Čahār Maqālah - The Čahār Maqāla

IN my article on The Sources of Dawlatsháh, which appeared in the January number of the Journal, I have already spoken of the excellent work which I now have the pleasure to present in English dress. For my translation I have used the Tihrán lithographed edition of A.H. 1305, which I have carefully collated throughout with the older of the two British Museum MSS. (Or. 3,507, dated A.H. 1017), and, in all doubtful passages, with the second MS. (Or. 2,955, dated A.H. 1274) also. These MSS. are fully described in Rieu's Persian Supplement, pp. 244-245 and 265, Nos. 390 and 418. It remains only to say a few words concerning the author and the book.

The Chahár Maqála contains, as its name implies, four discourses, each of which treats of a class of men deemed by the author indispensable for the service of kings, to wit, (1) scribes (dabírán) or secretaries; (2) poets; (3) astrologers; and (4) physicians. Each discourse begins with certain general considerations on the class in question, which are afterwards illustrated by anecdotes, drawn, in large measure, from the personal reminiscences of the author, who was himself a court-poet and a frequenter of royal assemblies. The total number of these anecdotes, which constitute at once the most entertaining and the most valuable portion of the book, is about forty, an average of ten to each “discourse.” So far as I know, only two of them, one concerning Firdawsí and the other about 'Umar Khayyám, have hitherto been cited from this work. Of these the first (translated by Ethé in vol. xlviii of the Z.D.M.G., pp. 89-94) was taken, not from the Chahár Maqála itself, but from Ibn Isfandiyár's History of Ṭabaristán, where it is quoted in extenso; while the second seems to have been known only in abridged citations, the misunderstanding of which gave rise to the Rose-tree cult of the 'Umar Khayyám Society, referred to at p. 414 of the April number of the Journal.

Of the excellent style of the Chahár Maqála, a style at once strong, concise, and pregnant with meaning, though not always easy or simple, I have already spoken at pp. 40, 53, 56-57, and 61-69 of the January number of the Journal, so that there is no occasion to insist upon it further. As, however, my translation will occupy two numbers of the Journal, it may be convenient that I should here give a brief table of its contents.

(1) Doxology, and Dedication to the Ghúrid Prince Abu'l-Ḥasan 'Alí b. Mas'úd, son of Fakhru'd-Dín Mas'úd, brother of Shamsu'd-Dín Muḥammad, and nephew of “the World-consumer” (Jahán-súz) 'Alá'u'd-Dín Ḥusayn who reigned A.D. 1149-1170 (pp. 1-6).

(2) Beginning of the book. The author here gives his full name as Aḥmad b. 'Umar b. 'Alí an-Nidhámí as-Samarqandí, and states that he has been in the service of the House of Ghúr for forty-five years (pp. 6-7).

(3) Excursus i, on the different grades of Being, and the Creation and Disposition of the World (pp. 7-11).

(4) Excursus ii, on the Development of the Mineral, Vegetable, and Animal Kingdoms (pp. 11-14).

(5) Excursus iii, on the Evolution, Faculties, and Senses (internal and external) of Man; the three classes of men; and the Kingly and Prophetic Offices (pp. 14-26), including—

(6) Anecdote i, on the Nasnás, or Wild Man (pp. 20-21), and ending with—

(7) Plan of work and brief statement of contents (pp. 26-27).

Nature of the Secretarial Function and Qualifications of the Perfect Scribe (pp. 27-33).¹

Anecdote ii, concerning Iskáfí (pp. 33-36).

Anecdote iii, on Iskáfí's despatch announcing the defeat of Mákán (pp. 36-40).

Anecdote iv, showing that a Secretary of State should not be exposed to domestic worry (pp. 40-42).

Anecdote v, concerning the Ṣáḥib Isma'íl ibn 'Abbád (pp. 42-43).

Anecdote vi, concerning Aḥmad Hasan of Maymand and the Lamghán deputies (pp. 43-46).

Anecdote vii, concerning al-Ma'mún's wedding (pp. 46-51).

Anecdote viii, concerning al-Mustarshid's oration against the Seljúqs (pp. 51-53).

Anecdote ix, concerning the Gúr Khán (pp. 53-54).

Anecdote x, concerning the supernatural eloquence of the Qur'án (pp. 54-55).

Anecdote xi, concerning Muḥammad b. 'Abdu'lláh, Bughrá Khán's secretary (pp. 55-59).

Nature of the Poetic Art, and Qualifications of the Expert Poet (pp. 59-69), including—

Anecdote xii, concerning Aḥmad b. 'Abdu'lláh of Khujistán (pp. 59-61), and—

List of the eminent poets who have shed lustre on the courts of the various Persian dynasties down to the author's time (pp. 62-64).

