by Robert Irwin
Anon., ‘King Mutton. A curious Egyptian tale of the
Mamluk period’, trans. J. Finkel, in Zeitschrift fur
Semitisik und verwandte Gebiete, vol. 8 (1932), pp. 1–8
COMMENTARY
The fat tail of the sheep was especially esteemed as a dish by the Mamluk elite.
Essentially zirbaj is a Persian sweet-and-sour recipe, but there are many varieties of this dish.
Ibn Zafar’s collection of animal fables, which was very loosely modelled on Kalila wa-Dimna, had more serious literary pretensions. Hujjat al-Din Muhammad IBN ZAFAR (1104–70) was born in Sicily and strictly his book should be accounted as a work of Sicilian Arab literature. Sicily had been occupied by the Arabs in the ninth century, and even after the loss of the island to the Normans in the eleventh century Muslim Arabs continued for some time to play an important role at court and in the administration. However, even in the heyday of Muslim rule in Sicily, the place seems to have been a cultural backwater and Ibn Zafar was one of the very few writers of note to have been born on the island. He was educated in Mecca and later he spent so much time in Syria that his book should be accounted as, to all intents and purposes, a work of Syrian literature.
The title of Ibn Zafar’s book, Sulwan al-Muta’ fi ‘Udwan al-Atba’, has been translated as ‘Resources of a Prince against the Hostility of Subjects’. Sulwan strictly means ‘seashells of a special kind such that if one drinks water from them, one is cured of lovesickness’. Like Kalila wa-Dimna, Sulwan consists of a series of moralizing, proverb-laden animal fables boxed within one another and – again like Kalila wa-Dimna – the book presents itself as a guide to good government. Ibn Zafar dedicated the first version of his book to an unnamed and possibly perfectly imaginary Syrian ruler; the second version was dedicated to a Sicilian Arab grandee. This rather pietistic treatise deals with good kingship, taking wise advice, fortitude in adversity and the benefits and limitations of friendship. Although modelled on the fable collection of Ibn al-Muqaffa, Ibn Zafar’s version is pervaded with an Islamic religiosity which one does not find in Kalila wa-Dimna. Each chapter of Sulwan begins with citations from the Qur’an, the Prophet and other pious figures. Interestingly, Ibn Zafar felt that the practice of fiction needed defence against the strictures of people who saw themselves as even more pious than he was. He invoked the precedents of the early caliphs ‘Umar and Ali who occasionally used fables to drive home their points, as well as the appearance in the Qur’an of the ant and the lapwing as creatures from whom one should take instruction. Ibn Zafar claimed that he employed animal fables to make his points in order that ‘no law shall be found to prohibit my work, nor shall the ear of any be offended by it’. Also, ‘We are more willing to listen to the language of brutes than to the quoted sayings of men of genius.’ Though fiction may have had its critics in the twelfth century, the great ‘Imad al-Din Isfahani commended Ibn Zafar’s collection of fables: ‘I have read it with close attention and have found it a very useful work, combining beauty of thought with diction, and moral warning with instruction.’ However, such were the embarrassments of fiction that in the passage which follows (from the introduction to the first version) Ibn Zafar is impelled to defend the practice of writing fables:
I therefore now prepare myself to set forth the parables of various kinds which I have succeeded in collecting, all resting on the foundation of the original narratives translated into Arabic; which parables I have sought to enliven with the charm of eloquence, and have introduced into them various philosophical sayings put into the mouths of animals. But first I must premise one consideration, in order to shield myself from the blame of the short-sighted, and also from that of men of penetration, who feign not to see. And this consideration is the same which is recorded upon good authority, by the Imam and Jurist Abu Bakr Muhammad ibn Husayn al-Ajawi, who relates that the Commander of the Faithful, ‘Umar ibn ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, having on one occasion attended the obsequies of a member of the house of Umayya when the corpse was buried, commanded those present to remain where they were, whilst he, uttering a cry, went forward into the midst of the tombs. His attendants waited for him a long time, and when he at length returned, with red eyes, and the veins of his neck all swollen, they said to him, ‘You have lingered a long time, O Commander of the Faithful! what has detained you?’ And ‘Umar replied: ‘I have been among the sepulchres of those most dear to me. I saluted them; but no one returned my salutation; and when I turned my back to depart, the earth cried unto me: “ ‘Umar, why dost thou not ask me what is become of the arms?” “What is become of them?” said I; and the earth replied; “The hands have been separated from the wrists, the wrists from the forearms, the forearms from the elbows, the elbows from the joints of the shoulders, the joints from the shoulder blades.” And as I turned in the act to depart, the earth called to me once more: “Why, ‘Umar, dost thou not ask me about, what is become of the trunks?” “What?” replied I, and the earth resumed: “The shoulders have been parted from the ribs: and afterwards, in succession, the ribs, and the backbone, the hipbones, the two thighbones, and in the lower extremities, the knees, the legs, and the feet, have been severed from one another.” I then sought to withdraw, and the voice cried to me a third time: “Attend to me, ‘Umar; hast thou no shrouds that will not wear out?” “And what shrouds will not wear out?” replied I. And the earth answered, “The fear of God, and obedience to his will” ‘and so on to the end of the tradition.
