Текст книги "Literary History of the Arabs "

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"I lift my voice to utter lies absurd,But when I speak the truth, my hushed tones scarce are heard."595

In the Luzúmiyyát, however, he often unmasks. Thus he describes as idolatrous relics the two Pillars of the Ka‘ba and the Black Stone, venerated by every Moslem, and calls the Pilgrimage itself 'a heathen's journey' ( riḥlatu jáhiliyy ⁱⁿ). The following sentiments do him honour, but they would have been rank heresy at Mecca:—

"Praise God and pray,Walk seventy times, not seven, the Temple round—And impious remain!Devout is he alone who, when he mayFeast his desires, is foundWith courage to abstain."596

It is needless to give further instances of the poet's contempt for the Muḥammadan articles of faith. Considering that he assailed persons as well as principles, and lashed with bitter invective the powerful class of the ‘Ulamá, the clerical and legal representatives of Islam, we may wonder that the accusation of heresy brought against him was never pushed home and had no serious consequences. The question was warmly argued on both sides, and though Abu ’l-‘Alá was pronounced by the majority to be a freethinker and materialist, he did not lack defenders who quoted chapter and verse to prove that he was nothing of the kind. It must be remembered that his works contain no philosophical system; that his opinions have to be gathered from the ideas which he scatters incoherently, and for the most part in guarded language, through a long succession of rhymes; and that this task, already arduous enough, is complicated by the not infrequent occurrence of sentiments which are blamelessly orthodox and entirely contradictory to the rest. A brilliant writer, familiar with Eastern ways of thinking, has observed that in general the conscience of an Asiatic is composed of the following ingredients: (1) an almost bare religious designation; (2) a more or less lively belief in certain doctrines of the creed which he professes; (3) a resolute opposition to many of its doctrines, even if they should be the most essential; (4) a fund of ideas relating to completely alien theories, which occupies more or less room; (5) a constant tendency to get rid of these ideas and theories and to replace the old by new.597 Such phenomena will account for a great deal of logical inconsistency, but we should beware of invoking them too confidently in this case. Abu ’l-‘Alá with his keen intellect and unfanatical temperament was not the man to let himself be mystified. Still lamer is the explanation offered by some Muḥammadan critics, that his thoughts were decided by the necessities of the difficult metre in which he wrote. It is conceivable that he may sometimes have doubted his own doubts and given Islam the benefit, but Von Kremer's conclusion is probably near the truth, namely, that where the poet speaks as a good Moslem, his phrases if they are not purely conventional are introduced of set purpose to foil his pious antagonists or to throw them off the scent. Although he was not without religion in the larger sense of the word, unprejudiced students of the later poems must recognise that from the orthodox standpoint he was justly branded as an infidel. The following translations will serve to illustrate the negative side of his philosophy:—

"Falsehood hath so corrupted all the worldThat wrangling sects each other's gospel chide;But were not hate Man's natural element,Churches and mosques had risen side by side."598

"What is Religion? A maid kept close that no eye may view her;The price of her wedding-gifts and dowry baffles the wooer.Of all the goodly doctrine that I from the pulpit heardMy heart has never accepted so much as a single word !"599

"The pillars of this earth are four,Which lend to human life a base;God shaped two vessels, Time and Space,The world and all its folk to store. That which Time holds, in ignoranceIt holds—why vent on it our spite?Man is no cave-bound eremite,But still an eager spy on Chance. He trembles to be laid asleep,Tho' worn and old and weary grown.We laugh and weep by Fate alone,Time moves us not to laugh or weep; Yet we accuse it innocent,Which, could it speak, might us accuse,Our best and worst, at will to choose,United in a sinful bent.600

"'The stars' conjunction comes, divinely sent,And lo, the veil o'er every creed is rent.No realm is founded that escapes decay,The firmest structure soon dissolves away.'601With sadness deep a thoughtful mind must scanReligion made to serve the pelf of Man.Fear thine own children: sparks at random flungConsume the very tinder whence they sprung.Evil are all men; I distinguish notThat part or this: the race entire I blot.Trust none, however near akin, tho' heA perfect sense of honour show to thee,Thy self is the worst foe to be withstood:Be on thy guard in hours of solitude.   *          *          *           *          *  Desire a venerable shaykh to citeReason for his doctrine, he is gravelled quite.What! shall I ripen ere a leaf is seen?The tree bears only when 'tis clad in green.'602

