Night and Horses and the Desert

by Robert Irwin

  We said, ‘Come on!’ and he continued.

  ‘When I was in Baghdad a certain merchant invited me to a madira and stuck to me like a creditor and like the dog to the companions of al-Raqim. So I accepted his invitation, and we set out for his house. All the way he praised his wife, for whom, he said, he would give his life’s blood. He described her skill in preparing the madira and her refinement in cooking it, and he said, “O my master, if you could see her, with the apron round her middle, moving about the house, from the oven to the pots and from the pots to the oven, blowing on the fire with her mouth and pounding the spices with her hand; if you could see the smoke blacken that beautiful face and leave its marks on that smooth cheek, then you would see a sight which would dazzle the eyes! I love her because she loves me. It is bliss for a man to be vouchsafed the help of his wife and to be aided by his helpmate, especially if she is of his kin. She is my cousin on my father’s side, her flesh is my flesh, her town is my town, her uncles are my uncles, her root is my root. She is however better natured and better looking than I.”

  ‘So he wearied me with his wife’s qualities until we reached the quarter where he lived, and then he said, “O my master, look at this quarter! It is the noblest quarter of Baghdad. The worthy vie to settle here, and the great compete to dwell here. None but merchants live here, for a man can be judged by his neighbor. My house is the jewel in the middle of a necklace of houses, the center of their circle. How much, O my master, would you say was spent on each house? Make a rough guess, if you don’t know exactly.”

  ‘I answered, “A lot.”

  ‘He said, “Glory be to God, how great is your error! You just say ‘a lot’.” Then he sighed deeply and said, “Glory to Him who knows all things.”

  ‘Then we came to the door of his house, and he said, “This is my house. How much, O my master, would you say I spent on this doorway? By God, I spent more than I could afford and enough to reduce me to poverty. What do you think of its workmanship and shape? By God, have you seen its like? Look at the fine points of craftsmanship in it, and observe the beauty of its lattice-work; it is as if it had been drawn with a compass. Look at the skill of the carpenter in making this door. From how many pieces did he make it? You may well say, ‘How should I know?’ It is made of a single piece of teak, free from worm or rot. If it is moved, it moans, and if it is struck, it hums. Who made it, sir? Abu Ishaq ibn Muhammad al-Basri made it, and he is, by God, of good repute, skillful in the craft of doors, dextrous with his hands in his work. God, what a capable man he is! By my life, I would never call on anyone but him for such a task.

  ‘ “And this door ring which you see, I bought it in the curio market from 'Imran the curio dealer, for three Mu'izzi dinars. And how much yellow copper does it contain, sir? It contains six ratls! It turns on a screw in the door. Turn it, by God! Then strike it and watch. By my life, one should not buy a door ring from anyone but 'Imran, who sells nothing but treasures.”

  ‘Then he rapped on the door, and we entered the hall, and he said, “May God preserve you, O house! May God not destroy you, O walls! How strong are your buttresses, how sound your construction, how firm your foundation! By God, observe the steps and scrutinize the inside and the outside of the house, and ask me, ‘How did you obtain it, and by what devices did you acquire and gain possession of it?’ I had a neighbour called Abu Sulayman, who lived in this quarter. He had more wealth than he could store and more valuables than he could weigh. He died, may God have mercy on him, leaving an heir who squandered his inheritance on wine and song and dissipated it between backgammon and gambling. I feared lest the guide of necessity lead him to sell the house and he sell it in a moment of desperation or leave it exposed to ruination. Then I would see my chance of buying it slip away, and my grief would continue to the day of my death.