Anecdote xiii, concerning Rúdagí's skill in improvisation (pp. 69-76).

Anecdote xiv, concerning Maḥmúd and Ayáz, and 'Unṣurí's improvisation (pp. 76-79).

Anecdote xv, concerning Farrukhí's improvisation (pp. 79-87).

Anecdote xvi, concerning the author's early struggles, and Mu'izzí's counsel and encouragement (pp. 87-93).

Anecdote xvii, concerning the anger of Ṭughán Sháh and Azraqí's improvisation (pp. 93-95).

Anecdote xviii, concerning the imprisonment of Mas'úd-i-Sa'd-i-Salmán and others by Sulṭán Ibráhím (pp. 95-98).

Anecdote xix, concerning 'Am'aq and Rashídí (pp. 98-101).

Anecdote xx, concerning Firdawsí (pp. 101-109).

Anecdote xxi, autobiographical (pp. 109-113).

Nature of Astrology, and Qualifications of the Expert Astrologer (pp. 113-115).

Anecdote xxii, concerning Ya'qúb b. Isḥáq al-Kindí (pp. 115-118).

Anecdote xxiii, concerning Sulṭán Maḥmúd and Abú Rayḥán al-Bírúní (pp. 118-123).

Anecdote xxiv, concerning the skill possessed by an old woman in the author's service in the Lore of the Stars (pp. 123-125).

Anecdote xxv, concerning Maḥmúd Dá'údí, the crazy soothsayer (pp. 125-128).

Anecdote xxvi, concerning al-Mawṣilí, the Astrologer, and the Nidhámu'l-Mulk (pp. 128-130).

Anecdote xxvii, concerning 'Umar Khayyám's prediction as to his place of burial (pp. 130-131).

Anecdote xxviii, concerning a weather forecast made by 'Umar Khayyám (pp. 131-133).

Anecdote xxix, concerning a vagrant and irresponsible Astrologer (pp. 133-136).

Anecdote xxx, concerning a successful prognostication made by the author (pp. 136-138).

Nature of the Science and Art of Medicine, and Qualifications of the Physician (pp. 138-141).

Anecdote xxxi, concerning faith-healing (pp. 141-146), including a dissertation on the most excellent works on Medicine, and the pre-eminence of Avicenna.

Anecdote xxxii, concerning a heroic cure wrought by Bukht-Yishú' (pp. 146-147).

Anecdote xxxiii, concerning a remarkable cure of Rheumatism (pp. 147-149).

Anecdote xxxiv, concerning another remarkable cure effected by Muḥammad Zakariyyá ar-Rází by the instrumentality of mental emotion (pp. 149-154).

Anecdote xxxv, concerning the adventures and the skill of Avicenna (pp. 154-163).

Anecdote xxxvi, concerning a heroic cure wrought by 'Aḍudu'd-Dawla's physician Kámilu'ṣ-Ṣaná'at (pp. 163-165).

Anecdote xxxvii, concerning a remarkable cure of Melancholia effected by Avicenna (pp. 165-168).

Anecdote xxxviii, concerning the restoration to life of a man apparently dead by Adíb Isma'íl (pp. 168-169).

Anecdote xxxix, concerning the reproof addressed by a physician to a theologian whom he had saved from imminent death (pp. 169-170).

Anecdote xl, concerning a cure effected by Galen (pp. 170-171).

Anecdote xli, concerning a remarkable cure wrought by the author (pp. 171-173).

Conclusion (pp. 173-174).

Postscript by the editor of the Tihrán edition (pp. 174-176).