"How have I provoked your enmity?Christ or Muḥammad, 'tis one to me.No rays of dawn our path illume,We are sunk together in ceaseless gloom.Can blind perceptions lead aright,Or blear eyes ever have clear sight?Well may a body racked with painEnvy mouldering bones in vain;Yet comes a day when the weary swordReposes, to its sheath restored. Ah, who to me a frame will giveAs clod or stone insensitive?—For when spirit is joined to flesh, the pairAnguish of mortal sickness share.O Wind, be still, if wind thy name,O Flame, die out, if thou art flame!"603

Pessimist and sceptic as he was, Abu ’l-‘Alá denies more than he affirms, but although he rejected the dogmas of positive religion, he did not fall into utter unbelief; for he found within himself a moral law to which he could not refuse obedience.

"Take Reason for thy guide and do what sheApproves, the best of counsellors in sooth.Accept no law the Pentateuch lays down:Not there is what thou seekest—the plain truth."604

He insists repeatedly that virtue is its own reward.

"Oh, purge the good thou dost from hope of recompenseOr profit, as if thou wert one that sells his wares."605

His creed is that of a philosopher and ascetic. Slay no living creature, he says; better spare a flea than give alms. Yet he prefers active piety, active humanity, to fasting and prayer. "The gist of his moral teaching is to inculcate as the highest and holiest duty a conscientious fulfilment of one's obligations with equal warmth and affection towards all living beings."606

Abu ’l-‘Alá died in 1057 a.d., at the age of eighty-four. About ten years before this time, the Persian poet and traveller, Náṣir-i Khusraw, passed through Ma‘arra on his way to Egypt. He describes Abu ’l-‘Alá as the chief man in the town, very rich, revered by the inhabitants, and surrounded by more than two hundred students who came from all parts to attend his lectures on literature and poetry.607 We may set this trustworthy notice against the doleful account which Abu ’l-‘Alá gives of himself in his letters and other works. If not among the greatest Muḥammadan poets, he is undoubtedly one of the most original and attractive. After Mutanabbí, even after Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya, he must appear strangely modern to the European reader. It is astonishing to reflect that a spirit so unconventional, so free from dogmatic prejudice, so rational in spite of his pessimism and deeply religious notwithstanding his attacks on revealed religion, should have ended his life in a Syrian country-town some years before the battle of Senlac. Although he did not meddle with politics and held aloof from every sect, he could truly say of himself, "I am the son of my time" ( ghadawtu ’bna waqtí).608 His poems leave no aspect of the age untouched, and present a vivid picture of degeneracy and corruption, in which tyrannous rulers, venal judges, hypocritical and unscrupulous theologians, swindling astrologers, roving swarms of dervishes and godless Carmathians occupy a prominent place.609

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

Abú Tammám (Ḥabíb b. Aws) and Buḥturí, both of whom Abú Tammám and Buḥturí. flourished in the ninth century, were distinguished court poets of the same type as Mutanabbí, but their reputation rests more securely on the anthologies which they compiled under the title of Ḥamása(see p. 129 seq.).

Abu ’l-‘Abbás ‘Abdulláh, the son of the Caliph al-Mu‘tazz, was a versatile poet and man of letters, who showed his Ibnu ’l-Mu‘tazz (861-908 a.d.). originality by the works which he produced in two novel styles of composition. It has often been remarked that the Arabs have no great epos like the Iliad or the Persian Sháhnáma, but only prose narratives which, though sometimes epical in tone, are better described as historical romances. Ibnu ’l-Mu‘tazz could not supply the deficiency. He wrote, however, in praise of his cousin, the Caliph Mu‘taḍid, a metrical epic in miniature, commencing with a graphic delineation of the wretched state to which the Empire had been reduced by the rapacity and tyranny of the Turkish mercenaries. He composed also, besides an anthology of Bacchanalian pieces, the first important work on Poetics ( Kitábu ’l-Badí‘). A sad destiny was in store for this accomplished prince. On the death of the Caliph Muktarí he was called to the throne, but a few hours after his accession he was overpowered by the partisans of Muqtadir, who strangled him as soon as they discovered his hiding-place. Picturing the scene, one thinks almost inevitably of Nero's dying words, Qualis artifex pereo!