  ‘ “So I got some clothes of a kind difficult to sell and brought them and offered them to him and chaffered with him until he agreed to buy them on credit. The luckless regard credit as a gift, and the unsuccessful reckon it as a present. I asked him for a document for the amount, and he drew one up in my favor. Then I neglected to claim what was due until he was in the direst straits. And then I came and demanded what he owed. He asked for a delay, to which I agreed; he asked me for more clothes, which I brought him; and I asked him to give me his house as security and as a pledge in my hand. He did so, and then I induced him in successive negotiation to sell it to me so that it became mine by rising fortune, lucky chance, and a strong arm. Many a man works unwittingly for others, but I, praise be to God, am lucky and successful in matters such as these. Just think, O my master, that a few nights ago when I was sleeping in the house together with my household, there was a knock at the door. I asked, ‘Who is this untimely caller?’ and there was a woman with a necklace of pearls, as clear as water and as delicate as a mirage, offering it for sale. I took it from her as if by theft, so low was the price for which I bought it. It will be of obvious value and abundant profit, with the help and favor of God. I have only told you this story so that you may know how lucky I am in business, for good luck can make water flow from stones. God is great! Nobody will inform you more truthfully than you yourself, and no day is nearer than yesterday. I bought this mat at an auction. It was brought out of the houses of the Ibn al-Furat family when their assets were confiscated and seized. I had been looking for something like this for a long time and had not found it. ‘Fate is a pregnant woman;’ no one knows what it will bear. It chanced that I was at Bab al-Taq, and this mat was displayed in the market. I weighed out so many dinars for it. By God, look at its fineness, its softness, its workmanship, its color, for it is of immense value. Its like occurs only rarely. If you have heard of Abu 'Imran the mat maker, it is he who made it. He has a son who has now succeeded him in his shop, and only with him can the finest mats be found. By my life, never buy mats from any shop but his, for a true believer gives good advice to his brothers, especially those admitted to the sanctity of his table. But let us return to the madira, for the hour of noon has come. Slave! Basin and water!”

  ‘God is great, I thought, release draws nearer and escape becomes easier.

  ‘The slave stepped forward, and the merchant said, “Do you see this slave? He is of Greek origin and brought up in Iraq. Come here, slave! Uncover your head! Raise your leg! Bare your arm! Show your teeth! Walk up and down!”

  ‘The slave did as he said, and the merchant said, “By God, who bought him? By God, Abu’l-'Abbas bought him from the slavedealer. Put down the basin and bring the jug!”

  ‘The slave put it down and the merchant picked it up, turned it around, and looked it over; then he struck it and said, “Look at this yellow copper – like a glowing coal or a piece of gold! It is Syrian copper, worked in Iraq. This is not one of those wornout valuables, though it has known the houses of kings and has circulated in them. Look at its beauty and ask me, ‘When did you buy it?’ By God, I bought it in the year of the famine, and I put it aside for this moment. Slave! The jug!”

  ‘He brought it, and the merchant took it and turned it around and said, “Its spout is part of it, all one piece. This jug goes only with this basin, this basin goes only with this seat of honor, this seat of honor fits only in this house, and this house is beautiful only with this guest! Pour the water, slave, for it is time to eat! By God, do you see this water? How pure it is, as blue as a cat’s eye, as clear as a crystal rod! It was drawn from the Euphrates and served after being kept overnight so that it comes as bright as the tongue of flame from a candle and clear as a tear. What counts is not the liquid, but the receptacle. Nothing will show you the cleanliness of the receptacles more clearly than the cleanliness of what you drink. And this kerchief! Ask me about its story! It was woven in Jurjan and worked in Arrajan. I came across it and I bought it. My wife made part of it into a pair of drawers and part of it into a kerchief. Twenty ells went into her drawers, and I snatched this amount away from her hand. I gave it to an embroiderer who work
ed it and embroidered it as you see. Then I brought it home from the market and stored it in a casket and reserved it for the most refined of my guests. No Arab of the common people defiled it with his hands, nor any woman with the corners of her eyes. Every precious thing has its proper time, and every tool its proper user. Slave! Set the table, for it is growing late! Bring the dish, for the argument has been long! Serve the food, for the talk has been much!”