The author of this book says: O reader, may God be gracious unto thee, attend to these words that ‘Umar attributed to the earth, to which, as inanimate matter, it appears absurd to ascribe flowery and elegant language. ‘Umar nevertheless represented the earth as repeatedly calling upon another person, questioning, relating, and admonishing; which assuredly had never really come to pass: but he used this language metaphorically, because having called to mind these philosophical admonitions he was minded to cast them in the form of a narrative, dividing them into questions and answers, attributing them to others, and putting them in the mouth of the inanimate earth, because he perceived that the hearers would thus be more forcibly driven to reflection, and more urgently moved to relate the matter to others. For if he had said, ‘Reflecting upon the state of those who are buried, I perceive that they must be reduced by the earth to such and such a condition’, his warning would not have been expressed with nearly the same vigour that is derived from the original form recorded above…
Ibn Zafar, Solwan, or Waters of Comfort, trans. Edgerton
from Michele Amari’s Italian (London, 1852), pp. 124–6
COMMENTARY
‘Umar ibn ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was one of the Ummayad caliphs and reigned from 717 to 720. Although ‘Umar when young seems to have had a taste for luxury, when he became caliph he was noted for austere piety.
Ibn Zafar goes on to cite an instance when ‘Ali, the Prophet’s cousin and son-in-law, used a fable concerning three bulls and a lion to make a political point. Thus comfortably supported by pious precedent, Ibn Zafar concludes that ‘the examples here alleged give abundant evidence of the lawfulness of the species of fiction which I have undertaken to relate’.
Ibn Zafar also wrote Inba Nujaba’ al-Abna’, a treatise on the intriguing subject of the characteristics of children of the famous.
Thanks to the abundance of madrasas (teaching colleges) and khanqas (Sufi hospices or colleges), Egypt and Syria under the Ayyubids and Mamluks offered good prospects for intellectual employment and lured scholars and authors from all over the Islamic world. ‘Ala al-Din ibn ‘Ali al-GHUZULI (d. 1412) was of Berber origin and came from North Africa, but settled in Damascus. His Matali’ al-Budur fi Manazil al-Surur (‘Risings of the Full Moons in the Mansions of Pleasure’) is a belles-lettres compilation on the pleasures of life, including houses, gardens, hammams, palaces, birds, parties, lamps, chess, wine, cup companions, storytelling, slave-girls, sex, the pleasures of talking with viziers and reading chancery documents. Ghuzuli drew hea
vily on earlier adab compilations and his work is a late testimony to the enduring appeal of the culture of the nadim and the zarif. The following old Bedouin romance is found in several other belles-lettres anthologies.
Numayr, of the tribe Hilal, narrates the following: There was a certain youth of the Bani Hilal whose name was Bishr ibn ‘Abdallah, but who was commonly known as el-Ashtar. Among all the chieftains of the tribe, he was the handsomest face and the most liberal hand. He fell desperately in love with a girl of his people named Jayda’, who was pre-eminent in her beauty and her accomplishments; then after the fact of their attachment became generally known, the affair grew to be a cause of strife between their two families, until blood was shed; whereupon the two clans separated, and settled at a long distance apart from each other.