The mystical poetry of the Arabs is far inferior, as a whole, to that of the Persians. Fervour and passion it has in the ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ (1181-1235 a.d.). highest degree, but it lacks range and substance, not to speak of imaginative and speculative power. ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ, though he is undoubtedly the poet of Arabian mysticism, cannot sustain a comparison with his great Persian contemporary, Jalálu’l-Dín Rúmí (õ 1273 a.d.); he surpasses him only in the intense glow and exquisite beauty of his diction. It will be convenient to reserve a further account of Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ for the next chapter, where we shall discuss the development of Ṣúfiism during this period.

Finally two writers claim attention who owe their reputation to single poems—a by no means rare phenomenon in the history of Arabic literature. One of these universally celebrated odes is the Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Ajam(the ode rhyming in lof the non-Arabs) composed in the year 1111 a.d. by Ṭughrá’í; the other is the Burda(Mantle Ode) of Búṣírí, which I take the liberty of mentioning in this chapter, although its author died some forty years after the Mongol Invasion.

Ḥasan b. ‘Alí al-Ṭughrá’í was of Persian descent and a native of Iṣfahán.610 Ṭughrá’í (õ  circa1120 a.d.). He held the offices of kátib(secretary) and munshíor ṭughrá’í(chancellor) under the great Seljúq Sultans, Maliksháh and Muḥammad, and afterwards became Vizier to the Seljúqid prince Ghiyáthu ’l-Dín Mas‘úd611 in Mosul. He derived the title by which he is generally known from the royal signature ( ṭughrá) which it was his duty to indite on all State papers over the initial Bismilláh. The Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Ajamis so called with reference to Shanfará's renowned poem, the Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Arab(see p. 79 seq.), which rhymes in the same letter; otherwise the two odes have only this in common,612 that whereas Shanfará depicts the hardships of an outlaw's life in the desert, Ṭughrá’í, writing in Baghdád, laments the evil times on which he has fallen, and complains that younger rivals, base and servile men, are preferred to him, while he is left friendless and neglected in his old age.

The Qaṣídatu ’l-Burda (Mantle Ode) of al-Búṣírí613 is a hymn in praise of the Prophet. Its author was born in Búṣírí (õ  circa1296 a.d.). Egypt in 1212 a.d. We know scarcely anything concerning his life, which, as he himself declares, was passed in writing poetry and in paying court to the great614; but his biographers tell us that he supported himself by copying manuscripts, and that he was a disciple of the eminent Ṣúfí, Abu ’l-‘Abbás Aḥmad al-Marsí. It is said that he composed the Burdawhile suffering from a stroke which paralysed one half of his body. After praying God to heal him, he began to recite the poem. Presently he fell asleep and dreamed that he saw the Prophet, who touched his palsied side and threw his mantle ( burda) over him.615 "Then," said al-Búṣírí, "I awoke and found myself able to rise." However this may be, the Mantle Ode is held in extraordinary veneration by Muḥammadans. Its verses are often learned by heart and inscribed in golden letters on the walls of public buildings; and not only is the whole poem regarded as a charm against evil, but some peculiar magical power is supposed to reside in each verse separately. Although its poetical merit is no more than respectable, the Burdamay be read with pleasure on account of its smooth and elegant style, and with interest as setting forth in brief compass the mediæval legend of the Prophet—a legend full of prodigies and miracles in which the historical figure of Muḥammad is glorified almost beyond recognition.

Rhymed prose ( saj‘) long retained the religious associations which it possessed in Pre-islamic times and which were consecrated, for all Moslems, by its use in the Koran. About the middle of the ninth century it began to appear in the public sermons ( khuṭab, sing. khuṭba) of the Caliphs and their viceroys, and it was still further developed by professional Rhymed prose. preachers, like Ibn Nubáta (õ 984 a.d.), and by official secretaries, like Ibráhím b. Hilál al-Ṣábí (õ 994 a.d.). Henceforth rhyme becomes a distinctive and almost indispensable feature of rhetorical prose.