  ‘The slave brought the table, and the merchant turned it in its place and struck it with his fingertips and tested it with his teeth and said, “May God give prosperity to Baghdad! How excellent are its products, how refined its craftsmen! By God, observe this table, and look at the breadth of its surface, the slightness of its weight, the hardness of its wood, and the beauty of its shape.”

  ‘I said, “This is all fine, but when do we eat?”

  ‘ “Now,” he said. “Slave! Bring the food quickly. But please observe that the legs and the table are all of one piece.”’

  Abu’l-Fath said, ‘I was fuming, and I said to myself, “There is still the baking and its utensils, the bread and its qualities, and where the wheat was originally bought, and how an animal was hired to transport it, in what mill it was ground, in what tub it was kneaded, in what oven it was baked, and what baker was hired to bake it. Then there is still the firewood, when it was cut, when it was brought, and how it was set out to dry; and then the baker and his description, the apprentice and his character, the flour and its praises, the yeast and its commentary, the salt and its saltiness. And then there are the plates, who got them, how he acquired them, who used them, and who made them; and the vinegar, how its grapes were selected or its fresh dates were bought, how the press was limed, how the juice was extracted, how the jars were tarred, and how much each cask was worth. And then there were the vegetables, by what devices they were picked, in what grocery they were packed, with what care they were cleaned. And then there is the madira, how the meat was bought, the fat was paid for, the pot set up, the fire kindled, the spices pounded so that the cooking might excel and the gravy be thick. This is an affair that overflows and a business that has no end.”

  ‘So I rose, and he asked, “What do you want?”

  ‘I said, “A need that I must satisfy.”

  ‘He said, “O my master! You are going to a privy which shames the spring residence of the amir and the autumn residence of the vizier! Its upper part is plastered and its lower part is whitewashed; its roof is terraced and its floor is paved with marble. Ants slip off its walls and cannot grip; flies walk on its floor and slither along. It has a door with panels of teak and ivory combined in the most perfect way. A guest could wish to eat there.”

  ‘ “Eat there yourself,” I said. “The privy is not part of the bargain.”

  ‘Then I made for the door and hurried as I went. I began to run, and he followed me, shouting, “O Abu’l-Fath, the madiral” The youngsters thought that al-madira was my byname, and they began to shout it. I threw a stone at one of them, so angry was I, but the stone hit a man on his turban and pierced his head. I was seized and beaten with shoes, both old and new, and showered with blows, both worthy and vicious, and thrown into prison. I remained for two years in this misfortune, and I swore that I would never eat a madira as long as I lived. Have I done wrong in this, O people of Hamadan?’

  ‘Is ibn Hishm said, ‘We accepted his excuse and joined in his vow, saying “The madira has brought misfortune on the noble and has exalted the unworthy over the worthy.”‘

  Bernard Lewis, Islam: From the Prophet Muhammad to the

  Capture of Constantinople, vol. 2, pp. 262–8

  COMMENTARY

  This maqama can be read as a parody of the descriptive mode, wasf, which was so fashionable in the 'Abbasid period.

  Madira is a dish which is made with sour milk. In In a Caliph’s Kitchen. Medieval Cooking for the Modern Gourmet (London, 1989), David Waines gives a recipe for a madira whose ingredients include lamb, goat’s yoghurt, an aubergine, an Indian gourd, an onion, a lemon, asparagus, mint, coriander and cumin.

  Raqim and his companions feature in Muslim and Christian legend as the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, who, fleeing from religious persecution, took refuge in a cave where they slept for 309 years. The dog who accompanied them was called Kitmir. The names of the Seven Sleepers and their dog commonly featured on evil-averting talismans.

  Despite the enormous reputation of Hamadhani’s Maqamat, in the twelfth century its fame was overtaken by Hariri’s somewhat similar work, also entitled Maqamat. The latter book is, together with Kalila wa-Dimna by Ibn al-Muqaffa', the most famous work of prose fiction produced in the Arab world. Many people did not bother to have the book on their shelf, since they already knew it by heart. It has had less appeal to readers in the West in modern times and D. S. Margoliouth, the author of the relevant article in the Encyclopaedia of Islam, wrote as follows: ‘The reasons for this extraordinary success … are somewhat difficult to understand and must be accounted for by the decline of literary taste.’

