. R.P.A. Dozy, Supplément aux Dictionnaires Arabes, Leiden, 1881, i, 169. 36 Ibn Taymiyya, Lettre à un roi croisé, J. Michot, tr., Louvain, 1995, 73. 37 The Artuqid ruler Balak seized Baldwin of Antioch in 516/1122–23 or 517/1123–24 and imprisoned him in the pit ( jubb) of Khartpert with Joscelin; al'AΩìmì, ‘La chronique abregée d’al-'AΩìmì’, C. Cahen, ed., Journal Asiatique, 230, 1938, 391–392. 38 Commentators define sijjìn as a place where a record of the deeds of the wicked is kept, and also as the record itself. The term is also thought to denote hell-fire or the seventh and lowest earth where Iblìs is chained. In general, the semantic link with sijn seems to have been made (EI 2, s.v. ‘sidjdjìn’). Sajjàn denotes a jailer.

     

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Nay, but the record of the vile is in Sijjìn— Ah! What will convey unto thee what Sijjìn is! (Qur"àn 83: 7–8)

Ibn Khaldùn expresses popular views of prisons when he writes: People who go down into deep wells and dungeons perish when the air there becomes hot through putrefaction, and no winds enter these places to stir the air up.39

Who looked after prisons and prisoners? It is interesting to ask who would have borne the responsibility for Reynald’s custody and who would have looked after him on a daily basis. Was there in medieval Islamic times a special individual to whom was allocated the responsibility for looking after prisons and prisoners? Who was it, moreover, who was charged with the negotiations for the release of prisoners such as Reynald, and who would deal with the arrangements for the ransom? The evidence is patchy and no firm conclusions may be drawn from it. At a high level, it is likely that, under the influence of Seljuq institutions from further east, the military official known as the ˙àjib in Zengid and Ayyùbid times was responsible for the administering of justice and the administration of the citadel.40 Alternatively or additionally, the title amìr jàndàr also comes to mind. Such an official was attached to the royal household and carried out the sovereign’s orders for the death sentence. Under the Ayyùbids the amìr jàndàr was one of the highestranking officers of the state.41 Quatremère, quoting al-'Umarì, writes: If the sultan wants to torture or kill a man it is the amìr jàndàr who is charged with carrying out the sentence.42

When dealing with the Maghrib, Ibn Khaldùn refers to the office of mizwàr: this official was responsible, as commandant of the elite troops who served at the court of the ruler, for “enforcing the punishment

39

Ibn Khaldun, Muqaddima, F. Rosenthal, tr., New York, 1958, i, 74. The term ˙àjib covered a wide range of responsibilities in different places and times in the medieval Islamic world, see EI 2, s.v. ‘˙àdjib’. 41 EI 2, s.v. ‘djàndàr’. 42 For a comprehensive discussion of the term jàndàr see E. Quatremère, Histoire des Sultans Mamluks de l’Egypte, Paris, 1837–45, 14–15, n. 15. 40

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he [the ruler] metes out, executing the severe measures he takes, and guarding the inmates of his prisons”.43 It is likely that if prisoners were brought before the ruler there would have been an official responsible for this: such a person may possibly have been the naqìb al-jaysh or the naqìb al-'askar.44 It is not clear whether there was a distinction made between Muslim malefactors languishing in prison, Muslim officials awaiting torture to be mulcted of their ill-gotten wealth and Frankish or other Christian prisoners of war.45 Nor is it clear whether they were segregated.

How was Reynald treated by his Muslim captors? On initial capture, Reynald, like any other prisoner of war, was subjected to humiliation. From the outset of his time as a Muslim captive, Reynald’s pride was humbled. As William of Tyre puts it (with some licking of his lips): A captive, bound with the chains of the foe, he was led to Aleppo in most ignominious fashion, there to become, with his fellow captives, the sport of the infidels.46

Gregory the Priest also stresses that Reynald was subjected to humiliations by the man who ambushed him, Ibn al-Dàya.47 It was common practice at the time on both sides for prisoners to be chained, sometimes even to each other in pairs or in bigger groups. Muslim sources mention that the prisoners taken by Saladin in 1179 were transferred to Damascus, loaded down with chains;48 43

Ibn Khaldùn, Muqaddima, i, 17. Eddé, Principauté, 251. 45 Eddé (334) refers to a tax of six dirhams payable by prisoners. It is not clear what kind of prisoners, Muslim and/or others, are meant here. According to alMaqrìzì, there were special quarters for Crusader prisoners who had been captured in Syrian lands and taken to Cairo. He states that in the reign of al-Nàßir Mu˙ammad b. Qalà"ùn (ruled 693/1293–694/1294 and 698/1299–708/1309) such prisoners were housed in the khizànat al-bunùd, which adjoined the great citadel and “the prison there fell into disuse”, al-Maqrìzì, Al-Khi†a†, K. al-Mansur, ed., Beirut, 1998, ii, 318. 46 William, History, ii, 284. 47 Matthew, Chronique, 363. 48 Al-Maqrìzì, Sulùk, 60; Claverie, ‘Statut’, 502. 44

     

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among these captives were prestigious figures such as Baldwin II of Ibelin, Odo, the Grand Master of the Temple, and the son of the Countess of Tripoli.49 After the battle of Hattin, one Muslim man “was leading twenty Franks with a rope around their necks”.50 On arrival in Muslim cities, prisoners were often paraded in triumph through the streets to the sound of drums with broken and reversed standards. The heads of those Frankish soldiers killed on the battlefield would also be exhibited.51 Al-Maqrìzì records that in 642/1244–45 Frankish captives were put on camels, their leaders on horses, and they were thus paraded through the streets of Cairo.52 As his bravura performance before the Emperor Manuel had shown, Reynald was no stranger to drama. But his capture was no dress rehearsal. This was the real thing. For someone of Reynald’s arrogance, the humiliation of being made a public spectacle must have been especially galling. On arrival at Aleppo, if not before, those captives who were bearded may have been shaved before they were put away.53 This practice would differentiate clearly between Frankish captives and other prisoners. In a legal document of 1280 Ibn al-Mukarram suggests that such a procedure was adopted in Mamluk Cairo.54

How was Reynald treated in the Aleppo citadel? Fulcher of Chartres laments in high-flown terms the horrors experienced by Crusaders in Muslim captivity: Many captives were taken unjustly and were most barbarously cast into foul prisons and ransomed for excessive prices, or tormented there by three evils, namely hunger, thirst, and cold, and secretly put to death.55

49

Al-Maqrìzì, Sulùk, 60. Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubda, ii, 575. 51 Eddé, Principauté, 301–302. 52 Al-Maqrìzì, Sulùk, 275. 53 Eddé cites such an example in connection with the Aleppo citadel; Eddé, Principauté, 111. 54 Ibn al-Mukarram, ‘On Conducting the Affairs of State’, L. Fernandes, tr., Annales Islamologiques, 24, 1988, 84; quoted in C. Hillenbrand, The Crusades; Islamic Perspectives, Edinburgh, 1999, 556. 55 Cited by Y. Friedman, ‘The Ransom of Captives in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem’, in M. Balard, ed., Autour de la Première Croisade, Paris, 1996, 178, n. 5. 50

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Was Reynald treated more or less harshly than other high-ranking Franks? It is not very likely that during this phase of his career his Muslim captors would have treated him in a more severe manner than other prestigious Frankish prisoners since, as already mentioned, at that time Reynald had reserved his most villainous deeds not for the Muslims but for his fellow-Christians: the Patriarch of Antioch, the Christian island of Cyprus and the Christian peasants in the region of Edessa. But it remains possible that news of his notoriety and panache had reached Muslim ears and that his captors paid particular attention to him. Royal or aristocratic status did not necessarily imply better treatment as a captive. The case of Joscelin II of Edessa and his son Joscelin, who were thrown at different times into a dungeon in the Aleppo citadel, makes that point most forcibly.56 Most noteworthy of all in this context is the remarkable fact that almost immediately after his release after 16 years in prison, Reynald returned to active service in full middle age at the head of the Franks of Antioch fighting against Saladin during his siege of A'zàz in June 1176—a clear indication both that Reynald was no ordinary man physically and that he had not been prevented by ill-treatment from taking up arms at once. Given that fighting in the Levant in the twelfth century could involve the wearing of heavy armour and the wielding of heavy weapons for long periods at a time, this means that Reynald had by one means or another managed to keep himself literally ‘fighting fit’ while in captivity. This is telling evidence of his determination and his spirit, triumphantly unbroken by prison, and may perhaps suggest conditions of imprisonment that allowed him room for some physical exercise at least. Of course, royal or quasi-royal status often meant that a prisoner of war was kept alive for the high ransom which could be raised by his supporters outside or for purposes of exchange against Muslim prisoners held in Frankish jails. However, high social rank did not preclude the possibility, either on initial capture or during a long imprisonment, that the Muslim ruler, influenced by changing political circumstances, or even on a whim, might suddenly decide to torture or kill the prisoner. Not only maiming, but also the deaths of prominent Crusader leaders in Muslim captivity are recorded—for exam-

56

Bar Hebraeus, Chronography, 226.

     

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ple, Odo, the Grand Master of the Temple57 died whilst in Saladin’s custody. Tughtegin, the early twelfth-century ruler of Damascus, was not swayed by financial considerations and is reported in the Muslim sources as having killed with his own hand several Crusader captives, including Gervase de Basoches in 1108.58 Nùr al-Dìn, Reynald’s captor, was not famed for his mild treatment of prisoners, however prestigious they might be. Indeed, he meted out terrible treatment to Joscelin II in 544/1150. Joscelin had sent a wounding message to Nùr al-Dìn; in fury he later retaliated by arranging for Joscelin’s ambush and by gouging out his eyes and torturing him in the citadel of Aleppo. There Joscelin languished in irons for a further nine years until his death in 1159.59 Joscelin remained loyal to Christianity despite all punishments and threats until his death.60 Given the omission of any such details in the case of Reynald, and given too the evidence of a very vigorous career after his release, it can be assumed that he escaped serious physical maltreatment in the course of his imprisonment. Perhaps Reynald’s talent in adverse circumstances of ingratiating himself personally with those in power, as exhibited in his melodramatic performance before Manuel after the Cyprus escapade, also enabled him to survive in a Muslim prison. It is probable, especially in view of his potential worth in ransom money, that Reynald was kept in chains during his captivity. Evidence provided by Ibn al-Mukarram indicates that, in the Mamluk period at least, Frankish prisoners were kept permanently in chains.61 It is unlikely that Reynald would have been allowed out of captivity to perform tasks of hard labour, since such activities are more likely to have been undertaken by common prisoners than by those of aristocratic descent with a potentially high ransom value.62 Hard labour, on the other hand, despite the horrors it involved, would

57

Al-Maqrìzì, Sulùk, 60. Ibn al-Furàt, Tàrìkh al-duwal wa’l-mulùk, U. and M.C. Lyons, tr., as Ayyubids, Mamluks and Crusaders, Cambridge, 1971, ii, 45–46. 59 Gregory the Priest rails against “the unheard-of inhumanity” of Nùr al-Dìn; Matthew, Chronique, 350; cf. also Michael, Chronique, 316. 60 For full details of the terrible treatment received by Joscelin at the hands of Nùr al-Dìn, see R.L. Nicholson, Joscelyn III and the Fall of the Crusader States 1134–1199, Leiden, 1973, 21. 61 Hillenbrand, Crusades, 556. 62 Saladin, for example, used prisoners to fortify Acre in 584/1188–89, see alMaqrìzì, Sulùk, 87. 58

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have afforded the prisoners some small benefits—light, fresh air, limited movement of limbs. These advantages would have to be balanced against the extreme dangers of severe manual labour under the unremitting rays of the sun and the accompanying thirst and sunstroke. Was this better than being enclosed in a dark pit or at best a small room, day and night? Wherever he may have been housed, Reynald would have suffered greatly from the physical inactivity imposed on him. A prisoner as valuable as he was would be watched all the time.63 It is difficult to determine what, if any, contact Reynald would have had with his fellow-prisoners in the Aleppo citadel. It is conceivable that prisoners were allowed occasionally to meet each other, either out of the generosity of a jailer or because of bribes or the promise of a reward on release. It is also likely that prisoners developed strategies for communicating with each other during the long hours of captivity. In prison at Aleppo, for at least part of Reynald’s captivity, were Joscelin III, Raymond of Tripoli, and, briefly, Bohemond. Reynald outstayed them all and still lived to fight another day. It is also possible that these high-ranking Crusader prisoners were allowed visits by local Christian priests; given the significant numbers of Christians in Aleppo it is possible that this privilege was allowed to the prisoners. Certainly in extremis a visit would have been permitted—as is well known, Joscelin II, Count of Edessa, although he followed the Latin confession, was given the last rites in his dungeon in Aleppo by the Jacobite bishop of the city, Ignace.64 Another well-known Latin prisoner who died in Muslim captivity, this time in Damascus, was the Grand Master of the Templars, Odo of SaintAmand.65 Why was Reynald held in prison longer than the other highranking Crusader leaders and why was the ransom demanded for him by his captors higher than that of his peers? Was it because he was so disliked and feared by his Muslim captors and regarded as too much of a danger to be released? Was it because there was still, 16 years later, a reluctance on the part of the Crusader leadership to pay up? Eventually, he was released for the ransom of 120,000

63 64 65

Schlumberger, Reynaud, 159. Eddé, Principauté, 455; Claverie, ‘Statut’, 507. Claverie, ‘Statut’, 502.

     

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dinars,66 whilst Raymond of Tripoli cost only 80,000. Hamilton argues67 that the high price paid for Reynald was because, although during his captivity he had become a landless man, his prestige had risen, as both his daughter Agnes and his stepdaughter Mary68 had married royalty. It has been argued that Nùr al-Dìn was unwilling to release prisoners from captivity. It seems clear enough that Nùr al-Dìn enjoyed the prestige of possessing rich prisoners; indeed, William of Tyre remarks: Nùr al-Dìn “avoit grant gloire de tenir noz riches homes en sa prison”.69 Nevertheless, he was willing to, and did, release some of his most prestigious prisoners for good pragmatic reasons. Political expediency was, of course, a factor. Just before Reynald’s capture, after the Byzantine emperor Manuel had returned to Constantinople after his expedition to Antioch in 1159, Nùr al-Dìn, fearful of reprisals, had released most of the prisoners in his hands.70 The Grand Master of the Temple, Bertrand de Blanchefort, captured in 1157 with 87 of his knights, was released on this occasion.71 Reynald himself led an expedition involving the Templars to liberate captives in Aleppo and Damascus.72 Bohemond III (whose sister was married to the Byzantine emperor, Manuel) was set free very quickly by Nùr alDìn in 1164. No doubt, Bohemond’s prestigious connections weighed heavily in this decision. Exchange of prisoners was a useful strategy.73 When Bertrand was released by Nùr al-Dìn in 1160 no ransom was paid, apparently in exchange for Usàma’s brother.74 Yet no such release awaited Reynald. Why was it that Nùr al-Dìn resolutely refused to let him go? Given the above examples of a flexible approach to prisoners on the part of Nùr al-Dìn, it is all the more significant that Reynald was held in captivity for so long and that

66 Hamilton calls this an “astronomical sum” and remarks that hostages must have been given to ensure its payment; Hamilton, Leper King, 105. 67 Hamilton, Leper King, 104–5. 68 Mary’s marriage to the Byzantine emperor Manuel took place on 25 December 1161. R. Grousset, Histoire des Croisades et du Royaume de Jerusalem, ii, 432; William, History, ii, 290, n. 87. 69 Quoted by Grousset, Histoire, ii, 470. 70 Nicholson argues that Nùr al-Dìn only released prisoners under real pressure and that ordinary offers of ransom did not tempt him; Nicholson, Joscelyn III, 38. 71 Claverie, ‘Statut’, 502. 72 Claverie, ‘Statut’, 502; Matthew, Chronique, 355–356. 73 Claverie, ‘Statut’, 502. 74 Claverie, ‘Statut’, 506.

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he was not freed until after the death of Nùr al-Dìn. Had his captor not died, he would probably have remained sine die in the Aleppo citadel. If Nùr al-Dìn was holding out for an enormous ransom, clearly this plan had not proved successful. Whatever his reasons, however, Nùr al-Dìn had kept Reynald in custody for longer than any other prisoner (even longer than Joscelin III). So it was highly fortunate for Reynald that in the uncertain interregnum after the death of one powerful warlord, Nùr al-Dìn, and the consolidation in power of the next, Saladin, there was an opportunity to negotiate for his release.75

Reynald’s release There would be little or no chance of rescuing prisoners by force from the Aleppo citadel nor was there much likelihood of a spectacular escape such as that staged by Joscelin I from Khartpert in 517/1123–24.76 Negotiations and an agreed ransom were the usual way for prisoners to be released from such a stronghold. The release of prisoners during the Crusading period, on both sides of the ideological divide, came to be regarded as a meritorious act. Muslim rulers could establish a pious bequest (waqf ) for the release of prisoners or they could provide money directly for such a purpose. The case of Gökböri, the lord of Irbil, is worthy of note. As his obituary given by Ibn Khallikàn notes: Twice every year he dispatched a number of trusty agents to the cities on the sea-coast, and furnished them with large sums for the redemption of such Muslims as might be in the hands of the infidels.77

The circumstances of Reynald’s release are well-known. He was set free by Sayf al-Dìn Ghàzì, the son of Nùr al-Dìn, who was operating from Mosul. The deal involved the release of other high-ranking

75 Hamilton comments in the context of the eventual release of Reynald and his stepson Joscelin III that Nùr al-Dìn “had steadfastly refused to set free” these two; Hamilton, Leper King, 103. Ehrenkreutz points out that it is ironical that Saladin’s Syrian expedition brought about Reynald’s release and he indirectly blames Saladin for bringing about this momentous event; Ehrenkreutz, Saladin, 144. 76 Al-'AΩìmì, Chronique, 392. 77 Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, ii, 538.

     

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Latin prisoners. The release occurred probably between 26 April and 13 May 1176.

What were the effects of Reynald’s long period of confinement, both physically and psychologically? I now come to the core of this paper, and I freely admit that it involves some speculation. My defence must be that the scholars who have dealt with Reynald’s life in detail have most unaccountably failed to take into consideration the huge black hole at the centre of that life. Little imagination is needed to work out that the effects of 16 years of harsh imprisonment in the prime of life would be a decisive experience for anyone. At first glance, the personality of Reynald as portrayed in the Crusader sources which speak of him before his captivity would seem to be ill-suited to the demands of captivity. Someone as active and energetic as he was must have found the enforced inactivity extremely irksome. His brutal, passionate and turbulent personality would not be well suited to a life in prison. Friedman rightly draws attention to the lack of psychological preparation on the part of the Crusaders to the concept or reality of captivity; their ideology embraced two possibilities—victory or death (“sive autem supervixerunt, sive mortui fuerint”). Captivity was probably therefore considered as shameful. Nor were the Franks, unlike the Syrian Muslims in a frontier society, used to the practicalities of ransoming captives.78 Schlumberger writes with his customary hyperbole of the immense void over Reynald’s life during his “interminable captivity” and that nothing is known of his terrible sufferings.79 As already mentioned, Reynald seems to have escaped permanent maiming or blinding in prison. He must in any case have possessed a remarkably strong physical constitution to have survived such a long stay in the Aleppo dungeon. Even supposing that for financial or other political reasons his captors wished to keep him sufficiently healthy, he would not have lived in any degree of comfort. Poor food, terrible sanitation, insects, infection, lack of movement would all have endangered his

78 79

Friedman, ‘Ransom’, 180–181. Schlumberger, Reynaud, 158.

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health throughout his captivity. The extremes of temperature characteristic of the Aleppan climate would have been difficult to bear— cold winters and hot summers80—but down in the dungeons of the citadel it was probably cold all the time—an easier situation for a prisoner from northern Europe to bear than the heat of an Aleppan summer. Reynald must have experienced intense loneliness, recurring humiliations and boredom. Frustration too must have afflicted him constantly, as he sought by all possible means to organize his own ransom,81 Friedman argues that in the twelfth century, before the founding of military orders whose task it was to organize and fund the ransom of captives, it was the knight’s own responsibility to arrange his own release and pay his own ransom. By the thirteenth century the obligation of vassals to contribute to the ransom of their lord seems to have crystallized.82 Fear must have been a recurring, if not permanent, emotion for Reynald—fear, of course, of punishment, torture or death at any time at the hand of his captors and fear of rotting until he died in Aleppo if his ransom was not found. Other more primeval forms of fear may well have preyed on his mind; fear of Divine punishment for his misdeeds during his first period of fighting in the Holy Land where he attacked fellow-Christians as much, if not more, than Muslims and fear caused by experiencing at first hand a series of major earthquakes which hit Syria during his time in captivity. For the reign of Nùr al-Dìn alone there is mention in the Muslim sources of earthquakes in Syria in 552/1157,83 563/1167–68,84 and 565/1170. Ibn Khallikàn mentions that on 18 Shawwàl 565/5 July 1170 “Aleppo and many other cities suffered severely from an earthquake.”85 Two of these occurred during Reynald’s captivity in Aleppo. And there were more, since Ibn al-'Adìm states that the earthquakes recurred for a period of seven years.86 The earthquake of 565/1170 hit the Aleppo citadel and Nùr al-Dìn

80

Sauvaget, Alep, i, 3. Schlumberger suggests that “Reynald’s sole preoccupation would be to try to get himself ransomed”; Schlumberger, Reynaud, 158. 82 Friedman, ‘Ransom’, 187. 83 Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubda, ii, 483; Ibn al-Athìr, Atabegs, RHC, HO, 196. 84 Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubda, ii, 502. 85 Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, iv, 407. 86 Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubda, ii, 483. 81

     

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repaired its west front.87 If Reynald was in chains during his captivity, as is likely in view of his increasing value for ransom, then being assailed by an earthquake must have been an even more horrific experience for him and his fellow-prisoners than for others. Far more significant, perhaps, than the physical difficulties and indignities which Reynald had to endure for 16 years were the psychological traumas of his personal humiliation and of captivity itself. These points are raised by Nicholson in connection with another long-term prisoner (1164–76) in the Aleppo citadel, Joscelin III; Nicholson remarks that the enforced military and political inactivity in the prime of life must have been very irksome. The ennui of imprisonment, heightened by bitterness, was probably shared by Joscelin’s fellow prisoners, Raymond of Tripoli and Reynald.88 Violent emotion fuels the will to live. Rage would have assailed Reynald, especially at the beginning of his imprisonment, and at key moments such as the ransoming of his fellow-prisoners whilst he was left to languish in captivity. A modern captive, Brian Keenan, expresses such emotions: I began to rage and blaspheme man and God. I cursed every one of my captors and searched out every foul-mouthed word of condemnation that I could find.89

Reynald’s proximity to Muslims day in, day out, must have led him to learn at least some Arabic but that by no means implies that he would have felt sympathy for the enemy’s religious and cultural attitudes. It is plain that he left Muslim captivity just as he had entered it, as an ‘un-reconstructed’ Frank. Reynald’s attitude to Islam and to his Muslim captors, no matter what survival strategies he may have developed, must have been one of profound and settled hatred. The deep psychological effects of his captivity must, I would argue, have moulded him in his mature years and have had a direct influence over his actions after his release. If strong convictions are the secret of surviving deprivation and captivity then Reynald’s erratic commitment to the Crusader cause, exhibited in his frenetic and unfocused raiding before his imprisonment, must have hardened in the Aleppo citadel into one single-minded and unswerving purpose—to 87 88 89

Ibn Shi˙na, Perles, 74; Elisséeff, Nur al-Din, ii, 714; Sauvaget, Alep, i, 119. Nicholson, Joscelyn III, 37. B. Keenan, ‘An Evil Cradling’ in The Guardian Weekend, 19 September 1992, 14.

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fight Islam—for which he is famous after his release, during the years 1176–87. The formidable reputation he had acquired by the time of his death is summed up by Bar Hebraeus: Now Arnat (Reynald) was an old man who was experienced in wars, and there was no limit to his strength and courage, and he was held in great fear by the Arabs.90

Nelson Mandela writes in his autobiography in very graphic terms about his 26 years’ imprisonment in South Africa:91 The challenge for every prisoner, particularly every political prisoner, is how to survive prison intact, how to emerge from prison undiminished, how to conserve and even replenish one’s beliefs.

Prison, says Mandela, is a kind of crucible which tests a man’s character.92 In a context which made it difficult to tell night from day, where it was no doubt hard to mark the passing of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, it would be easy to lose one’s sanity. Frustration, physical pain, hunger, thirst, fear of death, sheer boredom—all these must have assailed Reynald in Aleppo. They must have been exacerbated after he heard that Bohemond, one of his fellow-prisoners, had been released in the summer of 1165. Reynald might well have wondered why he was the one doomed to languish in the dungeon. An increasing commitment to his faith, coupled with own powerful urge to survive, may well have sustained him as time went on. An awareness of the sins he had committed in his earlier career must have assailed him. It would have been a short step from that realisation to the belief that God was punishing him for his recklessness: if ever he was released he would make amends.

The effects of Reynald’s captivity on his subsequent actions There is little or no comment in the secondary literature on the effects of Reynald’s captivity on his subsequent actions—the seizing of the caravans and the Hijaz exploit, in particular—and the motives which fuelled them. Stevenson writes eloquently about him:93 90 91 92 93

Bar Hebraeus, Chronography, 324. N. Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom, London, 1994, 375–376. Mandela, Long Walk, 440. Stevenson, Crusaders, 214.

     

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Captivity had not dimmed his fiery zeal nor abated his high spirit. In these last days of the Kingdom he is the old Crusading hero incarnate; full of restless energy and reckless daring.

Baldwin echoes these sentiments in his statement that Reynald had not been broken by captivity.94 Hamilton’s insights, however, go deeper and he stresses that Reynald was now “sincerely committed to the crusader cause in a way in which he had not earlier been”.95 Nevertheless, still greater emphasis should perhaps be placed on the psychological underpinning of Reynald’s later actions after his release. Far from being wild and reckless these must have been fuelled by a religious resolve and passion inflamed in captivity. He had learned where the Muslims were most vulnerable and that is where he struck. His achievements were all the more remarkable since he had lost his prime in prison and emerged, as Schlumberger puts it, “already in decline”.96 The awareness that there was little enough left of his active life would certainly have spurred him on. It was a case of now or never, with the tinge of desperation which that attitude is liable to bring. It has frequently been said by Crusader historians that Reynald’s activities after his release brought about the loss of the Kingdom of Jerusalem in 1187. His breaking of truces by his attacks on Muslim caravans, his open threats to Islam, his raids down the Red Sea are criticised by Crusader and Muslim sources alike. But they make excellent sense in the context which I have tried to sketch. As already mentioned, Reynald had not been very vigorous in prosecuting war against the Muslims when he first arrived from France. He was motivated by personal ambition and plain greed. But once released from captivity, his natural psychological alliance was with the Crusader newcomers (such as Philip of Flanders and William of Montferrat) and his extraordinary bellicosity despite a whole adult lifetime in the Muslim world must surely be attributed to the experiences of prison and to his remarkable ability to survive, physically and mentally. He was ‘reborn’; it was as if he had just come from Europe. As Baldwin remarks, Reynald “never lost the boldness usually associated with the newcomer”.97 94

Baldwin, Raymond, 62. There were instances of Franks apostatising to obtain release (Claverie, ‘Statut’, 510) but such conduct was not compatible with Reynald’s character. 96 Schlumberger, Reynaud, 160. 97 Baldwin, Raymond, 62. 95

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That is why his targets changed so dramatically. After his release in 1176, gone were his ‘crazy’ raids on Christian targets. He now had a score to settle, and he had had 16 years to plan it. His goal was now unalterably fixed on attacking and destroying Islam. On careful consideration, the Hijaz episode seems far less wild and idiosyncratic than scholars have hitherto described it. Reynald’s hatred of Islam is highlighted in the Muslim sources. Vile words are put into his mouth. Most of the key episodes concerning Reynald after his release are marked with uncharacteristic personalised ferocity on both sides. Reynald refused to release the caravan captives whom he had imprisoned in the dungeon at Kerak. Surely this can be seen as an act prompted by a desire for vengeance and for a punishment to inflict in return for all the years he had spent in captivity. The captive has become the captor in a violent and vengeful tit for tat. And the famous climax to the story shows Saladin, even in the most panegyrical accounts of his career, slicing off Reynald’s head personally whilst treating other high-ranking Crusader captives with magnanimity. As already mentioned, Hamilton argues that in the second half of his public life Reynald was sincerely committed to the Crusader cause.98 But the limitation of his otherwise excellent account is that it does not fully address the psychological effects of Reynald’s captivity. I would argue that this experience was the trigger for a change of heart that led to a total change of policy. From Christian targets he moved to Muslim ones. Whatever the balance of opinion may be, Reynald should, I would argue, be viewed as a rather tragic figure who preferred in the dying days of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem to attack and not to defend, and to fight to the bitter end. The crucible of an Aleppan prison had made sure of that. Reynald must have been around 60, if not more, when he was killed. From the Crusader standpoint he has been made by some the scapegoat for the loss of Jerusalem. A few dissenting voices see him in a more heroic light—the author of the Itinerarium Peregrinorum castigates Saladin

98

Hamilton, ‘Elephant’, 99; Barber argues that this may be taking the rehabilitation of Reynald a little too far, but that whatever his motives, “almost alone among the Franks he was prepared to take the war to the Muslims, rather than simply waiting to be attacked”; M. Barber, ‘Frontier Warfare in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem: the Campaign of Jacob’s Ford, 1178–79’ in J. France and W.G. Zajaz, eds, The Crusades and their Sources: Essays presented to Bernard Hamilton, Aldershot, 1998, 21.

     

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for cutting off “that veteran and aged head”99—and Peter of Blois went so far as to write the Passio Reginaldis.100 So at least some of his fellow Crusaders understood his motivation.

Conclusions Perhaps one can go too far in attempting to restore the good reputation of Reynald de Châtillon. Indeed, for some scholars, he will always remain a loose cannon. I have tried to show that Reynald’s 16 years’ captivity was the defining experience of his career. Before Aleppo he had been a buccaneer engaged in daring raids notably against Christian targets. He was thus crudely out for personal gain. He was a newcomer ‘on the make’. After his release from Aleppo this buccaneering spirit was transmuted into extraordinarily bellicose, but also extraordinarily effective and focused action against Muslim targets. His ability to surprise and to think laterally—demonstrated in his notorious attack on the Byzantine island of Cyprus—was again highlighted in even more dramatic fashion, in his menacing the ˙ajj route from his Kerak base, and in his raids down the Red Sea. These demonstrate his hard-won insider’s knowledge of Muslim psychology. Whilst in captivity, his survival skills were honed. Perhaps he used his famous charm on his jailers. But at a more profound level, he must have been spurred on by the iron resolve, born of hatred of his captors and their accursed religion, to exact vengeance for being kept captive for 16 years, and by an awareness that God was punishing him for his sins against Christendom before his imprisonment. So the clue to his whole life lies in those silent years of suffering.

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Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi, K. Fenwick, ed., London, 1958, 23. Peter of Blois, ‘Passio Reginaldis Principis Antiocheni’ in Patrologia Latina, J.P. Migne, ed., Paris, 1844–64, cols. 957–976. 100

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carole hillenbrand

Seal of Reynaud of Châtillon

A CONVERSATION ON CONTEMPORARY POLITICS IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY: ‘AL-MAQÀMA AL-BAGHDÀDIYYA’ BY AL-WAHRÀNÌ (D. 575/1179) Geert Jan van Gelder (Oxford)

Whatever modest fame Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙riz al-Wahrànì has, it is mainly for his humorous writings, which combine parody and satire.1 If in the following I shall present a text by him that is neither humorous nor satirical, this is because my choice was determined by the subject, which seems appropriate in view of the speciality of the recipient—not because I consider him unable to appreciate humour and parody. Donald Richards’ interests include historical texts of, especially, the sixth/twelfth century, and maqàmàt. What better than to choose a maqàma written in that period about contemporary events? Judging by internal evidence al-Wahrànì’s Maqàma Baghdàdiyya was composed between Mu˙arram 567/September 1171, when Egypt became officially Sunni, and the death of al-ÓaΩìrì in Íafar 568/ November 1172; at a time, that is, when Saladin, who is prominent

1 See H. Fähndrich, ‘Parodie im “Mittelalter”: aus einem Werk des M. b. Mu˙riz al-Wahrànì (gest. 1179–80)’, in W. Heinrichs and G. Schoeler, eds, Festschrift Ewald Wagner, II: Studien zur arabischen Dichtung, Beirut – Stuttgart, 1994, 439–446. It was through a talk on al-Wahrànì by Hartmut Fähndrich which I attended in Cairo in 1990 that my interest in al-Wahrànì was raised. Al-Wahrànì, as his nisba indicates, originated from Oran but we only know of his career in Egypt and Syria, after his migration to the East. See Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt al-a'yàn, Beirut, 1977, iv, 385–386, al-Íafadì, Wàfì bi’l-wafayàt, Wiesbaden 1962–, iv, 386–389; E.K. Rowson in Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature [EAL], J.S. Meisami and P. Starkey, eds, London, 1998, ii, 802. There seems to be some unnecessary confusion about the year of his death. Brockelmann, in Geschichte der arabischen Litteratur [= GAL, i, 489, Brockelmann and several others, e.g. S.M. Ayyad, in 'Abbasid Belles-Lettres], (Cambridge History of Arabic Literature, ii), Ashtiany et al., eds, Cambridge, 1990, 423, have 574/1178; R. Allen, The Arabic Literary Heritage, Cambridge, 1998, 245, has 1179, Fähndrich, ‘Parodie’, 439 has 1179–1180, and Rowson (EAL, 802), has 565/1179, obviously intending 575/1179, which is correct (see Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, iv, 385: al-Wahrànì died in 575 in Dàrayyà, near Damascus; the tidings reached Damascus on the 17th of the month of Rajab of 575, just before the beginning of AD 1180). I am grateful to Professor Rowson for giving me a copy of his unpublished paper entitled ‘Parody in Arabic adab: The Rasà"il of al-Wahrànì’.

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in this text, was still in his early thirties, busily engaged in building his position of power in Egypt but still nominally, and grudgingly, Nùr al-Dìn’s subordinate. The text is preserved in two different versions, both published (and rather scantily annotated) by the editors of al-Wahrànì’s works.2 My choice for one of these rather than the other as the basis for the translation is inspired by the fact that there are some indications that it is an older version; in any case, the more important deviations from the other version are given or discussed in the annotation. Version A is introduced with: “al-Shaykh Rukn al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad [sic, instead of Mu˙riz] al-Wahrànì al-Maghribì, may God forgive him, said, describing Baghdad and his journey towards it, and eulogising the caliph . . .” This is somewhat misleading, seeing that the author’s journey is hurried over in the briefest space possible, the description of Baghdad takes up merely a few lines, and praise of the caliph is only one of the several themes of the maqàma, firmly outdone by praise of the Ayyubid family. The maqàma style, as always, is difficult to render into readable English. I have not attempted to render the rhymes. The turgid language and the rapid succession of figurative expressions and allusions may actually appear as humorous and parodical, through the exaggerations and the apparent mixing of metaphors. However, I am convinced that, for once, al-Wahrànì did not intend to raise laughs. His biographers say that after his arrival in Egypt (we do not know at what age), al-Wahrànì tried his hand at making a career with serious inshà", but, finding he could not compete with such luminaries as al-Qà∂ì al-Fà∂il and 'Imàd al-Dìn al-Kàtib al-Ißfahànì, decided to specialise in hazl. If al-Wahrànì’s forced ‘conversion’ from jidd to hazl was total, this could mean that al-maqàma al-Baghdàdiyya was written before his other, parodistic and humorous, works. It might be argued, however, that writing in the panegyric mode using the maqàma form, instead of the more customary qaßìda or ordinary risàla, is in itself enough of a deviation to count as mild hazl. The 2 Manàmàt al-Wahrànì wa-maqàmàtuhu wa-rasà"iluhu, I. Sha'làn and M. Naghash, eds, Cairo, 1968, 1–9 (MS Istanbul, Aya Sophia 4299, here called version A) and 10–16 (MS Princeton, Garrett 97, here called version B and taken as the basis of the translation). Several short references to al-Wahrànì are found in M.C. Lyons and D.E.P. Jackson, Saladin: The Politics of the Holy War, Cambridge, 1982, 2–4, 6, 10, 28, 118–119, 143, 371–372; two of these (6 and 28) quote from al-maqàma alBaghdàdiyya.

    

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structure of the maqàma nevertheless shows some parallels with a panegyric qaßìda. The poet/author, or his persona, has arrived at his patron or patrons after a journey (ra˙ìl/ri˙la) full of hardship. In a poem, the patron as newly-beloved is often a positive (reliable, present, munificent) substitute for the beloved of the past, who is unreliable, absent, and niggardly. In al-Wahrànì’s maqàma the past loves are represented as former dynasties who have dwindled and failed. There is one exception: The Almohads were still in their prime at the time of writing, even though the edge seems to have been taken off their vigour. They are not so much past as distant after alWahrànì’s migration, which may have had something to do with the Almohads extending their power over most of the Maghrib. In a rather odd comment on the Almohads (“. . . better to be silent on this matter, . . . more expedient to appease snakes”), al-Wahrànì seems to make a guarded yet invective remark. The composition is a maqàma, not in the Hamadhànì-Óarìrian sense of a narrative in rhymed prose with plots of vagary, roguery, beggary (sometimes even buggery and skulduggery), and recognition, and with a narrator and a ‘hero’,3 but in a more general sense, with only the barest minimum of narrative frame: ‘I arrived . . . I had a conversation . . . We parted’. The role of the conversation partner is limited; mostly he asks and is answered. He gives information only when asked about the caliph and his vizier. Two other pieces by alWahrànì are called maqàma: Maqàma fì Shams al-Khilàfa (97–102, in B called a risàla), and a maqàma on Sicily (219–221). Moreover, alWahrànì’s longest and most famous composition, al-Manàm, is called maqàma in one MS (Cairo). The maqàma on Shams al-Khilàfa begins with ˙addathanà 'Ìsà b. Óammàd al-Íiqillì. The maqàma on Sicily opens simply with qàla al-Wahrànì; here, like in al-Baghdàdiyya, some person is interrogated about a series of personages, who are briefly described. The maqàma was possibly written as a means of getting reward from several patrons, the persons mentioned in it. From beginning to end, munificence and reward is a continuous theme. One could imagine the author making the rounds, perhaps with different versions slightly adapted to suit everyone’s taste. At the same time it 3 Too often scholars take this to be the ‘real’ description of the maqàma (see e.g. R. Drory in EAL, 507–508), or criticise authors who dare to call their compositions maqàmàt which do not answer to the orientalist definition; thus e.g. Abdelfattah Kilito on ‘al-Suyù†ì’s Maqàmàt’, in Les Séances: Récits et codes culturels chez Hamadhânî et Harîrî, Paris, 1983, 152.

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could be taken as a (possibly commissioned) piece of ideological propaganda, written in order to strengthen the newly re-established ties between the Abbasids and the Ayyubids, with lip-service to the Zanjids only in B, perhaps the earlier version.

Translation Al-Wahrànì said: One day, despairing of my aims and having lost my bearings,4 I gave myself a free rein and made gilded poems my wares, sucking the teats of erudition. I did not pass by a prince without alighting at his courtyard and invoking the rain of his palm (i.e. his munificence), or a vizier without knocking at his door and asking for a reward, or a qà∂ì without taking the flow of his gifts, emptying his pockets. Thus I lived for years on end, moving from town to town. Finally I came towards Iraq, being weary of departing. So I went to the City of Peace (viz. Baghdad), in order to set out for the Islamic pilgrimage. I entered it after suffering much hardship and enduring a bitter life. When I had settled there and my face had cleared up,5 I went round the town, searching, and I looked at it critically. I saw a swelling sea impossible to cross, its end impossible to see; and a garden made splendid by him who planted it,6 its keeper7 having obtained the enjoyment of it. Pious and pure people will not stray from it; nobody will be able to describe it with sufficiently high praise: like “the garden that is promised to the pious” (Q 13:35). I let myself rest from travelling through valleys and mountain-passes and sat down to await the season of the pilgrimage.

4 i∂†arabat maghàribì: the editors point out that this may be a punning allusion to al-Wahrànì’s leaving the Maghrib. 5 Some of this echoes the expressions used in another, altogether more jocular maqàma by al-Wahrànì, in which the narrator, 'Ìsà b. Óammàd al-Íiqillì, tells us that he left Sicily, where Islam was on the wane, and after much hardship reached Damascus (al-Wahrànì, Manàmàt, 97). The editors say in a note that they have been unable to identify this person, which should not surprise us. Obviously, he is just as real as al-Hamadhànì’s 'Ìsà, and to some extent al-Wahrànì’s alter ego. 6 A: by its gardener. 7 A: its inhabitants.

    

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I longed to be on intimate terms with intelligent people and to converse with virtuous men. I asked where I could expect8 erudition and where books and scribes9 gathered. One leading personage showed me the way to the shop of sheikh Abù al-Ma'àlì,10 saying, He is the orchard of erudition, the archive of the Arabs. His judgment is sound and he has a share in every branch of learning. So I went to meet him and sat with him. He asked me how I was and where I came from. I am a stranger, I said, whose travels ended not long ago.11 He asked, Where have you come from and in which countries have you been? I answered, From the furthest West, from a distance so far that it cannot be computed. From a country not reached by the sun ere its spheres are exhausted and its angels clamour,12 nor by the moon before its saddle is worn to shreds, its house (burj, lit. tower) tottering, nor by

8

The edition has ma∂inna instead of the correct maΩinna. kuttàb could mean scribes, civil servants, or writers. 10 As the editors point out correctly but somewhat insufficiently, he is without doubt to be identified as Abù al-Ma'àlì al-Kutubì, who died in 568/1172. More fully, he is Abù al-Ma'àlì Sa'd b. 'Alì b. al-Qàsim al-Warràq al-ÓaΩìrì, also known as Dallàl al-Kutub (‘the Book Merchant’), author of several works including a sequel to al-Bàkharzì’s literary anthology Dumyat al-qaßr. Described as erudite, a good poet and somewhat aloof (fond of khalwa and inqi†à' ), he was at some time suspected of heresy (“adhering to the view of the awà"il ”), but after a period of self-imposed exile he did not encounter any difficulties after his return to Baghdad. See Yàqùt, Mu'jam al-udabà", Cairo, 1936–38, xi, 194–197, Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, Beirut, 1968–72, ii, 366–368, Ibn al-Jawzì, MuntaΩam, Hyderabad, 1937–40, x, 241, 'Imàd al-Dìn al-Ißfahànì, Kharìdat al-qaßr, qism al-'Iràq, Baghdad, 1955–81, iv, 28–106 (with numerous poems and rasà"il), Ibn Kathìr, al-Bidàya wa’l-nihàya, Beirut, 1977, xii, 273, al-Íafadì, Wàfì, xv, 169–176, al-Dhahabì, Siyar nubalà" al-Islàm, Beirut, 1981–88, xx, 580–581. Brockelmann, GAL, i, 248, S i, 441, 446. If al-ÓaΩìrì had died before al-Wahrànì composed his maqàma, one would have expected some indication of this, such as the expression ra˙imahu ’llàh. In the absence of this, one can assume that the maqàma was written during his lifetime. 11 A has: “When he looked at me and saw the traces of travelling on me, he greeted me and made me feel at ease by his words. He asked me where I came from”. 12 amlàk: here apparently, for the sake of the rhyme, an irregular plural of malak, instead of malà"ika. It is not clear why the sun should have more than one sphere. 9

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the wind until its boldness flinches and its feet are sore. He asked, What do you know about your time and those you have left behind you? I said to him, I have inspected countries inside out13 and I have exposed their defects. I have met their high and mighty and memorised the stories about them.14 Of which dynasty are you ignorant and about which one do you wish to ask? He said, First of all, I should like to ask you about the dynasty of the Veiled (al-Mulaththamùn) and the descendants of the Commander of the Believers.15 I answered,16 They are a nation (umma) that is now of the past, a garden that has become barren. Its full moons have set; its pre-eminent positions have lapsed. Its ill stars have risen and its suns have vanished. Yet they were bolder than lions and more generous than rain-showers, finer than flowers and brighter than the midday sun. When they are veiled with linen shawls,17 you would think their faces were blossoms appearing through cracks in the buds;

13 qallabtu junùbahà, lit. “I have turned their sides”; the idiom is derived from the inspection of slaves (taqlìb al-'abìd ) by prospective buyers. 14 A adds: “I have written a volume about this, in which I have immortalised their memory”. No such work has been preserved. 15 Also called al-Muràbi†ùn, or the Almoravids. Their leader was called amìr almuslimìn, rather than amìr al-mu"minìn. The text of A, which has “Commander of the Muslims”, is therefore likely to be correct, and the version of B may be due to a careless or ignorant copyist who replaced it by the normal caliphal title amìr al-mu"minìn. 16 Instead of what follows, A has: “Alas! Deceased and passed away! Their fire is extinguished, their traces have been destroyed, their assembly has turned black, and their enemies have come to rule over them. ‘They adorned the earth during their lifetime; now, having died, they adorn books and epic tales.’” (for this line, see below). 17 The edition (both A and B) has bi’l-rab†; read bi’l-ray† and see R. Dozy, Supplément aux dictionnaires arabes, Leiden, 1927, s.v., where this verse is quoted (from an unpub-

    

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And when they are veiled with Sàbirì mail,18 they show the eyes of snakes through the speckled snake-skins.

However, the vicissitudes of Time did not leave them until they had made them become like a nightly phantom,19 bemoaned by castles and pulpits, mourned by pens and inkwells. It has become a wasteland, its people have departed; it is destroyed by that which destroyed Lubad.20

He said, And what do you say about 'Abd al-Mu"min21 and his descendants, and his conduct in his territory? I replied, He was given heavenly support. He waded in blood22 and was given power over those who moved on water. His sword ruled the summits; he wielded it on the necks of the nations until crowns submitted to him and mankind and jinnis yielded to him. Then wise self-restraint sheathed his sword-blades and learning pared his nails, so that his behaviour softened and his temper calmed down.23 If learning had a tongue and paper were a person, they would complain and feel wronged,24 and recite to you in public this verse by Abù al-'Alà" (al-Ma'arrì ):25 They unsheathed a sharp sword, recited falsities, and said, We have spoken the truth! So we said,—You have!

lished work by al-Nuwayrì). Both verses are found, anonymously, in al-Nuwayrì’s Nihàyat al-arab, Cairo, 1923–85, xxiv, 265. 18 wa-in althamù bi’l-sàbiriyyati; more plausible is the version of Nihàyat al-arab: aw ilta"amù bi’l-sàbiriyyati “Or when they put on a coat of Sàbirì mail”. Sàbirì, according to the lexicographers derived from the Sasanian king Shàpùr, is a common epithet of high-quality cloth or mail. 19 †ayf al-khayàl, usually, in poetry, the nightly apparition of the absent beloved in a dream or vision. 20 The legendary sage Luqmàn (not Sulaymàn as the editors’ note on p. 2 has it) was promised long life, lasting the successive lifetimes of nine vultures. The ninth of these was called Lubad. The verse is by al-Nàbigha al-Dhubyànì, see W. Ahlwardt, ed., The Divans of the Six Ancient Arabic Poets, London, 1870, 6. 21 Leader of the Muwa˙˙idùn (Almohads), d. 558/1163. 22 khawwà∂ li’l-dimà"; these words are lacking in A. 23 This sentence is lacking in A. 24 Perhaps they would complain of being overburdened by having to convey 'Abd al-Mu"min’s deeds and false praises under threat, as the quoted verse suggests. 25 Luzùm mà là yalzam, Cairo, AH 1342, ii, 337, with slight variations.

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However, it is better to be silent on this matter; it is more expedient to appease snakes. It is in the presence of God that opponents will come together.26 He said, And what do you say about the Sicilian dynasty?27 I replied, Blood shed unavenged, a sword that is notched!28 A dynasty that declined, good fortune that ceased. Its Saul has perished, whereupon it passed away; its Goliath succumbed, whereupon it fell ill. They began to hold power by means of subtlety and cajolery, where first they held it with coercion and resistance; with gifts and bribes, where formerly with armies and fleets; with prayer in congregations, instead of battalions and warring hosts.29 Who, 'Azza, is there who will not change?30

He said, What do you say about the Egyptian dynasty?31 I replied, A scheming old woman, a conceited young girl! A blooming garden, a whoring female, born under a lucky star, grown up between drum and lute.32 When her good fortune became decrepit at last,

26 This sentence is lacking in A. Cf. Q 39:31: “On the day of resurrection in the presence of your Lord shall you dispute”. 27 al-dawla al-Íiqilliyya; in A: dawlat kàfir Íiqilliyya, seemingly making it clear the Norman dynasty is intended, which the editors believe is the case. A adds “and his conduct in days that are past”. I am inclined to believe that, like all the other dynasties discussed in the maqàma, Muslim rule in Sicily is meant, which sadly decayed during the 5th/11th century. The following expression “blood shed unavenged” makes this likely. In the maqàma as a whole, growing Ayyubid power and Abbasid suzerainty are contrasted with other Muslim dynasties whose might is dwindling or has vanished altogether. 28 Lacking in A. 29 A has a shorter version of this sentence: “They began to supply it (? ßàrù yumiddùnahà; as the editors say, it is not wholly clear who supports whom) with gifts and bribes, where formerly with armies and fleets”. 30 A hemistich by Kuthayyir 'Azza; see e.g. Abù al-Faraj al-Ißfahànì, al-Aghànì, Cairo, 1927–74, ix, 27. Al-Wahrànì also quotes it in another piece (114). 31 A adds: “and the 'Alawite caliphs”; they are, of course, the Fatimids. 32 Instead of this sentence, A has: “A seductive full-breasted girl, a lascivious young woman: ‘Men have given their lives for her love,/without attaining any-

    

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and her vigorous stem withered in the earth, she was struck with disasters “and God came upon their building from the foundations” (Q 16:26). A wound will sting after a time if the new tissue grows on rottenness.33

He asked, And how was its foundation uprooted, when once it was more remote than the star al-Suhà?34 It was full of soldiers and heroes; the clouds of its masters poured out generosity, giving in plenty and honouring their guests. It was about people like them that the poet said, They adorned this earth during their lifetime; now, having died, they adorn books and epic tales.35

I replied, When God decreed their destruction and showed their disgrace, he cast a fighting mood in their midst, so that Zayd hit 'Amr,36 Khàlid killed Bakr, the scabbard of the sword was broken, and they plied it37 winter and summer. They wreaked havoc incessantly until their lions had perished; they went on stubbornly until their troops had dispersed, so that the ropes of the dynasty had become too short to hold it together and its men too weak to control it. Thus it became like a beautiful girl exposed in her boudoir, given up by her menfolk, unable to ward off any bachelor or to repel the hand of someone wanting to touch her. Various neighbours began to compete for her and wended their camels’ necks to her abode. The Franks were the first to reach her, making her their chessboard on which they prowled around, protecting themselves in its shade, and eating its forbidden and permitted food. Prudent people rejected this state of affairs, and Muslim rulers angrily stood up for her. Then from among

thing.’/She was bred by the ruler in seclusion, between sin and depravity . . .” The verse is by al-Mutanabbì, Dìwàn with commentary by al-'Ukbarì, Cairo, 1956, iii, 34. 33 A line by al-Mutanabbì (Dìwàn, i, 363). 34 Perhaps meaning that their empire once stretched into vast distances. The star al-Suhà is a barely visible star in the Northern constellation Banàt na'sh al-ßughrà, used to test someone’s eyesight. 35 From a poem by Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì, Saq† al-zand, Beirut, 1980, 59. 36 Zayd and 'Amr are standard names in works on syntax, the former always hitting the latter. The following pair I cannot identify. 37 a'malùhu; A has “it was sheathed” (ughmida), which is surely wrong.

112

   

the sons of Shàdì38 that bone-breaking lion, the Victorious King,39 took it upon himself to devote his attention to her wholeheartedly.40 They invoked against him the help of all and sundry,41 including the Byzantine rulers.42 But he rent their canopies and killed their men. He departed from their territory, having struck terror in their hearts, and kept revisiting them, now briefly as a guest who stays the night, now as someone who has come to stay, until he had folded it up like a sealed letter. When he had completed his mission and achieved the utmost of his ambitions, he was transported to his Lord and gained goodwill by being near to Him. Then it was unanimously decided, after he had died, that it43 should be made perpetual in his family, in view of what they knew of their qualities of leadership and governance, and what they had experienced of their magnanimity and the length of their lances. The local grandees and those in command, after considering what was binding and examining the elements,44 agreed to empower his brother’s son, the King Who Helps Towards Victory, al-Malik al-Nàßir,45 because of his fine innate qualities, because of his love of justice and fairness, because in him kingly characteristics were combined with the humility of a pauper, and because of his particular noble-mindedness and open-handedness. Thus he took over power, while (the state) was disrupted as to its first principles,46 packed with disturbances and dangers, while the scorpions of its soldiers were creeping, and the cauldrons of hearts were boiling.47 He extended to them

38 Father of Shìrkùh and Ayyùb, eponym of the Ayyubids, and grandfather of Saladin. 39 Al-Malik al-Manßùr, also called Asad al-Dìn (‘the lion of the religion’), i.e. Shìrkùh (d. Jumàdà II 564/March 1169), uncle of Saladin. See e.g. EI 2, s.v. ‘Shìrkùh’ (D.S. Richards). 40 A adds: “Then they tried to resist him and oppose him”. 41 Lit. “the black and the red”. 42 Lit. “the rulers of the sons of al-Aßfar/the yellow one”. 43 The pronoun in takhlìdihà presumably refers to his authority in Egypt, al-dawla al-Mißriyya. 44 The “binding things” (awàßir) and “elements” ('anàßir) probably refer to family ties and origins. 45 Saladin. 46 Reading, with A, mu∂†aribat al-awà"il, since 'i†riyyat al-awà"il does not make sense and looks like a corruption. 47 The following three sentences are lacking in A.

    

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his rope48 and enabled them to abuse his justice, until the incentives of envy induced them to wrest authority from the claws of the lion. Then he gripped power with his right hand, confronting them with his left in his lair, until he destroyed them and cut short their passions.49 After that, they recuperated dangerously and their live coals burned amongst the people. But he leapt upon them like a bonecrushing50 lion and pounced upon them like a glowering hero, until he had expelled every mischief-maker and fighter and killed all vipers and scorpions. Then its (viz. Egypt’s) mountain passes were made smooth for him and its resistance was made to yield51 to his sword. Cairo became like the Garden of Delight, after having been a swamp in Blazes’ Midst.52 Now when the jewels on his thread were once again neatly strung and he had sat down on the throne of his reign, good fortune guided his family, all of them, from Syria, safe and sound, taking advantage of his nearness. Thereupon he profusely thanked the Lord of All Beings, saying, “Enter Egypt, if God wills, in security!”53 He raised his father on the throne and spread out cheeks on the ground for him by way of carpets. Someone who loved him recited to him:54 Kingship is smiling, after frowning, now that good Fortune serves it from all sides. Through the auspicious King Who Helps Towards Victory Egypt was saved from war and ruination. Joseph went forth in it like once its Joseph did: this son of Job resembles Jacob’s offspring.55

48

A rope (˙abl ) not to bind but to hold fast unto, as e.g. in Q 3:103. The literal meaning, ‘cut their livers’, may also be intended (one thinks of the refined method of execution by horizontal halving called tawsì†, practised in Saladin’s days). 50 kàsir; A has “teeth-baring, scowling” (kàshir). 51 Reading, with A, dhullat instead of z.llat. 52 Using Quranic expressions for Heaven and Hell. 53 As a latter-day Yùsuf/Joseph inviting his relations to come to him in Egypt, Saladin (whose name was Yùsuf ) is aptly made to quote Q 12:99. 54 A has, more informatively: “One of his servants recited to them in that position some congratulatory verses by the servant al-Wahrànì”. 55 The Old-Testament Joseph’s father was Jacob, Saladin’s father was called Ayyùb ( Job). 49

114

   

When56 the Most Virtuous King, Star of the Religion, the Sultan’s father,57 had arrived, Satan’s party58 was subdued through him and people were led back to their homes. Through him, God opened the gates of Heaven and through his blessing He raised the Lighthouse of the Sunna. He founded schools and assemblies, and erected mosques and shrines. Gifts poured from his hand so that the whole world benefited from charity. He made the tomb of imam Mu˙ammad b. Idrìs [al-Shàfi'ì] into a centre59 of studying and teaching jurisprudence. Through him the bonds of Islam were strengthened and through him the religion of our lord Mu˙ammad—benediction and peace be upon him—was consolidated. Thereupon the King Who Helps Towards Victory turned to religion and adorned it. He entered the house through its door60 and entrusted the matter to the proper authorities. He ordered that the ten noble and pious ones be mentioned, and pronounced their names openly on the pulpits,61 in the face of the spiteful and arrogant. Then, abandoning all doubtfulness and ambiguity, he prayed for the Abbasid caliphs, knowing that belief is not complete without their sovereignty (wilàya), and that Islam is not perfect without their supreme leadership (imàma).62 Thus the sons of Shàdì acquired a glorious position, they traversed the surface of the overflowing sea, and gained bliss in this world and the world to come. Their fame spread to all lands, people of impor-

56 Instead of this and the following six sentences (until ‘adorned it’) A has: “When the world-renouncing king, Najm al-Dìn, the fighting hero, sword of fighters for Islam, led the first Friday prayer, he made it four rak'as, not having found the congregation required by the Sunna [the editors explain that therefore the noon prayer was held as an afternoon prayer]. He found it difficult to abolish this and to eliminate this root and all. He began to lay the fundaments, showing the right path, and to extinguish the heretical innovations, making them disappear, until Islam was perfected and the religion of the Prophet, Peace be upon him, completed”. Version A thus gives more credit to Saladin’s father than does B, by not mentioning “the King Who Helps Towards Victory” (al-Malik al-Nàßir, viz. Saladin). 57 Al-Malik al-Af∂al Najm al-Dìn were the honorific names of Ayyùb b. Shàdì, who died in Dhù al-˙ijja 568/August 1173. 58 Q 58:19. 59 zàwiya literally means ‘corner’. 60 I.e. he went straight to the point. 61 The ten early Muslims to whom the Prophet promised Paradise according to Sunni opinion; see e.g. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-'Ashara al-mubashshara’ (A.J. Wensinck). The words “noble and pious” are from Q 80:16. 62 Instead of the last clause, A has: “and that pulpits are not right without their black banners; and because he had been nourished with their milk and had grown up in their beneficence”.

    

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tance flocked to them, both rulers and those that are ruled sought them, the rich and the poor visited them. They gave away land and inherited possessions, scattered money and positions until they shamed seas and disgraced rivers with their munificence. Through them the power of the monotheists63 was strengthened and the fires of the polytheists were extinguished. Thanks be to God, Lord of All Beings, for the good fortune of al-Musta∂ì" billàh (He Who is Illuminated by God), the Commander of the Believers.64 He said,65 And what do you say about the Just King (al-Malik al-'Àdil), Nùr al-Dìn? I replied, A well-aimed arrow to the dynasty, a strong cornerstone to the caliphate. An ascetic commander, a king who fights for Islam, assisted by the celestial spheres and served by armies and kings. And if he wished to conquer China, then its king would say, “At your command!”, just as the kings submitted to Alexikander.66

He said, Well said, by God! You have answered me and pleasantly surprised me. Then he recited: The days will show you what you did not know; you will be brought reports by someone you did not supply with provisions.67

63

Al-muwa˙˙idùn, here not the Almohads but the Sunnis. The Abbasid caliph al-Musta∂ì" acceded in Rabì' II 566/December 1170 and reigned until 575/1180. 65 The passage on Nùr al-Dìn, (until “to Alexikander”) is absent from A, which could mean that it is a later redaction, made after the relationship between Saladin and Nùr al-Dìn, or the latter’s family, had deteriorated. 66 Reading, for metrical reasons, malkuhù for malikuhù, which is normal. Stranger is the second hemistich, which does not scan unless one reads al-"Issikandar(ù), hence my rendering. 67 I.e. by someone whom you did not send out yourself. An often-quoted line from ˇarafa’s Mu'allaqa. 64

116

   

I said to him, Now you must tell me about the conduct of the caliph (al-imàm) these days.68 For I will return to people who believe that his sovereignty should be upheld as a binding duty, and that his supreme leadership is final and definitive. By loving him they seek God’s favour, they plead with God through his inviolability. He answered, What can I possibly say about the descendant of the Prophet’s uncle, God’s deputy (khalìfa) in His world, the trustee (waßiyy) of Adam over his progeny, the rightly-guided one (mahdì ) of his time, the Messiah (masì˙) of his period? His firm will is keener than a sword, his right hand produces more gifts than the clouds, his face is brighter than the moon on the night it is full. In him God has gathered the virtues and perfection that He scattered amongst many (earlier) caliphs. Thus he is like al-Saffà˙ in his prudence and determination, like al-Manßùr in his generosity and justice,69 like al-Mahdì in his authority and forcefulness, like al-Rashìd in his leadership and statecraft, like alAmìn in his munificence and pride, like al-Ma"mùn in his wise selfrestraint and knowledge, and like al-Mu'taßim in his gallantry and sternness. No wonder that the caliphate came to hover over him and threw its reins into his hands. They tried to divert it away from him, but it inclined towards him. Its canopies settled on him, its shade came to rest upon him. It fitted nobody but him, and he was fit for nothing else.70

His justice pervades the land, his virtue encompasses the world. Sun and moon are eclipsed by his light. With his justice he has revived the conduct of Abù Bakr and 'Umar. Through him the days have become fair and beautiful; through him his subjects have received above their expectations. God preserve him for Islam, guarding it, and God preserve him for this world and the religion.71

68

Al-Musta∂ì" (“insignificant”, K.V. Zetterstéen in EI 2, s.v.) is praised in the sources for his generosity. He preferred to keep aloof from public appearance. 69 Strangely, al-Manßùr is the only one left out in A. 70 Often-quoted line from a poem by Abù al-'Atàhiya for al-Mahdì, Dìwàn, Damascus, 1965, 612. 71 Not identified.

    

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Then I said, And what can you say about his vizier 'A∂ud al-Dìn?72 He said, A mountain of deep-rooted knowledge, a towering peak of intellect. An arrow of opinion that hits the mark, a star of penetrating justice. Scion of the Sasanid kings, son of crowns and knights; more generous than a pouring raincloud, braver than a lurking lion. When al-Mustanjid (may God sanctify his soul and illumine his tomb) took note of his devoutness and trustworthiness and became aware of his method and his true character, he entrusted him with all powers and put the reins of government into his hands. Thus the bow was taken by him who shaped it,73 and the house was occupied by its builder. Then I said, And what can you say about alighting at his door and asking for the rain of his clouds? He answered, By God, if you went to the door of the vizier he would let his copious downpour rain for you, which would enable you to go back to your homeland and no longer need your own ruler; it would disgrace in your view those princes that you would meet and put those viziers to shame that you would encounter.74

72 Ustàdh al-Dàr 'A∂ud al-Dìn Abù al-Faraj Mu˙ammad b. Abì al-Futù˙ 'Abd Allàh b. Hibat Allàh b. al-MuΩaffar Ra"ìs al-Ru"asà" (d. 573/1178) had caliph alMustanjid, predecessor and father of al-Musta∂ì", murdered in the bath and raised the son to the caliphate. Al-Musta∂ì" was forced to make 'A∂ud al-Dìn vizier; he was dismissed after one year, in 567/1171–72, then reinstated. See the short entry ‘'A∂ud al-Dìn, Abu ’l-Faradj’ in EI 2, referring to Ibn al-Athìr, al-Kàmil, Leiden, 1851–78, xi, 219 ff., and Ibn al-ˇiq†aqà, al-Fakhrì, Paris, 1894–95, 429–432; see also Ibn al-Jawzì, al-MuntaΩam, Hyderabad, x, 280, Ibn Kathìr, al-Bidàya wa-alnihàya, xii, 298, Ibn Wàßil, Mufarrij al-kurùb, Cairo, 1953, i, 194, 196, al-Íafadì, Wàfì, iii, 335, al-Dhahabì, Siyar, xxi, 75–77. Sib† b. al-Ta'àwìdhì dedicated many poems to him: Dìwàn, Cairo, 1903, 30, 43, 44, 112, 115, 118, 119, 123, 128, 144, 197, 232, 235, 244, 264, 268, 296, 298, 357, 381, 383, 402, 405, 466, 475, not mentioning the several poems on various relatives of his. 73 Proverb meaning that the right person took matters in hand. 74 A summary of this maqàma was published very recently: Katia Zakhari, ‘AlWahrànì, auteur de Maqàmas’, Arabica 49 (2002) 403–28 (see 406–13 on al-Maqàma al-Baghdàdiyya).

118

   

I said to him, Then, by God, I should thank him as the garden thanks the water, and praise him from earth to heaven; in particular if 75 he would accept for me from the caliph a superb robe of honour, from which I would derive light as from a firebrand and blessing when I wear it. I shall spread it over the lighthouse of Alexandria and clothe with it the pulpits of Almería; I shall stun with it my friends in Oran and express my eloquent gratitude to him in Tlemcen; I shall pray for him in Fez with my every breath and laud him in Aghmat until the day I die. He said, Rejoice, for your hope will be realised and your labour will have success. Have you made the acquaintance of anybody from the townspeople while you were here? I answered, I had heard about the City of Peace (Baghdad) that one cannot desire from its people other than peace. That suited my own inclination and matched what I surmised before I visited, lately, Jalàl alDìn, Head of the Diwan (Íà˙ib al-Dìwàn).76 I saw in him a person of great fairness, with perfect qualities, in whom perfection finds its final destination and in whom beauty is exalted: One must not deem it strange that God should gather all the world into one man.77

He fortified me with his wealth, sustained me with his provisions, and made me dispense with having to throw myself upon someone else’s mercy.

75

Reading, with A, in instead of an. He must be Jalàl al-Dìn Abù al-MuΩaffar Hibat Allàh b. Mu˙ammad b. Hibat Allàh b. al-Bukhàrì (d. 580/1184); see al-Íafadì, Wàfì, xxvii, 324 (wulliya al-naΩar wa-al-ßadriyya bi-Dìwàn al-zimàm). In the days of caliph al-Nàßir he acted as ‘vicevizier’ (wulliya niyàbat al-wizàra). Several poems by Sib† b. al-Ta'àwìdhì are dedicated to him (Dìwàn, 70, 179, 239, 248, 251, 288, 319, 333, 350). 77 An often-quoted line by Abù Nuwàs on the vizier al-Fa∂l b. al-Rabì', Dìwàn, Wiesbaden, 1958, i, 185. The reading 'alà llàhi (both in A and B) instead of the correct li-llàhi makes the line unmetrical. 76

    

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He stood up for my sake, when I had made him sit down;78 I slept, unconcerned about my needs, but he did not.79

He said, What do you think of his character and his discretion?80 I said, A sea bursting with knowledge, a star scintillating with intelligence. His virtue is evident and his deeds are pure; His disposition is like wine, mixed with cold and sweet water, or with saliva of one’s loved ones; His gracious nature gentler than a complaint(?),81 his speech sweeter than delusive wishes.82

He said, That is a tree that was planted by the deceased83 (God’s mercy be upon him) with his own hand. He cultivated it for his son, watering it with trustworthiness and nourishing it with religiousness, so that it became evident in its pith and fruit. From it “comes edible produce every season, by its Lord’s permission” (Q 14:25). If this person treats you with his wonted favour, you will attain what you hope for through his good fortune. Thereupon he bade me farewell and turned away, having sufficiently provided for me. Praise be to God, and His benedictions be upon His servants whom He has chosen.

78 To be taken metaphorically: “He supported me when I had burdened him with my request”. 79 From an epigram by Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. al-Nu'màn, quoted in al-Tha'àlibì, Yatìmat al-dahr, Cairo, 1947, i, 385. 80 fì nafsihi wa-˙issihi, which is better than A’s fì nafsihi wa-˙asabihi; cf. Dozy, Supplément, s.v. ˙iss. 81 One finds araqq min al-nasìm (thinner/more delicate than the breeze), or min raqràq al-saràb (than the shimmering of the mirage), or min ghirqì" al-bay∂ (than the membrane of an egg), min al-mà" (than water), min al-habà" (than floating dust particles) etc., but I do not know nor understand araqq min al-shakwà. 82 These lines have not been identified. 83 al-mar˙ùm; A has al-imàm al-mar˙ùm.


LES SOURCES D’IBN AL-'ADÌM SUR LE RÈGNE DE SAYF AL-DAWLA EN SYRIE DU NORD (333–356/944–967) Anne-Marie Eddé (Paris)

Les travaux de Marius Canard sur la dynastie hamdanide de Syrie du Nord1 ont révélé, il y a longtemps déjà, une abondante documentation, et l’étude des sources utilisées par l’historien alépin Kamàl al-Dìn Ibn al-'Adìm (m. 660/1262), pour la rédaction de son dictionnaire biographique, Bughyat al-†alab fì ta"rìkh Óalab,2 ne fait que confirmer la richesse de cette historiographie. On trouve, en effet, dans cet ouvrage, un nombre important de pages consacrées à des personnalités du règne de Sayf al-Dawla, poètes et hommes de lettres en particulier. Environ quatre-vingt-dix sources apparaissent au fil de ces biographies, chiffre impressionnant et significatif de l’érudition d’Ibn al-'Adìm, parmi lesquelles beaucoup sont aujourd’hui perdues. Des genres littéraires très variés sont représentés: ouvrages historiques (akhbàr, ta"rìkh, nécrologies), généalogiques, dictionnaires biographiques de Bagdadiens, de Damascains, de grammairiens, ouvrages de géographie, beaucoup de recueils de poésie et de commentaires poétiques, littérature d’adab. Les titres des ouvrages ne sont pas toujours indiqués, mais une mention telle que “j’ai lu sous la plume de . . .” (qara"tu bi-kha†† . . .) ou “j’ai recopié du livre . . .” (naqaltu min kitàb . . .), indique une source écrite alors que “un tel m’a raconté” ou “nous a rapporté” (˙addathanì ou akhbaranà ou anba"anà) indique 1 Cf. surtout M. Canard, Dynastie des H’amdanides, 16–49 et Recueil de textes relatifs à l’émir Sayf al-Dawla le Hamdanide, Alger, 1934. 2 Dictionnaire biographique inachevé mais aussi en grande partie perdu. Dix volumes, soit 2081 notices, sont conservés, de ‘A˙mad’ jusqu’à ‘Sa'ìd’ (avec des lacunes) ainsi que les notices de personnages connus sous leur kunya, nasab, laqab ou nisba. Ibn al-'Adìm dit lui-même qu’il a rédigé les notices de personnages qu’on ne retrouve pas dans son ouvrage (Bughya, x, 4566, 4584, 4740). Sur la Bughya, cf. Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’ et D. Morray, An Ayyubid Notable and his World. Ibn al-'Adìm and Aleppo as Portrayed in his Biographical Dictionary of People Associated with the City, Leyde, 1994. Cf. aussi I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt (extraits d’une trentaine d’auteurs cités par Ibn al-'Adìm dans la Bughya, toutes périodes confondues) et Th. Bianquis, ‘Pouvoirs arabes à Alep aux Xe et XIe siècles’, Revue du Monde Musulman et de la Méditerranée, 62, 1992–94, 49–59 (article largement fondé sur l’œuvre d’Ibn al-'Adìm).

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une transmission orale, c’est-à-dire un contact direct avec la personne, celle-ci pouvant soit lire (ou faire lire) un ouvrage devant un auditoire, soit tout simplement faire part d’une information.3 Quel que soit le mode de transmission, l’information, lorsqu’elle n’émane pas de témoins directs, est le plus souvent précédée d’une chaîne de transmetteurs scrupuleusement reproduite par Ibn al-'Adìm.4 Les auteurs apparaissent d’origine très variée: Iraniens, Irakiens, Syriens et Égyptiens pour la plupart. On compte parmi eux beaucoup de chiites, signe que cette littérature continuait de circuler au XIIIe siècle, malgré la réaction sunnite de la période précédente. Environ un tiers des sources sont anciennes (milieu Xe-premier quart du XIe) et presque autant sont contemporaines de l’auteur et émanent de ses professeurs, de ses collègues et amis, qui lui ont communiqué le plus souvent leurs informations oralement sans omettre la chaîne de transmission les garantissant. L’analyse de ces sources fournit des informations intéressantes sur la méthode historique d’Ibn al-'Adìm mais aussi des indications plus générales sur le travail des copistes. Ceux-ci ne se contentaient pas toujours de recopier un texte, mais s’attachaient aussi à l’établir, c’est-à-dire à en reconstituer la forme originelle, comme en témoigne ce passage de la biographie du père d’Abù Firàs, Sa'ìd b. Óamdàn: Une copie des poèmes d’Abù Firàs commentés par Abù 'Abd Allàh b. Khàlawayh, écrite de la plume d’Abù l-Madjd 'Abd Allàh b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Abì Djaràda, m’est [un jour] tombée sous la main. Sur cette copie figurait une mention rédigée par son fils Abù l-Óasan 'Alì b. 'Abd Allàh [Ibn Abì Djaràda]: “Mon père—que Dieu lui soit miséricordieux—a collationné cette copie à partir de quatre manuscrits en la rendant aussi véridique que possible. Elle est écrite de sa main. Je l’ai ensuite moi-même collationnée avec un cinquième manuscrit qui contenait de nombreux commentaires et j’en ai extrait des ajouts que j’ai recopiés dans les marges.5

Mais cette liste de sources nous renseigne surtout sur l’abondante production littéraire et historique que le règne de Sayf al-Dawla a 3 Sur ces deux modes de transmission, écrit et oral, cf. J. Sublet, ‘Le modèle arabe. Eléments de vocabulaire’, dans Madrasa. La transmission du savoir dans le monde musulman, éd. N. Grandin et M. Gaborieau, Paris, 1997, 13–27. 4 Cf. notre tableau en annexe avec toutes les références à la Bughya. Les sources ne rapportant que des hadith-s n’ont pas été relevées. 5 Cf. Bughya, ix, 4291. Sur Abù al-Madjd (m. v. 480/1087–88) et son fils Abù al-Óasan (m. 548/1153–54) parents éloignés d’Ibn al-'Adìm, cf. A.M. Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 636.

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engendrée et sur les ouvrages en circulation, dans cette première moitié du XIIIe siècle, et dont seule une partie nous est parvenue. Elle devrait nous permettre aussi de mieux comprendre l’image que l’on se faisait, à cette époque, de la dynastie hamdanide qui avait profondément marqué l’histoire de la Syrie du Nord, tant sur le plan militaire que sur le plan religieux et culturel. Nombreuses sont d’abord les citations qui concernent les lettrés et les poètes à la cour de Sayf al-Dawla, et en particulier al-Mutanabbì.6 Pour décrire ce milieu, Ibn al-'Adìm s’est beaucoup appuyé sur les écrits du grammairien bien connu, Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Óusayn I Kà (m. 370/980), originaire de Hamadhàn et formé à Bagdad. Nommé par Sayf al-Dawla précepteur de ses deux fils, il s’établit à Alep où il eut des querelles avec al-Mutanabbì qui sont restées célèbres.7 Les citations d’Ibn al-'Adìm concernent plusieurs poètes et quelques membres de la famille hamdanide. Elles sont extraites de son commentaire bien connu du Dìwàn d’Abù Firàs,8 mais aussi d’ouvrages moins répandus dont l’un était intitulé Kitàb A†raghashsh 9 et l’autre était un recueil de passages dictés (Amàlì ) avec des parties écrites de sa main. De ces deux manuscrits, aujourd’hui perdus, Ibn al-'Adìm a extrait des vers attribués à plusieurs poètes, ainsi que le récit de discussions de grammaire qui se déroulaient entre savants en présence du souverain. D’un ouvrage, dont il ne donne pas le titre, il a, en outre, tiré quelques indications sur les matières qu’Ibn Khàlawayh enseignait aux deux fils de Sayf al-Dawla: fiqh, adab et poésie arabe, en particulier celle d’al-Mutanabbì.10

6 La biographie d’al-Mutanabbì, particulièrement riche et intéressante (Bughya, ii, 639–686) fut d’abord éditée par Ma˙mùd Shàkir dans son ouvrage intitulé alMutanabbì, 2 vol., Le Caire, 1977, ii, 249–309. Elle fut abondamment utilisée dans l’article de l’Encyclopédie de l’Islam, 2e édition, ‘al-Mutanabbì’ (R. Blachère et Ch. Pellat). On trouvera une liste des poètes et lettrés qui vécurent à la cour de Sayf al-Dawla dans EI 2, s.v. ‘Sayf al-Dawla’ (Th. Bianquis), et dans R. Blachère, alMotanabbî, 123–143. 7 Cf., s.v. ‘Ibn Khàlawayh’ (A. Spitaler). Pour ses commentaires historiques du Dìwàn d’Abù Firàs, cf. Canard, Dynastie des H’amdanides (index). Cité dans la Bughya soit directement (cf. références dans notre tableau), soit (Bughya, ii, 668) d’après alBidàya wa al-nihàya fì l-ta"rìkh de 'Alì b. Murshid Ibn Munqidh (m. 545/1150) sur lequel cf. Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’, 668 et I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 17–138. 8 Ed. S. Dahhàn, 3 vol., Beyrouth, 1944. 9 Dans Ibn al-Nadìm, Fihrist, éd. Téhéran, 1971, 92, trad. B. Dodge, The Fihrist of Ibn al-Nadìm, 2 vol., New York-Londres, 1970, 184: Kitàb A†raghashsh lugha (Reviving language). Sur le sens d’a†raghashsha (guérir), cf. Lisàn al-'Arab, Beyrouth, 1956, vi, 311. 10 Cf. Bughya, ii, 640.

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Contemporain d’Ibn Khàlawayh, le cadi et secrétaire irakien AM˙ B. 'Aì A-Tùì (m. 384/994) fut à l’origine d’une importante tradition historique sur le règne de Sayf al-Dawla qui parvint jusqu’à Ibn al-'Adìm par des voies différentes résumées ci-dessous:11 Abù 'Alì al-Óasan al-Fàrisì (m. 377)

al-Mu˙assin al-Tanùkhì (m. 384)

'Alì b. al-Mu˙assin (m. 447)

Abù Ghàlib Mu˙ammad

Abù ˇàlib Mu˙. al-Wàsi†ì

al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì (m. 463)

Abù Manßùr Ibn Zurayq

Abù al-Fa∂l Abù al-Yumn Zayd al-Wàsi†ì al-Tàdjir al-Kindì (m. 613)

Ibn al-'Adìm

11

Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Bàqì

Ibn al-'Adìm

A˙mad b. Azhar al-Sabbàk

Ibn al-'Adìm

Sur al-Mu˙assin al-Tanùkhì, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Tanùkhì’ (H. Fähndrich).

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Les ouvrages connus d’al-Mu˙assin abondent en anecdotes sur la vie et les procédures de l’administration abbasside de son temps. Le portrait qu’il brosse d’al-Nàmì al-Mißßìßì, poète à la cour de Sayf al-Dawla, nous donne, de même, une bonne idée de l’atmosphère littéraire qui entourait ce prince et de quelques traits de son caractère: Abù 'Alì al-Mu˙assin b. 'Alì al-Tanùkhì a dit, d’après le secrétaire Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Íaqr, ceci: al-Nàmì était lent à penser et s’exprimait difficilement. Lorsqu’il voulait composer de la poésie, il s’isolait longtemps, des jours et des nuits durant. Si une servante ou un serviteur parlait, son inspiration s’interrompait et il manquait de les tuer. [. . .] C’est aussi ce que m’ont raconté d’autres personnes, poursuit Abù 'Alì al-Tanùkhì, [. . .] qui me dirent ceci: lorsqu’un événement impliquant Sayf al-Dawla survenait, une conquête, une bataille, la célébration d’une fête, etc., les poètes composaient des vers sur le champ ou dans les deux jours suivants. Mais al-Nàmì ne composait rien. Ce n’est qu’au bout de trois ou sept mois, parfois plus, parfois moins, selon les cas, qu’il venait trouver Sayf al-Dawla et lui demandait l’autorisation de lui réciter ses vers en disant: “Un poème m’a été inspiré par telle conquête ou par tel événement qui s’est déroulé à tel ou tel moment. Notre maître m’autorise-t-il à le lui réciter?” Al-Tanùkhì ajoute: Sayf al-Dawla le taquinait alors en disant: “A quel moment? De quel événement s’agit-il?” et il persistait à lui faire croire qu’il avait oublié cette affaire tant elle était ancienne, afin de le réprimander, jusqu’à l’amener au bord des larmes. Puis il lui disait: “Oui, oui, récite-le maintenant.” Mais souvent, il se mettait en colère, en raison de la longueur du temps écoulé depuis l’événement en question, et ne l’autorisait pas à réciter son poème.12

Outre les informations qu’il tenait de son père, 'Alì b. al-Mu˙assin al-Tanùkhì transmit aussi la tradition rapportée par Aù 'Aì AFàì (m. 377/987)13 qui séjourna quelque temps à la cour de Sayf al-Dawla. Ibn al-'Adìm, dans la biographie qu’il consacre à ce célèbre grammairien, ajoute qu’il a lui-même vu un certificat d’audition (samà' ), accordé à A˙mad Ibn Fàris,14 daté de djumàda I 347/juilletaoût 958, à Alep. Al-Fàrisì avait été envoyé, cette année-là, en ambassade à Sayf al-Dawla et avait eu des discussions avec un autre grammairien de sa cour qui furent à l’origine de ses Masà"il Óalab.

12

Cf. Bughya, iii, 1085–1086. Sur al-Nàmì, cf. infra n. 45. Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Fàrisì’ (C. Rabin). 14 Sans doute le philologue bien connu (m. 395/1004). Cf. Bughya, v, 2266 et infra n. 41. 13

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On peut remarquer, de même, dans cette chaîne de transmission historique, l’importance du savant bien connu, A-K†ì A-Bàì (m. 463/1071) auquel Ibn al-'Adìm eut surtout accès par l’intermédiaire du philologue et spécialiste du Coran Tàdj al-Dìn Aù A-Y A-Kì (m. 613/1217) qui fut son professeur à Damas.15 A-Kàà était le nom sous lequel étaient connus deux frères poètes de l’entourage de Sayf al-Dawla. C’est dans l’ouvrage de l’un de ses contemporains, le sharìf husaynide Sharaf al-Dìn Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad, qu’Ibn al-'Adìm a trouvé le récit détaillé de l’un des deux frères, Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad (m. 380/990), sur la mort d’al-Mutanabbì.16 Yàù A-Rùì (m. 626/1229) a, lui aussi, transmis de nombreux renseignements à Ibn al-'Adìm sur la cour littéraire de Sayf al-Dawla, en particulier sur al-Mutanabbì,17 d’après l’œuvre de plusieurs auteurs iraniens des Xe et XIe siècles. Parmi ceux-ci, on retiendra surtout les noms d’un secrétaire de chancellerie bouyide, A˙mad A-Îì, proche du vizir Ismà'ìl I 'Aà (m. 385/995),18 de 'Ubayd Allàh b. 'Abd al-Ra˙ìm A-Ißàì (m. ap. 379/989),19 d’A-R'ì (m. 420/1029)20 et d’A-Bìùì (m. 440/1048).21 Également intéressante est la description faite par Yàqùt, dans une lettre adressée à

15 Cf. L. Pouzet, Damas au VII e/XIII e siècle. Vie et structures religieuses dans une métropole islamique, Beyrouth, 1988, index (al-Kindì). La plupart des citations d’al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì figurent dans l’édition de son Ta"rìkh Baghdàd, Le Caire, 14 vol., 1931. 16 Cf. Bughya, ii, 682–685. Récit reproduit également par al-Badì'ì, Íub˙, 97 sq. Sur les deux frères et ce qui reste de leur œuvre, cf. Canard, Dynastie des H’amdanides, 18 et EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Khàlidiyyàni’ (Ch. Pellat). 17 Notice ne figurant pas dans le Mu'djam al-udabà" de Yàqùt, mais en partie reproduite par un compilateur du XVIIe siècle, qui vécut à Alep, Yùsuf al-Badì'ì, Íub˙, 33 sq. (éd. défectueuse d’après R. Blachère, al-Motanabbî, 290). Cf. Bughya, ii, 640, 644–645, 662–663, 672. 18 Sur al-Îabbì, cf. Blachère, al-Motanabbî, 270 et sur Ibn 'Abbàd, vizir et auteur de très nombreux ouvrages dans des domaines très divers, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn 'Abbàd’, (Cl. Cahen-Ch. Pellat). 19 Auteur d’un Wà∂i˙ fì mushkilàt shi'r al-Mutanabbì, éd. ˇàhir b. 'Àshùr, Tunis, 1968. Pour les passages cités par Ibn al-'Adìm, cf. pp. 7–10 (avec des variantes importantes qui indiquent qu’Ibn al-'Adìm a dû disposer d’un autre manuscrit que celui qui a été édité). Ibn al-'Adìm a, par ailleurs, consulté directement son histoire des poètes (Bughya, x, 4584). 20 Cf. infra n. 32. Ses ouvrages sont perdus. 21 En particulier sa lettre qui semble perdue intitulée al-Ta'allul bi-i˙àlat al-wahm fì ma'ànì naΩm ùlì l-fa∂l. Cf. D.J. Boilot, ‘L’œuvre d’al-Bìrùnì’, Mélanges de l’Institut Dominicain d’Etudes Orientales du Caire, 2, 1955, 161–256 (notamment 235) et EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Bìrùnì’ (D.J. Boilot).