The credit of inventing, or at any rate of making popular, a new and remarkable form of composition in this style belongs Badí‘u ’l-Zamán al-Hamadhání (õ 1007 a.d.). to al-Hamadhání (õ 1007 a.d.), on whom posterity conferred the title Badí‘u ’l-Zamán, i.e., 'the Wonder of the Age.' Born in Hamadhán (Ecbatana), he left his native town as a young man and travelled through the greater part of Persia, living by his wits and astonishing all whom he met by his talent for improvisation. His Maqámátmay be called a romance or literary Bohemianism. In the maqámawe find some approach to the dramatic style, which has never been cultivated by the Semites.616 Hamadhání imagined as his hero a witty, unscrupulous vagabond journeying from place to place and supporting himself by the presents which his impromptu displays of rhetoric, poetry, and learning seldom failed to draw from an admiring audience. The second character is the ráwíor narrator, "who should be continually meeting with the other, should relate his adventures, and repeat his excellent compositions."617 The Maqámátof Hamadhání became the model for this kind of writing, and the types which he created survive unaltered in the more elaborate work of his successors. Each maqámaforms an independent whole, so that the complete series may be regarded as a novel consisting of detached episodes in the hero's life, a medley of prose and verse in which the story is nothing, the style everything.

Less original than Badí‘u ’l-Zamán, but far beyond him in variety of learning and copiousness of language, Abú Ḥarírí (1054-1122 a.d.). Muḥammad al-Qásim al-Ḥarírí of Baṣra produced in his Maqámáta masterpiece which for eight centuries "has been esteemed as, next to the Koran, the chief treasure of the Arabic tongue." In the Preface to his work he says that the composition of maqámátwas suggested to him by "one whose suggestion is a command and whom it is a pleasure to obey." This was the distinguished Persian statesman, Anúshirwán b. Khálid,618 who afterwards served as Vizier under the Caliph Mustarshid Billáh (1118-1135 a.d.) and Sultán Mas‘úd, the Seljúq (1133-1152 a.d.); but at the time when he made Ḥarírí's acquaintance he was living in retirement at Baṣra and devoting himself to literary studies. Ḥarírí begged to be excused on the score that his abilities were unequal to the task, "for the lame steed cannot run like the strong courser."619 Finally, however, he yielded to the request of Anúshirwán, and, to quote his own words—

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

Ḥarírí then proceeds to argue that his Maqámátare not mere frivolous stories such as strict Moslems are bound to reprobate in accordance with a well-known passage of the Koran referring to Naḍr b. Ḥárith, who mortally offended the Prophet by amusing the Quraysh with the old Persian legends of Rustam and Isfandiyár (Koran, xxxi, 5-6): " There is one that buyeth idle tales that he may seduce men from the way of God, without knowledge, and make it a laughing-stock: these shall suffer a shameful punishment. And when Our signs are read to him, he turneth his back in disdain as though he heard them not, as though there were in his ears a deafness: give him joy of a grievous punishment!" Ḥarírí insists that the Assemblieshave a moral purpose. The ignorant and malicious, he says, will probably condemn his work, but intelligent readers will perceive, if they lay prejudice aside, that it is as useful and instructive as the fables of beasts, &c.,621 to which no one has ever objected. That his fears of hostile criticism were not altogether groundless is shown by the following remarks of the author of the popular history entitled al-Fakhrí(õ  circa1300 a.d.). This writer, after claiming that his own book is more useful than the Ḥamásaof Abú Tammám, continues:—

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

Before pronouncing on the justice of this censure, we must consider for a moment the character of Abú Zayd, the hero The character of Abú Zayd. of Ḥarírí's work, whose adventures are related by a certain Ḥárith b. Hammám, under which name the author is supposed to signify himself. According to the general tradition, Ḥarírí was one day seated with a number of savants in the mosque of the Banú Ḥarám at Baṣra, when an old man entered, footsore and travel-stained. On being asked who he was and whence he came, he answered that his name of honour was Abú Zayd and that he came from Sarúj.623 He described in eloquent and moving terms how his native town had been plundered by the Greeks, who made his daughter a captive and drove him forth to exile and poverty. Ḥarírí was so struck with his wonderful powers of improvisation that on the same evening he began to compose the Maqáma of the Banú Ḥarám,624 where Abú Zayd is introduced in his invariable character: "a crafty old man, full of genius and learning, unscrupulous of the artifices which he uses to effect his purpose, reckless in spending in forbidden indulgences the money he has obtained by his wit or deceit, but with veins of true feeling in him, and ever yielding to unfeigned emotion when he remembers his devastated home and his captive child."625 If an immoral tendency has been attributed to the Assembliesof Ḥarírí it is because the author does not conceal his admiration for this unprincipled and thoroughly disreputable scamp. Abú Zayd, indeed, is made so fascinating that we can easily pardon his knaveries for the sake of the pearls of wit and wisdom which he scatters in splendid profusion—excellent discourses, edifying sermons, and plaintive lamentations mingled with rollicking ditties and ribald jests. Modern readers are not likely to agree with the historian quoted above, but although they may deem his criticism illiberal, they can hardly deny that it has some justification.