So when the time of separation grew so long for al-Ashtar that he could bear it no more, he came to me, and said: ‘O Numayr, have you no aid for me?’ I answered: ‘There is with me naught but what you wish.’ Then he said: ‘You must help me to visit Jayda’, for the longing to see her has carried away my soul.’ ‘Most gladly and freely!’ I replied; ‘Only set out, and we will go whenever you wish.’ So we rode away together, and journeyed that day and night, and the morrow until evening, when we halted our beasts in a ravine near the settlement of the clan we were seeking. Then he said: ‘Do you go on, and mingle with the people; and when you meet anyone, say that you are in search of a stray camel. Let no mention of me pass lip or tongue, until you find her servant-girl, named so-and-so, who is tending their sheep. Give her my greeting and ask her for tidings; tell her also where I am.’
So I went forth, not averse to do what he bade me, until I found the servant-girl and brought her the message, telling her where el-Ashtar was, and asking her for tidings. She sent back this word: ‘She is treated harshly, and they keep watch of her. But your place of meeting will be the first of those trees which are near by the hin-dermost of the tents, and the time the hour of the evening prayer.’
So I returned to my comrade, and told him what I had heard. Thereupon we set out, leading our beasts, until we came to the designated spot at the appointed time. We had waited only a few moments when we saw Jayda’ walking toward us. El-Ashtar sprang forward and seized her hand, giving her his greeting, while I withdrew a little from them; but they both cried out: ‘We adjure you by Allah to come back, for we intend nothing dishonourable, nor is there anything between us that need be hid from you.’ So I returned to them and sat beside them. Then el-Ashtar said: ‘Can you contrive no way, Jayda’, by which we may have this night to ourselves?’ ‘No,’ she replied, ‘nor is it in any way possible for me, without the return of all that misery and strife of which you know.’ ‘Nevertheless it must be,’ he answered, ‘even if that results which seems likely.’ But she said: ‘Will this friend of yours assist us?’ I answered: ‘Only say what you have devised; for I will go through to the very end of your plan, though the loss of my life should be in it.’ Thereupon she took off her outer garments, saying: ‘Put these on, and give me your garments in place of them.’ This I did. Then she said: ‘Go to my tent, and take your place behind my curtain; for my husband will come to you, after he has finished milking, bringing a full jar of milk, and he will say: “Here, your evening draught!” But do not take it from him, until you have tried his patience well; then either take it or leave it, so that he will put it down and go away; and then (please Allah) you will not see him again until morning.’
So I went away, and did as she had bidden me. When he came with the jar of milk I refused to take it, until he was thoroughly tired of my contrariness; then I wished to take it from him, and he at the same time wished to put it down; so our two hands met at cross purposes on the jar, and it upset, and the milk was all spilled. Thereupon he cried out: ‘This is wilfulness beyond the limit!’, and he thrust his hand into the front part of the tent and brought out a leather whip coiled like a serpent. Then he came in, tearing down my curtain, and had used the whip on me for full twenty lashes when his mother and sister entered and pulled me out of his hands. But, by Allah, before they did this I had lost control of myself, and was just ready to stab him with my knife, whether it cost me my life or not. However, as soon as they had gone out I fastened up my curtain again, and sat down as before.
Only a short time had passed when Jayda”s mother entered and spoke to me, never doubting that I was her daughter. But I struck up a weeping and a sobbing, and hid my face in my garment, turning my back to her. So she said: ‘O my dear daughter, fear Allah and keep from displeasing your husband, for that is where your duty lies; as for el-Ashtar, you have seen him for the last time.’ Then as she was going out she said: ‘I will send in your sister to keep you company tonight.’ And sure enough, after a few minutes the girl appeared. She began crying and calling down curses on him who beat me, but I made no answer. Then she nestled up close to me. As soon as I had her in my power, I clapped my hand over her mouth, and said: ‘O Such-a-one, that sister of yours is with el-Ashtar, and it is in her service that my back has been flayed this night. Now it behoves you to keep her secret, so choose for yourself and for her; for by Allah, if you utter a single word, I will make all the outcry I can, until the disgrace becomes general.’ Then I took away my hand from her mouth. She trembled like a branch in the wind; but after we had been together a little while she made friends with me, and there passed the night with me then and there the most delightful companion I have ever had. We did not cease chatting together, and she was also rallying me, and laughing at the plight I was in. And I found myself in the position of one who, had he wished to take a base advantage, could have done so; but Allah restrained me from evil, and to him is the praise.