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Ibn al-'Adìm, des jeux littéraires auxquels aimaient se livrer les poètes autour d’al-Mutanabbì, à Alep.22 Au cours de l’un de ses séjours à Bagdad, Ibn al-'Adìm trouva dans un waqf constitué par le calife al-Nàßir li-Dìn Allàh (575–622/ 1180–1225), un recueil (madjmù' ) datant de l’époque de Sayf al-Dawla ou légèrement postérieur. Il en recopia quelques pages dans lesquelles est évoqué l’amour du poète kilabite al-A'sar b. Muhàrish pour une jeune fille de la tribu des Banù Asad. L’intérêt de ce récit est de nous montrer l’importance des luttes tribales de ce temps-là, la place accordée à l’honneur des hommes, au courage, mais aussi à la poésie et aux poètes au sein des tribus arabes comme à la cour des princes.23 Abù al-Óasan 'Aì A-Sà†ì (m. ap. 377/987) est un philologue et poète chiite qui fréquenta la cour hamdanide de Mossoul et qui est connu pour être l’auteur d’au moins trois ouvrages cités par Ibn al-'Adìm. Seule son anthologie poétique, al-Anwàr wa-ma˙àsin al-ash'àr, est aujourd’hui conservée. De son Livre des couvents (Kitàb aldiyàràt) il ne reste plus que quelques citations dans le Mu'djam al-buldàn de Yàqùt24 et dans la Bughya d’Ibn al-'Adìm. De même, il subsiste quelques fragments de son ouvrage d’adab, al-Nuzah wa l-ibtihàdj, dans des sources postérieures. Pour le règne de Sayf al-Dawla, Ibn al-'Adìm a tiré, des deux premiers ouvrages, des vers du poète Abù ˇàlib al-Óusayn al-An†àkì al-Tamìmì et une remarque intéressante à propos d’un lettré de Manbidj, Abù al-Íaqr al-Zuhrì, qui lui dit avoir emporté les boiseries en pin du couvent Dayr Qinnisrì, sur la rive orientale de l’Euphrate, pour les placer dans le palais de Sayf al-Dawla à Alep.25 I A-Qà˙ (m. ap. 424/1033), connu aussi sous le nom d’alDawkhala, né à Alep en 351/962, l’année même où les Byzantins enlevaient Alep aux Hamdanides, était un traditionniste et grammairien surtout connu pour la lettre qu’il adressa au poète Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì à laquelle ce dernier répondit par sa fameuse Épître du pardon (Risàlat al-Ghufràn).26 Ibn al-Qàri˙ fut aussi précepteur des fils 22

Cf. Bughya, x, 4515. Cf. Bughya, iv, 1932–1941. 24 Yàqùt, Mu'djam al-buldàn, 5 vol., Beyrouth, 1955–57. 25 Cf. Bughya, vi, 2726; x, 4489. Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Shimshà†ì’ (W.P. Heinrichs). Pour les références à al-Shimshà†ì dans les ouvrages de Yàqùt et d’Ibn al-'Adìm, cf. Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 454–455. 26 Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Ma'arrì’ (P. Smoor) et R. Blachère, ‘Ibn al-Qàri˙ et la genèse 23

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des Banù al-Maghribì, famille d’origine persane, dont les membres occupèrent des positions administratives importantes dans plusieurs cours princières du Proche-Orient, notamment à Alep aux IVe/Xe et Ve/XIe siècles.27 Les passages de la lettre d’Ibn al-Qàri˙, cités dans la Bughya, dans lesquels transparaît la très mauvaise image qu’il avait du vizir Abù al-Qàsim al-Maghribì (m. 418/1027), sont connus et ne concernent pas le règne de Sayf al-Dawla. Ibn al-'Adìm le cite aussi à propos d’al-Mutanabbì, mais l’accuse aussitôt “d’ignorance historique”, car il ne lui a pas échappé qu’Ibn al-Qàri˙, citant le Ta"rìkh d’I Aì A-A (m. 325/937) et de 'Abd Allàh b. alÓusayn A-Q†ì, a confondu le poète al-Mutanabbì avec un homonyme iranien du début du Xe siècle.28 Par ailleurs, Abù al-Qàsim A-Ó B. 'Aì A-Mì (m. 418/1027), vizir du Bouride Musharraf al-Dawla, et petit-fils d’un secrétaire de Sayf al-Dawla, fut lui-même l’auteur d’un ouvrage sur l’éloquence des tribus arabes, Adab al-khawàßß fì ’l-mukhtàr min balàghat qabà"il al-'Arab, dont Ibn al-'Adìm a extrait des informations sur le poète al-Nàmì al-Mißßìßì.29 De son ouvrage intitulé Kitàb al-ma"thùr min mil˙ al-khudùr, Ibn al-'Adìm a également tiré des vers et quelques informations sur la famille hamdanide, et dans ses lettres (Rasà"il ) il a trouvé plusieurs passages intéressants sur le vizir et sa famille.30 Parmi les autres sources du XIe siècle sur les milieux littéraires, retenons encore le grammairien de Nihàwand, Abù al-Óasan 'Aì I Fù (m. ap. 437/1046), cité d’après son Kitàb al-tadjannì 'alà Ibn Djinnì qui est une réponse au commentaire d’al-Mutanabbì par Ibn Djinnì.31 De cet ouvrage, Ibn al-'Adìm a surtout retenu de l’Épître du Pardon d’al-Ma'arrì’, REI, 1941–46, 1–15, reproduit dans Analecta, Damas, 1975, 431–442. 27 Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Maghribì Banù’ (P. Smoor). 28 Cf. Bughya, ii, 653; Brockelmann, i, 154, S i, 250 et Ka˙˙àla, xii, 14 (Ibn Abì al-Azhar). Sur Ibn Abì al-Azhar et al-Qu†rabbulì, cf. I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 21–27. 29 Cet ouvrage a été partiellement édité par Óamad al-Djàsir, Riyad, 1980. Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Maghribì’, 1201b et la monographie d’I˙sàn 'Abbàs, Al-wazìr al-Maghribì, Amman, 1988. 30 De manière générale, Ibn al-'Adìm donne beaucoup d’informations sur cette famille al-Maghribì (en particulier, Bughya, vi, 2532–2555 et 2702–2706). Al-Maqrìzì (Muqaffà, iii, 536–560) consacre une longue notice à al-Maghribì et dit qu’il fut aussi l’auteur d’un livre sur la famille hamdanide et sur leur poésie. Cf. la monographie d’I˙sàn 'Abbàs citée infra dans la bibliographie p. 24–34 (liste de ses ouvrages) et 163 sq (édition des lettres qui nous sont parvenues). 31 Sur Ibn Fùrradja, cf. Ka˙˙àla, ix, 10; Brockelmann, i, 88 (un manuscrit du Kitàb al-Tadjannì à l’Escurial). Son autre critique d’Ibn Djinnì est publiée sous le titre al-Fat˙ 'alà Abì l-Fat˙, éd. Ghayyàd, al-Mawrid, 2, 1973 et 6/3, 213–236.

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quelques anecdotes sur al-Mutanabbì, ses pouvoirs miraculeux, sa chasteté, la beauté de sa poésie et son avarice. Le grammairien bagdadien Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. 'Ìsà A-R'ì (m. 420/1029) qui rencontra al-Mutanabbì à Shìràz, fut aussi l’auteur d’une critique d’Ibn Djinnì intitulée Kitàb al-tanbìh 'alà akh†à" Ibn Djinnì dont Ibn al-'Adìm tira, soit directement soit à travers Yàqùt, quelques renseignements sur l’origine du nom d’al-Mutanabbì et sur son séjour à Shìràz.32 Dans l’ouvrage, aujourd’hui perdu, du secrétaire bagdadien Abù al-Óasan Mu˙ammad b. 'Aì I Nß (m. 437/1045), intitulé Ki†àb al-Mufàwa∂a li ’l-Malik al-'Azìz Djalàl al-Dawla Abì Manßùr b. Abì ˇàhir b. Buwayh, Ibn al-'Adìm a trouvé plusieurs citations d’Abù al-Faradj 'Abd al-Wà˙id A-Bàà" (m. 397/1007), poète à la cour de Sayf al-Dawla à Alep.33 Ce dernier décrit notamment le plaisir que prenait le prince hamdanide à taquiner ses poètes, confirmant ainsi le témoignage déjà cité d’al-Mu˙assin al-Tanùkhì: Sayf al-Dawla plaisantait beaucoup avec [Abù al-Qàsim Naßr] alShayΩamì qu’il taquinait sans cesse et ce dernier s’en amusait et le supportait. Abù al-Faradj nous dit: Nous nous trouvions, une nuit, en compagnie de Sayf al-Dawla lorsqu’al-ShayΩamì entra. Sayf al-Dawla dit alors:—“Voyez comment je vais le rendre fou et le faire partir”, puis il s’adressa à lui quand il se présenta:—“Est-ce une heure pour rendre visite aux princes? Que s’est-il passé pour que tu viennes à cette heure-ci?” et il ne cessa de le réprimander et de lui manifester son mécontentement. Lorsqu’al-ShayΩamì entendit cela, il voulut s’en retourner. Sayf al-Dawla lui dit:—“Où vas-tu?”—“Je m’en vais car j’ai atteint mon but et obtenu ce que je voulais”.—“C’est-à-dire?”—“Je suis venu pour te mettre en colère et tu t’es mis en colère. Je n’ai donc plus rien à faire ici”. Abù al-Faradj dit: Sayf al-Dawla rit à en tomber par terre, puis il dit:—“Par ma vie, as-tu un poème?” AlShayΩamì lui répondit affirmativement et lui récita son poème.34

32 Cf. Bughya, ii, 640–641, 671. Sur al-Raba'ì, cf. Ka˙˙àla, vii, 163; EI 2, s.v. ‘alRaba'ì’ (G. Troupeau) et s.v. ‘al-Mutanabbì’ (R. Blachère-Ch. Pellat). Ses ouvrages sont aujourd’hui perdus, mais on peut en trouver quelques citations dans l’ouvrage d’al-Badì'ì, Íub˙ (d’après Blachère, al-Motanabbî, XIX). 33 Sur Mu˙ammad Ibn Naßr auquel Ibn al-'Adìm a emprunté de nombreuses citations relatives aux milieux littéraires en Irak, notamment, cf. I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 289–324; Ibn al-'Imàd, v, 115; Ibn Khallikàn, iii, 192, 222. Des extraits du Kitàb al-Mufàwa∂a et d’al-Babbàghà" sur al-Mutanabbì se trouvent aussi dans al-Badì'ì, Íub˙ (d’après Blachère, Motanabbî, XVIII). Sur al-Babbàghà", cité également par alTha'àlibì, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Babbàghà"’ (R. Blachère). 34 Cf. Bughya, x, 4587.

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Le secrétaire Ibn Naßr cite aussi plusieurs fois l’astrologue de Sayf al-Dawla, Aù A-Qà A-Rì, dont le témoignage est intéressant non seulement par sa description des discussions littéraires, mais aussi par ce qu’il nous dit de la participation des poètes aux campagnes militaires.35 C’est par l’intermédiaire de l’un de ses contemporains, le cadi Djamàl al-Dìn Abù al-Qàsim 'Abd al-Íamad I A-Óàì (m. 614/1218), qu’Ibn al-'Adìm a eu accès aux informations d’un autre homme de lettres bien connu du XIe siècle: Abù Manßùr AT'àì (m. 429/1038), auteur de la fameuse anthologie de prose et de poésie, Yatìmat al-dahr fì ma˙àsin ahl al-'aßr, plusieurs fois citée dans la Bughya pour des biographies de poètes.36 De même, dans le Dhayl Ta"rìkh Baghdàd de son ami irakien Mu˙ammad I A-Nà (m. 643/1245) Ibn al-'Adìm a trouvé quelques informations sur un poète, originaire de Djazìrat Ibn 'Umar, qui fréquenta la cour de Sayf al-Dawla.37 Enfin, deux vizirs d’Alep, contemporains d’Ibn al'Adìm, Djamàl al-Dìn 'Abd al-Wà˙id I A-Óß (m. 597/1201) et son successeur NiΩàm al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. al-Óusayn A-ˇà"ì (m. 607/1210) lui ont permis d’ajouter quelques vers de poésie aux biographies d’un secrétaire de Sayf al-Dawla et du père d’Abù Firàs. Peu importantes en elles-mêmes, ces citations témoignent néanmoins de l’activité littéraire de certains vizirs de l’époque ayyoubide.38 Sur les grammairiens de renom, Abù 'Alì al-Fàrisì (m. 377/987) et Abù Sa'ìd al-Óasan al-Sìràfì (m. 368/979), qui séjournèrent auprès de Sayf al-Dawla, Ibn al-'Adìm a parfois obtenu des informations orales auprès de grammairiens alépins, tel Tàdj al-Dìn A˙mad I A-Dàì (m. 628/1230–31).39 Aù A-Y A-Kì, qui fut, comme nous l’avons dit, son professeur à Damas, lui fit connaître

35 Cf. les extraits d’Ibn Naßr relevés dans la Bughya et dans le dictionnaire biographique de Yàqùt par I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 306–309. 36 Cf. Bughya, ii, 652; iii, 1084, 1111; v, 2475; vi, 2530; x, 4512. EI 2, s.v. ‘alTha'àlibì’ (E.K. Rowson). Sur l’importance d’al-Tha'àlibì pour la biographie d’alMutanabbì, cf. Blachère, Motanabbî, 274. Sur Ibn al-Óarastànì, cf. Pouzet, supra n. 15 (index). 37 Les sources d’Ibn al-Nadjdjàr sont du XIe siècle: Hilàl al-Íàbi" (m. 448/1056) et A˙mad al-Thabàtì (m. 447/1055, cf. Ka˙˙àla, i, 283). Sur Ibn al-Nadjdjàr, source d’Ibn al-'Adìm, cf. Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’, 303. Cf. aussi EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn alNadjdjàr’ (C.E. Farah). 38 Sur ces deux vizirs, cf. Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 311–312. Sur les citations de Djamàl al-Dìn postérieures au Xe siècle, cf. I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 153–159. 39 Sur ce grammairien cf. Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 371 et fig. 26.

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un ouvrage du philologue Abù Manßùr Mawhùb A-Dàì (m. 539/1144) dans lequel Ibn al-'Adìm trouva un témoignage peu connu d’Abù al-Fat˙ al-MuΩaffar I Bàn al-Dimashqì (m. 385/ 995) sur Abù 'Alì al-Fàrisì.40 Parmi les autres ouvrages de grammairiens consultés par Ibn al-'Adìm, retenons encore le témoignage d’Abù Mu˙ammad A-Ó I Fà al-Lughawì d’après son frère le célèbre philologue Abù al-Óusayn A˙ I Fà (m. 395/1004),41 l’ouvrage d’Abù al-Óasan Sà B. 'Aì B. Tì A-Óì (m. ap. 465/1072) intitulé Mukhtaßar Ta"rìkh al-na˙wiyyìn li-Mu˙ammad b. alÓasan al-Zubaydì, qui était un résumé du dictionnaire des grammairiens d’al-Zubaydì al-Ishbilì (m. 379/989)42 ou bien encore celui de Sa'ìd b. al-Mubàrak I A-Dà (m. 569/1174), grammairien bagdadien et auteur d’un commentaire en quarante-trois volumes du I∂à˙ d’Abù 'Alì al-Fàrisì.43 Enfin, pour la biographie du grammairien al-Sìràfì, Ibn al-'Adìm, comme Yàqùt, a utilisé une autre source très importante, aujourd’hui disparue, qui est la Risàlat fì taqrìΩ Abì 'Uthmàn 'Amr b. Ba˙r al-Djà˙iΩ d’Abù Óayyàn A-T˙ìì (m. v. 414/1023).44 Pour parler des poètes de la cour de Sayf al-Dawla, Ibn al-'Adìm s’est parfois servi directement de leurs recueils de poésie (Dìwàn). C’est ainsi qu’il cite à plusieurs reprises des vers d’A-Mì et d’Aù Fà faisant l’éloge de Sayf al-Dawla, à l’occasion d’une bataille ou de la reconstruction d’une place frontière. Il eut aussi entre les mains trois ouvrages du poète A-Nàì al-Mißßìßì (m. en 370 ou 371/980–82):45 un recueil d’Amàlì dictées à Alep, un ouvrage de prosodie intitulé al-Muqni' et son Dìwàn. L’un de ces poètes, Abù al-Óasan Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad A-Mì (m. ap. 354/965) fut l’auteur d’un Kitàb al-Intißàr al-munabbì 'an fa∂à"il al-Mutanabbì, ouvrage

40 Cf. Bughya, v, 2268–2271. Sur al-Djawàlìqì, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Djawàlì˚ì’ (H. Fleisch). Sur Ibn Burhàn, cf. Ka˙˙àla, xii, 297. 41 Cf. Bughya, v, 2450. Sur A˙mad Ibn Fàris, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn Fàris’ (H. Fleisch). 42 Cf. Bughya, v, 2446. Sur al-Zubaydì, philologue connu, cf. Ka˙˙àla, ix, 198. 43 Cf. Bughya, v, 2271. Sur Ibn al-Dahhàn, cf. Ka˙˙àla, iv, 229; Brockelmann, i, 281. Ibn al-'Adìm s’est également servi d’un ouvrage sur les grammairiens du cadi chiite de Baalbek Abù al-Ma˙àsin al-Mufa∂∂al al-Ma'arrì (m. v. 442/1050 à Damas). Cf. Bughya, v, 2274 et Ka˙˙àla, xii, 315–316. 44 Traité faisant l’éloge d’al-Djà˙iΩ. Cf. Bughya, v, 2447 et EI 2, ‘Abù Óayyàn’ (S.M. Stern). 45 Poète-épistolier à la cour de Sayf al-Dawla. Cf. Ka˙˙àla, ii, 100 et Blachère, Motanabbî, 133. Ses ouvrages ne semblent pas avoir survécu.

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dont Ibn al-'Adìm a extrait cette citation sur le grammairien Abù Sa'ìd al-Óasan al-Sìràfì (m. 368/979): Je crois que c’est Ibn al-Khazzàz al-Warràq (fabricant de papier), dans le quartier d’al-Karkh à Bagdad, ainsi que Abù Bakr al-Qan†arì et Abù al-Óusayn al-Khuràsànì, deux autres fabricants de papier, parmi les plus importants, qui m’ont dit ceci: Lorsqu’Abù Sa'ìd voulait vendre un livre, avec le désir d’en tirer un bénéfice étant donné ses maigres moyens, il le faisait copier par l’un de ses élèves et écrivait à la fin du livre, même s’il n’en avait pas lu une seule lettre: “al-Óasan b. 'Abd Allàh a dit: ce livre a été lu sous ma direction et il est véridique”, afin qu’il soit vendu à un prix plus élevé.46

Si les renseignements donnés par Ibn al-'Adìm sur la cour littéraire de Sayf al-Dawla sont nombreux, ceux qui concernent la vie militaire, la famille princière, les milieux religieux et administratifs n’en sont pas moins intéressants. Parmi les sources les plus anciennes, AÍùì (m. 336/947), homme de lettres et compagnon de cour des califes abbassides, est connu pour être l’auteur d’une chronique (Kitàb al-awràq) dont une partie seulement est parvenue jusqu’à nous.47 Ibn al-'Adìm l’a connu à travers le cheikh Abù Raw˙ 'Abd al-Mu'izz A-Hì (m. 618/1221).48 On peut trouver dans la Bughya plusieurs citations intéressantes sur le IIIe/IXe siècle, mais celles qui concernent les Hamdanides à Alep n’ont pas de véritable originalité, car elles sont toutes conservées dans les extraits édités d’al-Íùlì.49 Au Xe siècle toujours, un disciple d’al-ˇabarì, originaire de Baßra, nommé Abù Is˙àq Ibràhìm A-S†ì (m. ap. 353/964), fut l’auteur de trois ouvrages intitulés Lawàmi' al-umùr, Kitàb al-radìf et Ta"rìkh. Il devait s’agir de chroniques avec des nécrologies.50 Ibn al-'Adìm en a tiré des informations sur des poètes, la date de mort du secrétaire A˙mad b. Naßr al-Bàziyàr et les circonstances de la mort d’Abù al'Ashà"ir al-Óusayn, cousin de Sayf al-Dawla:

46 Cf. Bughya, 2447 et Yàqùt, Mu'djam al-udabà", viii, 188–190 (même récit plus détaillé). Ka˙˙àla, ix, 18. Al-Maghribì vécut à Alep, Bagdad et Rayy. Ses ouvrages sont aujourd’hui perdus. Cf. Blachère, al-Motanabbî, 227 et 273–274. 47 Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Íùlì’ (S. Leder) et ajouter Hilàl al-Nàdjì, Qi†'a nàdira min kitàb al-Awràq: ßaf˙a madjhùla min ta"rìkh al-'Iràq li-Abì Bakr al-Íùlì, Bagdad, 1990 et Mà lam yunshar min Awràq al-Íùlì: akhbàr al-sanawàt 295–315 H, Beyrouth, 2000. Cf. aussi Kitàb al-Awràq, éd. A.B. Chalidov, Saint-Pétersbourg, 1996. 48 Né en 520 à Hérat et auteur d’une mashyakha. Cf. Dhahabì, Siyar, xxii, 114–115. 49 Cf. al-Íùlì, Akhbàr al-Rà∂ì billàh wa ’l-Muttaqì billah, trad. M. Canard, 2 vol., Alger, 1946–50, ii, 57, 59, 116 et I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 403–427. 50 Sur al-Saqa†ì, cf. Ka˙˙àla, i, 19.

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J’ai lu dans l’Histoire (Ta"rìkh) d’Abù Is˙àq Ibràhìm b. Óabìb al-Saqa†ì, auteur du Kitàb al-radìf, dans les événements de l’année 352/963, dans la partie nécrologique ceci: Cette année-là, ou bien en 353/964, Abù al-'Ashà"ir al-Óusayn b. 'Alì b. al-Óusayn b. Óamdàn mourut en captivité, sur le territoire byzantin, d’empoisonnement. La raison de cet empoisonnement fut la suivante: Lorsque le roi-tyran apprit que 'Alì b. Óamdàn avait corrompu le fils de Constantin qui était son prisonnier, on envoya du territoire byzantin quelqu’un pour empoisonner ce dernier et il mourut. Les Byzantins, de leur côté, furieux d’avoir dû tuer le fils de Constantin, empoisonnèrent Abù al-'Ashà"ir. Ce dernier était un cavalier courageux, généreux et couvert d’éloges.51

Plusieurs personnages de la célèbre famille des Íàbi", qui joua au Xe siècle un rôle important auprès des califes abbassides, sont cités par Ibn al-'Adìm.52 Abù al-Óasan Tà B. Sà A-Íà" (m. v. 365/976), médecin de plusieurs califes à Bagdad, fut l’auteur d’une Histoire allant de 295/907 à l’année de sa mort. De cet ouvrage connu par les citations d’auteurs postérieurs, Ibn al-'Adìm a extrait des informations nécrologiques sur Nàßir al-Dawla, frère de Sayf alDawla, et sur ses émirs, Dizbar b. Uwaynim et Rashìq al-Nasìmì. Hà B. A-M˙ A-Íà" (m. 448/1056), le premier de la famille à se convertir à l’islam, fut directeur du bureau de la chancellerie, à Bagdad, et auteur de plusieurs ouvrages. Ibn al-'Adìm en cite deux: son Histoire (Ta"rìkh) qui continuait celle de son aïeul jusqu’en 447/1055–56 et qui n’est conservée que pour les années 389–393/999–1003 et son Kitàb al-wuzarà" dont seul le début nous est parvenu sur la période des vizirs d’al-Muqtadir (295–320/908–32).53 Le troisième membre de la famille, cité par Ibn al-'Adìm, est AM˙ B. Iàì A-Íà" (m. 410/1010). C’est Yàqùt qui a raconté à Ibn al-'Adìm qu’il avait lu, sous la plume d’al-Mu˙assin, le récit de la fortune soudaine du poète al-Sarì b. A˙mad al-Raffà" al-Mawßilì (m. 362/972–73) qui avait dû quitter la cour de Sayf alDawla pour aller vivre misérablement à Bagdad: J’entendis le poète al-Sarì b. A˙mad dire un jour à mon père Abù Is˙àq alors que nous étions en train de boire: “O maître, je voudrais

51

Cf. Bughya, vi, 2532. Sur toute cette famille, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘Íàbi" ’ (F.C. De Blois). 53 Les extraits de la Bughya sur al-Mutanabbì et sur Abù Sa'ìd al-Sìràfì (m. 368/979) sont donc originaux. Sur Hilàl al-Íàbi", cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘Hilàl al-Íàbi"’ (D. Sourdel) et M. Canard, Dynastie des H’amdanides, 20. Hilàl est parfois cité d’après le témoignage de son fils Abù al-Óasan Mu˙ammad Ghars al-Ni'ma (m. 480/1088). 52

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-  posséder mille dirhams et mourir!” Mon père lui dit: “Compose un long poème faisant l’éloge du vizir”, c’est-à-dire Abù al-Fa∂l al-'Abbàs b. al-Óusayn al-Shìràzì. Al-Sarì composa un long poème avec une rime en mìm que mon père récita au vizir en lui disant: “Les vers de ce poète vont devenir célèbres, l’on continuera longtemps d’évoquer son nom et ses espoirs reposent sur toi.” Il lui tint ce discours et demeura auprès de lui jusqu’au jour où le vizir lui remit 3000 dirhams d’une valeur de 200 dinars. Je pris l’argent, al-Sarì demeurant alors chez moi, dans ma maison, mais je ne l’en informai pas. Puis lorsque nous nous retrouvâmes pour boire, mon père me demanda d’apporter le sac, ce que je fis. Quand al-Sarì le vit, il manqua mourir de bonheur. Il ne dormit pas cette nuit-là tant il était heureux. Au matin, il prit les dirhams et s’en alla, puis il revint me voir après plusieurs jours d’absence. Il était vêtu de vêtements luxueux, en particulier d’un turban long d’environ 100 coudées et d’un vêtement aux manches amples qui traînait sur le sol. Un esclave imberbe le suivait vêtu des mêmes habits que lui. Nous fûmes pris de rire sans pouvoir nous arrêter. Il mourut quelques jours plus tard.54

Plus difficiles à dater sont les informations puisées par Ibn al-'Adìm dans une histoire du règne de Sayf al-Dawla (Akhbàr Sayf al-Dawla) rédigée par un certain Abù al-Óasan 'Alì A-Dì.55 C’est 'Imàd al-Dìn 'Alì b. al-Qàsim Ibn 'Asàkir (m. 616/1219), petit-fils du grand historien et traditionniste damascain, qui remit, un jour, à Ibn al'Adìm cet ouvrage qui semble avoir aujourd’hui disparu. Rien n’indique à quelle époque vivait son auteur, mais son intérêt pour la dynastie hamdanide laisse supposer qu’il s’agit plutôt d’un auteur contemporain ou légèrement postérieur aux événements qu’il décrit. Les passages conservés par Ibn al-'Adìm concernent le différend d’alMutanabbì et d’Ibn Khàlawayh à Alep, l’emprisonnement d’Abù al'Ashà"ir par les Byzantins en 345/956, le rôle du sharìf chiite al-Óasan b. ˇàhir (m. 336/947–8) dans les négociations entre l’Ikhshìd et Sayf al-Dawla, en 334/945, et l’entourage littéraire de Sayf al-Dawla, autant d’informations intéressantes, même si elles n’apparaissent pas toujours fiables. En effet, dans l’affaire d’Abù al-'Ashà"ir, al-Daylamì se trompe d’une année en situant sa bataille contre les Byzantins en 344 au lieu de 345. Est-il plus proche de la vérité quand il écrit que, face aux Byzantins, Abù al-'Ashà"ir ne fut pas à la hauteur parce qu’il s’était enivré et était tombé de cheval? En tout cas, ajoute

54 55

Cf. Bughya, ix, 4205. Sur al-Sarì, cf. Canard, ‘Quelques aspects’, 169 sq. Je n’ai pas pu trouver d’informations sur cet auteur.

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Ibn al-'Adìm, al-Daylamì a tort d’affirmer qu’Abù al-'Ashà"ir faisait partie des prisonniers délivrés par Sayf al-Dawla en 354/965, car en réalité, il mourut en captivité à Constantinople.56 D’un autre ouvrage historique intitulé al-Ta"rìkh al-mudjaddad, rédigé dans la seconde moitié du Xe siècle par un auteur damascain appelé Abù al-Óasan Mu˙ammad b. al-'Abbàs al-Kinànì A-Dì, Ibn al-'Adìm a tiré la plus grande partie de la biographie d’un sharìf poète alépin, Abù al-Qàsim A˙mad b. al-Óusayn Ibn al-Sakràn alAf†as al-An†àkì qui vécut sous le règne de Sayf al-Dawla et fut même emprisonné par ce dernier après la révolte d’Antioche en 354/965. Le sharìf, sujet de la notice, raconta lui-même à Abù al-Óasan alDimashqì le récit suivant: Je fus obligé de verser l’impôt foncier (kharàdj ) dont j’étais redevable à Óàrim et au sujet duquel on me poursuivit jusqu’à ce que je vendisse les bijoux de l’une de mes filles afin de pouvoir le payer. Puis, un jour, je partis à cheval retrouver un groupe d’ashràf et de secrétaires, sur la route de l’hippodrome à Alep. Un bédouin, à qui Sayf alDawla avait remis un vêtement d’honneur et un collier d’or, passa à proximité de nous. Je dis à mes compagnons: “Je vais vous montrer les bijoux de ma fille. Ils sont dans ce collier que ce bédouin porte autour du cou. Sayf al-Dawla les a pris, sans aucun droit, et les a dépensés en les détournant de leur but.” L’une des personnes présentes rapporta ce propos à Sayf al-Dawla qui me rendit alors l’impôt que j’avais versé.57

Parmi les sources égyptiennes, d’époque fatimide, l’historien Abù Mu˙ammad al-Óasan I Zùà (m. 386/996) fut l’auteur de plusieurs ouvrages sur l’Égypte à l’époque des Ikhshidides et des premiers fatimides qui ont pour la plupart disparu. Ibn al-'Adìm s’est beaucoup servi de sa biographie consacrée à l’Ikhshìd intitulée Sìrat al-Ikhshìd Mu˙ammad b. ˇughdj dans laquelle transparaît notamment le rôle du sharìf al-Óasan b. ˇàhir dans les négociations entre l’Ikhshìd et Sayf al-Dawla en 334/945.58 Ibn al-'Adìm a également eu entre

56

Cf. Bughya, vi, 2528, 2531. Cf. Bughya, x, 4592–4593. 58 Négociations qui aboutirent au mariage de Sayf al-Dawla avec la fille de l’Ikhshìd (dans Zubda, i, 115, c’est avec sa nièce que le mariage est conclu). Cf. Bughya, v, 2409–2412; Canard, Dynastie des H’amdanides, 584. Ibn al-'Adìm a utilisé deux autres ouvrages d’Ibn Zùlàq: Sìrat A˙mad Ibn ˇulùn et Sìrat Abì ’l-Djaysh Khumàrawayh (cf. I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 209–219). Ibn Zùlàq est souvent cité par alMaqrìzì. Cf. Brockelmann, i, 156, S i, 230; EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn Zùlà˚’ (Réd.) et R. Gottheil, ‘Al-Óasan ibn Ibràhìm ibn Zùlà˚’, Journal of the American Oriental Society, 28, 1907, 57

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les mains un ouvrage faisant l’éloge d’un secrétaire fatimide des califes al-Mu'izz (341–65/953–75) et al-'Azìz (365–86/975–96), appelé Abù Dja'far Mu˙ammad b. al-Óusayn b. al-Muhadhdhab, dont il a tiré quelques vers d’un poète, Abù al-Qàsim al-Óusayn Ibn Kawdjak, qui fut un temps au service de Sayf al-Dawla.59 Enfin Ibn al-'Adìm connaissait l’historien Mu˙ammad A-M˙ì (m. 420/1030) dont il cite la grande histoire d’Égypte sous le titre Ta"rìkh ou bien encore Mukhtàr min akhbàr Mißr. Il en a surtout extrait des passages poétiques, notamment un long poème d’A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad al-'Uqaylì (m. 385/995) à propos d’une bataille contre les Byzantins.60 Du Ta"rìkh de Hammàm b. al-Fa∂l Aù Gà A-M'ì, historien dont les dates exactes sont inconnues mais qui dut vivre dans la première moitié du Ve/XIe siècle,61 Ibn al-'Adìm tira des informations sur plusieurs personnages de l’entourage de Sayf al-Dawla, sur le rachat des prisonniers musulmans en 354/965 et sur la révolte d’Antioche sous la direction d’Ibn al-Ahwàzì, fermier des impôts, et de Rashìq al-Nasìmì, ancien préfet de Tarse.62 Ibn al-'Adìm connaissait aussi l’ouvrage historique de l’arrière grand-père d’Abù Ghàlib, appelé Abù al-Óusayn 'Aì B. A-M (première moitié du Xe siècle), qui lui fournit plusieurs informations sur des personnages de la fin du IXe et du début du Xe siècle.63 Parmi les ouvrages du début du XIIe siècle, celui d’Abù al-Óasan

254–270. Maqrìzì (Muqaffà, iii, 284–286) dit qu’Ibn Zùlàq était un faqìh hanafite avec des sympathies chiites. 59 Cf. Bughya, vi, 2676. 60 Cf. Bughya, iii, 1097. Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Mußabbi˙ì’ (Th. Bianquis). De l’histoire d’Égypte, il ne subsiste aujourd’hui que peu de choses (une partie des années 414–15/1023–25, éd. A.F. Sayyid et Th. Bianquis, IFAO, Le Caire, 1978 et W.J. Milward, Le Caire, 1980). 61 Dans la biographie d’A˙mad b. al-Óusayn al-Taghlabì al-Aßfar, aventurier emprisonné à Alep en 395/1004–5, al-Ma'arrì dit l’avoir vu à Alep en 406/1015–16 (Bughya, ii, 699). Il connut aussi le poète Abù 'Alà" al-Ma'arrì (m. 449/1058) qui lui donna des informations sur le grammairien Abù 'Alì al-Fàrisì (Bughya, v, 2272). La citation la plus tardive qu’on lui connait date de 454/1062 (Yàqùt, Mu'djam albuldàn, Beyrouth, 1957, v, 108). Sur lui, cf. Cahen, Syrie du Nord, 44, l’introduction d’I. Za'rùr à l’édition du Ta"rìkh d’al-'AΩìmì (cf. infra n. 65), 12–13 et I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 93–109. 62 Cf. Bughya, vi, 2706, viii, 3658. Sur ces événements, cf. Canard, H’amdanides, 650–654, 823–824. Ces informations furent reprises par Ibn al-'Adìm dans son histoire d’Alep (Zubda, I, 148) sans aucune indication de source. D’autres passages de la Zubda sont également inspirés d’Abù Ghàlib al-Ma'arrì, tels ceux qui concernent A˙mad al-Taghlabì al-Aßfar cité dans la note précédente (Zubda, I, 196). 63 Cf. Bughya, ii, 761, 819; iii, 1047, 1076.

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Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Malik A-Hàì (m. 521/1127) intitulé 'Unwàn (ou 'Uyùn) al-siyar fì ma˙àsin ahl al-badw wa ’l-˙a∂ar, a fourni des renseignements à Ibn al-'Adìm sur plusieurs membres de la famille hamdanide.64 La chronique d’A-'AΩìì (m. 556/1161) est également citée à plusieurs reprises, notamment pour la révolte d’Antioche en 354–5/965–66. La comparaison entre la version connue d’al-'AΩìmì et les citations d’Ibn al-'Adìm montre que celui-ci disposa d’un texte beaucoup plus complet que le résumé parvenu jusqu’à nous.65 Les informations fournies par le grand traditionniste damascain Abù al-Qàsim I 'Aà (m. 571/1176) ont été transmises à Ibn al-'Adìm par le cadi chafiite damascain Shams al-Dìn Abù Naßr Mu˙ammad I A-Sìàì (m. 635/1238),66 par Sulaymàn b. alFa∂l I A-Bààì ou par l’intermédiaire de ses deux neveux, Tàdj al-Umanà" A˙ I 'Aà (m. 610/1213–4) et Zayn alUmanà" A-Ó I 'Aà (m. 627/1229–30).67 Elles concernent surtout des hommes de religion, traditionnistes, spécialistes du Coran, cadis, ayant séjourné plus ou moins longtemps dans la ville de Damas. La famille des Banù al-'Adìm, ou Bù Aì Dà, était aussi une grande famille d’hommes de lettres et de religion et Ibn al'Adìm a puisé dans les sources familiales. Son père A˙mad lui a parlé de la mort d’al-Mutanabbì; quant à son aïeul, le cadi Abù alÓasan A˙mad Ibn Abì Djaràda (m. 442/1050–51), il avait appris la poésie d’al-Mutannabì avec Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh b. Sa'd al-Na˙wì et l’avait recopiée dans un manuscrit qu’Ibn al-'Adìm eut entre les mains. A l’intérieur de ce manuscrit, Ibn al-'Adìm trouva un palimpseste, d’une écriture différente, racontant les circonstances

64

Ibn al-'Adìm s’est également inspiré de cet ouvrage, aujourd’hui disparu, pour des biographies de princes, de vizirs ou d’émirs du XIe et début du XIIe siècle (Bughya, iii, 1130; iv, 1956; v, 2330, 2499; viii, 3667 et I. 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 83–90). Cet auteur est surtout connu pour sa continuation de l’Histoire de ˇabarì intitulée Takmilat Ta"rìkh al-ˇabarì dont seul le premier tome est conservé allant jusqu’à 367/977–78 (éd. A.Y. Kan'àn, Beyrouth, 1961). Cf. Canard, H’amdanides, 21, 59. 65 Cf. al-'AΩìmì, Ta"rìkh Óalab, éd. I. Za'rùr, Damas, 1984. Outre cette histoire résumée, al-'AΩìmì fut l’auteur d’au moins un autre ouvrage historique beaucoup plus détaillé. Sur al-'AΩìmì, source d’Ibn al-'Adìm, cf. Cahen, Syrie du Nord, 42–43; Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’, 295 et 'Abbàs, Shadharàt, 51–76. 66 Cf. Ibn al-'Imàd, vii, 304–305; Dhahabì, Siyar, xxiii, 31–34. 67 Sur la famille des Banù 'Asàkir, source de la Bughya, cf. Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’, 296. Zayn al-Umanà" al-Óasan Ibn 'Asàkir est très souvent cité par Ibn al-'Adìm sous le simple nom d’Abù al-Barakàt b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Óasan (cf. index).

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de la mort du poète.68 C’est sous la plume d’un autre cousin éloigné, le cadi Abù al-Makàrim Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Malik (m. 565/ 1169–70) qu’Ibn al-'Adìm trouva aussi quelques renseignements sur l’imâm Ibn Sinàn al-Khafàdjì. Abù al-Makàrim avait lui-même entendu dire par l’un de ses lointains cousins, Abù al-Óasan 'Alì Ibn Abì Djaràda (m. 548/1153–54) qu’Ibn Sinàn “possédait, sous le règne de Sayf al-Dawla Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. Óamdàn, une pièce dans laquelle il résidait, à proximité des chevaux de race (khayl al-'itàq) dans la rue des Notaires (darb al-'Udùl ). A cette époque-là, en effet, les Alépins tenaient prêts des chevaux arabes en nombre suffisant pour affronter les Byzantins, pour se rendre à proximité des places frontières et lancer le plus souvent possible des expéditions contre eux.”69 De même, Ibn al-'Adìm a recueilli le témoignage de certains de ses contemporains dans lequel se retrouvent parfois d’anciennes traditions orales dont on ignore l’origine exacte: Le cadi de l’armée Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad b. Yùsuf b. al-Kha∂ir70 nous a raconté ceci: Alep était parmi les villes les plus boisées, mais les discordes entre Sayf al-Dawla b. Óamdàn et al-Ikhshìd Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad b. ˇughdj firent disparaître ses arbres. En effet, quand l’Ikhshìd assiégeait Alep, il faisait couper ses arbres. Quand il s’en emparait et regagnait l’Égypte, Sayf al-Dawla arrivait et faisait de même. Ceci se répéta jusqu’à ce que tous les arbres eussent disparu. Plus tard, les Byzantins vinrent mettre le siège devant Alep. Ils prirent la ville en 351/962 et c’est la raison pour laquelle les cèdres (al-sharbìn)71 disparurent.”72

Par ailleurs, les ouvrages de généalogie rédigés par des auteurs alides, prétendant descendre de la famille du Prophète, occupent une place de choix dans les sources de la Bughya. Les ashràf, en effet, veillaient jalousement sur leurs privilèges et leurs ouvrages de généalogie étaient destinés, en général, à éviter l’intrusion de faux prétendants à cette ascendance illustre. Parmi eux, un généalogiste égyptien 68 Cf. Bughya, ii, 681 et l’arbre généalogique des Banù al-'Adìm dans Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 636. 69 Cf. Bughya, x, 4682. 70 Connu sous le nom Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Abya∂, il fut cadi de l’armée d’al-'Àdil b. Ayyùb (1200–18), avant de revenir dans sa ville natale, Alep, où il mourut en 614/1217. Cf. Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 369. 71 Al-Sharbìn peut aussi désigner les pistachiers (cf. R. Dozy, Supplément aux Dictionnaires arabes, Leyde, 1881, i, 742) qui ont toujours été nombreux dans la région d’Alep. 72 Cf. Bughya, i, 415–416 et Zubda, i, 115.

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de l’époque de l’eunuque Kàfùr (m. 357/968), al-Óusayn b. Dja'far I Kà' (?), rédigea un ouvrage intitulé Kitàb al-mu'qibìn min wuld al-Óasan wa l-Óusayn dont Ibn al-'Adìm tira des informations sur des ashràf du Xe siècle.73 Légèrement postérieur, le généalogiste (nassàba) 'Abd Allàh b. al-Óasan Aù A-Gà" A-Zì al-'Alawì, dont le père avait été cadi à Alep de 363 à 379/973–90, était connu d’Ibn al-'Adìm pour ses deux ouvrages, Nuzhat 'uyùn al-mushtaqìn fì ’l-nasab et al-Mudjarrad fì ’l-nasab,74 de même que le sharìf Abù alÓasan 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad al-'Umarì I A-Íùì (m. ap. 425/1034) auteur d’un Kitàb al-Mudjdì fì ansàb al-ˇàlibiyyìn.75 Ibn al-'Adìm a, en outre, consulté trois ouvrages, au moins, du célèbre généalogiste A-Dàì (m. 588/1192).76 Pour la période de Sayf al-Dawla, il y a trouvé des informations sur le sharìf al-Óasan b. ˇàhir (m. 336/948) et sur le sharìf al-Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Qummì (m. 384/994–95) qui passa par Alep en 347/958–59. Celui-ci, d’après al-Djawwànì, fut le premier à lancer l’appel à la prière, selon le mode chiite, à Alep, avec la formule: “Mu˙ammad et 'Alì sont les bienfaits de l’humanité”. Ibn al-'Adìm ajoute, qu’à sa connaissance, ceci eut lieu sous le règne de Sa'd al-Dawla fils de Sayf al-Dawla.77 De son côté, l’historien et généalogiste Idrìs b. al-Óasan A-Iìì (m. 610 ou 611/1213–15) vint s’établir à Alep vers 559–560/1163–65. Ses prétentions à descendre de la famille hasanide furent sévèrement battues en brèche par al-Djawwànì, ce qui n’empêcha pas Ibn al'Adìm de le citer à propos du sharìf al-Óasan b. 'Abd Allàh, cadi de Damas, dont la famille vint à Alep sous le règne de Sayf alDawla avant d’aller s’établir à Damas.78 Quelques informations sur les ashràf ont été également fournies par l’ouvrage d’Abù al-Kha††àb 'Umar b. Mu˙ammad A-'Uì al-Dimashqì (m. 574/1179) connu sous le nom d’I Óà" K

73 Cf. Bughya, v, 2413; vi, 2524, 2701. Sur ce généalogiste husaynide, cf. Maqrìzì, Muqaffà, iii, 495 (Khidà' (?) était le nom que portait sa nourrice). 74 Sur son père, al-Óasan b. Mu˙ammad, cadi d’Alep, cf. Zubda, I, 181. 75 Cf. Bughya, v, 2415–2416. Sur Ibn al-Íùfì, cf. Ka˙˙àla, vii, 221. 76 Cf. Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’, 298. Sur ce généalogiste, cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Djawwànì’ (F. Rosenthal). Ibn al-'Adìm l’appelle aussi Ibn al-Djawwànì (Bughya, iii, 1328). Des manuscrits de deux ouvrages de généalogie ont survécu (Brockelmann, i, 451 sq. et S i, 626) mais ses nombreux autres ouvrages dont ceux qui sont cités par Ibn al-'Adìm n’ont pas encore été retrouvés (cf. la liste de ses ouvrages dans Maqrìzì, Muqaffà, v, 307–308). 77 Cf. Bughya, v, 2409, 2413; vi, 2701. 78 Cf. Bughya, v, 2415. Sur ce généalogiste, cf. Eddé, Principauté ayyoubide, 440.

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ou Ibn Óawshakash. Marchand et traditionniste, al-'Ulaymì voyagea beaucoup et laissa de nombreux écrits. Ibn al-'Adìm s’est beaucoup inspiré de son œuvre, en particulier pour les XIe et XIIe siècles.79 Dans un autre domaine, pour décrire dans son introduction le territoire d’Alep, Ibn al-'Adìm s’est servi de nombreux ouvrages de littérature géographique. Parmi ceux qui donnent des renseignements sur la région, à l’époque de Sayf al-Dawla, figurent A-Iì, I Ó et A-M'ùì dont les ouvrages sont bien connus. Beaucoup plus originaux sont les passages extraits de l’Histoire des places frontières (Siyar al-thughùr), aujourd’hui perdue, du cadi de Ma'arrat al-Nu'màn, Abù 'Amr 'Uthmàn A-ˇùì (m. 401/1011) et du Kitàb al-Masàlik wa l-mamàlik qu’Abù al-Óusayn al-Óasan A-Mì (m. 380/990) dédia au calife fatimide al-'Azìz et dont seuls quelques fragments sont parvenus jusqu’à nous.80 Dès 1957, M. Canard avait relevé l’importance de ces extraits et plus récemment C.E. Bosworth les a largement exploités dans ses travaux sur l’histoire de Tarse.81 Aux informations très précieuses extraites de l’ouvrage d’al-ˇarsùsì sur les fortifications, la topographie, la vie militaire, religieuse et sociale de Tarse, on peut ajouter quelques renseignements sur des personnages originaires de cette ville,82 et dans l’ouvrage d’al-Muhallabì, des indications intéressantes sur Alep, Antioche et Mißìß ainsi qu’en témoigne ce passage sur les productions et la population d’Alep, commenté par Ibn al-'Adìm: Alep est l’une des villes les plus imposantes et les plus riches. Ses districts et ses domaines agricoles rassemblent toutes les productions pré-

79 Cf. Dhahabì, Siyar, XXI, 49; Ibn al-'Imàd, vi, 411. Les sources ne disent pas s’il était lui-même chiite. Eddé, ‘Sources arabes’, 294 (ajouter Bughya, v, 2406: biographie d’un marchand alépin m. 557/1162). 80 Quatorze folios du Masàlik (description de Jérusalem et Damas, liste des gouverneurs d’Egypte) ont été édités par Í. al-D. al-Munadjdjid dans Revue de l’Institut des Manuscrits Arabes, IV/1, 1958, 43–72. Al-Muhallabì est aussi connu par les citations de Yàqùt, de 'Izz al-Dìn Ibn Shaddàd, d’Abù al-Fidà et d’al-Qalqashandì. Cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘al-Muhallabì’ (Ch. Pellat). 81 Sur les sources utilisées par Ibn al-'Adìm pour son introduction géographique, en particulier al-ˇarsùsì et al-Muhallabì, cf. M. Canard, ‘Quelques observations sur l’introduction géograhique de la Bughyat a†-ˇalab de Kamâl ad-Dîn Ibn al-'Adîm d’Alep’, Annales de l’Institut des Etudes Orientales, 15, 1957, 41–53. Sur al-Muhallabì et al-Tarsùsì, cf. aussi C.E. Bosworth, ‘The city of Tarsus and the Arab-Byzantine frontiers in early and middle 'Abbàsid times’, Oriens, 33, 1992, 268–286 et ‘Abù 'Amr 'Uthmàn al-Tarsùsì, Siyar al-thughùr and the last years of Arab rule in Tarsus (fourth/tenth century)’, Graeco-Arabica, 5, Athènes, 1993, 183–195. 82 Cf. Bughya, ii, 853; iii, 1061.

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141

cieuses. La région de Ma'arrat Mißrìn jusqu’au Djabal Summàq était le pays des figues, des raisins secs, des pistaches, du summaq et des pistachiers-thérébinthe (˙abbat al-kha∂rà"), autant de produits très bon marché que l’on exportait en Égypte, en Iraq et vers tous les pays. La région d’al-Athàrib et d’Artà˙, jusqu’aux environs du Djabal Summàq, ressemblait à la Palestine par l’abondance de ses olives. Ses revenus tirés de l’huile étaient très importants. C’était l’huile d’Irak que l’on transportait vers al-Raqqa, et par voie fluviale, sur l’Euphrate, en tous pays. Mais tout ceci a bien diminué car les Byzantins se sont acharnés contre cette région. Quant au caractère de sa population: ses habitants ont les plus beaux visages et les plus beaux corps qui soient. Ils ont pour la plupart, un teint de perle, rouge ou brun, leurs yeux sont noirs ou bleus foncés. Ils ont une excellente nature et une stature parfaite. Leur foi était par le passé la même que celle des autres habitants de Syrie, sauf cas particuliers, et leur qibla était conforme à celle des autres Syriens. En disant que leur foi était la même, dans le passé, que celle des habitants de Syrie, al-Muhallabì fait allusion à l’école sunnite car les habitants d’Alep étaient sunnites jusqu’à l’attaque des Byzantins en 351/962. Ces derniers ayant massacré la plupart des Alépins, Sayf alDawla fit venir de Óarràn un certain nombre de chiites, tel le sharìf Abù Ibràhìm al-'Alawì et d’autres encore. Sayf al-Dawla avait des sympathies chiites et c’est la raison pour laquelle les Alépins devinrent chiites.”83

Seule une partie des sources sur la période hamdanide est parvenue jusqu’à nous. En conservant la trace d’un grand nombre de manuscrits, aujourd’hui disparus, la Bughya d’Ibn al-'Adìm, non seulement nous transmet des informations originales sur la vie politique, religieuse et culturelle d’Alep au Xe siècle, mais nous permet aussi de reconstituer une partie de l’historiographie hamdanide et de dresser la liste des textes encore en circulation au XIIIe siècle. Nous avons constaté, par ailleurs, les qualités d’historien d’Ibn al-'Adìm qui, tout au long de son ouvrage, accumule et diversifie sa documentation, compare et critique ses sources, indique l’origine de ses informations et garantit l’authenticité de leur transmission. Les textes littéraires (poésie, littérature et langue arabe) occupent autant de place que les ouvrages historiques et nous renseignent tout particulièrement sur l’activité de ces poètes et hommes de lettres dont Sayf al-Dawla aimait s’entourer. Cet éclairage plus littéraire que politique tient à la nature même de l’ouvrage dans lequel les biographies d’ulémas

83

Cf. Bughya, i, 60 et v, 2293 (sa biographie).

142

- 

sont beaucoup plus nombreuses que les biographies de princes ou d’émirs. C’est, en effet, une image bien différente qui se dégage de l’autre ouvrage historique d’Ibn al-'Adìm, la Zubda, où il n’est question que d’action diplomatique et militaire. De ce point de vue, les deux ouvrages se complètent bien et constituent, malgré leur date de composition tardive, une source essentielle pour l’histoire du règne de Sayf al-Dawla.84

84 La Bughya nous permet, en outre, de connaître les sources dont Ibn al-'Adìm se servit pour rédiger son histoire d’Alep.

L  ’I -Aì     S -D Nisba

Dates

Titres des ouvrages

Origine de l’information

Références

Mu˙ammad b. Ya˙yà al-Íùlì Abù Bakr

al-Íùlì

m. 336/947

Kitàb al-awràq

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 857; iii, 1176; v, 2436

Ibràhìm b. Óabìb alSaqa†ì Abù Is˙àq

al-Saqa†ì al-ˇabarì

m. ap. 353/964–65

Lawàmi' al-umùr; Kitàb al-radìf; Ta"rìkh

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 672; iii, 1177; vi, 2532; ix, 4209; x, 4746.

Abù al-ˇayyib alMutanabbì

al-Kùfì

m. 354/965

Dìwàn

Source directe

Bughya, i, 237, 242, 244; x, 4513

Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Abù al-Óasan

al-Maghribì

m. ap. 354/964–65

Intißàr al-munabbì 'an fa∂à"il al-Mutanabbì

Source directe

Bughya, v, 2447

Abù Firàs al-Óàrith b. Sa'ìd b. Óamdàn

al-Óamdànì al-Taghlibì

m. 357/968

Dìwàn

Source directe

Bughya, i, 168, 260, 439

al-Óusayn b. Dja'far Ibn Khidà' (?) al-Nassàba

al-Óusaynì al-Arqa†ì

né en 310/923 m. ap. mi-Xe s.

Kitàb al-mu'qibìn min wuld al-Óasan wa ’l-Óusayn

Source directe

Bughya, v, 2413; vi, 2524, 2701; Muqaffà, iii, 495

'Abd Allàh b. A˙mad Abù Mu˙ammad

al-Farghànì

m. 362/973

Ta"rìkh

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 680; Ka˙˙àla, vi, 22

Thàbit b. Sinàn al-Íàbi" Abù al-Óasan

al-Íàbi"

m. v. 365/976

Livre de nécrologies Source directe

  ’ -'ì

Nom

Bughya, iii, 1177; v, 2437; vii, 3496; viii, 3658

143

144

Table (cont.) Nom

Nisba

Ibn Khàlawayh

A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Abù al-'Abbàs al-Nàmì

Dates


Références

al-Hamadhànì m. 370/980

Shar˙ Dìwàn Abì Firàs; Amàlì; Kitàb A†raghashsh

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 634, 640, 688; iii, 1093, 1490; v, 2433–4; vi, 2527, 2675; ix, 4291; x, 4514, 4665, 4767

al-Nàmì al-Mißßìßì

m. 370/980–81 ou 371/981–82

Amàlì al-Muqni' Dìwàn

Source directe

Bughya, iii, 1083–4, 1089; Ka˙˙àla, ii, 100

'Ubayd Allàh b. 'Abd al-Ißfahànì al-Ra˙ìm Abù al-Qàsim

m. ap. 379/989

Akhbàr al-shu'arà"

Abù Naßr Ibn Nubàta

Bughya, x, 4584

al-Óasan Abù alÓusayn al-Muhallabì

al-Muhallabì al-'Azìzì

m. 380/990

al-Masàlik wa ’l-mamàlik

Source directe

Bughya, i, 58–60, 134, 155, 178, 180, 348, 469; v, 2293

al-Mu˙assin b. 'Alì alTanùkhì Abù 'Alì

al-Tanùkhì al-Baßrì al-Baghdàdì

m. 384/994

Transmission orale parvenue à Ibn al'Adìm par une chaîne de garants

Source directe; Mu˙. b. Ya˙yà al-'Alawì alZaydì

Bughya, ii, 642–3, 646–7, 665; iii, 1085–6, 1090

Ibn al-Nadìm

al-Baghdàdì al-Warràq

m. v. 385/995

al-Fihrist

Source directe

Bughya, ix, 4208; x, 4742

Al-Óasan Ibn Zùlàq Abù Mu˙ammad

al-Laythì al-Mißrì

m. 386/996

Sìrat al-Ikhshìd Mu˙ammad b. ˇughdj

Source directe

Bughya, v, 2409

- 

Titres des ouvrages

'Abd Allàh b. alÓasan Abù alGhanà"im

al-'Alawì al-Zaydì al-Nassàba

Anonyme Al-A†ràbulusì

Íàli˙ b. Ibràhìm Ibn Rishdìn Abù 'Alì

Nuzhat 'uyùn almushtàqìn fì ’l-nasab; al-Mudjarrad fì ’l-nasab;

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 629, 659; v, 2413, 2415, 2417; vii, 3437

IVe/Xe s.

Madjmù'

Source directe

Bughya, iv, 1932–1941

IV /X s.

Ta'àlìq wa amàlì 'an Ibn Khàlawayh

Ibn Khàlawayh

Bughya, ii, 634–5

IVe/Xe s.

Madjmù'

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 678; iii, 1124; x, 4615

Source directe

Bughya, i, 123

e

e

al-Naßìbì

2e moitié du IVe/Xe

Íùrat al-ar∂

Mu˙ammad b. al'Abbàs b. Mu˙ammad

al-Kinànì al-Dimashqì

2e moitié du IVe/Xe s.

al-Ta"rìkh al-mudjaddad Source directe

'Alì b. al-Óusayn Abù al-Óasan al-Daylamì

al-Daylamì al-Zarràd

2e moitié du IVe/Xe ?

Akhbàr Sayf al-Dawla

Source directe ?

Bughya, ii, 673–4; v, 2408–9; vi, 2528, 2531; x, 4490

'Uthmàn Abù al-Fat˙ Ibn Djinnì

al-Mawßilì

m. 392/1002

Kitàb al-Fasr (Commentaire du Dìwàn d’al-Mutanabbì)

Source directe

Bughya, ii, 667

'Abd Allàh b. al-Óasan al-Zaydì b. Mu˙ammad al-Sharìf al-'Alawì al-Nassàba

Fin IVe/Xe s.

Nuzhat 'uyùn alSource directe Bughya, ii, 629; v, 2413, 2415, mushtaqìn fì ’l-nasab; Sources familiales 2417; vii, 3437 al-Mudjarrad fì ’l-nasab

Bughya, x, 4592–3

145

Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì Abù al-Qàsim Ibn Óawqal

  ’ -'ì

Óamza b. 'Abd Allàh b. al-Óusayn Abù al-Qàsim

IVe/Xe s.

146

Table (cont.) Nom

Nisba

Dates

Titres des ouvrages

'Alì Abù al-Óasan al-Shimshà†ì

al-Shimshà†ì

Fin IVe/Xe s.

Kitàb al-diyàràt; Source directe al-Nuzah wa ’l-ibtihàdj; al-Anwàr wa-ma˙àsin al-ash'àr

al-Óasan Ibn Fàris Abù Mu˙ammad

al-Lughawì

Fin IVe/Xe ou début Ve/XIe s.

Sans titre: mimmà akhadhahu 'an Abì ’l-Óusayn Ibn Fàris

début Ve/XIe ?

Madà"i˙ Abì Dja'far Mu˙. b. al-Óusayn b. al-Muhadhdhab

Bughya, vi, 2676

Bughya, ix, 4205, 4208

Références Bughya, vi, 2726; x, 4489

A˙mad Ibn Fàris Bughya, v, 2450 Abù al-Óusayn (m. 395/1004)

al-Mu˙assin b. Ibràhìm al-Íàbi"

al-Íàbi"

m. 401/1010

Source écrite connue Source directe d’Ibn al-'Adìm par Yàqùt

'Uthmàn b. 'Abd Allàh Abù 'Amr al-ˇarsùsì

al-ˇarsùsì

m. 401/1011

Siyar al-thughùr

Source directe

Bughya, i, 180 sq.: ii, 853; iii, 1061

Mu˙ammad b. alÓusayn al-Sharìf al-Ra∂ì

al-'Alawì al-Mùsawì

m. 406/1015

Dìwàn

Source directe

Bughya, v, 2274

Abù Óayyàn 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad al-Taw˙ìdì

al-Taw˙ìdì

m. v. 414/1023

Risàlat fì taqrìΩ Abì 'Uthmàn 'Amr b. Ba˙r al-Djà˙iΩ

Source directe

Bughya, v, 2447

- 

Anonyme


Ya˙yà b. 'Alì Ibn alˇa˙˙àn Abù al-Qàsim

al-Óa∂ramì al-Mißrì

m. 416/1025

Dhayl Ta"rìkh Abì Sa'ìd b. Yùnis

Bughya, ii, 675; v, 2474

al-Óusayn b. 'Alì alMaghribì Abù al-Qàsim

al-Maghribì

m. 418/1027

Adab al-khawàßß; al-Ma"thùr min mil˙ al-khudùr; Rasà"il

Mu˙ammad b. 'Ubayd Allàh Mukhtàr al-Mulk al-Musabbi˙ì

al-Musabbi˙ì al-Óarrànì

m. 420/1029

Mukhtàr min akhbàr Mißr; Ta"rìkh

Abù al-Óasan 'Alì al-Raba'ì

al-Shìràzì al-Baghdàdì

m. 420/1029

al-Tanbìh 'alà akh†à" Ibn Djinnì

Ibn al-Qàri˙ Dawkhala 'Alì Abù al-Óasan

al-Óalabì

m. ap. 424/1033

Risàla

'Alì b. Mu˙ammad Abù al-'Alawì al-Óasan Ibn al-Íùfì al-Nassàba al-Sharìf

m. ap. 425/1034

Kitàb al-Mudjdì fì ansàb al-ˇàlibìn

Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì Ibn Naßr Abù al-Óasan

al-Baghdàdì al-Kàtib

m. 437/1045

Kitàb al-Mufàwa∂a

al-Babbàghà"; Bughya, iii, 1086; vi, 2529, 2530; Abù l-Óasan vi, 2554; ix, 4206, 4208; x, Mihyàr; Abù 4585–7 l-Qàsim al-Raqqì al-Munadjdjim; Abù l-Óasan alÓalabì; Abd alWà˙id b. Naßr

'Alì b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Fùrradja

al-Barùdjirdì (Iran)

m. ap. 437/1046

al-Tadjannì 'alà Ibn Djinnì

Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì; Miskàwayh

Abù al-Haydjà" Bughya, iii, 1087, 1176; v, 2181, Ibn Óamdàn 2435; vi, 2532–55; vi, 2702, 2705; Sources familiales ix, 4291, 4294 Bughya, ii, 675; iii, 1097, 1111, 1116; v, 2477 Bughya, ii, 640–1, 671

Ibn Abì al-Azhar; Bughya, ii, 653, vi, 2538; ix, 4193 al-Qu†rabbulì Bughya, v, 2415–6 Ka˙˙àla, vii, 221

147

Bughya, ii, 650, 659, 664, 677; iii, 1084–5; Ka˙˙àla, ix, 10

  ’ -'ì

Source directe

148

Table (cont.) Nom

Nisba

Dates

Titres des ouvrages


Références

A˙mad b. Ya˙yà Ibn Abì Djaràda Abù al-Óasan

al-Óalabì

m. 442/1050–51

Copie des poèmes d’al-Mutanabbì

Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh b. Sa'd al-Na˙wì

Bughya, ii, 681

al-Mufa∂∂al b. Mu˙ammad al-Ma'arrì Abù al-Ma˙àsin

al-Ma'arrì al-Tanùkhì

m. v. 442/ 1050–51

Ta"rìkh al-nu˙àt

'Alì b. al-Mu˙assin al-Tanùkhì Abù al-Qàsim

al-Tanùkhì

m. 447/1055

Transmission orale parvenue à Ibn al'Adìm par une chaîne de garants

'Abd al-Mu˙sin b. 'Uthmàn Abù al-Qàsim

al-Tinnìsì

m. ap. 447/1055

al-'Arùs fì fa∂à"il Tinnìs

Bughya, v, 2475; Muqaffà, vi, 320

m. 448/1056

Kitàb al-wuzarà"; Ta"rìkh

Sources familiales Bughya, ii, 659, 668, 678; v, 2451; vi, 2537

al-Mu˙assin alTanùkhì; Abù 'Alì al-Fàrisì

Bughya, ii, 642; v, 2267; Ka˙˙àla, vii, 175

Hammàm b. al-Fa∂l b. Dja'far b. 'Alì b. al-Muhadhdhab Abù Ghàlib al-Ma'arrì


m. ap. 454/1062

Ta"rìkh

Abù al-'Alà" alMa'arrì; le plus souvent non précisé

Bughya, ii, 661, 674, 699, 866; iii, 1047; v, 2451, 2272; vi, 2706; viii, 3658

Abù Bakr A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì

al-Baghdàdì

m. 463/1071

Ta"rìkh Baghdàd

al-Mu˙assin alBughya, ii, 640, 642, 680, 689, Tanùkhì; 'Alì b. 691, 758, 768, 770; iii, 1060; v, al-Mu˙assin 2268 al-Tanùkhì; A˙mad b. Dja'far al-Qa†ì'ì;

- 

Hilàl b. al-Mu˙assin b. Ibràhìm al-Íàbi"

Bughya, v, 2274; Ka˙˙àla, xii, 315–6

al-Óalabì al-Kafar†àbì

m. ap. 465/1072

Mukhtaßar Ta"rìkh al- al-Zubaydì alna˙wiyyìn li-Mu˙ammad Ishbilì b. al-Óasan al-Zubaydì (m. 379/989)

Bughya, v, 2446; ix, 4155 (sa biographie)

'Abd Allàh b. Mu˙. b. Sa'ìd Abù Mu˙ammad Ibn Sinàn

al-Khafàdjì al-Óalabì

m. 466/1074

Poésie

Bughya, i, 59

Ya˙yà b. 'Alì Abù al-Óasan Ibn Zurayq


m. ap. 508/1114

Chronique

Bughya, ii, 699; Res Orientales, vi, 294

Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Malik Abù al-Óasan al-Hamadhànì

al-Hamadhànì m. 521/1127

'Uyùn (ou 'Unwàn) al-siyar fì ma˙àsin ahl al-badw wa l-˙a∂ar

Bughya, v, 2436; vi, 2531, 2924; ix, 4296

'Alì b. Murshid b. 'Alì Ibn Munqidh Abù al-Óasan

al-Kinànì al-Màlikì

m. 545/1150

al-Bidàya wa l-nihàya fì l-ta"rìkh

Ya˙yà b. Salàma b. al-Óusayn Abù al-Fa∂l

al-Óaßkafì al-Diyàrbakrì

m. 551/1156–57 ou 553/1158

Ta'lìq (Notes)

'Abd al-Mun'im b. alÓasan Ibn al-Lu'ayba

al-Óalabì

m. ap. 555/1160

Source écrite. Sans titre

Ibn Khàlawayh

Bughya, ii, 668

Bughya, ii, 671 Abù al-Fa∂l Djàmi' b. 'Alì

  ’ -'ì

Sàlim b. 'Alì b. Tamìm Abù al-Óasan

Bughya, ix, 4191; Res Orientales, vi, 295

149

150

Table (cont.) Nisba

Dates

Titres des ouvrages


Références

Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì al-'AΩìmì

al-'AΩìmì al-Óalabì al-Tanùkhì

m. 556/1161

Ta"rìkh

Bughya, ii, 644; vi, 2540, 2548; vii, 3495; viii, 3658; ix, 4237

Mu˙ammad Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Óarrànì

al-Óarrànì

m. 560/1165

Raw∂at al-udabà"

Bughya, v, 2273

Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al- al-Óalabì Malik Ibn Abì Djaràda

m. 565/1169–70


'Alì b. 'Abd Allàh Ibn Abì Djaràda

Bughya, x, 4682

Sa'ìd Ibn al-Dahhàn

al-Na˙wì al-Baghdàdì

m. 569/1174


Abù al-Fat˙ Ibn Burhàn

Bughya, v, 2271; Ka˙˙àla, iv, 229

Abù Sa'ìd Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì

al-'Iràqì

VIe/XIIe s.

al-Óamàsa al-'Iràqiyya

'Umar b. Mu˙ammad al-'Ulaymì Abù alKha††àb Ibn Óawà"idj Kash

al-'Ulaymì al-Dimashqì

m. 574/1179


'Abd al-Mun'im Bughya, II, 637; v, 2417 b. 'Alì (Ibn) alNa˙wì al-Dimashqì

A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Abù ˇàhir al-Silafì

al-Silafì al-Ißfahànì

m. 576/1180


Calife al-Qàdir Bughya, ii, 757; v, 2272, 2274, A˙mad; 'Alì b. 2452; vi, 2553, 2684; ix, 4192; 'Abd al-Malik al- Ka˙˙àla, ii, 75–6 Dàbiqì; A˙mad b. Mu˙. al-'Atìqì

Bughya, iii, 1210; vi, 2729

- 

Nom

Mu˙ammad b. As'ad Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Djawwànì

al-Óusaynì al-Nassàba

m. 588/1192

Nuzhat al-qalb al-mu'annà fì nasab Banì l-Muhannà

Bughya, v, 2409, 2413; vi, 2701

'Abd al-Wà˙id Ibn al-Óußayn

al-Wazìr al-Baghdàdì

m. 597/1201


Bughya, ix, 4295

'Umar Abù Óafß Ibn ˇabarzadh

al-Baghdàdì

m. 607/1210

Transmission orale

al-Kha†ìb alBaghdàdì; alKàtib al-Óusayn b. al-Íaqr

Mu˙ammad b. alÓusayn al-ˇughrà"ì

al-Wazìr al-Ißfahànì

m. 607/1210


Sources familiales Bughya, vi, 2702

A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Tàdj al-Umanà" Ibn 'Asàkir

al-Dimashqì

m. 610/1213–14

Transmission orale

'Alì Ibn 'Asàkir; al-Kha†ìb alBaghdàdì

Bughya, ii, 633, 640, 789

Idrìs b. al-Óasan Abù al-Óasan al-Sharìf al-Idrìsì

al-Idrìsì al-Óasanì

m. 610 ou 611/ 1213–15


Un descendant de la famille

Bughya, iii, 1324–33; v, 2415

'Abd al-'Azìz b. Ma˙mùd Ibn al-Akh∂ar

al-Baghdàdì

m. 611/1214–15


'Alì b. Ayyùb b. al-Óusayn Ibn al-Sàrbàn

Bughya, i, 242; ii, 644, 651, 680; Ka˙˙àla, ii, 262

A˙mad b. Hibat Allàh Ibn al-'Adìm

al-Óalabì

m. 613/1216–17

Transmission orale (père de l’auteur)

Zayd b. al-Óasan Abù al-Yumn al-Kindì Tàdj al-Dìn

al-Kindì

m. 613/1217

Transmission orale

Bughya, ii, 771; iii, 1087; v, 2445; vi, 2753

  ’ -'ì

Bughya, ii, 681 Bughya, ii, 642, 676, 680, 689, 691, 758, 768, 770; iii, 1060–1; v, 2268–9

151

Abù al-Fat˙ Ibn Burhàn; al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì;

Nom

152

Table (cont.) Nisba

Dates

Titres des ouvrages


Références

Mu˙ammad b. Yùsuf b. al-Kha∂ir Abù 'Abd Allàh

m. 614/1217

Transmission orale

Bughya, i, 415

'Abd al-Íamad b. Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Óarastànì Abù al-Qàsim

al-Anßàrì al-Dimashqì

m. 614/1218

Transmission orale

– 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Umar b. Abì Naßr alGhazàl (ou al-Ghazàlì) – 'Abd Allàh b. 'Umar b. 'Alì b. al-Kha∂ir

al-Ghazàlì

m. 615/1218

Co-auteurs d’un al-Óàkim alBughya, ii, 855; v, 2275–6; ouvrage dont le titre Naysàbùrì Ibn al-'Imàd, vii, 116 n’est pas précisé (Ta"rìkh Naysàbùr)

al-Qurashì

al-Tha'àlibì; al-Mu˙assin b. 'Alì b. Kawdjak; 'Alì b. al-Mu˙assin al-Tanùkhì

Bughya, ii, 674, 691; iii, 1084, 1111; v, 2475; vi, 2530; x, 4512; Dhahabì, Siyar, xxii, 80–4; Ibn al-'Imàd, vii, 108–9

- 

Abù Is˙àq alFìrùzabàdì; Ibn Zurayq al-Qazzàz; Mawhùb alDjawàliqì; Abù al-Qàsim al-Azharì

al-Hàshimì al-Balkhì al-Óalabì

m. 616/1219

Transmission orale

al-Sam'ànì; Miskàwayh

Bughya, ii, 652; vi, 2545

Dà"ùd b. A˙mad Nadjìb al-Dìn al-ˇìbì

al-ˇìbì al-Tàdjir

m. 616/1220

Transmission orale

Shams al-Dìn Ibn al-Wàlì

Bughya, ii, 686

'Abd al-Ra˙ìm b. Abì Sa'd 'Abd al-Karìm al-Sam'ànì

al-Sam'ànì al-Marwazì

m. 617/1220

Transmission orale

Abù Sa'd 'Abd Bughya, ii, 756; iii, 1060; v, 2276 al-Karìm alSam'ànì (K. al-Ansàb)

'Abd al-Mu'izz b. Mu˙ammad Abù Raw˙ al-Harawì

al-Harawì al-Bazzàz al-Íùfì

m. 618/1221

Transmission orale

Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad al-Íùlì (K. al-Awràq)

Yàqùt

al-Rùmì

m. 626/1229

Transmission orale Lettre

'Alì al-Raba'ì; Bughya, ii, 640, 644–5, 654–5, al-Bìrùnì; 657, 662–3, 666, 672; x, 4515 'Ubayd Allàh al-Ißafahànì; Ismà'ìl b. 'Abbàd; al-Mu˙assin al-Íàbi"

al-Óasan b. Mu˙ammad Zayn al-Umanà" Abù l-Barakàt Ibn 'Asàkir

al-Dimashqì

m. 627/1229–30

Transmission orale

'Alì Ibn 'Asàkir; Ibn Khàlawayh

A˙mad b. Hibat Allàh Ibn al-Djibrànì

al-Óalabì al-Na˙wì

m. 628/1230–31

Transmission orale

Bughya, ii, 857: iii, 1176; v, 2436 Dhahabì, Siyar, xxii, 114–5

  ’ -'ì

'Abd al-Mu††alib Iftikhàr al-Dìn alHàshimì

Bughya, ii, 757, 801; iii, 1433–6

Bughya, v, 2447

153

154

Table (cont.) Nisba

Dates

Titres des ouvrages


Références

Mu˙ammad b. al-'Adl Ibn al-Shìràzì Abù Naßr Shams al-Dìn

al-Shìràzì

m. 635/1238

Transmission orale

'Alì Ibn 'Asàkir

Bughya, v, 2416, vi, 2542, 2555, 2674, 2741. Ibn al-'Imàd, vii, 304–5; Dhahabì, Siyar, xxiii, 31–4

Mu˙ammad b. Ma˙mùd Ibn alNadjdjàr Abù 'Abd Allàh

al-Baghdàdì

m. 643/1245

Dhayl Ta"rìkh Baghdàd

Hilàl b. alMu˙assin b. al-Íàbi"; A˙mad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Thabàtì

Bughya, ix, 4191, 4195

'Abd Allàh b. alÓusayn Ibn Rawà˙a

al-Khazradjì al-Óamawì

m. 646/1248

Transmission orale

Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Óusayn alˇàliqànì; Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Íùrì

Bughya, ii, 655, v, 2450; Dhahabì, Siyar, xxiii, 261–3

Yùsuf b. Ma˙mùd al-Sàwì Abù Ya'qùb

al-Sàwì al-Dimashqì al-Mißrì al-Íùfì

m. 647/1249

Transmission orale

Abù ˇàhir A˙mad al-Silafì; Abù 'Abd Allàh al-Óusayn al-ˇàliqànì; 'Alì b. Fa∂àl al-Farazdaqì

Bughya, ii, 655, 756; v, 2269; al-Dhahabì, Siyar, xxiii, 233–4

'Abd Allàh b. Barakàt Abù Mu˙. al-Khushù'ì

al-Khushù'ì al-Dimashqì

m. 658/1260

Transmission orale

Abù al-Qàsim A˙mad alRummànì

Bughya, ii, 720; Ibn al-'Imàd, vii, 506

- 

Nom

A˙mad b. Azhar al-Sabbàk

al-Baghdàdì

VIIe/XIIIe s.

Lettre à Ibn al-'Adìm

al-Babbàghà"; Bughya, ii, 661, 665 al-Kàtib al-Óusayn b. Mu˙. b. al-Íaqr

'Alì b. 'Abd alMun'im b. 'Alì Ibn al-Óaddàd

al-Óalabì

VIIe/XIIIe s.

Transmission orale

Abù Bakr alSam'ànì

Al-Óasan b. 'Amr Îiyà’ al-Dìn Ibn Duhni al-Khußà

al-Mawßilì

VIIe/XIIIe s.

Transmission orale

Sharaf al-Dìn Mu˙ammad Abù 'Abd Allàh

al-Sharìf al-Óusaynì

VIIe/XIIIe s.

Source écrite. Sans titre.

Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad al-Khàlidì

Bughya, ii, 682–5

Sulaymàn b. al-Fa∂l Abù al-Ma˙àsin al-Bàniyàsì

al-Bàniyàsì

VIIe/XIIIe s.

Transmission orale

'Alì Ibn 'Asàkir

Bughya, vi, 2675

VIIe/XIIIe s.


Óamàd alÓarrànì Abù al-Thanà"

Bughya, x, 4675

Bughya, ii, 665

  ’ -'ì

'Abd al-Mu˙sin Ibn al-Anmà†ì

Bughya, ii, 769

155

156

-  Bibliographie

'Abbàs I., Shadharàt min kutub mafqùda fì l-ta"rìkh, Beyrouth, 1988. al-Badì'ì, al-Íub˙ al-munabbì 'an ˙aythiyyat al-Mutanabbì, éd. Damas, 1350H. Blachère R., Un poète arabe du IV e siècle de l’Hégire (X e siècle de J.-C.): Abou †-ˇayyib al-Motanabbì, Paris, 1935. Brockelmann C., Geschichte der Arabischen Literatur, 2 vol., Weimar-Berlin, 1898–1902, 2e éd. Leyde, 1943–1949; 3 suppl. Leyde, 1937–1942. Cahen Cl., La Syrie du Nord à l’époque des croisades et la principauté franque d’Antioche, Paris, 1940. Canard M., Histoire de la dynastie des H’amdanides de Jazîra et de Syrie, Alger, 1951. Canard M., ‘Quelques aspects de la vie sociale en Syrie et Jazìra au dixième siècle d’après les poètes de la cour Óamdanide’, Arabic and Islamic Studies in Honour of Hamilton A.R. Gibb, éd. G. Makdisi, Leyde, 1965, 168–190. Dhahabì, Siyar a'làm al-nubalà", éd. S. al-Arna"ù† et al., 25 vol., Beyrouth, 1981–1988. Eddé A.-M., ‘Sources arabes des XIIe et XIIIe siècles d’après le dictionnaire biographique d’Ibn al-'Adìm (Bu©yat al-†alab fì ta"rì¢ Óalab)’, Itinéraires d’Orient. Hommages à Claude Cahen, Res Orientales, VI, 1994, 293–308. Eddé A.-M., La principauté ayyoubide d’Alep (579/1183–658/1260), Freiburger Islamstudien, XXI, Stuttgart, 1999. Ibn al-'Adìm, Bughyat al-†alab fì ta"rìkh Óalab, éd. S. Zakkàr, 11 vol., Damas, 1988. Ibn al-'Adìm, Zubdat al-˙alab min ta"rìkh Óalab, éd. S. Dahhàn, 3 vol., Damas, 1951–1968. Ibn al-'Imàd, Shadharàt al-dhahab fì akhbàr man dhahab, éd. 'A. al-Q. et M. al-Arna"ù†, 11 vol., Beyrouth, 1986. Ibn Khallikàn, Kitàb wafayàt al-a'yàn wa anbà" al-zamàn, éd. I. 'Abbàs, 8 vol., Beyrouth, 1968–1972. Ka˙˙àla 'U.R., Mu'djam al-mu"allifìn, 15 vol., Beyrouth, 1957–1961. al-Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-muqaffà al-kabìr, éd. M. al-Ya'làwì, 8 vol., Beyrouth, 1991. Yàqùt, Mu'djam al-udabà", 20 tomes en 10 vol., Beyrouth, 1980.

AN ORIGINAL ARABIC DOCUMENT FROM CRUSADER ANTIOCH (1213 AD)* Nadia Jamil and Jeremy Johns (Oxford)

Introduction Although Arabic was widely used as an administrative language in the Latin East,1 the texts of only three Arabic documents from the Crusader states are known. Two are summarised in the Ta"rìkh Bayrùt by Ibn Bu˙tur (fl. c. 828–40/1425–37).2 In the first, dated to a year equivalent to 1255 , the Frankish lord of Íaydà" grants an arable estate at Qaryat al-Dàmùr to a certain Óajjì(?), with the consent of two Latin officials of the lordship of Sidon. In the second, dated to 1260 , Humphrey de Monfort, lord of Beirut, grants the estate of al-'Amrùsiyya to an unnamed recipient. In this case the name of the scribe is given as Jurj b. Ya'qùb kàtib al-qal'a, ‘George, son of Jacob, the scribe of the castle [of Beirut]’. The document was written on vellum (raqq), and at the foot of the text was affixed a seal of red wax bearing the device (rank) of the lord of Beirut and an inscription in Latin (bi-l-firanjiyya). Although this detailed description demonstrates

* We are extremely grateful to the Director of the Archivio di Stato, Palermo, Dottoressa Giuseppina Giordano, for permission to study, publish and reproduce photographically this document, and to all the staff of the Archivio for their unfailing kindness and willingness to help. We are also especially grateful to Professor Denys Pringle of Ysgol Hanes ac Archaeoleg, Prifysgol Caerdydd, for generously offering invaluable comments and references. Dr Sebastian Brock, Prof. Clive Holes and—especially—Dr Najah Shamaa, all of the Oriental Institute, Oxford, made extremely useful comments on various problems in the text. 1 We know of no study devoted to the use of languages in the Latin East. An impressionistic picture of the use of Arabic may be had from: J. Riley-Smith, ‘Some lesser officials in Latin Syria’, English Historical Review 362 (1972), 1–26; and J. RileySmith, ‘The survival in Latin Palestine of Muslim administration’, in P.M. Holt, ed., The Eastern Mediterranean Lands in the Period of the Crusades, Warminster, 1977, 9–22. 2 Both documents are edited and discussed by C. Clermont-Ganneau, ‘Deux chartes des croisés dans des archives arabes’, in his Recueil d’archéologie orientale, 6 vols, Paris, 1903, vi, 1–30, whose reading is to be preferred to that of L. Cheiko, the editor of Íàli˙ b. Ya˙yà b. Bu˙tur’s Kitàb ta"rìkh Bayrùt, Beirut, 1902, 83–84, 111–112.

158

    

that Ibn Bu˙tur made his summary of both charters from the documents themselves, they are not known to have endured. The third Arabic document from the Latin East is thus the only one to survive in its original form. It is now lodged in the Archivio di Stato in Palermo. The story of how it came there also explains its survival. Soon after the Latin conquest of Jerusalem, the Benedictines began to administer the shrine in the Valley of Josaphat that was believed to be the site of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. Like the other great shrine churches of the Holy Land, the abbey of St Mary of Josaphat was granted numerous benefactions throughout Outremer and in western Europe.3 Josaphat was the first of the churches of the Latin East to receive possessions in Norman Italy and, by May 1140, owned thirty-three churches in the kingdom, including the priory of St Mary Magdalene at Messina. After the fall of Jerusalem to Íalà˙ al-Dìn in 1187, most of the monks of Josaphat sought refuge in various dependences of the mother-house in the East, while others left for the kingdom of Sicily. In 1289, just before the fall of Acre, the patriarch of Jerusalem authorised the abbot of Josaphat to re-establish the monastery in Sicily, and the community migrated permanently to the priory of St Mary Magdalene at Messina.4 There, Josaphat survived until the fifteenth century, when it was united with the monastery of San Placido at Calonerò.5 Our Arabic document was written in Antioch in March 1213, and lodged in the archive of Josaphat, presumably at Acre. It escaped the destruction of part of Josaphat’s archive by the Muslims in 1255,6 and later travelled with the remainder of the archive to Messina. On the suppression

3 H.E. Mayer, ‘Zur Geschichte des Klosters S. Maria im Val Josaphat’, in his Bistµmer, Klöster und Stifte im Königreich Jerusalem, Schriften der Monumenta Germaniae Historica 26, Stuttgart, 1977, 258–371; C.N. Johns, ‘The abbey of St Mary in the Valley of Jehosaphat’, Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 8 (1938), 117–136 and plates. 4 H.-F. Delaborde, Chartes de Terre Sainte provenant de Notre-Dame de Josaphat, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 19, Rome, 1880, 3–5, 120–121; C. Kohler, ‘Chartes de l’abbaye de Notre-Dame de Josaphat’, Revue de l’Orient Latin 7 (1900), 108–109. 5 G. Bresc-Bautier, ‘Les possessions des églises de Terre-Sainte en Italie du sud (Pouille, Calabre, Sicile)’, in Roberto il Guiscardo e il suo tempo. (Bari, maggio 1973), Centro di studi normanno-svevi, Università degli Studi di Bari: Relazioni e comunicazioni nelle prime giornate normanno-sveve = Fonti e studi del Corpus membranarum italicarum 11, Rome, 1975, 13–34; L.T. White Jr, Latin Monasticism in Norman Sicily, Cambridge, Mass., 1938, 207–214. 6 Delaborde, Chartes, 105–106, no. 50.