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

"Ghassán is my noble kindred, Sarúj is my land of birth,Where I dwelt in a lofty mansion of sunlike glory and worth,A Paradise for its sweetness and beauty and pleasant mirth! And oh, the life that I led there abounding in all delight!I trailed my robe on its meadows, while Time flew a careless flight,Elate in the flower of manhood, no pleasure veiled from my sight. Now, if woe could kill, I had died of the troubles that haunt me here,Or could past joy ever be ransomed, my heart's blood had not been dear,Since death is better than living a brute's life year after year, Subdued to scorn as a lion whom base hyenas torment.But Luck is to blame, else no one had failed of his due ascent:If she were straight, the conditions of men would never be bent."627

The scene of the eleventh Assemblyis laid in Sáwa, a city lying midway between Hamadhán (Ecbatana) and Rayy (Rhages). "Ḥárith, in a fit of religious zeal, betakes himself to the public burial ground, for the purpose of contemplation. He finds a funeral in progress, and when it is over an old man, with his face muffled in a cloak, takes his stand on a hillock, and pours forth a discourse on the certainty of death and judgment.... He then rises into poetry and declaims a piece which is one of the noblest productions of Arabic literature. In lofty morality, in religious fervour, in beauty of language, in power and grace of metre, this magnificent hymn is unsurpassed."628

"Pretending sense in vain, how long, O light of brain, wilt thou heap sin and bane, and compass error's span? Thy conscious guilt avow! The white hairs on thy brow admonish thee, and thou hast ears unstopt, O man! Death's call dost thou not hear? Rings not his voice full clear? Of parting hast no fear, to make thee sad and wise? How long sunk in a sea of sloth and vanity wilt thou play heedlessly, as though Death spared his prize? Till when, far wandering from virtue, wilt thou cling to evil ways that bring together vice in brief? For thy Lord's anger shame thou hast none, but let maim o'ertake thy cherished aim, then feel'st thou burning grief. Thou hail'st with eager joy the coin of yellow die, but if a bier pass by, feigned is thy sorry face; Perverse and callous wight! thou scornest counsel right to follow the false light of treachery and disgrace. Thy pleasure thou dost crave, to sordid gain a slave, forgetting the dark grave and what remains of dole; Were thy true weal descried, thy lust would not misguide nor thou be terrified by words that should console. Not tears, blood shall thine eyes pour at the great Assize, when thou hast no allies, no kinsman thee to save; Straiter thy tomb shall be than needle's cavity: deep, deep thy plunge I see as diver's 'neath the wave. There shall thy limbs be laid, a feast for worms arrayed, till utterly decayed are wood and bones withal, Nor may thy soul repel that ordeal horrible, when o'er the Bridge of Hell she must escape or fall.Astray shall leaders go, and mighty men be low, and sages shall cry, 'Woe like this was never yet.'Then haste, my thoughtless friend, what thou hast marred to mend, for life draws near its end, and still thou art in the net.Trust not in fortune, nay, though she be soft and gay; for she will spit one day her venom, if thou dote;Abate thy haughty pride! lo, Death is at thy side, fastening, whate'er betide, his fingers on thy throat.When prosperous, refrain from arrogant disdain, nor give thy tongue the rein: a modest tongue is best.Comfort the child of bale and listen to his tale: repair thine actions frail, and be for ever blest.Feather the nest once more of those whose little store has vanished: ne'er deplore the loss nor miser be;With meanness bravely cope, and teach thine hand to ope, and spurn the misanthrope, and make thy bounty free. Lay up provision fair and leave what brings thee care: for sea the ship prepare and dread the rising storm.This, friend, is what I preach expressed in lucid speech. Good luck to all and each who with my creed conform!"