As regards the author, Nidhámí-i-'Aruḍí of Samarqand, he will best reveal himself by his own numerous allusions to his career and adventures. His present work was written, at least in part, during the lifetime of 'Alá'u'd-Dín Ḥusayn Jahán-súz (“the World-consumer”), who died in A.D. 1161, and since he speaks of himself as having been forty-five years in the service of the House of Ghúr, it is evident that he must have been born towards the end of the eleventh century of our era. The chief dates which he gives in the autobiographical portions of his work are as follows. In A.H. 504 (A.D. 1110-1111) he heard traditions concerning Rúdagí at Samarqand (Anecdote xiii). In A.H. 506 (A.D. 1112-1113) he met 'Umar Khayyám at Níshápúr (Anecdote xxvii). In A.H. 509 (A.D. 1115-1116) he was at Herát (Anecdote xvii). In the following year he was at Níshápúr (Anecdote i) and Ṭús (Anecdotes xvi and xx), where he visited Firdawsí's tomb. His position and income were at this time precarious, but, encouraged by the poet Mu'izzí, he succeeded in attracting the king's notice and winning his approval. In A.H. 512 (A.D. 1118-1119) he was again at Níshápúr (Anecdote xxxi), and once more in A.H. 530 (A.D. 1135-1136), when he visited 'Umar Khayyám's grave, and remarked the fulfilment of the prediction uttered by the Astronomer-poet twenty-four years earlier (Anecdote xxvii). In A.H. 547 (A.D. 1152-1153) he was involved in the defeat of the army of Ghúr by Sanjar b. Maliksháh the Seljúq, and was for a while in hiding at Herát (Anecdotes xxx and xli). His life, in short, seems to have been spent chiefly in Khurásán at royal courts, where he had opportunities of meeting many noteworthy persons. Though a poet by profession, he seems to have been equally ready to practise Astrology (Anecdote xxx) and Medicine (Anecdote xli). Of his personal character, as of his ability, his work produces, on the whole, a very favourable impression, and the book itself I should be disposed to describe as one of the most interesting, the most instructive, the most charming, and the best written Persian prose works which it has been my fortune to come across. Of this, however, the reader shall judge for himself.

Notices of the writer occur in 'Awfí's Lubábu'l-Albáb (ch. x, § 2, Poets of Transoxania), from which we learn nothing about his personality save that he bore the laqab of Najmu'd-Dín; Dawlatsháh's Tadhkira (Ṭabaqa i, No. 13, pp. 60-61 of my forthcoming edition), where laudatory mention is made of the Chahár Maqála; Hájí Khalífa (No. 4,348, s.v. ◌), who calls him Nidhámu'd-Dín (instead of Najmu'd-Dín), which is probably correct; the Majma'u'l-Fuṣaḥá of that most accomplished of recent Persian writers, Riḍá-qulí Khán (vol. i, p. 635), who places him higher as a prose-writer than as a poet; and, no doubt, other biographical works. But, leaving these aside, let us now allow the author to speak for himself, only premising that, where reference is made to various readings, the older MS. (Or. 3,507) is denoted by A, the other MS. (Or. 2,955) by B, and the Tihrán lithographed edition by L.

Praise and thanks and glory to that King who, by¹

the instrumentality of the Cherubim and Angels of the Spirit World, brought into being the World of Return and Restoration, and, by means thereof, created and adorned the World of Becoming and Decay, maintaining it by the Command and Prohibition of the Prophets and Saints, and restraining it by the swords and pens of Kings and Ministers. And blessings upon the Lord of both worlds, who was the most perfect of the Prophets, and invocations of grace upon his Companions and those of his Household, who were the most excellent of Saints and Vicars. And honour to the King of this time, that learned, just, divinely-favoured, victorious, and heaven-aided monarch, Ḥusámu'd-Dawla wa'd-Dín, Helper of Islám and the Muslims, Exterminator of the infidels and polytheists, Subduer of the heretical and the froward, Supporter of hosts in the worlds, Pride of Kings and Emperors, Succourer of mankind, Protector of these days, Fore-arm of the Caliphate, Beauty of the Faith and Glory of the Nation, Order of the Arabs and the Persians, noblest of mankind, Shamsu'l-Ma'álí, Maliku'l-Umará, Abu'l-Ḥasan 'Alí b. Mas'úd,¹

Help of the Prince of Believers, may his life be filled with success, may the greater part of the world be assigned to his name, and may the ordering of the affairs of Adam's seed be directed by his care! For to-day he is the most excellent of the kings of the age in nobility, pedigree, doughty deeds, judgement, statesmanship, justice, equity, valour, and generosity, as well as in the adorning of his territory, the embellishment of his realms, the maintenance of his friends, the subjugation of his foes, the raising of armies, the safeguarding of the people, the securing of the roads, and the tranquilizing of the realms,²

and also in that upright judgement, clear understanding, strong resolve, and firm determination, by the excellence of which the concatenation of the House of Shansab³

is held together and maintained in order, and by the perfection of which the strong arm of that Dynasty is strengthened and braced. May God Almighty give him full portion, together with the other kings of that line, of dominion and domain, and throne and fortune, by His Favour and His Grace!