       159 of the monasteries of Sicily, it was transferred to the Archivio di Stato in Palermo in 1877–79.7 Our document was first published by Salvatore Cusa in the late nineteenth century, but with many errors and without the promised critical apparatus and translation.8 Gaetano Trovato, self-styled ‘professor of Arabic language and literature’ at Palermo University, used Cusa’s text as the basis for a less-than-useful Italian version first published in 1949.9 Claude Cahen subsequently made a French translation, but without first emending the unsatisfactory Arabic text published by Cusa.10 And, finally, Jean Richard, in collaboration with Dominique Sourdel and Janine Sourdel-Thomine who worked from a photograph acquired by Henri Bresc from the Archivio di Stato, revised Cahen’s translation and made a new study.11 Although this unique document has not been neglected,12 there exists no modern edition of the text, combining photographic reproduction, translation, commentary, and discussion. We have learnt so much from the impeccable editions of Arabic documents published by Donald Richards over the last thirty years that an edition and study of the only surviving Arabic document from the Latin East seems an appropriate way to express our affection and respect.

7 See below, pp. 170–171 for some comments on the fate of our document in the Sicilian archives. 8 S. Cusa, I Diplomi Greci ed Arabi di Sicilia, 2 vols: 1 only published in 2 parts, Palermo, 1868–82: reprint with short introduction by A. Noth, Cologne and Vienna, 1982, 645–649, and 740, no. 178. 9 G. Trovato, Sopravvivenze Arabe in Sicilia, Monreale, 1949, 77–80; reprint in F.G. Arezzo, Sicilia. Miscellanea di Studi Storici, Giuridici ed Economici sulla Sicilia, Palermo, 1950. For Cusa and Trovato, see A. De Simone, Nella Sicilia “Araba” tra Storia e Filologia, Palermo, 1999, 76–85 and 95–96, respectively. 10 C. Cahen, ‘Un document concernant les Melkites et les Latins d’Antioche au temps des Croisades’, Revue des Études Byzantines 29 (1971), 285–292. (‘L’édition de Cusa, bien qu’elle puisse peut-être, si l’on disposait du manuscrit, être améliorée sur un ou deux détails, fournit un text certainement suffisant pour l’utilisation que nous avons à en faire. Je ne compliquerai donc pas la tâche de cette Revue en reproduisant le texte arabe . . .’, 286.) 11 J. Richard, ‘Église latine et églises orientales dans les états des croisés: la destinée d’un prieuré de Josaphat’, in Mélanges offerts à Jean Dauvillier, Toulouse, 1979, 743–752; reprint in his Croisés, Missionaires et Voyageurs, London, 1983, no. V. J. Sourdel-Thomine, ‘Épigraphie et paléographie arabes’, Annuaire. École Pratique des Hautes Études (Paris). IV e Section: Sciences Historiques et Philologiques 105 (1972–73), 189–190. 12 It was also the subject of three exceedingly ill-conceived lines in B. Hamilton, The Latin Church in the Crusader States: the Secular Church, London, 1980, 98.

160

    

Like the other shrine-churches of the Holy Land, St Mary of Josaphat had relatively few possessions in the East and, after the fall of Jerusalem, found itself in some difficulty. Fortunately, the abbey had received extensive benefactions in the principality of Antioch, including a house in the city itself, which it had held since at least March 1182.13 In the spring of 1207, abbot Amatus sent the prior Arnald and brother John to Antioch. They found that the abbey’s property had been badly neglected, and agreed with a local Latin priest that he should take it in hand. In May 1207, abbot Amatus confirmed the agreement made between his representatives and the deacon John, son of Elias de Cursalt, a clerk of the Latin patriarch of Antioch, Peter I of Angoulême (1196–1208).14 John was admitted as a confrater of Josaphat and, in the court of the patriarch, in the presence of many worthy citizens, he was granted ‘a certain neglected estate ( guastina) of ours, which is next to the House of the Hospital, in which is situated a certain oratory in honour of the glorious Mother of God, which we find to be ruined and unroofed’.15 John promised to repair the oratory so that the brothers of Josaphat might celebrate the mass there when they came to Antioch. He also undertook to build a house, to plant trees, to bring the orchard back under cultivation, and to recover any of the church’s possessions that had been alienated. On these conditions, John was to hold the guastina, including the house and the oratory, for the duration of his life. Our document reveals that the deacon John did not keep his side of the bargain. Six years after he had taken charge of it, the prop13 H.E. Mayer, Varia Antiochena. Studien zum Kreuzfahrerfürstentum Antiochia im 12. und frühen 13, Jahrhundert, Studien und Texte 6, Hanover, 1903, 118–121. See also C. Kohler, ‘Chartes de l’abbaye de Notre-Dame de Josaphat’, Revue de l’Orient Latin 7 (1900), 151–153; Delaborde, Chartes, 26–27; C. Cahen, La Syrie du Nord à l’époque des croisades et la principauté franque d’Antioche, Paris, 1940, 325–326; Richard, ‘Église latine’, 744. 14 Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64. (We had hoped to publish a new edition of this Latin document from Antonio Amico’s transcription in the Biblioteca Comunale, Palermo, MS Qq.H.ii, ff. 318–19—but that much troubled library was once again closed for restoration.) Neither the prior Arnald nor brother John is mentioned elsewhere. For Cursalt, see below, Commentary l. 4. 15 Richard, ‘Église latine’, 744, assumes that this property was identical to the abbey’s house first mentioned in March 1182—in Antiochia domum unam (Mayer, Varia Antiochena, 120)—but this is far from clear. Note that John undertook to repair the oratory (promisit . . . oratorium reparare), but to build a house (Tenetur etiam domum quandam ibi haedificare)—not, as Richard insists, à reconstruire la maison. The Arabic document makes no mention of a house, but only of the ruined church. For the location of our gastina, see below, Commentary l. 22.

       161 erty was still in ruins and costing John money, so that he was anxious to be rid of it (l. 5). He had approached a Greek Orthodox priest, al-Mawadd li-llàh, and had attempted to persuade him to take over the property and to restore the oratory, even offering to assist him in doing so. But al-Mawadd li-llàh was unwilling to hold the property from John, whose lease was to expire on his death, and would only accept it on the condition that it was granted to him in perpetuity. John tried to find someone else to take over the ruin, but without success (ll. 6–7). He therefore appealed to Paganus, the local prior of St Mary Latin, who was now responsible for the business of Josaphat in Antioch (ll. 8–9). Prior Paganus visited the ruin, and agreed that it was of no use to Josaphat. He therefore sought the consent of Simon, an official of the Latin patriarchate, to transfer the title from John to al-Mawadd li-llàh (ll. 9–10). The property was duly leased to al-Mawadd li-llàh in perpetuity for the annual sum of two dinars, one dinar in cash and the remainder—presumably—in kind. The rent was to be paid in August at the end of each indictional year, but was to be remitted for the first two years in order to help him to restore the chapel (ll. 11–13). Al-Mawadd li-llàh was to begin to reconstruct the chapel immediately and was to maintain it but, so long as he paid on time, he and his heirs were to have complete control of the property, without any interference on the part of Josaphat (ll. 13–18). Were their rights to the property to be challenged by a third party, Josaphat was bound to come to their defence (ll. 18–19). An Arabic contract was drawn up to that effect in the last ten days of March 6721 of the Byzantine era (1213 AD), and a Latin translation of it was read out to prior Paganus and deacon John, who placed their crosses at the head of the Arabic. Their witnesses then signed at its foot, and prior Paganus affixed his wax seal. There were a few lines of Latin at the beginning and end of the Arabic that are likely to have included the inscriptiones of Paganus and John, and the signatures of their witnesses.16 Finally, a notary made an official copy of the contract (without the Latin), and four witnesses testified that it was an exact copy of the original. The original contract was given to al-Mawadd li-llàh, while the copy—our document—was dispatched to the archive of Josaphat.17 16 17

For an alternative hypothesis, see Richard, ‘Église latine’, 745. Cahen (‘Un document’, 288) is clearly mistaken in his assumption that the

162

    

That our document is written in Arabic deserves some comment. Steven Runciman argued persuasively that Crusader Antioch was a profoundly ‘Greek’ society.18 But, as Claude Cahen cautioned, this should not be allowed to give the false impression that all ‘Greeks’ were ethnically Greek Hellenophones. On the contrary, most of the ‘Greek’ Orthodox, except for a small urban elite, were native Syrians who spoke Arabic and used Syriac as a liturgical language.19 The priest al-Mawadd li-llàh clearly belonged to this majority, and that is why our contract was composed in Arabic. But, as the text also makes clear, neither Paganus, the prior of St Mary Latin, nor the deacon John could understand Arabic (l. 23). This in itself is remarkable. But still more extraordinary is that the document should have been composed in Arabic for Josaphat, and that the copy in the abbey’s archive was not Latin. We should rather have expected the contract to have been composed in Latin, and an Arabic copy to have been made for al-Mawadd li-llàh, so that the original contract would have been deposited in the archive of Josaphat.20 A possible explanation is that prior Paganus was willing to go to extraordinary lengths on behalf of Josaphat to ensure that their chapel would be restored.21 The Arabic term used for the rent to be paid by al-Mawadd lillàh is dìmùs, plural dìmùsàt (ll. 12–15, 17–18); his heirs who will inherit the lease to the property are called mutadammisùn (l. 15); and the verb dammasa 'alà means to ‘lease to’ (l. 10). These terms are all originally derived from Greek, where the neuter form dèmosion, from the adjective dèmosios meaning ‘belonging to the state’, came to have the specialised meaning of a ‘state tax’ and, thence, ‘tax’ in general. In modern Lebanon and Syria, Arabic dìmùs has come to mean an invariable annual payment made for a property to the state or its representative. In our document, dìmùs means the fixed annual rent to be paid by al-Mawadd li-llàh and his heirs for the lease of the

original contract was composed in Latin, and that our document is a translation. See also Richard, ‘Église latine’, 745. 18 S. Runciman, ‘The Greeks in Antioch at the time of the Crusades’, Actes du e 9 Congrès d’Études Byzantines (Thessaloniki, 1953), 3 vols, Athens, 1955–58, ii, 583–91. 19 Cahen, Syrie, 187; S. Runciman, The Eastern Schism, Oxford, 1955, 100; Cahen, ‘Un document’, 289 and notes 10–11. 20 Cahen, ‘Un document’, 288. See also note 17 above. 21 See the final paragraph of this article on p. 169.

       163 property, and it is made absolutely explicit that their rights in Josaphat’s property are heritable and perpetual (ll. 15–16): in short, dìmùs here means an emphyteutic lease.22 Perpetual leases (sing. kirà" mu"abbad ), roughly equivalent to Roman law emphyteutic leases, are attested in Islamic law but, as argued in the next paragraph, the format of our document does not correspond to any known medieval Islamic lease: it is therefore likely that our document was based upon a Christian Arabic model.23 It is interesting to find the Latin patriarch of Antioch, Peter II of Ivrea (1209–17), less than two years before the date of our document, leasing extensive lands in emphyteusis with the express approval of pope Innocent III.24 Josaphat was not alone in resorting to this less-than-orthodox means of managing its property. As to its format, our document is unique and no close parallels can be found for its diplomatic structure as a whole: although written in Arabic, it bears little resemblance to a lease composed under Islamic law.25 Nonetheless, it was evidently drawn up by a competent professional scribe, and it is probable that he had a clear model in mind. An opening note establishes the diplomatic status of the document (ll. 1–2). The Christian basmala serves as the invocatio in the standard manner (l. 3). Next, instead of the expected opening hàdhà mà akrà fulàn min fulàn . . . (‘This is what X leased from Y. . .’),

22 R.P.A. Dozy, Supplément aux dictionnaires arabes, 2 vols, Leiden, 1881; reprint Beirut, 1991, i, 460; R. Mantran and J. Sauvaget, Règlements fiscaux ottomans. Les provinces syriennes, Paris, 1951, 5. Trovato (Sopravvivenze Arabe, 78) and Richard (‘Église latine’, 746) both regard this as an emphyteutic lease—as indeed it is, despite Cahen’s unjustified denial (‘Un document’, 292, note 16). 23 For the concept of lease in medieval Islamic law, see R. Brunschvig, ‘Propriétaire et locataire d’immeuble en droit musulman médiéval ( jusque vers l’an 1200), Studia Islamica 52 (1980) 5–40. We are aware of no close parallel for our document in Christian Arabic—nor in Greek, nor in Latin. 24 Innocent III, Regestorum, 4 vols, ed. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina, 214–217, Paris, 1855, iii, 435: XIV.71 (7 June 1211); Hamilton, Latin Church, 222–223, 282–283. For questions surrounding the leasing of church lands in the Latin East see, Richard, ‘Église latine’, 747. 25 For examples of Arabic leases from the Egyptian papyri, see: A. Grohmann, Arabic Papyri in the Egyptian Library. Volume II: Legal Texts, Cairo, 1936, 73–94, nos 89–94; D.S. Margoliouth, Catalogue of Arabic Papyri in the John Rylands Library Manchester, Manchester, 1933, 103–105, nos 3–5. For examples of Arabic leases from the Cairo Geniza, and for the most useful analysis of the diplomatic format of Arabic leases, see G. Khan, Arabic Legal and Administrative Documents in the Cambridge Genizah Collections, Cambridge University Library Genizah Series 10, Cambridge, 1993, 141–190, nos 21–31.

164

    

comes a discursive narratio giving the circumstances leading to the present contract, delivered in the first person by the deacon John (ll. 4–10). The transition from the narratio to the dispositio is presumably signalled by the phrase wa-dammasa 'alay-hi al-abriyùr (l. 10), but at this point the voice still belongs to the deacon John, or possibly to the scribe. An initially shaky switch to the voice of prior Paganus, addressing al-Mawadd li-llàh in the vocative, distinguishes the shar† (ll. 14–19). The boundaries described in the ˙add do not follow the standard Islamic order beginning with the qibla, but instead start in the east, and then proceed to the west, south and north (ll. 19–22): if it was indeed the direction of prayer that determined the order, perhaps our document adheres to a Christian Arabic tradition that began with the east.26 The corroboratio opens with an abbreviated stock formula—bi-dhàlika wa-ßi˙˙ati-hi—but is otherwise composed ad hoc (ll. 22–24). The datatio follows the Byzantine model, except in the very Arabic use of the last decade of the month (ll. 24–25). The motto wa-bi-llàh al-tawfìq serves as the apprecatio (l. 25). That the scribe has taken trouble to reproduce the exact position of the seal, without describing its appearance, may suggest that he was not routinely familiar with the practice of sealing (l. 26). The witness formulae all follow the same pattern, and appear to be taken straight from the formulary (ll. 26–32). The main interest of this document is for the light that it casts upon relations between the Latin and the Greek Orthodox churches in Antioch in the early thirteenth century. After the conquest of Antioch by the Franks in 1097, according to the terms agreed between the leaders of the first crusade and the Byzantine authorities, the Latin clergy were to observe their own rite whilst acknowledging the authority of the Greek hierarchy. But, when war broke out with the emperor Alexius in spring 1100, prince Bohemond of Antioch evicted the Greek patriarch and elevated a Latin to his throne. From this time the two churches were effectively in schism in Antioch. A Latin hierarchy was soon established throughout those five provinces of the ancient patriarchate that were in Frankish hands.27 The Latins regarded the Greeks as members of the same catholic church to which they themselves belonged, and Greek Christians were subject to Latin 26 W. Hoenerbach, ‘Some notes on the legal language of Christian and Islamic deeds’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 81 (1961) 35–36. 27 Cahen, Syrie, 308–323; Hamilton, Latin Church, 18–38.

       165 bishops. The Greek parish clergy and monks had religious freedom under their Latin bishops, and most spoke Arabic and used Syriac for liturgical purposes; only the educated urban elite, who spoke Greek and worshipped in churches that used the Byzantine liturgy, are likely to have missed their Greek bishops.28 The Greek used their own churches—in Antioch, after the expulsion of the Greek patriarch from St Peter’s, the church of St Mary Rotunda29—and there was generally no Latin interference with Greek usage or doctrine. For all that, Byzantium understandably resented the fact that a Latin occupied the throne of St Peter.30 After the expulsion of the Greek patriarch from Antioch in 1100, the Byzantines had refused to recognise his Latin successor, and had appointed a Greek titular patriarch to the see.31 At the treaty of Devol in 1107, after defeating Bohemond I in the Adriatic, Alexius had extracted from him a promise that the patriarch of Antioch would thenceforth be Greek Orthodox and appointed by the emperor.32 But this was never observed by Tancred, the true ruler of Antioch. In 1136–37, John Comnenus almost succeeded in regaining control of Antioch and evicting the Latin patriarch, but was called back to Constantinople before he could do so.33 During the 1140s and ’50s, the advance of first Zanjì and then Nùr al-Dìn forced the princes of Antioch to depend ever more heavily upon Byzantine support: Claude Cahen described this period of Antioch’s history as ‘le protectorat byzantin’.34 In 1165, when the young Bohemond III went to Constantinople in search of funds, he was obliged to agree to the restoration of the Greek Athanasius II to the throne in St Peter’s. The Latin patriarch removed himself to the castle of Qußayr, whence he launched

28

Runciman, Eastern Schism, 100. G. Bresc-Bautier, Le Cartulaire du chapitre du Saint-Sépulcre de Jérusalem, Documents relatifs à l’histoire des croisades publiés par l’Académie des inscriptions et belleslettres 15, Paris, 1984, 178–183, no. 77; Cahen, Syrie, 334. 30 Runciman, Eastern Schism, 91–97 is still the most readable and succint account. 31 V. Grumel, ‘Les Patriarches Grecs d’Antioche du nom de Jean (XIe et XIIe siècles), Echos d’Orient 32 (1933), 295–296. 32 Anna Comnena, Alexiad, XIII.xii, 20, ed. and Fr. trans. B. Leib, 4 vols, Paris, 1937–76, iii, 134. 33 J.M. Hussey, ‘Byzantium and the Crusades’, in K.M. Setton, ed., A History of the Crusades, 6 vols, Madison, Milwaukee, and London, 1969–89, ii, 133–134; for the early history of Latin Antioch, see now T.S. Asbridge, The Creation of the Principality of Antioch, 1098–1130, Woodbridge, 2000. 34 Cahen, Syrie, 410–434. 29

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    

anathemas against the Latins of Antioch.35 Neither Greek nor Latin sources discuss the restoration of Athanasius, which was brought to a dramatic end in 1170 by the earthquake that killed him, and so nothing is known of how the Latin clergy of Antioch fared under a Greek patriarch, but there is no suggestion that Athanasius attempted to dismantle the Latin hierarchy.36 On his death, the new titular Greek patriarch, Cyril II, remained in Constantinople, and the throne of Antioch returned to the Latins.37 The balance of power in Antioch between the Greeks and the Latins did not change significantly until the early thirteenth century. By then, half the Latin patriarchate had been lost to Íalà˙ al-Dìn, and the Latin church had fled north from Jerusalem, suddenly increasing its concentration in the principality of Antioch. Both the fall of Jerusalem and the Latin capture of Constantinople in 1204 resulted in more direct and greater interference by the pope of Rome in the affairs of the principality. The pope was also closely interested in the rise of the Rubenid kingdom of Cilician Armenia and, during the mid 1190s, had arranged for Levon II to receive the royal title and crown from the western emperor Henry VI in return for union of the Armenian church with Rome. After 1204, the prince of Antioch was relieved from the threat of Byzantine intervention, and free to deploy the Greek church, and even the Byzantine emperor in exile, to his own political ends.38 Political structures in Antioch itself also changed when prince Bohemond III was seized by Levon II in 1193. The citizens of Antioch, interpreting this as the prelude to an Armenian attack upon the city, formed a commune under the guidance of the Latin patriarch.39 The commune, which was predominantly Greek Orthodox 35

Michael the Syrian, Chronicle, ed. and Fr. trans. J.-B. Chabot, 4 vols, Paris, 1899–1910, iii, 326 (XVIII.11). For Qußayr, see below, Commentary l. 4. 36 Hamilton, Latin Church, 176–177. 37 V. Grumel, ‘Notes pour l’“Oriens Christianus”’, Echos d’Orient 33 (1934), 53–54. 37 Cahen, Syrie, 590–635; Runciman, ‘Greeks in Antioch’, 587–589; S. Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols, Cambridge, 1951–54, iii, 135–39; J. Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem and Cyprus, c. 1050–1310, A History of the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem 1, London, 1967, 152–60; M.N. Hardwicke, ‘The Crusader States, 1192–1243’, in Setton, Crusades, ii, 526–528, 532–538; S. Der Nersessian, ‘The Kingdom of Cilician Armenia’, in Setton, Crusades, ii, 645–551; Hamilton, Latin Church, 212–23; J.G. Ghazarian, The Armenian Kingdom in Cilicia during the Crusades. The Integration of Cilician Armenians with the Latins, 1080–1393, Richmond, 2000, 122–128. 39 Cahen, Syrie, 582–584; M.N. Hardwicke, ‘The Crusader States, 1192–1243’, in Setton, Crusades, ii, 526–528.

       167 in composition, was not dissolved after Bohemond’s release and, on his death in 1201, played a leading role in the struggle for the succession. There were two contenders: Raymond Ruben, the issue of the marriage between Bohemond III’s son, Raymond, and Alice, the niece of Levon II; and the late prince’s younger son, also called Bohemond. Immediately on hearing of his father’s death, the latter secured the support of the commune and seized the principality as Bohemond IV. The Greek population, and some of the Latins, were anxious to exclude Armenian influence from court. But the Latin patriarch, Peter I of Angoulême, refused to invest Bohemond. Many of the Latin nobility had already pledged themselves to support Raymond Ruben and now fled to join Levon II who hurried with Alice and Raymond to lay siege to Antioch. Only the intervention of al-¸àhir Ghàzì, the Ayyùbid ruler of Aleppo, in support of Bohemond, forced Levon to withdraw.40 Levon expected papal support in his struggle with Bohemond IV for control of Antioch, but Bohemond effectively out-manouvered the legates dispatched by Innocent III to negotiate a settlement, and then did homage for Antioch to the wife of the Latin emperor Baldwin, thereby legitimising his claim and putting himself on the same legal footing as Levon.41 Peter of Angoulême had aligned himself with the Armenian faction in the city against the Greeks, and had gone so far as to support Raymond’s claim to the principality and the alliance with Levon. In the winter of 1205–6, Peter fell out with the papal legate over clerical appointments in the principality, was deprived of his powers of interdiction and excommunication, and was himself excommunicated.42 The commune of Antioch, with Bohemond’s support, seized this opportunity to place the Greek Orthodox Symeon II on the patriarchal throne. Peter submitted to the papal

40

Cahen, Syrie, 596–601. Cahen, Syrie, 601–608. 42 Innocent III, Regestorum, ii, 555–559: VIII.1–2 (5 Mar. 1205), 687–692: VIII.119 (undated, but probably July 1205). The dates of these and subsequent events are crucial for this study. They are fixed by the letters of Innocent III, not by the narrative sources. Note, in particular, that the quarrel between Peter of Angoulême and the papal legate was well underway by 20 April 1206 (ii, 863–864: IX.52–3), was continuing in early 1207 (ii, 1083: IX.253), and was over by 9 January 1208 (ii, 1278–1282: X.186); that Innocent had learnt of Symeon’s enthronement before 9 January 1208; that he did not then know of Peter’s rebellion, but became aware of it by 13 February (ii, 1321–1323: X.214); and that he seems to have heard of Peter’s death between 9 and 12 July 1208 (ii, 1427–1429: X.108, 110). See Cahen, Syrie, 613, notes 40–41. 41

168

    

legate and was reinstated as the Latin patriarch. He immediately excommunicated Symeon, Bohemond and their followers, and placed Antioch under an interdict. But Bohemond’s Latin supporters were received into communion with the Greek church, and Bohemond sought to ally himself with the Greek emperor Theodore Lascaris of Nicaea.43 Towards the end of 1207, Peter of Angoulême led Bohemond’s Latin opponents in a rebellion and invited Levon into the city, but Bohemond was able to crush the revolt and expel the Armenians. Peter was imprisoned and died before July 1208. Pope Innocent III ordered the patriarch of Jerusalem to excommunicate all the rebels and supporters of the Greek patriarch, including Bohemond, and to supervise the election of a new Latin patriarch, Peter II of Ivrea.44 But Bohemond held out for another four years or more, and Antioch continued to have two rival patriarchs, the Latin Peter II and the Greek Symeon II.45 Before 28 February 1213, however, Symeon had left Antioch and was being harboured by Levon II. In exile, he seems at first to have ruled the Greek church in Antioch from the Latin cathedral of Tarsus, whence Levon had expelled the canons.46 But when Levon won control of Antioch in 1216, and Raymond did homage to the Latin patriarch Peter II and was consecrated prince of Antioch, Symeon, too, was obliged to make submission to the Latin patriarch. He later went to the Byzantine court in exile at Nicaea, and there did penance for having entered into communion with the Latins, before being restored to the Greek Orthodox communion.47 The circumstances surrounding our document thus belong to the height of the conflict between the Greeks and the Latins in Antioch. When the Latin deed of May 1207 was confirmed in the court of

43 Innocent III, Regestorum, ii, 1278–1282: X.186 (9 Jan. 1208), 1345: XI.9 (4 Mar. 1208). C. Karalevskij, ‘Antioche’, in A. Baudrillart, P. Richard, U. Rouziès and A. Vogt, eds, Dictionnaire d’Histoire et de Géographie Ecclésiastiques, 27 vols to date, Paris, 1912—in progress, iii, 617–618 (citing Vatican MS Arab 79, f.317 for Symeon’s Arabic name—Ibn Abì Shayba, ‘fils du père des cheveux blancs’). Cahen, Syrie, 610–613; Hamilton, Latin Church, 217–218, 313–315. 44 Innocent III, Regestorum, ii, 1428–1429: XI.110 (12 July 1208). 45 Innocent III, Regestorum, iii, 46–48: XII.38–39 (26 May 1209). Cahen, Syrie, 615–623. 46 Innocent III, Regestorum, iii, 784–786 (XVI.2). 47 V. Laurent, ed., Les Regestes des actes du patriarcat de Constantinople. Vol. I: les actes des patriarches. Fasc. IV: les regestes de 1208 à 1309, Institut Français d’Études Byzantines, Le Patriachat Byzantin, Série I, Paris, 1971, 28, no. 1220.

       169 the patriarch, Peter I of Angoulême, he had been deprived of some of his patriarchal powers and excommunicated by the papal legate, while the throne of St Peter was occupied by the Greek Symeon II.48 The troubled events of the following decade, with repeated Armenian invasions and local rebellions, may explain why the deacon John was so unwilling to restore Josaphat’s property. And our contract of March 1213 was signed only weeks after Symeon II had fled, leaving Peter I in sole possession of the patriarchal throne. It is thus striking that, despite the schism between the Latin and the Greek patriarchs, a Latin abbey was nonetheless content to grant its chapel to Greek priest. It may be significant that both Josaphat and St Mary Latin had their origins in Jerusalem, where the history of relations between the Latins and the Greeks had been very different, and far more harmonious, than in Antioch.49 Indeed, the Greeks had had their own altar in the shrine of Our Lady of Josaphat.50 AlMawadd li-llàh was evidently not in any sense entering into communion with the Latin church by leasing the property from Josaphat; even though a ruined chapel lay on the land, this was a purely business arrangement.51 But the abbot of Josaphat does not seem to have abandoned his original desire, expressed in the Latin deed of 1207, that the chapel be restored so that his monks might celebrate divine office when they came to Antioch: al-Mawadd li-llàh was not just bound to rebuild the chapel, but he had to begin to do so at once, and the dìmùs was remitted for two years in order to assist him to do so. Just as the Greeks had once celebrated the liturgy in the shrine of Our Lady of Josaphat, so the exiled Latins hoped in future to celebrate the mass in the Greek Orthodox chapel of Our Lady al-Shabùba.52

48

See above, note 42. Hamilton, Latin church, 169–171. 50 Theoderick of Würzberg, Libellus de locis sanctis, Editiones Heidelbergenses 18, Heidelberg, 1976, 31 (the Suriani are the indigenous Orthodox Christians); trans. A. Stewart, Palestine Pilgrims Text Society, London, 1891; 2nd edn, New York, 1986, 38. 51 Richard, ‘Église latine’, 747. 52 Pace Richard, ‘Église latine’, 746: ‘il n’était plus question pour les moines de Josaphat de venir y célébrer, à l’occasion, les offices’. 49

170

     Text

Palermo, Archivio di Stato (Gancia), Tabulario del monastero di Santa Maria Maddalena, poi San Placido di Calonerò, Pergamena no. 81 Physical description Maximum dimensions: 426 mm × 535 mm. Parchment of medium thickness. While the document was in the archive of S. Placido (see Notes on verso, below), it was sewn into a codex down the left edge, which is now badly damaged. The lower edge of the sheet is badly worm-eaten. There is a crescent-shaped tear on the right edge, at ll. 8–9. Before it was sewn into the codex, the sheet was rolled and flattened on several occasions, leaving multiple folds across its width; it was also folded three times lengthwise. The text is worn along some of these folds. There is no sign that the sheet was prepared by the scribe—no ruled margin, no ruled lines—nevertheless, the text is well organised in evenly spaced, horizontal lines of regular length. The ink is dull, medium to dark brown. The hand is a fluid, practised cursive, with fairly frequent diacritical points, and few vowels (wa- is regularly vowelled). The kursìs, pointed or not, are usually clearly distinguished, but may occasionally be obscured or omitted altogether (most conspicuously in ki[t]àb in ll. 2, 18–19, 23, 25–28 and 30).The letter kàf is indicated by a vertical or diagonal stroke, without a cross-stroke, but usually with a miniature, hamza-like letter kàf written above the letter. The rà" is fairly consistently marked with a caret; sìn is also marked with a caret, but less regularly. Fà" and qàf are pointed in the standard (‘sharqì’) manner. Tà" marbù†a is consistently written without points. The scribe does not write hamza (and we have not referred to its absence, against Classical Arabic— henceforth CA, in the footnotes to the text). The position occupied by the seal on the original (of which this is the copy) is indicated by a crudely drawn circle containing the words ‘The place of the seal’. The signatures of the witnesses are autographs, written in the same ink as the text. Notes on recto All are omitted by Cusa. Translata nel X 36. segnata X[?].3 a f. 286— top left, black ink, eighteenth-century? (same hand as similar note on verso)—f. 286 has been struck through and overwritten with fogl. 168° in brown ink. In the top right corner is written 286, in the same hand and ink as note (c) on the verso. It has not been possi-

       171 ble to trace the Italian translation mentioned in this note and in verso note (d) below. The folio numbers presumably refer to the codex into which our document was once bound, and from which it was subsequently extracted, probably after entering the Archivio di Stato in 1877. Notes on verso All are omitted by Cusa. (a) Hoc est transumptum [. . . lacuna . . .] h(abe)t p(res)b(ite)r Emanuel grec(us)/de Geth[. . .]ia[?] de Josaphat [. . . lacuna . . .] net ad ce(n)su[m] pro n(o)b(is) an-/tiochie Very faded and damaged; uncertain reading. Lower left of sheet; medium brown ink; thirteenth century? (b) Josaphe(t) Upper middle; light brown ink; eighteenth century? (c) S. Placido f. 286 Upper right; black ink; eighteenth century (same hand as number on recto). (d) Translata in lingua italiana nel 1773/e registrata nel X[?].36 segnato X.3 a f(oglio) 168/[Unread monogram]. Upper left, below note (c); black ink; eighteenth century? (same hand as similar note on recto). (e) ARCHIVIO DI STATO/PALERMO/Tabo mono S./Maria Maddalena/poi S. Placido/di Caloneró/Perg a n. 81 Lower right; stamp in black ink with numerals added in blue biro.

Arabic Text 53

55

54

57

56

59

58

60

53

MS appears to say: \Uu‰LaUu. MS also appears to have a point over the first letter, i.e.: na¨". 55 Cusa: L]. 56 The word ¯£N∏µßáais heavily written, perhaps corrected. 57 Cusa omits ≤Î£ßLahere. 58 Cusa: ”Vra(the MS is unpointed). 59 CA: ∏£¡£Tfl ‡∆S cf. S. Hopkins, Studies in the Grammar of Early Arabic Based upon Papyri Datable to before 300 AH/912 AD, London Oriental Series 37, Oxford, 1984, 160–166 and literature there cited. 60 Cusa omits; the word is just discernable under the Wood lamp. 54

    

172

61

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61

78

Cusa: º¬£C‰Ba˜B o‰M‰K see Commentary. Cusa: º¬Jr see Commentary. 63 MS: nU¨˚£L. 64 The MS fat˙a, as elsewhere, lies well behind the letter wàw to which it belongs. 65 Cusa: oaÎLau. The dàl does swing up high to descend. Seamlessly joined to the yà"; but the descent is at a diagonal angle (cf., e.g. MS o’La in l. 10; oÎ†∫I in l. 13), not a parallel one, which appears to be the practice in this hand for showing unorthodox connections forward into alif. The tashdìd actually appears over the dàl. 66 CA: º¡∫∆I ÂL. Cf. Hopkins, Early Arabic, 83, 85–86 and literature there cited. 67 The MS appears more like: ∏U˚U¬M. 68 Cusa: a]a. 69 MS apparently: ∏OBÜHÜM. 70 ra‰Fa presumably from French frère. 71 Cusa: ‰MaCA: ‰Ma. On such ‘pseudo-corrections’ by the addition of tanwìn alif in a circumstantial clause, see Hopkins, Early Arabic, 168–171 and literature there cited. 72 The vowel in the MS is in fact scarcely distinguishable from a fat˙a; see the same word in l. 4. 73 MS apparently: rU¨K’ãa. 74 MS apparently: rU¨Ma. 75 Cusa omits. 76 Cusa: hÎJuu. The fà" is definitely pointed. CA: ∏Ba‰" hÎJ¨F. This omission of tanwìn alif, against CA, may reflect the spoken language (see note 39 below): Hopkins, Early Arabic, 160–161. 77 MS apparently: rU¨K’ãa. 78 Cusa: ÍçLa; but the formula here clearly imitates the same occurring above in l. 4. 79 Cusa: Ó†Ma‰|. 62

       173 80

81

82

83

85

84

86

87

88

89

93

94

97

80

90

91

92

96

95

MS apparently: mU¨çI. ∏˙∫∫S; but the introduction to sìn here, though unpointed, is sufficiently raised to be discerned as a bearer for bà"; and cf. below, ll. 13 & 18. 82 Cusa: Ç¬:; but an initial alif, parallel to the alif of the preceding word, mà, to which it is joined, is clear. 83 Cusa: ∏†¡S but there is clearly one more kursì in the MS. 84 MS apparently: rU¨K’ãa. 85 Again, the putative ∂amma is scarcely distinguishable from fat˙a. 86 Cusa omits; ¯¬˙ãaºF is just discernable under the Wood lamp. 87 Cusa: flu. 88 Cusa: ºLÏ. 89 Reading yata"awwal. 90 MS apparently: hU¨J¨La. 91 CA: aÎ|au∏µHrd. Again, the omission of tanwìn alif may reflect spoken language (see note 24 above). 92 MS apparently: mU¨çI. 93 Cusa: Â˚«†L. The verb is unpointed: see Commentary. 94 Cusa: ÂH∏S¨ïÎB. 95 Reading tu'lì. 96 MS apparently: B∏¡∫|aUuUu; Cusa: I∏∫Jauu. 97 Cusa: wa‰Ea but the scribe has raised his pen (to create a kursì ) after the 'ayn in a way that he does not, e.g., after the 'ayn in Ó†F‰E in l. 9. 81

    

174

98

99

100

101

102

103

104 105

106

107

108

111

109

110 113

98

112

MS apparently: hU¨JU¨La. Cusa: nau. 100 Cusa: maÎC. 101 Reading thus with Cusa, although a bearer for tà" is scarcely discernable; cf. ll. 19, 23, where it is completely absent. 102 Cusa: B ∏∫Ea. 103 Cusa: ÎW. 104 Cusa: ´Bra. 105 See Commentary. 106 See Commentary. 107 Cusa: fld‰M. 108 Cusa: ‰IÎLaoa]amad‰ßLa. See Commentary. 109 Cusa: Ó∫«Vu. 110 Cusa: ∫N∏áu∏¡≠†Sau. 111 This is the one instance in the document where an incontrovertible ∂amma appears; but it is so very exaggerated that it does not encourage the assumption that other ∂ammas were never intended in the text. 112 MS apparently: º¬YxUE. 113 MS: º¬Ê. 99

       175

114

115

117

118

119

120

122

116

121

123

124

114

Cusa: rada—MS unpointed. CA: fflÌ¯†S. The scribe does not lift his pen once in executing this word, which is joined also to the following wàw. The 1000s element is probably written in scriptio defectiva. 116 Cusa: s¨¬£M¨¡La—but this should be read as an alternative spelling of s¨ç£M¨¡La in l. 22, using, instead of the qàf, a kàf undistinguished by a miniature letter; cf. l. 31, where s¨˚£M¨¡La is figured with kàf in its full glory. (Cusa’s edition stops before this point.) 117 Cusa: Í£ßçLa. 118 Cusa’s reading—see Commentary. 119 Sic! for ¯æß¡La. On the shift sìn > ßàd, see J. Blau, A Grammar of Christian Arabic, Based Mainly on South-Palestinian Texts from the First Millennium, Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Subsidia 27–29, Louvain, 1966–67, 111–112. 120 Cusa: ∏µ˙TÎJuu. 121 Cusa: Í£ßçLa. 122 Cusa: Í£ßçLa. 123 CA: öIu∏ß†M—MS n∏Iu∏ß†M is perhaps to be regarded as hyper-correction: see Blau, Christian Arabic, 221–222 (frequent in South Palestine); and Hopkins, Early Arabic, 101, 113 (infrequent in Egypt). 124 See above, note 71. 115

176

     Translation

1

/Copy 2/of the original document, without addition or omission. /† In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. 4/I, Jawàn (i.e. John), deacon of the church of holy Mar Ba†rus (i.e. St Peter), declare the following After Arnàd (i.e. Arnald), prior of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane, had granted to me the ruined church that goes by the name of [Our] Lady al-Shabùba(?) 5/with the land and all else that pertains to it, and written for me a document in Latin to that effect, the place remained in my possession until this our time. And I have always and forever borne personally the expense arising from the dilapidation of the place, because it is a church. I therefore approached 6/the priest, al-Mawadd li-llàh Kir Yaray ibn Ayraqìlì (i.e. ‘the Friend of God, Sir Priest, the son of Heraclius’?), and I asked him to take over the place, and to restore the church, and [offered] to assist him in restoring it with my own means, so that I and my parents might be commemorated in it forever. But he would not agree to that from me, until 7/and only until [such time as] the place became his absolute property in perpetuity—for it had been given to me according to the terms mentioned. The matter was left at that, because I could not find anyone else who would take it over from me, because of its dilapidation and total state of ruin. Therefore, after ascertaining 8/that the most excellent Brother Bàyàn (i.e. Paganus), prior of [Our] Lady [St Mary] Latin, had taken over the management of the properties of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane in Antioch, and had authority from Brother Adàm (i.e. Adam), prior of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane, and from the chapter of the brothers of the aforesaid monastery, 9/so that whatsoever he were to do regarding the affairs of the monastery would be confirmed, I went to him and told him of that matter. He proceeded to the place, and found it a ruin, and judged that no benefit would come to the monastery from it, neither small nor great. So I brought 10/the aforesaid priest into his presence, and handed over to him the Latin document that belonged to me. The aforesaid prior leased the property to him with the consent of al-mawlà al-dayyàn of the church of holy St Peter, Ser Sìmùn (i.e. Ser Simon)—may God perpetuate 11/his guardianship!—so that the place would permanently become property belonging to him, or to whomsoever will take his place, always and forever. In the month of August of each calendar year ('àm), every year (sana), he will pay for the church, to the part of the afore3

       177 said monastery, the sum of two dinars—half of that, one dinar, in ready money 12/—after the dìmùs has been remitted him for two years—this year in which we now are, the year of the 1st Indiction, being the first of the two, and [the other] the year of the 2nd Indiction—in order to assist him in rebuilding the aforesaid church. Thus, the start of the payment of the dìmùs to the 13/monastery of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane will be from the month of August in the 3rd Indiction. It will be incumbent upon him to rebuild the church, to begin its reconstruction from this our time, and to concern himself with its care and restoration, and with the payment of its dìmùs each year at the time 14/specified. As long as he continues to pay his dìmùs, neither the part of the monastery, nor I, the prior Paganus, nor anyone who is entrusted after me with the management of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane, will have cause to look for [any further return] from you, O aforesaid priest, nor from anyone who takes your place, for 15/whatsoever reason; nor the right to take from you a single dirham more, or anything else besides, in that regard. As of now, you, and whosoever takes your place, has control over this property, so that all the mutadammisùn [who come after you], with their perpetual and eternal dìmùsàt, can exercise absolute 16/authority, while you [and those who come after you] may build and construct according to your rights and your needs, as you wish and as you choose, without yourself, or whomsoever takes your place, meeting any obstruction whatsoever. But if you, O priest, or whosoever takes 17/your place, should fail to pay the dìmùs within the appointed time, as explained [above], and should a year pass, whatever year that might be, and should even only fifteen days of the next have passed, it will be for the part of the holy monastery to repossess the place 18/and to exact the dìmùs in full, whereupon it will return the place to your control. Should it happen—God forbid!—that anyone seek to challenge the validity of this document, or to trouble you on account of this site, or [to trouble] whomsoever takes your place, or whomsoever is given 19/this document, the part of the holy monastery must reject the accuser and repel him, and come to your defence, or to that of whomsoever takes your place, with the [proper] proof, and will confirm that the site belongs to you, or to whomsoever takes your place, without loss or penalty. There surround 20 /this place and enclose it four boundaries: the first, on the east to the open road; the second, on the west, ending at the open space and the neglected estate that is below the big, baked-brick gh.màdh.n;

178

    

the third, on the 21/south, ending at the house and garden of Yànì l-Kàmìlàrì (i.e. John the Camel-driver) and at the garden belonging to Yarà ibn M.r.k.làym(?). The fourth, on the north, also ends at the open road and at the the land of al-Sitt Dàm Akàs (i.e. the Lady Dame Agatha?), 22/which is at this time in the hands of the heirs of the scribe Rumànùs (i.e. Romanos); and, in this [fourth] boundary is the gate to the open road, giving entrance to this place and exit from it. And [as witness of ?] that, and in validation of it, 23/this document has been written for you as a proof in your hand, and a means of verification for you, after it was read to me, Paganus the prior, and to me, John the deacon, and it was translated [aloud?] for us, and we had understood it, and set down our crosses with our own hands at 24/the top of it. We asked those who bore witness for us [to sign?] it, and I, Paganus the prior, confirmed it with the wax seal at the very end. It was written during the last decade of the month of March, in the 1st Indiction, in the year six thousand, seven hundred 25/and twenty one, the year of the Creation [1213 ]. And prosperity is from God. The aforesaid original document contains lines of Latin, at its beginning and end, and the deposition of the scribe, written by the priest. 26/(The place of/the seal) † I, Is†afan (i.e. Stephen), son of . . ., son of . . ., have compared this copy with the original document, and I have found them both, in letter and spirit, to be with neither addition nor omission; and to the veracity of that I have penned my hand. 27/† I, al-qass Jirjis ibn al-qass Ighrìghùr (i.e. George the priest, son of Gregory the priest), have compared this copy with the original document, and I have found them both, in letter and spirit to be with neither addition nor omission; and to the veracity of that, I have penned my hand. 28/† I, Jirjis ibn Is†afàn ibn Arìstàd (i.e. George, son of Stephen, son of Aristedes?), have compared this copy to the original document, and I have found them both similar 29/in letter and spirit; and to the veracity of that I have penned my hand † 30/† I, Íamwìl ibn alnùmìkùs Bàdrus ibn Hàliyà (i.e. Samuel, son of the scribe Peter, son of Elias), have compared this copy with the original document, and I have found them both 31/in letter and spirit to be with neither addition nor omission; and to the veracity of that I have penned my hand. 32/† . . . the scribe . . . [to th?]at . . . which I wrote in my hand, to this copy, without addition or omission. . . .

       179 Commentary Line 4. ‘I, the deacon of the holy church of St Peter, John. . .’. John the deacon is known only from this document and from Kohler, 172–173, no. 64, where he appears as Joannes diaconus, filius domini Heliae de Cursalt, vir omni bonitate repletus. Cursalt or Cursat was the Latin name for the castle of Qußayr (Qal'at al-Zaw; mod. Kürsat, near Soflar) that lay approximately 20 km south-southeast of Antioch (Cahen, Syrie, 167–168). St Peter’s was the cathedral of Antioch, and had been taken over from the Greek Orthodox in 1100 as the seat of the Latin patriarch. ‘The prior Arnald of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane’. Al-abriyùr (the vocalisation is conjectural) < Latin prior: cf. Cusa, Diplomi, 649–652, l. 3 of Arabic, for lÏ‰∫La (read rÏ‰∫La) = ı ofikonÒmow, l. 8 of Greek. Arnald is not otherwise known, except from Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64. It is intriguing that Josaphat is here called al-Sayyida al-Jasmàniyya. Cahen suggests that there was a separate church of Our Lady of Gethsemane that was administered by the monks of Josaphat: ‘Un document’, 290–291, citing the index of R. Röhricht, Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani (MXCVII–MCCXI), 2 vols, Oeniponti, 1893–1904—where I can find nothing to support his hypothesis. Richard (‘Église latine’, 751, note 6) refers to ‘un texte de 808’— with no better reference—which refers to Josaphat as being in valle Josaphat, in villa quae dicitur Gethsemani, ubi Sancta Maria sepulta fuit: Commemoratorium de casis Dei vel monasteriis in Itinera Hierosolymitana et Descriptiones Terrae Sanctae, ed. T. Tobler and A. Moliner, Publications de la Société de l’Orient Latin. Série Géographique I–II. Itinera latina bellis sacris anteriora, Paris, 1879, 302; Eng. trans. J. Wilkinson, Jerusalem Pilgrims before the Crusades, Warminster, 1977, 137, and asks whether indigenous Christians might have known as al-Jasmàniyya what the Latins called Josaphat. ‘The ruined church that goes by the name of [Our] Lady alShabùba(?)’. This is clearly the oratorium ad honorem gloriosae Genetricis Dei which prior Arnald and brother John found ruined and without roof in 1207 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64). The word here read as al-Shabùba(?) is problematic. The article and the letters shìn, bà" and wàw are clear enough, but the rest of the word is uncertain. There is a clear point beneath the penultimate letter, but the ‘bearer’ has the aspect of a qàf, and looks rather like a ‘Maghribì’

180

    

fà". The final letter has the aspect of dàl, but it is not impossible to construe it as unrounded tà" marbù†a; confusingly, there appears to be a point beneath this, too. If the word is an epithet of al-Sayyida, and does read al-shabùba, then it could refer to her youthfulness: both Cahen (‘Un document’, 286) and Richard (‘Église latine’, 746) take it to be an Arabic word meaning ‘la Vierge’. But it may rather be an unidentified Antiochene placename, on the model of al-Sayyida al-Jasmàniyya in the same line. Lines 4–5. lammà kàna . . . qad awhaba-nì . . . wa kataba . . . wa-baqiya—reading the wàw of wa-baqiya to mark the apodosis after lammà followed by the pluperfect (otherwise, the wàw of wa-kataba could be read in the same way: Blau, Christian Arabic, 451. Cahen’s translation indicates that he sees differently the structure of this sentence (‘Un document’, 286). Line 5. sijill làtìnì = the Latin deed of May 1207 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64). Line 6. ‘The priest, the Friend of God, Sir Priest son of Heraclius’. Of the priest’s name, only the reading of his kunya—al-Mawadd li-llàh—is certain. Cusa (Diplomi, 740, no. 178) reads Kermeri ben Abrakili and, on that basis, Cahen (‘Un document’, 288, note 7) suggests Kyr(?) Marî(?) fils d’Ibriqîlî—but there are obstacles to this. The priest’s name certainly begins with kàf, but the second letter (without a caret) may be either rà" or zày, and the third is initiated with a tip from below, unlike any other indisputable initial mìm in this document, so that it is most likely to be bà", tà", thà", nùn or yà". The fourth is certainly a rà" (with a caret), but the final yà" might signal -à, -ay or -ì. However, since his name is not recognizably Arabic or Syriac, and since he is of the Greek Orthodox rite, he may well have had a Greek name, which makes Cahen’s suggestion particularly attractive: that it is prefixed with the standard medieval Greek indeclinable title KËr < kÊriow. Moreover, because he was a priest, he may well have been called ‘the priest’ (flereÊw) in Greek as well as in Arabic—Kir Yaray. As to his father’s name, the word is without points and the possibilities are therefore legion. One possibility, however, is more Greek than any of the alternatives: Ayraqìlì > ÑHrãkleiow,

       181 ‘Heraclius’—Kir Yaray ibn Ayraqìlì, ‘Sir Priest son of Heraclius’. But this is pure hypothesis. min ra˙lì, ‘with my own means’. Cusa reads rijlì. The first letter has a faint caret to distinguish it as rà", but the second is unpointed. Cahen translates ‘pour ma part’, but without discussion, perhaps reading rijl, as a ‘part’ or ‘portion’, but this seems strained: see E.W. Lane, An Arabic-English Lexicon, London 1863–93; repr. London, 1984, 1044c–1045a. Since the second letter has no point, we prefer to read ra˙l, in the sense of ‘belongings’, ‘possessions’, etc. by synedoche from ‘all the possessions of a dwelling or homestead (ra˙l )—a sense anciently attested e.g. in C.J. Lyall, ed. and trans., The Mufa∂∂aliyyàt. An Anthology of Ancient Arabian Odes Compiled by al-Mufa∂∂al Son of Mu˙ammad According to the Recension and Commentary of Abù Mu˙ammad al-Qàsim Ibn Mu˙ammad al-Anbàrì, 2 vols, Oxford, 1918–21 i, 549; ii, 214, no. 68, of Mutammim, v. 15, 1st hemistich: badhùlun li-mà fì ra˙li-hi ghayru zumma˙in . . ., which Lyall translates ‘Ready to give freely all that he had in his possession, no niggard . . .’, commenting that ra˙l here seems to have the meaning of an abode or habitation rather than saddle or saddle bags; incidentally, very much the sense that it would have had in the thirteenth-century Mediterranean, where ra˙l was most commonly used to mean a farm or village—cf. ‘everything that is carried on the ra˙l or camel-saddle’: Lane, Lexicon, 1053c; and Dozy, Supplément, i, 516. Line 7. ‘. . . for it had been given to me according to the terms mentioned’, i.e. for the duration of John’s life, whereas al-Mawadd li-llàh was insisting upon an heritable lease in perpetuity. dathàri-hi The reading is certain; while the meaning of dathàr—in the sense of duthùr/tadàthur/indithàr, i.e. ‘ruinous condition’—is clear from the context, this form has not gained currency in the dictionaries. Line 8. ‘The most excellent Brother Paganus, prior of [Our] Lady [St Mary] Latin’. Al-abriyùr < Latin prior, see Commentary l. 4; afràr < French frère; Bàyàn < Latin Paganus or French Paien (cf. Cusa, Diplomi, 242, l. 10: Bàyàn di-Ghurj = 201, l. 25: Paganus de Gorgiis (Gorges, Manche). Cahen nods when he remarks that Bàyàn is the standard Arabic transliteration of the name of Balian d’Ibelin, lord of Nàblus and Ramla (‘Un document’, 290, note 12)—in fact, he appears in Arabic

182

    

sources as Bàliyàn ibn Bàrizàn. That St Mary Latin had taken charge of the affairs of Josaphat in Antioch is confirmed by Latin documents of August 1254, February 1263 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 181–82, no. 73, and 188–90, no. 80), and August 1264 (Delaborde, Chartes, 117–119, no. 57). Paganus was presumably the local prior for Antioch and not the prior of the mother-abbey, which had by now relocated to Acre. ‘Brother Adam, prior of [Our] Lady of Gethsemane’. This is probably the same Brother Adam who witnessed the Latin deed of 1207 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64). He appears as prior of Josaphat— the abbey itself—in March 1212: Delaborde, Chartes, 95–96, no. 46. Line 9. ‘. . . no benefit would come to the monastery from it . . .’ (. . . mà yaßìru li-l-dayri min-hu fà"ida . . .): here, the particle of denial mà seems to refer to the future: for other examples, see Blau, Christian Arabic, 303–304 and note 10. Line 10. ‘The Latin document that belonged to me’ = his copy of the Latin deed of May 1207 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64). ‘The aforesaid prior leased (dammasa) the property to him’. The verb dammasa is coined from the noun dìmùs, pl. dìmùsàt < Greek dhmÒsion, originally meaning ‘public [tax]’, but here (ll. 12–15, 17–18) meaning a fixed annual rent to be paid for the leases: see discussion above, p. 162. Lines 10–11. ‘Al-mawlà al-dayyàn of the church of holy St Peter, Ser Simon—may God perpetuate his guardianship!’ Cahen translates al-mawlà al-dayyàn as ‘[le] maître juge’ but makes no comment on this official (‘Un document’, 286). Richard, following Cahen but not wholly understanding him, suggests that Simon was a judge delegated by the patriarch and by his chapter to adjudicate in temporal matters (‘Église latine’, 748). Note that the Latin deed of March 1207 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64) was also confirmed in the court of the patriarch. Although it is possible that Simon was a lay judge, dayyàn is used in Spanish Arabic for the Christian office of dean (Dozy, Supplément, i, 482b) and, although this usage is not attested in the Latin East (unless in this unique Arabic document), the context makes it likely that Simon was an ecclesiastical official charged with the adminis-

       183 tration of the patiarchate’s temporalities, such as an archdeacon. The failure of Peter I of Angoulême to fill the vacant office of the archdeacon of the patriarchate had been one of the bones of contention between him and the papal legate in 1205–1206, and the office must have been filled after his reconciliation in 1207: Innocent III, Regestorum, ii, 1278–1282 (X.186: 9 Jan. 1208). Whatever his office, Simon is not otherwise known. (The temptation to identify Ser Simon with the patriarch Symeon II must be resisted: not only are his titles inappropriate to a patriarch but, by March 1213, Symeon had already long fled Antioch: see above, pp. 168–169 and note 46) Lines 11–13. kull sana bi-sababi-hà: because a point is clearly visible below the second kursì of the latter noun (in l. 12), we have upheld Cusa’s reading of this formula, which is repeated in l. 13—i.e. taking the pronomial suffix -hà to refer to the church, although this is somewhat strained, especially in this first instance, where the last reference to the church is remote. But, this is the only pointing visible in either occurrence of the formula, and may rather indicate the preposition bi-, with the point slightly misplaced. In which case, a more natural reading might be the idiom kull sana bi-sanati-hà—a reinforced expression meaning ‘every year’, current in the Levant today. ‘In the month of August of each calendar year ('àm), every year (sana), he will pay . . . the sum of two dinars—half of that, one dinar, in ready money (naqd al-mu'àmala)—12 after the dìmùs has been remitted him for two years (sanatayn)—this year (sanatu-nà hàdhih) in which we now are, the year of the 1st Indiction (sanat al-ta"rìkh al-awwal), being the first of the two, and [the other] the year of the 2nd Indiction (sanat al-ta"rìkh al-thànì )—in order to assist him in rebuilding the aforesaid church. Thus, the start of the payment of the dìmùs . . . will be from the month of August in the 3rd Indiction (sanat al-ta"rìkh al-thàlith)’. Cusa and Cahen (‘Un document’, 286) both failed to make sense of this passage. The key is to be found in ll. 24–25 where document is dated according to the Byzantine calendar to 6721, Indiction I (al-ta"rìkh al-awwal ). Here, the scribe has struggled hard to distinguish between the ‘year’ (sana), the ‘calendar year’ ('àm) starting in January, and the ‘indictional year’ (sanat al-ta"rìkh) that began on 1 September. The dìmùs was to be paid in arrears at the end of each indiction. Note that the dìmùs amounted to two dinars, half of

184

    

which was to be paid in cash, not ‘2½ dinars dont 1 comptant’ (see Sourdel-Thomine, ‘Épigraphie’, 190); the remainder was presumably to be paid in produce. The dinar is not to be understood as the Islamic dìnàr, but as the Latin besant (Cahen, ‘Un document’, 292): a gold coin, struck by the Latin kings in imitation of Fà†imid dìnàrìs. The dinars to which our document refers were probably struck in the mint of Tripoli, with a nominal gold content of 12 carats: D.M. Metcalf, Coinage of the Crusades and the Latin East in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, 2nd rev. edn, Cambridge, 1995, 150–152 and pl. 19. The remittance of rent for an introductory period is a standard feature of such leases (Richard, ‘Église latine’, 746). The first payment was due in August 1215. Line 14. wa-là li-man yaqùmu maqàma-ka: clearly standing for wa-là 'alà man . . .— presumably a lapse of concentration (cf. l. 16 where concentration is sustained); li- appears to stand as an object-marker of the type noted below in l. 18. Lines 15–16. ‘. . . You, and whosoever takes your place, has control over this property, so that all the mutadammisùn [who come after you], with their perpetual and eternal dìmùsàt, can exercise absolute authority, while you [and those who come after you] may build and construct according to your rights and your needs, as you wish and as you choose, without yourself or whomsoever takes your place, meeting any obstruction whatsoever’. This clause establishes the perpetuity of the emphyteutic lease. The mutadammisùn—the masculine sound plural of the active participle of tadammasa, another verb formed from the noun dìmùs (see above, Commentary l. 10)—are here the future heirs of al-Mawadd li-llàh, who will inherit from him the perpetual rights in Josaphat’s property. Cahen’s translation is difficult to reconcile with Cusa’s text, and is substantially different from our reading: note his insistence that our document is not an emphyteutic lease (‘Un document’, 292, note 16)—see the discussion above, pp. 162–163. fa-in anta . . . (cf. l. 18: fa-in huwa . . . ): on the use, after in, of pronominal subjects of a conditional clause, rather than a verb— apparently far more common in early South Palestinian Arabic (henceforth ASP) than in CA—see Blau, Christian Arabic, 589–590 and notes; Hopkins, Early Arabic, 250.

       185 Line 17. wa-law khamsata 'ashara yawman. This idiomatic use of wa-law—i.e. ‘even as little as’ or ‘even as much as’ according to context—has wide currency in the Levant, and elsewhere, today, although the Levantine literature conspicuously lacks examples. There is one marginal Palestinian reference in J. Blau, Syntax des palästinensischen Bauerdialektes von Bìr-Zèt, auf Grund der “Volkserzählungen aus Palästina” von Hans Schmidt und Paul Kahle, Beiträge zur Sprach- und Kulturgeschichte des Orients 13, Walldorf-Hessen, 1960, 253. The idiom is also carried by M. Hinds and S. Badawi, A Dictionary of Egyptian Arabic, Beirut, 1986, 803. Line 18. am i'nàya-ka . . . am li-man . . . am li-man . . . cf. the examples adduced by Blau, Christian Arabic, 413–423, in his discussion of the uses of li in ASP to introduce determinate direct objects, which he relates to the loss of case endings and Aramaic influence. Lines 20–21. The boundary-description (˙add ). The Latin deed of 1207 (Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64) remarks only that the property lay juxta domum Hospitalis, ‘next to the House of the Hospital’. (Had the scribe intended not ‘the House of the Hospital’, but ‘a house’ belonging to it, then he would most likely have written juxta quamdam domum or similar. The Hospital owned six or more houses in Antioch: see the list in Cahen, Syrie, 522—who renders this particular domus as ‘hôtel’— where the references are to J. Delaville Le Roulx, Cartulaire général de l’Ordre des Hospitaliers de s. Jean de Jérusalem, 4 vols, Paris, 1894–1906, i, 38, 144, 148, 574, 613.) The House of the Hospital is not mentioned in our document, but it lay in circuitu Beatae Mariae (Delaville Le Roulx, Cartulaire, i, 9)—presumably St Mary Rotunda—in the north-east of the city, close to the foot of Mount Silpius, near to the churches of St John Chrysostom and St Mary Latin (Cahen, Syrie, 130–131). In September 1194, Bohemond III confirmed a gift made to the Hospital of the old gastina adjoining it: the two properties were on the same public road and had a wall in common (Delaville Le Roulx, Cartulaire, i, 693, no. 986). We have been unable to identify any of the boundary-markers, the reading of some of which poses considerable difficulties. wa-l-kharàba allatì ta˙ta al-gh.màdh.n al-àjurr al-kabìr, ‘. . . and the neglected estate that is below the big, baked-brick gh.màdh.n’—an

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obscure passage, which Cahen makes no attempt to translate. Given the adjoining gastinae (in Kohler, ‘Chartes’, 172–173, no. 64; and Delaville Le Roulx, Cartulaire, i, 693, no. 986) the reading kharàba = khirba is almost inescapable, although the rà" has no caret and the letter read as bà" is unpointed. The scribe has carefully written a tashdìd on the rà" of al-àjurr. He has also clearly indicated the kàf of al-kabìr. Thus, it is the meaning of word al-gh.màdh.n that is the missing key to the problem. Although the word is not at face value Arabic, one could force such readings as: ghamàdhin, ‘buildings’ < *ghamàdin (but see Blau, Christian Arabic, 108), plural formed from alghumdàn (itself a plural form when regarded as Arabic), the legendary pre-Islamic palace at Ían'à"; or ghamàdhin, ‘houses not on the public road’ < *ghamà∂in (see Blau, Christian Arabic, 108, for dhàl < ∂àd ), highly problematic plural of *gham∂àn = ghàmi∂, pl. ghawàmi∂. (See Blau, Christian Arabic, 282–283 and notes, for adjectives of the form fa'ìl qualifying, against CA, both masculine and feminine nouns.) We prefer, however, to regard it as a foreign import. Given its immediate association with àjurr, ‘baked-brick’, itself Arabised from Persian, the proximity of gh.màdh.n to Persian khumdàn, ‘brick-maker’s kiln’ is highly striking. An alternative might be to seek a derivation from Greek: e.g. ghumàdhin < x«mãtion (technically a diminuitive), ‘bank’, ‘heap’, ‘pile’, ‘ruin’ or ‘tip’: H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, 9th edn, ed. H.S. Jones and R. McKenzie, Oxford, 1940, 2014. ilà buyùt wa-bustàn Yànì al-Kàmìlàrì: on the phenomenon of two or more nomina regentia preceding one nomen rectum, against CA, see Blau, Christian Arabic, 345, note 2; Hopkins, Early Arabic, 176–177 and notes. Yànì al-Kàmìlàrì < Greek ÉIvannhw [ı] Kamhlãriow, ‘John the Cameldriver’. Cahen, ‘Un document’, 287, reads ‘al-Kâmîdârî ’. Yarà ibn M.r.k.lày.m (or possibly M.r.d.là); Cahen reads ‘Yârî fils de Mardalâ’, without discussion. Yarà might derive from Greek flereÊw, ‘priest’ (see above, Commentary l. 6), but we can suggest no plausible derivation for his father’s name. ar∂ al-Sitt Dàm Akàs alladhì . . ., ‘the land of the Lady Dame Agatha(?) that . . .’ Although this reading is inevitably uncertain, we are fairly confident that the letters are correct. Cusa reads something like ar∂ al-s.r.dàm ".dhày al-dayr, ‘the land of al-s.r.dàm ".dhày the convent’, which is meaningless and wrong. Cahen attempts only ‘la terre de Sire (?) . . .’ (but Arabic Ser never takes the definite article: see l. 10). For the reading terminal tà" in al-Sitt, compare tathbìt in l. 19: no

       187 rà" in the document resembles this letter. For Dàm, see e.g. Dàma Bargharì†a al-Naßràniyya bint al-ràhiba al-Karkaniyya, ‘Dame Margaret the Christian, daughter of the nun from Agrigento’, in Palermo in 1183 (Cusa, Diplomi, 491–493). For Akàs, although there is no miniature letter to confirm the kàf, this is the standard shape of kàf-alif throughout the document, whereas dàl and dhàl are always separated from following alif; for the terminal sìn, compare especially dìmùs early in l. 17. That Akàs comes from Latin Agatha or Greek ÉAgãyh is conjecture. (For ‘invariable’ alladhì—here relating to the feminine noun ar∂—see Hopkins, Early Arabic, 240–241 and notes.) ‘The heirs of al-nùmìqùs Rumànùs’ < Greek ı nomikÒw ÑRvmçnow, ‘the notary Romanos’ (Cahen, ‘Un document’, 292). Lines 23–24. ‘[Paganus and John] set down our crosses with our own hands at the top [of the document]’: they presumably also added their Latin inscriptiones see below, Commentary l. 25. Line 25. ‘The aforesaid original document contains lines of Latin, at its beginning and end, and the deposition of the scribe (al-nùmìkùs) written by the priest’. The original seems to have born the inscriptiones of Paganus and John at the head of the Arabic text, and other lines of Latin—perhaps the witnesses—and its foot, in addition to the deposition by the Arab scribe, who was a priest. Line 26. The place of Paganus’s wax seal is indicated by a circle containing the words ‘The place of the seal’. Lines 26–30. The names of the witnesses to the accuracy of the translation. These are written for the most part without points, and are often extremely difficult to decipher. Is†afan (< Greek Stefãnow, ‘Stephen’) ibn al- (?—Cusa does not transcribe, but the word has the shape of al-Óayß, ‘the Exile’, or similar—could it be Alakhìß < Greek ÉAl°jhw or similar?) ibn al- (?— Cusa, al-Latìnì; Richard, ‘Église latine’, 745, note 11, al-Ladikhi—but the word has rather the shape of al-Muqtanì or similar)—possibly a Greek. al-qass Jirjis ibn al-qass Ighrìghùr < Greek Ge≈rghw ı uflow GrhgÒrioË, ‘the priest George, the son of the priest Gregory’, or similar—a Greek.

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Jirjis ibn Is†afàn ibn Arìstàd > Greek Ge≈rghw ı uflow StefãnoË toË ufloË ÉAriste¤dh, ‘George, son of Stephen, son of Aristedes’. Íamwìl ibn al-nùmìkùs Bàdrus ibn Hàliyà < Greek SamouØl ı uflow toË nomikoË P°troË toË ufloË ÉHl¤ou, ‘Samuel, son of the scribe Peter, son of Elias’. Line 32. A very fragmentary line, omitted by Cusa, containing what seems to be the subscription of another witness. All that can be read of his name is the word al-nùmìkùs < Greek ı nomikÒw, ‘the scribe’.

an original arabic document from crusader antioch 189

Plate 1: Palermo, Archivio di Stato (Gancia), Tabulario del monastero di Santa Maria Maddalena, poi San Placido di Calonerò, Pergamena no. 81, recto. (Reproduced by kind permission and under the copyright of the Archivio di Stato, Palermo.)

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nadia jamil and jeremy johns

Plate 2: Palermo, Archivio di Stato (Gancia), Tabulario del monastero di Santa Maria Maddalena, poi San Placido di Calonerò, Pergamena no. 81, verso. (Reproduced by kind permission and under the copyright of the Archivio di Stato, Palermo.)

YÀQÙT’S INTERVIEWING TECHNIQUE: ‘SNIFFY’ Julia Bray (St Andrews)

One of the periods that Yàqùt (575–626/1179–1229) portrays in his Udabà" (Dictionary of Men of Letters/Who and What is a Man of Letters— The Intelligent Person’s Guide)1 is his own, and when he deals with contemporaries, a recent study argues, he mediates their individual voices with great fidelity.2 But the same study points out that, as an interviewer, Yàqùt also reveals something of himself: directly when he gives autobiographical details, and indirectly in the methods he uses to elicit information and to write it up.3 What we shall argue here is that in some cases Yàqùt’s techniques tell us almost as much about himself as about his subjects. I˙sàn 'Abbàs has looked at a particular aspect of Yàqùt’s relations with his subjects. His biographies of some contemporaries give glimpses of his attempts to hitch his plough to the intellectual stars of his age. Through their testimony in other sources, it can be seen that they did not always respond with parity of esteem.4 Occasionally we are able to see Yàqùt, the scholar, criticised, which is a com-

1 Mu'jam al-Udabà"/Irshàd al-Arìb ilà Ma'rifat al-Adìb, I. 'Abbàs, ed., Beirut, 1993 = Udabà", of which vii, 2877–2942: Diràsa fì Yàqùt wa-Kitàbih Mu'jam al-Udabà" = 'Abbàs, Diràsa. 2 D.F. Reynolds, ed., and co-authors, Interpreting the Self. Autobiography in the Arabic Literary Tradition, Berkeley, 2001, 44, discusses Yàqùt’s interviewing techniques in general terms: “Yàqùt . . . meticulously reproduces all of these separate voices [which reveal their subjects’ original autobiographical perspectives]”. 3 Reynolds, Interpreting the Self, 44: “The resulting texts reveal a great deal about Yàqùt’s methodology in conducting interviews, gathering information and assembling texts from oral and written sources”. For an example of how elements of selfbiography combine with the reported autobiography and biography of a contemporary subject, see the translation and discussion of Yàqùt’s entry on Ibn al-'Adìm, Interpreting the Self, 165–179, and N.N.N. Khoury, ‘The Autobiography of Ibn al-'Adìm as Told to Yàqùt al-Rùmì’, Edebiyât, N.S. 7, no. 2, 1997 (Special Issue: Arabic Autobiography), 289–311. This issue of Edebiyât and Interpreting the Self suggest new frameworks for identifying and interpreting Arabic autobiography. 4 'Abbàs contrasts Yàqùt’s praise of al-Qif†ì (568–646/1172–1248) with what he sees as al-al-Qif†ì’s ambivalent feelings for and dealings with him, Diràsa, 2902–2903.

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mon enough form of reciprocity.5 What is more unusual is that sometimes we are also able to see Yàqùt, the observer, observed.6 A combination of adab and family position had carried men like Jamàl al-Dìn 'Alì b. Yùsuf al-Qif†ì—one of Yàqùt’s subjects and patrons, and also one of his critics and observers—to high office, while Yàqùt, a Byzantine-born ex-slave, formerly apprenticed to an illiterate Baghdad merchant, remained an itinerant bookseller. Yàqùt apparently had no inkling of any culture but Arabic culture, which he had avidly set himself to master from the time his owner sent him to school so that he could become his clerk. He embraced it without reservation (he would not yield materials for an Orhan Pamuk-like novel of obfuscated identities); but he was conscious of the difference between his own lack of background and the confident rootedness of many of the contemporaries whose achievements he recorded. This may be one reason for his interest in the concrete data of their family details,7 their inherited position, their sources of wealth,8 and why he sometimes contrasts their literary poses with the reality of their situation.9 This last point is of particular interest. It seems that Yàqùt rarely quotes a subject’s writings solely for their literary merit. He cites what will contribute to biographical understanding. One implication of this is that his biographies, which alternate data and anecdote with quotation, are designed both to evoke a subject’s literary ancestry or affinities and to show the ways in which his life and adab interacted.

5 'Abbàs discusses the cases of al-Qif†ì, who thought that Yàqùt was entirely selftaught from books and not very well educated, Diràsa, 2888, and of al-Mubàrak b. A˙mad Ibn al-Shi'àr al-Mawßilì (d. 656/1258), who found him secretive and unwilling to part with information, Diràsa, 2900. 6 See below, text to note 65. 7 Notably al-Qif†ì’s, see below, text to notes 66–68. 8 E.g. a forebear of Ibn al-'Adìm (d. 660/1262), Hàrùn b. Mùsà of the Banù Jaràda (d. c. 340/951), was the first member of the family to buy villages around Aleppo; these are named, Yàqùt, Udabà", v, 2075. 9 E.g. Yàqùt asks Ibn al-'Adìm: Whence the family nickname? Ibn al-'Adìm surmises that it stuck to his rich [great-] grandfather, Hibat Allàh, because he wrote poetry about his ‘destitution’; Yàqùt notes that Ibn al-'Adìm, himself very rich, has also written ‘destitution’ poetry, which should not be taken as autobiographical, Udabà", v, 2069, 2089–2090, trans. Reynolds, Interpreting the Self, 169, 176. Similarly, Yàqùt records ‘Sniffy’’s disavowal of wine-drinking in the preface to his book of wine poems, see below, text to note 19.

àù’  : ‘’

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The fact that he is sometimes able to draw attention to discrepancies between literary attitudes and specific realities is very much to the good if we wish to treat Yàqùt’s biographies of contemporaries as documentary sources. But, at the same time, another consequence of the way in which he links his subjects’ works and lives is a lack of differentiation: adab is both the object and the medium of discourse. It provides most of Yàqùt’s points of reference: the primacy of culture and situation over events is taken for granted; rulers and politics are significant only insofar as they impinge on the careers of udabà".10 As against this, Yàqùt has a very broad conception of adab. It apparently includes career, character and behaviour, beliefs, even feelings if they can be ascertained, as well as a person’s written output. A subject’s bibliography is generally the last, formal element in Yàqùt’s entries, and biography and specific personal detail always have pride of place where information is available. As well as blurring the distinction between adab and life, Yàqùt also blurs the boundaries between past and present. For him, there is no significant divide between them in adab; the adab of the past is not superior to that of the present, or different in its concerns and significance, and his dictionary memorialises the present equally with the past by including many contemporaries—even, originally, himself, although the entry has not survived.11 What has survived, however, is a self-portrait of himself as a young man interviewing the subject of another entry. He is aged about nineteen or twenty, and

10 E.g. the Hàrùn b. Mùsà referred to in note 8 is described as having “set up a waqf to buy chargers for use in holy war (waqafa waqfan 'alà shirà farasin yujàhadu bihi fì sabìli ’Llàh)”, Yàqùt, Udabà", v, 2075. This must refer to the campaigns of Sayf al-Dawla (r. 336–56/947–67) against the Byzantines, but Yàqùt does not say so. Similarly, Saladin and Nùr al-Dìn Zangì are mentioned only as the patrons of ‘Sniffy’ and Abù Nizàr, see below, text following notes 20 and 40. 11 Yàqùt was recognised in the tradition as an autobiographer as well as a biographer: “When the Egyptian scholar Jalàl al-Dìn al-Suyù†ì sat down to pen his autobiography in about 1485, he began by situating his text within what was for him a recognised tradition of Arabic autobiographical writing . . . ‘Scholars from ancient to modern times have continually written biographical accounts of themselves . . . Among those who have done so before me are . . . Yàqùt al-Óamawì [d. 1229] in his [Biographical Dictionary of writers]’”, Reynolds, ed., Interpreting the Self, 1–2. Yàqùt’s full tarjama of himself, now lost, to which al-Suyù†ì refers, would have come under the letter yà" of his Udabà", see Ibn ˇulùn al-Dimashqì (d. 1546), citing al-Suyù†ì’s ˇabaqàt al-Nu˙àt, Interpreting the Self, 66–67.

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is still a slave (though he does not say so),12 but not at all intimidated by the venerable old scholar he is interviewing, even though he himself, as we know from another source, is as yet only a novice merchant and student of letters.13 This seems to be the only case in his Udabà", at least as it has survived, in which Yàqùt records himself on an equal footing with a subject. He discreetly foregrounds the interplay of personalities, making the interview a display of his own self-possession and skill at coaxing his subject to reveal himself. The interview forms the first part of an entry which runs as follows: [‘Sniffy’] 'Alì b. al-Óasan b. 'Antar b. Thàbit of Óilla, known as ‘Sniffy’ (Shumaym),14 Abù al-Óasan, grammarian, philologist and poet. He died in Rabì' II, 601 [1205], as I was told by an accredited legal witness, al-'Imàd b. al-Óadùs,15 in his own house in Mosul, at an advanced age, though originally he was from Óilla (al-Óilla al-Mazyadiyya) [near Baghdad].16 He came to Baghdad, where he studied Arabic letters (adab), then went to Mosul, Syria and Diyàr Bakr. I believe he had been a student of (qara"a 'alà) the ‘king of grammarians’, Abù Nizàr.17 It happened that I myself was in Àmid [in Diyàr Bakr] in the course of the year 594 [1197–98]. Seeing that everyone there had the same to say about [or: was eager to talk about] this old scholar, I sought him out in the mosque of al-Khi∂r. There I found a skinny ancient in an alcove behind a chest full of books, all of them written by himself. I greeted him and sat down nearby. It was he who opened the conversation, asking me where I was from. When I told him I was

12 See 'Abbàs, Diràsa, 2885. He was manumitted in 596/1199. Ibn Khallikàn says that his manumission was “necessitated by a falling-out between him and his master”, Wafayàt al-A'yàn, I. 'Abbàs, Beirut, ed., 1968–1972, vi, 127. 13 Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, vi, 127. 14 Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1689–1697. The vocalisation of the nickname is given by Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, iii, 340, no. 455. 15 This is the only time Yàqùt cites him as an informant in Udabà". 16 A large and prosperous town founded in 495/1102 by Sayf al-Dawla b. Manßùr, chief of the Banù Mazyad, see G. Le Strange, The Lands of the Eastern Caliphate, Cambridge, 1905, 71. 17 Al-Óasan b. Abì al-Óasan Íàfì the grammarian, see Udabà", ii, 866–873, no. 319. Born in Baghdad in 489/1096, he died in Shawwàl 568/1173 in Damascus, where he had taught during the latter part of his life under the protection of Nùr al-Dìn Ma˙mùd b. Zangì (d. 569/1174). 'Abbàs gives a reference to a full-length modern study of him, Udabà", ii, 866, n. 319. See also below, note 34.

àù’  : ‘’

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from Baghdad, he grew cordial and questioned me for news. After I had brought him up to date, I said [respectfully]: “The reason I am here is to borrow a little of Your Excellency’s learning”. “Which branch of learning would you like?” he asked. “That of letters,” I replied. “My literary compositions,” said he, “are numerous. Earlier scholars merely collected other people’s words and poetry and anthologised them. But everything that I write comes out of my own head. Whenever I used to hear people agree on the excellence of a literary work of some kind, I would apply my wits to writing something in the same line that would make the earlier work absolutely worthless. Take Abù Tammàm [c. 189–232/805–845]. He collected the poems of the Bedouin in his Óamàsa. Well, I put together a Óamàsa of my own poems, my own, original ideas!”18 (Here he paused to vilify Abù Tammàm.) “Then everybody praises Abù Nuwàs [c. 140– 198/755–813] as the best wine poet. Well, I wrote a whole book of wine poems of my own, and if Abù Nuwàs were alive to hear them, he’d be ashamed to hear his so much as mentioned. And everybody used to say that Ibn Nubàta [d. 373/984–85] wrote the best sermons. I wrote a whole book of sermons, and now mine are the only ones anyone has time for”. And he began to deride and abuse all earlier writers, calling all the classic authors ignoramuses and yelling “You dogs!” at them, to my astonishment. I then asked him to recite me some of his own poetry, and he obliged with the preface to his book of wine poems, of which I remember the following [a passage in rhymed prose in which he denies ever actually having tasted wine], and one poem [a ten-line love and wine poem, metre kàmil, rhyming in -aynì, of which line 4 reads: “When likened to the blood of al-Óusayn, (the wine) was transmuted by the simile”].19 “That’s good”, I said—and he flew into a rage, and cried: “Is that all you can do—say it’s ‘good’?” “What ought I to have done, sir?” I asked. “This is what you should do,” he said, and jumped up and began to dance around and clap his hands until he was exhausted. Then he sat down, saying:

18 19

Ibn Khallikàn says it was in ten chapters, Wafayàt, iii, 339. ‘Sniffy’’s home town of al-Óilla was well known for its Shi'ism.

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  “What am I to do! I’m made to suffer brute beasts who don’t know the difference between pearls and dung, jewels and pebbles!” I apologised and asked to hear more of his poetry. “Seeing how popular al-Bustì was,”20 he said, “I wrote a book on paronomasia,” (he called it Anìs al-Jalìs fì ’l-Tajnìs) “in praise of Saladin [d. 589/1193]; I will recite you a poem from it”, which he did [. . .], then another describing a cup-bearer [. . .], and others of which I do not recall the text. Next I asked his opinion of earlier scholars. He refused to hear a good word about any of them, and when I mentioned al-Ma'arrì [363–449/973–1058], he exclaimed: “Shame on you for a lout! Who was that blind dog to be named to me in my own majlis!” “Sir,” I said, “it seems that no predecessor meets with your approval”. “Why should they?” he said. “What have any of them done to deserve it?” [Only “the panegyrics of al-Mutanabbì [c. 303–54/915–65], the sermons of Ibn Nubàta and the maqàmat of Ibn al-Óarìrì”—of whom the latter (446–513/1054–1122) belonged to the generation before ‘Sniffy’’s—are allowed to pass muster. When Yàqùt slyly asks ‘Sniffy’ why he has written “no maqàmàt to confound those of alÓarìrì”, he replies disarmingly that honesty is the best policy: he wrote a couple but scrapped them. “I don’t doubt but that God created me to make manifest the merit of Ibn al-Óarìrì”.] “My boy,” he continued grandly, “know that in the whole of existence there are but two creators, One in heaven and one on earth. The One in heaven is God; the one on earth is myself ” (remarking, in an aside: “This is not something the vulgar can tolerate hearing; they don’t understand it”).21 “I can create nothing but words—and I do!” After he had explained the origins of this expression (ishtiqàq hàdhihi ’l-lafΩa), I said: “Sir, I am a mu˙addith, and mu˙addiths must be bold or

20 Al-Bustì served the Ghazanvids, see E.K. Rowson, article ‘Abù ’l-Fat˙ al-Bustì (335–400/946–1009)’ in J.S. Meisami and P. Starkey, eds, Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature, London and New York, 1998, i, 32: “His ornate victory announcements (kutub futù˙), of which only fragments survive, were particularly admired . . . the bulk of his poetic output consists of very brief poems contrived to display his skill at elaborate forms of paronomasia”. 21 Cf. Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, iii, 339: “Abù ’l-Barakàt Ibn al-Mustawfì [historian, literary critic and vizier, 564–637/1169–1239, see Wafayàt, iv, 147–152] . . . condemned [‘Sniffy’], in his ‘History of Irbil’, for, so he says, being irreligious, not performing the prescribed prayers, and imitating the Qur"àn . . .”.

àù’  : ‘’

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die of frustration. I wonder, with the utmost respect, if I might ask you something?” He grinned and said: “I know you’re going to ask me something tricky. Go on, then”. “Why are you called Sniffy?” I asked.22 First he called me angry names; then he laughed. “Know,” he said, “that for a certain period of my life” (which he mentioned but which I forget) “I ate nothing whatsoever except clay.23 My purpose was to absorb the moisture from my body and thereby sharpen my memory. Days would pass without my moving my bowels, and when I did, it would be like clay pellets. I used to pick them up and invite anyone who wasn’t too squeamish to smell them, saying: ‘Sniff that! It has no smell at all!’ This happened so often that it became my nickname. Satisfied now, are you, you little bastard?” This brought my interview with him to a close, though later I heard [extracts] from his Óamàsa [. . .].24 [An eyewitness tells Yàqùt of ‘Sniffy’’s reaction to a group of merchants who came to pay their respects to ‘Sniffy’ in Mosul. They agree to keep silent for fear of making grammatical mistakes. Unfortunately, one of them blurts out a greeting and makes a slip. “What are these?” asks ‘Sniffy’. “Seeing such great turbans, I mistook what was under them for humans [. . .] How can God have created them? Had I the power to create such things, I’d scorn to do so”. Another informant reports a successful interview with ‘Sniffy’, also in Mosul, and quotes a couplet by him. He gave this information to Yàqùt in Marw in Rabì' I, 615/1218.]25 Al-Àmidì the jurist26 told me this story about ‘Sniffy’: I have heard (al-Àmidì said) that when he first arrived in Mosul, all the best people (al-nàs) flocked to see him, and the naqìb of Mosul—

22 Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, iii, 339, quoting Abù ’l-Barakàt Ibn al-Mustawfì, gives an abridged version of the explanation which follows which omits ‘Sniffy’’s medical reasoning. He does not name a source (“He was once asked why he was called Shumaym. He replied . . .”). 23 On edible earth, see A. Mez, The Renaissance of Islam, S. Khuda Bukhsh and D.S. Margoliouth, trans., London, 1937, 436, quoted by 'Abbàs in note 3 to Ibn Khallikàn’s version of ‘Sniffy’’s biography, see note 14 above. 24 'Abbàs is so struck by this interview that he gives a résumé of it and surmises that it may have inspired Yàqùt to become a literary biographer, Diràsa, 2885–2886, 2887. 25 Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1694. 26 Unidentified; this is the only entry for which Yàqùt cites him in Udabà".