In the next Maqáma—that of Damascus—we find Abú Zayd, gaily attired, amidst casks and vats of wine, carousing and listening to the music of lutes and singing—

"I ride and I ride through the waste far and wide, and I fling away pride to be gay as the swallow;Stem the torrent's fierce speed, tame the mettlesome steed, that wherever I lead Youth and Pleasure may follow.I bid gravity pack, and I strip bare my back lest liquor I lack when the goblet is lifted:Did I never incline to the quaffing of wine, I had ne'er been with fine wit and eloquence gifted.Is it wonderful, pray, that an old man should stay in a well-stored seray by a cask overflowing?Wine strengthens the knees, physics every disease, and from sorrow it frees, the oblivion-bestowing!Oh, the purest of joys is to live sans disguise unconstrained by the ties of a grave reputation,And the sweetest of love that the lover can prove is when fear and hope move him to utter his passion.Thy love then proclaim, quench the smouldering flame, for 'twill spark out thy shame and betray thee to laughter:Heal the wounds of thine heart and assuage thou the smart by the cups that impart a delight men seek after;While to hand thee the bowl damsels wait who cajole and enravish the soul with eyes tenderly glancing,And singers whose throats pour such high-mounting notes, when the melody floats, iron rocks would be dancing!Obey not the fool who forbids thee to pull beauty's rose when in full bloom thou'rt free to possess it;Pursue thine end still, tho' it seem past thy skill; let them say what they will, take thy pleasure and bless it!Get thee gone from thy sire, if he thwart thy desire; spread thy nets nor enquire what the nets are receiving;But be true to a friend, shun the miser and spend, ways of charity wend, be unwearied in giving.He that knocks enters straight at the Merciful's gate, so repent or e'er Fate call thee forth from the living!"

The reader may judge from these extracts whether the Assembliesof Ḥarírí are so deficient in matter as some critics have imagined. But, of course, the celebrity of the work is mainly due to its consummate literary form—a point on which the Arabs have always bestowed singular attention. Ḥarírí himself was a subtle grammarian, living in Baṣra, the home of philological science;629 and though he wrote to please rather than to instruct, he seems to have resolved that his work should illustrate every beauty and nicety of which the Arabic language is capable. We Europeans can see as little merit or taste in the verbal conceits—equivoques, paronomasias, assonances, alliterations, &c.—with which his pages are thickly studded, as in tours de forceof composition which may be read either forwards or backwards, or which consist entirely of pointed or of unpointed letters; but our impatience of such things should not blind us to the fact that they are intimately connected with the genius and traditions of the Arabic tongue,630 and therefore stand on a very different footing from those euphuistic extravagances which appear, for example, in English literature of the Elizabethan age. By Ḥarírí's countrymen the Maqámátare prized as an almost unique monument of their language, antiquities, and culture. One of the author's contemporaries, the famous Zamakhsharí, has expressed the general verdict in pithy verse—

"I swear by God and His marvels,By the pilgrims' rite and their shrine:Ḥarírí's Assembliesare worthyTo be written in gold each line."

Concerning some of the specifically religious sciences, such as Dogmatic Theology and Mysticism, we shall have more to say The religious literature of the period. in the following chapter, while as to the science of Apostolic Tradition ( Ḥadíth) we must refer the reader to what has been already said. All that can be attempted here is to take a passing notice of the most eminent writers and the most celebrated works of this epoch in the field of religion.

The place of honour belongs to the Imám Málik b. Anas of Medína, whose Muwaṭṭa’is the first great corpusof Málik b. Anas (713-795 a.d.). Muḥammadan Law. He was a partisan of the ‘Alids, and was flogged by command of the Caliph Manṣúr in consequence of his declaration that he did not consider the oath of allegiance to the ‘Abbásid dynasty to have any binding effect.

The two principal authorities for Apostolic Tradition are Bukhárí (õ 870 a.d.) and Muslim (õ 875 a.d.), authors of the collections entitled Ṣaḥíḥ. Compilations of a Bukhárí and Muslim. narrower range, embracing only those traditions which bear on the Sunnaor custom of the Prophet, are the Sunanof Abú Dáwúd al-Sijistání (õ 889 a.d.), the Jámi‘of Abú ‘Isá Muḥammad al-Tirmidhí (õ 892 a.d.), the Sunanof al-Nasá’í (õ 915 a.d.), and the Sunanof Ibn Mája (õ 896 a.d.). These, together with the Ṣaḥíḥs of Bukhárí and Muslim, form the Six Canonical Books ( al-kutub al-sitta), which are held in the highest veneration. Amongst the innumerable works of a similar kind produced in this period it will suffice to mention the Maṣábíḥu ’l-Sunna by al-Baghawí (õ  circa1120 a.d.). A later adaptation called Mishkátu ’l-Maṣábíḥ has been often printed, and is still extremely popular.