  Abu Muhammad al-Qasim ibn 'Ali al-HARIRI (1054-1122) was born in Basra. He was a scholar with private means and he led a quiet life on an estate outside the city. His Maqamat was allegedly written under the patronage of a vizier who served first the 'Abbasid caliph al-Mustarshid and later the Seljuk Sultan al-Mas'ud. However, although Hariri claimed that his book was written at the behest of ‘one whose suggestion is a command and whom it is a pleasure to obey’, one should bear in mind that this was not an age when writers were supposed to write to please themselves. If they had no patron or potential recipient for what they were about to write, then they invented one. Structurally Hariri’s Maqamat resembles that of his predecessor. It consists of fifty maqamas, each notionally set in a different part of the Islamic world. In each of these places Hariri’s narrator, al-Harith, encounters the wily old rogue Abu Zayd who is spinning a yarn in order to extract money from the gullible. Abu Zayd, who is often in disguise, is a master of the Arabic language and (in the words of R. A. Nicholson) he offers his bemused listeners ‘excellent discourses, edifying sermons, and plaintive lamentations mingled with rollicking ditties and ribald jests’. In the sixth maqama alternate lines are written in letters which have or do not have the dots that define letters of the Arabic alphabet. The sixteenth maqama is devoted to palindromes. The seventeenth is full of riddles. The nineteenth is about the language of food. The twenty-second is a munazara debate on the respective merits of accountants and secretaries. The forty-ninth celebrates the gloriously disreputable life of the Banu Sasan. Only in the fiftieth and final maqama does Abu Zayd repent.

  Abu Zayd, liar and cheat though he is, is steeped in the Qur’an. The Maqamat abounds in direct quotations and allusions to the text. Not only is Abu Zayd well-versed in the Qur’an, most of what he says, as opposed to practises, is thoroughly edifying. Like the jackal Dimna in Kalila wa-Dimna by Ibn al-Muqaffa', Abu Zayd is an unworthy narrator. Abu Zayd discourses in saj' and this contributes to the difficulty of the text. Hariri’s prose is even more elaborate and opaque than Hamadhani’s. (Imagine trying to read a Times crossword puzzle as if it were a short story.) It is impossible fully to understand Hariri’s Maqamat without a commentary, and indeed after the Qur’an this book has attracted more commentaries than any other Arabic book. (It was common to bind in the commentary with the text of the Maqamat.) Abu Zayd’s taxing use of the Arabic language was not a contingent feature of the Maqamat, for Hariri designed the book as a teaching vehicle which would give instruction on the difficult points in Arabic grammar and vocabulary. Although this was an age in which there was considerable prejudice against fiction, Hariri was able to defend his book by pointing to its use in teaching. Indeed the Maqamat was and is used to teach knotty linguistic points and bright children who had succeeded in memorizing the Qur’an were often given the Maqamat to memorize next. Most of the chapters in the Maqamat are named after places in the Islamic world. The chapter extracted below is know
n as the ‘Damascus Maqama’. The translator, R. A. Nicholson, has taken the trouble to imitate the rhymes of the original.

  Al-Hárith son of Hammam related:

  I went from 'Irak to Damascus with its green watercourses, in the day when I had troops of fine-bred horses and was the owner of coveted wealth and resources, free to divert myself, as I chose, and flown with the pride of him whose fullness overflows. When I reached the city after toil and teen on a camel travel-lean, I found it to be all that tongues recite and to contain soul’s desire and eye’s delight. So I thanked my journey and entered Pleasure’s tourney and began there to break the seals of appetites that cloy and cull the clusters of joy, until a caravan for 'Irak was making ready – and by then my wild humour had become steady, so that I remembered my home and was not consoled, but pined for my fold – wherefore I struck the tents of absence and yearning and saddled the steed of returning.