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  a most august personage, as everybody knew—also decided to visit him. He was warned that ‘Sniffy’ cared for no-one and never rose to greet a caller. At the same time, someone went to ‘Sniffy’ and explained the respect due to the naqìb as a man of distinguished lineage and of the highest social standing. He answered not a word; and when the naqìb came, he behaved with his usual lack of ceremony, not rising to receive him. The naqìb sat with him briefly and then left in a rage. The man who had advised ‘Sniffy’ to show respect reproached him, but he made no reply. The next day, this man called to see him and found him nibbling at a piece of dry bread that he was holding. “For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us thankful (bismillàh)”, said ‘Sniffy’. “Where’s the meal?” asked the man. ‘Sniffy’ replied: “You fool! When all someone needs in this world is a piece of dry bread, why ever should he grovel to people he can do without—however much they may need him!” [. . .] [The last part of the biography quotes one of ‘Sniffy’’s sermons in rhymed prose.27 Its opening evokes the beauties of nature and bounties of the Creator, and it ends: “Mighty God, forgive my trespasses, and yours [the congregation’s], and those of all Muslims, and those of my parents and teachers”. It also appears to refer to jihàd, though without using the term.28 Finally, Yàqùt gives the titles of some thirtyeight of ‘Sniffy’’s works.]

The interview section of this entry, for all that it is carefully structured, appears entirely natural. The tactful young Yàqùt lets ‘Sniffy’ take the initiative (“I greeted him and sat down . . . it was he who opened the conversation”), and when he has got him into a good mood (“I told him I was from Baghdad [his alma mater] . . . he grew cordial”), he needs to give him only the slightest prod to set him off

27

Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1695–1696. No enemy, Crusader or other, is named, and it is only Mu˙ammad who is explicitly spoken of as a warrior of Islam, but there does seem to be an allusion to contemporary champions of the faith: “I bear witness that Mu˙ammad is His servant and has been given [the task] of upholding the summons of Islam with sword and spear . . . and with lions all-victorious (al-usd al-ghulb)”, Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1696. Saladin’s uncle Shìrkùh was called Asad al-Dìn, ‘the Lion of the Faith’. Cf. C. Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic perspectives, Edinburgh, 1999, 188–189, on khu†bas and poems addressed to Saladin on his reconquest of Jerusalem in 583/1187. 28

àù’  : ‘’

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in the vein that his informants in Àmid had no doubt led him to expect (“My literary compositions,” said he, “are numerous”). He discovers that although ‘Sniffy’ is conceited and irascible, he is easily won round by apology and by being encouraged to declaim. Finding that he can manipulate him, and having by now got most of the information he needs out of him, he ventures first a mischievous question about al-Óarìrì and then an enquiry which is likely to bring the interview to an explosive conclusion—as indeed it does (“Why are you called ‘Sniffy’?”). The second half of the entry seems to develop seamlessly out of the first. It consists of examples of encounters between ‘Sniffy’ and other interviewers in Mosul, in the last years of his life, in which he runs true to type. The concluding anecdote confirms that his character stayed consistent to the last (he behaves in the same way to the naqìb, with whom he should have tried to ingratiate himself as a newcomer to Mosul, as he did with the insignificant Yàqùt on his own territory in Àmid), and Yàqùt appends to this a quotation from one of ‘Sniffy’’s prose works, perhaps to justify classing him as an adìb (the formal requirement that Yàqùt lays down for this is that a subject should have some kind of prose output),29 all the previous quotations except for the one from the introduction to his khamriyyàt having been from his poetry. In other words, the materials assembled by Yàqùt seem to be selfselecting and self-structuring according to the rules of life and, coincidentally, art. Can we therefore take this as a document and as a genuine piece of fieldwork? As fieldwork, it obviously represents not one but several episodes of data-gathering strung out over a number of years from Yàqùt’s own encounter with ‘Sniffy’ in 594 to meetings with other informants up to 615 or later, some fourteen years after ‘Sniffy’’s death in 601 and just before the great personal watershed of Yàqùt’s flight from the Mongols in 616; some of these are dated or dateable, others not. To some extent the episodic nature of the data-gathering is reflected in the structure of the entry: though ‘Sniffy’’s life comes across as being all of a piece, the anecdotes relating to his last years in Mosul are told in roughly reverse chronological order. For the most part the literary quotations also reflect

29

Yàqùt, Udabà", i, 8.

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 

the sequence of Yàqùt’s data-gathering; three poems, two of them from ‘Sniffy’’s Óamàsa, are quoted to him at unspecified later dates.30 These immediately follow the interview with ‘Sniffy’ and his own recital from his works. The placing of the last quotation, from ‘Sniffy’’s khu†ba, raises questions, because it goes against both the chronological and the data-gathering sequence. The khu†bas belong to ‘Sniffy’’s earlier life, for he mentions them to Yàqùt in the interview. Yàqùt quotes one which he says he heard from his own lips, i.e. during their interview: wa-mimmà sami'tuhu min filqi fìhi,31 yet he places it at the very end of the entry, using it to round off ‘Sniffy’’s life and introduce the list of his works. We do not know when Yàqùt learned of ‘Sniffy’’s death, when he decided to include him in his Udabà", or why, since he receives none of the personal or critical praise that Yàqùt heaps on others of his contemporaries (not a word of praise, in fact), he decided to include him at all and to go on gathering information about him. The end result, however, is one of the most shapely entries in the whole of the Udabà". It is, of course, permeated with literary cross-references; but these seem to be part and parcel of the personality of the interviewee. ‘Sniffy’ himself is conscious of being a creature of literary influence, however contradictory. His personal manifesto (“I can create nothing but words—and I do!”) has an ancestry, as he himself explains.32 Although he repudiates al-Ma'arrì, he belongs to his spiritual lineage as a cynic and misanthrope, contemptuous of the great. He poses as a unique, if derivative, human creator, and he is torn between reviling his models and dedicating his life to imitating them. But there are models that ‘Sniffy’ does not acknowledge, and these are models of behaviour as much as of writing. His presumed teacher, Abù Nizàr, is one of them. Yàqùt, who dedicates quite a long entry to him,33 portrays Abù Nizàr too as a comic misanthrope. Note the similarities in point of age (he lived to be nearly eighty), eccentricity, arrogance—like ‘Sniffy’, he measures himself against the Creator to the latter’s disadvantage (see below)—egocentricity (“if [the great grammarian] Ibn Jinnì [d. 392/1002] were alive, he’d be no more 30 31 32 33

Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1692–1693. Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1695. I am not sure what ‘derivation’ (ishtiqàq) he is referring to. Yàqùt, Udabà", ii, 866–873, no. 319.

àù’  : ‘’

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than my saddlecloth-bearer”), the terms of abuse he uses (stupid people are sub-human) and his means of literary self-expression. He was a polymath whose acknowledged output included “maqàmàt in the style of al-Óarìrì” (he was less self-critical than ‘Sniffy’). His adoptive city of Damascus was, he said, “home to more than a hundred thousand goats, and the only one that gives me my due is [a performing] goat”.34 Just as ‘Sniffy’ would yell: “You dogs!” when he heard the names of the classic authors, so Abù Nizàr, “whenever the name of some fellow scholar was mentioned, would cry: ‘He’s nothing but a dog!’” This gave rise to ribaldry, including a poem in which a cat reproached for biting him retorts: “Not so hasty— aren’t cats the enemies of dogs?” The man whom he later forgave for writing this (like ‘Sniffy’, he was unforgiving only of fools) claimed to have seen him in a dream after his death. When he asked him “how God had dealt with him”, he replied: “I recited Him a qaßìda unequalled in all of Paradise35 [. . .] and I haven’t heard the crackle of hellfire since”.36 It seems probable that Yàqùt deliberately emphasised the likenesses between the two men—it may be significant that he flags a connection between them which was far from secure (“I believe he had been a student of . . . Abù Nizàr”)—and that he set himself to draw parallel portraits, whether as an exercise in literary virtuosity or because he wanted to make a point about the manners of his own period and the personal or moral authority of its men of learning.37 It is useful here to compare Yàqùt with his younger contemporary, 34 He came from Baghdad (see note 17), hence perhaps his contempt. The sagacious goat had been told by its trainer to pick out from a crowd in the street “a great personage of wide fame, a king in the guise of a commoner, the most learned of men, the most generous of men, the most affable/most praiseworthy of men”, Yàqùt, Udabà", ii, 870. Abù Nizàr’s thirst for recognition may be explained in part by the fact that his father, Íàfì, was the freedman of a merchant, “but he never referred to him except by his kunya [Abù al-Óasan] so that no-one would know that he was a freedman”, as Yàqùt notes, Udabà", ii, 866. (Yàqùt, himself the freedman of a merchant, “once he had achieved distinction and fame”, tried to circumvent a similar social embarrassment—the fact that his own given name was obviously that of a slave—by calling himself Ya'qùb, Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, vi, 139.) 35 Is this an oblique echo of al-Ma'arrì’s Risàlat al-Ghufràn? 36 Yàqùt, Udabà", ii, 867, 870, 872–873. 37 Ibn Khallikàn’s entries on Abù Nizàr, Wafayàt, ii, 92–94, and ‘Sniffy’ (see note 14) do not establish any connection between the two men and do not go out of their way to suggest that they were two of a kind. His attitude towards Abù Nizàr’s vanity is more respectful than Yàqùt’s, though he does observe that “he dubbed himself the King of Grammarians and got very cross if addressed in any other way”.

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Ibn Khallikàn, who admired him and only just missed meeting him on his deathbed.38 Far more frequently than Ibn Khallikàn, Yàqùt lets his contemporaries speak in their own voices, if only to damn themselves. Ibn Khallikàn treats his subjects with more distance and circumspection. Yet his smoothing of their profiles does not always work in their favour. According to Yàqùt, for all his faults, ‘Sniffy’ was no lackey; he might have written his Anìs al-Jalìs in praise of Saladin, but he had no time for the self-important naqìb of Mosul. Ibn Khallikàn, on the other hand, uses a standard formula to show that he was a success, saying that when (in the earlier part of his career) he went to Diyàr Bakr and Syria, “he praised the great and received their rewards”, which makes him seem like a conformist, and he has no anecdotes that show him in the role of a free spirit except for the episode of the clay-eating,39 which is cited to explain his nickname (giving the origin of names and their proper spelling is always a feature of his biographies). Just as Yàqùt cites outside evidence, in the form of anecdotes gathered later, to support ‘Sniffy’’s own view of himself as a man who calls no-one master, so he uses the episode of Abù Nizàr and the goat (not in Ibn Khallikàn) to show Abù Nizàr’s independence. When the goat picks him out as “a king in the guise of a commoner, the most learned of men, the most generous of men”,40 what follows is something of a put-down for his chief patron: “Unable to contain himself, he tore off the robe of honour [which Nùr al-Dìn had just bestowed on him] and gave it to the owner of the goat. When Nùr al-Dìn heard of this, he reproached him for making light of his mark of princely favour [. . .] [but Abù Nizàr explained that this was the only one of the hundred thousand ‘goats’ in Damascus—presumably including Nùr al-Dìn—to give him his due]. Nùr al-Dìn laughed and said no more”. Yàqùt and Ibn Khallikàn may have had different ideas of how far it served their subjects to cast a veil of correctness over them, or they may, as these examples suggest, have had different agendas, which I will call political in the case of Yàqùt. With ‘Sniffy’ and Abù Nizàr, Yàqùt’s use of anecdote certainly seems slightly suspect 38 39 40

Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, vi, 139; he missed him by a little under two months. See note 22. See note 34.

àù’  : ‘’

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from a documentary point of view, although he cites witnesses, because of the way he makes the two characters echo each other. I am not suggesting that he invented witnesses and testimonies; but he may have recorded what fitted best with his own analysis of ‘Sniffy’’s character (as against, for example, Ibn Khallikàn’s assertion, apparently based on common repute since he names no sources, that “he praised the great and received their rewards”). Roy Mottahedeh observes of the Buyid period that “. . . anecdotes, in seeking verisimilitude, evoke a view of the social world that is very likely to be closer to a shared view of social reality than are the social models offered by . . . social theorists . . . and when we find . . . details repeated, it is a fair guess that [they] represented a view of the world”.41 Shared by whom? is the question. Here we can only speak for Yàqùt. It seems that, with its ruthless marginalisation of politics and rulers except insofar as they interact with adìbs, the underlying programme of his Udabà" is to argue the primacy of civility over power, and also, wherever possible, to show how udabà", so often involved in the power structure as state employees or as the protégés of rulers, nevertheless achieved a measure of authority rather than subservience. The great exemplar of this is the adìb and vizier al-Íà˙ib Ibn 'Abbàd (326–385/938–995), to whose biography Yàqùt devotes nearly sixty pages.42 The space that Yàqùt gives to contemporaries such as al-Qif†ì and his father, who likewise gained actual political power through their prestige as udabà", may be intended as the crowning proof of his argument, to which the comic triumphs of lesser adìbs over ‘the great’ add intuitive confirmation. If there is an argumentative element in the format of Yàqùt’s biography of ‘Sniffy’, particularly in his use of anecdotal evidence, something of the same sort may also apply to his literary quotations, given that they are chosen for their biographical value. On the other hand, the fact that these quotations include one of ‘Sniffy’’s sermons may make it possible to look beyond Yàqùt’s viewpoint. ‘Sniffy’’s exact contemporary in Baghdad was Abù al-Faraj 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Alì Ibn al-Jawzì (c. 511–97/1116–1201).43 Stefan Leder has sketched a

41 R. Mottahedeh, Loyalty and Leadership in an Early Islamic Society. 2nd edition, London and New York, 2001, ix, viii. 42 Yàqùt, Udabà", ii, 662–721. 43 He is quoted extensively as a source by Yàqùt, but there is no tarjama of him in the surviving text of his Udabà".

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context for Ibn al-Jawzì’s preaching: he used his homilies to mobilise his congregation in practical ways as well as to galvanise them morally. Thus in 568 and 569/1173–1174, when Baghdad was threatened by floods, he and other preachers were told to urge on the frightened people in the task of mending the dams.44 ‘Sniffy’’s sermons too were composed during an emergency, that of the counter-crusade. They may have been less functional; the closing passage of the khu†ba quoted by Yàqùt is not a general call to mobilise and indeed does not even use the word jihàd. Nevertheless, it may be a reminder that the Muslim soldiers fighting the Latins—the “all-victorious lions” who are the Prophet’s instruments in “upholding the summons of the faith”—deserve public support,45 and a gentle call to ‘moral rearmament’.46 On the literary and theological rather than the practical side, there seem to be close similarities between a set of sermons in the Óanbalì Ibn al-Jawzì’s Ru"ùs al-Qawàrìr,47 of which Merlin Swartz has made a study, and (the possibly Shi'i) ‘Sniffy’’s khu†ba. Ibn al-Jawzì’s khu†bas are different in structure,48 but they too contain “many . . . metaphors and figures of speech . . . taken from nature . . . he speaks of vegetation throwing off its shroud as springtime arrives . . .— an interesting juxtaposing of the themes of death and resurrection . . . The khu†bas make it quite clear that the God whom Ibn al-Jawzì sees in nature . . . cares for all of his creatures, not just for his human creatures”.49 Compare Swartz’s paraphrase with the nature imagery in the opening lines from ‘Sniffy’’s khu†ba (and note that, as well as 44 Stefan Leder, Ibn al-Ghauzì und seine Kompilation wider der Leidenschaft. Der Traditionalist in gelehrter Überlieferung und originärer Lehìe, Beirut 1984, 22. 45 See note 28. 46 A phrase used by Emanuel Sivan in connection with the Kitàb al-Jihàd of the Damascene 'Alì b. ˇàhir al-Sulamì, d. 500/1106 and, most recently by Carole Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic perspectives, 107. Al-Sulamì preaches personal moral regeneration as the indispensable groundwork for victory. 47 Ibn al-Jawzì, Ru"ùs al-qawàrìr fì ’l-khutab wa ’l-muhàdaràt wa ’l-wa'z wa ’l-tadhukkur, A. 'Abd al-'Azìzf, ed., Cairo, 1332/1914, (not seen by me); see M. Swartz, ‘Arabic rhetoric and the art of the homily in medieval Islam’, in R.G. Hovannisian and G. Sabagh, eds, Religion and Culture in Medieval Islam (Fourteenth Giorgio Levi Della Vida Biennial Conference), Cambridge, 1999, 36–65. 48 Swartz, ‘Arabic rhetoric’, 41–42: all but one of Ibn al-Jawzì’s thirty-one khu†bas are in monorhyme, rhyming with the concluding Qur"ànic quotation. ‘Sniffy’s’ khu†ba, on the other hand, rhymes in -bi, changes to -àdi just before the Qur"ànic quotation, also rhyming in -àdi, and ends on a sequence of decreasing rhymes, -àhà, -hà and -à. 49 Swartz, ‘Arabic rhetoric’, 42.

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rhyme, he uses cumulative patterns of alliteration and near-alliteration—selectively emboldened here—to produce rhetorically effective cross-rhythms): Praise be to God who splits open the ears of the grain of the harvest50 with the sword of the unsheathing of the rainclouds (al-˙amdu li ’Llàhi fàliqi qimami ˙abbi ’l-˙aßìdi bi-˙usàmi sa˙bi ’l-su˙ubi ), who dyes the ploughed cheek51 of the earth with the crimson of comely, ripening spring herbs (ßàbighi khaddi ’l-ar∂i bi-qànì rashìqi yàni'i ’l-'ushbi ), who breathes the spirit of life into their forms as into the trumpet of resurrection52 by the liquefaction of sweet, limpid water (nàfikhi rù˙i ’l-˙ayàti fì ßùri taßàwìrihà bi-sà"i˙i ’l-qarà˙i ’l-'adhbi ), who brings the dead earth to life by killing barren drought (mu˙yì mayyiti ’l-ar∂i bi-imàtati kàli˙i ’l-jadbi ), [. . .] who transmutes [perhaps ‘transubstantiates’?] the body of the nature of the blessed water53 into the shape of seed (mu˙ìli jismi †abì'ati ’l-mà"i l-mubàraki fì ashkàli ’l-˙abbi ) [. . .] for the sake of men and of cattle who bring forth young54 and milk ( jà'ilihi li ’l-anàmi wa ’l-an'àmi dhàti ’l-˙amli wa ’l-˙albi ). . . .55

This homily, like those of Ibn al-Jawzì in Swartz’s reading, “does not intend primarily to admonish, instruct, censure or reprove. It is rather an invitation to worship and a celebration of God’s greatness”56 (this is the theme of the following sections), and in its opening passage it too displays a sensibility informed by poetry, particularly nature poetry.57 But the choice of Qur"ànic echoes in the ‘nature’

50 Qur"àn 6 (al-An'àm): 95: inna ’Llàha fàliqu ’l-˙abbi wa ’l-nawà, etc., “It is God who splits the grain and the date-stone, brings forth the living from the dead; He brings forth the dead too from the living,” and 50 (Qàf ): 9: “And We sent down out of heaven water blessed, and caused to grow thereby gardens and grain of harvest (˙abb al-˙aßìdi )”. All translations are from A.J. Arberry, The Koran Interpreted, London, 1955. 51 There is a play on khadd al-ar∂i, “the earth’s cheek”, and khadda al-ar∂a, ‘to cleave the ground’. 52 A play on Qur"àn 6: 73: “It is He who created the heavens and the earth in truth; and the day He says ‘Be’, and it is; His saying is true, and His is the Kingdom on the day the Trumpet is blown (yawma yunfakhu fì ’l-ßùri )”. Íùr and taßàwìr overlap in ‘Sniffy’’s pun, since, as E.W. Lane points out, by a blurring of the words ßùr and ßuwar, the phrase yawma yunfakhu fì ’l-ßùri is also said to mean “when [the souls] shall be blown into the forms [of the dead]”, An Arabic-English Lexicon, London, 1863–1893, s.v. ßùr. 53 Qur"àn 50: 9: “And we sent down out of heaven water blessed (mà"an mubàrakan)”. 54 Pun on Qur"àn 6: 142: wa-mina ’l-an'àmi ˙amùlatan, “And of the cattle, for burthen”. 55 Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1695. 56 Swartz, ‘Arabic rhetoric’, 41. 57 Swartz, ‘Arabic rhetoric’, note 39.

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passage also seems to show an understanding of what nature meant to people who made their living from the land. The eschatological admonitions of the Qur"àn are jettisoned in favour of the here and now. The passage describes an uninterrupted cycle of harvest and of the sequences leading up to it: ploughing, spring growth, meltwater or rain, and seed, then harvest again, nourishing a sub-cycle in which the livestock in turn give birth and provide sustenance. The theme of human striving for salvation is not introduced until the providential cycle of nature has been established. “Sniffy’”s sermon blends the concrete and the metaphysical; but even so his images may have been intellectually above his congregation’s heads. Is the transmutation of ‘the nature of the blessed water’ into grain, for example, primarily a poetic conceit, drawn from ‘Sniffy’’s familiarity with wine poetry and its alchemical, quasireligious imagery,58 or an example of his personal heterodoxy; or is it a gesture to local people who lived side by side with native Christians and looked forward to the same seasonal ‘miracles’? It should of course be remembered that ‘Sniffy’ speaks of his “book of sermons (kitàb al-khu†ab)”;59 there is no evidence that he actually preached them in public. But perhaps he had his finger on the pulse of popular religious feeling just the same. Louis Pouzet’s recent study of a passage in the Dhayl 'alà ’l-Raw∂atayn of the Damascene Abù Shàma (599–655/1203–67) gives a near-contemporary example of religious syncretism in action.60 One Friday in the summer of 646/1248, a young Turkish slave soldier is crucified for murdering his master. He dies on Sunday, and Abù Shàma first sees him when he is taken down from the cross. He reports the extraordinary happenings ('ajà"ib) that are believed to have surrounded his crucifixion and death61 and how the crowd was moved by his beauty, stoicism and suffering. “Perhaps,” says Abù Shàma, “he was a martyr”,62 and Pouzet shows how his narrative transforms the death of this “saint Sébastien de l’islam”, as Pouzet calls him—hinting at closer parallels—into a passion “à la résonnance soufie . . . écho lointain [of the martyrdom of 58

Cf. text to note 19. Yàqùt, Udabà", iv, 1690. 60 L. Pouzet, ‘Histoire, mythe et autobiographie. Analyse d’un texte historique du VIIe/XIIIe siècle’, in W. Madelung et al., eds, Proceedings of the 17th Congress of the UEAI, St. Petersburg, 1997, 183–191, Arabic text 192–193. 61 Pouzet, ‘Histoire’, 188–190. 62 Pouzet, ‘Histoire’, 189–192. 59

àù’  : ‘’

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al-Óallàj] . . . Références historiques à peu près surement inconscientes de la part d’Abù Shàma et ses informateurs”.63 ‘Unconscious’, on Abù Shàma’s part, or simply internalised? The syncretism of ‘Sniffy’’s sermon seems to me to be internalised, but not unconscious, and may be popular or learned or both. The interview with ‘Sniffy’ marked an important point in Yàqùt’s life. Whether or not it triggered his fascination with men of letters— 'Abbàs suggests this as a possibility64—it may well have been ‘Sniffy’ who gave him proof that he had ‘arrived’ intellectually, as 'Abbàs shows. Yàqùt later confided to al-Qif†ì that ‘Sniffy’ had been so taken with his intelligence that, in a notable act of kindness, he offered to lend him a large sum of money in Egyptian dinars to trade with, li-tajida bihi mirfaqan, “so that you may be comfortably off ” (perhaps a polite way of saying ‘to purchase your freedom’). The only condition was that “when you are rich, you shall return the capital sum to me”. Yàqùt refused65 (perhaps, after all, he had concealed his servile status). There is no hint of this in Yàqùt’s interview with him, and presumably Yàqùt did not want it to form part of his images of ‘Sniffy’ or of himself—but al-Qif†ì put it into his Inbàh al-Ruwàt. Yàqùt concealed something of himself in his entry on ‘Sniffy’, only to be betrayed by al-Qif†ì. In its turn, Yàqùt’s entry on al-Qif†ì also looks rather like a breach of trust. Al-Qif†ì made some rather intimate avowals to him which he may not have been pleased to find blazoned to the public in Yàqùt’s Udabà". For example, he told Yàqùt that his grandmother was an Abyssinian slave who had made a good first marriage and had a family before marrying his mother’s father as a widow, and that his mother was Bedouin, whom his father had caught sight of on a horse-buying trip and had instantly fallen in love with.66 He also told Yàqùt how he felt the first stirrings of sexual awareness as a boy in Egypt, when he was about to hang a pet kitten which had misbehaved, but glimpsed his neighbour’s two beautiful daughters through the wall between their houses, which had crumbled and was waiting to be repaired. (He yields to their silent

63

Pouzet, ‘Histoire’, 190. See note 24. 65 'Abbàs, Diràsa, 2887, quoting al-Qif†ì, Inbàh al-Ruwàt 'alà Anbà" al-Nu˙àt, M. Abù al-Fa∂l Ibràhìm, ed., Cairo, 1973, ii, 244. 66 Yàqùt, Udabà", v, 2022–2023. 64

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pleading and lies to his mother about why he has spared the kitten. She sees through his fibs and warns him against concupiscence. His passion instantly wilts.)67 In another episode with his father, when he is older, he is snobbish, rude and petulant. His father, the eminent al-Qà∂ì al-Ashraf, shows himself to be a remarkably down-toearth parent and turns the incident into a joke.68 The first sequence (family, childhood and sexual awakening) forms the very beginning of Yàqùt’s entry on al-Qif†ì. The second vignette, some pages later (youth, rudeness to father), follows the account of how his father rose to high office. On the face of it, this sort of personal and trivial information has nothing whatsoever to do with alQif†ì’s achievements as a man of letters and does not add to his standing. Why is Yàqùt so curious about this kind of material, and so eager to record it for posterity? In the case of al-Qif†ì, it may be that Yàqùt was indiscreet because he wanted to show how close he was to his distinguished patron. By extension, whenever Yàqùt enters into the equation as an interviewer or confidant, the idea that he has given a subject’s personal details purely for the sake of in-depth biography may be slightly suspect; he may also be obtruding himself in some way. Yet personal detail is just as important in Yàqùt’s entries on udabà" long dead, where he has nothing to gain from recording it, and he goes to great lengths to find period sources which can supply it.69 Though his self-representation is not at stake here, it seems unlikely that the two kinds of entry have really different objectives. Yàqùt’s emphasis on biography proclaims that the adìb is as important as his adab. Conversely, if the adìb is fundamentally unsound, his adab must be treated with caution; the entry on Abù al-'Alà" al-Ma'arrì is an example of this attitude.70 Yàqùt’s large-scale biographies always seem to be posited on the ideas that there is a central strand or combination of strands to each subject’s character, and that his adab should be valued in the light of it. In his entry on ‘Sniffy’, we have an exceptionally neatly constructed exercise in demonstrating a relationship between Life and Works. Like the entry on Abù Nizàr, the biography of ‘Sniffy’ hinges 67 68 69 70

Yàqùt, Udabà", v, 2023–2024. Yàqùt, Udabà", v, 2030. As he promises to do in his preface, Udabà", i, 7. Yàqùt, Udabà", i, 295–356.

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on a comic epiphany, embodied in the follow-up to ‘Sniffy’’s meeting with the naqìb of Mosul and framed in terms of a zuhd parable to show what his character adds up to. (In the parallel case of Abù Nizàr, the epiphany is the follow-up to his encounter with the goat.) To spell out clumsily what Yàqùt suggests subtly under an appearance of slapstick, these emblematic incidents bring it home to us that, because of their stubborn independence, born of their fanatical devotion to adab (even if they rubbish everybody else’s adab), even eccentric, egotistical udabà" represent something worthy of being memorialised, because of their venial flaws, which are intrinsic to their self-respect, and not just in spite of them. As a hagiographer of adab, Yàqùt generally trumpets his subjects’ virtues; but sometimes—and this is part of the same project—he seeks out their formative weaknesses.


SÌRAT AL-MU"AYYAD SHAYKH BY IBN NÀHIÎ* Amalia Levanoni (Haifa)

The rivalry and competition that existed between scholars of the religious bureaucracy ('ulamà") is well known to researchers of the Mamluk sultanate in Egypt and Syria (1250–1517), thanks mainly to the studies by Carl Petry,1 Jonathan Berkey2 and Michael Chamberlain,3 which have made a significant contribution to our understanding of the modus operandi of this group and its relations with the Mamluk regime. Most of the information in the historical sources from which we can learn of the interpersonal relationships of the 'ulamà" concerns appointments to and dismissals from offices in the religious bureaucracy. The style of the sources in this matter is informative but restrained, revealing a little and concealing twice as much. The authors of historical works wrote this way with the intention of protecting the dignity and authority of the 'ulamà" as the spiritual leaders of the Muslim community. The historians themselves had enjoyed a formal, traditional education and from the social standpoint belonged to the 'ulamà" circles. Like them, many held office in the religious bureaucracy of the Mamluk Sultanate. A far different source in both style and content are the commentaries and polemical works composed by renowned scholars upon request of friends that dealt with both attacks on rivals and praises of friends or protégés. This literary genre includes the taqrìΩ (pl. taqàrìΩ), or a statement praising a literary work. Franz Rosenthal has

* I am grateful to Professor George Kanazi and Professor Butrus Abu Manneh for their useful comments and assistance, without which it would have been difficult to plumb the depths of the literary genre of the work that is the subject of the present article. 1 Carl Petry, The Civilian Elite of Cairo in the Later Middle Ages, Princeton, 1981; Protectors or Praetorians? The Last Mamluk Sultans and Egypt’s Waning as a Great Power, Albany, 1994, chapters v–vi. 2 Jonathan Berkey, The Transmission of Knowledge in Medieval Cairo, Princeton, 1992. 3 Michael Chamberlain, Knowledge and Social Practice in Medieval Damascus, 1190–1350, Cambridge, 1994.

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shown in his article “‘Blurbs’ (TaqrìΩ) from Fourteenth-Century Egypt”4 that the taqàrìΩ were works written by obliged scholars of high reputation of the time in praise of their friends’ newly published works. The purpose of the taqàrìΩ, much like today’s blurbs, was to promote the publication of the new work and its author. However, unlike the modern blurbs, the taqàrìΩ, were not brief and their style was extravagant.5 Rosenthal characterised succinctly the style of the TaqrìΩ in the following passage: The use of rhymed prose is obligatory throughout. The standard metaphors are copiously employed, with those subtle variations the presence of which marks an author’s originality. The Qur"àn is, of course, quoted or alluded to. Poetical insertions make their customary appearance everywhere, as does an occasional proverb. The metaphoric imagery contains no real surprise. We hear about things in nature such as moon, sun, heaven, stars; clouds, rain, ocean; pearls and jewels; gardens, fruits, plants. Man-made events constantly referred to are horse races, hippodromes, and archery contests. Frequent similes are the kindling of fire; magic (si˙r); emotion (caused by music and the like). Pigeons and fine garments occur sporadically, and so do many other familiar figures of speech.6

Fortunately, collections of polemics and taqàrìΩ survived and are at our disposal today. One such collection is the manuscript housed at the National Library in Berlin, which today includes the books and manuscripts formerly housed at the Imperial Museum. The manuscript is numbered in W. Ahlwardt’s catalogue of the Arabic manuscripts in Berlin as no. 8645 (WE 1473).7 This manuscript includes typical polemics and taqàrìΩ written by prominent scholars of the Mamluk period. The manuscript bears the title: Al-Ajwiba al-mu'tabira 'an al-futyà al-mubtakira allatì ansha"ahà 'alà"mat 'aßrihi wa-farìd Shàmihi wa-Mißrihi Jalàl al-Dìn Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Nubàta al-Mißri. This title is drawn from the first issue treated in the manuscript, namely, the polemical attack organised by the famous poet and religious scholar Mu˙ammad b. Nubàta8 against Shihàb al-Dìn

4 Franz Rosenthal, ‘“Blurbs” (taqrìΩ) from Fourteenth-Century Egypt’, Oriens 27–28 (hereafter Rosenthal), pp. 177–196. 5 Ibid., 178. 6 Ibid., 187–188. 7 W. Ahlwardt, Verzeichniss der Arabischen Handschriften der Kòninglichen Bibliothek zu Berlin, Berlin, 1883, ix, 580–581 (hereafter al-Ajwiba al-mu'tabira). 8 On Ibn Nubàta’s biography see below.

ì -"    à∂

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Ibn Fa∂l Allàh who stood at the time at the head of dìwàn al-inshà", or the correspondence bureau, for his refusal to nominate him as a clerk in the bureau. The manuscript includes, to my best knowledge, two collections of taqàrìΩ. Franz Rosenthal has treated in the aforementioned article the collection that was written in Egypt in 795/1393 for the work Nuzùl al-ghayth by Badr al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. Abì Bakr al-Qurashì al-Makhzùmì al-Iskandarì al-Màlikì, known as Ibn alDamàmìnì. For my present concerns, the most interesting collection in this manuscript is the one dealing with the biography of Sultan alMu"ayyad Shaykh (815/1412–821/1421) written by Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad Ibn Nàhi∂ al-Óalabì in 819/1416. It contains sixteen taqàrìΩ (there were others written for this work that did not survive) written over the two years 819/1416–820/1417 by contemporary 'ulamà" and covers seventeen folios of the manuscript (nos. 9–25). Ibn Nàhi∂ was born in Aleppo in 757/1356 or thereabouts. He devoted his time to writing literature (adab) and also wrote poetry that became well known among his contemporaries. He lived in Cairo where he joined one of the Sufi orders in which he wrote panegyrics to the leaders of the order and other Cairene dignitaries. He also lived for a while in Damascus where he made a living selling pottery. The historian Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Sakhàwì (d. 902/1497) tells us that on his return to Cairo, Ibn Nàhi∂ lived there until his death on 11th of Sha'bàn, 841/1437, subsisting on donations he was given in return for the panegyrics he composed for local dignitaries.9 The biography written by Ibn Nàhi∂ for al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh did not survive, but from the comments of the manuscript’s author and al-Sakhàwì, it appears that it was a taqrìΩ written in rhymed prose, particularly florid language abundant in mannerism of style and rhetorical expressions, and exaggerated flattery of the ruler to whom it was dedicated. It also seems that Ibn Nàhi∂ was known in Cairene literary circles as “the fool of the band”. Thus, for example, he was convinced that his work was flawless and requested “every religious scholar, learned man, historian and friend” (kull 'àlim wa-adìb wamu"arrikh wa-˙abìb)10 to write its praises. Moreover, when they acceded 9 Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Sakhàwì, al-Îaw" al-làmi' liahl al-qarn al-tàsi', Beirut, n.d., vols. i–x (hereafter al-Sakhàwì, Îaw"), x, 67. 10 Al-Ajwiba al-mu'tabira, fol. 91; al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", iii, 310.

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to his request and wrote in double-edged language that only appeared to praise his work, he did not discern this and accepted their words at face value. Eighteen men of letters, to our best knowledge, participated in this practical joke against Ibn Nàhi∂, the majority of whom were prominent figures in the religious establishment of the time, while several are also known to us as important historians, such as 'Alì b. A˙mad al-Maqrìzì, A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad al-Qalqashandì and A˙mad b. 'Alì Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì.11 The author of the manuscript critically notes the gap between their high intellectual status and the level of the joke in which they took part by defining it as “a respite from the pens” ('alà ˙ìn fatra mina al-aqlàm).12 In other words, these were words written while their pens rested from the serious and worthy writing that was typical of their routine. The author of the manuscript views the foolery of the 'ulamà" with a somewhat jaundiced eye and defines what they wrote as “low poetry and mean prose and weak and disgraceful” (naΩm sàfil wa-nathr nàzil wa-'ibàra rakìka mustahjana).13 Let us now see who these ‘buffoons’ were. 1. Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Uthmàn al-Bàrizì (769/1367–832/ 1428) was a Shàfi'ì scholar who was close to Sultan al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh. Their association began in 796/1393 when the latter was governor of the province of Tripoli. Al-Mu"ayyad extricated him from an uncomfortable situation when the governor of Aleppo dismissed him from his post as his personal secretary and confiscated his property. From that time al-Bàrizì became one of al-Mu"ayyad’s coterie. On his rise to power, al-Bàrizì was appointed to the office of secretary to the Sultan and became his confidant. This relationship yielded much property to al-Bàrizì and accorded him high status in the sultanate. Up to his death he held the office of preacher (kha†ìb) in the mosque built by al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh, and was the curator of his library. Among the intellectual talents mentioned by al-Sakhàwì is his being a man of belles lettres who had a very special talent for expression in prose and poetry.14

11 12 13 14

On their biographies see below. Al-Ajwiba al-mu'tabira, fol. 9L. Al-Ajwiba al-mu'tabira, fol. 9L. Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", ix, 137–139.

ì -"    à∂

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2. Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Umar b. Raslàn al-Bulqìnì (783/1381–824/1421) was also a Shàfi'ì scholar who was born in Cairo to a father with a traditional education who served in numerous high offices in the religious bureaucracy, and through his close relations to men of power, paved the way to it for his sons. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn served as an official in the bureau of correspondence and later as judge of the army (qà∂ì al-'askar). Through the mediation of his father, he became a confidant of Sultan al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh and so both he and al-Bàrizì belonged to the same social circle. After his father’s death, he was appointed chief muftì, or the judge authorised to hand down opinions in matters of religious law. He gained fame for his erudition in the various branches of religious law, his writing skills and fluent style in prose and poetry.15 3. Mu˙ammad b. Abì Bakr Ibn Jamà'a al-Shàfi'ì (749/1348–819/1416) belonged to the third-generation in a family of religious scholars. Among his teachers was 'Umar al-Bulqìnì, father of the abovementioned 'Abd al-Ra˙màn. His education was wide in the extreme, and apart from the various fields of traditional Islamic law, it included medicine, astrology, philosophy, literature, and arts such as fencing, archery and juggling (sha'wàdha). As a result of his wide education and tranquil disposition, he gained the admiration of his contemporaries. He was among Sultan al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh’s confidants and took part in the social gatherings held by him. Although he wrote excellent prose and poetry he concealed this talent, and this is perhaps the reason why the taqrìΩ he wrote on Ibn Nàhi∂’s work does not appear in the manuscript, despite the fact that both the manuscript’s author and al-Sakhàwì note its existence.16 4. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙ìm Ibn al-'Iràqì Abù Zur'a (762/1361–826/ 1423) was born to a father who was a religious scholar who insisted that his son be educated by the finest contemporary religious scholars. Like the other scholars mentioned earlier, his father ensured his advancement in various offices through his friend alBulqìnì (the father). After the death of his father he was given

15 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", iv, 106–113; Jamàl al-Dìn Abù al-Ma˙àsin Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, al-Manhal al-ßàfì wa’l-mustawfì ba'da al-wàfì, vols. i–viii, Cairo, 1984–99 (hereafter Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Manhal ), vii, 197; A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-Sulùk li-ma'rifat duwal al-mulùk, vols. i–iv, Cairo, 1934–73 (hereafter al-Maqrìzì, Sulùk), iv, 600. 16 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vii, 171–174.

216

5.

6.

7. 8.

 

his teaching post and became an authority on religious matters and an object of admiration for his knowledge and noble bearing. In 824/1421, he was appointed the Shàfi'ì qà∂ì al-qu∂àt in Egypt. As was accepted in literary circles, he wrote poetry and also essays on religious issues and history.17 Shihàb al-Dìn A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Qalqashandì (756/1355–821/1418) was a Shàfi'ì scholar who specialised in law and composition. His literary talent found expression in the vast encyclopaedia, Íub˙ ala'shà fì ßinà'at al-inshà", which he compiled on the art of clerkship in the Mamluk administration. Like the other scholars mentioned earlier, he was also outstanding in writing prose and poetry.18 Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn al-Bisà†ì (760/1358–842/1438) was born in the town of Bisà† in the al-Gharbiyya district located in the west Nile delta. With the help of his uncle, he received an education from the best traditional and secular teachers in Cairo. He specialised in law, linguistics, logic, medicine, engineering and mathematics, and was considered unique in his generation ( farìd dahrihi) and as one “who had no peers”.19 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Ibn al-Íà"igh. The identity of this scholar is unclear. A˙mad b. Ma˙mùd al-'Ajamì (777/1375–833/1429) was a Óanafì scholar who, like the others mentioned above, was given a traditional education, first by his father and later by teachers and educators brought in specially for this purpose. In his youth he was employed, among other offices, as an official in the bureau of correspondence, an inspector of the army in Syria and as a mu˙tasib (market inspector) in Cairo, from the majority of which posts he was dismissed for embezzlement. He also borrowed money and did not return it. Apart from these characteristics, he was a talented, fluent literary figure who stood out at the gatherings of intellectuals convened by Sultan al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh. He was the sultan’s drinking partner (nadìm) until his star waned and he was forced to go into hiding until the rise of al-Ashraf Barsbày to rule.20

17

Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", i, 336–344; A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Maqrìzì, Durar al-'uqùd alfarìda fì al-taràjim al-mufìda, Beirut, 1992, vols. i–ii (hereafter al-Maqrìzì, Durar al'uqùd), ii, 356–357. 18 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", ii, 8; al-Maqrìzì, Durar al-'uqùd, ii, 361–363. 19 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vii, 5–8. 20 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", ii, 223–224.

ì -"    à∂

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9. Fa∂l Allàh b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Ibn Makànis (769/1367–822/1419) grew up in an intellectual atmosphere in a family of Coptic extraction. His father was wazìr of Damascus and “one of the excellent poets (a˙ad fu˙ùl al-shu'arà")”.21 His father and his friend al-Badr Bashtàkì were his teachers and thus from a tender age he excelled in writing and poetry. After the death of his father in Cairo, his financial status deteriorated and he made a living as a junior clerk in the bureau of correspondence. However, his long-standing friendship with Ibn al-Bàrizì, who was mentioned earlier, helped him and with his mediation he became one of Sultan al-Mu"ayyad’s confidants. He gained the sultan’s special attention thanks to the panegyrics he wrote in his honour.22 10. Kamàl al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad al-Bàrizì was the son of Ibn al-Bàrizì mentioned earlier.23 He served as secretary to the sultan, apparently thanks to his father.24 11. Mu˙ammad b. Abì Bakr al-Makhzùmì al-Damàmìnì (763/1361– 827/1424) was born in Alexandria. He, too, was born into a traditionally educated family where he began his own education. He was later numbered among the pupils of well-known teachers in Alexandria and Cairo and specialised in law, Arabic and belles lettres. He taught syntax at al-Azhar and on his return to Alexandria tried to make a living as a weaver and as a preacher in a mosque. Following a fire that broke out in his home, destroying his looms, he was forced to flee his creditors to Upper Egypt. He was the only member of this group of scholars who tried his hand at manual labour in addition to his intellectual pursuits, but without success. When he returned to Cairo in 819/1416, like Ibn Makànis he was assisted by the mediation of Ibn alBàrizì in obtaining the post of chief judge of the Màlikì school of law in Egypt. In this way he became one of Sultan alMu"ayyad’s confidants and took part in the intellectual gatherings he held. It was in the same year that he wrote the derisory taqrìΩ on the biography written by Ibn Nàhi∂. It appears that he did not find his place in Cairo and a short time later he

21 Jalàl al-Dìn al-Suyù†ì, Óusn al-Mu˙à∂ara fì akhbàr Mißr wa’l-Qàhira, Cairo, 1881, (hereafter al-Suyù†ì, Óusn al-Mu˙à∂ara), ii, 330. 22 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vi, 172. 23 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", ix, 139; x, 217. 24 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", x, 218.

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went on the ˙ajj pilgrimage. From Mecca he travelled to Yemen and on to India where he taught and dabbled in commerce. He fell into debt there, but his death saved him from his creditors.25 12. Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Abì al-Wafà" (790/ 1388–852/1448) was the most famous member of the al-Wafà" family who were noted Màlikì religious scholars. He was born in Cairo where he received a traditional education with the most notable 'ulamà" of the time, among them Ibn Jamà'a and alBisà†ì who, as noted above, belonged to the same social circle. He gained particular fame as a poet and many people, including these two scholars, came to hear his poetry at the literary gatherings he held.26 13. A˙mad b. 'Alì Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì (773/1371–852/1448) was the greatest scholar of the fifteenth century in every field of Islamic law. Like the religious scholars mentioned so far, he too was born into an educated family that, despite his being an orphan, ensured that he was educated by the best scholars in Egypt, Syria and al-Óijàz. He quickly gained prominence among his colleagues and was the guide and mentor of generations of students, among whom were famous historians like al-Sakhàwì and Yùsuf Abù al-Ma˙àsin Ibn Tahgrìbirdì. Among his historical works are the Kashf al-ißr 'an qu∂at Mißr, Inbà" al-ghumr biabnà" al-'umr and al-Durar al-Kàmina fì a'yàn al-mi"a al-thàmina.27 14. Ya˙yà b. A˙mad Ibn al-'A††àr (789/1387–853/1449) was a famous poet who was born in al-Karak, Transjordan, southeast of the Dead Sea, to a father who held an administrative office in the household of the Mamluk emir Ma"mùr al-Qalam†àwì (d. 792/1389), the governor of the provinces of al-Karak and Óamàt. Orphaned at the age of three, he moved to Cairo where he received his education in the same circles mentioned above, and among his teachers were Ibn Jamà'a and Ibn Al-Bàrizì. He made 25

Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vii, 184–187. Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vii, 92–93. 27 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", ii, 36–40; al-Suyù†ì, Óusn al-Mu˙à∂ara, i, 363–366; al-Maqrìzì, Durar al-'uqùd, i, 238–250; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Manhal, ii, 17–33; Jamàl al-Dìn Abù alMa˙àsin Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, al-Nujùm al-zàhira fì mulùk Mißr wa’l-Qàhira, Cairo, 1929–72 (hereafter Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm), xv, 532–534; al-Dalìl al-shàfì fì al-manhal al-ßàfì, Cairo, 1982–4 (hereafter Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, al-Dalìl al-shàfì ), i, 64; Óawàdith al-duhùr fì madà al-ayyàm wa’l-shuhùr, Cairo, 1990 (hereafter Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Óawàdith), i, 196–199; Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Sakhàwì, al-Tibr al-masbùk fì dhayl al-sulùk, Cairo, n.d. (hereafter al-Sakhàwì, Tibr), 230–236. 26

ì -"    à∂

219

no special achievements in his religious studies but did gain prestige because of his connection through marriage to Ibn al-Bàrizì, who worked for his advancement. At first he tried to gain an entrée into the military elite and when that failed, he tried, without much success, bureaucratic and teaching posts at various colleges of Islamic law. Thus, he needed the support of the alBàrizì family for a long time. On the other hand, he was outstanding as a writer, poet and author and “he was one of the most perfect in poetry, prose and calligraphy (wa-huwa a˙ad alkamala fì al-naΩm wa’l-nathr wa’l-kha††)”.28 He was considered to be the successor of Ibn Nubàta (see below). 15. Aßìl Mu˙ammad b. Ibràhìm b. 'Alì al-Kha∂rì al-Màlikì. His biography was not found in the sources but his name is mentioned in passing in the biography of Mu˙ammad Ibn Jamà'a.29 16. Taqì al-Dìn A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Maqrìzì (760/1359–845/1441) was born in Cairo to a prestigious family of intellectuals on both his father’s and his mother’s side. His paternal grandfather, 'Abd al-Qà∂ìr b. Mu˙ammad (d. 732/1331), was a Óanbalì religious scholar in Syria and his maternal grandfather, Ibn al-Íà"igh (d. 776/1375), was a wealthy philologist and a Óanafì judge. From an early age al-Maqrìzì was educated to be a religious scholar as befitted a wealthy, educated family, but he gained the lion’s share of his fame and achievements from his work in history, to which he devoted all his time after withdrawing from public life in his last years. Al-Sakhàwì cites him as saying that his writings reached a hundred volumes that included history books that describe the events of his time, in addition to the documentation of preceding periods relying on earlier compilations.30 17. Zayn al-Dìn 'Abd al-Malik b. Abì Bakr al-Mawßilì (d. 844/1440). His father was a Shàfi'ì scholar from Mosul who settled in Damascus where 'Abd al-Malik was born. 'Abd al-Malik became a Sufi scholar in whose holiness many people believed and whom they visited to receive his blessing (istashfa'a bihi ).31

28

Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", x, 218. For Ibn al-'A††àr’s biography, see al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", x, 217–221; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm), xv, 544–545. 29 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vii, 172. 30 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", ii, 21–25; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm, xv, 490; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Manhal, i, 415–420. 31 Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", v, 84.

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18. 'Alà" al-Dìn 'Alì al-Sindì. No information on this writer was found in the sources. As we can see from the above list, Ibn Nàhi∂ and his work were criticised, as in other batches of taqàrìΩ, by a very talented group of intellectuals, and like other authors of new works during the Middle Ages, Ibn Nàhi∂ also requested them to compose “blurbs” for him. As was standard with taqrìΩ at the time, these “blurbs” have the same florid language and allusions to literary works and writers of Arabic literature through the generations. From the dates the majority of the taqàrìΩ have at their end, which all fall densely in the two years of 819/1416–820/1417, it is also evident that the authors responded to one another’s words, in no small measure of competitive extravagant language. One example will suffice to understand the characteristic style and content of these taqàrìΩ, and this has been chosen from the “blurb” composed by Ibn Fa∂l Allàh Ibn Makànis.32 I should mention that I found a special difficulty in translating it because as Franz Rosenthal has remarked, this type of composition is “truly untranslatable”.33 It is a distinctly Arabic literary genre which cannot be transmitted into another language. I have avoided, of course, the challenge of its rhyming and simply translated the content, while maintaining a literal translation as far as this was possible. 1. I looked at this biography . . . then I looked at it again. 2. And I urged (istanha∂tu) the pen to write about it at its author’s request. 3. But it shamefully lowered its head, and with hidden rasping, its breathing grew faster saying: 4. “I am not of those who do well in composing even one praising phrase such as this or set (wa-là yanha∂u) to describe the solid words (matìn kalàmihi ) that this man has composed which made the best reciters of poetry silent as if he had fed them mouthfuls of stones.” 5. For his pen has proudly moved over the scroll’s ground, and indeed he came with delicate (raqìq) words which the thirsty man supposes to be water.

32 33

Al-Ajwiba al-mu'tabira, fols. 14R–15R. Rosenthal, 190.

ì -"    à∂

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6. And by recording the events, he cast fear into the hearts, and they swelled out of dread and complained of what he had thrown and thrown [i.e., he had carelessly but enthusiastically put down]. 7. For had al-Qirà†ì balanced him, he would truly find him heavy. 8. Or had he hovered over Ibn [Abì] Óajala’s inaccessible enclosure, he would flee from his sight. 9. Or had the wine of his verse (sulàf naΩmihi ) been displayed to Ibn Nubàta, he would not have composed his “To Me with Your Appetent Drinking Cup”. 10. Or had he tried to match al-Shawwà" in starting fire, he would have burnt his heart and not a thing of his would have been approved. 11. Or were he the contemporary of Ibn al-Sà'àtì, he would have not enjoyed deep sleep. 12. Or had he competed with al-Naßìr al-Óammàmì, he would have cast his verses down the bath-drain. 13. Or had he [competed with] Ibn [al-]Óajjàj, he would have shown the corruption of his meagre intellect (na˙ìf 'aqlihi) and thrown all he had said [composed] into the lavatory. 14. For he deserves more than they [the glory] that excellence brings and draws. 15. Although their excellence has become well known, he is the one entitled to take his share in belles lettres. 16. For had it been imposed on him to explain an obscure expression, he would give its deepest meaning. 17. Or had he desired to apologise for a disgraceful deed, he would find the excuse for what he had done, and will do that quickly. 18. Had he enthusiastically set about to degrade something good he could have filled and loaded leaves of paper. 19. Or were he to advance false arguments against someone expressing the truth, he would diligently (la-naha∂a) press his arguments (˙ujajihi) while constantly committing solecisms (wa’stamarra yal˙an). 20. Glory is to God who gave him what intelligence has failed to apprehend and human intellect has been incapable of imagining. 21. For the pen had asked him for exemption from writing for fear of spreading his scandalous [faults] and to fold this leaf for fear of revealing his disgraceful acts. 22. But he [Ibn Nàhi∂] refused, insisting on exposing the hidden and unfolding the sealed . . .

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 

1. [NaΩartu ilà hàdhihi al-sìra . . . thumma karrartu al-naΩr fìhà 2. wa’stanha∂tu al-qalam li’l-kitàba 'alayhà ˙asaba su"àl munshi"hà 3. Fa-nakkasa al-qalam mina al-khajal ra"sahu wa-ßa'ada bi-ßarìrihi al-khafiyy anfàsahu wa-qàla 4. lastu mimman yujìdu min hàdhà al-taqrìΩ 'ibàra wa-là yanha∂u bi-waßfi mà jà"a bihi hàdhà al-rajul min matìn kalàmihi alladhì aljama al-fu˙ùl fa-ka-annamà alqamahum ˙ijàra. 5. Fa-la-qadd taraffa'a qalamuhu fì ar∂ qir†às wa-samà wa-atà bi-shay" mina al-raqìq ya˙sibuhu al-Ωam"àn mà". 6. Wa-qadhafa al-ru'b fì al-qulùb bi-dhikr al-waqà"i' fa-warimat khawfan wa-shakat mimmà qadhafa bihi wa-ramà. 7. Fa-law wàzanahu al-Qirà†ì la-thaqula fì al-˙aqìqa 'alayhi. 8. Aw ˙àma 'alà ˙imà Ibn Óajala la-farra †à"iran min bayna yadayh 9. Aw ˙allà 'alà Ibn Nubàta sulàfa naΩmihi lam yaqul “ilayya bi-ka"sika al-ashhà ilayy”. 10. Aw awrà zandahu ma'a al-Shawwà" la-a˙raqa qalbahu wa-lam yusta˙san minhu shay. 11. Aw 'àßara Ibn al-Sà'àtì lam yaltadhdh bi-†ìb al-manàm. 12. Aw jàra al-Naßìr al-Óammàmì la-alqà shi'rahu fì saràb al-Óammàm. 13. Aw Ibn Óajjàj la-Ωahara fasàd 'aqlihi al-na˙ìf wa-ramà bi-jamì' mà qàlahu fì al-kanìf. 14. Fa-huwa awlà minhum bi-mà jarrahu al-fa∂l wa-jadhab 15. wa-a˙aqq wa-in ishtaharat fa∂à"iluhum an yashtahir bi’l-adab. 16. Fa-innahu law kullifa li-gharìb mina al-qawl atà bihi 'alà kunhih. 17. Aw aràda al-i'tidhàr 'an qabì˙ la-qàma bi’l-'udhri 'ammà jà"a bihi wa-habba 'alà wajhih. 18. Wa-law taßaddà li-tahjìn ˙asan la-qadara yamla" al-†urùs wa-yash˙an. 19. Aw ˙àjaja bi’l-bà†il man yu'ribu 'an al-˙aqq la-naha∂a bi-˙ujajihi wa’stamarra yal˙an. 20. Fa-sub˙àn man qaddarahu 'alà mà tuqaßßiru 'an idràkihi al-afhàm wa-ya'jizu 'an taßawwurihi 'uqùl al-anàm. 21. Wa-la-qadd ista'fàhu al-qalam mina al-kitàba khashyatan min 'ar∂ fa∂a"i˙hi wa-sa"alahu †ayy hàdhihi al-ßa˙ìfa khawfan min nashr qabà"i˙ihi. 22. Fa-abà illà iΩhàr al-maktùm wa-fa∂∂ al-makhtùm . . .]”.

ì -"    à∂

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To all appearances in this excerpt, Ibn Makànis lauds Ibn Nàhi∂ for his literary accomplishments in the biography he wrote, saying that it surpasses the works of great poets. On the face of it, this praise tallies with the contemporary prevailing norm to include in the taqàrìΩ a comparison of the work discussed with earlier literary achievements.34 But actually all the belittling remarks he makes about the writers mentioned here are aimed at Ibn Nàhi∂ himself and they indeed strike at him through the use of double-entendre. The hints aimed at him highlight his pretentiousness, his lack of self-criticism, and above all, his mediocre intellectual capacity. First, the derision Ibn Makànis directs at Ibn Nàhi∂ is clearly expressed in the use he makes of verbs derived from the root nh∂, from which Ibn Nàhi∂’s name is derived, and they all reveal underestimation for him. There are three such cases in our excerpt. The first case appears in verse 2: wa’stanha∂tu al-qalam li’l-kitàba (bold added). The meaning of the verb istanha∂a is to encourage or to urge. Ibn Makànis plays here with the contrast between the metaphor of the restful pen that has to be urged to carry out its obligation and the alertness implied in Ibn Nàhi∂’s name—literally meaning the “son of the alert”, “full of vitality”—to express his reluctance to fulfil the arduous task of writing the requested “blurb”. The second instance appears in verse 6: wa-là yanha∂u bi-waßfi mà jà"a bihi hàdhà al-rajul (bold added). This time the verb naha∂a is used to express the author’s hesitations about his literary ability to accomplish the task of writing the “blurb”. It should be mentioned that Ibn Makànis is allegedly complying again with the formula commonly used in taqàrìΩ to express the author’s humbleness and unworthiness in comparison with the group of renowned scholars organised to write a “blurb” on a literary work.35 However, Ibn Makànis’ comparison of his own unworthiness against Ibn Nàhi∂ rather than against his counterpart’s muqarriΩun, as the custom requires, misuses the formula and renders it a mere means of mockery against Ibn Nàhi∂’s literary accomplishment. The third case appears in verse 19: la-naha∂a bi˙ujajihi wa’stamarra yal˙an (bold added). This time, Ibn Makànis uses the verb to hit directly on Ibn Nàhi∂’s lack of intellectual integrity and unrefined education. In this phrase, Ibn Nàhi∂ is mercilessly

34 35

Ibid., 189. Ibid., 188.

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portrayed as a person who refuses to back down in face of truth and sticks to his false arguments. To add insult to injury, his argumentation reveals minor grammar defects that attest to the imperfection of his knowledge. In this context, Ibn Makànis is probably hinting that in his biography of al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh, Ibn Nàhi∂ has included information that carelessly abused certain learned scholars. This claim against Ibn Nàhi∂ can be discerned also in other “blurbs” of this group of scholars and this might well be the reason for their common organised attack on him. Ibn Makànis goes on to toy with Ibn Nàhi∂ by seemingly describing the excellence of his work. For this purpose, he chooses ambiguous, double-edged, expressions. Thus, for example, it is described as “matìn kalàmihi” (verse 4), an idiom that literally means “solid words”. But it also carries the literary meaning of a well-structured work. Thus Ibn Makànis strikes at Ibn Nàhi∂’s work twice with a single expression; it is neither solid nor well-structured. A further example can be found in the use of the adjective raqìq (verse 5) to describe the discussed work. Raqìq, too, has a double meaning: “delicate” and “faint”. The latter links well with the rest of the rhyme that is a metaphor borrowed from the Qur"àn: ya˙sibuhu al-Ωam"àn mà". In the Qur"ànic verse (Qur"àn, 24:39) the unbelievers’ deeds are described as “. . . a mirage in a sandy desert that the thirsty man mistakes for water until he comes up to it, then he finds it to be nothing”. In parallel to the unbelievers’ deeds of the Qur"ànic verse, Ibn Nàhi∂’s work too creates the impression that it is “delicate”, but only for those who are inexperienced. The intelligent observer will find that it is “faint” and that it is as deceiving as the mirage in the arid desert. The climax of Ibn Makànis’ taqrìΩ is in its devaluation of Ibn Nàhi∂ while employing imaginary encounters between him and seven poets whose names are connected, not by chance, with Egypt and Syria. Here again, Ibn Makànis complies with the formula that called for the comparison of the work discussed in the “blurb” with earlier literary achievements.36 In the encounters between Ibn Nàhi∂ and each of the poets, Ibn Makànis makes a mockery of him by intentionally getting hold of the wrong end of the stick. He refutes

36

Ibid., 189.

ì -"    à∂

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the seven poets in the face of Ibn Nàhi∂’s greatness by using the literal meaning of the rhymes, but in their homiletic interpretation he reveals Ibn Nàhi∂’s futility, again by using double entendre. In the first encounter (verse 7), Ibn Nàhi∂ is hypothetically faced with Abù Is˙àq Ibràhìm b. Mu˙ammad al-Qirà†ì (726/1326–781/ 1379).37 Al-Qirà†ì was born in Qirà†, a township in the Sharqiyya district in the eastern Nile Delta. He grew up in Cairo in a scholarly family and received a religious education. He became Ibn Nubàta’s (see below) disciple. It is worthy of mention for the purpose of the present discussion that he, too, composed panegyrics praising Sultan al-Nàßir Óasan (d. 762/1361). In a comparison between al-Qirà†ì and Ibn Nàhi∂, Ibn Makànis creates a play on words based on al-Qirà†ì’s name that is associatively reminiscent of the unit of weight (carat, qirà†) that was, and still is, used as a unit of gold weight equivalent to 0.2 grams. So in this rhyme Ibn Nàhi∂ is playfully presented as though in competition in a workroom of an artisan such as a jeweller or goldsmith. In this contest, were al-Qirà†ì the poet to put himself on one pan of the scales and Ibn Nàhi∂ on the other, he would discover, ironically, that the latter was heavier. However this rhyme can be read with the unit of weight implicit in al-Qirà†ì’s name allegorically standing at the centre. In this sense, the jeweller’s delicate balance would show that Ibn Nàhi∂’s weight is insignificant for it can be measured only in carats. The second writer with whom Ibn Makànis compares Ibn Nàhi∂ is Abù al-Abbàs A˙mad b. Ya˙yà Ibn Abì Óajala (725/1325–776/ 1375)38 (verse 8). Ibn Abì Óajala was born in Tilimsan in his grandfather’s Sufi religious convent. After performing the pilgrimage to

37 Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm, xi, 197–200; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Manhal, i, 89–95; alSuyù†ì, Óusn al-Mu˙à∂ara, i, 229–230; A˙mad b. 'Alì Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì, alDurar al-kàmina fì a'yàn al-mi"a al-thàmina, Cairo, n.d. (hereafter Ibn Óajar, Durar), i, 32; Abù al-Falà˙ 'Abd al-Óayy Ibn al-'Imàd, Shadharàt al-dhahab fì akhbàr man dhahab, Beirut, 1966 (hereafter Ibn al-'Imàd, Shadharàt al-dhahab), vi, 269; Jurjì Zaydàn, Ta"rìkh àdàb al-lugha al-'Arabiyya, Cairo, 1957 (hereafter Zaydàn, Àdàb al-lugha al'Arabiyya), iii, 135; C. Brockelmann, Geschichte der Arabischen Literatur, Weimar, 1898–1902 (hereafter Brockelmann), ii, 14; 'Umar Farrùkh, Ta"rìkh al-adab al-'Arabì, Beirut, 1969 (hereafter Farrùkh), iii, 812. 38 Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm, xi, 131–132; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, al-Dalìl al-shàfì, i, 96; al-Suyù†ì, Óusn al-Mu˙à∂ara, i, 329; al-Maqrìzì, Sulùk, iii, 243–244; al-Maqrìzì, Durar

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Mecca, he settled in Cairo in 751/1350 where he became head of a Sufi order where he was occupied with poetry and prose rather than mystical writing. It is worth mentioning that he made some enemies after his attack on the contemporary Sufi poet Ibn Fàri∂ and his controversial conduct. Thus, for example, he gave his son the uncommon sobriquet Jinà˙ al-Dìn and he used to change his school of law affiliation in accordance with who he was facing, Shàfi'ìs, Óanafìs or traditionalists. Among his compositions are Sukkardàn al-sul†àn, which was dedicated to Sultan al-Nàßir Óasan and al-ˇàri" 'alà al-Sukkardàn in praise of the same sultan. Ibn Abì Óajala also wrote an anthology of maqàmàt called Man†iq al-†ayr, “The Bird’s Talk”, alluding in this title to himself, as the literal meaning of his name is “the son of the partridge’s father”. In the above mentioned verse, Ibn Makànis again plays on Ibn Abì Óajala’s name. The connection between his name and the title of the anthology he wrote alludes to the adverb †à"iran used by Ibn Makànis in this scene. The rhyme sarcastically describes Ibn Nàhi∂ as a bird of prey hovering over Ibn Abì Óajala who, like a vulnerable bird, protects himself in his preserve and flies from his grasp. By contrast, the interpretation of the scene, like the previous one, is that Ibn Nàhi∂ has pretensions of imitating Ibn Abì Óajala’s unique style, but in reality his incapability is clear. In his illusion, he has the bird in his hand but only to toy with him, for it escapes between his fingers in much the same way the mirage of the Qur"ànic verse vanishes before the thirsty man in the desert. The third imaginary encounter (verse 9) described by Ibn Makànis is between Ibn Nàhi∂ and the poet Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Nubàta (686/1287–768/1366).39 Ibn Nubàta was born in Cairo and grew up in a religious and scholarly atmosphere. In his early career he wrote panegyrics in honour of Cairene dig-

al-'uqùd, ii, 384; Ibn Óajar, Durar, i, 350–352; A˙mad b. 'Alì Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì, Inbà" al-ghumr bi-abnà" al-'umr, Hyderabad, 1967, vols. i–viii, (hereafter Ibn Óajar, Inbà"), i, 81–82; Ibn Iyàs, Badà"i' al-zuhùr fì waqà"i' al-duhùr, Cairo, 1960–75, vols. i–v (hereafter Ibn Iyàs, Badà"i'), i/ii, 146–147; Zaydàn, Àdàb al-lugha al-'Arabiyya, iii, 133–134; Brockelmann, ii, 13; Sup. ii, 5–6; EI 2, s.v. 39 Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm, xi, 95; Ibn Óajar, Durar, iv, 347; Ibn al-'Imàd, Shadharàt al-dhahab, vi, 212; al-Suyù†ì, Óusn al-Mu˙à∂ara, i, 329; Íalà˙ al-Dìn Khalìl b. Aybak al-Íafadì, Kitàb al-Wàfì bi-al-wafayàt, Wiesbaden, 1979 (hereafter al-Íafadì, al-Wàfì ), i, 270; Zaydàn, àdàb al-lugha al-'Arabiyya, iii, 132–133; Brockelmann, ii, 11–12; EI 2, s.v.

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nitaries and enjoyed the patronage of the Ayyubid ruler of Óamàt, al-Malik al-Mu"ayyad Abù al-Fidà" (710/1311–732/1332), to whom he dedicated his panegyric al-Mu"ayyadiyyàt. After al-Mu"ayyad’s death, Ibn Nubàta made his livelihood wandering from town to town in Syria, writing panegyrics in honour of dignitaries. In 761/1360 he left Damascus for Cairo, where out of pity Sultan al-Nàßir Óasan appointed him as an official in the dìwàn al-inshà". He held this post for a very short time and spent the rest of his life in poverty. His prose is characterised by mannerism of style and his poetry is abundant with rhetorical flourishes. His famous poetic collections are alSaj' al-mu†awwaq and al-Qa†r al-Nubàtì. Ibn Makànis, therefore, did not choose Ibn Nubàta by chance. Like Ibn Nàhi∂, he composed panegyrics for a ruler who bore the laqab, or regnal title, al-Mu"ayyad. Ibn Makànis also displays his erudition in the works of this much-admired poet in his choice of the expression sulàf naΩmihi. In addition to the meaning presented in the above translation, another meaning is “the first juice of the grapes”, through which Ibn Makànis alludes to Ibn Nubàta’s anthology alQa†r al-Nubàtì (“The Nubàtì Drops”) which includes his famous drinking song “To me with your appetent drinking cup” cited in the present rhyme.40 In light of these allusions leading to Ibn Nubàta’s work, the rhyme says that had Ibn Nàhi∂ adorned the biography he wrote in the style of al-Qa†r al-Nubàtì, he would have surpassed Ibn Nubàta so much so that he would have been helpless and unable to write his famous poem. The fourth encounter (verse 10) is between Ibn Nàhi∂ and Yùsuf b. Ismà'ìl al-Shawwà" al-Óalabì (562/1166–635/1237).41 Al-Shawwà" was born in Mosul but spent his life in Aleppo. He was trained as a poet by Mas'ùd b. Abì Fa∂l al-Naqqàsh and therefore he imitated his style. He is the author of a four-volume book of poetry that includes panegyrics, love poems and erotic verses.

40 For this poem see: 'Umar Mùsà Bàshà, Ibn Nubàta al-Mißrì amìr al-shu'arà", Cairo, 1963, 272–273. I am indebted to Professor George Kanazi for this information. 41 A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt al-a'yàn wa-anbà" abnà" al-zamàn, Beirut, 1998 (hereafter Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt), v, 579–585; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm, vi, 302; Ibn al-'Imàd, Shadharàt al-dhahab, v, 178; Zaydàn, Àdàb al-lugha al-'Arabiyya, iii, 21; Brockelmann, ii, 298; Farrùkh, iii, 528–529.

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In this encounter Ibn Makànis creates a play on words linked to al-Shawwà"’s name: a shawwà" is a seller of roast meat in the market. He employs the words zand which literally means a flint and a˙raqa (“to burn”). It is interesting to note that al-Shawwà" chose to describe himself as a fire that can destroy amber,42 and it appears that it is not accidental that Ibn Makànis chose to present him by employing metaphors of fire. Ibn Nàhi∂ is described as physically competing with al-Shawwà" in starting fire (awra zandahu) but the latter’s heart would burn with sorrow (a˙raqa qalbahu) because anything he might do in comparison with Ibn Nàhi∂ would not be approved of. However, the figurative meaning of awra zandahu is “to try his capacities or wit”. In this context, Ibn Nàhi∂ is sarcastically described as attempting to compete with al-Shawwà" in composing beautiful poetry. The next rhyme (verse 11) sets Ibn Nàhi∂ against the poet Bahà" al-Dìn 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Sà'àtì (553/1158–604/1207).43 Ibn al-Sà'àtì was born in Damascus to a skilled clockmaker. He was a famous poet who earned his living as a panegyrist. In 579/1183, for example, he composed a poem in praise of Íalà˙ al-Dìn. When his success waned in Syria, he left for Egypt where he continued to make a living by composing panegyrics to Ayyubid dignitaries. Ibn al-Sà'àtì’s name is linked to the clock-making profession. Here, the scene of Ibn Nàhi∂’s contest is associated with the routine activities done at set times. The author places Ibn Nàhi∂ as Ibn al-Sà'àtì’s contemporary, and because of the challenge set by Ibn Nàhi∂, Ibn al-Sà'àtì feels threatened, loses his calm and cannot sleep, or in other words, the routine of his life is disturbed. Ibn Makànis’s sarcastic hint here is to Ibn Nàhi∂’s name, as the verb naha∂a means also “to awaken from sleep”. In the sixth scene (verse 12), Ibn Makànis places Ibn Nàhi∂ into contest with al-Naßìr A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Óammàmì (d. 712/1312).44 Al-Óammàmì was an Egyptian poet who made a living by renting baths in Cairo. When he grew old he left this work and spent the rest of his life in poverty, begging donations for poems he wrote. His poetical style is common and his topics represent everyday life. He was therefore often condemned for his low poetry. 42

Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, v, 579. Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, iii, 346–347; Farrùkh, iii, 440–402; Zaydàn, Àdàb allugha al-'Arabiyya, iii, 20–21; EI 2, s.v. 44 Mu˙ammad b. Shàkir b. A˙mad al-Kutubì, Fawàt al-wafayàt, Cairo, 1866, ii, 384–386; al-Íafadì, al-Wàfì, xxvii, 103–120; Farrùkh, iii, 718–719. 43

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In this case, too, al-Óammàmì’s name is directly linked to the craft he actually practiced, and as this was one of his favourite themes, he dedicated some of his poems to his bathhouse.45 In the imagined contest between the two, al-Óammàmì will be at a complete disadvantage and this will cause him to throw all his poetry down the bathhouse drain. It is clear that Ibn Makànis’s intention is to show the proper place of the biography written by Ibn Nàhi∂. The last imaginary contest (verse 13) is between Ibn Nàhi∂ and al-Óusayn b. A˙mad Ibn al-Óajjàj (330/941–391/1001).46 Ibn alÓajjàj was a Shiite Arab poet who was born in Baghdad. He enjoyed the patronage of the Buyid rulers and succeeded in amassing a fortune by eulogising men of power. He was the author of mediocre and traditional panegyrics, yet he gained fame as the founder of the poetic genre of sukhf characterised by its nonconformist, aggressive and vulgar language. Therefore, his poetry was criticised and often forbidden by traditional authorities. Ibn al-Óajjàj was not affected by the criticism levelled against him and adhered to the style of writing with which he achieved a standard unsurpassed by poets who tried to imitate it. When he was criticised for his use of obscene language in his sukhf poems, he responded with a critical poem saying that he had weaned himself from the hypocrisy of hiding his playful words behind the mask of seriousness, and that he had no choice but to ignore the shame and speak of low matters, for they were part of life: “Can there be a house without a lavatory that the intelligent man sees as a [worthy] dwelling place (wa-hal dàr takùn bi-là kanìf yakùn li-'àqil fìhà maqàm)”.47 It would therefore appear that Ibn Makànis compared Ibn Nàhi∂ with Ibn al-Óajjàj using the best of his similes. The expression na˙ìf 'aqlihi is a synonym of sukhf and we have already seen that al-Óajjàj used the lavatory, kanìf, as a metaphor for obscene matters in his poems. So when Ibn Nàhi∂ is confronted with Ibn al-Óajjàj, his sukhf poetry is revealed against the biography under discussion. Helpless, Ibn al-Óajjàj will recognise the worthlessness of his poetry and throw 45

Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, v, 107, 117. Ibn Khallikàn, Wafayàt, ii, 144–148; al-Íafadì, al-Wàfì, xii, 331–337; 'Alì b. Abì al-Karam Ibn al-Athìr, al-Kàmil fì al-Ta"rìkh, ix, 58; Isma'ìl b. 'Umar Abù alFidà, Ibn Kathìr, al-Bidàya wa’l-Nihàya, Beirut, 1966, xi, 329; EI 2, s.v. 47 Mu˙ammad Bàqir al-Khwansàrì, Raw∂àt al-jannàt fì a˙wàl al-'ulamà" wa’l-sàdàt, Iran, 1928, 238; Abù Manßùr al-Naysàbùrì al-Tha'àlibì, Yatìmat al-dahr fì shu'arà" ahl al-'aßr, Cairo, 1956, iii, 33. 46

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it down the toilet. Here, too, as in the case of al-Óammàmì, Ibn Makànis hints that the fitting place for Ibn Nàhi∂’s biography is the lavatory. As we have seen, in this section of Ibn Makànis’s taqrìΩ, and to a great extent in the other taqàrìΩ by this group of scholars, the author mocks Ibn Nàhid’s simplicity and defective education using allusion-laden rhetoric about literary works and writers in Arabic literature that Ibn Nàhi∂ cannot, in any way, be their equal. Clearly, this patronising approach to Ibn Nàhi∂ stemmed from the fact that the task of writing “blurbs” was given normally to outstanding scholars of the time. Indeed, Ibn Makànis and his erudite colleagues mentioned earlier were counted among the learned men of recognised importance and reputation of their age and not by chance belonged to the same elitist social circle of intellectuals that surrounded Sultan al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh. It would therefore appear that aside from the common intellectual denominator of these scholars, they defined themselves as a unique group through their social background, too. They were all born into educated, competitive families who gave them a broad education of the highest standard and even helped them to climb the social ladder through bureaucratic appointments and their connections with the upper echelons of the ruling Mamluk elite. In most cases their acquaintanceship was based on their studies with the same teachers, as they quite naturally studied with the best teachers available, and there were not many of those. For this reason their acquaintanceship also crossed the borders of the schools of Islamic law to which they belonged. In this group, together with al-Bisà†ì, Ibn-Óajar al-'Asqalànì and al-Maqrìzì, who were renowned for their piety, there were also 'ulamà" of doubtful character like Ibn al-'Ajamì and al-Damàmìnì. The assistance provided by the influential members of this group to the latter in bringing them back into the restricted social circle close to the sultan after they became dubiously involved and their star had waned, shows that there was solidarity among them based on their common social and intellectual background, to the point of ignoring conduct considered inappropriate to their social class. Despite his literary talents, Ibn Nàhi∂ was clearly not a member of this group of scholars. His lowly social status—he did, after all, make a living by selling pottery and was accused of having solecisms in his speech—is mockingly alluded to by Ibn Makànis in the taqrìΩ mentioned above, by the very selection of poets with whom he com-

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pares him. Most of them bear the name of an artisan: al-Óammàmì actually made a living by renting bathhouses and Ibn al-Sà'àtì’s father was a clock-maker. But more important is the fact that all these poets had a further common denominator with Ibn Nàhi∂. Like him, they wrote panegyrics, some of them for recompense,48 and like him they did so openly and outspokenly. However, some of the scholars who criticised Ibn Nàhi∂ were “guilty” of the same sin of which they accused him, for Ibn Makànis himself wrote songs of praise, qaßài"d, to Sultan al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh49 without the censure given to Ibn Nàhi∂. Moreover, writing biographical essays of a clearly literary character was an accepted norm and works of this kind were written under the aegis of the sultan and those in positions of power throughout the Mamluk period. P.M. Holt has noted the literary characteristics of works of this kind, defining them a “genre of courtly literature”.50 Among the first biographical works of this kind are al-Raw∂ al-¸àhir fì sìrat al-Malik al-¸àhir by Mu˙yì al-Dìn 'Abd Allàh Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir and Ta"rìkh al-Malik al-¸àhir by 'Izz al-Dìn b. 'Alì Ibn Shaddàd (d. 684/1285), that were offered to Sultan al-¸àhir Baybars (658/1260–676/1277). Among the last of these biographies is al-Badr al-¸àhir fì nußrat alMalik al-Nàßir which Ibn al-Shi˙na (851/1477–921/1515) dedicated, in the twilight of Mamluk rule, to Sultan al-Nàßir Mu˙ammad, the son of Qàytbày (902/1496–904/1498). Furthermore, the work al-Sayf al-muhannad fì sìrat al-Malik al-Mu"ayyad, written by Badr al-Dìn Ma˙mùd al-'Aynì, is a true contemporary of Ibn Nàhi∂’s work. All these biographical works were not condemned by contemporary historiographers of the Mamluk period, but were accorded recognition as legitimate historical sources on which later historical writings were based. Contemporary historians found no flaw in the words of praise for the subjects of these biographies, nor in the selectivity employed in the presentation of the events recounted in them. It is probable that the reason for this is that Muslim tradition perceived history writing as “one of the ˙adìth branches ( fann min funùn al˙adìth)”,51 and accorded it a didactic role in instructing the rulers

48

Ibn Óajar, Durar, iii, 347; EI 2, iii, 780, 900. Al-Sakhàwì, Îaw", vi, 172. 50 P.M. Holt, ‘Literary Offerings: A Genre of Courtly Literature’, in The Mamluks in Egyptian Politics and Society, T. Philipp and U. Haarmann, eds, Cambridge, 1998, 3–16. 51 Al-Sakhàwì, Tibr, 3; Ibn Tahgrìbirdì, Nujùm, i, 1. 49

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and office holders to the normative conduct of leadership in light of the past, based on the model of the Prophet Mu˙ammad as it could be learned from the ˙adìth. The lesson to be learned from the historical narrative was therefore more important than precision as far as the details of events were concerned. Moreover, historians were directed to observe and preserve the normative social order where a place of honour for Muslim religious institutions was kept, and therefore they had to conceal information that could harm it: “And if an event included a damaging matter that should be concealed, then he [the historian] should not exaggerate in his revelations and should use an allusion so that he is not guilty of a slip of the tongue (wa-in kàna fì al-waqì'a amr qadì˙ fì ˙aqq al-mastùr fa-yanbaghì an là yubàligha fì ifshà"ihi wa-yaktafì bi’l-ishàra li-allà yakùn waqa'at minhu falta)”.52 In light of these rules, it was only because of his background that Ibn Nàhi∂ did not understand the social and ethical codes of the group of scholars that criticised him. In contrast to him, they knew the correct measure of and the right genre for writing words of praise to rulers. They knew how to create an image of independent men of letters with ethical principles, and at the same time to enjoy their closeness to the sultan, and to serve him regardless of the ideal of Muslim tradition recommending alienation from rule for fear of the corruption associated with it.53 As opposed to them, Ibn Nàhi∂ was not only clumsy in his writing, but he also sinned against them in that he did rudely what they did modestly, and by his very deeds revealed what they endeavoured to conceal in their own refined way.

52 53

Al-Sakhàwì, Tibr, 3. Carl Petry, Protectors or Praetorians? chapters v–vi.