Thus we continued until the dawn broke, when lo, Jayda’ stole in upon us. When she saw us, she started, and cried out: ‘Allah! Who is this?’ ‘Your sister!’ I replied. ‘What has happened?’ she asked. ‘She will tell you,’ I answered, ‘for she, on my word, is the sweetest of sisters.’ Then I took my own clothing, and made off to my companion. As we rode, I narrated to him what had happened to me, and bared my back for him to see. Such a flaying as it had had – may Allah throw into hellfire the man who did it! – from every single stripe the blood was oozing out. When he saw this, he exclaimed: ‘Great was the deed which you did, and great the acknowledgement due you; your hand was generous indeed! May Allah not withhold me from repaying you in full.’ And from that time on he never ceased to show me his gratitude and appreciation.
Ghuzuli, Matali ‘al-Budur fi Manazil al-Surur, ‘A Friend in
Need’, trans. Charles Torrey, Journal of the American
Oriental Society 26 (1905), pp. 303–30
Shihab al-Din Ahmad ibn Muhammad IBN ‘ARABSHAH (1392–1450) was born in Damascus. In 1400, when Ibn ‘Arabshah was only nine, Syria was invaded by a Turco-Mongol army under the command of Timur (also known in the West as Tamerlane), Damascus was sacked, and Ibn ‘Arabshah and his family were among the thousands taken off in captivity to Timur’s Central Asian capital, Samarkand. While in the eastern lands, Ibn ‘Arabshah learnt Turkish, Persian and Mongolian. Subsequently he travelled widely in the Islamic world and for a time served as secretary to the Ottoman Turkish Sultan Mehmed I, before settling in Egypt, where he wrote various works designed to attract the patronage of the Mamluk sultan. In the long run he was unsuccessful in this endeavour and, despite having begun a eulogistic biography of the Sultan Jaqmaq, the sultan imprisoned him and Ibn ‘Arabshah was to die in captivity.
Ibn ‘Arabshah’s earlier works included a volume of animal fables in the tradition of Kalila wa-Dimna and Sulwan al-Muta. The Fakihat al-Khulafa” wa Mufakahat al-Zurafa’, or ‘The Caliph’s Delicacy and Joke of the Refined’, like its predecessors purports to give guidance on good government and how to take wise counsel. The ape is the governor of a province, the fox is his vizier, the mule is the qadi, the panther an obedient subject, and so on. Wise animals teach man. Like Ibn Zafar, Ibn ‘Arabshah in his pr
eface justified the writing and reading of animal stories by quoting the Qur’an and other impeccable precedents. Some of the Fakihat is really no more than a plagiarization of the Marzuban-nama, an eleventh-century Persian collection of animal fables by Marzubani-Rustam-i-Sharwin. On the other hand, much of the work, particularly the diatribes against Timur, is original to Ibn ‘Arabshah.
Ibn ‘Arabshah’s chief claim to fame is his full-length biography of Timur. Although his time as a prisoner in Samarkand was the intellectual making of him, Ibn ‘Arabshah was not grateful to his captor and his life of Timur is an act of retrospective revenge. The ‘Aja’ib al-Maqdur fi-Nawa’ib Timur, or ‘Wonders of Destiny regarding the Misfortunes Inflicted by Timur’, is a vitriolic biography of the would-be world conqueror, written in the most extraordinarily ornate and metaphor-laden rhymed prose. Ibn ‘Arabshah’s colourful but rather strained imagery is certainly the product of his familiarity with the classics of Persian literature. Among the chapter headings of the biography one comes across such choice specimens as ‘What Timur Did with the Rogues and Villains of Samarkand and how He Sent Them to Hell’, ‘The Cause of His Invading Arabian Iraq, Though His Tyranny Needed No Reason or Cause’, ‘An Example of the Way in which that Faithless Despot Plunged into the Seas of His Army, and Dived into Affairs, then Advanced with the Surge of Calamities; and Particularly His Plunges into Transoxania and His Coming Forth from the Country of Lur’, and ‘The Thunderstorms of that Exceeding Disaster Pour from the Clouds of Greed upon the Territories of Syria’. Ibn ‘Arabshah’s portrayal of Timur, which verges on parody, may remind some of Sir Thomas More’s life of Richard III.