FOOT SOLDIERS, MILITIAMEN AND VOLUNTEERS IN THE EARLY MAMLUK ARMY* Reuven Amitai ( Jerusalem)

At the beginning of the Fifth Crusade in 1219, when a large Frankish army landed near Dimyà† on the Egyptian coast, many men from Cairo, clearly civilians, set out for the jihàd. Evidently this number was not enough, even together with the regular army stationed in Cairo and contingents from Syria. The Ayyubid sultan of Egypt, alMalik al-Kàmil, then ordered half of the occupants of Cairo to join the Muslim army, “either voluntarily or by compulsion”. What this motley collection of civilians actually did during the campaign against the Frankish invasion is left unsaid. Some two years later, with the Franks still in Egypt, but now attempting to move south to the capital, al-Kàmil again issued an order calling on Cairo’s civilian population to join the fight; this time, however, all eligible men were called up. It is impossible to say how these irregulars would have fared, since soon afterwards al-Kàmil’s brothers and other Ayyubid princes in Syria showed up with their regular armies;1 at best, this ad-hoc formation was seen as a stop-gap measure in a desperate situation.2

* This paper is based on a lecture given at the fifth conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East, held at Jerusalem in July 1999. Both the title and much of the contents have been substantially changed in the process of preparing it for publication. There has been little systematic, let alone comprehensive, discussion of infantry and related topics in the Mamluk Sultanate. There is a succinct and useful review of the matter in EI 2, s.v. ‘Óarb—The Mamlùk Period’ (D. Ayalon). There is also some discussion, accompanied by a highly imaginative illustration, in D. Nicholle, The Mamluks 1250–1517 (Men-at-Arms Series, no. 259) London, 1997, 19, 38–39 (the plates are by Angus McBride). I discuss this latter study in footnote 49. 1 A. Khater and O.H.E. Khs-Burmester, eds and tr., History of the Patriarchs of the Egyptian Church, Cairo, 1943–74, iv, 21, 28, 35–36 (Arabic text); 44, 58, 74–75 (translation); cf. C. Marshall, Warfare in the Latin East, Cambridge, 1992, 36. 2 For these events, see R.S. Humphreys, From Saladin to the Mongols, Albany, 1978, 162–170; T.C. Van Cleve, ‘The Fifth Crusade’, in K.M. Setton, ed., A History of the Crusades, Philadelphia and Madison, 1955–89, ii, 377–429. Common people from Cairo also volunteered in 1249, in response to Louis IX’s arrival by Manßùra; see

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Some twenty years later, foot soldiers play a certain role at the battle of Gaza (November 1239), but their provenance and character are not completely clear. The Muslim commander, Rukn al-Dìn Al†unbà al-Hayjàwì, commanded some 2,000 Egyptian regulars, surely cavalrymen.3 Learning of the approach of the Frankish column under Count Henry of Bay, he put out a call (carried by fire signals and messengers) for local men to join him. Subsequently, what appear to be foot soldiers surrounded the unsuspecting Franks from sand dunes and hills, raining arrows and stones on them. The MS. de Rothelin calls them les arbalesteirz, les archerz, les lanceurz et les frondielleurz et les genz à pié (‘arbalesters [crossbowmen], archers, lancers, slingers and men on foot’).4 Although it is not explicitly stated which of these were dismounted professional cavalrymen, and which hailed from the impromptu collection of volunteers from the local peasantry or townspeople, it seems that the second category (archers) at least probably refers to dismounted regulars, as they were certainly more likely to have the necessary skills and equipment; the arbalesters, lancers and slingers may also have belonged to this class. In any event, all these categories are distinguished from les genz à pié, which perhaps referred to the impromptu gathering of volunteer, and untrained, local infantry. Be this as it may, this mixed force of men fighting on foot played an important part in the battle, which ended in a complete Muslim victory with many dead and captured Franks.5

Taqì al-Dìn A˙mad b. 'Alì al-Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-sulùk li-ma'rifat duwal al-mulùk, Cairo, 1934–73, i, 347–348. 3 It is reported that the regular army of Egypt under al-Kàmil was composed of 12,000 horsemen; Mu˙ammad b. Sàlim Ibn Wàßil, Mufarrij al-kurùb fì akhbàr banì ayyùb, Ó.M. Rabì', ed., Cairo, 1972, iv, 209; cf. Qu†b al-Dìn al-Yùnìnì, Dhayl mir"at al-zamàn fì ta"rìkh al-a'yàn, Óaydaràbàd, 1954–61, iii, 261–262, who gives the figure of 10,000. 4 ‘MS. de Rothelin’ (‘Continuation de Guillaume de Tyr de 1221 à 1261 edité du Manuscript de Rothelin’), in Recueil des historiens des croisades, historiens occidentaux, Paris, 1844–95, ii, 543; cf. the translation in J. Shirley, Crusader Syria in the Thirteenth Century: The Rothelin Continuation of the History of William of Tyre with part of the Eracles or Acre Text, Aldershot, 1999, 48: “The crossbowmen, archers, javelin-men and slingers . . .”, with no mention of ‘men on foot’. 5 The battle is discussed in S. Runciman, History of the Crusades, Cambridge, 1951–54, iii, 214–215; R. Grousset, Histoire des croisades et du royaume franc de Jérusalem, Paris, 1934–36, iii, 380–381; J. Prawer, Histoire du royaume latin de Jérusalem, Paris, 1970, ii, 272–274; Marshall, Warfare, 36, 179–180, who evidently understood that the entire Muslim force attacking from above was composed of local militiamen. The Arabic sources (see, e.g. History of the Patriarchs, iv, 95–96 (Arabic text); 195–197

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Another example, also from Palestine and showing local initiative, is from 1229: several religious scholars from Nablus and Hebron organised local farmers to attack the Franks in Jerusalem soon after it was transferred to them. Nothing, however, came of this campaign.6 All these examples show the limitations of volunteer infantry formations during the later Ayyubid period, both in Syria and Egypt. The one time when foot soldiers seem to have had a real impact, in 1239, was when they were apparently largely professional soldiers who had dismounted. At the time of Saladin, volunteer infantry units had already been greatly marginalised. H.A.R. Gibb, in his pioneering study of Muslim armies at the time of Saladin, concluded that militias and formations composed of volunteers were on the way out.7 Certainly the heyday of the Syrian militias, composed of men fighting on foot and represented by the a˙dàth formations which continued to play an important role well into the twelfth century, was long past.8 We will see that in the early Mamluk period (from 1250 in Egypt; 1260 in Syria), infantry—be they improvised collections of volunteers or conscripts, trained militiamen or even professionals—played only a minimal part in open warfare, although infantry performed a certain role in both siege warfare and garrison duty. Foot soldiers could be referred to by a number of names: muta†awwi'a or mu††awwi'a (volunteers); mujàhidùn ( jihàd fighters); ghuzàt (raiders, the plural of ghàzì);9 rajjàla and mushàt (foot soldiers);10 and, even rijàl ( just ‘men’).11 As alluded to above, the traditional term for militia in Syria, a˙dàth, had disappeared by this time. (translation); Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-sulùk, i, 284) mention the battle but not in the detail of ‘MS. de Rothelin’. 6 E. Sivan, L’Islam et la croisade, Paris, 1968, 133; E. Sivan, ‘The Ideology of jihad in the period of the Crusades’, in Holy War and Martyrdom, Jerusalem, 1975, 115 (in Hebrew). 7 H.A.R. Gibb, ‘The Armies of Saladin’, in H.A.R. Gibb, Studies in the Civilization of Islam, Boston, 1962, 83–84. 8 See EI 2, s.v. ‘A˙dàth’, (C. Cahen); C. Cahen, ‘Mouvements populaires et autonomisme urbain dans l’Asie musulmane du moyen âge’, Arabica 5, 1958, 225–250; 6, 1959, 25–56, 233–265. 9 For these three terms, see EI 2, s.v ‘Muta†awwi'a’ (C.E. Bosworth), according to which the first was gradually replaced by the other two from the eleventh century onwards. 10 For these terms, usually given in the plural, see EI 2, s.v. ‘Óarb—The Mamlùk Period’, (D. Ayalon). One occasionally finds the singular ràjil (foot soldier), often compared to fàris (horse soldier); see below. 11 On this last term, see below.

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Whatever the terminology applied, it is clear that these groups of foot soldiers, some more organised and trained than others, were not composed of members of the elite Mamluk society or affiliated with ‘free’ cavalrymen usually enrolled in the inferior but still important ˙alqa formation.12 Likewise, the auxiliary cavalry forces provided by Bedouin, Turcomen and to a lesser degree Kurds, are a completely separate matter and beyond our concern here, since we are dealing with the non-cavalry component of the early Mamluk army.13 A different but perhaps not unrelated matter is that of the technical professionals, such as naqqàbùn (sappers) and ˙ajjàrùn (masons who cut the stones for the mangonels), which calls for another discussion, perhaps in the framework of a study of siege warfare. The time framework of this article should be clarified. The early Mamluk Sultanate (meaning here 1250 to ca. 1320) has been singled out since this was the time when the institutions of the state (most importantly, the army) developed and crystallised. In this decisive and formative period, the Mamluk state was engaged in a war against two major enemies: first (and up to 1291), the local Franks (and their allies from across the seas), an inheritance from the Ayyubids; and second, the Mongols, a much more dangerous foe (until 1320 when the war was concluded). The military-political elite met these challenges inter alia by enlarging and strengthening its army.14 It is instructive to note, however, that this expansion was almost exclusively of cavalry troops, and that infantry—as mentioned earlier— played only a secondary role, and even that in specific circumstances. I would like to note that the presentation of this paper in the present volume is not a chance occurrence. Donald Richards has made an important contribution to the study of the non-Mamluk element in the Mamluk army, albeit one still organised as cavalry units.15 In

12 For the Mamluk army in general, and the ˙alqa in particular, see D. Ayalon, ‘Studies on the structure of the Mamlùk army’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 15, 1953, 203–228, 448–476; 16, 1954, 57–90. 13 D. Ayalon, ‘The Auxiliary forces of the Mamluk Sultanate’, Der Islam 65, 1988, 13–37. 14 On this, see R. Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks: The Mamluk-Ìlkhànid War, 1260 –1281, Cambridge, 1995, 71–77. 15 D.S. Richards, ‘Mamluk amirs and their families and households’, in T. Philipp and U. Haarmann, eds, The Mamluks in Egyptian Politics and Society, Cambridge, 1998, 32–54.

 ,   

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addition, his many historiographical and textual studies, let alone his recent exemplary edition of Baybars al-Manßùri’s Zubdat al-fikra fì ta"rìkh al-hijra, have helped lay the groundwork for the further study of the early Mamluk Sultanate, not least its military history. It is a special pleasure to contribute this paper to the Festschrift in his honour. * For the early Mamluk period, there is little material about the presence of infantrymen in the main Mamluk armies. One source, Baybars al-Manßùrì (d. 1325), writes that in the summer of 1260, Qu†uz and the Mamluk officers “assembled [every] horseman and foot soldier (al-fàris wa-l-ràjil) among the bedouin (al-'urbàn) and others”. This was at the outset of the campaign which was to conclude with victory over the Mongols at 'Ayn Jàlùt.16 Baybars al-Manßùrì’s information, however, is not confirmed by any other source, contemporary or otherwise, which give detailed information on the composition of the Mamluk army. In addition, there is no evidence that infantrymen took part in the battle. All indications, in fact, lead to the conclusion that 'Ayn Jàlùt was purely a cavalry affair.17 It is possible that the expression al-fàris wa’l-ràjil was merely a literary device, meaning a general call-up, and did not refer to any real infantry units, militia or otherwise; on the other hand, there are signs that the Bedouin of Egypt at times did field foot soldiers along with the horsemen.18 In any event, there is no evidence that Egyptian Bedouin, cavalrymen or otherwise, actually marched into Syria in the summer of 1260, let alone that foot soldiers participated in the battle of 'Ayn Jàlùt. The earliest unequivocal example which I have found of the presence of Mamluk infantry is from 1265, when a Mamluk force was sent from the border fortress of al-Ra˙ba to attack Qarqìsiyà, a fort in Mongol hands on the Khàbùr river. The force included both horsemen and ‘archers’—the latter referred to by the Turkish word

16

Baybars al-Manßùrì, Zubdat al-fikra fì ta"rìkh al-hijra, D.S. Richards, ed., Beirut, 1998, 50. 17 See R. Amitai-Preiss, ‘'Ayn Jàlùt revisited’, Tàrì¢ 2, 1991, 119–150, especially 126–127 for the composition of the Mamluk army. 18 See the case of a bedouin rebellion in Egypt in 651/1254; Maqrìzì, Sulùk, i, 388.

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uqjiyya.19 Since the latter are mentioned separately from the cavalrymen, which in the Mamluk context were invariably horse-archers, it seems logical to assume that they are foot-archers of some type. This assumption is borne out by evidence presented below. Once the fort was taken, it was garrisoned by a mixed force which included rajjàla, foot soldiers of an unspecified type and origin. It is instructive to note that in both these related instances, the infantrymen apparently originated from a border fortress and its environs. Foot-archers appear again in late 1272, when Sultan Baybars had to deal with a Mongol attack on the other important Mamluk fort on the Euphrates, al-Bìra. This fort was actually on the eastern side of the river, in a sense comprising a Mamluk enclave in what could be considered the Ilkhanid frontier region. While the main Mongol army was busy attacking the fort itself, a smaller Mongol force composed of several thousand men took up their position at the river itself, to forestall a Mamluk counter-offensive. They even built a wooden palisade, and planned to fight dismounted with their bows and arrows. Baybars reached the river by mid-December. Before sending his regular troops across the river to engage what appeared to be a fairly large and well-prepared enemy, he sent out a small force to scout. These were foot-archers, called in Arabic al-rajjàla aluqjiyya, literally ‘footmen-archers’. Their actual fate is unspecified, and in any event, they were soon followed by a number of senior amirs and their private units, led by Qalàwùn, who soon came to grips with the enemy and forced them back. Upon learning that the Mongol force at the river had been defeated, the main Mongol army besieging al-Bìra withdrew.20 The exact nature of these uqjiyya troops is unspecified, and as far as I can tell, they are neither found in the centres of the Mamluk state in Egypt nor in Syria. Whatever their origin, they appear to

19 For this campaign, see Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks, 115. For mention of uqjiyya, plural of uqjì (the Arabic transcription of the Turkish oqchi ), see Nàßir al-Dìn Ibn al-Furàt, Ta"rìkh al-duwal wa’l-mulùk, MS. Staatsbibliothek [Vienna] ar. 726, fol. 77b. For this term, see G. Clauson, An Etymological Dictionary of Pre-ThirteenthCentury Turkish, Oxford, 1972, 76 (s.v. oq); G. Doerfer, Türkische und mongolische Elemente in Neupersischen, Wiesbaden, 1963–75, ii, 153–154 (no. 606). 20 For a general description of the battle, see Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks, 129–131; for the use of the term al-rajjàla al-uqjiyya", see Mu˙yì al-Dìn Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir, al-Raw∂ al-zàhir fì sìrat al-Malik al-¸àhir, 'A.-'A. al-Khuway†ir, ed., Riyad, 1396/1976, 406.

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be trained and organised enough to warrant a special name, interestingly enough of Turkish derivation. They appear not to be a ramshackle and ad hoc formation of jihàd- inspired volunteers or conscripts. Whether they could be described as militiamen, let alone professionals, remains unclear. As suggested above, the fact that they are mentioned as distinct from horsemen leads to the conclusion that they were on foot. The phrase al-rajjàla al-uqjiyya would seem to emphasise their fighting on foot; a similar example will be found below. On the frontier with the Mongols it can be expected that the boundaries between civilians and soldiers might be blurred, especially since it appears that actual Mamluks, of the royal kind in particular, were relatively few in the garrisons. The use of the ambivalent term ahl al-qilà' 21 for the defenders of the frontier forts, which can be translated as both garrison and inhabitants of the castles, gives expression to the role played by common people in the defense of the Mamluk Sultanate’s northern borders. Another term for the defenders of the border fortresses is rijàl al-thughùr, ‘people of the frontiers’, who appear in a report of an inspection initiated by Baybars early in his reign (662/1264) on the preparedness of fortifications in Syria.22 This ambiguous expression also hints at the blurred line between civilians and soldiers in the borderlands of the Mamluk Sultanate. The use of infantry in the frontier region continued into the reign of Qalàwùn, who succeeded to the Sultanate in 1279, after pushing aside two of the sons of Baybars, and ruled until 1290. In 682/1283–4, the fort of Qa†ìba/Qa†ìna, on the east bank of the Euphrates in the Mongol-controlled northern Jazìra, was taken by an expeditionary force of infantry (rajjàla) from the Mamluk border fortress of Karkar, which lay across the river. An infantry force from al-Bìra, 'Ayn Tàb and Rawandàn, all Mamluk frontier fortresses of various degrees of importance, was subsequently sent to garrison it.23

21

See, e.g., Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir, Raw∂, 227. Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir, Raw∂, 194; Maqrìzì, Sulùk, i, 510. 23 Nàßir al-Dìn Ibn al-Furàt, Ta"rìkh al-duwal wa-l-mulùk, Q. Zurayk, ed., Beirut, 1942, ii, 273–274; Shihàb al-Dìn al-Nuwayrì, Nihàyat al-arab fì funùn al-adab, Cairo, 1923–97, xxxi, 27–28, 31. For these fortresses, see C. Cahen, La Syrie du nord, Paris, 1940, index. 22

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That the Mamluk equivalent of frontiersmen should have a military role is no surprise. But what of the role of civilians from the urban and rural milieu of the centre of Syria? We finally come across volunteers in the war against the Mongols in a clear manner under Qalàwùn. The situation is the decisive battle to the north of Homs in October 1281. We are fortunate to have a detailed order of battle provided by the contemporary historian Baybars al-Manßùrì, a mamluk of Qalàwùn himself and at the time a middle-ranking officer, who was present at the battle. Besides being an eyewitness, he was poised to collect further reliable information on the battle, to analyse it and to present it in a reasonable manner. In his description of the order of battle, Baybars al-Manßùrì lists the Sultan and the royal mamluks, the various battalion commanders with their units, the non-mamluk ˙alqa formation, the cavalry contingents from the Syrian cities and forts and even the Bedouin and Turcomen.24 So where were the infantry and/or militia? They were busy guarding the baggage in the rear. In fact, we only learn of their location when they are attacked by the victorious Mongol right wing which was advancing after it had vanquished the Mamluk left. The Mongols came upon riff-raff (al-sùqiyya), commoners (al-'awàmm), jihàd-fighting infantry (al-rajjàla al-mujàhidìna) and grooms (ghilmàn) outside the walls of Homs, killing many.25 The ‘glory’ which was earned by these volunteers, lumped together here with hoi polloi, was completely unplanned and unsought. They had no projected mission on the battlefield and to their great misfortune were overtaken by events. Again, we have little idea if these jihàd-fighting foot soldiers were part of an ad-hoc formation or an organised militia. Perhaps the growth of a nascent militia can be discerned in Damascus in 1300, not long after the Mamluk reoccupation of the city. As can be remembered, at the end of 1299, the Mamluks were defeated by the Mongols—for the first and only time—in a major field battle, which took place at Wàdì al-Khaznadàr near Homs.26

24 Baybars al-Manßùrì, Zubda, 196–197; see Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks, 191–193 for more sources and a further discussion. 25 Ibn al-Furàt, Ta"rìkh, vii, 216; cf. Nuwayrì, Nihàyat al-arab, xxxi, 34, who mentions just al-sùqa wa-l-'awàmm. 26 On this battle, see R. Amitai, ‘Whither the Ilkhanid army? Ghazan’s first campaign into Syria (1299–1300)’, in N. Di Cosmo, ed., Warfare in Inner Asian History (500 –1800), Leiden, 2002, 221–264.

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The result of this ignominious defeat was the three-month occupation of Damascus by Ghazan Ilkhan.27 One of the first acts by the reinstalled Mamluk governor was the ordering of military preparations and training of the local population. Weapons were distributed in the market and the townspeople were to practise shooting with bows and arrows. The head judge of the city even forced a group of legal experts—fuqahà"—to take part in the exercises. The governor, Aqqush al-Afram, conducted a general inspection of the recruits, including ashràf (descendants of the Prophet Mu˙ammad), the above-mentioned fuqahà", and the population at large. Commanders were appointed from among the commoners over individual units of townsfolk.28 Whatever the exact intention behind the creation of this formation of local ‘archers’, as far as I can discern they never appeared on the battlefield. There is not a hint of their presence at the decisive battle of Marj al-Íuffar, which took place between the Mamluks and Mongols south of Damascus in 1302. They are not even found in the rear, as was the volunteer infantry at the battle of Homs in 1281. In 1302, only the grooms—ghilmàn—were found behind the main army, and they were given the task of killing any Mamluk soldiers who tried to flee.29 The absence of this newly formed Damascene militia at Marj alÍuffar should not come as a surprise, since a corps of under-trained foot-archers was the last thing the Mamluk commanders needed in what was surely to develop into a cavalry battle of great dimensions. So what was the point of this initiative? It seems to me that it was two-fold. First, if the Mongols were to besiege Damascus, and assuming that the Mamluks themselves were not to abandon the city to its fate as they did in 1299–1300, then the presence of a large number of even minimally trained civilians would be a great advantage in defending the city until the arrival of reinforcements. Second, given the rather embarrassing behaviour of the Mamluks at the battle of Wàdì al-Khaznadàr in 1299 and their shameless abandonment of Syria in its aftermath, it may have been important for the local representative of Mamluk authority, the governor, to show that now

27 See R. Amitai, ‘The Mongol occupation of Damascus in 1300: a study of Mamluk loyalties’, in A. Levanoni and M. Winter, eds, The Mamluks in Egyptian and Syrian Politics and Society, Leiden, forthcoming. 28 Maqrìzì, Sulùk, i, 903. 29 Maqrìzì, Sulùk, i, 933.

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the Mamluks were resolute in defending the country, inter alia by taking the unusual step of arming and training the population. In any event, it appears that little came of this initiative in the framework of the war with the Mongols. As said before, the newly-formed militia did not participate in the battle of Marj al-Íuffar, nor in any other major campaign as far as I know. There is no record of continued training, so it would appear that, whatever military expertise these militiamen obtained, it was soon forgotten. Actually, foot soldiers had appeared in action just before the training sessions mentioned above. In the summer of 699/July 1300, the governor of Damascus, Aqqush al-Afram, led the regular army of the city, contingents from nearby cities, and a large number of ‘foot soldiers and peasants’ (al-rajjàla wa’l-fallà˙ìn) against the people of Jabal (Mount) Kasrawàn, in modern Lebanon. The reasons behind this campaign were the heretical beliefs of these mountain dwellers, who were Druze, and the depredations they had committed on the retreating Mamluk troops earlier in the hijrì year, after the defeat at Wàdì al-Khaznadàr. The ‘Mamluk’ force, accompanied by the famous scholar Ibn Taymiyya, subdued the area with killing, imprisonment and looting.30 Evidently, the treatment had not been thorough enough, since five years later, the same officer returned to the area with inter alia ‘more than 50,000 foot soldiers (al-rajjàla)’. Again the inhabitants were subjected to severe repression, which seems to have brought them into line, at least for the time being.31 The number of 50,000 should of course not be taken literally, but rather as an indication of the large numbers of such ‘soldiers’ involved. We should ask ourselves why the large numbers of foot soldiers, evidently civilians, took part in these campaigns when they were not found in the many battles against the Mongols. The answer, it would seem, lies in the nature of the campaigns, and the goals of the Mamluk leadership in launching them. Besides the clear intention of punishing the mountain people who had caused the Mamluks so much grief in the last days of 1299/beginning of 1300, and preventing the repetition of such actions in the future, it seems that the

30 Abù Bakr b. 'Abd Allàh Ibn al-Dawàdàrì, Kanz al-durar wa-jàmi' al-ghurar, H.R. Roemer, ed., Cairo, 1960, ix, 40; Maqrìzì, Sulùk, i, 902. 31 Ibn al-Dawàdàrì, Kanz, ix, 131; Maqrìzì, Sulùk, ii, 14–15. For these campaigns, see R. Irwin, The Middle East in the Middle Ages: The Early Mamluk Sultanate 1250–1382, London, 1986, 100–102.

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Mamluks were interested in deflecting from themselves the criticisms of the civilian population for their sorry performance at Wàdì alKhaznadàr and their embarrassing retreat. Here, in Lebanon, the Mamluks were waging the holy war against apostates close to home, accompanied by appropriate religious figures and supported by the Muslims at large, who saw the local Mamluk leadership in operation and could take part in the action (including the seizure of booty). In addition, while even well-trained infantry might have gotten in the way during a full-pitched battle with the Mongols, here in the hilly regions of Lebanon, foot soldiers would have proved very useful against an entrenched enemy, also fighting on foot. The archery training which some of the population of Damascus underwent later in 1300 may perhaps be better understood in this light. One group of civilians did occasionally appear on the battlefield with the Mongols. At the battle of Marj al-Íuffar there were Qur"ànreaders (qurrà") who recited appropriate passages from the scripture in order to encourage the soldiers to wage jihàd and to seek martyrdom32—this against the Mongol enemy which ostensibly had recently become Muslim. The source does not comment on this apparent irony. In any case, the presence of such ‘commissars’ with the Mamluk army on the eve or during the fighting itself was not new. For instance, during Baybars’ siege of Arsùf (Appolonia) in 1265, the army was accompanied by “pious people, ascetics, legal scholars and poor sufis” (al-'ubbàd wa’l-zuhhàd wa’l-fuqahà" wa’l-fuqarà") and others. Several important sufis are mentioned by name.33 It is clear that civilians of this ilk were not present in order to fight, but rather to raise the morale of the regular troops and their resolution to fight.34 This, then, is no indication of militiamen or other types of foot soldiers being present.

32

Maqrìzì, Sulùk, i, 933. Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir, Raw∂, 238. It remains a moot point whether individuals from all these categories were present: the importance of rhyme in this list cannot be denied. On this campaign, see my forthcoming article: ‘The Conquest of Arsùf by Baybars: a test-case of Mamluk siege warfare’. Another example where religious figures were present to whip up morale was at the siege of Beaufort (Shaqìf Arnùn) in 1268; see P. Thorau, The Lion of Egypt: Sultan Baybars I and the Near East in the Thirteenth Century, tr. P.M. Holt, London, 1992, 188. 34 It was probably in the sense of ‘morale-boosters’ rather than actual fighters, that religious personalities of an earlier generation were also present on campaign. I thus understand the description of Abù Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad Ibn Qudàma 33

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As far as I am aware, there is only one time in the sixty-year war with the Mongols that civilians were called up from Egypt to fight (discounting the example from 1260 discussed above). Egypt, unlike Syria, had not had a tradition of local militia for hundreds of years, since the first generations of Muslims who served in the standing army.35 The one example in the early Mamluk period is from the summer of 1273, when Sultan Baybars received word of a new Mongol offensive; it turned out that these were unsubstantiated rumours, which never came to fruition. For the time being, however, Baybars had no choice but to treat this report, as every other, as the harbinger of a real danger. According to his biographer, Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir, the Sultan called for a general mobilisation of his army, including the Bedouin of Egypt. In addition, the Sultan allegedly ordered everyone in Egypt with a horse to show up, and that each village was to dispatch men on horse (khayyàla) according to its capability.36 I doubt very much whether Baybars really intended for such ‘horsemen’, as they may charitably be called, to take part in battle. Neither they nor their horses were fit or trained for cavalry warfare of any type whatsoever. Rather, it appears that these horses were destined to be pack animals, and the accompanying humans to be responsible for them. There exists another possibility that this information, which was conveyed by the rather panegyric biographer of the Sultan, was merely exaggeration to emphasise the general nature of the call-up of the regular Egyptian army. What of the presence of militiamen, infantry of any type or just untrained civilians, in the Mamluk armies as they slowly but deliberately whittled down the Crusader presence in Syria? With the exception of professional sappers, engineers and religious propagan(d. 607/1210): “There was not a jihàd that he did not participate in”; Shams al-Dìn al-Dhahabì, Siyar a'làm al-nubalà", Beirut, 1986, xxii, 6 (see also p. 8). Cf. D. Talmon Heller, ‘The Shaykh and the community: popular Hanbalite Islam in 12th–13th century Jabal Nablus and Jabal Qaysùn’, Studia Islamica 79, 1996, 106, n. 13. 35 Humphreys, From Saladin to the Mongols, 5. Egyptians had not played an important role in the army of Egypt since the early ninth century; see H. Kennedy, ‘Egypt as a Province in the Islamic Caliphate, 641–868’, in C. Petry, ed., Cambridge History of Egypt, Cambridge, 1998, i, 80–82. As we have seen, earlier in the thirteenth century, ‘volunteers’ had been called up in Egypt, but it is clear that these were ad hoc formations. In any event, it is important to note that on the whole, non-professional infantry from Egypt, if it existed, did not participate in campaigns in Syria. 36 Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir, Raw∂, 420–421; see Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks, 132.

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dists (see above), there is little evidence for the presence of civilian volunteers during the various sieges conducted against the Frankish cities and forts by Baybars (1260–77).37 Under Qalàwùn, however, they become more noticeable, most prominently in the siege of Tripoli in 1289, when a large number of volunteers (khalq kathìr min almuta†awwi'a) from Damascus joined the army, including the Óanbalì judge and a group of maqàdisa, i.e. people originally from Palestine.38 This tradition was continued under Qalàwùn’s successor, his son alAshraf Khalìl, at the siege of Acre in 1291. When the order reached Damascus that the Sultan was launching an attack against the Frankish capital, there was a call for warriors—ghuzàt—in the mosques of Damascus. According to the contemporary Syrian chronicler alYùnìnì (d. 1326), it was claimed that the number of volunteers who participated in the siege was greater than the regular soldiers.39 This is most probably an exaggeration, but it does give us a sense of the magnitude of civilian participation. It is reported that the whole city turned out to help move the mangonels which had to be dispatched. This required several days of hard work by inter alia legal experts, teachers, religious scholars and the pious.40 These, of course, are overlapping categories. As for the actual campaign itself, it is reported by al-'Aynì, a highly reliable fifteenth-century writer, that the Sultan was considering answering the call of the besieged Franks for a surrender on terms. Thereupon, there was a great shout from the ‘rabble, vagabonds, grooms and camel drivers’ (al-sùqa wa’l-˙aràfìsh wa’l-ghilmàn wa’l-jammàlìn) who accompanied the army, calling on the Sultan to continue the fight against the cursed enemy.41 This seems to have again done 37 On these sieges, see Thorau, The Lion of Egypt, 160–161, 168–171, 188–189, 190–192. 38 Abù al-Fidà" 'Abd Allàh Ibn Kathìr, al-Bidàya wa’l-nihàya fìta"rìkh, rpt., Beirut, 1977, xiii, 313. The term maqàdisa probably refers to the descendants of the Óanbalìs who fled from the region of Nablus to Damascus in the mid-twelfth century. See E. Sivan, ‘Refugiés syro-palestiniens au temps des croisades’, Revue des études islamiques 35, 1967, 138–140 (on the refugees), 144 (for this particular incident). 39 Qu†b al-Dìn al-Yùnìnì, Dhayl mir"at al-zamàn fì ta"rìkh al-a'yàn, MS. Ahmet III (Topkapi, Istanbul) 2903/E.3, fol. 2a; cited in D.P. Little, ‘The Fall of 'Akkà in 690/1291: the Muslim version’, in M. Sharon, ed., Studies in Islamic History and Civilization in Honour of Professor David Ayalon, Jerusalem and Leiden, 1986, 169. 40 Little, ‘The Fall of 'Akkà’, 169; J. Sauvaget, La chronique de Damas d’al-Jazari (Années 689–698 H.), Paris, 1949, 4; Ibn Kathìr, Bidàya, xiii, 320. 41 Badr al-Dìn al-'Aynì, 'Iqd al-jumàn fì ta"rìkh ahl al-zamàn, Cairo, 1987–92, iii, 61; cited in Little, ‘The Fall of 'Akkà’, 174.

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the trick, and the siege was continued until victory. It may be noted that these are not exactly militiamen or even volunteers, but basically camp-followers, some albeit of an official capacity. This story reminds us of the role played by the civilians, camp-followers and common soldiers on the Frankish side during the First Crusade, after the taking of Antioch in 1098, in convincing the noblemen to continue the march to Jerusalem.42 Earlier, both Baybars and Qalàwùn had employed foot soldiers of an evidently more professional nature on the Crusader front. In 1275, the former sent some amirs from Aleppo together with a group of infantry (rajjàla) to Qußayr, a Frankish town some 15km south-east of Antioch.43 Qalàwùn, for his part, having conquered the fort of Marqab (Margat) in northern Syria from the Franks in 1285, ordered the following garrison to be set up: 1,000 men on foot (ràjil ) [comprised] of archers (uqjiyya), arbalesters ( jarkhiyya) and fighters (muqàtila); 400 craftsmen (arbàb al-ßinà'a), some †ablkhàna amirs, and a group numbering 150 from the Ba˙riyya, Íàli˙iyya and Manßùriyya.44 This is further proof that the alreadymentioned uqjiyya were foot soldiers and not cavalrymen. One other realm in which we find foot soldiers in the early Mamluk period is in intra-Mamluk warfare, as in the struggle between Qalàwùn and Sunqur al-Ashqar, governor of Damascus and would-be ruler of Syria, in 679/1280. When the latter sent out a call for support, he received reinforcements from Aleppo, Hama and many infantrymen (rajjàla kathìra) from the hills of Baalbek. Sunqur ‘employed men’ (rijàl), distributed money among them, and gathered a large number.45 It seems that ‘men’ is used in the sense of foot soldiers, as opposed

42

Runciman, A History of the Crusades, i, 258–260. Ibn al-Furàt, Ta"rìkh, vii, 40–41; cf. the reading in Ayyùbids, Mamluks and Crusaders. Selections from the Tàrìkh al-Duwal wa’l-Mulùk of Ibn al-Furàt, U. and M.C. Lyons, trs, with introduction and notes by J.S.C. Riley-Smith, Cambridge, 1971, i, 210: rijàlihi. For the background of this campaign, see R. Amitai-Preiss, ‘Mamluk perceptions of the Mongol-Frankish rapprochement’, Mediterranean Historical Review 7, 1992, 59. 44 Mu˙yì al-Dìn b. 'Abd al-¸àhir, Tashrìf al-ayyàm wa’l-'ußùr fì sìrat al-malik al-manßùr, M. Kàmil, ed., Cairo, 1961, 80; cf. the summary of this passage in L. Northrup, From Slave to Sultan: The Career of al-Manßùr Qalàwùn and the Consolidation of Mamluk Rule in Egypt and Syria (678–689 AH/1279–1290 AD), Wiesbaden, 1998, 132. For jarkh, see R. Dozy, Supplément aux dictionnaires arabes, Leiden, 1881, 182b. For †ablkhàna amirs (amirs commanding 40 personal mamluks), see Ayalon, ‘Studies on the structure of the Mamlùk Army’, pt. 2, 469–470. For the three Mamluk regiments mentioned, see Northrup, index. 45 Ibn al-Furàt, Ta"rìkh, vii, 169. 43

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to ajnàd (soldiers),46 applied mainly to horse soldiers, let alone the more explicit fursàn (cavalrymen).47 Elsewhere, there is mention of foot soldiers from Lebanon, specifically from the semi-nomadic or mountain-dwelling tribesmen known as al-'ushràn, from the regions of Sidon and Beirut, as well as the Biqà' area (where Baalbek is located). Some 500 men were involved in the campaign in 1343 against a Mamluk prince holed-up in Karak.48 It may be noted that here again foot soldiers from Lebanon are found in the context of intra-Mamluk rivalry. Evidently, the hill dwellers of this region had a tradition of military service, or rather, the ability to field an infantry. In 1306, it is noted that the Kasrawàn (mentioned above) could field an army of 4,000 infantry.49 *

46 Ayalon, ‘Studies on the structure of the Mamlùk Army’, pt. 2, 451–459, shows that the term ajnàd was generally applied to the troops of the amirs (commanders) and of the non-Mamluk cavalry units known as the ˙alqa. But he also mentions that the latter were also known as rijàl al-˙alqa, so that the statement the rijàl refers to infantry cannot be stated with complete certitude. 47 I thus understand that rijàl al-Íubayba (‘the men of al-Íubayba’) refers to the non-Mamluk garrison of the fort; 'Aynì, 'Iqd, ii, 9 (s.a. 665/1266–7). 48 Íàli˙ b. Ya˙yà, Kitàb ta"rìkh Bayrùt, 2nd edn, L. Shaykhù (Cheikho), ed., Beirut, 1927, 105. This evidence was first noticed by A.N. Poliak, ‘The Demographic evolution of the Middle East’, in Palestine and the Middle East 10/5, May 1938, 201; see the comments and corrections in D. Ayalon, ‘Regarding population estimates in the countries of medieval Islam’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 27, 1985, 2, 13–16. 49 Íàli˙ b. Ya˙yà, Ta"rìkh Bayrùt, 100. There is an illustration of an “Ashir Syrian auxiliary, c. 1325” in Nicolle, The Mamluks, pl. C. The figure portrayed seems extremely well attired and equipped for a tribesman from Syria, and I must admit that the basis for this reconstruction is unclear. This latter problem also holds for the other two figures portrayed: a “Jandar infantryman, c. 1300” and a “Harfush auxiliary, c. 1325”. Why the latter should be carrying a composite bow is beyond me. The jandariyya may have been infantrymen, but little is known of them: Gibb (‘The Army of Saladin’, 83–84) writes that at the time of Saladin they may have been the officers in charge of siege operations. Frankly, I am not convinced of the authenticity of the reconstructions by the author and illustrator. As sources, the author mentions figures from more-or-less contemporary books and metal-work, but only one is reproduced in the book, which is used as a basis for all three figures mentioned above: this is a “figure on an inlaid bronze basin dating from the late 13th century”, who “still carries the long sabre of a cavalryman but, in addition to a small shield, has the leg bindings of a foot soldier rather than a dismounted horseman” (Nicolle, The Mamluks, 35, from Victoria and Albert Museum, inv. 740–1898). Actually, a hunting scene is portrayed, and what we are seeing is probably a dismounted Mamluk equipped accordingly. I have no reason to assume that any of the other sources mentioned are any more helpful.

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How can the relatively marginal role of infantrymen, be they volunteers, militiamen or professionals, be explained? One could suggest that this is only a continuation of a previous trend, outlined at the beginning of this article. As has been noted by Gibb for the early Ayyubid period and before, the arrival of Turkish mounted archers, be they Mamluks or Turcomen, had already reduced the role of the local Syrian militias in the military and political life of the country.50 The role of cavalry was becoming increasingly decisive, and thus infantry played only a minor part in the warfare between the Franks and Muslims throughout the Ayyubid period. Since there were no pitched battles in the open field between the Franks and the Mamluks, it is impossible to say if Muslim infantry of any kind would have been present and have contributed to the fighting after 1260. We have seen some evidence for the presence of volunteer foot soldiers in the sieges against Frankish cities, but only at a late stage, under Qalàwùn and al-Ashraf Khalìl. Baybars, on the other hand, apparently could not be bothered with them, certainly in his lightninglike attacks on certain cities, such as Caesarea in 1265. Even in long, drawn-out sieges, such as at Arsùf in the same year, there is no noticeable volunteer infantry force present; the Sultan may well have thought they would only get in the way. Civilians were present only as religious morale-boosters or as technicians. The apparent trend was surely accelerated by the arrival in the Islamic Near East of the Mongols, whose relatively enormous armies were based primarily on large numbers of light mounted archers.51 In order to deal effectively with this challenge, the armies of the Mamluk sultans grew in size. These were composed almost exclusively of cavalry, also wielding bow and arrow, but on the whole with bigger horses and better armoured.52 Infantry, even when it was well-trained, became irrelevant in the mobile battles which characterised most of the Mamluk-Mongol war. The one exception was the Mamluk forces in the frontier fortresses, where skills other than

50

Gibb, ‘The Armies of Saladin’, 83. See the comments on this matter in Amitai, ‘Whither the Ilkhanid army?’, 223, 255. 52 On the expansion of the Mamluk army in the early years of the Sultanate, see Amitai-Preiss, Mongols and Mamluks, 71–73. On Mamluk horses and equipment, see ibid., 214–219; J.M. Smith, Jr., ‘'Ayn Jàlùt: Mamlùk Success or Mongol Failure?’, Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 44, 1984, 330–336. 51

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horsemanship were more in demand, and there was ample opportunity for civilians to gain practical military experience. While I believe that this explanation makes perfect sense, an additional reason also presents itself. The Mamluks as a class had little interest—political, social or economic—in encouraging indigenous elements to take on a significant military role. The Mamluk elite saw their right to rule over a vast civilian population as being derived from their unique ability to defend this population against both the Mongols and the Franks.53 By sharing the military burden with civilian elements, they might have been compelled to share even a small part of their political control and the wealth that went with it. The Mamluks, centred in Cairo and the important cities of Syria, brooked little indigenous autonomy, be it political or military (and even economic), in these cities. Only occasionally, in the waning days of the war with the Franks or in a high profile, but basically easy jihàd against local ‘infidels’, did the Mamluks relent and let the ‘masses’ join them at the front. Towards the end of their regime, the Mamluks adopted a more positive attitude towards Syrian infantrymen, particularly militiamen from mountainous regions in Palestine, Lebanon and elsewhere in Syria.54 It is possible that this change of attitude derived from problems of procuring sufficient, regular, Mamluk manpower.55 It may be that the nature of warfare itself was changing, although whether this is tied to the incipient use of handguns remains to be seen. Only future research will determine when and how this transition came about, and what its impact was on the ability of the Mamluk Sultanate in the battlefield.

53 The subject of how the Mamluks saw themselves and projected this to their subjects is still in its infancy. See, however, R.S. Humphreys, ‘The Expressive intent of the Mamluk architecture of Cairo: a preliminary essay’, Studia Islamica 35, 1972, 69–119; I. Lapidus, Muslim Cities in the Later Middle Ages, Cambridge MA, 1967, chapter 1; R. Kruk, ‘History and apocalypse: Ibn al-Nafis’s justification of Mamluk rule’, Der Islam 72, 1995, 324–337. 54 EI 2, s.v. ‘Óarb’ (D. Ayalon); C. Petry, Protectors or Praetorians: The Last Mamluk Sultans and Egypt’s Waning as a Great Power, Albany, 1994, 37; S. Har-el, The Struggle for Domination in the Middle East: The Ottoman Mamluk War, 1485–1491, Leiden, 1995, 187. 55 Mamluk armies of the Circassian period (1382–1517) were certainly smaller than in the Qipchaq period (1250–1382); Ayalon, ‘Studies on the structure of the Mamlùk Army’, pt. 1, 222–228.


TRIBAL FEUDING AND MAMLUK FACTIONS IN MEDIEVAL SYRIA Robert Irwin (London)

According to Ibn Khaldùn’s quasi-philosophical treatise on history, the Muqaddima: “it is easy to establish a dynasty in lands that are free from group feeling. Government there will be a tranquil affair, because seditions and rebellions are few, and the dynasty there does not need much group feeling ('aßabiyya). This is the case in contemporary Egypt and Syria. They are [now] free from tribes and group feelings; indeed one would never suspect that Syria had once been a mine of them, as we have [ just] stated. Royal authority in Egypt is most peaceful and firmly rooted, because Egypt has few . . . tribal groups . . .”1 Ernest Gellner, in an attempt to explain how it was that the Mamluks and Ottomans were exceptional in Ibn Khaldùn’s more general scheme of things (in which Muslim government normally depends upon the support of a tribal army and of Muslim clerics), quoted Ibn Khaldùn’s affirmation of Egypt’s and Syria’s tranquil, non-tribal condition.2 However, Gellner, and Ibn Khaldùn before him, may have been trying to find an explanation for an anomaly that was not there, for there are limits, as we shall see, to the reliability of the historian who has been described as ‘Islam’s greatest sociologist’ and Ibn Khaldùn’s evocation of tranquil lands untroubled by tribal strife is not supported by the contemporary historical record. Although he wrote the main draft of the Muqaddima in what is now western Algeria in 779/1377, it is clear that he continued to add to it and revise it in Egypt and he was still working on the text as late as 804/1401–2.3 Ibn Khaldùn arrived in Egypt in 1382 and died there in 1406. In 1400–1 he spent four months in Syria. He should therefore have been aware that what he had written about the absence of tribal 1 Ibn Khaldùn, Muqaddima, F. Rosenthal, ed. and tr., 2nd edn., London, 1967, i, 334. 2 E. Gellner Muslim Society, Cambridge, 1981, 74. 3 F. Rosenthal, introduction to the Muqaddima, i, cvi–cvii.

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group feelings in these lands was not true. The falsehood seems rather to have been an aspect of a more generalised desire to flatter his Mamluk hosts, for he was also fulsome in his praise of Cairo and of the Mamluk system.4 In fact, Ibn Khaldùn’s sojourn in the Mamluk lands coincided with famine, three plague epidemics, a foreign invasion (by Timur), and, as we shall see, prolonged factional fighting in which feuding tribal groupings played a crucial role. Moreover, as far as Upper Egypt was concerned, Arab tribesmen, rather than Mamluks, controlled the region. Ibn Khaldùn was in Egypt during the first reign of the Circassian Sultan al-¸àhir Barqùq (784/1382–791/1389), the second reign of the puppet Qalàwùnid Sultan Óajjì II (791/1389–792/1390), the second reign of Barqùq (792/1390–801/1399) and the first reign of Barqùq’s son al-Nàßir Faraj (801/1399–808/1405). Not one of these rulers was ever securely in control of his Sultanate. Although Ibn Khaldùn’s originality and intelligence as a theorist are inspiring, he seems less satisfactory as a workaday chronicler of events in his own time. Contemporary European travellers in Egypt presented a much bleaker picture of the situation in the Mamluk Sultanate in the late fourteenth century and the opening years of the fifteenth century. The Florentine pilgrim Frescobaldi who was in Egypt in 1384 described the Bedouin as exacting taxes on the towns, “like the [condottieri] companies” in Italy (effectively collecting protection money then).5 As we shall see below, Bertrando de Mignanelli, a resident of Damascus, provides a lot of information about the role of Syrian Arabs fighting against Barqùq. He also waxed eloquent about how much Syria had suffered from the civil war that was a consequence of Barqùq’s struggle to take power once more after his escape from Karak in 791/1389. The Cretan, Emmanuel Piloti, writing c. 1420, as well as describing Faraj’s difficulties in retaining his throne, also stressed the power of the Arabs in Egypt and their contempt for the Mamluks. They frequently revolted against the Sultan and Mamluk punitive expeditions were only occasionally 4 For praise of Cairo, see W.J. Fischel, Ibn Khaldun in Egypt: His Public Functions and His Historical Research (1382–1406), Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1967, 18–19. For praise of the Mamluk system see Ibn Khaldùn, Kitàb al-'Ibar, Cairo, 1867, v, 369–372; cf. D. Ayalon, ‘Mamlùkiyyàt’ (B), Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam, 2, 1980, 340–349. 5 Lionardo di Nicolo Frescobaldi, Visit to the Holy Places, B. Bagatti, ed. and tr., Jerusalem, 1948, 56.

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effective against them. Alexandria in particular was at the mercy of the Arabs because of their control of the supply routes to the city.6 When he compared the incessant feuding at all levels of society to the long-running struggle of Guelfs and Ghibellines, Piloti was perhaps thinking of the centuries old feud between tribes claiming descent from Qays and Yaman: “Et pourtant les trois generations desucdites [i.e. Arabs, bedouin, and purchased slaves] sont toujours en division comme nous disons ghelfes et ghebellins”.7 When Ibn Khaldùn wrote of Syria as having “once” been “a mine” of tribal and group feelings, it is obvious that he was referring to Umayyad times and the politico-military feuding between Arab tribes who belonged to the factions of Qays and Yaman. There is no need here to dwell on the semi-legendary origins and early history of Qays-Yaman feuding. There is an extensive scholarly literature on the origins of the Qays and Yaman moieties and on the role of Qays and Yaman tribal alignments in Umayyad politics.8 There was a long-standing belief among the Arabs that they descended from two ancestors. The quasi-fictitious genealogy by which every Arab tribesman was assigned a North Arabian (Qaysì) or a South Arabian (Yamanì, or Kalbì) origin was of no great political or military importance until Umayyad times, when it provided a kind of theoretical underpinning to tribal struggle for power in Syria. It seems that, to a large degree, the Umayyad caliphs ruled by distributing patronage between the two rival factions. The political importance of the moieties declined sharply after the downfall of the Umayyad caliphs and the removal of the centre of government from Syria to Iraq. However, in the centuries that followed, Qays versus Yaman alignments continued to provide an organising principle for all sorts of feuds within or between tribes, clans and neighbourhoods, not just in Syria, but more generally throughout the Arab world. Indeed, rivalry between Qays and Yaman persisted into the twentieth century. It was not necessary to be a nomadic Arab in order to belong

6 E. Piloti, Traité . . . sur le Passage en Terre Sainte, Louvain, 1958, P.-H. Dopp, ed., 56–59. 7 Piloti, Traité, 33. 8 See for example, J. Wellhausen, Das arabische Reich und sein Sturz, Berlin, 1902; EI 2, s.v. ‘ays-'Aylàn’ (W.M. Watt); M.A. Shaban, Islamic History, a New Interpretation, i, Cambridge, 1971, 120–123; P. Crone, Slaves on Horses: The Evolution of the Islamic Polity, Cambridge, 1980, 34–35, 42–45; R. Patai, Golden River to Golden Road, 3rd edition, Philadelphia, 1969, 183–184.

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to one or other of the moieties. Settled clans within towns and villages often declared for Qays or Yaman. It was not even necessary to be an Arab and, for example, there were Qaysì and Yamanì factions among the Kurds and Berbers. The entirely notional lineages of Qays and Yaman provided a social map of whom it was appropriate to raid and feud with. In general, “the-enemy-of-my-enemyis-my-friend” principle applied. Qaysìs carried red banners, while the Yamanì colour was white. Although Qays-Yaman feuding in the Umayyad period has attracted much discussion, as has, to a lesser extent, the persistence of the feud in the Ottoman period, the importance of Qays and Yaman loyalties in the Mamluk period has been largely neglected. The Mamluk period was notoriously a period in which succession to the Sultanate (and other matters) was settled by factional warfare. However, Arabic historians writing in the Mamluk period usually tend to give the impression that this factional strife took place more or less between members of the military elite—that is to say, between Turkish or Circassian emirs and mamlùks. Modern historians have tended to follow their lead and discuss Mamluk strife in these terms. (I have been guilty of doing so myself.)9 Often this may be correct and there were many occasions when the Mamluk elite sorted out its differences without recourse to the assistance of tribesmen or of urban mobs. As Arnold von Harff, who visited Egypt at the end of the fifteenth century, wrote of the Mamluk factional strife in Cairo at that time, “the war did not concern the country, nor the country war, only the Mamlukes fought between themselves and those of their party”.10 However, there were occasions, as we shall see, when non-mamlùks joined in the factional fighting of the Mamluk elite and, when they did so, they tended to describe themselves as Qaysìs or Yamanìs. Not only did nomadic Arabs align themselves in this manner, but non-nomadic Arabs and even non-Arab tribes and groupings also tended to describe themselves as belonging to these ancient factions. In times of Mamluk weakness and prolonged civil war the 'urbàn and the 'ushràn played a particularly important part in the strife. It is

9 R. Irwin, The Middle East in the Middle Ages: The Early Mamluk Sultanate 1250–1382, Beckenham, Kent, 1986; Irwin, ‘Factions in Medieval Egypt’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1986, 228–246. 10 Arnold von Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Malcolm Letts, tr., Hakluyt Society, second series, xciv, London, 1946, 104.

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necessary to clarify what is meant by those two terms. In the Mamluk period, 'arab, plural 'urbàn, tended to be used to describe the fully nomadic Arabs of the desert. Prominent tribes included the Banù Muhanna" of Fa∂l, the paramount tribe in the Syrian desert to the north and west of Damascus. In Upper Egypt, the Banù Hilàl were similarly dominant. The meaning of 'ashìr, or 'ushràn (both forms are plural), is more problematic. Etienne Quatremère was the first to address the problem. In a note to his translation of Maqrìzì’s Kitàb al-Sulùk, he stated that 'ashìr was used to refer to members of a tribe in general, and of an Arab tribe par excellence. He cited Maqrìzì to the effect that the 'ashìr of Syria are divided into the two groups, Qays and Yaman. He also cited Ibn 'Abd al-¸àhir’s life of Qalàwùn, (the Tashrìf, f. 54), to the effect that the hillsmen ( jabaliyyùn) of Syria are known as al'ashìr and he noted that Ibn Wàßil used 'ashìr to refer also to Kurds.11 However, when Quatremère returned to the question later in his annotations to the Kitàb al-Sulùk, he tentatively identified the 'ushràn as Druzes.12 According to A.N. Poliak, 'ashìr and 'ushràn were used to designate the great agricultural tribes of Syria.13 Elsewhere, Poliak (who so often got things wrong), had suggested that “Qays-Yaman rivalry existed under the Mamluks only among the peasants, whereas the nomads were considered as Yamanìs”.14 According to William Popper, it refers mainly to “clansmen” living in the highlands of Íafad, Wàdì al-Taim and the South Lebanon mountains and valleys, and he noted that their clans sometimes divided on Qays and Kalb lines. Some historians, including Popper, have also thought that the term refers mainly or exclusively to the Druze (and Popper surely was right to note that Mamluk historians never refer to members of Druze clans as Druzes).15 However, this would not cover the frequent references to 'ushràn in Palestine, as far south as Gaza. For example, in 680/1281–82, early on in the Sultanate of al-Manßùr 11 E. Quatremère, Histoire des Sultans Mamlouks de l’Égypte, Paris, 1845, i, pt. 1, 186–187, n. 65. 12 Quatremère, Histoire, ii, pt. 2, 273–274. 13 A.N. Poliak, ‘Les révoltes populaires en Égypte à l’époque des Mameloukes et leurs causes économiques’, Revue des Études Islamiques, 8, 1934, 264. 14 A.N. Poliak, Feudalism in Egypt, Syria, Palestine and the Lebanon, 1250–1900, London, 1939, 63n. 15 W. Popper, Egypt and Syria under the Circassian Sultans; 1382–1468 AD: Systematic Notes to Ibn Taghrìbirdì’s Chronicles of Egypt, Berkeley, 1957, University of California Publications in Semitic Philology, xvi, 16–17.

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Qalàwùn, the local 'ushràn rebelled and plundered Gaza, and a little later Nablus was similarly plundered by 'ushràn.16 In general 'ashìr and 'ushràn seem to have been used to describe semi-nomadic or sedentarised tribal groups, in contradistinction to more purely nomadic tribes, such as the Banù Fa∂l. During the Mamluk period, two developments may have contributed to the growth of tribal power and tribalist sentiment in both the countryside and the towns. First, as far as the countryside is concerned, Jean-Claude Garcin has suggested that as the Sultanate became more dependent on the spice trade for its revenues, so also it became more vulnerable to demands for protection money from the Bedouin tribes who dominated the overland routes for the spice trade and for goods coming in from Sudan.17 In the early fourteenth century, Bertrando de Mignanelli (on whom more shortly) remarked that Nu'ayr, the Emir of the dominant tribe in the Syrian desert, used to receive “a large stipend from the Sultan to keep the desert safe, on account of the traders who brought spices to Damascus and from whom Nu'ayr demanded large tributes”.18 Ibn Khaldùn also reported that the Fa∂l tribe received iq†à's and was given leadership over all the nomadic Arabs in return for protecting the caravans that travelled between Syria and Iraq.19 Second, as far as the towns were concerned, it seems that in the later years of the Mamluk Sultanate, particularly after the onset of the Black Death in 748/1347, there was a flight from agricultural hinterland into the cities. The depredations of the increasingly powerful Bedouin, as well as the exactions of Mamluk muq†à's, encouraged the migration of settled nomads and peasants into the cities. The Mamluk Sultans had to put down several Arab revolts in the thirteenth and early fourteenth century (and, for example, the Bedouin attack on Gaza and Nablus in 680/1281–82 has already been mentioned).20 Qays-Yaman feuding does not seem to have been an impor16

Ibn al-Furàt, Tàrìkh al-duwal wa al-mulùk, vii, Beirut, 1942, 212, 225–226. J.-C. Garcin, ‘Note sur les rapports entre bédouins et fellahs à l’époque Mamluke’, Annales Islamologiques, 14, 1978, 153. 18 W.J. Fischel, ‘Ascensus Baroch, A Latin Biography of the Mamluk Sultan Barqùq of Egypt (D. 1399) Written by Bertrando de Mignanelli in 1416’, Arabica, 6, 1959, 153. 19 Ibn Khaldùn, 'Ibar, vi, 6. 20 On conflicts between Mamluks and Arabs, see Poliak, ‘Les révoltes populaires’, 251–273; J.-C. Garcin, Un centre Musulman de la Haute-Egypte Médiévale: Qus, Paris, 1976. 17

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tant factor in the tribal disturbances in the early Mamluk period, nor do Arab tribesmen seem to have played a significant role in Mamluk factional strife. However, the perception that tribes and Qays-Yaman loyalties only become important in the last decades of the fourteenth century may be an optical illusion and possibly the product of the fact that Egyptian court historians, like Ibn 'Abd al¸àhir, or Syrian religious scholars, like al-Yùnìnì, had little knowledge of or interest in Arab tribal affairs. If, however, one wishes to study the part played by Arab and other tribes in the Mamluk factional strife and particularly the fighting that took place in Syria in the 1390s, then one finds oneself exceptionally well served by historians based in Syria who reported on the prolonged civil war in great detail. Three sources in particular deserve mention here. Little is known about Ibn Íaßrà, except that he appears to have belonged to a scholarly family and that he lived in Damascus in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. So he was an eyewitness to the events he reported on in such detail in his local chronicle, al-Durra al-mudì"a fì al-dawla al-¸ahiriyya. The chronicle is unusual in that it is peppered with improving anecdotes, moral fables and proverbs. Faced with recounting the calamities that befell Damascus in the 1390s, Ibn Íaßrà seems to have found it easy to digress. The surviving manuscript of his chronicle runs from 786 to 799 (1384–99).21 More is known about Taqì al-Dìn b. Qà∂ì Shuhba (779/1377–851/ 1448), as his student al-Sakhàwì wrote a detailed biography of him. Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba belonged to a distinguished family of religious scholars in Damascus. He taught in various madrasas and rose eventually to become chief qà∂ì. His chronicle (to which he does not seem to have given a title) covers, among other things, the war in Syria between Barqùq and Min†àsh in immense detail.22 The third source was also a resident of Damascus and an eyewitness of many of the events he reported on. Bertrando de Mignanelli was born in Siena in 1370, but spent much of his adult life as a merchant trading in Damascus. On his return to Italy in 1416, he produced a Latin life of Barqùq, as well as a life of Timur, that actually concentrated heavily on Timur’s invasion of Syria in 1400–01. 21 Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad ibn Íaßrà, A Chronicle of Damascus 1389 –1397, W. Brinner, ed. and tr., Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1963, 2 vols. 22 Tàrìkh Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, i, Damascus, 1977; cf. EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn à∂ì Shuhba’ ( J. Schacht).

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Bertrando de Mignanelli’s knowledge of Arabic coupled with his outsider’s perspective makes him an exceptionally valuable source. He knew personally both the Sultan Barqùq and the Sultan’s great enemy, the Arab Emir Nu'ayr.23 The ups and downs of the factional strife that was such a salient part of Barqùq’s attempt to take control of the Sultan and the attempts of others to prevent him can be briefly summarised here. In 784/1382 the Circassian Mamluk Emir Barqùq usurped the Sultanate, dethroning the Qalàwùnid Sultan al-Íàli˙ Óajjì in order to do so. In 789/1391 Min†àsh, the governor of Malatya, rebelled against al-¸àhir Barqùq. Two years later Min†àsh’s revolt was joined by Yalbughà al-Nàßirì, the nà"ib of Aleppo, as well as the Arab Emir Nu'ayr b. Hayyar b. Muhanna". Min†àsh and Yalbughà, having advanced on Cairo, put Óajjì II back on the throne (with the new regnal title, al-Manßùr). The defeated Barqùq was sent to prison in Karak of Moab. At first Yalbughà and Min†àsh shared power, but it was inevitable that they should fall out eventually and there was street fighting in Cairo that ended with the triumph of Min†àsh (something of a populist demagogue) and the imprisonment of Yalbughà. Later that year Min†àsh ordered the killing of Barqùq in prison, but locals set him free. Barqùq then managed to recruit a small army of supporters in the Karak. When he advanced against Damascus, Kamishbughà, the nà"ib of Aleppo declared for Barqùq and various other emirs and mamlùks rallied to Barqùq’s cause. Barqùq proceeded to besiege Damascus and then to defeat Min†àsh at the Battle of Shaq˙ab in Mu˙arram 792/January 1390. In the course of this battle, Óajjì, Min†àsh’s puppet sultan was captured. Later in the year Barqùq returned to Cairo where he resumed the Sultanate. Min†àsh meanwhile briefly occupied Damascus, before being driven out by his former ally Yalbughà al-Nàßirì, whom Barqùq had released from prison. Min†àsh continued to fight on in Syria until Rama∂àn 795/July 1393 when he was captured and executed.24 The end of the civil war did not mean that Barqùq and his supporters could rest on their bloodily-won laurels. Syria remained a turbulent place

23 W.J. Fischel, ‘Ascensus Baroch’, 57–74 and 152–172; Fischel, ‘A New Latin Source on Tamerlane’s Conquest of Damascus (1400/1401) (B. de Mignanelli’s Vita Tamerlani 1416)’, Oriens 9, 1956, 201–232. 24 On these events, see EI 2, s.v. ‘Bar˚ù˚’ (G. Wiet); P.M. Holt, The Age of the Crusades: The Near East from the Eleventh Century to 1517, Harlow, Essex, 1986, 128–129.

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and prone to tribal disturbances. In 795/1392–93 there was a revolt of the Bedouins of Jabal Druze and a little later the governor of Karak was killed by local Bedouin after he attempted to secure the return of stolen livestock.25 Moreover, Nu'ayr, who was never more than temporarily and partially reconciled with Barqùq, outlived the Sultan and continued to give trouble to his successor until he was captured and executed in 809/1406. If one reads Ibn Khaldùn’s account of all this in his chronicle, the 'Ibar, one gets the impression that the struggle between Barqùq and Min†àsh in the early 1390s was almost exclusively an elite struggle fought out between members of the Mamluk military caste.26 However, Ibn Khaldùn’s account of these events, which is disappointingly narrowly focused and uninterpretative, is given the lie by the much fuller narratives of Ibn Íaßrà, Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba and Bertrando de Mignanelli. What distinguished this conflict from most other Mamluk factional conflicts was the fact that both sides depended heavily on the support of tribes and neighbourhood urban factions. Barqùq was backed by the 'ushràn, Turkomans and some Arab tribes, while Min†àsh was similarly backed by Turkomans and 'ushràn, but most importantly he was supported by Nu'ayr of Muhanna", which was the leading branch of the paramount Syrian tribe of Fa∂l. The Fa∂l were a south Arabian and therefore Yamanì tribe. The much smaller south Arabian tribe of Mirà, led by 'Anqa b. Sha†ì, also supported Min†àsh.27 In general, the Qaysìs declared for Barqùq, while the Yamanìs were behind Min†àsh and his partners.28 25

Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Tàrìkh, 469, 478. Ibn Khaldùn, 'Ibar, v, 482–505. 27 On the lineages of these tribes, see Popper, Systematic Notes, 88, 5–7. 28 I.M. Lapidus, Muslim Cities in the Later Middle Ages, Cambridge, Mass., 1967, in discussing the fighting in Damascus, gets the matter confused. His description of the factional alignments starting on page 78 is in direct contradiction with that given on page 165. “Quarters of the city called Óàrat al-Kilàb supported the Sultan while defenders of Min†àsh were called Qays, names going back to the ancient struggles of Arabian bedouin confederations which had plagued the Umayyad dynasty in the first century of the Arab conquests and disrupted the history of Syria ever since.” However, while it is true that inhabitants of the Óàrat Kilàb supported Barqùq, the Banù Kilàb should not be confused with the Kalbì or Yamanì moiety, for the Banù Kilàb, were, as Brinner notes, “a tribe of North Arabs, related to Qays, therefore on the side of the Sultan” (Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 53n; cf. i, 74; ii, 49). Lapidus later implicitly corrected himself (Muslim Cities, 165) when he describes Barqùq as being supported by Qays and opposed by Kalb. But it should be noted that chroniclers in the Mamluk period tended to use the term ‘Yaman’, rather than ‘Kalb’. 26

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Bertrando de Mignanelli particularly stressed the political and military power of the paramount Emir, Nu'ayr, the chief of the Fa∂l tribe. According to Bertrando, Nu'ayr was with Min†àsh and Yalbughà a member of the triumvirate that overthrew Barqùq in 701/1389 and put Óajjì back on the throne. Bertrando knew Nu'ayr well. They first became acquainted when Nu'ayr ambushed a trading caravan of which Mignanelli was part.29 According to Bertrando, “Nu'ayr was an active and influential noble and had a great reputation”. His alliance with Min†àsh was confirmed by Min†àsh’s marrying a daughter of Nu'ayr.30 Finally, though, Min†àsh and Nu'ayr fell out and in 795/1392–3 Nu'ayr betrayed Min†àsh to Barqùq’s nà"ib of Aleppo. Bertrando de Mignanelli reported that previously Nu'ayr and his tribe had been suffering economically because of their support of Min†àsh’s hopeless cause. After his betrayal of Min†àsh, Nu'ayr continued to enjoy (if that is the word) a turbulent career which ended with his execution in 809/1406. According to al-Sakhàwì, the power of the Àl Muhanna" came to an end, with Nu'ayr’s death.31 If Min†àsh was supported by the big Yamanì Bedouin tribes of the Syrian desert, Barqùq recruited much of his forces from the 'ushràn. In the early stage of rebellion when in 791/1389 Yalbughà al-Nàßirì advanced against Damascus, Barqùq’s nà"ib there “paraded and inspected the 'ashìr al-Zabadànì whose muqaddam (chief ) was Ibn Hilàl al-Dawla, and he inspected a section of the Qaysìs and they were 'ashìr of Wadi Barada and their muqaddam was Ibn Jàmùs”.32 It seems that, at this stage of the rebellion, the lines of conflict on Qays-Yaman partisanship had not yet been drawn up, for, though Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba does not make it explicit at this point, Ibn Hilàl al-Dawla’s 'ashìr following was Yamanì and subsequently Ibn Hilàl

29

Fischel, Ascensus, 164. For Bertrando de Mignanelli’s account of Nu'ayr’s role in the revolt, see Fischel, Ascensus, 153–154, 160–165. 31 Al-Sakhàwì, al-Îaw" al-làmi', Cairo, 1934–6, x, 203–204. Al-Sakhàwì, however, erroneously gives the year of his death as 808. Nu'ayr played such a leading role in these troubled decades, that it is not possible here to follow his career in detail. However, for a synoptic account of his career, see A.S. Tritton, ‘The Tribes of Syria in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies x, 1948, 570–571, which seems to be largely based on the account given by Ibn Khaldùn in his chapter on the Arab tribes in Syria in the 'Ibar, vi, 6–12; cf. M. Gaudefroy-Demombynes, La Syrie à l’Époque des Mamelouks, Paris, 1923, 190 and note. 32 Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Tàrìkh, 265. 30

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al-Dawla went over to Min†àsh. Ibn Íaßrà reported how in subsequent fighting in Damascus in 792/1390, when Barqùq’s forces were losing, “the Yamanìs, the tribesmen of Ibn Hilàl al-Dawla had their way with the Qaysì tribesmen”, and the pious chronicler went on to lament the brutality with which the Yamanìs slaughtered the Qaysìs, though he added that he had been told by someone that the Qaysìs had only come to plunder Damascus.33 According to Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba’s obituary of Nàßir al-Dìn b. 'Alà" al-Dìn Hilàl alDawla, under the year 794/1391–92, “when the civil war ( fitna) broke out, he had to be against Barqùq because he was muqaddam of Yaman, whereas Barqùq had the support of Qays. So that obliged him to be on Min†àsh’s side”.34 Ibn Jàmùs, on the other hand, as a Qaysì remained loyal to Barqùq.35 Ibn al-Óanash was the most prominent of the leaders of the Qaysì 'ushràn. Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba identified him as muqaddam of the Qays in the Biqa". He and his men played a leading part in besieging Min†àshi Damascus and cutting off its water supply. He went on to capture and govern Baalbek on Barqùq’s behalf, before being defeated in 792/1390 and crucified on the back of a camel with the head of one of his little sons hung round his neck. (The Yamanì leader, Ibn Hilàl al-Dawla, presided over his execution.)36 Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, in describing his execution, refers to Ibn al-Óanash as having been the ‘imam’ of his supporters, which may just possibly suggest that he was a Druze. After Ibn al-Óanash’s execution, his oldest son, 'Alà" al-Dìn b. al-Óanash, took over the leadership of the Qaysìs of the Biqa".37 Although Min†àsh had the support of Nu'ayr and most of the nomadic Arabs, Barqùq also had some support from the 'urbàn. After Barqùq had been helped to escape from Karak, much of the core of his initial support came from Arabs of the Karak region, most notably from the Banù 'Aqaba Arabs led by Ibn Khà†ir.38 The greater

33

Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 113; ii, 80–81. Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 452–453. 35 Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 333. 36 On the short and bloody career of Ibn al-Óanash, see Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 16, 44, 82–83; ii, 7, 28, 57–58; Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 300, 303, 326, 329–330. 37 Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 112, 122, 127; ii, 80, 89, 93; Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 374, 376, 410, 419. 38 Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 289; Ibn Taghrìbirdì, Al-Nujùm al-zàhira, Cairo, 1929–56, v, 474. 34

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part of the army Barqùq then brought to face the Min†àshi forces at Shaq˙ab consisted of peasants and Arabs.39 Although tribal partisanship for Barqùq and Min†àsh was in large measure dictated by traditional Qays-Yaman alignments, this was not absolute and, for example, the Banù Óàritha, a tribe of south Arabian descent, declared for Barqùq.40 Moreover, it was often possible to find a cousin or member of a cadet branch of a clan who could be sponsored against a hostile tribal emir. For example, Barqùq attempted to sponsor cousins of Nu'ayr’s to replace him as leader of the Fa∂l confederacy.41 Similarly, Ibn Hilàl al-Dawla, a leader of Yamanì 'ashìr, was said to have been murdered by a cousin who sent the head on to Damascus.42 There are numerous references to Turkomans fighting on both sides, though at first Min†àsh seems to have had a larger following of Turkomans, having presumably recruited these troops when he was first in revolt in the Malatya region. Most citizens of Damascus supported Min†àsh until it was obvious that his cause was lost. In large part, their antipathy to Barqùq seems to have been due to the looting and disorderly behaviour of Barqùq’s ¸àhirì mamlùks when they lodged in Damascus on their way to confront Yalbughà al-Nàßirì in 791/1389.43 Ibn Íaßrà indicates that Barqùq was generally unpopular with the citizens of Damascus— and for that matter with Ibn Íaßrà himself.44 Bertrando de Mignanelli also states that most of the citizens of Damascus were partisans of Min†àsh, as Barqùq advanced against Damascus, “a city that had done him much harm in the past”. The Damascans called the Sultan “the cow thief ”.45 It is a fair guess that much of Barqùq’s support at this time came from tribesmen and peasants of the hinterland who hoped to profit from the sack of Damascus. However, not all of the city was opposed to Barqùq and he was supported by the inhabitants of Óàrat al-Kilàb.46 On the other hand, most of the cit-

39

Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 42; ii, 27. Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 92 and note; ii, 64. 41 Fischel, Ascensus, 165; Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 180–181; ii, 135; Ibn Taghrìbirdì, Nujùm, v, 548; al-Sakhàwì, Dàw", x, 203–204. 42 Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 453. 43 Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, i, 17–18; ii, 8; Ibn Taghrìbirdì, Nujùm, v, 399–400. 44 Ibn Íaßrà, Chronicle, v, 45–6; ii, 28–29. 45 Fischel, Ascensus, 155. 46 See note 28 above. 40

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izens of Aleppo seem to have supported Barqùq, with the exception of the poor suburb of Bànaqùsà which was Min†àshi.47 The motives of the most of the tribesmen and ‘civilians’ who participated in the civil strife, or fitna, of the 1390s remain unclear. It seems likely that declarations of loyalty to Qays or to Yaman sometimes concealed mercenary motives and the 'urbàn and 'ushràn must often have been fighting for pay, or at least in the expectation of plunder. (Press-gangs may also have had a role.) However, the chronicles shy away from mentioning mercenary details. More generally references to Qays-Yaman feuding in chronicles of the Mamluk period, though quite frequent, are sporadic and it is impossible to get any systematic picture of the moieties or to establish their continuity over any length of time. The troubles of the 790s/1390s appear exceptional in that, in this period, one finds leading mamlùks fighting at the heads of large Syrian tribal followings. However, it has already been indicated that the period is also exceptional in that it was written about by three contemporary historians who were based in Syria and who covered local events in great detail. It would be unwise to conclude from the silence of other chroniclers in other decades that Qays-Yaman alignments did not have a role in what at first sight seem to be disputes solely within the Mamluk elite. For example, Ibn Taghrìbirdì’s chronicle, al-Nujùm al-zàhira, is in many ways an excellent source on the troubles of the 790s/1390s, for the chronicler’s father, the Emir Taghrìbirdì, fought on Barqùq’s side in the war, and the Nujùm provides an immense amount of detail about events in Egypt and more generally about the fortunes and misfortunes of individual emirs and mamlùks. However, he is less well informed about events in Syria and places much less emphasis on the role of citizens and tribesmen in the wars. Moreover, if one only had the evidence provided by Ibn Taghrìbirdì (and other Egyptian historians like him), one could not guess that Qays-Yaman rivalry played any part in those wars, for he never mentions the two moieties in his annals of the period.48 The Syrian military reservoir was not just drawn upon in years of internal strife. Non-Mamluk Syrians, mostly mounted Arabs from the desert and infantry archers from the Biqa" and Palestine, furnished

47 48

Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, Ta"rìkh, 341; cf. Lapidus, Muslim Cities, 89, 166–167. The civil wars of the time are covered in Nujùm, v, 388–551 passim.

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a large part of the forces that were deployed in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries against Timur, the Aqqoyonlu and the Ottomans. The army of Egypt in the Mamluk period has been the subject of systematic study.49 However, the Syrian army and the ways it was recruited, equipped and paid have yet to receive the attention they deserve. A minor puzzle relating to the Qays-Yaman struggles of the 1390s is that Barqùq, who placed himself at the head of the Qaysì faction, appears to have claimed South Arabian descent for himself, via some Ghassanids who had allegedly settled in Circassia in pre-Islamic times.50

49 D. Ayalon, ‘Studies on the Structure of the Mamluk Army’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental African Studies 15, 1953, 203–228, 448–476; 16, 1954, 57–90. 50 Ibn Khaldùn, 'Ibar, v, 472; cf. P.M. Holt, ‘The Exalted Lineage of Ridwan Bey: Some Observations on a Seventeenth-Century Mamluk Genealogy’, in idem, Studies in the History of the Near East, London, 1973, 220–230. Although Ibn Khaldùn was dubious about the Ghassanid origins of the Circassians, al-'Aynì, who later wrote about the lineages of the Circassian Mamluk Sultans, al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh and al-¸àhir ˇà†àr, was more credulous: Al-'Aynì, al-Sayf al-Muhannad, Cairo, 1967, 27–29; al-'Aynì, al-Raw∂ al-zàhir fì sìrat al-Malik al-¸àhir, Cairo, 1962, 5.

THE COLLAPSE OF THE GREAT SALJUQS Julie Scott Meisami (Oxford)

Donald Richards has devoted many years to the study of Ibn alAthìr’s (d. 630/1233) monumental history, al-Kàmil fì al-ta"rìkh. His English translation of Ibn al-Athìr’s sections on the Saljuqs, which was recently published by Curzon, has long been eagerly awaited. Here, as a sort of supplementary offering, I propose to focus on what Ibn al-Athìr, from his western (and Arabic) perspective, did not know about the last Saljuqs, as recorded in the Persian historian Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì Ràvandì’s Rà˙at al-ßudùr wa-àyat al-surùr (completed c. 601/1204–5). The last two chapters of this work’s historical section deal with the sultanate of ˇughril III (571–90/1176–94), the last of the Iraqi Saljuqs, and the Khwarazmian occupation of Iraq which followed ˇughril’s defeat and death in 590/1194. Ràvandì’s work was originally intended for Sultan ˇughril; but due to the chaotic circumstances in Iraq both before and after ˇughril’s death, it was finally dedicated to the Saljuq sultan of Rùm, Ghiyàth al-Dìn Kaykhusraw (588–92/1192–96, 601–7/1204–10). While Ràvandì’s accounts of the early Saljuqs are based on the Saljùqnàma of his kinsman ¸ahìr al-Dìn Nìshàpùrì (d. 582/1187), which was completed early in ˇughril’s reign, the material in these chapters is original, and is virtually unparalleled elsewhere, since Ràvandì, as a member of ˇughril’s court, himself witnessed the events that he recounts. I offer this account (with which I shall compare Ibn al-Athìr’s treatment of the same events) first, because it remains virtually unstudied; second, because the tendency to view Islamicate history from the perspective of the great dynasties has largely ignored affairs in Persian Iraq between the collapse of the Iraqi Saljuqs and the Mongol onslaught; and, finally, because it challenges some common assumptions about the Saljuqs themselves.1

1 References are to Ràvandì, Rà˙at al-ßudùr wa-àyat al-surùr, M. Iqbàl, ed., London, 1921 (= RS); Ibn al-Athìr, al-Kàmil fì al-ta"rìkh, Beirut, 1965–67 (= K). On various aspects of Ràvandì’s work, see J.S. Meisami, Ràvandì’s Rà˙at al-ßudùr: history or

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ˇughril III b. Arslàn was seven years old when he succeeded his father Arslàn b. ˇughril (556–71/1161–76). His rule was secured by his atàbak, Mu˙ammad b. Ìldigiz Jahàn Pahlavàn, whose own father, Shams al-Dìn Ìldigiz, had died shortly before Sultan Arslàn. Ràvandì begins his chapter on ˇughril’s reign (as he does those on each of the Saljuq sultans) with a verbal portrait: Sultan ˇughril was exceedingly handsome. He wore his hair in three plaits down his back; his whiskers were abundant, and the ends of his mustaches touched the base of his ears. He was tall and broad chested, with a long neck. No one (else) could lift his mace or draw his bow. His motto was ‘I rely on God alone’.2

After naming ˇughril’s viziers and ˙ujjàb, Ràvandì describes how the sultan, “born in the dawlat’s nest and raised in that family which fortune blessed”, inherited rule without having to strive for it, “was transferred from the cradle to the throne” and “went from the school to mount the steed of rule” (RS, 331).3 The good fortune which obtained at the beginning of his reign was due to the virtue, wisdom, and military skill of Jahàn Pahlavàn who, faced with “a kingdom which had been lost”, the threat of a rival pretender, and the non-cooperation of the local rulers, put his trust in God and in his own strength. “In one month he made two attacks, to Pars and to Isfahan [sic]”; he subdued both regions, and “made two covetous

hybrid? Edebiyat, n.s. 5, 1994, 181–215; J.S. Meisami ‘The Sâh-nâme as mirror for princes: a study in reception’, in C. Balaÿ, C. Kappler and Z. Vesel, eds, Pand-o Sokhan: Mélanges offerts à Charles-Henri de Fouchécour, Tehran, 1995, 265–273; J.S. Meisami, Persian Historiography to the End of the Twelfth Century, Edinburgh, 1999, 237–256; J.S. Meisami, ‘The Historian and the poet: Ràvandì, NiΩàmì, and the rhetoric of history’, in K. Talattof and J.W. Clinton, eds, The Poetry of Nizami Ganjavi: Knowledge, Love, and Rhetoric, New York, 2000, 97–128. For Nìshàpùrì, see The History of the Seljuq Turks from the Jàmi' al-Tawàrìkh: An Ilkhanid Adaptation of the Saljùq-nàma of ¸ahìr al-Dìn Nìshàpùrì, K.A. Luther, tr., Richmond, 2001, which includes the continuation by Abù Óàmid Mu˙ammad b. Ibràhìm; see also Meisami, Persian Historiography, 229–234. Transcription of Turkish names follows the Persian/Arabic orthography, rather than later Ottoman conventions; translations, unless otherwise indicated, are my own. 2 Tawqì': the motto employed as his signature and/or engraved on his seal ring. 3 Compare Nìshàpùrì, History, 151–153, and Abù Óàmid’s continuation, 155–164; Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad Óusaynì Yazdì (d. 743/1342–43, al-'Urà∂a fì al-˙ikàya al-Saljùqiyya, K. Süssheim, ed., Das Geschenck aus der Saldschukengeschichte, Leiden, 1909, 163–164.

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kings content with servitude and sitting in castles”.4 ˇughril’s rule was secured, his subjects were safe from oppression and disorder, and all prayed that his reign might endure. Each day he manifested some new trait of kingship and governance; and the hopes of the atàbak and the amìrs increased daily, for none of his predecessors had combined so many qualities and virtues (RS, 331–332).5 For ten years ˇughril’s reign was stable and prosperous under the firm hand of Jahàn Pahlavàn, who aspired to provide for him “that which neither Sanjar nor Malikshàh had possessed”, including the restoration of the Dàr al-Sal†ana in Baghdad. “The sort of things the caliph’s deputies [nuvvàb-i Dàr al-khilàfa] engage in nowadays,” says Ràvandì, “provoking local amìrs with blandishments and seeking to stir up the districts . . . they could not accomplish in the days of the atàbak Mu˙ammad”, who used to say that the caliph (Imam) should confine himself to being named in the khu†ba and leading the prayer, and “delegate rule to the sultans” (RS, 334). Rule was, in fact, in the hands of the atàbak: “The sultan was busy with feasting and pleasure, the atàbak with warfare and toil.” His attacks on Azerbayjan and Isfahan and his destruction of “two covetous kings” are again noted, as is his conciliation of rebellious amìrs, who, having been brought to hand, were removed and replaced with his own mamlùks. “He set up sixty or seventy standards of his own slaves throughout the realm, and appointed each one over a city or region, in the hope that, ‘Since they are (our) slaves, they will protect our offspring from enemies’. . . . “But those same slaves ruined the realm for (both) his and the sultan’s offspring” (RS, 334–335).6 The consequences of this policy appeared after Jahàn Pahlavàn’s death in 582/1186. While alive, he had strengthened and enriched his mamlùks from wealth obtained by raids on Fars. But this was an “ill-omened action”, as later those same slaves, “pretending to be

4 Translation from Nìshàpùrì, History, 151, who has (correctly) Azerbayjan for Isfahan (cf. RS, 332 n. 1). The rival (whom Ràvandì does not name) was ˇughril’s uncle, Mu˙ammad b. ˇughril b. Mu˙ammad b. Malikshàh, who had occupied much of Fars. Iqbàl identified the ‘two kings’ as the king of Abkhàz (Georgia), who had invaded Azerbayjan, and Mu˙ammad b. ˇughril (RS, 332 n. 2). 5 Compare Nìshàpùrì, History, 152, whose account ends here. 6 Compare Abù al-Sharaf Jarbàdhaqànì, Tarjuma-yi Tàrìkh-i Yamìnì, J. Shi'àr, ed., Tehran, 1966, 422–423. See also K.A. Luther, ‘Ràvandì’s report on the administrative changes of Mu˙ammad Jahàn Pahlavàn’, in C.E. Bosworth, ed., Iran and Islam, Edinburgh, 1971, 14–33.

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Khwarazmians, did the same to Iraq, and destroyed themselves and their households with their own hands” (RS, 335–356). Ràvandì himself saw how the mamlùks sent Qur"àns and other books (kutub-i vaqfì) looted from madrasas and libraries to painters (naqqàshàn) in Hamadan, “erased the statements of endowment, inscribed [their own] names and titles, and gave them to one another as gifts”.7 The reason why this “corruption” became manifest in Iraq was because not one of those Turks “had learned a single rule of kingship from the conduct of his fathers and predecessors”. The atàbak did not anticipate these consequences, but sought “the immediate adornment of the kingdom”, and would say, “In the end, things will remain the same.” He was greatly attached to his wife and children, and wished to make each of his sons and daughters powerful and secure; to that end, he married his daughters to local princes, and taught his sons the ways of kingship. But he was dominated by his wife, Ìnànj Khàtùn, who wished her sons to rule (RS, 336). Her ambitions played a major role in the events which followed the atàbak’s death. In 581/1184–85 the Ayyubid Íalà˙ al-Dìn (Saladin) came to Mosul. He sought the atàbak’s permission to enter Iraq in order to destroy the forts of the “accursed heretics” (the Isma'ilis) around Qazvìn, Bis†àm, and Dàmghàn. “By this he meant to begin the conquest of Iraq; the atàbak saw this, considered it, was obliged to act to prevent it, and did battle with him.” The stress of planning brought on an attack of dysentery which persisted after Saladin’s departure. Gravely ill, Jahàn Pahlavàn went to his sons in the fort of ˇabarak in Rayy, where he died (RS, 337). Ibn al-Athìr has little to say about ˇughril’s accession or the events that preceded and followed it. Under the ‘various events’ ('iddat ˙awàdith) which conclude the year 573/1177–78, he notes that in Mu˙arram the khu†ba was said for ˇughril, whose father Arslàn had just died and who was residing with Ìldigiz (sic) in Hamadan (K, xi, 446). No further details are given; and we do not hear of the Saljuqs again until, sub anno 581/1184–85, Ibn al-Athìr states that Saladin, who had besieged Mosul, abandoned the siege on hearing that the Shàh-i Arman (the ruler of Akhlà†) had died without leaving a successor. He thought Akhlà† would be easy pickings, especially since

7 This statement has important implications with regard both to the supposed inviolability of vaqf properties and to issues of patronage.

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he had received letters from its notables summoning him so that they might deliver the region to him. “But this correspondence was a deceit and a trick”; for Jahàn Pahlavàn, who had contracted a marriage between one of his daughters and the Shàh-i Arman (despite the latter’s advanced age) as a means of strengthening his claim to Akhlà†, had also marched against the Akhlà†ìs. “When they learned [this] they wrote to Saladin, summoning him (so as) to deliver the region to him. [ They meant] to defend (themselves) against the Bahlavàn through him, and against him through the Bahlavàn, so that the region would remain in their possession.” The upshot was a truce with Jahàn Pahlavàn, and the khu†ba was said in his name (K, xi, 513–514). Sub anno 582/1185–86 Ibn al-Athìr records the death of Jahàn Pahlavàn, whom he describes as “just, of good conduct, wise, forbearing, with a good policy of rule” (this is a recurrent formula in Ibn al-Athìr’s death notices of rulers). “[His lands] were secure and the populace tranquil.” When he died, there were riots in Isfahan between the Shàfi'ìs and the Óanafìs, which resulted in much destruction; similar riots, between Sunnìs and Shi'is, broke out in Rayy. Ibn al-Athìr notes that Qizil Arslàn succeeded his brother, and that although the khu†ba was said in ˇughril’s name, he had no real power; that had been in the hands of Jahàn Pahlavàn. “ˇughril rebelled against Qizil Arslàn’s control”; he was joined by some amìrs and their troops, and took control of some regions. “And between him and Qizil battles took place which, God willing, we shall mention” (K, xi, 525–6).8 Ràvandì states that when Jahàn Pahlavàn died his family kept him in his bed-clothes for two or three months while they plotted and planned. His sons concurred that his slaves and officials should remain

8 Ibn al-Athìr also notes, under ‘various events’, that the astrologers had predicted that on 29 Jumàdà II 582/16 September 1186 the five planets would be conjoined in Libra, producing a wind- and dust-storm which would kill many and destroy the land. On the date, however, not a breath of wind stirred; “thus God gave the lie to the astrologers’ idle speech and put them to shame” (K, xi, 528). This prediction (which in the Persian sources is said to involve all seven ‘planets’) is linked by Jarbàdhqànì to Jahàn Pahlavàn’s death and its calamitous aftermath (see Meisami, Persian Historiography, 263–264, and further below), and by Af∂al alDìn Kirmànì in his Iqd al-'ulà (584/1189) to the Ghuzz chieftain Malik Dìnàr’s conquest of Kirman in that year, which put an end to a long period of troubles (see Persian Historiography, 236–237). Ràvandì mentions neither the prediction nor the conjunction.

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in place, so that their power would gradually increase. But since the amìrs and officials knew that “two such powerful rulers as Sultan ˇughril and Atàbak Qizil” had been awaiting just such an opportunity, this plan would not work. Ìnànj Khàtùn, her vizier Khvàja 'Azìz ('Azìz al-Dìn b. al-Ri∂à, who later became ˇughril’s vizier), and some of the amìrs decided to swear allegiance to ˇughril and leave Qizil Arslàn in control of Arràn and Azerbayjan; he “would be, as he had been, the sultan’s weapon, without seeing him”. Ìnànj Khàtùn “inclined towards the sultan, and wished”, by marrying him, to increase her own power (RS, 337–338). Others (the Amìr-i Bàr, Nùr al-Dìn the Qur"àn Reader, Nùr alDìn Qarà the ruler of Qazvìn, and other prominent amìrs) inclined towards Qizil Arslàn.9 They wrote to him secretly, saying that they would “keep the kingdom neglected and iq†à's idle” until he arrived in Hamadan. ˇughril knew that if he did not summon Qizil Arslàn, the latter would rebel, “the army of Iraq would become his sword”, and he would bring out some imprisoned Saljuq prince and set him on the throne. He sent the Amìr-i Bàr’s son, Sharaf al-Dìn Alp Arghùn, to Azerbayjan with the appropriate insignia and gifts. Having been invested as atàbak, Qizil Arslàn, with a large contingent of troops, came to Hamadan and paid homage to the sultan. ˇughril’s personal slave, Qaràkuz-i Sul†ànì, wanted to stab him, but the sultan forbade this with a glance, “even though it could have been done”. Qizil Arslàn’s slaves and supporters seized and blinded Qaràkuz. The atàbak was now firmly established, with the full support of the army, and ˇughril was virtually powerless. A certain Jamàl al-Dìn Khujandì secretly sent him a dubaytì which predicted that ˇughril would ultimately triumph over his enemies; in the letter, which accompanied these verses, Khujandì wrote that, although the sultan’s enemy (Qizil Arslàn) desired to rule, he would perish in the end and ˇughril would triumph (RS, 339–340). “These words were an omen”, says Ràvandì, who now turns to the revolt of the amìrs Ay Aba and Rùs.10 The atàbak knew he could 9 Ràvandì’s use of names reflects the mamlùk status of most of those mentioned, many of whom are known only by their own or their fathers’ positions (for example the Amìr-i Bàr [chief ˙àjib], Nùr al-Dìn the Qur"àn Reader and his son, and so on). Some of these persons are identified more fully in Iqbàl’s notes. 10 Abù Óàmid states that when Jahàn Pahlavàn died “Jamàl al-Dìn Ay Aba the Taster, Sayf al-Dìn Rùs and Jamàl al-Dìn Uz Aba were in Isfahan”. After Qizil Arslàn had consolidated his power (this is conveyed in highly uncomplimentary terms), Ay Aba and Rùs “openly rebelled, and secretly they communicated their

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not pursue them without the agreement of the other amìrs and the sultan, so he waited to see what would happen. Whenever the sultan suffered from pain in his foot, he would take to his bed and summon his physicians. This made his warders negligent; and one night ˇughril seized his chance and fled to Ay Aba and Rùs. He was received by the ruler of Mazandaran (a “hypocritical Ràfi∂ì”, i.e. an Imàmì Shi'i, upon whom and all his kind Ràvandì showers curses), who did not honour ˇughril sincerely when he entertained him, and continually represented his weakness to Qizil Arslàn and pretended that he was about to seize the sultan.11 ˇughril raided the Isma'ilis; the atàbak got bored and went to Hamadan “because of an attachment of the heart”. It was autumn; one night, Fakhr al-Dìn 'Alà" al-Dawla 'Arabshàh (the ra"ìs of Hamadan) lit a fire on his roof; the atàbak, thinking the sultan had arrived, decamped for Azerbayjan (RS, 341–342).12 The sultan was still in Rayy, where Ìnànj Khàtùn pretended to support him. He came to Hamadan, appointed Khvàja 'Azìz as his vizier, and received homage from various amìrs; he was welcomed by the populace, and was installed in the palace of the ra"ìs, where he spent the winter. Ay Aba and Rùs lorded it, “as if they had done commendable service”, while the amìrs hated them. With the sultan’s agreement, Ay Aba had Rùs seized at home while drunk, and plundered his goods; he was imprisoned in 'Alà" al-Dawla’s fort. Although an entire district of Hamadan was looted by the sultan’s troops, the populace still supported him (RS, 343–344). Siràj al-Dìn Qaymàz, Jamàl al-Dìn Ay Aba Farra˙ìnì (read: Farrazìnì), Badr al-Dìn Qaràquz Atàbakì and Nùr al-Dìn the Qur"àn Reader were in the service of the atàbak Abù Bakr b. Jahàn Pahlavàn in Isfahan. The Isfahanis rioted and threw them out; the sultan sent

circumstances to the Sultan”; they then “went to try and take Rayy” (Nìshàpùrì, History, 155–156). 11 This oversimplifies a complex passage in which ˇughril, although he perceives the Mazandarani ruler’s hypocrisy and base nature, nevertheless accepts his hospitality. (The ruler in question was the Bàvandid Óusàm al-Dawla wa-al-Dìn Ardashìr b. Óusayn.) There is a good deal of ‘naming and shaming’ both here and throughout these chapters. Abù Óàmid states that in Jumàdà II 583/July-August 1187 ˇughril joined Ay Aba and Rùs at Simnàn; their combined forces defeated Qizil Arslàn near Girdkùh; then ˇughril went to Mazandaran, whose ruler gave him “a pleasant reception” (Nìshàpùrì, History, 156–157). 12 We shall hear more below of Fakhr al-Dìn 'Arabshàh. The position of ra"ìs seems to have been hereditary in the family of the Óasanid Sayyids of Hamadan, and to have been marked by recurrent titulature.

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troops against them, but they ambushed the troops, seized the sultan’s amìrs, and let no one escape. The Amìr-i 'Alam (the Standard Bearer) was seized and the rest were killed; their bodies were brought to Hamadan, where mourning ceremonies were held. This was a bad omen for the sultan’s dawlat. The local amìrs despaired and made excuses not to march because of the winter and the snow. When spring came the caliph (al-Nàßir li-Dìn Allàh, 575–622/1180–1225) sent Qizil Arslàn a khil'at and other tokens of honour, and informed him that the caliph’s troops would stop at Kirmànshàhàn and Dìnawar, that Qizil Arslàn should join the train of the caliph’s vizier and accompany him to Hamadan, and that the caliph’s deputies would occupy Hamadan. (Caliphal politics played a major part in ˇughril’s undoing.) From Hamadan, informers reported the sultan’s weakness. The caliph’s troops proceeded, fully equipped and feeling secure. Before Qizil Arslàn could join them, ˇughril attacked; after fierce fighting (which involved, among other things, the use of Greek fire), the vizier’s litter was overturned, he was captured, and the caliph’s army was defeated (RS, 345–346). No one in Hamadan would buy the captured horses out of respect for the caliphate; the wounded were taken to the congregational mosque, where they pleaded for bread. The caliph’s army did not, however, learn its lesson, but attacked Iraq ten (or two?) more times, and was always defeated. Sub anno 583/1187–88 Ibn al-Athìr notes that ˇughril’s situation “grew stronger, his supporters increased, and he took control of many territories”. Qizil Arslàn sought support from the caliph, making him fearful of ˇughril and professing his own loyalty. ˇughril also sent an envoy to Baghdad, saying that he wished the caliphal dìwàn to proceed with the restoration of the Dàr al-Sal†ana, “so that I may dwell there when I arrive”. The caliph honoured Qizil’s envoy and promised him support, but sent ˇughril’s envoy away without an answer, and ordered the destruction of the Dàr al-Sal†ana, which was razed to the ground (K, xi, 560). In 584/1188 the caliph fitted out a great army, led by his vizier Jalàl al-Dìn 'Ubayd Allàh b. Yùnus, and sent them to help Qizil Arslàn against ˇughril. They drew near Hamadan, but Qizil Arslàn did not join them. On 8 Rabì' I/7 May the armies engaged at Dàymarj. The caliphal army fled; the vizier was seized, along with his treasury and whatever possessions and valuables he had with him.13 13

Ibn al-Athìr, who was then with Saladin’s army in Syria, states that when

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Following this victory, says Ràvandì, 'Alà" al-Dìn, the ruler of Maragha, waited on the sultan in Hamadan, and ˇughril entrusted his son Barkyàruq to his care.14 The sultan’s army was preparing to fight Qizil Arslàn, who was advancing on Hamadan. The sultan had ditches dug and filled with water; but Qizil Arslàn suddenly turned back, and ˇughril did not pursue him, as he did not trust Ay Aba and Uz Aba. For fifteen days no one knew what had happened or where the atàbak was; the sultan was uneasy, and knew that Ay Aba would do nothing and that another army was needed to fight Qizil Arslàn. He ordered that Ay Aba and Uz Aba be killed (RS, 347). Meanwhile Qutlugh Ìnànj had rebelled and had gone to his mother in Rayy; 'Alà" al-Dìn returned to Maragha and the sultan marched towards Azerbayjan. Qizil Arslàn had gone to Kirmànshàhàn, from whence he brought a detachment of caliphal troops to Hamadan; they looted many houses searching for the wealth of his opponents. ˇughril had gone to Tabriz and stirred things up; Qizil Arslàn was obliged to return to Azerbayjan, and the sultan came back to Hamadan, where he spent the winter, and no one moved because of the snow and the cold (RS, 348).15 Ràvandì now turns to ˇughril’s good relations with the scholar ¸ahìr al-Dìn Balkhì, whom he regularly frequented. Balkhì persuaded ˇughril that his apparent supporters were “the enemies of this dawlat; they should all be seized and their property given to others who will support the sultan”. Various officials wrote to Qutlugh Ìnànj informing him of this, and suggested that they join forces and seize ˇughril. A complicated account tells how the conspiracy was revealed to ˇughril, the messengers apprehended, the letters discovered and their writers exposed (RS, 349–350).16 ˇughril imprisoned the conspirators, news of this defeat reached Saladin his comment was that because the vizier knew nothing about warfare the troops did not consider him worthy of obedience, but because the sultan had begun the conflict his troops obeyed him (K, xii, 24–25). 14 This was 'Alà" al-Dìn Kurp Arslàn (or Qarà Sunqur), the A˙madìlì ruler of Maragha, who commissioned NiΩàmì Ganjavì’s Haft Paykar; see EI 2, s.v. A˙madìlì; NiΩàmì Ganjavì, Haft Paykar, tr. J.S. Meisami, Oxford, 1995, xiii. 15 Compare Abù Óàmid in Nìshapùrì, History, 157–158. This pattern of to-ing and fro-ing between Azerbayjan and Hamadan continually repeats itself: the Ìldiguzids’ power base was in Azerbayjan, ˇughril’s in Hamadan. 16 Óusaynì Yazdì considers ˇughril’s association with ¸ahìr al-Dìn Balkhì (whom he terms Shaykh al-Islàm) to have been the cause of his downfall. His frequenting of this “second Bayàzìd” and his consulting with him on affairs of state and religion “stuck in the throats of the amìrs”, who, in concert, behaved hypocritically towards him and secretly agreed to move against him. The shaykh perceived this

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who were obliged to pay dearly for their release. One of them, Qutlugh-i Tasht-Dàr (the Basin Bearer), informed the sultan that Fakhr al-Dìn 'Alà" al-Dawla, on the advice of Jahàn Pahlavàn, had paid him (Qutlugh) to administer poison to ˇughril’s father, Sultan Arslàn, in revenge for Arslàn’s forcible marriage with 'Alà al-Dawla’s sister.17 ˇughril ordered the prisoners killed; later, when it was time to move to the grazing lands, he prepared to march, and ordered 'Alà al-Dawla to accompany him. The latter pretended to be sick; ˇughril, not deceived, ordered that he be strangled with a bowstring (RS, 352).18 The sultan made several sorties around Hamadan, but his rule was not secure. Qizil Arslàn marched from Azerbayjan; ˇughril, unable to oppose him, abandoned Hamadan and made for Azerbayjan. The atàbak pursued him and raided his baggage train; ˇughril fled to 'Izz al-Dìn Óasan b. Qifchàq, the governor of Azerbayjan. Qizil Arslàn confiscated all the wealth of his opponents that he could find, and appropriated the tax revenues, the income from the iq†à's and the army’s grain stores. The Azerbayjanis abused the populace of Hamadan, who sent alms and money to the pious and ascetics to pray for ˇughril’s return. Throughout Iraq “there were more than ten thousand pious and virtuous people who, never having seen the sultan nor greeted him, loved him more than their own lives . . . Every moment they would say, ‘The sultan has come’, and would go to the houses of worship and pray, ‘Let the sultan return as soon as possible’” (RS, 355–356).19 The caliph’s army had brought honours (tashrìf ) “for that generous king and merciful ruler, the great sovereign Qizil Arslàn—may God make his resting-place cold!—and from the outlying regions and warned ˇughril, who ceased to show favour to his amìrs. They wrote to Qutlugh Ìnànj, complaining about the sultan’s attachment to Balkhì and his demeaning of themselves, and sought his agreement that they, with the help of 'Alà" al-Dawla the ra"ìs of Hamadan, should seize ˇughril. The sultan discovered their letters (the account of this discovery is similar to Ràvandì’s, although somewhat more forced because of Óusaynì’s obsessive use of rhyming prose) and the conspirators were seized (Óusaynì, al-'Urà∂a, 164–166). 17 Compare Óusaynì, al-'Urà∂a, 166–169; see also the account of 'Imàd al-Dìn al-Kàtib al-Ißfahànì (d. 597/1201), in al-Bundàrì, Histoire des Seldjoucides de l’Iràq, M.T. Houtsma, ed., Leiden, 1889. 18 'Imàd al-Dìn states that he had him poisoned; see al-Bundàrì, Histoire, 501. 19 Abù Óàmid states that Qifchàq provided ˇughril with an army and equipment, and that his situation improved (Nìshàpùrì, History, 159; compare al-Bundàrì, Histoire, 501).

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envoys set out for that august presence and celestial court”, says Ràvandì, in a tone which reveals his true feelings towards the atàbak. One envoy was Shihàb al-Dìn Astaràbàdì, chief secretary of the ruler of Mazandaran, with whom Ràvandì became closely acquainted. Astaràbàdì, who was a friend of Ràvandì’s uncle Zayn al-Dìn Ma˙mùd (the sultan’s tutor), charged the latter to go to Mazandaran as the sultan’s envoy, and instructed Ràvandì to accompany him. Ràvandì fell ill and was forced to remain in Mazandaran for some time; even after he returned to Ravand his illness persisted. One day, in the midst of his suffering, a friend told him that that ˇughril had returned to Hamadan from Azerbayjan after many defeats at the hands of his enemies, had “said farewell to the throne and set his face towards the Hereafter”, had sent his son to Baghdad and retired to the tomb of his ancestors. Ràvandì was deeply distressed by this news; investigating, he learned of the events that had occurred during his absence (RS, 356–359).20 Qizil Arslàn had gone to Azerbayjan, defeated Qifchàq’s troops and scattered them; the children were sold as slaves, the adults taken captive. ˇughril, in despair, had retired to the tomb of his ancestors. With Qizil Arslàn’s agreement, some Iraqi amìrs had followed ˇughril to Hamadan. They pretended that they had fled from the atàbak, and swore to serve the sultan if he would forgive them. Mutual oaths were exchanged; but when ˇughril came out to receive their homage they seized him (this was in Rama∂àn 576/October 1190) and told him that Qizil Arslàn had ordered him to be sent to the fortress of Dizmàr. A certain Fakhr al-Dìn Qutlugh Qaràquzì struck the sultan’s parasol with his sword, and ˇughril was taken prisoner (RS, 362).21 Qizil Arslàn came to Hamadan, released Malik Sanjar b. Sulaymàn (a grandson of Malikshàh) from prison, set him on the throne, and assigned iq†à's to the amìrs. Then he went to Isfahan and married Ìnànj Khàtùn. The caliph encouraged him to claim the sultanate; Qizil Arslàn imprisoned Sanjar and “sat upon the throne; he established a new custom, but his ingratitude towards his sovereign, and

20 There is a lacuna of about two years in Ràvandì’s account. Abù Óàmid’s version of the events of this period (Nìshàpùrì, History, 159–160) corresponds closely with Ràvandì’s own retrospective account. 21 Compare Abù Óàmid (Nìshàpùrì, History, 160); Óusaynì (al-'Urà∂a, 170–171) gives a slightly more embroidered version.

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his treachery, did not prove auspicious. This was an ill-omened action, which drew a line through ˇughril’s rule and sultanate; for Ìnànj Khàtùn and the Iraqi amìrs, who had established his rule, destroyed him”. Thinking that, since they had betrayed ˇughril, no one would trust them, Ìnànj Khàtùn and the amìrs decided to kill Qizil Arslàn before he could remove them and replace them with his own servants. They murdered him while he was drunk and sleeping in his tent, seized the kingdom and divided it amongst themselves. That same night the atàbak Abù Bakr took his uncle’s ring and insignia and went to Azerbayjan, where he secured the region; the amìrs of Arràn and Azerbayjan declared their obedience to him (RS, 363).22 Sub anno 587/1191–92 Ibn al-Athìr reports that in Shawwàl Qizil Arslàn was killed. He reminds us that he has already told how Qizil Arslàn took control after the death of Jahàn Pahlavàn, subjugated many regions, and seized and imprisoned Sultan ˇughril.23 “Towards the end of his reign” Qizil Arslàn “went to Isfahan, where there had been continuous disturbances since the death of al-Bahlavàn.” He persecuted the Shàfi'ìs, “seized a number of their notables and crucified them; then he returned to Hamadan and proclaimed himself sultan”. “On the night he was killed he went into his house to sleep; his companions dispersed. Someone entered and killed him in his bed; his murderer was unknown. His supporters seized his doorkeeper on suspicion. He was noble and virtuous, loving justice and following it, resorting to clemency and little punishment” (K, xii, 75–76). Ràvandì makes no mention of Qizil Arslàn’s attack on the Shàfi'ìs of Isfahan, where he went to marry Ìnànj Khàtùn; Ibn alAthìr seems ignorant of Ìnànj Khàtùn’s conspiracy with the amìrs to murder the atàbak, and says nothing about the events which followed his death. For Ràvandì, Qizil Arslàn was a power-hungry usurper who betrayed his legitimate sovereign; for Ibn al-Athìr, he was (despite his persecution of the Shàfi'ìs) a noble, just and forbearing prince.

22 Abù Óàmid (Nìshàpùrì, History, 160) does not mention Malik Sanjar or Qizil Arslàn’s marriage to Ìnànj Khàtùn, and attributes the atàbak’s seizure of the sultanate to his own decision. Óusaynì states that when Qizil Arslàn was about to put Malik Sanjar on the throne a secret letter arrived from the caliph urging him to claim the sultanate; he notes the amìrs’ conspiracy to kill Qizil Arslàn, but does not mention Ìnànj Khàtùn (al-'Urà∂a, 171–172). 23 In fact, he has said nothing of the sort. There are many such lapses in Ibn al-Athìr’s accounts; see further below.

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Ràvandì now tells how Qutlugh Ìnànj and the Iraqis divided up Iraq, leaving Azerbayjan to the atàbak Abù Bakr. While the Iraqis sat idle, ˇughril’s supporters freed him from prison, “and with a meagre force undertook a perilous task, and marched against the army of Iraq”. The Iraqis, with their superior numbers, took this as a joke; they were defeated by the sultan’s troops, who took much booty and set off for Hamadan. ˇughril’s rule was restored, and the local rulers came to pay him homage (RS, 363–364; the battle took place in Jumàdà II 588/June 1192). Ibn al-Athìr says simply that in 588/1192, after Qizil Arslàn’s death, ˇughril came out of prison and fought a battle with Qutlugh Ìnànj; the latter, defeated, fled to Rayy, “and there happened that which we will mention . . . under the year 590 [1194]” (K, xii, 94). Before Ràvandì comes to the events of that year, he has much more to impart. “The martyred sultan, the felicitous ruler, sat upon the throne of the sultanate, and commenced ruling the kingdom.” The Iraqi amìrs, defeated and disgraced, were put to flight. Qutlugh Qaràquzì, who had struck the sultan’s parasol with his sword, was captured; “the sultan split him in two, and sent him to the guardian of Hell”. In 589/1193 ˇughril appointed Mu'ìn-i Kàshì as his vizier. The Amìr al-Umarà Jamàl al-Dìn Ay Aba came to Hamadan to arrange an amnesty for the Iraqi amìrs; but “before any words were spoken or that dish was cooked” Sharaf al-Dìn Alp Arghùn, the son of the Amìr-i Bàr (and Ay Aba’s son-in-law), came from Qum to pay homage to the sultan. ˇughril, who had a grudge against Alp Arghùn, had both him and Ay Aba seized and their property confiscated. Alp Arghùn bribed his guards, who helped him escape and hid him in a house in Chàlùsgird. The sultan sent troops after him; they surrounded the house, killed the fugitive, and took his head to Hamadan. Ay Aba was spared; he sent someone to Farrazìn to bring his sons from there, delivered the keys to one of ˇughril’s trusted confidants, and the sultan henceforth sent his treasuries and prisoners there. Qaràquz-i Sul†ànì and the ˙àjib-i khàßß protected Ay Aba until the sultan appointed him an iq†à' and restored him to service (RS, 364–365).24

24 This Ay Aba (on whom see further below) is not to be confused with the Ay Aba who rebelled along with Rùs.

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The Khwàrazmshàh Takish had come to Rayy and secured the fort of ˇabarak. Ìnànj Khàtùn had gone to the fort of Sar Jahàn, had asked that ˇughril’s daughter be given in marriage to the Khwàrazmshàh’s son Yùnus Khàn, and had returned to Rayy. In the spring of 590/1194 the sultan went to Rayy and besieged ˇabarak, which he took and destroyed.25 He returned to Hamadan, leaving Khvàja Mu'ìn in Rayy. A battle between ˇughril’s troops and some Khwarazmian raiders took place in the valley of Khvàr-i Rayy; five Khwarazmian amìrs were taken prisoner (three—Miyàjuq, Íùtàsh, and Mu˙ammad Khàn—are named), and a great slaughter took place. ˇughril sent a certain Mukhliß-i Sa'd to bring Ìnànj Khàtùn to Hamadan, and wedded her with great pomp in Rama∂àn/ September. She remained there until some people hinted that she might do to ˇughril as she had done to Qizil Arslàn, whereupon he ordered her strangled with a bowstring. During ˇughril’s absence Majd al-Dìn 'Alà" al-Dawla, the ra"ìs of Hamadan, had taken his pleasure with one of the sultan’s favourites, a musician named Zaynab. ˇughril seized him; he turned over a large amount of gold to the sultan’s dìvàn, and ˇughril sent both him and the gold to Farrazìn (RS, 366–367). ˇughril’s state increased daily, and fortune favoured him. He took great pride in his strength; his mace weighed thirty mans, and he could kill a man and a horse with a single blow. He composed a boasting dubaytì in which he said: I am not the fruit of the shade-giving branch; in the eyes of the world’s sun I am not (even) dust. But if, on the heads of my disloyal foes, I do not put a woman’s veil, I am no man.26

“He did not put a veil on his enemies’ heads; but his enemies raised his precious head on the gibbet and turned the banner of his dawlat upside-down”, says Ràvandì. For this God unleashed His wrath against them, and brought them to ruin and destruction (RS, 368–369). In Mu˙arram 590/January 1194 ˇughril, fearing that Khwarazmian raiders were about to attack Rayy, took his army there. He was led to believe that Mu'ìn-i Kàshì was secretly corresponding with Siràj al-Dìn Qaymàz, who had been the vizier’s katkhudà; ˇughril had 25 The date is clearly an error; the year was 589/1193, as ˇughril was killed at the beginning of 590/1194. 26 ˇughril was well known for his skill in composing dubaytìs, which became widely popular, and which Ràvandì quotes in abundance.

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Kàshì seized and his property plundered, and replaced him with Fakhr al-Dìn b. Íafì al-Dìn Varàmìnì, “than whom there had been no more brilliant vizier since NiΩàm al-Mulk”. The sultan was busy with pleasure, and ignored the outlying regions. The Khwàrazmshàh, who “had inherited ingratitude from his father Atsiz, who had rebelled against Sanjar”, similarly violated the obligations of obedience, took up the parasol and called himself sultan, and, at the invitation of two or three princes, advanced on Iraq. ˇughril boasted of his strength; but none of the amìrs supported him or was loyal to him, and they continually wrote in secret to Qutlugh Ìnànj and his nobles saying, “When we march on Rayy, we will deliver the sultan to you, just as (happened) outside Hamadan.” Meanwhile the Khwarazmshah had reached Simnàn (RS, 370).27 Ràvandì introduces ˇughril’s final moments in rhymed prose and the figured style: “At dawn, when the castellan of the tin-plated fort seated himself in the white pavilion of the horizons, the sultan went to visit the religious leaders.” Suddenly Qutlugh Ìnànj rushed forward from a nearby ribà†; this threw the army into confusion. On 4 Jumàda II [590/21 April 1194] the sultan came out of the city and did battle. He ordered the left and right flanks and arrayed the centre. One engagement between the two sides took place. On the second, he attacked in his own blessed person, and threw himself into the midst (of the fray) . . . The troops suddenly abandoned the sultan, who remained in their midst with his parasol-bearer. He did not give way to them, while they attempted to kill the sultan, since they were angry with him and had suffered much (because of him). No horseman ever fell so easily into the hands of his foes as did such a ruler. They cast him down from his horse, cut off his head, and violated the sanctity of the sultanate. (RS, 371)

After appropriate verses, Ràvandì puts ˇughril’s death into a cosmic context, depicting the planets in mourning for him. “Now,” he says, “the worthless of the world and the tyrants of the age should see an object lesson in that ruler’s fate” (RS, 372).28 27 Abù Óàmid states that when Qizil Arslàn took over the sultanate, Takish “wished to recognize the rights of the Saljuq family and send help”, but was unable to do so because of his struggle with his brother. After Qizil Arslàn’s murder he “set out for Iraq, seeking the realm or, if not, to restore the sultan’s rights”. He sent to ˇughril saying that his name should appear in the khu†ba and on the coinage, after that of the caliph and before ˇughril’s. Finally, “it was agreed that Rayy should be left to him” (Nìshàpùrì, History, 161). 28 Abù Óàmid concludes: “After him (ˇughril) no creature in Iraq found rest,

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Ibn al-Athìr records these events sub anno 590/1193–94 (K, xii, 106–108), after noting his earlier mention of ˇughril’s escape from prison, occupation of Hamadan, defeat of Qutlugh Ìnànj, seizure of Rayy and return to Hamadan. Qutlugh Ìnànj asked the Khwàrazmshàh for help; when Takish arrived, Qutlugh Ìnànj regretted having summoned him, fled, and shut himself up in one of his forts. Takish occupied Rayy, besieged ˇabarak and took it in two days. ˇughril sent envoys and a truce was concluded; Takish placed a garrison in Rayy and returned to Khwarazm to deal with his rebellious brother Sul†ànshàh. Early in 590/1194 ˇughril attacked Rayy. Qutlugh Ìnànj sent to the Khwàrazmshàh “apologizing and asking for his help a second time”; a caliphal envoy also came to Takish with complaints about ˇughril, asking him to attack ˇughril’s territory and bearing a writ granting him that territory. Takish marched to Marv, where he was met by Qutlugh Ìnànj, who declared his obedience and proceeded with him. When Sultan ˇughril heard of his approach his troops were dispersed. He did not stop to gather them, but marched against him [Takish] with those who were with him. He was told, “What you are doing is not wise; the right way is to gather your troops.” But he rejected this (and he was courageous) and completed his march. The two armies met near Rayy. ˇughril threw himself into the midst of the Khwàrazmshàh’s army; they surrounded him, threw him from his horse, and killed him . . . His head was taken to the Khwàrazmshàh, who sent it to Baghdad that very day; it was fixed on the Bàb al-Nawba for several days.

The Khwàrazmshàh, supported by caliphal troops, marched on Hamadan and occupied the region. The caliph sent his (deputy) vizier, Mu"ayyid al-Dìn b. al-Qaßßàb, to Takish with the robes of the sultanate. Mu"ayyid al-Dìn camped a farsakh’s distance from Hamadan and, when the Khwàrazmshàh sent for the robes, told him, “You must come and don them in my tent.” Envoys went back much repose nor any justice” (Nìshàpùrì, History, 163). Óusaynì states that ˇughril was killed by Qutlugh Ìnànj and that his head was sent to the caliph in Baghdad (al-'Urà∂a, 176; compare 'Imàd al-Dìn in al-Bundàrì, Histoire, 302–303). See also 'A†à-Malik Juvaynì, Genghis Khan: The History of the World Conqueror, tr. J.A. Boyle, Manchester, 1997, 302–303, who states that when the Khwàrazmshàh learned that ˇughril had broken the treaty between them by seizing ˇabarak, he “set out for that region . . . in order to avenge himself on Sultan Toghril and resolve that problem”. He was met in Simnàn by Qutlugh Ìnànj, who killed ˇughril in the ensuing battle.

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and forth; the Khwàrazmshàh was told, “This is a trick to get you to come to him, so that he can arrest you.” Takish went, intending to seize Mu"ayyid al-Dìn, but he escaped and took refuge somewhere in the Jibal.29 Takish went to Hamadan, secured the region, put Qutlugh Ìnànj in charge, and divided much of the region up in grants to his mamlùks, over whom he placed Miyàjuq. Then he returned to Khwarazm. These are the events with which, one might think, Ràvandì’s next chapter should begin; but it does not.

The Khwarazmian Occupation of Iraq30 Ràvandì states that on 4 Rajab 590/25 June 1194 the Khwàrazmshàh, along with the Iraqi amìrs, reached Hamadan, where he sat upon the throne. He treated the Iraqis with contempt, removed their swords, appropriated all the wealth of Iraq, and “left no trace of prosperity”. He ordered that a palace (kùshk) be built for him; the amìrs transferred all the appointments of the (Saljuq?) palaces, and each built a palace for himself. The Khwàrazmshàh held court with great pomp; he sent the religious leaders of Hamadan gifts of jubbas and turbans, and divided up Iraq, giving Isfahan to Qutlugh Ìnànj, Hamadan to Qaràquz Atàbakì, and Rayy to his son Yùnus Khàn. Then he returned to Khwarazm. When he had reached Khwarazm “the great lord, Malik al-Umarà Ulugh Bàrbak Ay Aba— may God glorify his victory!”—sought to seize the fortress of Farrazìn. He ordered Qaràquz to rebel against Yùnus Khàn, while he himself rushed the fort and took it with the help of its occupants. When Takish returned he was unable to retake the fort, which Ay Aba repaired and strengthened; and “the support of his establishment and

29 Juvaynì states that the caliph “wished the sultan (the Khwàrazmshàh) to surrender Iraq or part of it to the Supreme Divan”; as he would not agree, the caliph sent his vizier with robes and gifts. The vizier (due to his “excessive officiousness and lack of wit and learning”) sent a message requiring the Khwàrazmshàh “to advance to meet the vizier with a small following and great humility and to proceed on foot in front of the vizier’s horse”; the Khwàrazmshàh, in response, dispatched his army, “and before the men of Baghdad had eaten supper they gave the vizier a taste of breakfast. He fled, bringing disgrace on the Caliphate, and the army pursued his forces as far as Dìnavar” (History, 303–304). 30 Ràvandì’s full rubric is, “The Khwàrazmshàh’s Occupation of the Kingdom of Iraq, Mention of (His) Wrongdoings and Description of the Pillage (Committed) by Him and His Army”.

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the ease of his sons—may he live till Resurrection!—is in that fort, and his household has remained there” (RS, 375–376). Qutlugh Ìnànj and the Iraqis set out for Hamadan, “where they demonstrated their rebellious nature”. Yùnus Khàn marched against them from Rayy. The Iraqis fled; Yùnus Khàn pursued them and the two sides engaged. The Iraqis, defeated, fled towards Baghdad, while the Khwarazmians and scattered Iraqi troops raided local villages and took their livestock. The Iraqis joined with the leader of the Turkmen tribe of Ayva, camped in his capital, and sent the Chief Óàjib, Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. Ma˙mùd Ganja"ì, with some Iraqi notables, to Baghdad. They returned with the caliphal vizier Mu"ayyid al-Dìn and a large force, plundered whatever was left in Iraq, re-equipped themselves and went to Rayy. Yùnus Khàn, unable to confront them, fled to Gurgan and informed his father of the situation. The “accursed Ràfi∂ìs”, led by their naqìb, opened the gates of Rayy; the Baghdadi army entered, killed most of the troops, and pillaged citizens and strangers alike. Then “the Iraqis rebelled against Mu"ayyid al-Dìn and shut themselves up in Rayy. No one in the lands of Islam had ever behaved so unmercifully, sparing neither the lives nor the property of Muslims” (RS, 376–378). Qutlugh Ìnànj and the chief Iraqi amìrs escaped and went to Àba, where they encountered the shi˙na and some Kurds. In the ensuing battle two amìrs were injured; the rest barely escaped with their lives. When Qutlugh Ìnànj and Ay Aba came to Hamadan to re-equip, Ay Aba visited Ràvandì’s uncle Tàj al-Dìn, who taught in a madrasa built by Ay Aba (one of whose virtues was his frequentation of, and respect for, religious scholars and pious men). Ay Aba took a prognostication from the Qur"àn which said: “Praise be to God Who has delivered us from the wrongdoers. O Lord, settle me in a blessed abode, for Thou art the best of settlers” (Q29: 29–30). He told Qutlugh Ìnànj, “My blessed abode is Farrazìn and Karaj; I will go there”, and left that very day (RS, 378–379). Qutlugh Ìnànj also went to Farrazìn. Ay Aba’s ghulàm, Sayf alDìn Tukuz, was guarding the Karaj Pass; when the vizier Mu"ayyid al-Dìn arrived there, Tukuz and his men abandoned everything and fled to Rayy. Mu"ayyad al-Dìn gave arms to officials, judges and nadìms, and told them that they must all strive bravely against the foe. Qutlugh Ìnànj marched on Rayy; Ay Aba went to his fort, as he disagreed with Qutlugh Ìnànj and rebuked him, saying, “This is a time of adversity. There is nothing to be gained by making trouble;

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one should retire into a corner until these miserable and inauspicious days have passed.” Qutlugh Ìnànj did not heed him, but went to Rayy, where he equipped himself “and coveted a realm which was not destined for him”. Mu˙ammad Khàn, Miyàjuq, and some other Khwarazmians sought an oath from Qutlugh Ìnànj so as to join his service. They made covenants, pretended to support him against the Khwàrazmshàh, “showed him friendship, and held their tongues”. Sultan ˇughril’s daughter (Yùnus Khàn’s wife) had conspired with them to avenge her father. The Khwarazmians advised Qutlugh Ìnànj to send a patrol to Sava; they had mounted troops readied, and they “cut off Qutlugh Ìnànj’s head like a sheep” (RS, 379–381; this was in Jumàdà II 592/May 1196). Ibn al-Athìr (still sub anno 590/1193–94) notes the Khwarazmian occupation of Iraq and briefly mentions Mu"ayyid al-Dìn’s promotion to the vizierate and the grant to him of Khuzistan, over which he took control in the following year (K, xii, 108–109). The year 591/1194–95 begins with the vizier’s occupation of Hamadan and other parts of Persian Iraq. After taking Khuzistan he went to Maysàn, where he was joined by Qutlugh Ìnànj and some of the Iraqi amìrs after their defeat by the Khwarazmians, led by Miyàjuq, at Zanjan. The combined forces proceeded to Kirmànshàhàn and thence to Hamadan; the Khwarazmians, led by Yùnus Khàn and Miyàjuq, fled to Rayy (K, xii, 109–111). The vizier and Qutlugh Ìnànj occupied Hamadan and secured various other regions; then they marched on Rayy. Pursued by the vizier’s troops, the Khwarazmians fled to Khvàr-i Rayy, then east as far as Jurjan; the troops returned to Rayy. Qutlugh Ìnànj and the amìrs, seeing the region empty of Khwarazmians and coveting it, rebelled against the vizier and entered Rayy. The vizier besieged the city; Qutlugh Ìnànj fled, and the caliphal troops entered Rayy and began looting until the vizier ordered them to stop. Qutlugh Ìnànj and his amìrs went to Àba, but the vizier’s shi˙na prevented them from entering. The vizier, pursuing them, learned that Qutlugh Ìnànj had camped in the Karaj Pass. He caught up with them, and there was a fierce battle; Qutlugh Ìnànj was defeated but escaped. The vizier went to Hamadan and camped outside it for nearly three months. “The envoy of the Khwàrazmshàh Takish arrived; [the Khwàrazmshàh] had marched against them, disliking (the vizier’s) taking his territory away from his army, and demanding its return and the declaration of a truce. The vizier did not respond, and the Khwàrazmshàh marched on Hamadan again.”

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Mu"ayyid al-Dìn “had died in early Sha'bàn”.31 In mid-Sha'ban there was a battle between the Khwàrazmshàh and the caliphal army; many on both sides were killed, the caliphal army was defeated, and the Khwarazmians took much booty. “The Khwàrazmshàh occupied Hamadan, disinterred the vizier, cut off his head and sent it to Khwarazm, pretending that he had killed him in battle.” Then he received news from Khurasan which obliged him to return there (K, xii, 111–2).32 We will hear more of these and other events, which Ibn al-Athìr also enters under 591/1194–5 (although they took place later), from Ràvandì. First, however, Ràvandì recounts what happened in Hamadan after Qutlugh Ìnànj’s murder (which Ibn al-Athìr does not mention). Its ra"ìs, Majd al-Dìn 'Alà" al-Dawla, remained Miyàjuq’s prisoner in Rayy. On 12 Jumàdà II 592/11 April 1196 Mu"ayyid al-Dìn installed himself, “with the greatest pomp”, in the Khwàrazmshàh’s palace in Hamadan, and appointed 'Imàd al-Dìn ˇùghlù governor of the city. Meanwhile “Tall Sunqur” (Falak al-Dìn Sunqur-i ˇavìl, the shi˙na of Isfahan) went to Isfahan with 2,000 soldiers and beheaded Íadr-i Khujandì, who had received honours from the caliph and who controlled the city (RS, 381; on Sunqur-i ˇavìl’s identity see note 6). According to Ibn al-Athìr (still sub anno 591/1194–95), the caliph’s army, led by Sayf al-Dìn ˇughril, had marched on Isfahan, then occupied by the Khwarazmians. Íadr al-Dìn Khujandì, the head of the Shàfi'ìs (who “controlled all the people of Isfahan”), had written to the caliphal dìwàn guaranteeing to deliver the city to whomever the caliph might send. The caliphal army, duly sent, camped outside Isfahan; the Khwarazmians fled towards Khurasan, pursued by some caliphal troops, who dispersed them, took what prisoners they could, and occupied Isfahan (K, xii, 117). Sub anno 592/1195–96 there is a notice of Khujandì’s death; there was enmity between him and Sunqur, the caliph’s shi˙na in Isfahan, and the latter killed him (K, xii, 124). Ràvandì states that when Mu"ayyid al-Dìn came from Rayy to Hamadan he occupied the Khwàrazmshàh’s palace. There his eye 31

This would make it appear that Mu"ayyid al-Dìn died in 591/1194–95, but it is clear from what follows, and from Ràvandì, that his death took place in early Sha'bàn 592/July 1196. 32 Compare Juvaynì, History, 307–308, who confirms that the vizier died a few days before the battle, and terms his disinterment and the sending of his head to Khwarazm “an act as unchivalrous as it was unworthy of a sultan”.

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fell upon an inscription bearing the latter’s titles, among them Kahf al-Thiqalìn (Refuge of the Oppressed). “Who was he to write that?” he exclaimed; “at once the place of those two words fell on the ground and shattered, and people were amazed.” Mu"ayyid al-Dìn had been ill when he arrived; he died in early Sha'bàn 592/1196. His death was the rest and relief of Muslims; for the people of Iraq feared the oppressive laws he had promulgated in Khuzistan, and the dihqàns’ property was not safe. He would ask for deeds and say, “The land belongs to the caliph; who dares claim ownership?” . . . In his time charitable properties became those of the state. What a base ruler, to covet the property of orphans and the money of widows, not satisfied with rule nor with seizing the wealth and property of orphans!

He was buried quickly and his death was concealed (RS, 381–382). Miyàjuq learned of this and informed Takish, who hastened to Rayy with several thousand troops, while Miyàjuq went to Hamadan. The Baghdadi troops did not reveal the vizier’s death, but resolved to fight, and did not move from the Khwàrazmshàh’s palace. Miyàjuq retreated so that the army would follow him, then turned around; a great battle took place, with many reverses, until at last Miyàjuq defeated the Baghdadis. They fled to Dìnavar (Miyàjuq was in Sàva) and plundered the property of the populace, villagers and Kurds. Miyàjuq came to the Khwàrazmshàh’s palace, disinterred Mu"ayyid al-Dìn’s body, beheaded it and sent the head to the Khwàrazmshàh. He sent messengers to the city warning the people not to rebel, “lest the city and the region be put to the torch”. The citizens replied, “We won’t let you enter the city until we’ve seen the sultan [i.e., the Khwàrazmshàh].” Miyàjuq besieged the city, plundered the livestock of the surrounding villages, and informed the Khwàrazmshàh of the situation (RS, 382–383). The Khwàrazmshàh came swiftly to Hamadan and settled in his palace. In mid-Sha'bàn 592/July 1196 he held court, sent messengers to Hamadan and said, “If you don’t believe it, send some trustworthy people so that they may see me, and surrender the city; otherwise I will take it and raze it to the ground.” No one dared go until an “intelligent young nobleman and general”, 'Imàd al-Dìn 'Ikrima, volunteered. He brought back “the son of Íàli˙” with a decree; still, no one believed this, and the populace tried to kill him, saying, “You’ll deliver the wives and property of Muslims to Miyàjuq.” Rukn al-Dìn the ÓàfiΩ mounted the minbar and swore that the Khwàrazmshàh was in his palace. The son of 'Alam al-Dìn the kha†ìb

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of Hamadan, along with Ràvandì’s brother, several members of Sultan ˇughril’s family, and other notables, went to the camp and waited on the Khwàrazmshàh. He recognised Íadr al-Dìn Kirmànì among them and said, “Praise God that you have seen me alive!” Íadr al-Dìn paid homage, apologised on behalf of the people, praised the Khwàrazmshàh and told him, “The people think Miyàjuq is a rebel.” The Khwàrazmshàh reassured them and said, “We respect the religious leaders more than the Iraqis do.” He ordered a crier to proclaim, “Let no one interfere with anyone; if anyone from our army does something improper, we give our permission to kill him.” The people were happy; the Khwàrazmshàh gave khil'ats to the Baghdadi prisoners and said, “We, too, are the caliph’s servants; if they wish they may stay here, if not, they may leave” (RS, 383–84). The Amìr-i Bàr’s nephew, Jamàl al-Dìn 'Alì, who had been pillaging the region, was tied to a tree and given sixty blows, and the Khwàrazmshàh ordered the plundered grain to be returned. Ràvandì states that the Khwàrazmshàh “was a strange person, changeable, a mixture (of qualities). Wherever he went he fell short of complete competence; he attended to affairs, but in the end brought them to ruin”. He ordered that any Iraqi wearing a Khwarazmian turban should be beheaded, because the Iraqis were raiding on the pretence of being Khwarazmians. “He commanded justice, but no one heeded.” While Takish was in Hamadan a caliphal envoy, Mujìr Baghdàdì, arrived; he was given robes of honour and gifts. When he said, “The caliph sends you greetings”, the Khwàrazmshàh rose and made obeisance. Then Mujìr delivered the caliph’s message: “We gave your father and grandfather a living, which we made over to you previously. Be content with that, and don’t make trouble; otherwise we will declare you a rebel, and people everywhere will rise to make holy war and shed blood.” The Khwàrazmshàh replied, “As the caliph commands. I am his shi˙na; I have many enemies, and am greater than all; I cannot be without an army. The chief of the dìvàn-i 'ar∂ has inscribed 170,000 horsemen in my army. This living is not sufficient for such an army; let him be generous, and make over Khuzistan to me, so that my troops will be provided for.” Mujìr left his presence; the next day he died in his bed. After Takish had sent the embassy back he put Yùnus Khàn in charge of Hamadan, appointed Íadr-i Vazzàn as qà∂ì, and went to inspect the province of Isfahan. Yùnus Khàn welcomed Íadr-i Vazzàn; the ra"ìs Majd al-Dìn 'Alà al-Dawla (who had been hiding among

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the Ayva Turkmens) secretly returned to Hamadan. Yùnus Khàn entrapped him with fine promises, seized him, and sent him to Takish in Isfahan, along with the deposit (muvà∂a'a) of Íadr-i Vazzàn, whose judgeship was secured. He performed his office with great ostentation. On 'Id-i A∂˙à he had the commanders and the city’s religious notables ride out with him to the mußallà, then took them to his own chambers, where he held a royal feast. He pawned a silver lamp from the congregational mosque of Hamadan for 1,000 dinars to pay for that feast. But “he took all those precious things with him to Hell. The mob plundered the food, and he felt the mace of Màlik; the mosque’s qindìl became a fiery chain which remained on the neck of that accursed Ash'arì”. Ràvandì describes how Iraq suffered under “impious religious leaders and oppressive Turks”. Not only were the tax regulations not observed, but religious offices—judgeships, teaching in the madrasas, custodianships and supervision of waqfs—were handed out as tax-farms (iq†à' ), “and such irreligious persons were put in charge of every region”. An excursus on proper government and the need for upright officials follows (RS, 386–387). Takish was again obliged to return to Khwarazm. Yùnus Khàn had been afflicted with a malady of the eyes. Ràvandì says, “I heard that on the same day that [ Takish] blinded the son of Malik Mu"ayyid,33 a black fluid entered [Yùnus Khàn’s] eyes; his [Takish’s?] eldest son’s skin burst into tatters, and he suffered until he went to Hell.” The Khwàrazmshàh had some sort of premonition. Outside Zanjan, he sent a messenger to the atàbak Abù Bakr, and wrote a few lines saying that he had important tasks in Khwarazm, and that the atàbak must take charge of Hamadan. The atàbak replied, “I am on the borders of the infidel; I cannot undertake this myself; I have sent my brother Uzbak.” When the Khwarazmshah reached Rayy, Uzbak arrived in Hamadan, where 'Izz al-Dìn Íatmàz, who had escaped from captivity amongst the infidel, waited upon him (RS, 387–388).34 Now Ràvandì introduces Nùr al-Dìn Kukja, “a brutal and tyrannical ghulàm [who] seized the province of Hamadan and committed more injustices than can be imagined . . . 'Izz al-Dìn Íatmàz and 33 Sanjarshàh b. Tughànshàh b. Mu"ayyid Ay Aba, who ruled Nishapur after Sanjar’s death; see RS, 387 n. 1; Juvaynì, History, 306–307. 34 Atàbak Abù Bakr was then campaigning against the king of Abkhàz; see RS, 388 n. 5.

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Malik Uzbak agreed to seize him; but Kukja learned of this, fled, pillaged the province of Hamadan, and robbed the caravan to Isfahan” (RS, 388; Ràvandì, like his contemporary Jarbàdhqànì, treats the former Pahlavànì mamlùk Kukja with the utmost contempt). Ibn alAthìr, sub anno 591/1193–94, states that when the Khwàrazmshàh returned to Khurasan (not Khwarazm) the Pahlavànì mamlùks and those of the amìrs agreed on Kukja’s leadership. They took control of Rayy and its surroundings, then went to Isfahan to expel the Khwarazmians. Nearing Isfahan, they heard that the caliphal troops were there, led by Sayf al-Dìn ˇughril, who had gone to Isfahan seeking the Khwarazmians, had pursued them when they fled, but had not caught them. The caliph’s army made for Hamadan; Kukja pursued the Khwarazmians as far as ˇabas, came back, occupied Isfahan, and sent to the caliph asking to be granted a number of other regions, with the revenues of Isfahan, Hamadan, Zanjan and Qazvìn going to the caliphal dìwàn. The caliph acquiesced and sent him the manshùr and robes of investiture; Kukja’s power, and his troops, increased, and he lorded it over his fellows (K, xii, 117–118). Jalàl al-Dìn Ay Aba was leader of the Iraqis; whatever prosperity was left in Iraq was because of him. Malik Uzbak made him his atàbak; he took control of the kingdom and gained complete respect and prosperous rule. 'Izz al-Dìn Íatmàz, angered that rule had gone to Ay Aba, went to Zanjan. In Rabì' I 593/January 1197 Ay Aba’s sons-in-law (the sons of the Qur"àn Reader and the son of Nùr alDìn Qarà) joined Uzbak’s service, with a thousand riders each. They ruled Hamadan; the provincial governor was the Qur"àn Reader’s son, who commanded justice. All this was by the order of Ay Aba, and Hamadan and the region became tranquil (RS, 388–389). The amìr-i 'alam was in Baghdad with Óusàm-i Jàndàr (the Bodyguard) and Nùr al-Dìn Óasan; Mu'ìn-i Kàshì was the caliphal vizier’s deputy. They asked the caliph to lend them the general Abù alHayjà ‘the Fat’ (al-Samìn) so as to attack Hamadan. The caliph wrote secretly to Abù al-Hayjà and ordered him to go to Hamadan and throw out “some people there”. When they arrived, Malik Uzbak shut himself up in the fort; they took Hamadan in an instant, and cast down the Qur"àn Reader’s son from his horse, but he managed to escape with the help of a Kurd. (This was in Jumàdà II 593/April 1197.) The amìr-i 'alam waited on Malik Uzbak, conveyed the caliph’s greetings, and presented the latter’s gift of a sword-belt. He then went on foot in Malik Uzbak’s train to his house, and the slaves

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and amìrs went to the house of the atàbak. After the turmoil had subsided Ay Aba left, because he did not trust the Baghdadis’ word (RS, 389–390). Ibn al-Athìr, sub anno 593/1196–97, relates that in Íafar/January one of the caliph’s chief amìrs, Abù al-Hayjà" (called ‘al-Samìn’ because of his bulk), who had recently held Jerusalem but had lost that city to the Ayyubids, arrived in Baghdad and was received with honours. He was ordered to equip troops and march on Hamadan ahead of the Baghdadi army. In Hamadan he met Malik Uzbak, the amìr 'alam and his son, Ibn Sa†mas (Íatmàz), and others, who had written to the caliph declaring their obedience. “They trusted him and were not wary of him. He seized Uzbak, Ibn Sa†mas and Ibn Qarà, with the agreement of the amìr 'alam.” When this news reached Baghdad Abù al-Hayjà" was rebuked and ordered to release the captives, to whom robes of honour and gifts were sent. The conspirators then deserted Abù al-Hayjà" al-Samìn, “who was afraid of the dìwàn, and did not return [to Baghdad]. But neither could he stay; he tried to go to Irbil, where he came from, but died before he could get there” (K, xii, 125). Meanwhile (says Ràvandì) Miyàjuq had prepared a trap for the heretics (malà˙ida). He pretended that he could not go to Khwarazm, that Uzbak had joined the Baghdadi army’s camp and he feared them as well, and that he wished to arrange for his safety among the Bà†inìs. They believed him, gave him a village, and put some of their chiefs’ houses at his disposal. He took them by surprise, killed them, took much loot and made for Hamadan, where he encountered the amìr-i 'alam and Abù al-Hayjà. For two days it seemed they would do battle. But one night the two latter fled to Burùjird; Miyàjuq looked around for them but then came back, since Kukja and Nàßir al-Dìn Àmghùsh had gone to Rayy, seized Miyàjuq’s treasury and killed his supporters. When Miyàjuq went to Rayy they fled. A few months later Malik Uzbak came to Hamadan. The atàbak Abù Bakr sent Kukja there, along with some others, to pay homage; Kukja was made governor, and committed unimaginable wrongs. “They tried to remove him; Kukja said, ‘I hold this by the sword, and will not let it go (his motto was “God and the sword”)’”. The atàbak was investigating Iraqi affairs; one of his informers, who held a position of confidence in Malik Uzbak’s household, revealed all to him. The atàbak was angered; he sent the son of qà∂ì Zayn to be the deputy atàbak and Malik Uzbak’s vizier. When the qà∂ì reached

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Hamadan he spent ten thousand dinars in ‘gifts’. Every day he entertained an amìr; his expenses were enormous, but “he got nothing out of that post other than its name and title” (RS, 390–391). Kukja marched against the Ayva Turkmens, fearing they might move first. Their chief sent a message to Malik Uzbak: “This slave has attacked the living bestowed on me by the caliph and the Khwàrazmshàh. If it is by your order, inform me; if not, to answer him is easy!” Malik Uzbak replied, “Repel him, for we did not order it.” Kukja knew there would be a battle; he made a few raids and came to Hamadan . . . where he caught the people napping and acquired great wealth. And all this oppression was (done) with the guidance [irshàd ] of the qà∂ì of Zanjan,35 that black fox, ruiner of religion, full of sin, Iblìs in the form of Idrìs, from head to foot dissembling [talbìs], who because of his judgeship knew about people’s wealth and property and put each person’s thread into the hands of the bailiffs, so that the wealth and property of Muslims lost its inviolability. For when these oppressors considered and learned the tricks of judges in the guise of the Law, they thought nothing of taking away the houses of Muslims . . . And that irreligious bailiff [a specific person seems intended here] demanded books [of accounts] from people, and acquired wealth on this pretext, since no one would send an account book [daftar] without adding money. If anyone refused, an inspection was imposed. But he did not last out the year, nor enjoy that wealth, but surrendered his soul to the guardian of Hell. (RS, 392–393)

In Mu˙arram 594/November-December 1197 Malik Uzbak had a son by the sultan’s daughter; they named him ˇughril, and the city was decked out in celebration. “But that wrongdoing which he [Malik Uzbak] brought about [in the next two years] in Hamadan exceeded that of all previous years.” Miyàjuq went to Isfahan, stirred up the Khwàrazmshàh’s troops, and went and besieged Kàshàn. The Kàshànìs, “like true heretics and rebels”, held out for four months; but at last Miyàjuq took the city and pillaged it. “When nothing remained on the ground, they tore down houses, dug up the earth, and took out so many buried treasures that people were astonished.” The same happened in Ràvand; the looted livestock and booty were sent to Khwarazm. “Not even the Ghuzz in Khurasan committed such depredations, or were as merciless as were the Khwarazmians with the Iraqis . . . It would take ten books to describe it.” The Ràfi∂ìs 35 The text has qà∂ì-yi Zanjànì, but see further below. It is not clear whether or not this is the ‘qà∂ì Zayn’ referred to earlier.

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of Kàshàn “incited those oppressors to pillage the province, bring (the loot) to the city, and sell it to them”. There follow imprecations against the Ràfi∂ìs (who, if left alone, will become Bà†inìs, just as a snake, if left alone, will become a dragon) in the course of which Ràvandì states that he has written a separate book refuting their beliefs (RS, 393–394). From Kàshàn Miyàjuq went to Rayy, intending to march on Hamadan. Malik Uzbak, Kukja, Nàßir al-Dìn Àghùsh and the amìr-i 'alam made for Qazvìn to engage Miyàjuq; they summoned Ay Aba to join them, but he refused, saying, “Whoever joins with you suffers some wrong, is ruined, and gains no victory; I certainly will not come.” Malik Uzbak replied, “I know of no wrongdoing; complain to Kukja.” Kukja said, “It’s Aytughmish who’s done wrong; guided by the qà∂ì of Zanjan, he’s mulcted every wealthy man in Hamadan . . . driven villagers from their homes, and pillaged all they owned, village by village.”36 Malik Uzbak declared that when he returned victorious to Hamadan he would uncover the truth (RS, 395). On 21 Rabì' II 594/31 January 1198 Miyàjuq arrayed his centre. The Khwarazmian women donned armour; each one of them drove back fifty Iraqi men. The Iraqis broke Miyàjuq’s centre and began looting; Miyàjuq’s wife went after them, Miyàjuq returned to the fray, the Iraqis were defeated, and the women killed more Iraqis than can be imagined. Malik Uzbak, Kukja and Nàßir al-Dìn Àghùsh went to Zanjan; Miyàjuq marched on Hamadan. “The incitement for this fitna” had come from the caliph, who had written recognising the Khwarazmshah as sultan and Miyàjuq (described with many inflated epithets) as the caliph’s absolute deputy. On 19 Rajab/27 May the Khwàrazmshàh camped outside Hamadan and received its religious leaders. He inquired about the city’s affairs; when he heard of the wrongs that had been done he cursed and vowed to restore justice and prosperity (RS, 396). The next day the Khwàrazmshàh’s decree was read in the presence of the ra"ìs and the religious leaders of Hamadan. It stated that Miyàjuq (again given many epithets and titles) “is our servant, and is well known for his justice. Our judgement decrees that he should be our deputy in all Iraq, and that he should carry out what we previously commanded”. Miyàjuq’s authority over military, civil and

36

Aytughmish was a favourite of Malik Uzbak; on him, see further below.

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religious officials was reconfirmed, and Óusàm-i Jàndàr was appointed provincial governor. “That worthless and ignoble one committed wrongs that no heretic or unbeliever would ever permit, and left nothing from Muslims’ blood or their property.” Miyàjuq, pretending that he intended to marry his (non-existent) daughter to Óusàm’s son, devised a ruse through which he obtained much money, valuables and goods from Óusàm when the contract (drawn up in the name of an “unknown” bride) was signed. Óusàm, in turn, mulcted this money from the judges and imams; but he “took that burden with him to Hell”, for the Khwàrazmshàh had him executed as an example to others, his wife died of grief, “and his son got not so much as a horse out of the affair” (RS, 396–397). Miyàjuq’s troops began pillaging Hamadan and the surrounding regions. Miyàjuq divided up the revenues of Iraq, claimed the sultanate, and travelled around Iraq looking for money. Since there was nothing left above ground, they dug up the ground and seized hidden hoards, and he acquired much wealth. Soon Miyàjuq controlled all of Iraq; the wrongdoings committed by him and his troops were unlike anything done by Abkhàzì infidels, Khi†ày Turks or Syrian Franks. There was no Muslim mercy in their hearts; they spilled men’s blood like water, and confiscated (the wealth of ) the madrasas (in a way that) no Zoroastrian, Christian, Jew or idol-worshipper would allow their fire-temples, churches, synagogues and idol-temples to be abused. They established a law [qànùn] throughout Iraq and mulcted the madrasas, mosques, and 'ulamà"; but this evil innovation [bid'at] was their own undoing. (RS, 398)

By now we are accustomed to Ràvandì’s litanies of abuse; but that does not mean they should be taken less seriously than, say, later accounts of the devastation wrought by the Mongols.37 Ay Aba, the amìr-i 'alam and several other amìrs gathered 4,000 horsemen and, with the help of the atàbak Abù Bakr, defeated Miyàjuq and secured Iraq. The atàbak wintered in Rayy. He had few soldiers; most were dispersed in search of livelihood. Íadr-i Vazzàn persuaded 37 There is, in fact, an important difference from the internal perspective: the Mongols were pagans and barbarians; the wrongdoers here were (at least nominally) Muslims, who made war on other Muslims and spared neither their lives nor their property. While some historians have noted the presence of pagan non-Muslims among the Khwarazmian troops, this point is not made by Ràvandì in his account (but see RS, 31, where he mentions “non-Muslim commanders”, although this may be merely a value judgement).

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him that Takish was planning a surprise attack, that he would defeat the atàbak as he had ˇughril, and that the atàbak must take precautions. The troops, alarmed, fled from their houses, and that night there was great turmoil in the city. The atàbak set off for Azerbayjan; the Khwarazmians once more occupied Iraq. Miyàjuq’s army went to Rayy and recommenced their wrongdoings. The Khwàrazmshàh came to Iraq; Miyàjuq, unable to oppose him, panicked and fled, pursued by Takish. Desperate, Miyàjuq hamstrung his beasts, threw his equipment in the water, fled to Rayy and shut himself up in the fort of Ardahàn. Takish finally forced him out; he was captured, and all of his cohorts were killed. Whereas in the past the Khwarazmians had always looted Iraq, this time there was nothing left to take, so they went to Qazvìn, pillaged the heretics, “left Iraq ruined and laid waste”, and ceased to covet the region. When Takish reached Khwarazm he turned against his vizier, who had been Miyàjuq’s protector, and ordered a heretic to stab him. He hung Miyàjuq upside-down on a cross and had it proclaimed throughout the city, “This is the fate of ingrates.”38 “But he, too, was punished for his ingratitude towards his sovereign [ˇughril]; and there was only two months between their deaths. The Iraqis, at ease and safe from enemies, rejoiced” (RS, 398–399). Sub anno 595/1198–99 Ibn al-Athìr states that in this year Takish marched on Rayy and other regions of the Jibal because he had heard that Miyàjuq had rebelled. Miyàjuq fled; Takish pursued him and ordered him to present himself, but he refused. Most of his supporters sought safe-conduct from the Khwàrazmshàh; but Miyàjuq fled to a fort in Mazandaran. He was finally brought out and taken to Takish, who, on the intercession of his (Miyàjuq’s) brother Aqja, ordered him imprisoned. The caliph sent robes of honour to Takish and his son Qu†b al-Dìn Mu˙ammad and confirmed his appointment over the regions he controlled. “He donned the khil'a and busied himself with fighting the heretics”, taking several of their forts; Íadr al-Dìn b. al-Wazzàn was killed in battle at Alamut. When Takish returned to Khwarazm the heretics killed his vizier. Qu†b al-Dìn Mu˙ammad attacked them but was forced to conclude a truce 38 On these events compare Juvaynì, who states that Miyàjuq was condemned to imprisonment for a year, and after that to spend the rest of his life fighting the infidel on the Jand border, and that the Khwàrazmshàh was much grieved by the murder of his vizier (in which he himself had no part) (History, 311, 313–314).

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because of Takish’s illness (K, xii, 152–153). Takish’s death is recorded under the next year (Rama∂àn 596/June 1200). “He was just and of good conduct, with learning both secular and religious; he knew fiqh according to the school of Abù Óanìfa, and also ußùl”. He was succeeded by his son Mu˙ammad, who took Takish’s title of 'Alà" al-Dìn (K, xii, 156–157). Ràvandì states that after Miyàjuq’s defeat, Malik Uzbak and Kukja harried the remaining Khwarazmians. The atàbak Abù Bakr came from Azerbayjan to Isfahan and divided up the realm, giving Hamadan to Malik Uzbak. Kukja was in Rayy. The atàbak had once seized him; Kukja had said, “I recognise no atàbak”, and boasted of his own strength and magnificence. The army followed him and obeyed him. Every day he would say, “Kingship was not bequeathed (in perpetuity) to the Saljuqs ˇughril and Sanjar, nor did (rule) remain to them. The sphere has laid the Khwarazmshah in the earth; and if rule does not remain to the Ildiguzids, no wonder. If they leave me what I hold by the sword, well and good; if not, we’ll fight, and let what will be, be . . . I have resolved on justice, and have turned towards the right; may God grant me His aid” (RS, 400). In Isfahan Malik Uzbak, “with his customary negligence”, was occupied with drinking and pleasure, and did not inquire about anything. Ay Aba kept things in order. The atàbak (Abù Bakr) ignored Kukja (who was his son-in-law), and no one could have imagined what was about to happen. Kukja’s state increased, and the atàbak had no troops. He thought, “I won’t fight Kukja, but will go to Hamadan. If Malik Uzbak deals rightly with him, we’ll make an accounting; and if not, who is he anyway?” People heard this and began to approach Kukja, saying, “The atàbak can’t resist you; take the kingdom, for you’ve won, and have devoured Iraq.” When the atàbak left Isfahan most of his army went over to Kukja, who, on reaching Hamadan, did not rest, but planned a surprise attack. The atàbak set out for Azerbayjan; the army deserted him. And of that wisdom and competence, that judgement and learning, that (giving of ) stipends and largesse, that conquering and striving, the less I say the better . . . He left revenues which fed mouths, and a tranquil kingdom, to the basest of persons; (every) Minglì, Yuvàsh, Chughàn, fulàn and bahman has triumphed over the thrones of sultans.39 How 39 The names—both personal and generic—refer to the Pahlavànì mamlùks who controlled Iraq. On Minglì, see further below.

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should one tell of their wrongdoings? For speaking of them is a shame to nature.

“What little good remains in Iraq is due to Aytughmish, who shouts and strives” and intends justice. But with these Pharaohs even Paradise would be troubled; and what can I say of those who are viziers and amìrs, or how utter their names? . . . They’ve acquired so much income and still don’t believe that they are rulers. What is revenue? They know wet and dry (seasons): wet, they graze the plains; dry, they descend on the heads of the poor and consume (all they have). Once there was a Muslim army who rebuked the Sufis for being mubà˙ìs, eating whatever came to hand; now, in truth, it is the Turks and troops in Iraq who are the mubà˙ìs, who leave nothing, consume the blood and property of Muslims, and consider it lawful. (RS, 402–403)

Ràvandì’s account ends here; he concludes with a plea to Sultan Kaykhusraw to send his armies to Iraq and restore the fortunes of the Saljuqs, whose noble and worthy heir he is. Sub anno 600/1203–4, Ibn al-Athìr reports that Kukja was killed in battle with his former protégé Aydughmish (Aytughmish), who took control of the region and ruled in the name of Malik Uzbak. “He [Aytughmish] was bold, courageous, and oppressive; Kukja was just and of good conduct” (K, xii, 195). He notes the death in Dhù al-Qa'da 600/July 1204 of Rukn al-Dìn Sulaymàn b. Qilij Arslàn, ruler of the Rùm Saljuqs, who was briefly succeeded by his minor son Qilij Arslàn (K, xii, 195–196); he in turn was deposed by Rukn al-Dìn Sulaymàn’s brother, Kaykhusraw, in the following year (K, xii, 200–201). (Ràvandì had originally intended to dedicate the Rà˙at al-ßudùr to Rukn al-Dìn, but changed his mind on learning that he was a usurper [RS, xix].)40 In 602/1205–6 'Alà al-Dìn the lord of Maragha and MuΩaffar al-Dìn Kukburì the ruler of Irbil decided to take Azerbayjan from the atàbak Abù Bakr “because of his (continual) drinking, night and day, and his neglect of the kingdom’s affairs”. They marched towards Tabriz; the atàbak called on Aydughmish 40 Iqbàl notes that “the first edition of this book was dedicated to Rukn-ud-dìan, but after his death in 601/1204–5 and Kaykhusraw’s restoration to the throne (from which he had been ousted by Rukn al-Dìn in 592/1196), the author was compelled to change his dedication. He therefore seems to have revised the book and to have made the alterations necessary to fit it for presentation to the new Sul†àn”— not very carefully, for there are still passages which refer to Rukn al-Dìn Sulaymàn (RS, xix–xx).

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(who was raiding the Isma'ilis) for assistance, and he came, accompanied by numerous troops. Aydughmish wrote to Kukburì rebuking him and pointing out the superiority of his own domains and troops; Kukburì abandoned the campaign and went back to Irbil.41 Abù Bakr and Aydughmish laid siege to Maragha; 'Alà" al-Dìn was obliged to make over one of his forts to the atàbak, who in turn granted him the tax-farms of Ustuwà and Urmiya (K, xii, 237–238). In the same year the atàbak Abù Bakr married a daughter of the Georgian king, in the hope of putting an end to the incessant Georgian raids on his territories. “And it was as the saying goes: he sheathed his sword and unsheathed his penis” (K, xii, 242). In Sha'bàn 603/March 1207 Ghiyàth al-Dìn Kaykhusraw took Antioch (sic) from the Franks (K, xii, 252–253); this was the event that made Ràvandì (so he states) determine to seek his patronage (see RS, 463; Ràvandì has, correctly, Antalya). In 604/1207–8 the atàbak Abù Bakr took Maragha after the death of its ruler 'Alà" al-Dìn (K, xii, 275). In Sha'bàn 608/January-February 1212 Manklì (Minglì) took control of Isfahan, forcing Aydughmish to flee to Baghdad, where he was received with great pomp (K, xii, 296); Ibn al-Athìr states that he has previously mentioned how Aydughmish’s power had increased to the point where he besieged his sovereign, the atàbak Abù Bakr.42 Ultimately Aydughmish was killed by Minglì’s men (in Mu˙arram 610/May-June 1213); the caliph sent a message rebuking Minglì, and received a strongly-worded reply (K, xii, 300–301). Minglì himself was killed in 612/1215 (see K, xii, 306–307). Abù al-Sharaf Jarbàdhqànì (Gulpàyigànì), writing in 603/1206–7, appended to his Persian translation of Abù Naßr 'Utbì’s Ta"rìkh alYamìnì an account of recent events in Iraq. Jarbàdhqànì had been a munshì in the dìvàn of Sultan ˇughril’s vizier Qavàm al-Dìn Dargazìnì before being forced to retire.43 His translation was commissioned by Jamàl al-Dìn Ay Aba’s vizier, Abù al-Qàsim 'Alì b. al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad b. Abì Óanìfa, who resided in Kàshàn. In his exordium Jarbàdhqànì praises Ay Aba for his justice, his compassion towards 41 This account is considerably more complicated, and involves major threats on Aytughmish’s part, coupled with Kukburì’s fear of him. 42 This is surely a mistake for the joint siege of Maragha by Aytughmish and Abù Bakr. 43 See K.A. Luther, ‘A new source for the history of the Iraq Seljuqs: the Tàrìkh al-Vuzarà"’, Der Islam 45, 1969, 118–119; C.L. Klausner, The Seljuk Vizierate: A Study of Civil Administration, 1055–1194, Cambridge, MA, 1973, 110.

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the populace, and his good works in Iraq. In 582/1186–87, “when the Saljuq sultanate in Iraq came to an end” with the death of Jahàn Pahlavàn, civil strife broke out among the rebellious Turkish mamlùks, and increased in intensity over the next twenty years. Ay Aba established himself in the fortress of Farrazìn and worked to preserve the noble family of the atàbaks. The Khàqàn-i A'Ωam, ‘King of kings of East and West’, Aytughmish married one of Ay Aba’s daughters; their mutual cooperation enabled them to maintain the atàbak Abù Bakr in place, and to fend off the armies of Syria, Armenia, Diyar Bakr and Khwarazm, who coveted Iraq.44 Jarbàdhqànì begins his account of the Saljuqs’ decline with the death of Jahàn Pahlavàn in 582/1186, the year of the great conjunction of all seven ‘planets’ in Libra. Jarbàdhqànì interprets the prediction of this conjunction figuratively, as indicating the change in the fortunes of the Saljuqs, who, having abandoned justice, no longer enjoyed divine support. His account of the events preceding Sultan ˇughril’s death does not completely accord with Ràvandì’s; he does not, for example, mention Qizil Arslàn’s imprisonment of ˇughril, and states that Qizil Arslàn was murdered by an Assassin.45 He presents ˇughril in a less favourable light than does Ràvandì; but he concurs with Ràvandì in depicting Kukja as a thug who “found the field of Iraq empty and took control of it . . . Because he had no weapon but the sword, and was ignorant of the customs of kingship, he elevated some persons, but in the end he was killed by them.” Jarbàdhqànì states that his account contains object lessons which show “that in the face of God’s decree men’s plans are in vain”, and that one must take refuge in God alone and “cling to lofty aspiration, right belief and praiseworthy conduct”. Because the “just ruler” Ay Aba did so, he and his sons have enjoyed God’s protection.46 An example of God’s grace towards Ay Aba was his release from imprisonment by ˇughril, who had also killed his son-in-law Alp Arghùn ( Jarbàdhqànì was at court when these events took place, in 589/1193): “God caused a commoner of Kàshàn, in the bazaar of Hamadan”, to remark that Jahàn Pahlavàn had bought Ay Aba for two or three hundred dinars, and to exclaim, “Would that the Sultan would sell him to us for a hundred thousand!” A passing 44 45 46

Jarbàdhqànì, Tarjuma, 3–6. Jarbàdhqànì, Tarjuma, 426. Jarbàdhqànì, Tarjuma, 428–430.

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courtier heard this and informed ˇughril, whom God inspired in a dream to a change of heart; and, fearing it would earn him a bad name should he harm someone of such good repute, he freed Ay Aba.47 Jarbàdhqànì echoes Ràvandì’s description of the afflictions suffered by Iraq: all the old families perished, their houses were pillaged and their belongings sold off cheaply; the roads were unsafe because wild beasts had made their homes in the fields and the abandoned houses of the peasants. There were frequent famines in which many perished, especially the poor. The custom of officialdom [khvàjagì] and of wearing the turban vanished, and the sons of officials turned to disobedience and idle ways, changed their garments from those of their fathers and forefathers, and abandoned their pens and inkwells for knives and swords. Mischiefmakers and corrupt people triumphed, affairs fell out of order, and wise men wished for death.

Jarbàdhqàn shared in these afflictions, because it was located between two capitals and near several forts, and was each year given in grant to “two or three oppressive grantees . . . who left nothing of Muslims’ lives or their property”. Most of its inhabitants abandoned the town and went abroad; but God heeded the cries of the poor, and, thanks to Him, the region’s administration fell to Ay Aba and his vizier, who took pity on its inhabitants, showed their piety and restored justice and order.48

Conclusion What can we conclude about the relative paucity of information provided by Ibn al-Athìr about this period of Saljuq (and Iraqi) history? To assume that, from his western vantage point, his interest in Persian Iraq was minimal would probably be incorrect. Lack of sources seems an obvious problem: Saljuq historiography is sparse, and Arabic sources are even sparser.49 Ibn al-Athìr was a serious historian; when he had sources he used them. His accounts of affairs

47

Jarbàdhqànì, Tarjuma, 431–432. Jarbàdhqànì, Tarjuma, 432–434. 49 See Meisami, Persian Historiography, 141–145; on the sources for Saljuq history see C. Cahen, ‘The Historiography of the Seljuqid period’, in B. Lewis and P.M. Holt, eds, Historians of the Middle East, London, 1962, 57–78. 48

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in the Jazìra, Syria, Egypt, Sicily and the Maghrib for the same period are considerably more detailed, since there were Arabic sources available (and, presumably, eyewitness accounts as well, although to what extent Ibn al-Athìr relies on such accounts is not clear). His main sources for early Saljuq history (on which he is considerably more detailed) were 'Imàd al-Dìn’s Nußrat al-fatra and Ibn Funduq’s Mashàrib al-tajàrib;50 but he must not have been able to access such later Persian sources as Nìshàpùrì, Ràvandì or Jarbàdhqànì.51 Some of his information seem to be derived from †abaqàt works, especially those dealing with the Shàfi'ìs. What does Ràvandì have to tell us about the Saljuqs themselves? First, he puts paid to the myth of the Saljuqs as revivers and supporters of ‘orthodox’ Sunnism and the Sunnì caliphate. While he himself (following Nìshàpùrì) praises the early Saljuqs for their support of religion and religious scholars, and attributes their decline to the malign influence of persons of “bad belief ” (see RS, 29–33), his history shows little commitment on their part to Sunni ‘orthodoxy’ (except for the occasional bout of heretic-bashing), and an ongoing relationship of antagonism with the caliphate. (We may also note how frequently Ash'arìs—who, according to much Western scholarship, were supposedly dominant in this period—are lumped together with Shàfì'ìs, Shiites [‘Ràfi∂ìs’], and ‘heretics’.) What we see is a power struggle in which the caliphs’ overwhelming desire was to get rid of the sultans (and their atàbaks) so as to regain the power that had been lost to them since the Buyid period.52 The major difference between Ràvandì and Ibn al-Athìr is one of perspective and of purpose. Ibn al-Athìr is writing general history, with, one senses, an eye not only on his patron but on posterity.

50

See Cahen, ‘Historiography’, 64–67. Or, for example, Najm al-Dìn Qummì’s Tarìkh al-Vuzarà, a continuation of the so-called ‘memoirs’ of the vizier Anùshìrvàn ibn Khàlid, which were used by 'Imàd al-Dìn (on Qummì’s work see Luther, ‘New source’). 52 This, indeed, is the opinion of G. Makdisi; see for example, ‘Les Rapports entre calife et sul†ân à l’époque saljûqide’, IJMES 6, 1975, 233–236. Makdisi, however, confines himself to the early period, when as he notes, the Saljuqs’ ‘Islamic policy’ depended on their viziers, who in turn depended on the 'ulamà" whose support they needed (233). This is not applicable to the later Saljuq period, when the power (and competence) of viziers generally decreased, while that of the atàbaks increased. For a detailed refutation of the notion ‘that Ash'arism became the orthodoxy of Islam in the eleventh century’ see G. Makdisi, 'Ash'ari and the Ash'arites in Islamic religious history’, Studia Islamica 17, 1962, 37–80. 51

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Ràvandì is writing dynastic history, with a view especially to presenting the causes of the Saljuqs’ collapse, and most definitely with an eye on his dedicatee, Sultan Kaykhusraw, whom he exhorts time and time again to restore the Saljuqs’ fortunes. Where Ibn al-Athìr dons the mask of the sober historian, Ràvandì is the impassioned propagandist. The depiction of the catastrophic state of affairs in Iraq, the negligence and incompetence of its atàbaks, the domination of thugs like Kukja, is surely geared to this end. We might accuse him of exaggeration and distortion, were he not so closely echoed by Jarbàdhqànì. Here I have been obliged to omit many telling anecdotes which add to both the specificity and the vividness of Ràvandì’s account; it is this specificity and vividness, coupled with the personal tone which marks these two chapters, that makes the Rà˙at al-ßudùr an important and unequalled source for the history of Persian Iraq on the eve of the Mongol onslaught.

MAMLUK SGRAFFIATO WARE: THE POWER OF THE NEW George T. Scanlon (Cairo)

In an earlier article we demonstrated that a certain type of glazed redware ceramic dominated the contents of a stratigraphic cut into the mounds at Fustat.1 These mounds (Pl. 1) represented the debris of Cairo after the abandonment of the site in 1171 AD. Kubiak has proved that the greater part of Fustat was abandoned and that probably only the part adjacent to the river was put to the torch as it contained the warehouses, customs station and merchants’ buildings.2 The clay was of the typical riverain variety which had been used for millennia; highly levigated with solid occlusions and of a reddish brown hue after firing (see Colour Plate 1). Between c. 750 and 1171 such a clay was rarely used for vessels to be glazed: here the preference was for the buff-brown to white tonalities and the more recently achieved white frit created by the Fatimid potters at the very end of the eleventh century.3 In the thirteenth century and later, this frit would be used in Imitation Sultanabad (Colour Plate 2) and imitation of Chinese blue-and-white wares, both far superior technically and artistically to Mamluk sgraffiato wares. But now with the new Ayyubid dispensation and its successor Mamluk regimes this red clay surges into prominence. More than any other it carried the very important, distinctive and particular motifs associated with the new rulers: Naskhi inscriptions, heraldic devices and a greater range of anthro- and zoomorphic representations that had hitherto been associated with metalware. It is now

1 G.T. Scanlon, ‘The Fustat Mounds: A Shard Count’, Archeology 24, 1971, 220–233. Hereinafter Shard Count. 2 W.B. Kubiak, ‘The Burning of Misr al-Fustat in 1168: A Reconsideration of Historical Evidence’, Africana Bulletin, 1976, 51–64. 3 V. Porter and O. Watson, ‘“Tell Minis” Wares’, in J. Allan and C. Roberts, eds, Syria and Iran: Three Studies in Medieval Ceramics, 1987, 175–191. For the Egyptian background of this phenomenon: G.T. Scanlon, ‘Fustat Fatimid Sgraffiato: Less than Lustre’, in M. Barrucand, ed., L’Égypte Fatimide: son art et son histoire, Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 1999, 265–283. Hereinafter FFS.

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agreed that the first two (Naskhi and heraldry) can be considered imports from Syria while the last might be considered a ‘popularising’ of the ‘princely’ scenarios familiar to us from the Fatimid wooden panels now in the Islamic Museum in Cairo.4 Secondly there seems to have been an ‘opening up’ of the repertoire of shapes used with this newer redware.5 Some of these vessels were closer approximations to metalware shapes than had been common in the Fatimid period. Others were ‘assertively profiled’ as a response to the finely potted Cypriot wares imported into Egypt throughout the Mamluk period. These were on high flaring rounded feet and jutted out sharply from an articulated base and may have carried an external ribbing from which again the side jutted out sharply to a rounded or flanged rim (Fig. 1). It is interesting to note that the Cypriot models are very finely potted, displaying a minimum of levigation which means that the clay itself was closely worked before going to the wheel (Colour Plate 3) while the Mamluk copies are of clays that are seldom “cleaned” before being turned on the wheel. Older shapes such as the biconic emphasised by Mason in his study of Egyptian Islamic ceramics6 continue, but the decoration they carry is not as sumptuously various and distinctive. Finally it is in this decoration that distinctions compel the eye to recognise the ‘different’ taste. There is the almost absolute dominance of Nashki inscriptions in all metiers of artistic expression. We need only recall this eminence on Mamluk enamelled glassware, particularly on mosque lamps, to feel its resonance on ceramics. That these redware vessels also carried distinctive heraldic devices of the owner along with the name of the regnant Sultan make this ware seem the exclusive defining expression of the Mamluk elite. However, because certain Fatimid decorative ideas are found as background to the Naskhi inscriptions,7 we believe this newer style/aesthetic/taste to have commenced under Ayyubid patronage sometime before 1200 AD. After that approximate date Fatimid taste is for art historical purposes expunged. 4

E. Pauty, Les Bois Sculptes jusqu’à l’Époque ayyoubide, Cairo, 1931, pls. XLVI–LVIII. G.T. Scanlon, ‘Some Mamluk Ceramic Shapes from Fustat: “Sgraff ” and “Slip”’, Islamic Archaeological Studies 2, 1980, 59–145. Hereinafter MSS. 6 R.B. Mason, ‘Medieval Lustre-Painted and Associated Wares: Typology in a Multidisciplinary Study’, Journal of the American Research Centre in Egypt 34, 1997, 201–243. 7 FFS, 282 and Fig. 8. 5

  :     

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There are a few considerations to account for before we take leave of the subject: First: since the production c. 1200–1500 was so immense, one is left pondering whether the ware was made exclusively for a Mamluk clientele, or did it filter down to a larger one towards the end of the period? If so, did the heraldic devices carry the same connotations, or had they become simply and commonly decorative? Both Mayer and Meinecke agree that this latter possibility cannot obtain for vessels with heraldic devices or those carrying amirial and/or sultanic formulae. The very complexity of the devices within the fielded shields makes any patronage other than Mamluk (persons not mere chronology) outside our consideration. Second: it became clear in the course of the excavations carried out under the auspices of the American Research Center in Egypt that the vast majority of our shards demonstrated very poor potting: lugubrious composition of the clay, extremely thin slipping through which the incised design was but roughly outlined and very thin glazing such that the glaze very easily parted from the vessel. If this latter process was true in the life of the vessel, were the replacements as slovenly produced? Third: taking the above into consideration, some vessels were most carefully crafted and exhibited powerful aesthetic effects. A particularly fine incomplete bowl has been published.8 The pseudo-inscription is done in a style familiar to us from Iranian metalware and in such a way that it stands in relief as in champlevé, while the underside of the flange rim is decorated with a very distinguished leaf-andtendril pattern again with the effect of champlevé. When one adds that the clay is very finely wrought and turned one feels in the presence of something created for an important and ‘tasteful’ patron. Paradoxically (or not!) whenever one is confronted with this champlevé mode the vessel is very finely conceived. It would seem from the number of samples encountered in the Fustat mounds, that the technique was paralleled in imported redwares from Cyprus and Anatolia where great attention is given to the clay ( pate) and its artistic turning on the wheel. Could it be possible that we are in the presence of two levels of production of Mamluk Sgraff: one for the upper echelons of the ruling elite, the other for les autres but still ‘in the style of ’? 8

Shard Count, 228 upper left.

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Lastly: no matter how sloppily Mamluk Sgraff was achieved, its motival variety alone makes it interesting. It was the dominant ceramic for two centuries at least and in its decorative essence it was obviously akin to other metiers demonstrating the dominant aesthetic of the Mamluk period. However, to mix a metaphorical clue, Mamluk Sgraff ceramics were to contemporaneous gilded and enamelled glass and metalware as stepsister to Cinderella. It is our purpose here to add examples which clarify the motifs or substantiate and/or adumbrate the findings of earlier art historians interested in Mamluk Art. We will present them as falling under the general categories of heraldic devices, the hunt and zoomorphic variety with two small miscellaneous examples which seem important.

Heraldic Devices No one strove more to delineate and demarcate the norms and exempla of Mamluk Heraldry than Mayer; indeed all work subsequent to his (particularly Meinecke’s) either supports his findings or, taking advantage of archaeological and scriptural resources unknown to him, simply adds to his repertoire or strives for a ‘reasonable theory’ for the chronology of the devices.9 Our examples strengthen his presuppositions whilst presenting a conundrum which might have amused him. Mace. When he published Saracenic Heraldry Mayer was not certain of this device, thinking it some form of trumpet. Subsequently he discovered examples similar to the one he now knew he had misread.10 In the light of his later confidence about the mace it becomes interesting to realise that the device was used alone (unshielded in SH, pl. XIIb–1) or triply within an overall centring shield (SH, pl. XII–5). The essential difference is that whereas the blare of the trumpet is triangular, the final element of the mace is quadrangular or ‘spade’-like. Also, where he found a name associated with the macebearer ( jumaqdar), he could not further identify the holder.

9 M. Meinecke, ‘Zur Mamlukischen Heraldik’, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archälogischen Institutes. Abteilung Kairo, 28/2, 1972, 213–287. Hereinafter Meinecke. 10 L.A. Mayer, ‘A New Heraldic Emblem of the Mamluks’, Ars Islamica 4, 1973, 349–351.

  :     

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Figure 2 and Plate 2 Rim fragment of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. On the interior a mace slanted to the right in a possibly rounded, rectangular field bound by a portion of inscription and register of floral motif; all under a transparent green glaze. Exterior undecorated under a transparent brown glaze. App. 9.0 × 9.0cm; thickness 1.0cm. Reg. no. 73.9.1. 14/15th century. AUC. The example from Fustat cited by Mayer from the Boston Museum of Fine Arts has exactly the same odd type of shield as ours which must be indicative of when the mace is used other than as the centring device of the vessel. Trumpet. Mayer published four examples of this device (used singly, SH pl. XII–2, 3 and 4; and repeated three times within a centring shield, SH pl. XIII–6). Its characteristics are the triangular bell and the two knobs between it and the mouthpiece. Once again he was unable to associate an amir with the device. Figure 3 and Plate 3 Central fragment and attached high ring base of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Trumpet in centre of three-fielded centring shield, motif outlined in brown slip; exterior painted in brown slip; all under a clear yellow glaze. Base dia. 6.5cm; ht. base 2.1cm. Reg. no. 68.9.10. 14/15th century. Kelsey. Our example is straight within the field whereas Mayer’s two examples slant downward to the right (SH pl. XII–2 and 4). A complete and rather beautiful Mamluk Sgraff bowl bears the trumpet device in a round shield placed parallel to the outer fields of a round shield (presently in the collection of the Egyptian Embassy in Washington; it carries the name of the potter (Sharaf al-Abwani, infra).11 Another twice-published example slants downward to the left (CME, pl. XLIX– 10 and CEEM, pl. 142 top right).

11

E. Atil, Renaissance of Islam: Art of the Mamluks, Washington, 1981, 188–189.

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Polo Mallets. Our examples add nothing to Mayer’s explanation of the device except that both are in centring round shields. Like his examples, one of ours has the two balls while the other does not. What this says about the office of polo-master ( jukandar) (balls + mallets = master; mallets alone = assistant?) cannot be solved at this pitch of research. Figure 4 and Plate 4 Central fragment and attached high ring base splayed outward of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Internal central round shield of two polo mallets with two polo balls each on the side of a mallet; all in reserve of a brown slip field under a clear brown-yellow glaze which covers the undecorated exterior and base. Base diameter 9.0cm.; dia. central shield 9.3cm. Reg. no. 73.9.2. 14/15th century. AUC. Figure 5 and Plate 5 Central fragment and attached high straight-sided ring base. Internal central round shield of two polo mallets in reserve of a green slip field under a clear yellowish glaze which covers the undecorated exterior and base. Base diameter 9.0cm.; dia. central shield 8.0cm. Reg. no. 64.5.100. 14/15th century. Akron. Sword and Crescent/Horseshoe. The combination of the devices for the swordbearer (silahdar) and the stable-master (amir al-akhur) was one of the earliest composite devices and, according to Mayer, disappeared with the introduction of the composite blazon on a three fielded shield (SH, 13 and 25). In his examples the crescent appears with one sword (SH, pl. XI–3), with two (SH, pl. XI–1 and 2; for yet another example see CEEM, pl. 142 upper right) or with sword seemingly imposed on the crescent which acts as a round shield (SH, pl. XI–7). Mayer says very little on the combination, so one must conclude that the offices were held simultaneously at least for part of the time. Our examples rather strengthen Mayer’s findings. Figure 6 and Plate 6 More than half of Mamluk Sgraff bowl, biconic in shape with high straight-sided ring base. Internal central round shield with two swords and an incomplete crescent between, reserved within a roundel of

  :     

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dark-brown slip with concentric curves below the rim; all under a clear light-green glaze which also covers exterior and base including an external rim design of an imprecisely spaced squiggled motif. Rim dia. 17.0cm.; base dia. 6.2cm.; ht. 9.0cm. Reg. no. 65.3.61. 13/14th century. Princeton. Figure 7 and Plate 7 Central fragment and attached splayed ring base. Internal threefielded circular shield with two tasselled swords with rough crescent between, all painted in brown slip in central field under a clear green glaze which also covers the undecorated exterior and foot. Base dia. 7.0cm.; dia. of central shield 9.0cm. Reg. no. 65.1.30. 13/14th century. Kelsey. Cup. The high incidence of this device for the cup-bearer (saqi ) singly and in compound and composite blazons makes it impossible to date the device without inscriptional assistance (SH, 11–12 and especially 30). It may be the one device which appears during the entirety of the Mamluk Sultanate. Our example is distinctive only in its conjunction of decorative motifs. Figure 8 and Plate 8 Matching fragments of an incomplete Mamluk Sgraff bowl where height and decorative schema are ascertainable. Internal decoration of: a) presently unreadable fragments of a Naskhi inscription; b) a group of what was originally four fishes swimming to the left; c) a circular band of lightly incised pseudo-inscription; and d) a central round shield containing a cup with a single bar above. Except for (c), all decoration painted in light- and dark-brown slips under a clear light-yellow decoration. Most of the external decoration has flaked off. Rim dia. 20.0cm.; base dia. 6.0cm.; ht. 10.0cm. Reg. no. 65.4.37. 14/15th century. Princeton. Pointed Shield. Except for the oddly shaped surround of the mace noted above, there are rarely but two shield shapes as defined by Mayer: the circular and the pointed (SH, 27; except for the composite blazons, the other shapes illustrated are very rare). Missing from his survey is the vertically fielded pointed shield. The one he shows with the vertical sword in the centre field and two slanting

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small triangles in the right field (SH, 27 second row on far left) seems not to be explained elsewhere. Thus our example is unique and poses the question whether the holder of the device was a manumitted Mamluk but still in training for a higher iqta' or for a more specific office. Figure 9 and Plate 9 Three unmatching ring fragments of a large Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Internal decoration in two registers: upper narrow band of scrolling in champlevé; and a much wider band of Naskhi inscription which is unreadable except for the word al-'umari in the largest fragment which also contains a squiggling line of incision and an approximate circle; the inscription on the largest fragment is separated by a pointed vertically three-fielded shield, the outer fields and the inscription in brown slip under a clear yellow glaze. The exterior carries decoration in two main registers: in the upper an inscription unreadable except for 'umila al-'abd in yellowish slip and below the break-rib of the profile a register of scrolling in champlevé all under a clear brown glaze. On the smallest of the fragments the word sharaf can be read. Orig. rim dia. 27.5cm.; ht. largest fragment 11.0cm. Reg. no. 66.4.79. 14th century. IM. The word sharaf has been associated with the potter Sharaf al-Abwani whose name appears on many Mamluk Sgraff vessels of which one in particular (CME, pl. L upper right) carries the phrase 'umila sharaf with the third word undecipherable. However each word is accompanied by a rough circle comparable to the one on the interior of our vessel. Yet another example from the 1978 season (Fig. 10 and Pl. 10) carries the same potter’s name in highly conspicuous Naskhi: 'umila sharaf appears externally and internally, the three balls together separating the internal inscription (Colour Plate 4), a collective as it were of the three dispersed balls in the example cited above. (Rim dia. 24.0cm. Reg. no. 78.9.16. 14th century. IM.) To this disparate evidence one must add an example in the Luxor Museum which indeed carries the name Sharaf al-Abwani in large Naskhi letters.12 If the three balls, together or dispersed, mark a potter’s work and

12

The Luxor Museum of Ancient Egyptian Art, Cairo, 1978, 121.

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when together act as an heraldic device (which looks very like the Ottoman cintimani decorative device), we could be facing a real novelty in Mamluk adab. Could he have achieved enrolment in a Mamluk corps?13

Hunting Hunting was considered one of the courtly pursuits in the medieval Islamic world. This would be more than significant within a military cavalry-based government. The elements and personnel of the chase/hunt (shikar) are fully represented in Mamluk metalware, enamelled glass and, less frequently, in ceramics. Such an entourage of motifs include the hunter and his suite, the animals employed on the hunt, the prey and its probable disposition.14 It is our purpose here to discuss certain of these characters as they appear in Mamluk Sgraffiato ceramics to give a sense of the distinctive motival fertility within the genre and to convey an important aspect of the life of a Mamluk amir. Relative to the research results of Mayer and Meinecke, it would appear that the huntsman (shikardar) was not accorded an heraldic device/symbol implying that the activity lacked official significance within a very hierarchical system or that the organisation and execution of the activity were left to sundry amirs and their entourage as the occasion arose. Mounted Hunter/Falconer. We lack a complete example in Mamluk Sgraff comparable to the splendid example in Fatimid lustre.15 But our fragments are sufficient to permit confirmation that the activity persisted into the subsequent epoch. The examples presented here lack the precision of detail found in the Fatimid examples and in

13 W.M. Brinner, ‘The Murder of Ibn an-Nasu: Social Tensions in FourteenthCentury Damascus’, Journal of the American Oriental Society 77, 1957, 207–210. This man began as a grain-sorter, became a miller and eventually a trader (simsar) in grains. He became an amir (of the third rank) and manipulated grain prices to such an extent that he was stoned to death by the populace. One wonders if he had an heraldic device. 14 Most of these themes and personnel are represented most beautifully on the Baptistère de St. Louis, the masterpiece of Mamluk metalware. It is illustrated and discussed in Renaissance of Islam: Art of The Mamluks catalogue cited as n. 10, 76–79. 15 A. Lane, Early Islamic Pottery, London, 1947, pl. 27–b. Hereinafter EIP.

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other Mamluk decorated wares, particularly metalware; thus we risk error in assigning presence on the hunt to the incised persons. But as no representation of martial confrontation exists in pottery, we feel that our examples must be considered as on parade or on the hunt. Figure 11 and Plate 11 Wall fragment of Mamluk Sgraff bowl; internal decoration of a cavalier wearing a flattened turban and an outer garment which parts to reveal a foot in the stirrup; the head is turned to the right and the right hand is raised in signal or salute while the left hand points down from the elbow; the horse’s right foot is raised and a hand comes from the left possibly touching the horse’s head; incised with touches of light-brown slip under a clear yellowish glaze. No external decoration under the same glaze.16 Pres. max. dimensions 8.0 × 8.0 × 1.1cm. Reg. no. 68.10.1. 13/14th century. Kelsey. The drawing is even more schematic than that found for comparable scenes in enamelled glass. There are no reins in the cavalier’s hands as both are otherwise engaged. Further, no bit is shown as part of the head harness. This leaves the problem of the intrusive hand touching the horse’s head unresolved. The flattened turban and the long outercoat help to suggest the outdoor apparel of a Mamluk. Figure 12 and Plate 12 Wall fragment of Mamluk Sgraff bowl; internal design of headless cavalier turned to the right while mount proceeds to left, appears to be holding a rope (or rein?) with thumb and three fingers while an extended fourth is pointing to the right against a background of squiggled lines with touches of green slip under a clear light-green glaze. No external decoration under same glaze. Pres. max. dim. 9.0 × 8.0 × 1.5cm. Reg. no. 64.3.6. 14/15th century. Princeton. Based on the squiggled line background our figure resembles CME, pl. LI–2, though ours lacks any detail in the tunic. The figure in

16

Published: Shard Count, pl. 1–e.

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CME is clearly a falconer as the bird can be seen in the fragment; if our figure is also a falconer, he is holding the bird by a rope/rein as distinct from the more usual contact at the wrist. Another example from our excavations (Fig. 13 and Pl. 13) would seem to fit into this group except that it is difficult to decide whether the headless person inscribed is astride or standing and whether the motif below the left elbow is part of the costume. (Reg. no. 64.3.1. 14/15th century. Princeton.)17 Birds of Prey. Although the falcon was most precisely delineated in Fatimid lustre, with the delineation in Mamluk Sgraff one is a bit unsure. Mayer was certain that the eagle was an heraldic device (SH, 9–10) and Meinecke found it peculiarly associated with Malik al-Nasir Qala'un.18 It was also the pre-eminent bird shown as having ‘landed’ on the prey; and like the lion attacking the bull may have symbolised more than the activities of the hunt. Our examples lack the completeness or precision of depiction to allow for certitude of faunal attribution. Figure 14 and Plate 14 Large fragment including the splayed ring foot of a Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior design of an eagle, whose outstretched wings seem inordinately short for the body, alighting on the body of the prey which could be an animal (such as a gazelle) or another bird (such as a duck or turkey; cf. CEEM, pl. 139 left); all in champlevé technique under a transparent light-yellow glaze; a transparent brown glaze covers the undecorated exterior. Base dia. 7.0cm. Ht. of base 1.5cm. Reg. no. 71.11.17. 14th century. IM. In the interior of an Imitation Sultanabad bowl, whose shape can be ascertained from the fragments rescued from the mounds, an eagle is depicted attacking a quadruped which could be a gazelle or a deer (Fig. 15 and Pl. 15 Reg. no. 65.5.22. 13/14th century. Akron).

17 Published: G.T. Scanlon, ‘Preliminary Report: Excavations at Fustat, 1964’, JARCE 4, 1965, frontispiece. Hereinafter FEPR ’64. 18 Meinecke, 225.

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Figure 16 and Plate 16 Two matching fragments of vertical rim and shoulder of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior design of the hand of a cavalier holding a bird with a long gathered tail by the legs accompanied by the bent tail of the horse; all in the champlevé technique under a transparent yellow glaze; the undecorated exterior is under a transparent greenish yellow glaze. Original rim dia. 28.0cm. Ht. vertical rim 2.0cm. Reg. no. 71.11.18. 14th century. IM. In technique, fineness of the body and subject matter this would seem to be part of the bowl of Fig. 14 and Pl. 14, except that external glaze tonalities are different. The preparation of the clay and the care taken in potting the shape associates the original vessel with those of Cyprus and al-Mina.19 This commonality of theme (not always of execution) unites this Mamluk Sgraff bowl with the generality of the Christian pottery of the Eastern Mediterranean in the 13/14th century. Hunting Dogs. Birds of prey as associated with hunting have long been known from antiquity and the stalk must be seen in the visual context of apprehension of prey from on high. With other prey in a less open landscape, smell and speed on the ground became paramount. Hence the utility of the highly bred and trained dog despite the general repugnance rowards the species throughout the Islamic world.20 In the Turkish imperia (Saljuq, Mamluk, Il-Khanid, Timurid, Ottoman, Safavid and Mughal and their epigones) hunting was the expression of royal and princely recreation and begot a shared ‘democracy’ of expression no matter the metier of its illustration. Generally the dog was carefully drawn though the breed cannot always be ‘deciphered’. From our excavations two can be seen to be almost realistic: Fig. 17 is a fragment of imported Raqqa ware (Reg. no. 65.5.59. 13th century. Akron) and Pl. 17 is a fragment of enamelled glass (Reg. no. 66.3.58. 13th century. IM). However, such fidelity does not obtain with Mamluk Sgraff ceramics where the dogs are so freely drawn as to make one unsure of the ascription; nev19 W.B. Kubiak, ‘Crusaders’ Pottery of Al-Mina Found at Fustat’, Folia Orientalia 12, 1970, 113–123. 20 EI 2, s.v. ‘Kalb’ (F. Vire).

  :     

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ertheless, as our examples demonstrate, the alertness and motion of the dogs are unmistakable. Figure 18 and Plate 18 Fragment of the wall of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. External decoration of frieze of dogs running to the left under a register of floral elements, internal decoration of flower and vine elements, all under a transparent light-yellow glaze. Pres. dimensions 6.5 × 5.5 × 0.7cm. Reg. no. 64.4.54. 14/15th century. Princeton. Figure 19 and Plate 19 Rim fragment of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Internal decoration of dog with raised tail (?) running vertically into rim within an incomplete pointed shield which separated a Naskhi inscription with background of squiggled lines; shield painted in dark-brown slip; all under a clear light-yellow glaze. Pres. dimensions 10.0 × 9.5 × 0.7cm. Reg. no. 64.6.23. 14/15th century. Princeton. If indeed the animal is a dog, the head no doubt was modelled on that of the saluki, the most regarded of hunting dogs. Figure 20 and Plate 20 Fragment of circular section of straight-sided Mamluk Sgraff chalice or body of further flared Mamluk Sgraff bowl. External decoration of frieze of dogs moving to the left below a double ribbing and above the bottom of chalice or bowl sloping to a missing base; darkbrown slip under a transparent green glaze. Undecorated interior under the same glaze. Pres. ht. 4.5cm. Ext. diam. neck 8.8cm. Reg. no. 65.3.131. 14/15th century. Kelsey. Figure 21 and Plate 21 Fragment of the flange rim of a Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior design of a dog (?) moving to the left through a field of scribbling towards an interrupting roundel with what appears to be a pseudo-inscription against the same scribbling succeeded by part of the rear of another animal: all under a transparent manganese glaze which also covers the undecorated exterior.

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 . 

Width flange rim 4.5cm. Ht. fragment 4.5cm. Reg. no. 65.5.91. 14/15th century. OI/Chicago. On another Fustat fragment also of the typical red clay but with painted rather than scratched decoration, a long-eared hound is running to the left below a register of pseudo-Kufic: all in brown slip under a transparent yellow glaze which also covers the undecorated exterior (Fig. 22 and Pl. 22; Reg. no. 65.2.8. 15th century. Akron). Its indistinctness echoes that of a possibly canine figure on the exterior of a Mamluk Sgraff bowl (CEEM, pl. 138 lower).

Additional Fauna The range of animals associated with Mamluk art, particularly as related to heraldry, has been discussed in full by Mayer (SH, 9–10). However, as encountered in the illustrations of CME and CEEM, the faunal compass was much greater. It is our purpose here to complement the published examples and to indicate others which have not appeared in print to date. Two problems of interpretation attend: there may not be many examples but could these particular examples be symbolic as is the pelican in Western European medieval iconography? Or can the motif be associated with individuals? As all our examples lack epigraphic evidence the answer to the second question must be in the negative. Yet again, because of the sometimes slapdash drawing, we may be in error in the faunal assignment. Pelican. Only two examples are known to us: a) CME, pl. LI–5 which like our example centres the pelican on the interior but within a round shield; and b) our example (infra) from the excavations under consideration here. There are also what one may see as approximations of the pelican’s shape. Figure 23 and Plate 23 Base fragment of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior decoration of pelican in profile moving to the left painted in brown slip under a transparent yellow glaze; exterior undecorated under the same glaze down to slightly splayed flat ring foot. Base dia. foot 7.5cm. Ht. foot 2.0cm. Reg. no. 64.4.70. 14/15th century. Akron.

  :     

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We believe the centre motif to be of a pelican; to some it has seemed a swan. Two other examples from our excavations are so indistinct in outline as to beg the question: a) Fig. 24 of a long necked bird which might be either (Reg. no. 65.3.89. 14/15th century. Akron) but whose ascertainable shape fits in the Mamluk Sgraff range (MSS, fig. 10–d); and b) Pl. 24 of a similar motif but more detailed in that the wings are spread for flight (Reg. no. 68.10.35. 14/15th century. Kelsey). Flying Bird. Again two examples are known to us: a) CME, pl. LI–7 which is in a round shield against a scribbled background; and b) our example, infra. In both, the question obtains: what bird in flight is being shown? The neck seems too short to be either a pelican or a swan, as witness the very finely drawn bird in flight on the base of an Imitation Sultanabad bowl (CEEM, pl. 109). The downfeathers, though stenographically indicated, may point to a hunting eagle or kestrel or heron. Figure 25 and Plate 25 Major fragment of Mamluk Sgraff bowl, low flat splayed ring foot and outwardly canted flange rim. Interior decoration of bird in flight with pseudo-Kufic inscription around the flange rim: all under a transparent light-yellow glaze and the same glaze on the undecorated exterior. The shape is within the range for Mamluk Sgraff (MSS, fig. 7–a). Rim dia. 17.7cm. Ht. 7.0cm. Reg. no. 71.10.5. 14th century. IM. Elephant. It would seem that our example is the only known Mamluk ceramic artefact bearing this motif. It was very well known in the Fatimid period particularly in lustre ware21 and ivory but except in Mughal Art it rarely appears as a dominant motif in the arts of the imperia. Once again it is impossible to affirm that the motif was symbolic or that it became associated with a particular Mamluk. Figure 26 and Plate 26 Large fragment of cavetto and possibly rim of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior decoration of head, trunk and tusks of elephant in profile 21

EIP, pl. 22–A.

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moving left below the rim decoration of a rinceau reserved against scribbled lines all under a light-yellow glaze. Exterior decoration in two registers: above rib more or less parallel lines, below rib a rinceau decoration; painted in white slip with no underslip under a transparent light-brown glaze. Pres. dim. 15.4 × 8.5 × 1.0cm. Reg. no. 72.11.46. 14th century. IM. A far more beautiful Mamluk depiction of the elephant can be found in the hunt friezes on the exterior of the Baptistère of St. Louis.

Miscellanea The objects herein considered are difficult to place within any of the categories noted above, yet they are all decisively from Mamluk Sgraff vessels. One object (the enlaced snakes) is absolutely new to the motival world of Mamluk Art but at first glance is so familiar as the cadeucus, the sign of the druggist or apothecary, that it might be considered an heraldic device. Another (harpy/sphinx) is of course so very well known from ancient Middle Eastern Art through Islamic Art that it assumes the rare inconic distinction of continuity; but this is the only example known to us within the motival world of Mamluk Sgraff. Our last examples return us to the problem of motival continuity for one has but to think of the monumental reification of the lion attacking the bull at Persepolis to confirm how long-lived such a motif is. Yet we are left unable to respond to the question of the meaning to the Mamluk sultan or amir who ordered it; further, if it had no symbolic connotation, was it employed for decorative purposes only? Entwined Snakes. If this example represents the cadeucus, it must be related to a personage who tendered services either medical or pharmaceutical or both. Two Mamluk buildings have devices which suggest entwined snakes: in the Mosque of the Snakes ( jami' al-hayyat) in Hama where the small columns in the window framing the mihrab suggested our motif (Pl. 27); and the apparently twisted columns in the window on the façade of the Maristan of Sultan Al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh did the same (Pl. 28). In the latter case if the twisting con-

  :     

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veyed a semblance of the cadeuceus, it would be quite in keeping with its function as an hospital. Plate 29 The base of a Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Internal centre decoration of two confronted snakes with jaws ajar and bodies interlaced in loops under a transparent light yellow-brown glaze which covers the undecorated exterior. Though this fragment was not found in our excavations, it did come from Fustat and is now in the Benaki Museum/ Athens (Inv. no. 648) who have granted permission to publish it. It remains unique in the motival repertory of Mamluk Art, if not of Egyptian Islamic Art as a whole. Sphinx/Harpy. The rather exhaustive study of this motif in its separateness and duality by Eva Baer carries examples from the Ancient Middle East through the end of the Mamluk period. Although no example of the motif exists to date in Mamluk Sgraff, it is portrayed in both Raqqa ware (CEEM, pl. 120 upper right and SH, fig. 31) and Imitation Sultanabad ware (CEEM, pl. 120 upper left).22 Figure 27 Fragment of the wall of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior decoration of the head of a round-faced creature with long scaly neck, eyebrow and nose in a single line, almond shaped eye and roughly sketched lips, head above eyebrow and right brow and eye missing, attached body accentuated by squiggled lines: all in reserve against a brown slip under a transparent light-yellow glaze. Undecorated exterior under the same glaze.23 Pres. dimensions 7.7 × 5.0 × 1.0cm. Reg. no. 64.3.10. 14/15th century. Princeton. Lion and Bull Combat. There can be little doubt that all four of our examples represent this motif, but none in its entirety nor does any other published example (CEEM, pl. 139 right and CME, pl. LI–3).

22 E. Baer, Sphinxes and Harpies in Medieval Islamic Art, Jerusalem, 1965, most particularly 2–8. 23 Published: FEPR ’64, frontispiece.

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 . 

Figure 28 Fragment of ring foot and wall of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior decoration of part of a lion on the back of a bull attacking its head; all in reserve against a brown slip and under a transparent green glaze as is the undecorated exterior.24 Pres. dimensions 8.5 × 12.5 × 1.0cm. Ht. base 2.0cm. Reg. no. 64.3.11. 14/15th century. Princeton. Figure 29 Fragment of base of Mamluk Sgraff bowl, ring foot missing. Interior decoration of lion attacking rump of bull whose front feet and head are missing against a background of squiggled lines; all under a transparent yellow glaze which also covers the undecorated exterior. Pres. dimensions 7.5 × 12.5 × 1.0cm. Reg. no. 65.4.177. 14/15th century. IM. Figure 30 and Plate 30 Part of wall of Mamluk Sgraff bowl. Interior decoration of hind legs of a lion attacking the body of a bull whose head, front legs and shoulders are visible in profile, all in reserve against a brown slip and under a clear yellow glaze which covers the undecorated exterior. Pres. dimensions 11.5 × 13.0 × 1.0cm. Reg. no. 66.3.53. 14/15th century. Princeton. Figure 31 and Plate 31 Matching fragments of base and wall of Mamluk Sgraff bowl on a high outwardly canted ring foot with a single rib on the exterior wall. Interior design of a bull with raised head amid foliage, back haunch and part of front legs missing; all in brown slip under a light-yellow transparent glaze, exterior of scrolling in brown slip under the same glaze. Dia. ring foot 10.0cm. Ht. internal foot 3.0cm. Reg. no. 78.9.9. 14th century. AUC. With the head raised alert to attack it is likely that the lion is within the complete design ready to spring. The suavity of the splayed ring

24

Published: FEPR ’64, frontispiece.

  :      foot canting upward has been Sgraff bowls including some Abwani; all variations of the wares of Cyprus throughout centuries.25

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associated with the finest of Mamluk bearing the signature of Sharaf alshape are indebted to the imported the thirteenth and early fourteenth

Conclusion A paradox lies at the heart of practically all questions concerning Mamluk sgraffiato ceramics: why was red clay of less than perfect preparation employed to carry the highly varied imprimatur of Mamluk political (and consequent social) ascendancy? In at least one instance a transitional employment of red clay in the preceding Ayyubid period has been cited but the clay, the slip, the ornament and the glazing were superior to those of the vessels surveyed in this article.26 This paradox must be considered when all the other superior ceramics of the period c. 1200–1500 AD (e.g. Raqqa polychrome and its imitations, Imitation Sultanabad, blue and black on white slip, silhouette wares and imitation of Chinese celadon and blue-and-white) were based on the white frit produced by the Fatimid potters c. 1100 AD and perfected by Iranian Saljuq potters before 1200 AD. But the vessels themselves, no matter how poor the potting and slap-dash the decoration, carried the most important motival expression of what one may identify as the regnant Mamluk aesthetic, something it shares with architectural decoration and the other decorative arts. Indeed, relative to published examples we have demonstrated important novel motifs and most interesting variations of accepted ones. Now one must entertain a wider heraldic variety and a more manifold expression of the devices associated with hunting. It remains to point out a ceramics enigma occasioned by this survey of Mamluk Sgraffiato redwares: once champlevé was added to

25 MSS, figs. 13–15. Although our part-profile of the bowl is dissimilar from any example noted in the citation, the handling of the foot and the ribbing would make it a coeval of those bowls whose profiles are more clearly influenced by imports. It should be mentioned here that the profile of the bowl in the Luxor Museum carrying the name of Sharaf al-Abwani (cited in n. 11) is illustrated by fig. 15 of MSS, the discussion of which was deleted from the article. 26 See note 7 herein.

 . 

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simple linear engraving a decidedly superior ceramic object was produced. The clay was far better prepared yielding greater consistency through the vessel; the shapes were scrupulously turned; the decoration more symmetrically expressed, more thoughtfully attuned to the shape; and the underslip and glazing were applied more skilfully and generously.27 Why do these vessels stand in relief against the vast majority of what appear to be almost mass-produced visually inferior sgraffiato vessels? Were they produced for a clientele higher up in the complex ladder of Mamluk hierarchy? At such a pitch of anomaly one may quote the King of Siam: “. . . is a puzzlement”.

Abbreviations Akron AUC CEM

Akron Museum of Art American University in Cairo Aly Bey Bahgat & Felix Massoul, La Ceramique musulmane de L’Egypte, Cairo, 1930 CEEM La Ceramique egyptienne de l’Epoque Musulmane, Basel, 1922 IM Islamic Museum/Cairo JARCE Journal of the American Research Centre in Egypt Kelsey Kelsey Museum/University of Michigan OI/Chicago Oriental Institute/University of Chicago Princeton Princeton Art Museum/Princeton University SH L.A. Mayer, Saracenic Heraldry, Oxford, 1938

27

See note 8 herein.

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DE PASSAGE À DAMAS EN 688/1286 IBN AL-NAJÌB ET LA TRANSMISSION DU SAVOIR Jacqueline Sublet (Paris) À la fin du VIIe/XIIIe et au début du VIIIe/XIVe siècle, plusieurs groupes de personnes, adultes et enfants, se réunissent à Damas dans le but d’accueillir des lettrés damascains ou de passage dans la ville et de recevoir leur enseignement. Un savant de l’assistance, faisant office de scribe, tient un registre dans lequels il consigne l’identité des membres du groupe, ainsi que le lieu et la date de la première réunion. Chaque lettré donne une leçon, c’est-à-dire qu’il récite ou lit à haute voix devant les assistants un ou plusieurs textes, puis il authentifie cette transmission en signant le registre de son nom, après avoir inscrit une formule conventionnelle indiquant qu’il donne au groupe licence de transmettre ces enseignements pour lesquels on l’a sollicité. Il ajoute parfois mention de la date de son passage. C’est ainsi que de 666/1267 à 711/1311, sous le règne des sultans mamelouks ba˙rìs, celui d’al-Malik al-¸àhir Baybars et de ses successeurs, jusqu’au troisième règne d’al-Malik al-Nàßir Mu˙ammad b. Qalàwùn, à une époque où la Syrie était menacée par les ennemis à l’extérieur et à l’intérieur, et où les savants des écoles juridiques, hanbalite et shàfi'ite en particulier, déployaient une grande activité intellectuelle et affirmaient la vivacité de la transmission du savoir et la force des liens qui les attachaient aux origines de l’Islam en tenant de nombreuses réunions savantes, plus de sept cents lettrés ont, à la demande de groupes identifiés, inscrit leur nom dans le volume qui nous occupe ici. Au sein de ces groupes, un jeune savant shàfi'ite joue un rôle important. Badr al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad alShàfi'ì, plus connu sous les noms de Ibn al-Najìb et de Ibn (ou) Sib† Imàm al-Kallàsa, est le descendant (sib†) de l’imàm d’un oratoire (masjid ) al-Kallàsa, situé un peu en dehors de Damas, un lieu connu, notamment parce qu’en 635/1237–8 on y avait transporté, venant de la Citadelle du Caire,1 la dépouille du sultan al-Malik al-Ashraf 1

Al-Nu'aymì, al-Dàris fì al-madàris, éd. J. Al-Óinnì, Damas 1948, II, 291–2.

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pour l’inhumer non loin. L’historien al-Dhahabì2 décrit Ibn al-Najìb dans une notice qui tient en cinq lignes, comme un jeune homme plein d’ambition, “passionné par les textes et assidu à transmettre le savoir” (˙arìßan 'alà l-ajzà" wa-l-samà'àt). Quand “il mourut en pleine transmission” (màta fì wasa† al-†alab) le 6 ßafar 689/18 février 1290, il n’était âgé que d’une trentaine d’années (kàna min abnà" al-thalàthìn). Il avait participé à de nombreuses séances de transmission, à Baalbeck et à Damas, comme en témoignent non seulement notre manuscrit mais plusieurs autres qui sont conservés à Damas, nous en donnons des exemples en annexe à cet article. Ibn al-Najìb est notamment celui qui met par écrit le compterendu de séances organisées au cours de l’année 688/1289 et, d’une écriture que son contemporain al-Dhahabì3 dit “belle” (kàna malì˙ al-kitàba), rédige non seulement la déclaration de formation d’un groupe; il prête aussi assistance à plusieurs lettrés, hommes et femmes venus transmettre leur savoir et qui, pour des raisons diverses, ne pouvaient écrire de leur main leur attestation de transmission. On retrouve encore son écriture quand il apporte, à plusieurs endroits du manuscrit, des compléments d’information qu’il ajoute aux attestations de certains lettrés. Notre propos est de présenter à la fois un ensemble d’attestations et de signatures, ce qu’on pourrait appeler un “livre d’or”, et de décrire le rôle du jeune savant Ibn al-Najìb dans ce milieu de la transmission du savoir.

Le document: un “livre d’or”, recueil de signatures Le manuscrit dont il est question ici est conservé à la Bibliothèque Asad de Damas sous la cote: ¸àhiriyya majmù' 121 ('umùmiyya 3827) et compte 131 folios;4 les cahiers, souvent incomplets, ont été

2 Al-Dhahabì, al-'Ibar fì khabar man ghabar, éd. S. al-Munajjid, Koweit 1960–6, V, 363, et Ta"rìkh al-Islàm, ms. Londres, British Library, Or. 1540, fol. 92v.–93r.; al-Íafadì, al-Wàfì bi-l-wafayàt, éd. S. Dedering, Bibliotheca Islamica 6c, Damas 1953, II, 137 n° 486; Ibn al-'Imàd, Shadharàt al-dhahab fì akhbàr man dhahab, éd. Arnaout, Le Caire-Beyrouth 1312/1991, VII, 716. Sa date de naissance ne figure pas dans les sources. Nous la situons en 659/1260, sur la base du texte de Dhahabì qui, dans son Ta"rìkh, dit qu’en 689/1290 il était dans la trentaine. 3 Al-Dhahabì, Ta"rìkh fol. 93r., expression reprise dans Wàfì et Shadharàt: malì˙ al-kha††. 4 Avec des lacunes: folios 3 à 6, 38 verso à 44 recto, 47–48, 79, 86 à 89, et 102.

     ⁄

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reliés sans ordre apparent. Il n’a pas d’auteur. Sur la première page on trouve une marque de possession de la main d’Ibn al-Wànì,5 un transmetteur connu à Damas à l’époque et dont une “liste des maîtres digne de foi” (athbàt) est conservée à la bibliothèque Asad, qui a constitué en waqf ce manuscrit qui lui avait appartenu. On y trouve aussi trois versions d’un titre factice, de mains différentes (bibliothécaires? relieur? possesseur?): Majmù'at al-ijàzàt wa-fìhà tawàqì' kathìra min al-'ulamà", “Recueil de licences de transmettre, accompagnées de nombreuses attestations de savants”, Kitàb ijàzàt “Le livre des licences” et Majmù' ajà"iz (sic, pluriel inattendu de ijàza) mubàraka, fì ˙udùd sana thamànìn wa-sittimi"a “Recueil de licences bénies rédigées dans les années 680[/1281–2]”. Les ensembles de signatures sollicitées par un même groupe occupent un nombre variable de pages. Chaque page a été rédigée par plusieurs personnes, donc avec des écritures différentes, sur un nombre de lignes qui va de 13 à 20. Ce document est intéressant à divers titres: l’originalité de sa composition, le fait qu’il apporte des informations sur le déroulement des séances de transmission, qu’il s’agisse de l’âge des transmetteurs ou du fait qu’un esclave pouvait être nommé parmi les auditeurs; enfin on note des particularités quant à sa rédaction et à sa présentation sur le plan graphique. Il diffère des autres recueils de samà' et d’ijàzàt “certificats de lecture” et “licences de transmettre”.6 Ceux-ci contiennent en effet habituellement à la fois le texte qui a été récité ou lu, suivant les règles bien établies de la transmission du savoir, accompagné de certificats attestant lecture et transmission qui sont inscrits sur la page de titre, dans les marges et dans les espaces laissés en blanc dans le manuscrit, avec les noms des transmetteurs du texte, ceux qui l’ont lu et ceux qui l’ont entendu et qui ont acquis

5 Abù Is˙àq Burhàn al-Dìn Ibràhìm, mort en 735/1335. La liste de ses maîtres est conservée dans le ms. de Damas, fonds ¸àhiriyya, ˙adìth 306. 6 Il s’agit de documents conservés à la Bibliothèque Asad et datés des années 550 à 750/1135 à 1349, dont le décryptage et l’édition ont été entrepris à Damas. L’impressionnante publication de ces documents par S. Leder, Y.M. al-Sawwàs et M. al-Íàgharjì sous le titre Majmù' al-samà'àt al-dimashqiyya, 550–750h/1155–1349, Institut français d’études arabes de Damas, 1996, complété par le Recueil de documents fac-similés des certificats d’audition à Damas, IFEAD, Damas 2000, propose des reproductions d’excellente qualité, la lecture des certificats d’audition et un répertoire des noms des acteurs de la transmission. Sur le vocabulaire de la transmission, voir entre autres J. Sublet, ‘Le modèle arabe. Eléments de vocabulaire’ dans N. Grandin et M. Gaborieau éd., Madrasa. La transmission du savoir dans le monde musulman, éd. Arguments, Paris 1997, 13–27.

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 

de ce fait licence de le transmettre à leur tour. Par contre, dans le manuscrit dont il est question ici, on n’a pas de texte mais seulement des informations concernant les personnes qui ont constitué un groupe: leur nom, le lieu et la date de leur première réunion, puis, au gré des visiteurs venus leur apporter leur savoir, le témoignage écrit de la visite de ces maîtres qui attestent leur avoir transmis “ce qui leur a été demandé”, c’est-à-dire, on le verra, “l’ensemble de leurs connaissances”. Les attestations de transmission datées de l’année 688/1289 occupent les folios 1v. à 2v. et 120v. à 127r. du manuscrit. Y sont rassemblées les signatures réunies par deux groupes composés à l’initiative de lettrés hanbalites, qui accueillirent des lettrés appartenant aux autres madhhab, notamment des shàfi'ites. Ces groupes ont la particularité de compter un nombre relativement élevé d’enfants7 ainsi qu’un esclave, ce qui peut surprendre, les esclaves n’ayant pas en principe, par leur statut, leur place dans le courant de la transmission du savoir.8 En quoi consiste le texte de ces attestations: tout d’abord on trouve une déclaration d’intention au moyen de laquelle le groupe affirme avoir pris l’initiative de se réunir et invite les savants à leur donner licence de transmettre la totalité de leur savoir. Puis figurent les noms des personnes présentes, adultes et enfants, enfin la date et le lieu de la constitution du groupe. Suit la signature des savants qui, après une formule conventionnelle, disent avoir répondu à l’attente des membres du groupe en leur transmettant leur enseignement, déclinent leur identité et indiquent parfois la date de leur passage. Dans

7

Selon G. Vajda, ‘Un opuscule inédit d’as-Silafì’, dans La transmission . . ., 89: ‘Même un enfant en bas âge peut recevoir l’ijàza comme il recevrait un ˙abs (fondation pieuse) ou un don, avec la faculté d’en bénéficier effectivement lorsqu’il aura atteint l’âge légal’, avec référence à al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì, al-Kifàya fì 'ilm al-riwàya, Hyderabad 1357/1938, 314–325; al-Kha†ìb accorde cette même faculté à l’enfant à naître; autre règle mentionnée par G. Vajda: en référence à l’Imàm al-Shàfi'ì, ‘l’arabophone peut validement recevoir samà' dès l’âge de 4 ans, le non arabophone à partir de 6 ans’; selon une autre tradition, les enfants doivent avoir 7 ans. 8 Op. cit., note 13; Recueil de documents, 390, ms. 3798, risàla 21, fol. 222v., samà' 2, lignes 1, 7 et 12. On retrouve cependant plusieurs noms d’esclaves dans les certificats d’audition présentés par Leder, Íàgharjì et Sawwàs, on verra par exemple dans le volume de fac-similés un samà' de 20 lignes dans lequel quatre esclaves qui se nomment: Aydakìn, Aqqush, Sinjar et Kaykaldì, accompagnent des enfants et figurent parmi les participants à une séance de transmission.

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les deux ensembles d’attestations datées de 688/1289 dans notre manuscrit, ces signatures sont autographes ou bien de la main d’Ibn al-Najìb. Après avoir présenté ces documents en indiquant, dans les rares cas où nous avons retrouvé leur date de naissance, l’âge des participants au moment de la réunion, nous proposons un index des transmetteurs.

Un contrat entre les lettrés de passage et le groupe qui les accueille Les lettrés de passage auprès du groupe tiennent une séance de transmission, ils récitent ou lisent devant les membres du groupe les textes qu’ils ont convenu, par accord mutuel (c’est ainsi qu’il faut comprendre: mà sa"alùhu bi-shar†ihi ) de leur enseigner. A l’issue de la séance, ils donnent par écrit une attestation de transmission qu’ils écrivent, ou font écrire par Ibn al-Najìb. En voici le libellé: 1. C’est le maître qui “signe” de sa main, il parle à la première personne: ajaztu lahum, waffaqahum Allàh ta'àlà, mà sa"alùhu bi-shar†ihi: “je leur ai donné licence de transmettre ce qu’ils m’ont demandé par contrat nous unissant”; 2. C’est Ibn al-Najìb qui écrit au nom du maître, homme ou femme, il s’exprime à la troisième personne: ajàza/ajàzat lahum mà su"ilahu/su"ilathu bi-shar†ihi al-shaykh/al-shaykha: “le shaykh/la shaykha . . . leur a donné licence de transmettre ce que (le groupe) lui a demandé par convention les unissant” et il ajoute une expression justifiant le fait qu’il s’est substitué au signataire pour prendre la plume à sa place. Il donne plusieurs raisons à son intervention: 1. le grand âge, c’est une raison implicite, il nomme les savants al-mu'ammar, au féminin: almu'ammara, terme qui fait partie de l’énoncé des éléments du nom propre de la personne; 2. la maladie (li-mara∂in bihi ); 3. une raison valable (li-'udhrin bihi); 4. une raison majeure (li-∂ararin bihi). Si aucune raison n’est donnée, notre scripteur écrit simplement, après la mention du nom du lettré: “Ibn al-Najìb a écrit ceci avec sa permission” (wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi . . . Ibn al-Najìb). Ibn al-Najìb sert ainsi de scribe à une savante âgée (mu'ammara); il se désigne comme “celui qui écrit sous sa dictée”, “celui auquel elle a délégué son pouvoir” (mu"dhanuhà):

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  Ajàzat lahum waffaqahum Allàh ta'àlà mà su"ilathu bi-shar†ihi al-shaykha alßàli˙a al-musnida al-mu'ammara Umm A˙mad Zaynab bint Najm al-Dìn Makkì b. 'Alì b. Kàmil al-Óarrànì wàliduhà, wa-kataba 'anhà mu"dhanuhà Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad Ibn al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'afà Allàh 'anhu: La shaykha traditionniste d’un âge vénérable Umm A˙mad Zaynab fille de Najm al-Dìn Makkì b. 'Alì b. Kàmil, son père portait le nom al-Óarrànì [de la ville de Óarràn], leur [= aux membres du groupe] a donné licence de transmettre—Dieu le Très-Haut les assiste—ce qu’ils avaient convenu de lui demander, et c’est Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad Ibn al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì—Dieu lui accorde Son pardon—qui, avec son autorisation, a écrit en son nom.

3. Le savant ou la savante a écrit de sa main son attestation, mais Ibn al-Najìb complète la signature, un nom toujours bref, souvent ism (nom personnel reçu à la naissance) et ism du père, le cas échéant du grand-père: 'Alì b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id, parfois un troisième élément, une nisba (nom de relation indiquant une origine géographique de la famille, par exemple: al-Maqdisì “de Jérusalem”). Il ajoute alors des éléments du nom pour rendre l’identité du personnage plus claire, parfois la date de naissance et des adjectifs laudatifs pour donner une idée de la valeur scientifique et morale du personnage. On prendra l’exemple de l’attestation du premier des lettrés que chacun des deux groupes a accueillis: Ibn al-Bukhàrì, un savant hanbalite réputé,9 alors âgé de 94 ans, qui écrit de sa main, à la première personne: ajaztu . . . pour dire qu’il a donné licence d’enseigner, et à la troisième personne: katabahu . . . quand il se nomme. L’inscription: Ajaztu li-man dhukira fìhi waffaqahum Allàh mà sa"alùhu bi-shar†ihi, katabahu 'Alì b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id al-Maqdisì 'afà Allàhu 'anhu:

9 Né en 594/1194 (variante: 599/1199), mort en 690/1291; voir la publication de la liste de ses maîtres par G. Vajda, “La transmission de la mashyakha (Asnà al-maqàßid wa-a'dhab al-mawàrid ) d’Ibn al-Bukhàrì d’après le manuscrit Reisülküttab 262 de la Bibliothèque Süleymaniye d’Istanbul”, Rivista degli studi orientali XLVIII, Roma 1974 (reprod. dans G. Vajda, La transmission du savoir en Islam (VII e–XVIII e siècles), Variorum Reprints, N. Cottart éd., Londres 1983, texte n° IX); sa biographie dans Ibn Rajab, Dhayl ˇabaqàt al-Óanàbila, éd. M.H. al-Fiqqì, Le Caire 1953, II, 325–329, n° 434 (date de naissance 594: lire tis'ìn au lieu de sab'ìn); Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì, al-Durar al-kàmina fì a'yàn al-mi"a al-thàmina, éd. M.S. Jàdd al-Óaqq, Le Caire 1966, V, 368; C. Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen Literatur (GAL), 2ème éd., Leyde 1943–48, I/2, 451, et Supplement (Suppl.) I, 625.

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J’ai donné à ceux dont le nom est mentionné, Dieu les assiste, licence de transmettre ce qu’ils m’ont demandé par convention mutuelle; écrit par 'Alì b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id al-Maqdisì, Dieu lui accorde Son pardon.

L’inscription tient en une ligne, mais Ibn al-Najìb a dû estimer que cette déclaration était insuffisante (insuffisamment développée pour donner une idée de l’importance du personnage venu visiter le groupe) et il a ajouté aussitôt 4 lignes au-dessus, et 5 lignes au-dessous de la signature, et ceci vraisemblablement avant même que le deuxième lettré vienne signer à son tour. Dans la reproduction de la page en annexe (Planche 1), on voit ces ajouts: le premier ajout de 4 lignes, écrit à l’envers du sens de la page, fournit des précisions sur le nom et la biographie d’Ibn al-Bukhàrì: Huwa al-shaykh al-imàm musnid al-Shàm baqiyyat al-salaf Fakhr al-Dìn Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id b. A˙mad al-Maqdisì al-Óanbalì 'urifa bi-Ibn al-Bukhàrì, mawliduhu immà fì salkh sanati khamsi wa-tis'ìn aw mustahall sanati sitti wa-tis'ìn wa-khamsi mi"at bi-saf˙ jabal Qàsyùn (suit une formule pieuse): Il s’agit du shaykh, l’imàm, le [fameux] transmetteur de Syrie, survivance des nobles ancêtres, Fakhr al-Dìn Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id b. A˙mad al-Maqdisì al-Óanbalì connu sous le nom d’Ibn al-Bukhàrì, qui naquit ou bien à la fin de l’année 95 ou bien au début de l’année 596, [les deux dates s’inscrivant dans le courant de l’année 1199], au pied du Mont Qasyoun.

Le second ajout de 5 lignes au-dessous de la signature met en évidence le fait que celui que le shàfi'ite Ibn al-Najìb appelle “notre maître” appartenait à une chaîne de transmetteurs particulièrement fiables. Ibn Rajab, dans son recueil des biographies de savants hanbalites, dit qu’avec lui disparaissait le dernier de ceux qui était séparé du Prophète par 8 générations de transmetteurs dignes de foi qui ont véhiculé l’enseignement de l’Imàm A˙mad Ibn Óanbal, fondateur de l’école juridique hanbalite, et il prend soin d’énumérer les noms des transmetteurs:10 une manifestation de l’effort commun des représentants des écoles juridiques différentes pour s’inscrire dans le courant de la transmission du savoir.

10

Dhayl ˇabaqàt al-˙anàbila, loc. cit.

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Ibn al-Najìb a alors une trentaine d’années et, outre qu’il intervient dans les séances de transmission, il affirme une personnalité intéressante, fait preuve d’un singulier esprit d’initiative, inscrit le nom d’un esclave parmi ceux qui assistent aux séances de transmission: en effet, quand il énumère les membres du premier groupe, il nomme Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl Ibn al-Óamawì wa-fatàhu Sa'ìd (“et son esclave Sa'ìd”); c’est bien ainsi qu’il faut le comprendre: le ism Sa'ìd est l’un de ces noms propitiatoires que l’on donnait aux esclaves, lesquels par ailleurs n’ont pas de généalogie. L’esclave en question accompagne Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Óamawì, qui n’était alors qu’un garçon de huit ans, dont on peut lire dans la notice que lui consacre par ailleurs Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì:11 “son père avait pris grand soin de lui et veillé à ce qu’il reçoive de nombreuses transmissions”. On retrouve le nom de l’enfant dans le compte-rendu des séances de transmission de la Mashyakha d’Ibn al-Bukhàrì tenues en ces mêmes années.12 Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Óamawì y est enregistré comme auditeur à l’occasion de neuf séances, huit se sont tenues entre les années 686/1287 et 689/1290, il avait alors entre 6 et 9 ans et était peutêtre là aussi escorté par son esclave, mais le nom de celui-ci n’a pas été inscrit parmi les assistants. On peut noter à titre d’information que la neuvième séance se tient plus de soixante ans plus tard, à la Mosquée des Omayyades en 754/1353, Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Óamawì est alors âgé de 74 ans, il n’est plus simple auditeur, c’est lui qui a organisé avec un autre lettré la session de lecture et de transmission de l’ouvrage, et il a parmi ses trois auditeurs celui qui deviendra l’un des grands traditionnistes du VIIIème/XIVème siècle: Ibn Óajar al-Haythamì,13 alors âgé de 19 ans.

L’Écriture manuscrite: libellés et espaces blancs Les noms de personnes tout d’abord: on a vu que leur libellé différait (et cela est habituellement pratiqué) suivant que le lettré signataire a écrit lui-même son nom ou qu’il l’a fait écrire par Ibn al-Najìb:

11

Durar IV, n° 3547. Vajda, La transmission, neuf attestations, textes n° I, VII, XIII, XVI, XVII, XXII, XXIV, XXV et XXIX. 13 735/1335–807/1405, GAL II/2, 91; Suppl. II, 82. 12

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le signataire se désigne par son ism et une partie de sa généalogie, avec le cas échéant l’adjonction d’un autre élément; par contre, quand c’est Ibn al-Najìb qui signe à la place d’un lettré, homme ou femme, il inscrit non seulement leur généalogie, mais aussi la kunya, élément du nom composée avec Abù pour les hommes, Umm pour les femmes, et le laqab, nom composé avec al-dìn attribué aux hommes seulement, ainsi que des adjectifs laudatifs et, le cas échéant, des indications qui lui paraissent utiles. Il ajoute, à plusieurs endroits, on l’a dit, la date de naissance des lettrés. Le procédé est le même pour les signatures. Quand Ibn al-Najìb se nomme lui-même, il se désigne par deux éléments de son nom ou par plusieurs éléments suivis d’une formule pieuse. Ainsi, il lui arrive14 de signer de deux éléments de son nom et il écrit alors seulement: Mu˙ammad al-Shàfi'ì; ou bien, quand il s’accorde une ligne et demie en fin de page,15 il développe sa signature: Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb b. Sa'ìd al-Shàfi'ì qu’il fait suivre d’une formule pieuse: 'afà Allàhu 'anhu wa-l-˙amdu lillàhi rabb al-'àlamayn. Il en va de même pour les formules pieuses écrites par Ibn alNajìb, on observe alors que l’espace disponible sur la page du manuscrit a une incidence sur leur libellé: en effet, il apparaît que le choix des formules pieuses qu’il a utilisées d’une manière générale a été opéré en fonction de la longueur de la ligne, c’est-à-dire que ce choix obéit au désir qu’a le scripteur d’occuper toute la ligne. Selon qu’il reste devant sa plume un espace blanc restreint ou une ligne à peine entamée, il utilise une formule brève ou plus développée, on le verra dans les exemples donnés plus loin.

Les groupes et leurs déclarations d’intention Notre premier groupe est composé de 26 personnes appartenant à cinq familles de lettrés qui se sont réunies pour la première fois le mardi 20 rajab 688/31 août 1289. Le second groupe compte 20 personnes appartenant à six familles, auxquelles se sont joints deux lettrés étrangers à ces familles; ils se sont réunis pour la première

14 15

Voir plus loin fol. 2v. [ijàza A] et fol. 126r. [ijàza 16]. Fol. 2r. [ijàza B].

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fois le 17 rabì' I 688/10 avril 1289. On remarque que les participants sont souvent désignés comme “le fils”, “la fille”, ou encore “les neveux” de tel savant. Cela ne signifie pas qu’ils s’agisse d’enfants aussi jeunes qu’Ibn al-Óamawì nommé plus haut, car par exemple deux des filles de la famille al-Yùnìnì avaient respectivement plus de 30 et plus de 20 ans, tandis que deux autres étaient de très jeunes enfants (on a relevé l’indication de leur âge quand on a pu la retrouver). Cette indication met en évidence le fait que l’on assistait en famille aux séances de transmission. Premier groupe Il est composé de 13 hommes et garçons et de 13 femmes et filles. Voici le texte de sa déclaration d’intention, écrit de la main d’Ibn al-Najìb (fol. 1v., Planche 1 en annexe): Al-mas"ùl min al-sàda al-'ulamà" wa-l-shuyùkh al-fu∂alà" ruwàt al-akhbàr wanaqalat al-àthàr, nafa'a Allàh bihim, "an yun'imù wa-yujìzù li- [. . . les noms des membres du groupe . . .] jamì' masmù'àtihim wa-maqru"àtihim wa-munàwalàtihim wa-mustajàzàtihim wa-mu"allafàtihim wa-maqùlàtihim wa-manqùlàtihim wa-naΩmihim wa-nathrihim wa-mà yajùzu lahum riwàyatuhu bi-shar† ahl al-˙adìth fì l-qadìm wa-l-˙adìth wa-hum barà"an min al-ghala† wa-l-taß˙ìf wal-la˙n wa-l-ta˙rìf: Requête est présentée aux illustres savants, aux maîtres éminents qui transmettent les “dits” traditionnels (al-akhbàr) et les récits des premiers temps de l’Islam (al-àthàr), Dieu les rende profitables aux autres, de prodiguer leur savoir et d’accorder à [. . . les noms des membres du groupe . . .] licence de transmettre la totalité des textes qu’ils ont euxmêmes reçus [par les divers modes de transmission]: ceux qu’ils ont fait entendre ou fait lire, ou encore qu’ils ont transmis par remise directe du texte écrit (munàwala). [La demande concerne également] leurs œuvres, ce qu’ils ont reçu en transmission orale ou recopié, ce qu’ils ont composé en prose ou en vers, et tout ce qu’ils ont l’autorisation de transmettre; [et ceci] suivant les modalités adoptées de tout temps par les transmetteurs des traditions, dans le passé comme de nos jours, étant admis que ces transmetteurs ne peuvent être suspectés de lire ou d’écrire de manière fautive, d’être responsables de barbarismes ou d’altérer le sens [des textes]”. Le certificat est daté du mardi 20 rajab 688/9 août 1289, “de la main de (wa-hàdhà kha††uhu) Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad Ibn al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì connu sous le nom de Ibn Imàm al-Kallàsa”.

Les noms des membres du groupe: on reprend ici le libellé de la requête: licence de transmettre est donc demandée en faveur de (li-):

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[1ère famille] li-Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad Ibn al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'urifa bi-Ibn Imàm al-Kallàsa (n° 1) wa-hàdhà kha††uhu “ceci est écrit de sa main” [il est alors âgé de 29 ans environ] wa-li-akhawayhi (à ses deux frères): Abù Bakr (n° 2) [Abì dans le texte] wa-'Alì (n° 3) wa-li-awlàd khàlihim (à ses cousins, enfants de son oncle paternel): A˙mad b. Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn (n° 4) wa-Fà†ima (n° 5) wa-Mu˙ammad (n° 6) [2ème famille] wa-li-Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl b. 'Umar Ibn al-Óamawì (n° 7) wa-li fatàhu (à son esclave): Sa'ìd (n° 8) [3ème famille] wa-li-Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. al-Mukhliß al-Qazwìnì (n° 9) wa-li-awlàd akhìhi (à ses neveux et nièces): Mu˙ammad b. Karìm al-Dìn Ma˙mùd (n° 10) wa-A˙mad (n° 11) wa-Sitt al-Mulùk (n° 12) wa-Zaynab (n° 13) [4ème famille] li-A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Yazdì (n° 14) wa-li-ukhtayhi (à ses deux sœurs): Fà†ima (n° 15) wa-La†ìfa (n° 16) [5ème famille] wa-li-l-ikhwat al-'ashara (aux 10 enfants) [de la famille al-Yùnìnì, dont certains sont adultes]: Taqì al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì (n° 17) wa-'Abd al-Qàdir (n° 18) [alors âgé de 6, 7 ou 16 ans] wa-Amat al-'Azìz (n° 19) [alors âgée de 31 ans] wa-Zaynab (n° 20) wa-Fà†ima (n° 21) [alors âgée de 23 ans] wa-Kulthum (n° 22) wa-Sukayna (n° 23)

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368 wa-Nà"ila (n° 24) wa-Kubà (n° 25) wa-Sitt al 'Arab (n° 26) Second groupe

Il est composé de 13 hommes et garçons et de 6 femmes et filles auxquels se sont joints au hasard des jours quelques enfants non identifiés. Voici le texte de sa déclaration d’intention, écrit de la main de Mu˙ammad b. Abì al-Fat˙ b. Abì al-Fa∂l al-Ba'lì (folio 120 v., Planche 2 en annexe): Al-mas"ùl min an'àm al-sàda al-'ulamà" wa-naqalat al-àthàr "an yujìzù jamì' mà tajùzu lahum riwàyatuhu wa-tasmì'uhu min aßnàf al-'ulùm li- [. . . les noms des membres du groupe auxquels s’ajoutent quelques enfants non identifiés de la famille de 'Umar b. Kha∂ir al-Ba'labakkì, voir ci-après la quatrième famille . . .] kutibat yawm al-sabt sàbi' 'ashar rabì' al-awwal thamàn wa-thamànìn wa-sittimi"a bi-Dimashq wa-l-˙amdu lillàhi wa˙dihi wakkala Allàh 'alà Mu˙ammad wa-àlihi wa-ßa˙bihi Requête est présentée aux meilleurs et aux plus nobles des savants, eux qui ont transmis les récits venus des premiers temps de l’Islam, afin qu’ils donnent licence d’enseigner la totalité de ce qu’ils ont l’autorisation de transmettre, et tout ce qu’ils ont entendu avec licence de l’enseigner, dans tous les domaines de la science à [les noms des membres du groupe]. Écrit le samedi 17 rabì' I 699 [/10 avril 1289] à Damas [ formule pieuse].

Les noms des membres du groupe: licence de transmettre est donc demandée “en faveur de” (li-): [Première famille] li-l-walad (à l’enfant, au petit) 'Abd al-Qàdir b. Abì Bakr b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Sul†àn al-Ras'anì (n° 1) wa-li-ukhtihi (à sa sœur) Mahmalak (n° 2) wa-li-banì 'ammihimà (à leurs cousins paternels) 'Alì b. 'Umar b. Mu˙ammad (n° 3) wa-li-ukhtayhi (à ses deux sœurs) Sitt al-Óusn (n° 4) wa-Sitt al-Rùm (n° 5)

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[Deuxième famille] wa-li-'Abd al-Ra˙màn (n° 6) [alors âgé de 3 ans]. wa-'Abd Allàh (n° 7) [alors âgé de 1 an] ibnay (tous deux fils de) al-Imàm Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. alImàm al-Zàhid Fakhr al-Dìn 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad [alors âgé de 55 ans] wa-li-wàlidihimà al-madhkùr (et à leur père susnommé) [al-Imàm Shams al-Dìn Mu˙ammad b. Fakhr al-Dìn 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad] (n° 8) [Troisième famille] wa-li-Mu˙ammad b. Ma˙mùd b. A˙mad b. 'Amr al-Zur'ì (n° 9) wa-li-wàlidihi al-madhkùr [Ma˙mùd b. A˙mad b. 'Amr al-Zur'ì] (n° 10) [Quatrième famille] wa-li-Mu˙ammad b. 'Umar b. Kha∂ir al-Ba'labakkì (n° 11) wa-li-akhawàtihi al-mawjùdàt yawmaydhin [ainsi orthographié dans le ms.] (et à celles de ses soeurs qui étaient présentes ce jour-là) wa-li-banì 'ammihi (à ses cousins) Mu˙ammad b. Abì al-Óusayn b. Kha∂ir (n° 12) Kha∂ir (n° 13) Hadiyya (n° 14) [Cinquième famille] wa-li-Ruqayya (n° 15) wa-Zaynab (n° 16) ibnatay (les deux filles de) Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Óàrimì al-muqìm bi-l-jàmi' bi-Dimashq (qui demeurait dans la mosquée à Damas) [Sixième famille] wa-li-kàtib asmà"ihim (à celui qui a écrit leur noms) Mu˙ammad b. Abì al-Fat˙ b. Abì al-Fa∂l al-Ba'lì (n° 17) wa-li-waladihi (et à son fils) Abù al-Fat˙ A˙mad (n° 18) [Abì dans le texte] [1 individu] wa-li-Ibràhìm b. al-Faqìh Sul†àn b. 'Abd al-Wahhàb (n° 19) [1 individu] wa-li-Óasan b. Ibràhìm b. Dà"ùd Ibn al-Kha†ìb (n° 20)

370

  De la main d’Ibn al-Najìb, deux sortes d’inscriptions

1°) “ijàza”: il écrit à la place de plusieurs savants et avec leur accord le texte des licences de transmettre précisant: wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi (bi-idhnihà au féminin) “a écrit [= j’ai écrit] sous sa dictée” Premier groupe: 5 ijàza (numérotées ici de A à E, folios 2r.–v.): – ijàza A (fol. 2r.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. Abì alFa∂l b. Îirghàm al-Ba'labakkì – ijàza B (fol. 2r.): al-shaykh Íàrim al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad 'Abd al-Karìm b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Abdàn b. Zayd al-Ba'labakkì – ijàza C (fol. 2v.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ Abù al-'Abbàs A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn b. Mufarrij al-Ba'labakkì – ijàza D (fol. 2v.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-muqri" Abù al-Baqà" 'Àmir b. Ya˙yà b. Rabbàn16 al-Khàbùrì thumma al-Ba'labakkì – ijàza E (fol. 2v.): al-shaykha al-ßàli˙a al-musnida Umm Mu˙ammad Zaynab bint 'Umar b. Kindì al-Kindì. Second groupe: 16 ijàza (numérotées ici de 1 à 16, folios 120v. à 126r.): – ijàza 1 (fol. 120v.): al-shaykha al-ßàli˙a al-musnida al-mu'ammara Umm A˙mad Zaynab bint Najm al-Dìn Makkì b. 'Alì b. Kàmil alÓarrànì wàliduhà (son père portait la nisba al-Óarrànì, de la ville de Óarràn) wa-kataba 'anhà mu"dhanuhà ** argument, implicite: l’âge [alors âgée de 94 ans] – ijàza 2 (fol. 121r.): al-shaykh al-ajall al-ßadr al-kabìr al-aßìl al-mu'ammar al-musnid 'Alà" al-Dìn Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. Abì Bakr b. Abì al-Fat˙ b. Íaßrà al-Tha'labì, le 7 rabì' II ** argument, implicite: l’âge [alors âgé de 82 ans] – ijàza 3 (fol. 121v.): al-shaykh al-jalìl al-ßàli˙ al-musnid al-thiqa Jamàl al-Dìn Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad b. 'Uthmàn b. 'Abd alWahhàb al-Abharì al-Íùfì wa-adhina fì al-kitàba 'anhu li-Mu˙ammad Ibn al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì li-'udhrin bihi 'afà Allàh 'anhu ** argument: une excuse valable

16

Lire sans doute possible: Rabbàn, voir note 26.

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– ijàza 4 (fol. 122r.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-ßaddùq al-musnid Abù alÓasan 'Alì b. 'Uthmàn b. Ya˙yà b. A˙mad al-Lamtùnì al-mu"adhdhin, kàna wàliduhu bi-Kallàsa jàmi' Dimashq wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Ibn al-Najìb 'afà Allàh 'anhu wa-'an wàlidayhi wa-'an jamì' al-muslimìn ** pas d’argument – ijàza 5 (fol. 122v.): al-shaykh al-jalìl al-ßàli˙ al-thiqa al-musnid almu'ammar Shams al-Dìn Abù Ghàlib MuΩaffar b. 'Abd al-Íamad b. Khalìl al-Anßàrì wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Ibn al-Najìb li-mara∂in bihi 'afà Allàh 'anhu ** argument: la maladie – ijàza 6 (fol. 122v.): al-shaykh al-jalìl al-ßàli˙ al-thiqa al-musnid Kamàl al-Dìn Abù al-'Abbàs A˙mad b. Yùsuf b. Naßr b. Shàdhì alFà∂ilì wa-adhina bi-al-kitàba 'anhu li-mara∂in bihi li-Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad al-Shàfi'ì 'afà Allàhu 'anhu ** argument: la maladie – ijàza 7 (fol. 123r.): al-shaykh al-imàm al-'àlim al-fà∂il al-muqri" almajìd Ra∂ì al-Dìn Abù al-Fa∂l Ja'far b. al-Qàsim b. Ja'far al-Rab'ì al-ma'rùf bi-Ibn Dabùqà wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi li-∂ararin bihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'afà Allàhu 'anhumà wa'an jamì' al-muslimìn ** argument: une raison majeure – ijàza 8 (fol. 123v.): al-shaykh al-imàm al-ßàli˙ al-jalìl al-aßìl Najm al-Dìn Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad b. As'ad b. Naßr Allàh al-Anßàrì Ibn al-Óarastànì wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad alShàfi'ì ** pas d’argument – ijàza 9 (fol. 124r.): kadhàlika ajàza lahum al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-mu'ammar al-zàhid Shams al-Dìn 'Àmir b. Mu˙yì b. Rabbàn al-Khàbùrì thumma al-Ba'labakkì wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'afà Allàh 'anhumà wa-'an jamì' al-muslimìn ** argument, implicite: l’âge (al-mu'ammar) – ijàza 10 (fol. 124r.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-zàhid Abù Ghànim ¸àfir b. Ja'far b. Abì al-Qàsim al-Sulamì wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad al-Shàfi'ì ** pas d’argument

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 

– ijàza 11 (fol. 124v.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-musnid Abù A˙mad 'Abd al-Óamìd b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Bijjadì wa-kataba 'anhu biidhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'afà Allàh 'anhu wa-'an jamì' al-muslimìn ** pas d’argument – ijàza 12 (fol. 125r.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-qudwa Abù al-Zahr Zuhayr b. Sàlim b. Abì al-Zahr al-'Asùlì wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'afà Allàh 'anhu ** pas d’argument – ijàza 13 (fol. 125v.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-muqri" Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Najdì wa-kataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì ** pas d’argument – ijàza 14 (fol. 126r.): al-amìr al-ajall al-kabìr Sayf al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad Balabàn b. 'Abd Allàh al-Ghulmashì wa-kataba 'anhu biidhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì ** pas d’argument – ijàza 15 (fol. 126r.): al-shaykh al-ßàli˙ al-musnid Abù al-Óasan 'Alì b. Abì al-Majd b. Manßùr b. Abì al-Faraj al-Qaßßàb al-Íàli˙ì wakataba 'anhu bi-idhnihi Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad al-Shàfi'ì ** pas d’argument – ijàza 16 (fol. 126r.): al-shaykha al-ßàli˙a Umm Mu˙ammad Fà†ima bint al-shaykh Ibràhìm b. Ma˙mùd b. Jawhar al-Ba'labakkiyya alma'rùf wàliduhà bi-al-Ba†à"i˙ì wa-kataba 'anhà bi-idhnihà Mu˙ammad alShàfi'ì ** pas d’argument 2°) signatures et “ajouts” (numérotés ici de 1 à 9): Ibn al-Najìb complète, par un ajout de sa main, le nom des lettrés dont la signature ne suffit pas à les identifier: signature de 'Alì b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id al-Maqdisì ajout 1: huwa al-shaykh al-imàm musnid al-Shàm Fakhr al-Dìn al-Óanbalì al-ma'rùf bi-Ibn al-Bukhàrì [alors âgé de 94 ans] (fol. 1v. et 120v.) signature de 'Umar b. Ya˙yà b. Mu˙ammad al-Karjì, le 17 rabì' I [688] ajout 2: huwa al-shaykh al-imàm al-'àlim al-'àmil al-fà∂il al-

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signature de ajout 3:

signature de ajout 4: signature de ajout 5: signature de ajout 6: signature de ajout 7: signature de ajout 8: signature de ajout 9:

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qudwa baqiyyat al-salaf Fakhr al-Dìn Abù Óafß alKarjì al-Shàfi'ì [alors âgé de 89 ans] (fol. 121v.) 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad 'afà Allàh 'anhu huwa al-shaykh al-imàm al-'allàma muftì al-qarn Fakhr al-Dìn al-Ba'labakkì al-Óanbalì [alors âgé de 77 ans] (fol. 121v.) Ismà'ìl b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Amr al-Farrà" huwa al-shaykh 'Izz al-Dìn (fol. 121v.) Mu˙ammad b. Óasan b. Yùsuf al-Urmawì huwa al-shaykh Íadr al-Dìn nafa'a Allàhu bi-barakatihi (fol. 122v.) Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad al-Bàlisì (?) wa-huwa al-shaykh 'Imàd al-Dìn a'ànahu Allàh ta'àlà (fol. 122v.) 'Abd al-Walì b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. Mu˙ammad alMaqdisì al-Óanafì huwa al-shaykh Nàßir al-Dìn al-Kàtib (fol. 122v.) Yùnus b. 'Alì b. Ri∂wàn b. Mu˙ammad b. Qarsaq 'afà Allàhu 'anhu huwa al-shaykh 'Imàd al-Dìn Ibn Qarsaq abànahu Allàh al-janna (fol. 124r.) A˙mad (?) b. 'Abd Allàh al-Ór(?) al-mar'ùf bi-al-Ashrafì al-Fà∂ilì huwa al-shaykh al-muqri" Shihàb al-Dìn Abù al-Khayr nafa'a Allàh bi-barakatihi (fol. 124r.)

En conclusion, notre propos est ici d’attirer l’attention sur l’existence de ce recueil de signatures, ou “livre d’or” conservé dans les collections de la Bibliothèque Asad de Damas. Une étude de l’ensemble de son contenu—rappelons qu’il compte 131 folios—apporterait des éléments importants sur la vie intellectuelle à Damas, notamment sur la pérennité de l’enseignement que huit, ou même neuf générations ont transmis à partir de l’Imàm A˙mad Ibn Óanbal, fondateur de l’école juridique hanbalite. On y trouve en effet le témoignage de l’effort commun des représentants des différentes écoles juridiques pour assurer la transmission du savoir dans la Syrie sous domination mamelouke. Confronté aux résultats du relevé systématique des certificats de transmission relevés dans les marges des manuscrits arabes de Damas, notamment ceux entrepris par Leder, Íàgharjì et

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Sawwàs, on observe les modalités de la transmission du savoir dans le Proche-Orient aux XIIIème et XIVème siècles ainsi que le rôle et les alliances des grandes familles de savants dans la vie intellectuelle de cette époque. Index des noms des transmetteurs (en ordre alphabétique latin des ism) 'Abd Allàh (Taqì al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad) b. Mu˙ammad Shams al-Dìn b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Fakhr al-Dìn b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad al-ma'rùf bi-Ibn al-Fakhr al-Ba'labakkì al-aßl thumma al-Dimashqì alÓanbalì, 687–744/1288–1343 (2ème groupe, n° 7)17 'Abd al-Óamìd b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Abù A˙mad alBijjadì al-Khutulì (ijàza 11, fol. 124v.)18 'Abd al-Karìm (Íàrim al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad) b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Abdàn b. Zayd al-Ba'labakkì (ijàza B, fol. 2r.) 'Abd al-Qàdir (al-walad) b. Abì Bakr b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Sul†àn al-Ras'anì (2ème groupe, n° 1) 'Abd al-Qàdir (Mu˙yì al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad ou Abù 'Abd Allàh) b. 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì, date de naissance incertaine: 672/1273–4 ou 682 ou 683/1283 ou 1284–5, mort en 747/1346 (1er groupe, n° 18)19 'Abd al-Ra˙màn (Abù Bakr et Abù Mu˙ammad) b. Mu˙ammad Shams al-Dìn b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn Fakhr al-Dìn b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad al-Ba'labakkì al-Óanbalì thumma al-Dimashqì, 685–732/1286–1331 (2ème groupe, n° 6)20 'Abd al-Ra˙màn (Fakhr al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad) b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad al-Ba'labakkì al-Óanbalì, 611–688/1214–1289, mort le 7 rajab/27 juillet (signature, et ajout 3, fol. 121v.)21

17 Ta"rìkh Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, éd. 'Adnàn Darwìch, Institut français d’études arabes de Damas, tome second, années 741/1340–750/1350, Damas, 1994, 386–7; Durar II, n° 2214. 18 Corriger Leder, Sawwàs et Íàgharjì, al-Samà'àt I 620, et lire al-Bijjadì et non al-Najdì (dans le ms. 3757, fol. 129r., le point sous la lettre bà" est inscrit). Il s’agit d’un personnage connu comme l’élève d’Ibn al-Lattì, voir Ibn Nàßir al-Dìn, Taw∂ì˙ al-mushtabih fì ∂abt asmà" al-ruwàt [. . .], éd. M.N. al-Arqasùsì, Beyrouth 1993, IX, 38. 19 Voir ms. Damas, Bibl. Asad, fonds Zàhiriyya, majmù' 25, fol. 54; G. Vajda, ‘La mashyakha de 'Abd al-Qàdir al-Yùnìnì’, Journal Asiatique CCLIX, 223–246, Paris 1971, rééd. dans G. Vajda, La transmission du savoir, loc. cit., texte n° VI; notice biographique dans Ta"rìkh Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba, II, 492. 20 Durar II, 451, n° 2349: Abù Bakr; Shadharàt, VIII, 176: Abù Mu˙ammad. 21 Dhayl ˇabaqàt al-˙anàbila, 319, n° 428; 'Ibar V, 358; Shadharàt VII, 706.

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'Abd al-Walì (Nàßir al-Dìn) b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. Mu˙ammad al-Maqdisì al-Óanafì al-Kàtib (signature, et ajout 7, fol. 122v.) Abù Bakr b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb b. Sa'ìd al-Shàfi'ì, frère d’Ibn al-Najìb (1er groupe, n° 2) A˙mad(?) (Shihàb al-Dìn Abù al-Khayr) b. 'Abd Allàh al-Ór(?) almar'ùf bi-al-Ashrafì al-Fà∂ilì al-muqri" (signature, et ajout 9, fol. 124r.) A˙mad b. Ma˙mùd (Karìm al-Dìn) b. al-Mukhliß al-Qazwìnì (1er groupe, n° 11) A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Yazdì (1er groupe, n° 14) A˙mad (Abù al-Fat˙) b. Mu˙ammad b. Abì al-Fat˙ b. Abì alFa∂l al-Ba'lì (2ème groupe, n° 18) A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad Shams al-Dìn b. A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn, neveu d’Ibn al-Najìb (1er groupe, n° 4) A˙mad (Abù al-'Abbàs) b. 'Uthmàn b. Mufarrij al-Ba'labakkì (ijàza C, fol. 2v.) A˙mad (Kamàl al-Dìn Abù al-'Abbàs) b. Yùsuf b. Naßr b. Shàdhì al-Fà∂ilì (ijàza 6, fol. 122v.) 'Alì ('Alà" al-Dìn Abù al-Óasan) b. Abì Bakr b. Abì al-Fat˙ Ibn Íaßrà al-Tha'labì al-mu'ammar, 606–691/1209–1291 (ijàza 2, fol. 121r.)22 'Alì b. Abì al-Fa∂l b. Îirghàm Abù al-Óasan al-Ba'labakkì (ijàza A, fol. 2r.) 'Alì (Abù al-Óasan) b. Abì al-Majd b. Manßùr b. Abì al-Faraj alQaßßàb al-Íàli˙ì (ijàza 15, fol. 126r.) 'Alì (Fakhr al-Dìn) b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Wà˙id al-ma'rùf bi-Ibn al-Bukhàrì al-Maqdisì al-Óanbalì musnid al-Shàm, 594–690/1194–1291 (signatures, et ajouts 1, fol. 1v. et fol. 120v.)23 'Alì b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb b. Sa'ìd al-Shàfi'ì, frère d’Ibn al-Najìb (1er groupe, n° 3) 'Alì b. 'Umar b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Sul†àn al-Ras'anì (2ème groupe, n° 3) 'Alì (Abù al-Óasan) b. 'Uthmàn b. Ya˙yà b. A˙mad al-Lamtùnì al-mu"adhdhin, kàna wàliduhu bi-Kallàsa jàmi' Dimashq, mort en 694/1294 (ijàza 4, fol. 122r.)24

22 Dans Shadharàt, VII, 730, il est précisé qu’il était aveugle: al-∂arìr; W.M. Brinner, ‘The Banù Íaßrà’, Arabica, VII, 1960, 167–195, biographie n° 10, arbre généalogiques et références. 23 Voir infra, notes 4 et 5. 24 'Ibar V, 383 et Shadharàt VII, 745, avec la nisba al-Íunhàjì.

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Amat al-'Azìz bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì al-ma'rùfa bi-al-shaykha, 657–745/1259–1344, 1er groupe, n° 19)25 'Àmir (Shams al-Dìn Abù al- Baqà") b. Ya˙yà Mu˙yì al-Dìn b. Rabbàn al-Khàbùrì thumma al-Ba'labakkì al-mu'ammar al-zàhid (ijàza D, fol. 2v., et ijàza 9, fol. 124r.)26 Balabàn ('Imàd al-Dìn Abù Mu˙ammad) b. 'Abd Allàh alGhulmashì, né vers 633/1235, mort en 709/1309 (ijàza 14, fol. 126r.)27 Fà†ima (Umm al-Khayr) bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì, 665–730/1266–1329 (1er groupe, n° 21)28 Fà†ima (Umm Mu˙ammad) bint Ibràhìm b. Ma˙mùd b. Jawhar al-Ba'labakkiyya al-ma'rùf wàliduhà bi-al-Ba†à"i˙ì (ijàza 16, fol. 126r.) Fà†ima bint Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Yazdì (1er groupe, n° 15) Fà†ima bint Mu˙ammad Shams al-Dìn b. A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn, nièce d’Ibn al-Najìb (1er groupe, n° 5) Hadiyya bint Abì al-Óusayn b. Kha∂ir (2ème groupe, n° 14) Óasan b. Ibràhìm b. Dà"ùd Ibn al-Kha†ìb (2ème groupe, n° 20) Ibràhìm b. (al-faqìh) Sul†àn b. 'Abd al-Wahhàb (2ème groupe, n° 19) Ismà'ìl ('Izz al-Dìn Abù al-Fidà") b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn b. 'Amr (variante: 'Umar) al-Farrà" al-Mardàwì al-Íàli˙ì al-Óanbalì, mort en 701/1301 (signature, et ajout 4, fol. 121v.)29 Ja'far (Ra∂ì al-Dìn Abù al-Fa∂l) b. al-Qàsim b. Ja'far al-Rab'ì alma'rùf bi-Ibn Dabùqà, mort en 691/1292 (ijàza 7, fol. 123r.)30

Elle était l’aînée des filles de son père (akbar banàt wàlidihà), Durar I, n° 1071. Corriger Àbàn en Rabbàn dans Mu'jam al-samà'àt I, 62, ms. 1139, fol. 10r., samà' 24, et Fac-similés 162, dans le certificat écrit verticalement par 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì dans la marge de gauche “'Àmir b. Ya˙yà b. Rabbàn et sa fille Sàra ont participé à une séance de transmission qui s’est tenue à Baalbeck en 664”. 27 C’est de lui qu’il s’agit dans al-Maqrìzì, Kitàb al-Sulùk fì akhbàr al-mulùk, éd. M.M. Ziyadah, Le Caire 1957, I/3, 921, au cours du récit des événements de l’année 701/1301: Balabàn al-Ghalashì, le manuscrit BnF 1726, fol. 285v. porte bien al-Ghulmashì. Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì fournit dans Durar II, 24, n° 1326 une explication sur l’origine de ce nom peu usité: le personnage aurait eu une stature si impressionnante que les gens se seraient écriés en le voyant: “voici un ogre en marche (ghùl màshin), ce qui aurait donné la nisba: al-ghulmashì”. Cette explication ne figure pas dans Íafadì, A'yàn al-'aßr wa-a'wàn al-naßr, éd. 'Alì Abù Zayd et alii, Beyrouth-Damas 1997, n° 458 où il est precisé: “il était le mamelouk du cadi 'Imàd al-Dìn Ibn al-Íà"igh qui lui fit recevoir enseignement dès l’enfance; Balabàn devint amìr au Caire en 701/1301”. 28 Durar III, n° 3182. 29 'Ibar V, 410, Shadharàt V, 455, les deux sources portent: [. . .] b. 'Umar. 30 Ajout d’une génération: b. Óubaysh, et de: al-∂arìr, 'Ibar V, 372, Shadharàt VII, 730. 25 26

     ⁄

377

Kha∂ir b. Abì al-Óusayn b. Kha∂ir (2ème groupe, n° 13) Kubà bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad alYùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 25) Kulthum bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 22) La†ìfa bint Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Yazdì (1er groupe, n° 16) Mahmalak bint Abì Bakr b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Sul†àn alRas'anì (2ème groupe, n° 2) Ma˙mùd b. A˙mad b. 'Amr al-Zur'ì (2ème groupe, n° 10) Mu˙ammad (Shams al-Dìn) b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn (Fakhr al-Dìn) b. Yùsuf b. Mu˙ammad al-Ba'labakkì al-Óanbalì, mort en 699/1299 (2ème groupe, n° 8)31 Mu˙ammad b. Abì al-Fat˙ b. Abì al-Fa∂l al-Ba'lì kàtib asmà"ihim (2ème groupe, n° 17) Mu˙ammad b. Abì l-Óusayn b. Kha∂ir (2ème groupe, n° 12) Mu˙ammad (Abù 'Abd Allàh) b. A˙mad b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn alNajdì (ijàza 13, fol. 125v.) Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. al-Najìb b. Sa'ìd Ibn al-Najìb al-Shàfi'ì 'urifa bi-Ibn Imàm al-Kallàsa, 659?–689/1260?–1290 (1er groupe, n° 1)32 Mu˙ammad ('Imàd al-Dìn) b. 'Alì b. Mu˙ammad al-Bàlisì (?) (signature, et ajout 6, fol. 122v.)33 Mu˙ammad (Taqì al-Dìn) b. 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 17) Mu˙ammad (Shams al-Dìn) b. 'Alì b. al-Mukhliß al-Qazwìnì (1er groupe, n° 9) Mu˙ammad (Najm al-Dìn Abù 'Abd Allàh) b. As'ad b. Naßr Allàh al-Anßàrì Ibn al-Óarastànì (ijàza 8, fol. 123v.) Mu˙ammad (Íadr al-Dìn) b. Óasan b. Yùsuf al-Urmawì (signature, et ajout 5, fol. 122v.)34 Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl b. 'Umar Ibn al-Óamawì35 (1er groupe, n° 7)

31

Yùnìnì, Dhayl Mir"àt al-zamàn, éd. Li Guo, 155; 'Ibar V, 402; Shadharàt VII, 788. Voir supra, note 2. 33 638–711//1240–1311, Ibn Óajar, Durar IV, 210, n° 4094 avec ajout de 2 générations: b. 'Alì b. Manßùr. 34 610–700/1213–1300, il a donc alors 78 ans, Íafadì, Wàfì II, 372, n° 837: ajout: al-Shàfi'ì. 35 680–757/1281–1356, voir Durar IV, n° 3547; G. Vajda La transmission de la mashyakha d’Ibn al-Bukhàrì, où il est nommé huit fois en qualité d’auditeur, de 686 à 689, voir plus haut note 7, et une fois en qualité de musmi' en 754. 32

378

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Mu˙ammad (Shams al-Dìn) b. Ma˙mùd b. A˙mad b. 'Amr alZur'ì (2ème groupe, n° 9)36 Mu˙ammad b. Ma˙mùd Karìm al-Dìn b. al-Óusayn b. al-Mukhliß al-Qazwìnì (1er groupe, n° 10) Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad Shams al-Dìn b. A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn, neveu d’Ibn al-Najìb (1er groupe, n° 6) Mu˙ammad b. 'Umar Abì al-Óusayn b. Kha∂ir al-Ba'labakkì (2ème groupe, n° 11) Mu˙ammad ( Jamàl al-Dìn Abù 'Abd Allàh) b. 'Uthmàn b. 'Abd al-Wahhàb al-Abharì al-Íùfì (ijàza 3, fol. 121v.) MuΩaffar (Shams al-Dìn Abù Ghàlib) b. 'Abd al-Íamad b. Khalìl al-Anßàrì al-mu'ammar (ijàza 5, fol. 122v.) Nà"ila bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad alYùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 24) Ruqayya bint Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Óàrimì al-muqìm bial-jàmi' bi-Dimashq (2ème groupe, n° 15) Sa'ìd, esclave de Mu˙ammad b. Ismà'ìl Ibn al-Óamawì (1er groupe, n° 8) Sitt al-'Arab bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 26) Sitt al-Óusn bint 'Umar b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Sul†àn al-Ras'anì ème (2 groupe, n° 4) Sitt al-Mulùk bint Ma˙mùd Karìm al-Dìn b. al-Mukhliß al-Qazwìnì (1er groupe, n° 12) Sitt al-Rùm bint 'Umar b. Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì b. Sul†àn al-Ras'anì ème (2 groupe, n° 5) Sukayna bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad al-Yùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 23) 'Umar (Fakhr al-Dìn Abù Óafß) b. Ya˙yà b. Mu˙ammad (var.: 'Umar dans Dimyà†ì) al-Karjì al-Shàfi'ì, 599–690/1202–1291 mort le 17 rabì' I ou II, le même jour qu’Ibn al-Bukhàrì (signature, et ajout 2, fol. 121v.)37 Yùnus ('Imàd al-Dìn) b. 'Alì b. Ri∂wàn b. Mu˙ammad b. Qarsaq al-ma'rùf bi-Ibn Qarsaq (signature, et ajout 8, fol. 124r.) Zaynab bint 'Alì Sharaf al-Dìn Abì al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad alYùnìnì (1er groupe, n° 20) 36

Mu'jam al-samà'àt I, 27 (ms. 955, fol. 102r.). 'Ibar V, 369; Shadharàt, VII, 727; al-Subkì, ˇabaqàt al-shàfi'iyya, première édition, V, 145; G. Vajda, Le dictionnaire des Autorités (Mu'jam al-shuyùkh) de 'Abd alMu"min ad-Dimyà†ì, 146: b. 'Umar; et voir Ibn al-Bukhàrì supra, note 4. 37

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Zaynab bint Ma˙mùd Karìm al-Dìn b. al-Mukhliß al-Qazwìnì (1er groupe, n° 13) Zaynab (Umm A˙mad) bint Makkì Najm al-Dìn b. 'Alì b. Kàmil al-Óarrànì wàliduhà al-Dimashqiyya al-mu'ammara, morte en 688/1289 (ijàza 1, fol. 120v.)38 Zaynab bint Mu˙ammad b. 'Abd Allàh al-Óàrimì al-muqìm bi-ljàmi' bi-Dimashq (2ème groupe, n° 16) Zaynab (Umm Mu˙ammad) bint 'Umar b. Kindì al-Kindì, morte en 699/1299 (ijàza E, fol. 2v.)39 Zuhayr (Abù al-Zahr) b. Sàlim b. Abì al-Zahr al-'Asùlì/Ghasùlì (ijàza 12, fol. 125r.)40 ¸àfir (Abù Ghànim) b. Ja'far b. Abì al-Qàsim al-Sulamì al-zàhid (ijàza 10, fol. 124r.) Annexe. Ibn al-Najìb transmetteur à Damas entre 665/1266 et 685/1286 Attestations de la présence d’Ibn al-Najìb (désormais I.al-N.) dans plusieurs séances de lecture et de transmission à Damas entre 665/1266 et 685/1286, d’après le Mu'jam al-samà'àt al-dimashqiyya de Leder, alSawwàs et al-Íàgharjì. Nous précisons son âge au moment des séances, en retenant 659/1260 comme sa date de naissance. Nous ne citons le nombre des assistants à chacune des séances qu’à titre d’information. 1. Page 39: ms. 1039 = majàmi' 223; muntakhab al-˙adìth 345 et risàla 5 = majàmi' 223/1; muntakhab al-˙adìth 33. Le texte: Ibn al-Bukhàrì, Asnà al-maqàßid (G. Vajda a étudié ce texte d’après le ms. d’Istanbul, Reisülküttab 262, voir note 4). Page 40: samà' 5 Fac-similé 70, I.al-N. kàtib à Damas, mosquée MuΩaffarì au pied du Qasyoun en 681/1282. Nombre d’assistants: 122. Samà' de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 22 ans. 2. Page 45: ms. 1088 = majàmi' 245; muntakhab al-˙adìth 135, et risàla 14 = majàmi' 250/1; muntakhab al-˙adìth 105. 38 'Ibar V, 358; Vajda, Dimyà†ì, 155, citée dans Ta"rìkh Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba II, 387, année 744/1343: elle siégeait “sous le cadran solaire” (ta˙t al-sà'àt), et 'Abd Allàh b. Mu˙ammad Ibn Fakhr (2ème groupe; n° 7) reçut, enfant, son enseignement; Shadharàt, V, 404. 39 Shadharàt, VII, 782. 40 Mu'jam al-samà'àt I, index et 87; Fac-similés, ms. 3757, fol. 126v., samà' 32, 274 (le ghayn de al-Ghasùlì est nettement écrit). Ce samà' peu lisible est peut-être à dater de 662.

380

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Texte: min ˙adìth Mu˙ammad b. Yazìd b. 'Abd al-Íamad al-Dimashqì 'an shaykhihi, (Ibn 'Abd al-Íamad mort en 629/1231). Page 54: samà' 21, I.al-N. ne figure pas dans le répertoire car les auteurs n’ont enregistré que les noms des trois acteurs de la transmission: musmi', qàri" et kàtib, mais on retrouve son nom dans le facsimilé. Nombre d’assistants: 27. Fac-similé 129, ligne 6 (I.al-N. musmi' à Damas, mosquée des Umayyades en 684/1285. Le samà' n’est pas de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 25 ans. 3. Page 57: ms. 1137, risàla 1 = majàmi' 1/270; muntakhab al˙adìth 11/taßawwuf 2/478. Texte: Kitàb al-Shukr lillàhi ta'àlà li-Ibn Abì al-Dunyà mort en 281/894. Page 58: samà' 12, I.al-N. musmi' à Damas en 665/1266. Fac-similé 142, on retrouve Shams al-Dìn Abù 'Abd Allàh Mu˙ammad wa-Mu˙yì al Dìn 'Uthmàn ibnay" A˙mad b. 'Uthmàn Imàm al-Kallàsa wa-ibnay ukhtihimà Mu˙ammad wa-Abù Bakr abnà A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Najìb (Najìb sans alif-làm). Nombre d’assistants: 22. Le samà' n’est pas de la main d’ I.al-N., alors âgé de 6 ans. 4. Page 67: ms. 1139, risàla 14 = majàmi' 1/284; muntakhab al˙adìth 187. Texte: al-Fawà"id al-multafi†a wal-fawà"id al-multaqa†a, intiqà Mu˙ammad b. Makkì b. Abì al-Rajà" b. al-Fa∂l Page 67: samà' 11, I.al-N. kàtib à Damas en 679/1280. Nombre d’assistants: 7. Fac-similé 187. Samà' de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 20 ans. 5. Page 74: ms. 1231, risàla 2 = majàmi' 1/326; muntakhab al˙adìth 174; adab 1/175. Texte: Óadìth Quss b. Sà'ida al-I(y)yàdì (riwàyà [. . .] al-Ràzì, mort en 525/1130). Page 75: samà' 11, I.al-N. kàtib à Damas en 685/1286. Nombre d’assistants: 8. Fac-similé 187. Samà' de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 26 ans. 6. Page 107: ms. 3775, risàla 11 = majàmi' 'umariyya 201; muntakhab al-˙adìth 152. Texte: al-Óasan b. Yasàr al-Baßrì, mort en 201/825: Risàlat alÓasan al-Baßrì ilà al-Rammàdì. Page 107: samà' 8, I.al-N. kàtib à Damas en 681. Nombre d’assistants: 2. Fac-similé, 363. Samà' de la main d’I. al-N., alors âgé de 22 ans.

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381

7. Page 125: ms. 3818, risàla 3 = majàmi' 'umariyya 422; muntakhab al-˙adìth 318. Texte: Abù Ya'là Mu˙ammad b. al-Óusayn b. Mu˙ammad alFarrà": Amàlì Abì Ya'là al-Farrà". Page 126: samà' 18, I.al-N. kàtib à Damas à la madrasa Îiyà"iyya en 682/1283. Fac-similé, 447. I.al-N. était bien kàtib, mais il n’a pas écrit le samà' qui est de la main de Yùsuf b. 'Abd al-Ra˙màn al-Zakì b. Yùsuf al-Mizzì. Nombre d’assistants: 8. Le samà' n’est donc pas de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 23 ans. 8. Page 136: ms. 3828, risàla 7 = majàmi' 'umariyya 480; muntakhab al-˙adìth 429. Le texte: Óadìth Hishàm b. 'Ammàr b. Nußayr al-Sulamì al-Dimashqì, mort en 245/859, et 2 autres textes (voir page 137 haut colonne gauche). Page 137: samà' 9, I.al-N. kàtib à Damas en 679/1280. Nombre d’assistants: 3. Fac-similé 495. Samà' de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 20 ans. 9. Page 138: ms. 3828, risàla 9 = majàmi' 'umariyya 481; muntakhab al-˙adìth 218. I.al-N. est trois fois cité dans cette risàla 9. Texte: Mu˙ammad [. . .] Ibn al-Farrà", sitta majàlis min amàlì alqà∂ì Abì Ya'là al-Farrà". Page 139: samà' 13, I.al-N. musmi' près de Damas en 682/1283. Nombre d’assistants: 14. Fac-similé 504. Le samà' n’est pas de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 23 ans. 10. ibid. Texte: Mu˙ammad [. . .] Ibn al-Farrà", sitta majàlis min amàlì al-qà∂ì Abì Ya'là al-Farrà", (même texte que le précédent). Page 139: samà' 14, I.al-N. qàri" et kàtib à Damas, dans la maison de la fille de la musmi'a, (musmi'a dont le nom est Zaynab bint Makkì al-Óarrànì Umm A˙mad, voir supra, liste des personnages) au pied du Qasyoun en 682/1283. Nombre d’assistants: 4. Fac-similé 504. Samà' de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 23 ans. 11. ibid. Page 139: samà' 15, I.al-N. qàri" et kàtib à Damas à la mosquée MuΩaffarì au pied du Qasyoun en 682/1283. Texte: Mu˙ammad [. . .] Ibn al-Farrà", sitta majàlis min amàlì alqà∂ì Abì Ya'là al-Farrà", (même texte que les deux précédents). Nombre d’assistants: 7. Fac-similé 505. Samà' de la main d’I.al-N., alors âgé de 27 ans.

382

jacqueline sublet

Planche 1: MS Damas, Bibl. Asad, fonds ð¸hiriyya 121 ({um¢miyya 3827), fol. 1v)

de passage à damas en 688/1286

383

Planche 2: MS Damas, Bibl. Asad, fonds ð¸hiriyya 121 ({um¢miyya 3827), fol. 120v)


WHEN IS A FAKE A FAKE AND HOW MUCH DOES IT MATTER? ON THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE LETTER OF THE DESCENDANTS OF MUÓAMMAD B. ÍALIÓ TO THE DESCENDANTS OF MU'ÀWIYA B. ÍÀLIÓ David J. Wasserstein (Tel Aviv)

Wenn Gott in seiner Rechten alle Wahrheit und in seiner Linken den einzigen, immer regen Trieb nach Wahrheit, obgleich mit dem Zusatz, mich immer und ewig zu irren, verschlossen hielte und spräche zu mir: Wähle! ich fiele ihm mit Demut in seine Linke und sagte: Vater, gieb! Die reine Wahrheit ist ja doch nur für Dich allein. (Gotthold Lessing, from the Wolfenbüttler Fragmente)

One of the first duties of the historian is to judge the authenticity of the materials upon which historical research and writing are based. The documents which survive from the past come in a wide variety of forms, and while many, perhaps most, are genuine and authentic, such is not always the case.1 We tend often to assume authenticity without giving the matter too much thought; we tend usually not to consider the potential damage to our study of the past caused by the unexposed fake;2 and we tend also, perhaps rather more often still, not to consider the potential contribution of the fake to our understanding of the past. It is a striking truth that the Letters of Phalaris have aroused next to no scholarly interest since they were exposed as a fake by Richard 1 See for useful general discussions, as well as some instructive examples, Kurt von Fritz, ed., Pseudepigrapha I, Pseudopythagorica, Lettres de Platon, Littérature pseudépigraphique juive, Entretiens Hardt XVIII, Vandœuvres-Genève, 1972; Frank Arnau (H. Schmitt), Kunst der Fälscher—Fälscher der Kunst, Dreitausend Jahre Betrug mit Antiquitäten, Düsseldorf, 1959. There does not yet seem to be any similar volume devoted to material from the Islamic world, where the questions and materials involved are complex and plentiful. And see also the book accompanying the excellent British Museum exhibition of 1990, Fake? The Art of Deception, M. Jones, P. Craddock and N. Barker, eds, London, 1990. 2 See Bernard and David Wasserstein, ‘Jacopo Spurioso’, Times Literary Supplement, 14 November 1997.

386

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Bentley in 1697 and in the years immediately following.3 The lengthy dispute between Bentley and Boyle over Bentley’s demonstration of the falsity of the attribution of the authorship of the Letters to Phalaris serves to remind us that scientific truth is not always easily established in the face of commitment to other positions; and the ferocity of that debate serves to remind us that scientific truth itself is not always the only issue in such debates. But the Letters themselves are nevertheless documents of Antiquity (even if it is still not wholly clear when in Antiquity), and could make a signal contribution to our understanding of philosophical and other matters for that period if studied from that point of view. However, the label of fake casts a taint that it is difficult to shed. Among the signal contributions to our field made by the work of Donald Richards is its recognition of the need to resolve questions of authenticity before we make unreserved use of our documentation from the Islamic past. In his work, by paying particular attention to the detail of texts, whether literary or documentary, from the medieval Islamic past, he has drawn our attention time and again to the necessity to look at every detail of a source, and to examine its context in all its aspects, before we abandon ourselves to the potential which it may have for enlightening us.4 The alternative is the darkness. In the present study offered as a tribute to him on his retirement, I should like to look at a case where the decision as to authenticity or fakery is not easily to be arrived at, and where the possibility that we have a fake is itself one that comes weighted with potential usefulness for our study of the sources and of the period. Over a decade ago now, Maribel Fierro produced a remarkable study of the life and career of Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙, and the subse-

3 On Bentley see R.J. White, Dr Bentley, A Study in Academic Scarlet, London, 1965; R.C. Jebb’s short Bentley, London, 1882, is still worth reading, despite the surprisingly caustic judgement of the author (surprising at least to those who still remember using him on Sophocles) offered by the Oxford Companion to English Literature, s. nomine (‘no merit beyond a certain diligence’, ‘when there was need . . . for an understanding of human nature, he could produce nothing but generalities’); the standard work remains the Life by J.H. Monk, 1830. 4 This point was brought home to me very forcefully as a student of Donald’s. I can still recall tutorials from more than a quarter of a century ago which took place on the Cherwell, myself punting, and panting, Donald and my fellow-tutee, another contributor to this volume, concerned with more scholarly matters like the quality of the wine and the authenticity and truth of the label.

           

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quent fate of his reputation in history and legend.5 The study is of importance not just because of the learning and thoroughness of the author but also because of the character to whom it is devoted. Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ is not just another Andalusì Muslim. He is credited with the introduction of ˙adìth into al-Andalus; he is said to have been one of the †àbi'ìs who entered the peninsula; and he is said to have been one of the earliest qà∂ìs there too. On all three counts he is clearly a figure of some importance, and beyond all this he merits the study which Fierro devotes to him because of the problems and contradictions thrown up by our sources on him. These touch almost every aspect of the man’s life and career. Fierro ends her study with the remark that, given their character, it is probably impossible to disentangle thoroughly all the threads in our material. In her study Fierro has occasion to refer to a letter included in the Kitàb Qu∂àt Qur†uba of al-Khushanì. This letter was allegedly sent to the descendants of Mu'àwiya in al-Andalus by descendants of a brother of his, Mu˙ammad, who had remained in Óimß (Emesa), in Syria. The letter is of interest in several ways, as, if genuine, it has the potential to inform us about a number of matters: the very existence of a brother of Mu'àwiya; the fact of his living in Syria; his remaining there when his brother went off to al-Andalus, and his having descendants there; the interest, maintained over some three generations, of those descendants in the subsequent fate of Mu'àwiya and his descendants half a world away from them; the way in which, when the opportunity came to find something out about them, they wished and were able to take advantage of it; the survival of the text of the letter which in effect documents all of this for us; even something about internal boundaries of different kinds in the world of Islam in the third/ninth century.6 Fierro does not in her study pronounce directly on a question of central importance that must be asked in respect of any such

5 Ma. Isabel Fierro, ‘Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ al-Óa∂ramì al-Óimßì: historia y leyenda’, Estudios Onomástico-Biográficos de al-Andalus, I, M. Marín, ed., Madrid, 1988, 281–411, esp. at 351–355, with notes, 402–403. 6 As to this last, I discussed it in a lecture (in Hebrew), entitled ‘Ideas of the other in the world of classical Islam’, delivered at a one-day conference on ‘The other: classical, Jewish and Islamic perspectives’, in Tel Aviv University, on 19 December 2000. I hope that an English version of this lecture will appear in print before too long.

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document, that is, whether it is or is not genuine. She does of course know and refer to the characterisation of the letter a century ago by the learned Julián Ribera as “falsa”.7 But she does not suggest that she agrees with this. Indeed, her use of the document implies strongly what she does not say explicitly, that she rejects Ribera’s assessment of the letter and that she accepts it as genuine. We have thus apparently two clear views of the document, one seeing it as genuine and the other seeing it as false. I think that the question is not as clear-cut as this might suggest, and while I do not feel confident enough to argue wholeheartedly that the document is definitely either genuine or false, it seems to me that it is worth opening the matter for discussion and laying out the questions at issue in the study of this striking document. It seems to me that a considered verdict of not proven is preferable to an unconsidered verdict, whether for or against. I suggest also that the document is of some importance and interest whether or not it is a genuine letter sent by the alleged author to the alleged recipients, not least because of its date: if it is genuine, then it belongs (probably) to the middle or the second half of the third/ninth century, and this fact in itself confers upon it some clear value, quite apart from the real value of the actual information which it contains. We are not rich in letters, of any sort, from this period. And private documents of other sorts, as distinct from literary texts, are also fairly uncommon. A letter, and especially a letter of the strange sort that we have in this document, is distinctly unusual, not to say unique. There do not seem to be any other such letters in our source-materials. Al-Khushanì himself includes in his work the texts of a number of other documents, principally public documents emanating from, and in his time preserved in, government offices, but these are of fundamentally different character. (To say this is not, of course, to affirm their authenticity any more than that of this document.) If, by contrast, it is a forgery, then, unlike many modern forgeries, created long after the alleged time of their creation and for modern concerns, it will have been created at some point between the date of its alleged creation, in the middle to second half of the ninth century, and the date when al-Khushanì incor-

7 Julián Ribera, ed. and tr., Historia de los Jueces de Córdoba por Aljoxaní, Madrid, 1914, VIII, n. 5 (see Fierro, 403, n. 239).

           

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porated it into his book on the judges of Cordoba, in the middle of the tenth century, and for concerns which were very nearly contemporary. The window of time involved here is clearly not very long, and, if the document is a forgery, then the questions which we must ask of it, and the answers which we may be able to give to those questions, will be of at least as great interest as those connected with the document if it is genuine. This reason in itself, beyond the basic desire and formal necessity to know about the genuineness of any piece of our fundamental working material, justifies an enquiry such as this, whatever the result. Although part of the argument that follows will be based on the Arabic of the letter, part will be based on its content as such. The letter was translated (into Spanish) by Ribera in his edition of the text from the manuscript in the Bodleian, but it seems worth offering a new translation of it here. (My translation includes the introductory material prefaced to the letter itself by al-Khushanì. The numbering of the paragraphs is my own).8 1. Mu˙ammad [scil. al-Khushanì] said: And Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ had a brother named Mu˙ammad b. Íàli˙ whose descendants in Syria [Ar. al-Shàm] are numerous. None of them (has) entered al-Andalus. A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman9 said: I saw a letter in which the remnant of his descendants [Ar. baqiyya min wuldihi ] in Syria wrote to the remnant of the descendants of Mu'àwiya in al-Andalus; its text was (as follows): 2. In the name of God the Compassionate, the Merciful. To all the descendants of Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ al-Óa∂ramì from all the descendants of Mu˙ammad b. Íàli˙, may God take you into His charge and embrace you with His favour and support you with His blessing, and grant you great generosity. Now God, may praise of Him be exalted, and may His names be hallowed, has established among people lineages by means of which they are attached to each other, and through which they maintain the strongest of ties and the most solid of strengths. And you, may God grant you pardon, are the closest people [to us] and the most worthy lineage [in relation to us]. You and we are united by the grandfather known as Óudayr. And kinship ties are kinship ties [Ar. wa’l-qiràba bi’l-qiràba], even if

8

The Arabic is in Ribera, 38–40 of the Arabic text, and his translation is at 47–50 of the Spanish text. 9 Identified by Fierro (‘Mu'àwiya’, 403, note 238), on the basis of Ibn al-Fara∂ì (no. 134), as a Cordoban scholar who studied under his own father, as well as a number of other scholars, and was a poet and, strikingly in our context, as will be seen, an expert in lexicography. He died in 347/958.

390

 .  fate has brought about [our] separation from each other, and house is distant from house, it is a need whose support is not weakened by [the fact of ] emigration long ago, and the obligatory [character of] whose rights is not effaced by distance [and the resulting difficulty] of exchanges of visits. 3. We have not ceased, may God give you honour, trying to find out about you; and any one of us to whom God has granted to perform the pilgrimage has not stopped asking about you among the pilgrims from the west (Ar. al-maghrib), seeking to find some of you and desiring to obtain some knowledge of your fate (Ar. 'ilm khabarikum). But God did not permit our enquirer to find a guide to you nor anyone to give (him) information about you, so that it occurred to us—as it occurs after the lapse of nights and days and months and years (Ar. 'alà furù† al-layàlì wa’l-ayyàm wa’l-shuhùr wa’l-a'wàm—note the use of rhyming prose for this formula here)—[to think that you had] died out or (Ar. wa-) had become alienated [from us]. 4. Until God gave us news of what we were looking for about you, which banished what we desired and strengthened (our) despair (the Arabic is obscure). [This was] in the person who brings this letter of ours to you, namely Abù al-Óàrith Bishr b. Mu˙ammad b. Mùsà al-Qurashì. He came to Óimß on his way back to you from Baghdad. And he asked about us because of what ties him to you, for according to what he told [us] you are his maternal uncles, and his mother Umm 'Amr was the daughter of Mu˙ammad b. Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙. And he wanted to return to you with news about us, so he found out about where we were and was directed to us, and a man came from him to us, [a man] of evident refinement and of excellent character, bringing with him news of you and knowledge of your affairs by which our hearts were filled with joy and delight. And we found that whatever we asked him about you and whatever we enquired about his knowledge, he told us [things that] increased our great pleasure in you from God in the elevation of your fates and the nobility of your careers. So praise be to God, Lord of the Worlds, the Generous, the Noble, who has given us knowledge of you and informed us solidly about how well you are doing. So we ask God to fulfil whatever you wish for (leg. ˙ababtum for ˙abaytum?), and to give you more good things, and to give us of your increase, and to compensate you and us for the separation which He has decreed for us, for He has placed distance between us and broken our unity, and [we ask that] He bring us together in His gardens and in the House of His pleasure and the place of His saints (Ar. awliyà"ihi). He is near, responsive (Ar. mujìb). 5. And our letter to you—may God protect you from all evil—we enjoy blessings from God and all His tests of us are good, and our situation among the elite of our people, and all of our clan10 and

10

Ar. 'ataratinà: the meaning of this word remains obscure.

           

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our jund is the situation that you11 would wish that we should have in terms of prosperity and distinction. Bishr b. Mu˙ammad has seen our situation sufficiently to tell you about [it]. 6. So praise be to God and thanks for His goodness and an entreaty to Him for great blessing (Ar. fì ßàli˙ al-mazìd). And peace be upon you and the mercy of God and His blessings (leg. Allàh, not li’llàh)

The contents of this document are extremely interesting. The letter seems to tell us quite a lot, and to supply us with a good deal of information. It is worth looking at it from this point of view. What does it tell us? In the first place, it tells us of the existence of a brother of Mu'àwiya, Mu˙ammad, and of descendants of his, in Syria. On the basis of this, it is also indirectly very informative about the significance of extended family relationships (constructed and construed in the male line—the references to the person who brings the letter from Syria to al-Andalus make it clear that his relationship to the family, in the female line, is merely a helpful accident, and not something that gives him any standing as a member of the family) in the very spread out (and, in terms of Arabs, very thinly populated) Arab world of the third/ninth century. At the same time, it reveals how difficult it was in practice to maintain links, of family or of other types, across the vast distances of the Islamic worldempire and over several generations. The families had lost touch. The way to obtain information about those who were far away, or with whom one had lost touch, was by looking for others who might know them among people performing the ˙ajj. Pilgrims, simply by coming from the same area, in this case the “west”, a large and not very well defined area, might know, or might know about, or might know how to get in touch with, those one was looking for. It was a chancy matter. Just as there might be someone who might know, so there might not be. We learn that a man from al-Andalus might easily travel as far as Baghdad and return via Óimß. If we learn nothing of the purpose or the results of his journey, we see that political differences and the hardships of travel did not make travel impossible. The link with Syria is telling here too, though, like so much else here, ultimately inconclusive. Syria was the home of the Umayyads; the first Umayyad ruler in Cordoba, 'Abd al-Ra˙màn I al-Dàkhil, had maintained contact with sisters of his there; Umayyad supporters

11

Ar. yu˙ibbùna; leg. tu˙ibbùna?

392

 . 

of a variety of sorts continued for a long time to trouble the Abbasids; and ties of blood and emotion continued to be very important for people at both ends of the Mediterranean for many generations. Like so much else about this little text, however, this is ultimately inconclusive—a forger would have drawn the geography of his forgery with an eye to contemporary realities, and the reality in this case does not disappoint. People, places, problems, ideas, social structures, actions—all are illuminated for us by this little text. Closer examination suggests, however, that this in fact amounts to fairly little. The illumination is on low wattage. Beyond generalities, blessings and enquiries about the family members in al-Andalus, we learn in fact almost nothing in detail. Even the hard facts turn out to be, on pushing, a little soft. The existence of a brother seems very exciting, but we know of him only from here, and we learn nothing of him beyond the mere fact of his existence.12 As to descendants of his, they are also known only from here, and like him they form part of the question at issue here, not of any answer. The vast distances in the Islamic world of the third/ninth century, the difficulties of travel and those extra ones imposed by political differences between Abbasids and Iberian Umayyads are all well known, and this letter, if genuine, adds nothing beyond the picturesque to our understanding of it all. Even the significance of the ˙ajj has nothing new about it.13 This letter is in fact highly disappointing. We learn next to nothing that is new or of value. What does the letter then not tell us? We might have expected to learn a good deal from such a letter as this. We might for example have expected to learn the names of some of the members of the family then living in Óimß. We might have expected to learn something of their biographies and of the lives and doings of their ancestors in the male line descending from Mu˙ammad, Mu'àwiya’s 12 Fierro, ‘Mu'àwiya’, 355, says that the kunya of the father of Mu'àwiya, Abù A˙mad, for which she suggests we should read Abù Mu˙ammad, serves to indicate the existence of a son called A˙mad (recte Mu˙ammad, = the Óimßì brother of Mu'àwiya). However, she also suggests that al-Khushanì, our source for this, may simply have deduced the existence of the son from the information in the letter. The argumentation seems a little circular. In any case, a kunya of the form Abù X need not indicate the existence of a son X. 13 Fierro (‘Mu'àwiya’, 403, n. 240) points, quite rightly, to the strangeness of the fact that she was unable to find Bishr in any of the biographical dictionaries, in view of the fact that he had made a journey to the east.

           

393

brother. We might have hoped to learn whether Mu˙ammad was older or younger than Mu'àwiya, when he died, what he had done during his lifetime. We could have entertained the desire to learn something of the fate of Mu˙ammad in the Abbasid world after his brother’s departure for al-Andalus, ruled by the Umayyads. And much, much more. Nothing of this, or for that matter of anything else, is vouchsafed to us by this letter. All we get boils down to a few generalities and blessings. It might be argued that the postman, Bishr, was supposed to supply the hard facts; that it might have been somehow dangerous to expose these to a censor’s discovery in the cold light of ink on paper (or parchment?). The letter-writer actually says almost as much: “Bishr b. Mu˙ammad has seen our situation sufficiently to tell you about it” (paragraph 5 of the translation, above). But the laconicism disappoints. And it does more than disappoint: it suggests that, interesting as the document may be, it is far less interesting than it might have been. It is also much less interesting than it should have been. There is something just a little wanting about its contents, not a little suspicious about its character. Something of this awkwardness stems from our text’s nature as a letter. The letter genre has many sub-types, but this example seems to belong to one that is well-nigh unknown. We all know the personal, private letter. Most of us have a nodding acquaintance with the circular letter addressed to a large and clearly defined audience. The diplomatic communication between monarchs or states is scarcely a novelty. The literary epistle, whether in poetry or in prose, addressed to an imaginary recipient, has a venerable history. The open letter to a politician, published in a newsaper, is hardly less old than newspapers themselves. Where does this letter fit in? It does not seem to belong to any of these categories. It shares the characteristics of several of them: it is somewhat private, in being a letter sent between members of a single family, whose correspondence, if we may so term it, is predicated on the fact of their belonging to a single family. But it is also addressed not to a single individual but to a larger group: mutatis mutandis, we are reminded of the open letter. Given its vagueness, the generality of the information it purveys and the questions it asks, it might also seem to share in the character of the literary epistle, though if we wish to define it in this way then we should also need to identify for it some purpose rather literary in character, and that might well prove less than easy to do. Where does this letter belong?

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 . 

If we look at the way the letter is constructed, at the way it approaches its addressees, asks them questions and speaks of its writers, then we are reminded of such materials as the letters sent to the Samaritans in Nablus in the seventeenth century and afterwards by western scholars like Scaliger and de Sacy, seeking information about this remnant of an ancient Jewish sect. Letters sent into an unknown—yet not quite an unknown: these, like the present case, do not offer us letters in a bottle cast upon the watery deep in the faint hope that they might reach a destination, some destination, any destination. These are letters with definite, if for all that largely unknown, addressees. The descendants of Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙, like the Samaritans, were not known to their correspondents, but their existence was something known to them, so too their location, and mail, if sent, might reach them. Another example, just a little more germane to our present concern, can also be found: this is that of the well-known attempt by the Jewish courtier of al-Óakam II alMustanßir of Cordoba, Hasdai b. Shaprut, to establish contact with the kingdom of the Khazars, in the Caucasus. The rulers and the elite of the Khazar kingdom were Jews, whose ancestors had adopted Judaism in the eighth or ninth century, and it was a matter of more than merely intellectual interest for a Jew in the tenth century to attempt to find out more about them.14 We have now more and more evidence, not only about the Khazars themselves, but also about the surviving parts of the correspondence between Cordoba and the Caucasus, and more and more the documents that we have seem to be parts of a genuine correspondence.15

Genuineness or Falsity? Is the letter authentic? For Ribera, as we have seen, it was “evidentemente falsa”—so obviously that he did not see any need to explain why he thought so. Possibly his argument would have been that the survival of what is in effect a private letter, even so special a private letter as this one, over a period of at least several decades 14 See D.M. Dunlop, The History of the Jewish Khazars, Princeton, 1954; repr. New York, 1967. 15 See Norman Golb and Omeljan Pritsak, Khazarian Hebrew Documents of the Tenth Century, Ithaca and London, 1982.

           

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would have been such a surprising event that we must discount the likelihood of it completely, and regard the letter as a newly created item at or around the time of al-Khushanì’s writing. Even without considering the contents of the letter, we may see the strength of such a position. It is difficult to see what other arguments for falsity might have been so strong that Ribera found it unnecessary even to mention them, and felt it sufficient to say ‘evidentemente’. But is this argument in fact as strong as it looks? And are there not other arguments, at least as compelling, which could be brought forward on the other side? I think that there may be, both in terms of external arguments, based, like this one which I have attributed to Ribera, in common sense, and in terms of internal arguments, through a closer analysis of the form and the contents of the letter as we have it. (It is worth stressing here that since what we have is a text now forming part of a literary document composed nearly a century after the alleged date of the letter itself, any argument, whether as to falsity or as to authenticity, based on the form or the contents of the letter must take account, for better or for worse, of this aspect of the letter’s survival. We have not to do here with an original document containing the original text.) First, though, it may be worth taking a closer look at the arguments for the evident falsity of the letter. In the attempt to make up for Ribera’s silence in this area, I have suggested that if the falsity is evident, this can be only because of the strangeness of the fact of a letter of any sort surviving in such a society for so many years, and decades. There is clearly something in this. But how much can we allow? The letter is not an ordinary personal, private letter, sent by one person to another, nor from one person to another person known to him. It is, or is presented as, something very different, a letter sent from an entire group of people to another group, related to them through people who had lived two or more generations earlier. We can assume that such a letter would have been a highly unusual document; those who received it might well have preserved it. They might even have made copies of it for different members of the family in al-Andalus or, not so very different in such a society, they might have learned it off by heart. In this connection, it is worth noting here that we are told that what we have was related to al-Khushanì by someone who had seen the letter in written form: “A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman said: I saw a letter . . .” (paragraph 1 of the translation, above); and it is worth remembering this

396

 . 

scholar’s interest in lexicography, mentioned above, something that might well have encouraged a greater than normal concern with accuracy of recording and transmission of such a text. That a document of such a type should survive should not, perhaps, surprise or arouse suspicion. It is true that no other such document has survived—but on the other hand, so little has survived, of documentary sort, from al-Andalus, as from other medieval Islamic societies, that we should not be surprised at that—quite the contrary, we should be delighted with the little that hazard has actually preserved, in the form of this letter, even if what we have is not the original document itself but merely a transcription of some sort. But there are other problems. Al-Khushanì tells us about this letter. He does so in very neutral fashion: someone “said: I saw a letter . . .”. He does not come straight out and say that the letter is a forgery; nor does he accept it outright. On the one hand, he was not in the business of declaring his informants to be liars. On the other, he is often a little vague, in just this way; and in any case, further, the informant in this case was someone whom he had every reason to trust. As we have seen, A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman was a respectable scholar of good family, who had studied with a string of other respectable scholars. And he had no good reason to reject the report of the letter: the events surrounding it happened, if they happened, a century before his time, and al-Khushanì will have been aware of how isolated al-Andalus still was at that time.16 This feature of the letter is not an isolated phenomenon. The distancing effect, by which a writer establishes a certain distance between himself and part or all of his source-material, occurs quite widely. It seems to occur as part of authorial attempts to establish for the reader the authenticity of texts, sometimes really authentic, occasionally less so. The text of Marco Polo’s account of his travels has just such a character in it, in the person of the author’s cellmate. And we find a similar feature in the account of the well-known Jewish traveller of the middle ages, Benjamin of Tudela, the text of

16

Not as isolated, though, as all that, as can easily be seen from the study of Ma. Isabel Fierro, ‘Religious beliefs and practices in al-Andalus in the third/ninth century’, Rivista degli Studi Orientali, LXVI, 1992, 15–33; and the successful attempts of the first Umayyad in Cordoba, even in the second/eighth century, to maintain touch with his sisters in Syria also point in a similar direction (though some allowance must be made for royal resources).

           

397

whose travels begins with a statement by a group of unnamed Jewish authorities attesting to its author’s honesty and thus offering some confirmation of the truth of its contents. Examples could easily be multiplied. We find it here again in the text of this very letter, in the person of the unidentified, and barely mentioned, individual who serves as intermediary between Bishr and the members of the family of Mu˙ammad b. Íàli˙ in Óimß. And Bishr himself, considered from the point of view of the literary structure of the letter, seems also to have such a character, and in this case, unlike numerous others in this work where the informant, though described as trustworthy, is not identified by name, here we do have names for almost everyone involved. What role do such characters play in texts of this sort? As I have suggested, they seem to exist mainly to offer a higher degree of authenticity to the texts in which they appear. By existing in the texts, they also of course thicken the cast of characters, by adding to it, and that feature, the sheer number of the people involved, in itself helps to increase the apparent authenticity of what is described. If so many people are involved, and if they are, moreover, people of apparently genuine, not to mention respectable, identities, then the authenticity of what is described as involving them can be seen to be all the greater, and names, identifications, as against the commoner anonymity of al-Khushanì’s trustworthy informants, raise the level of acceptable verisimilitude, or lower the level of necessary willingness to suspend disbelief, which in one sense at least amounts to the same thing. In the present case, as has been seen, we may have as many as three such cases: the first one, A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman, in Cordoba, mediates between the author of the literary text in which our letter is placed and the letter itself; he serves to authenticate the text of the letter. The second, Bishr, serves as the intermediary, the postman, between the members of the family in Óimß and those in al-Andalus; his function, particularly as a nearrelative, is to provide a reliable postal service for the letter as document, and to act as a trustworthy mouthpiece for each side to the other in respect of information about the two families. By coming from the distaff side of the family he also has the advantage that he can appear quite reasonably to have an interest in discovering members of his mother’s family in Óimß. And at the same time he is distanced a little from the real family, the descendants of 'Uthmàn/ Óudayr via Mu'àwiya and Mu˙ammad in the male line. And the

398

 . 

third is the unnamed individual who brings Bishr to the members of his mother’s family in the Syrian city. Despite his anonymity, this man has a role to play too. By being from Óimß, he provides reliable, because local, confirmation of the correctness of the final link in the chain joining the Cordoban family to that in the east. And because he is from there, his anonymity may well not matter. All of these may well have been genuinely existing individuals, who lived and acted as described in our text. We cannot know the truth of this. But by being inserted into the tale, they add greater verisimilitude, or a special type of circumstantial detail, to what might otherwise appear to risk dismissal as unacceptable invention. One curious aspect of the letter demands attention here, because it relates both to the form and to the contents of the letter: while it is from a group and addressed to a group, it is not signed. In a formal sense, it is: it begins, as it should, immediately after the bismillah, with a statement of the identity of the addressees and of that of the writers. The difficulty is that these are given in the form “To all the descendants of Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ al-Óa∂ramì from all the descendants of Mu˙ammad b. Íàli˙”. We seek here in vain for any names of actual living writers. It could be countered that the postman was supposed to give detailed information about the Syrian side of the family to the Andalusìs, and so there was no need to put such detail into the text itself. But there is something decidedly odd about a letter of this sort which fails to give any information about the exact identities of the writers, and for that matter includes nothing but generalities about the well-being and prosperity of the senders. Although we all know stories of people who are unwilling to say too much about their own good fortune lest it call forth begging letters from poorer relatives, in this case such an argument could scarcely have applied. The writers refer explicitly to the fact that they have heard from their informant about the success of their relatives in alAndalus, and they more than hint at their own worldly success. The anonymity of our text is odd. And the parsimony of the writers with information about themselves is odder still. In part these problems can be countered by the fact that we do not have the original, and that such details may have been lost in the transmission from letter-document to literary text; but as against that the way in which the text of the letter is cast seems to make it clear that there never was any information about individual identities in it. Not only the

           

399

fact, which is mentioned in the letter, that the postman was to give such information orally but also the fact that the information about the Syrians is so general militate against such a position. Are we to assume that the general state of relations, from the point of view of politics and security, between al-Andalus and the lands subordinate in one way or another to the Abbasids made it inadvisable to be too explicit about such matters in writing? A further feature of the textual aspect of the letter possesses some potential interest. This is the use, near the end of the letter, when the Syrian members of the family tell the Andalusìs that they are doing well, of the word jund. They say there “wa-˙àlunà fì khàßßat qawminà wa-kàfat 'ataratinà wa-jundinà al-˙àl al-latì yu˙ibbùna (leg. tu˙ibbùna?) an nakùna bi-hà wa-'alayhà . . .” (“and our situation among the elite of our people, and all of our clan and our jund is the situation that you would wish that we should have”; see section 5 of the translation, above, with the notes). The term jund in the sort of sense which seems to be that intended here, and that demanded also by the context, seems not to refer to a form of military organisation but rather to something like social organisation or even status. Is this an indicator of a problem? The history of the junds, as bases for military and social organisation, differs as between al-Andalus and the east, and it would be good to be able to obtain help from the usage of terms like this in such a case. To begin with, the word jund indicated little more than ‘armed troop’, but under the Umayyads in the east it soon came to refer to military settlements and districts where Arab soldiers were quartered; and by a natural evolution it then came to mean also the corresponding military corps. This range of meanings survived as late as the time of the Mamluks, although gradually we see also the entry of a general meaning of ‘armed forces’ as well. However, in geographical writers of as early as the third/ninth and fourth/tenth centuries, we find also the use of the term jund in the plural, ajnàd, with the meaning of ‘large towns’, parallel in this sense to the word amßàr.17 In al-Andalus things were somewhat different. The junds survived as distinct territorial and ethnic organisational units for military purposes in al-Andalus until the time of al-Manßùr, in the latter half of the fourth/tenth century.

17

See EI 2, s.v. ‘Djund’ (D. Sourdel).

400

 . 

During his period of rule, the great Andalusì dictator finally dispensed with them, introducing altogether new sources and methods of recruitment to local armies.18 What this means is that in the middle of the fourth/tenth century, the time when our letter is supposed to have been written, such a loose general meaning as the word calls for here was available both in the east and in the west, though in the east this looser sense was perhaps by then more normal than in the west. This might appear to support an argument for authenticity. However, the fact that the word could have been used also in al-Andalus at around the time of a forgery with more or less the same meaning has the consequence that we cannot use this as a conclusive argument for authenticity. The use of the term jund in our text in this sense therefore counts for little either way. It is noteworthy, also, that the letter refers to a “grandfather called Óudayr” (Ar. al-jadd al-ma'rùf bi-Óudayr): it is odd because we know that the grandfather of Mu'àwiya and of his brother Mu˙ammad was called not Óudayr but 'Uthmàn.19 We might argue that a mistake of this sort should be seen as evidence of the work of a not very adept forger. And if it were suggested that Óudayr was the name not of the grandfather himself but of a more distant ancestor, since the Arabic word jadd can after all have both meanings, then the rebuttal to this should be that the whole point of the family relationship argued for in this letter is that it concerns the descendants of a father, at best a grandfather, of the two brothers. Anyone further back in the family tree would make the potential family much larger, and the whole point of the re-establishment of family ties across the Mediterranean would be smothered. Here we are concerned with the relationship between the descendants of the two brothers alone. The problem with this sort of argument is that it can cut both ways: the word jadd could indeed be used here in the more general sense of ancestor; we are not compelled to accept the argument just offered, about the number of generations which are relevant to the perceived significance of family relationships; and as

18 See Pierre Guichard, Structures sociales “orientales” et “occidentales” dans l’Espagne musulmane, Paris-La Haye (Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, Centre de Recherches Historiques, Civilisations et Sociétés, 60), 1977, 213–233, esp. 219–222. 19 Fierro, ‘Mu'àwiya’, 352, offers a handy family tree, which goes back, however, only to the father, Íàli˙.

           

401

to the possible confusion between Óudayr and 'Uthmàn, that could reflect some confusion between kunyas and actual names, as Fierro suggests.20 If the letter is genuine, it is of great interest. It is not a personal letter; but it is also not wholly a non-personal letter. It occupies a very strange intermediate position between the two characterisations. If, per contra, we have to do here with a forgery, the letter may well be considerably more interesting than a genuine letter with so little real information in it turns out to be. We have then to ask when it might have been composed. And why. And by whom. All three of these questions are difficult to answer—but this fact, this difficulty, of itself, cannot, in terms of strict logic, be a good argument against a verdict of forgery. As to when a forgery might have been made, we have, as a starting point, the period between the alleged date of composition and the date of inclusion of the text in al-Khushanì’s work. We can exclude a later period than al-Khushanì, on the fairly safe assumption that the letter does not constitute a later insertion into his text. The form of the text as we have it seems to confirm that our letter was put into his book by al-Khushanì himself. And we can also, probably, exclude the possibility that al-Khushanì actually forged it. He does not seem to have been that sort of writer. This still leaves us with a period of approximately a century during which the letter might have been forged. This is much too long for comfort. Why? By whom? These two questions perhaps offer a surer guide. Cui bono? Why would anyone want to forge such a document? What possible interest could anyone have in forging such a document? At this point it may be worth excluding the existence of known descendants of the family in Óimß. Maribel Fierro has drawn up a very clear and useful genealogical tree of the family of Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙.21 From this we see at a glance that while we know, of the family as a whole, some fourteen named individuals, including Mu'àwiya himself and his father, there is only one individual among the fourteen (other than Mu'àwiya and his father, of course) belonging to the oriental section of the family, namely the brother Mu˙ammad. From the letter, and from the exhaustive study which

20 21

Fierro, ‘Mu'àwiya’, 355. Fierro, ‘Mu'àwiya’, 352.

402

 . 

Maribel Fierro has devoted to the character of Mu'àwiya, we do not learn about a single other named person descended from Mu'àwiya’s brother Mu˙ammad. This must arouse our suspicions: we must wonder about the reality of their existence, consequently about the authenticity of the letter attributed to them, and in consequence of that about the truth value of anything contained in that letter. In other words, if we cannot be sure of the truth of the existence of the alleged family of the alleged brother of Mu'àwiya, then we must have very strong reasons to doubt everything associated with them, and that of course includes the letter and everything contained in it. One of the things contained in it is the brother of Mu'àwiya, Mu˙ammad himself. He is known only from this text. If this text is not genuine, it is scarcely likely that he will have existed. It is a striking fact, in this context, that Maribel Fierro has not turned up a single member of the family in the east. It is not for want of trying—a glance at her study serves to show the range and the depth of her reading on this. She has looked, and she has not found anyone. If she has not found anyone, it is a fair assumption that there is no one there to be found. Our sources are silent. This is striking because of what the letter itself tells us: the family has done well in the east since Mu'àwiya left for the west. Should we not have some evidence of someone related to this Mu˙ammad in the period since Mu'àwiya left, someone who had done so well as to leave some mark at least in the rich and numerous biographical dictionaries? Or are we to assume, from what is said in the letter, that their success was not of the sort that brought people into biographical dictionaries? Perhaps they had done well in trade? or in professions not connected with the religious sciences? Perhaps they simply did not leave their mark in a way convenient for the modern researcher. It is of course possible, and in theory at least we cannot reject such a possibility out of hand. But it is worth drawing attention to the fact that this problem exists not only in the case of other members of the family; it is true also of the principal one, the brother Mu˙ammad; and it is true also of the traveller-postman, Bishr. Are they all made up out of whole cloth? It is true that to use the argument that we have no evidence for anyone to demonstrate that there was no one is very much the argument ex silentio. But some silences are louder than others. This is perhaps a case where if a dog didn’t bark in the night, it failed to do so at medium volume.

           

403

We return to the questions why? and by whom? Who might have had an interest in forging such a letter as this? We may recall the fact that the middle of the fourth/tenth century seems to have been a period of huge growth in conversion to Islam in al-Andalus, and a period also, in consequence, of considerable inter-marriage between convert families and non-convert families. The result was that there were many more Muslims around, there was in consequence a vastly greater amount of genealogical information around about Muslims, the correct details of many genealogies were beginning to be forgotten, and new genealogies were being invented by converts who sought to better their standing in the society of which they were new members. May we see in this letter an example of work in this direction? Are we entitled to see in this letter an attempt by new converts to invent an attachment to an old Arab family? or perhaps an attempt by members of an old Arab family to bolster the genuineness of their claims? The letter was seen, allegedly, by A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman, who died in 347/958. Nothing is known of it, beyond what we are told here, before that date. The date would fit; but would the motive? Can we see the descendants of Mu'àwiya in al-Andalus as needing such a document? Perhaps we may. One of the things that strike us as we read Maribel Fierro’s account of the family is that they do not seem to have been like many other Arab families in al-Andalus of whom we know, producing, generation after generation, men of learning in ˙adìth and fiqh, people who went off on the ˙ajj or fì †alab al-'ilm, ending up in the biographical dictionaries that were beginning to be written, in al-Andalus, around the middle of the fourth/tenth century, by people like al-Khushanì himself. On the contrary, the family tree and the analysis of the characters in it that we find in Fierro’s exceptionally detailed study alike show that this was not a learned family. It may well not have been a very prominent family in other ways too, for we scarcely hear of any members of it in the whole of our sourcematerial for the peninsula. May it be that the family saw a way, at a time when al-Khushanì was composing his biographical works, to establish for themselves a guarantee of their future status in a world in which genuine Arab descent would certainly always be a good thing? Might they themselves have produced the letter or shown it to A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman? Means, apparently. Opportunity, almost certainly. Motive, perhaps. If these are not sufficient to convict, they are certainly enough to make one wonder.

404

 .  Conclusion

We arrive at inconclusive results: if there does not seem to be any compelling reason to accept our document as genuine, there seems to be no way of demonstrating definitively that it is false. The arguments for genuineness are essentially negative: even if we cannot find demonstrable evidences of genuineness, nor can we demonstrate falsity conclusively—and it would be nice to have a genuine text of this sort. But the arguments for falsity are not strong either: each of them, taken individually, is weak, and even in combination they do not present a compelling case. If there are good reasons which might have motivated forgery, there is also nothing about the document which arouses sufficient suspicion to cast serious doubt on its genuineness. If we feel doubts about the document, we still cannot find a plausible forger or a sufficiently persuasive set of motives for him to have acted. The letter seems, if genuine, to belong to a more or less unknown genre; it is not a private letter, from a single writer to a single addressee, but a semi-private letter from a rather unidentified group of writers to an equally unidentified group of addressees; on the other hand, as a medieval equivalent of the letter cast into the sea in a bottle, the parallels to it that we have seen mean that it need not arouse so very much suspicion on that account. We seem to be left with a definite verdict of not proven. That may seem a little wretched—the refusal to take responsibility for a clear-cut decision. But not proven is a valuable verdict in itself: it is worth remembering that the old Scottish verdict “indicates suspicion, but a want of proof of guilt”.22 The accused goes free; the suspicion remains.23

22 John R. McCulloch, A Descriptive and Statistical Account of the British Empire, 18542 (first ed. 1846), II, 225, cited in the Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, 2339, s.v. ‘prove’. 23 I thank Maribel Fierro for reading and commenting on a draft of this paper. She is of course not responsible for the result.

MATERIALS FOR THE STUDY OF ARABIC IN THE AGE OF THE EARLY PRINTED BOOK David Morray (Dublin)

The second century, properly speaking, of the early printed book, that is, the seventeenth century, is a particularly significant one in the history of the study of Arabic in Europe. For it was during the seventeenth century, and predominantly although not exclusively in the Protestant states of Europe, that materials for the study of the language were produced, which would continue to be used for the next two centuries. The seventeenth century saw a revival of interest in Arabic. As is well known, during the Dark Ages, Arabic held the key to the reserves of Greek and Hellenistic philosophy, science and technology, for it was the language in which these had been preserved. Accordingly, a knowledge of Arabic was eagerly sought by the scholars of medieval Christendom. But, once the material had been translated into Latin, there was no further interest in Arabic: the concern had always been in the texts preserved in the language, and not in Arabic per se. As one commentator has put it: “Perceived in these terms, therefore, the occurrence of a ‘second wave’ of ‘Arabick’ interest is not only unexpected, it is astonishing”.1 He identifies three principal reasons for the so-called ‘second wave’: first, the usefulness of Arabic to Protestant theology; secondly, the Renaissance discovery of the Greek originals of Latin translations of Arabicised Greek texts; and thirdly, the role Arabic was seen to play in the political and commercial expansion of Europe. For the Protestant Reformation the Bible was the source of religious authority, in contradistinction to the Catholic Church’s belief that authority had devolved according to the principle of apostolic succession. The primacy, in the Protestant view, of the Bible as the source of authority made textual accuracy of critical importance. It

1 G.A. Russell, ‘Introduction: the age of “Arabick”’, in G.A. Russell, ed., The ‘Arabick’ Interest of the Natural Philosophers in Seventeenth-Century England, Leiden, 1994, 3.

406

 

was therefore necessary to re-establish the authority of the original Greek and Hebrew texts, which could then be used as a basis for translations of the Scriptures into the spoken European languages. Arabic, together with Syriac and Aramaic, became important because of its perceived descent from Hebrew. Scholars believed that a knowledge of Arabic could help to clarify the Bible, especially the Old Testament. Although the Renaissance discovery of Greek originals had enabled scholars to correct many of the Latin translations of the often corrupt intervening Arabic recensions, there was still a need to consult some of the Arabic material on which the Latin translations were based. The Greek originals of some of the Latin works had been lost, and survived only in the intervening Arabic; some Latinised Arabic texts contained knowledge, unknown to the Greeks, that had been contributed by their Arabic sources. European political and commercial expansion, both Catholic and Protestant, were significant factors in the recrudescence of interest in Arabic. The apparently enduring strength of the Ottoman Empire throughout the seventeenth century concealed the fact that essential changes had taken place in the ‘real relationship of power’,2 whereby Europe was stronger, not only in military and technological terms, but also economically. Islamic power was circumscribed by the consolidation of the power, first of the Portuguese, and then later of the Dutch and English, in both Asia and Africa. But spoken and written Arabic remained an important element in the extensive area where Muslim ascendancy had given way to the domination of the West. The development of centres for the study of Arabic in Europe reflects the shared and particular interests of the Catholic and Protestant camps in the language. Arabic chairs were established at Paris in 1535 and at Rome in 1584. It was in the Protestant states of Europe that new institutionalisation of the study of Arabic took place in the succeeding century. Leiden received its professorship of Arabic in 1599, and chairs were endowed at Cambridge in 1632, and at Oxford in 1636. Arabic was taught in the upper forms of London’s Westminster School by the Headmaster, Richard Busby, himself a noted Arabist. There were also independent teachers of

2

Russell, The ‘Arabick’ Interest, 7.

     

407

Arabic in London (the ‘Third University of England’), and Arabic was one of the languages taught in private academies in the city.3 Probably the most distinguished European Arabist of the seventeenth century has left a very clear idea of what he regarded as the value of the study of the Arabic language. Thomas Erpenius (1584–1624) was the second holder of the chair of Arabic established at Leiden in 1599. He held it until his premature death from the plague at the age of 40. In an oration on the Arabic language, addressed to the Nobiles et Studiosi Juvenes and delivered in 1620, which was published at Leiden in 1621, he starts with the mandatory hostile account of the rise of Islam. (The acknowledged importance of Arabic to Biblical scholarship was one thing; the value of the Muslim faith and culture another.) The mood then changes: “In a few words, my learned hearers,” he says, “we have made clear who the Arabs were. It is now the moment for us to turn to their language.” For the language and literature of the Arabs, Erpenius has nothing but praise. “They have historical works, good God, how many! how exact! how trustworthy! not only about the history of the Greeks and Romans, but also about the Chaldeans, Assyrians, Persians, Indians, Tartars, the Arabs themselves, Egyptians and Africans . . .” And then: “They number sixty poets of the first rank, who have many squadrons under them, and in whose writings there is such elegance of invention, as well as learning, care in composition, and sweetness of harmony and rhythm that anyone who reads or hears them is totally carried by their charm.” Erpenius makes a case for the study of Arabic on theological, intellectual and aesthetic grounds: theological, because a knowledge of Arabic can illuminate the Hebrew of the Scriptures, and can inform the Christian polemic against Islam, as well as making that polemic understandable by Arabs; intellectual, because of the material written in Arabic on medicine, law, philosophy, mathematics, history and geography; and aesthetically, because, as he puts it, “consider how much pleasure and delight you would derive from so many poets of a people who were born for that, if ever a people was”.4

3 V. Salmon, ‘Arabists and linguists in seventeenth-century England’, in The ‘Arabick’ Interest, 61–62. 4 R. Jones, ‘Thomas Erpenius (1584–1624) on the value of the Arabic language’, Manuscripts of the Middle East, 1, 1986, 15–25.

408

 

Available materials at the end of the sixteenth century, with which teachers like Erpenius might convey their enthusiasm to the studiosi juvenes, appear to have been exclusively products of Catholic Europe. The standard grammar was a work by the pioneer of oriental studies in France, Guillaume Postel. It was published it in 1538 or 1539, upon Postel’s return from a visit to the Levant to study and collect materials, at the behest of Francis I. Texts included a Qur"àn published at Venice in about the same year, and a geographical tract published at Rome in 1585. All that amounted to a bilingual dictionary was Pedro de Alcala’s Vocabulista of 1505, a Spanish-Arabic glossary in transcription only. The end of the sixteenth century had seen a burgeoning of Arabic printing, but the results were not calculated to assist European students in learning the language. Seven Arabic texts were published at Rome between 1590 and 1595 by the Typographia Medicea, the press founded by Cardinal Ferdinando de’ Medici, later to become Grand Duke of Tuscany. Two of these were Christian Arabic texts issued in Arabic and bilingual Arabic-Latin editions; the other five were monolingual editions of scientific Arabic texts.5 They included Ibn Sìnà’s al-Qànùn fì al-†ibb (the Canon), Euclid’s Elementorum Geometricorum, a geography, and two grammatical texts, bound together. There was also an Alphabetum Arabicum, which was a Latin introduction to the Arabic alphabet. Reading exercises at the end of the Alphabetum include the Lord’s Prayer, the Angel’s address to Mary, the 112th Psalm, the 116th Psalm, and the beginning of St John’s Gospel. Reaction to the arrival of these publications was mixed, but invigorating. Most agreed that the appearance of the Arabic script used was superb: Erpenius refers in the oration we have considered to the “most extravagant and tasteful Typographia Medicea”.6 But fault was at the same time found with the accuracy of the Arabic. Erpenius described one of the two grammatical texts as a “little book . . . with very elegant lettering but [published] quite incorrectly with omissions here and there not so much of [individual] works but of whole sentences”.7 More significantly, Northern European Arabists were surprised at what had been chosen for publication. They felt that, 5 R. Jones, ‘The Medici Oriental Press (Rome 1584–1614) and the impact of its Arabic publications on northern Europe’, in The ‘Arabick’ Interest, 88. 6 Jones, ‘Thomas Erpenius’, 23. 7 Jones, ‘Medici’, 91.

     

409

given the paucity of teaching materials in Europe, efforts should have been concentrated on producing a grammar book and a dictionary, rather than monolingual, unvocalised editions of difficult works.8 The choice of texts, the editing, and the layout of most of the Medici Press’s books indicate that, for a mixture of ideological and commercial reasons, the publishers were targetting the native Arabicspeaking Eastern market, both Christian and Muslim. None of the books contain the prefaces and introductions usually found in European books. Some of the issues of the secular texts do not reveal where they were published. The design of Eastern MS copyists is carefully imitated: titles and headings are rubricated; the text window is often ruled; and the text usually ends with a colophon in the shape of an inverted pyramid. The only Medici Press publication which was aimed at the European market, the Alphabetum, hardly addresses the problems of the Arabic teacher and his student. It teaches the beginner how to declaim a vocalised text, but it does not help him with the other, unvocalised publications produced by the Medici Press, for example, the two grammatical tracts.9 Arguably the Medici productions stimulated the scholars of especially Protestant Europe to write the books which they said should have been published by the Press. In some cases, Medici editions suggested texts, and furnished materials, for what was a new list of often inter-related dictionaries, grammars and texts. At the end of his oration, which was given in November of 1620, Erpenius was able to refer to a reading-list of materials, most of which he himself had written: “I have decided to teach you in such a way that, provided you show due diligence, when I have dismissed you before the next dog days, you will understand on your own account a historical text in Arabic and, with the use of a dictionary, other more difficult texts. In order to achieve this, I will lecture you at first on the rudiments of the language and deal with that in four or five weeks. Then I shall show you how to put them into practice publicly with the book of Proverbs with the Latin version and notes by Joseph Scaliger, which I have edited; and in private study, with the Story of Joseph from the Quran also published by me with my translation and notes. To these I will add a historical text of some sort . . .”10

8 9 10

Jones, ‘Medici’, 89–90. Jones, ‘Medici’, 97, 8. Jones, ‘Erpenius’, 25.

410

 

We can put titles and dates on Erpenius’s coursebooks. The grammar that must have accompanied his (rather intensive, one supposes) introductory course, would have been his own Grammatica Arabica, first published at Leiden in 1613. It was to remain the standard Arabic grammar in Europe for nearly two centuries.11 The work is divided into five sections, four of morphology, and one of syntax. The dictionary he refers to would have been the Lexicon Arabicum, compiled by the scholar-printer Francisco Raphelengius (1539–1597). Published posthumously at Leiden in 1613 by the author’s sons, it was the first proper Arabic dictionary to be printed. Itself containing comments by Erpenius, it was intended to be bound in with the latter’s grammar, published later that year. Raphelengius had lamented the Medici Press’s failure, as he put it, “to slake the thirst of our still ignorant Europeans”.12 At the same time, he certainly made use of some of the Medici publications when compiling his lexicon.13 The book of Proverbs through which Erpenius promises to take his students is a collection of 200 aphorisms, in Arabic, with a translation and commentary in Latin, gathered in collaboration with Joseph Scaliger (1540–1609). The text which Erpenius says his students are to study by themselves, the Historia Joseph Patriarchae, was first published at Leiden in 1617. The work begins with an alphabetum treated at some length. The core consists of Sùrat Yùsuf. There is a literal Latin interlinear translation, (where the order of the words, although not, thankfully, the letters, follows the right-to-left direction of the Arabic), with a freer Latin rendering in the margin. Extensive notes follow. The work is completed with an interesting collection, for comparative purposes, of translations of the Fàti˙a. The “historical text of some sort” which Erpenius mentions might well have been the MS of the second part of a thirteenth century Arabic chronicle, the Ta"rìkh al-muslimìn, by the Coptic author Georgios al-Makìn Ibn al'Amìd. Erpenius’s edited text and Latin translation of the work were published posthumously at Leiden in 1625. The folio edition, which contains both Arabic text and Latin translation, was the first historical work in Arabic to be published in Europe. The MS which Erpenius used was among the manuscripts which the Bodleian received 11 A. Hamilton, ‘“Nam tirones sumus” Francis Raphelengius’ Lexicon ArabicoLatinum, Leiden 1613’, De Gulden Passer, 5, 1966–7, 581. 12 Jones, ‘Medici’, 90. 13 Hamilton, 566, 8.

     

411

in 1714 by the will of Archbishop Marsh, who had died the previous year.14 A pattern of inter-related scholars and materials emerges. It would seem that a similar sort of curriculum to Erpenius’s was taught by Edward Pococke (1604–1691), first holder of the chair of Arabic at Oxford endowed by Archbishop Laud in 1636, and the greatest English Arabist of the seventeenth century. From a life of Pococke written after his death, but based on contemporary sources now lost, we learn that he followed his inaugural lecture at Oxford with a course of lectures on a text, the Proverbia Alis, published at Leiden in 1629.15 The editor, Jakobus Golius (1596–1667), successor to Erpenius in the professorship at Leiden, was at the centre of Arabic and mathematical studies in Europe for nearly half a century. The Proverbia is a reader containing four Arabic texts, without translation or notes: the eponymous proverbs, an anthology of sayings attributed to 'Ali b. Abì ˇàlib; a twelfth century poem, the Làmiyyat al'Ajam, known to seventeenth century Europe as the Carmen Tograi, after the author, al-ˇughrà'ì; an address; and some miscellaneous verses. Pococke published an annotated edition and Latin translation of Carmen Tograi at Oxford in 1661. From another fragment, apparently the notebook of one of Pococke’s pupils, we know which grammar Pococke used for his course on Golius’s reader. It was Erpenius’s Rudimenta linguae Arabicae, a slightly shortened version of the Grammatica Arabica, and first published at Leiden in 1620. Pococke also used Erpenius’s Grammatica Arabica dicta Gjarumia, which was published at Leiden in 1617. This incorporated the Àjurrùmiyya by Ibn Àjurrùm al-Íanhàjì, which had been published by the Medici Press in 1592.16 It was to be edited and translated again, and published at Rome in 1631. In this way a ‘native’ grammar was turned into a teaching book for non-native speakers of Arabic. Pococke kept abreast of developments in the field. In 1656, Golius re-issued Erpenius’s Grammatica Arabica, turning it into a grammarcum-reader by the addition of a chrestomathy. Pococke used at least

14 C. Wakefield, ‘Arabic manuscripts in the Bodleian Library’, in The ‘Arabick’ Interest, 137. 15 P.M. Holt, ‘An Oxford Arabist: Edward Pococke (1601–91)’, Studies in the History of the Near East, London, 1973, 6. 16 Holt, 6–7.

412

 

one of the items in the chrestomathy in lectures given to an audience apparently more advanced than the one for which the lectures on the Proverbia Alis were intended.17 Records at Oxford of donations by former students of their books show that at least some of these books were owned by the students. Arguably this is surer evidence for the use of a book, especially a book used in learning a language, than that afforded by the fact that the book was in a library. It would seem that the typical student of Arabic regarded the language as an extension of his Hebrew studies. He would possess a grammar and a dictionary, and his reading matter would be from the Bible. Thus a donation of books in 1654 to New College consisted of a grammar; two dictionaries: Raphelengius’s, and a copy of the successor to Raphelengius’s work, Golius’s Lexicon Arabico-Latinum, published in 1653 (the owner did not have it for long); a copy of Erpenius’s edition of an Arabic version of the New Testament, published at Leiden in 1616, and the first complete edition of the New Testament in Arabic; and a copy of Gabriele Sionita’s edition, Arabic with the Latin text, of the Psalms, first published at Rome in 1614.18 But some holdings were more extensive, indicating a deeper interest. The catalogue of the books of Edward Bernard (1638–1696), later to be Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford, made in 1658, when Bernard was twenty, reveals that he owned Golius’s re-issue of Erpenius’s grammar (published two years before); the Proverbia Alis (which text he was presumably lectured in by Edward Pococke, who we know used it); Erpenius’s edition and translation of al-Makìn Ibn al-'Amìd; Pococke’s Specimen historiae Arabum, published at Oxford in 1650, an edition of a small part of a chronicle by the thirteenthcentury writer Bar Hebraeus, with a much longer commentary that draws on a number of MS sources; and Christian Ravius’s edition of the first juz" of the Qur"àn, published at Amsterdam in 1646.19 As far as the curriculum and study of Arabic in seventeenthcentury Dublin is concerned, information is rather scanty. But two factors suggest a programme similar to Edward Pococke’s at Oxford, 17

Holt, 7. M. Feingold, ‘Oriental studies’, in N. Tyacke, ed., The History of the University of Oxford. Vol. IV: Seventeenth-Century Oxford, Oxford, 1997, 489. 19 Feingold, ‘Patrons and professors: the origins and motives for the endowment of university chairs—in particular the Laudian Professorship of Arabic’, in The ‘Arabick’ Interest, 124–125. 18

     

413

or, indeed, Erpenius’s at Leiden. These factors were: a succession, lasting most of the century, of academics who knew Arabic, or who were interested in the language, for whatever reason; and the number of books in Trinity College Library relating to Arabic. There would certainly have been no shortage of interested teachers. It was the age of Ambrose Ussher (1582–1629); James Ussher (1581–1656); Dudley Loftus (1618–1695), who was sent in 1639 by James Ussher to study Arabic under Pococke at Oxford; Robert Huntingdon (1637–1701); and Narcissus Marsh (1638–1713). The books were also there. At least one copy of nearly all the works mentioned above is to be found in the Library of Trinity College. Some of these we know were in the Library in 1664, because there is an MS catalogue of the books, or at least of some of the books, in the Library in that year. The list includes a copy of the Medici Alphabetum (also listed in an older catalogue, apparently compiled in 1610);20 Erpenius’s 1613 grammar and some of its successors; and Raphelengius’s dictionary.21 In some cases, of course, we know that a book was owned by someone who was concerned with Arabic. Most obviously, of course, there are Marsh’s own Arabic books, which are in the Library he had built in 1701. Names inscribed in Arabic and Arabic-related books in Trinity College Library include that of William Palliser, who entered the University in 1660, and was Professor of Divinity from 1678 until 1692. Amongst other books bearing on the language, he owned a copy of Golius’s 1656 re-issue of Erpenius’s grammar. Palliser left his books to Trinity College. So, too, did Claudius Gilbert, who entered the University in 1686, and became ViceProvost and Regius Professor of Divinity.22 Among the works listed in the MS catalogue of his library are Erpenius’s grammar and his edition of Ibn al-'Amìd’s chronicle, as well as Golius’s Lexicon Arabicum. Sometimes, the price which Gilbert paid for an item is recorded: the Ibn al-'Amìd cost fourteen shillings, while the dictionary set him back one pound and three shillings.23 There is one interesting octavo volume in Trinity College Library, the contents of which suggest that it might have been a teacher’s 20 21 22 23

University of Dublin, Trinity College: MS 2. University of Dublin, Trinity College: MS 5. J.W. Stubbs, The History of the University of Dublin, Dublin, 1889, 177. Trinity College: MS 11.

414

 

(or more than one teacher’s) annotated textbook, although when and where and by whom it may have been so used are far from clear.24 Three printed items are bound together: a copy of an edition of the Arabic text of Ibn Sìnà’s lines on the description of the human soul, occupying a single quarto sheet, and published at Leiden in 1633 (and not, as far as I have been able to discover, described in any of the first-port-of-call works of reference);25 the familiar Proverbia Alis, which includes the Carmen Tograi of Golius; and the Erpenius/ Scaliger anthology of 200 aphorisms, the Proverbiorum Arabicorum. Then, as well as a handwritten interlinear glossary in some of the printed Arabic text, we find on the generously supplied intervening blank pages a number of other handwritten items. They include a translation of the qaßìda; some lines of the poem in Arabic, presumably by way of practice; the Arabic text of the Amthàl Luqmàn al-Óakìm, which Erpenius first published at Leiden in 1615, and which was added to the second, 1636 edition of his Grammatica Arabica; a Latin translation of the sayings of 'Alì b. Abì ˇàlib; a Latin translation of the Carmen Tograi; and a copy of an index purporting to come from an MS in Leiden of an Arabic work bearing a well-known Persian title, the Jàwìdàn-khirad. There are throughout extensive annotated references to Persian and Arabic sources. We can at least be fairly sure that, whoever copied the index of the Jàwìdàn-khirad, did so before the end of the seventeenth century. For, among the Arabic MSS which Marsh left to the Bodleian Library in Oxford in 1713 was a copy of the Jàwìdàn-khirad by Ibn Miskawayh, which Marsh had had purchased when Golius’s collection was sold at Leiden in 1696.26 If this is the copy referred to here, and it is unlikely that there would have been more than one example of the work in Leiden at the time, and given the reference in the miscellany to Leiden, the MS must have been consulted before 1696, that is, when it was still at Leiden. Was that, indeed, where the florilegium was first used in the role which its contents rather indicate was the case? When, then, did it come to Dublin, and was it also used by a teacher here?

24 Catalogus Librorum Impressorum, 1, Dublin, 1864, 44 (under Ali, Ebn Abi Talebi); 3, Dublin, 1876, 113 (under Erpenius). 25 Qaßìdat al-Shaykh al-Ra"ìs Ibn Sìnà fì ßifat al-nafs al-insànìya. 26 Wakefield, 137.

SELECTED INDEX OF PERSONS

al-'Abbàs 18–9 'Abd al-Ra˙màn I (al-dakhìl ) 391 Abù al-'Abbàs Ma"mùn II 41 Abù 'Alì b. Mu˙tàj al-Íàghànì 45; 51; 53; 56 Abù Bakr 18; 72–4; 116 Abù Bakr b. A˙mad (al-Shàfi'ì ) 367; 376; 380 Abù al-Ghanà"im al-Zaydì 139 Abù Óanìfa al-Nu'màn 69 Abù Óàtim al-Ràzì 58–9; 61–2; 64 Abù Nizàr (al-Óasan b. 'Alì al-Óasan) 194; 200–201; 208–10 Abù Nuwàs 195 Abù Shàma 206–207 Abù Tammàm 195 Abù Ya'qùb al-Sijistànì 50; 57–9; 64 Abù Yazìd 69 Abù al-Yumn al-Kindì 130 al-Afshìn 20–4; 30 A˙mad al-Îabbì 126 A˙mad b. Fàris (Abù al-Óusayn) 131 A˙mad b. Mu˙ammad b. Ayman 389; 395–7; 403 al-'Ajamì (A˙mad b. Ma˙mùd) 216; 230 Alexius I Comnenus 164–5 'Alì b. Abì ˇàlib 18; 26; 70–1; 74–7; 411 'Alì b. A˙mad (Fakhr al-Dìn; al-Óanbalì ) 362; 372; 375; 379 'Alì b. Furradja 128 'Alì b. al-Óasan of Óilla (Shumaym) 194–209 'Alì b. al-Mudhahhab 136 'Àmir b. Ya˙yà (al-Ba'labakkì ) 370–1; 376 Ashinàs 24–5 Athanasius II 165–6 al-'AΩìmì 137 Bàbak 19–23; 35 al-Babbàghà" 129 al-Bàrizì (Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad) 214 Baybars (Sultan) 238–9; 243–5; 248 Baybars al-Manßùrì 237; 240

al-Bazdahì 39–40; 44 al-Bìrùnì 126 al-Bisà†ì (Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad) 216; 218; 230 Bughà al-Kabìr 21–22 al-Bulqìnì ('Abd al-Ra˙màn) 215 al-Bustì 196 Constance of Antioch 80–1 al-Damàmìmì (Mu˙ammad b. Abì Bakr) 217 al-Daylamì (Abù al-Óasan, 'Alì ) 134 al-Dimashqì (Mu˙ammad b. al-'Abbàs) 135 al-Djawàlìqì 131 Erpenius, Edward 407–13 Fakhr al-Dìn 'Alà" al-Dawla 271; 274 al-Fàrisì (Abù 'Alì) 125 Frescobaldi 252 Ghiyàth al-Dìn Kaykhusraw 265 Golius, Jakobus 411–14 Óajjì II (Sultan) 252; 258 al-Óàkim al-Jalìl 47; 50; 53 al-Hamadhànì (Abù al-Óasan, Mu˙ammad) 137 al-Óamìd 40 al-Óammàmì 228–9 al-Harawì 132 (Hàrùn) al-Rashìd 116 al-Óasan b. 'Alì 75 al-Hayjàwì (Rukn al-Dìn) 234 al-ÓaΩìrì (Abù al-Ma'àlì al-Kutubì ) 103; 107 al-Óusayn b. 'Alì 75; 195 al-Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Maghribì 128 Óusayn b. 'Alì al-Marwazì 41 Ibn Ibn Ibn Ibn Ibn

'Abd al-¸àhir 231; 255; 257 Abì al-Azhar 128 Abì Óajala 225–6 Abì al-Wafà" 218 'Asàkir (Abù al-Qàsim) 137

416

   

Ibn 'Asàkir (A˙mad) 137 Ibn 'Asàkir (al-Óasan) 137 Ibn al-Athìr ('Izz al-Dìn) 265–300 Ibn al-'A††àr 218 Ibn al-Bàniyàsì 137 Ibn Bu˙tur (Íàli˙ b. Ya˙yà) 157–8 Ibn Burhàn al-Dimashqì 131 Ibn al-Dahhàn 131 Ibn al-Djibrànì 130 Ibn Fàris al-Lughawì 131 Ibn Óajar al-'Asqalànì 214; 218; 230 Ibn al-Óajjàj 229 Ibn al-Óarastànì 130 Ibn Óawqal 140 Ibn Hilàl al-Dawla 260–2 Ibn al-Óusayn ('Abd al-Wà˙id) 130 Ibn al-'Iràqì 215 Ibn Jamà'a 215; 218 Ibn al-Jawzì 203–205 Ibn al-Jinnì 200 Ibn Khàlawayh 123; 134 Ibn Khaldùn 251–3; 256; 259 Ibn Khallikàn 202–203 Ibn al-Khidhà' (?) 139 Ibn Makànis 217; 220; 224–7; 230 Ibn al-Nadjdjàr 130 Ibn Nàhi∂ 211–32 Ibn Naßr (Mu˙ammad b. 'Alì ) 129–30 Ibn Nubàta 195 Ibn Nubàta (Abù Bakr Mu˙ammad) 226–7 Ibn Qà∂ì Shuhba 257; 259; 261 Ibn al-Qàri˙ 127–8 Ibn al-Sà'àtì 228 Ibn Íaßrà 257; 259; 261–2 Ibn Sawàda al-Ràzì 38–40; 42–3; 47; 63–4; 67 Ibn Shaddàd ('Izz al-Dìn) 231 Ibn al-Shi˙na 231 Ibn al-Shìràzì 137 Ibn Sìnà 66; 408; 414 Ibn al-Íùfì 139 Ibn Taymiyya 86; 242 Ibn Zùlàq 135 al-Idrìsì (Idrìs b. al-Óasan) 139 'Imàd al-Din al-Kàtib al-Ißfahànì 104 Imru" al-Qays 2 Ìnànj Khàtùn 268; 270–1; 275–6; 278 al-Ißfahànì ('Ubayd Allàh) 126 Ismà'ìl b. 'Abbàd 126 al-Ißtakhrì 140

Ja'far b. Manßùr al-Yaman 77 Jahàn Pahlavàn 266–9; 274 al-Jawwànì 139 al-Jayhànì 39; 45; 47 Jesus 75 John (son of Elias de Cursalt) 160–2; 164; 169; 171; 174; 176; 178–9 Joscelin I 94 Joscelin II 90–2 Joscelin III 92; 94; 97 al-Khàlidiyyàn 126 al-Kha†ìb al-Baghdàdì 29; 126 al-Khushanì 387–91; 395–6; 401; 403 Labìd 1–4 Levon II 166–8 al-Ma'arrì 109; 127; 196; 200; 208 al-Madà"inì 17 al-Maghribì (Mu˙ammad b. Mu˙ammad) 131 al-Mahdì 116 Majd al-Dìn 'Alà" al-Dawla 284; 286 Majd al-Dìn Ibn al-Dàya 81; 83; 88 al-Malik al-Kàmil 233 Malik Uzbak 288–91; 294–5 al-Ma"mùn 19; 26; 116 al-Manßùr 116 al-Manßùr bi-Allàh 69–77 Manßùr I 48–9; 52; 55 Manuel 89; 91; 93 al-Maqrìzì 214; 219; 230 al-Mas'ùdì 23; 140 al-Mawadd li-llàh 161–2; 164; 169; 171; 176; 180–1 al-Mawßilì (Zayn al-Dìn 'Abd al-Malik) 219 Mignanelli (Betrando de) 257–60 Miyàjuq 283; 285–6; 289–93 Mu'àwiya b. Íàli˙ 385–404 al-Mu"ayyad Shaykh 213–32 al-Mufawwi∂ 26; 34 Mu˙ammad (the Prophet) 5–7; 70; 74–7; 241 Mu˙ammad ‘al-Nafs al-Zakiyya’ 19 Mu˙ammad b. A˙mad (Badr al-Dìn) 357–383 Mu˙ammad b. Íàli˙ 385–404 al-Mu'izz li-Dìn Allàh 69; 71 al-Muqtadir 18 al-Musabbi˙ì 136 al-Muß'abì 38–9; 42–4; 47–8; 55

    al-Musta∂ì" bi-Allàh 115 al-Mustanjid 117 al-Mu'ta∂id 18; 26–7 al-Mu'tamid 26; 34 al-Mutanabbì 131; 134; 137; 196 al-Mu'taßim 18–20; 24–6; 30; 116 al-Muwaffaq 26; 29–34 al-Nàmì al-Mißrì 131 al-Nasafì 45; 48; 58; 60; 62–3; 66–7 al-Nàßir Mu˙ammad 231 Nàßir al-Dìn Khusraw 66 Naßr b. A˙mad (al-Sa'ìd) 37–9; 41; 54 Naßr II 42–3; 56; 67 Nù˙ I 45–52; 56; 61 Nu˙ II 48; 51; 55; 57 Nùr al-Dìn 81; 83–5; 91; 93–4; 96; 115; 165; 202 Nùr al-Dìn Kukja 287–91; 294–7 Paganus 161–2; 164; 172; 174; 176; 178 Peter I (of Angoulême) 160; 167–9; 183 Piloti (Emmanuel) 252–3 Pococke, Edward 411–12 al-Qà∂ì al-Fà∂il 104 al-Qà∂ì al-Nu'màn 70–1 al-Qif†ì ( Jamàl al-Dìn 'Alì b. Yùsuf ) 192; 293; 206–208 Qalàwùn 239–40; 245–6; 248 al-Qalqashandì 216 al-Qirà†ì (Abù Is˙àq Ibràhìm) 225 Qizil Arslàn 269; 273–8; 297 Qutlugh Ìnànj 273; 277; 279–80; 282–4 al-Qu†rabbulì 128 al-Raba'ì 126; 129 al-Raqqì (Abù al-Qàsim) 130 Ràvandì 265–300 Reynald of Châtillon 79–101 al-Íàbi" (Hilàl b. al-Mu˙assin) 133 al-Íàbi" (Mu˙assin b. Ibràhìm) 133

417

al-Íàbi" (Thàbit b. Sinàn) 133 al-Saffà˙ 116 al-Íà˙ib b. 'Abbàd 203 al-Sakhàwì 213; 218; 260 Saladin 35; 70; 82; 88; 90–1; 94; 100; 196; 268–9 Samwìl b. al-nùmìkùs Badrùs 175; 178; 188 al-Saqa†ì 132–3 Sharaf al-Abwani 305; 308 al-Shawwà" al-Óalabì 227–8 Shaylama 26–9; 33–4 al-Shimshà†ì ('Alì) 127 St Louis 84 al-Íùlì 132 Symeon II 167–9; 183 al-ˇabarì 17–9; 23; 132 Takish 278; 280–1; 283; 285–7; al-Tanùkhì (al-Mu˙assin b. 'Alì ) 124–5; 129 ˇarafa 3; 6 al-ˇarsùsì (Abù 'Amr 'Uthmàn) 140 al-Taw˙ìdì 131 al-Tha'àlibì 37–67; 130 Timur 252; 257; 264 al-ˇughrà"ì 130 ˇughril III 265–81 al-'Ulaymì 139 'Umar 72–4; 116 'Umar b. Shabba 18 'Uthmàn 18 al-Wahrànì 103–119 Yànì l-Kàmìlàrì 175; 177–8; 186 Yàqùt al-Rùmì 126; 131; 133; 191–209 al-Yùnìnì 245; 257 Yùnus Khàn 282; 286–7 al-¸àhir Barqùq 252 al-¸àhir Baybars 231 Zaynab bt. Makkì al-Dimashqiyya 362; 370; 379; 381 Zuhayr 40

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