But to proceed. It is an old custom and ancient practice, which custom is maintained and observed, that the Author, in the introduction to his discourse and preface of his book, should commemorate somewhat of his patron's praise, and record some prayer on behalf of the object of his eulogy. But I, a loyal servant, instead of praise and prayer for this prince, will make mention in this book of those favours ordained and vouchsafed by God Almighty to this King of kingly parentage, that, these being submitted to his world-illuminating judgement, he may betake himself to the expression of his thanks for them. For in the uncreated Scripture and unmade Word, God says, “Verily if ye be thankful, We will give unto you increase”¹;

for the gratitude of the servant is an alchemy for the favours of the Munificent Lord. Briefly, then, it behoves this great King and puissant Prince to know that to-day, upon the whole of this globe of dust, and within the circle of this green firmament,²

there is no king in more ample circumstances than this monarch, nor any potentate enjoying more abundant good than this sovereign. He hath the gift of youth and the blessing of constant health; his father and mother are alive; congenial brothers are on his right hand and on his left. And what father is like his sire, the mighty, divinely-strengthened, ever-victorious, heaven-aided Fakhru'd-Dawla wa'd-Dín,³

Prince of the realms of Írán, King of the Mountains (may God prolong his continuance and continue to the heights his exaltation!), who is the most puissant of the monarchs of the age, and the most excellent of the princes of the time in judgement, statecraft, knowledge, chivalry, swordsmanship, strength of arm, treasure, and muniment! Supported by ten⁴

thousand men bearing spears and handling reins, he hath made himself a shield before his sons, so that no disturbing blast of the zephyr may so much as blow on one of their servants. Under his high protection and unassailable precaution (may God increase their degree!), prayers, of which each clause is breathed upwards at full morning-tide to the Court of God, co-operate with a far-trailing host and wheeling army. What a brother, too, like the royal Prince Shamsu'd-Dawla wa'd-Dín, Light of Islám and the Muslims (may his victories be rendered glorious!), who reaches the extreme limit of endeavour in the service of this my master (whose exaltation may God perpetuate!). Praise be to God that this my master omits naught either in reward or retribution!¹

And a favour yet greater is this, that the All-Perfect Benefactor and Unchanging Giver hath bestowed on him an uncle like the Lord of the World and Sovereign of the East, 'Alá'u'd-Dunyá wa'd-Dín Abú 'Alí al-Ḥusayn b. al-Ḥusayn,²

Ikhtiyáru Amíri'l-Mú'minín (may God prolong his life³

and cause his kingdom to endure!), who, with fifty thousand mail-clad men, strenuous in endeavour, obliterated the hosts of the world, and set in a corner all the kings of the age. May God (blessed and exalted is He!) long vouchsafe all to one another, and give all long enjoyment of one another's company, and fill the world with light by their achievements, by His Favour, and Bounty, and Grace!

Your loyal servant and faithful retainer Aḥmad b. 'Umar⁴

b. 'Alí an-Nidhámí al-'Arúḍí as-Samarqandí, who for forty-five years hath been devoted to the service of this House and inscribed in the register of the vassals of this Dynasty, desireth to render a service to the Supreme Imperial Court (may God exalt it!), and to set forth, according to the canons of Philosophy, duly adorned with decisive proofs, trenchant arguments and sound counsel, what kingship truly is, who is truly king, whence is derived this honourable office, to whom rightly appertaineth this favour, and in what manner one ought to show one's gratitude for, and after what fashion accept, this privilege, so as to be second to the Lord of the children of men and third to the All-Provider of the Universe; for in the Incontrovertible Scripture and Eternal Word God hath co-ordinated on one thread the pearls represented by these three exalted titles: “Obey God,” saith He, “and obey His Apostle, and such as possess authority amongst yourselves.”¹

Now in the grades of existences and the ranks of the intelligibles, apart from the prophetic function, which is the supreme limit of man's degree, there is no rank higher than sovereignty, which is naught else but a Divine gift. God, glorious is His Name, hath accorded this position to the King of the age, and bestowed on him this degree, so that he may walk after the way of former kings and maintain the people after the manner of bygone ages.

The August Discernment (may God exalt it!) must know that every being which inhabits the Universe falls necessarily into one of two categories. Either it is a being which is self-existent, and is called ‘the Necessarily Existent,’ which is God Almighty, great is His Glory, who existeth by virtue of Himself, and who, therefore, hath existed for ever, since He dependeth not on aught else; and who was always, since He subsisteth by Himself, not by another. But that existence whose being is through another is called ‘Contingent Being,’ and this is such as we are, since our being is from the seed, and the seed is from the blood, and the blood is from food, and food is from the sun, the earth, the water and the air, which in turn are from something else; and all these are such as yesterday were not, and to-morrow will not be. Now when reflection is carried to the uttermost, it appeareth that this Causal Nexus reacheth upwards to a Cause which deriveth not its being from another, but existeth by itself; and that the Creator is all, and from Him all deriveth its existence and subsistence. And when this matter is somewhat pondered, it will become clear that Phenomena consist of Being tinctured with Not-being, while He IS by a continuity which reaches from Eternity Past to Eternity to come. And since the essence of Phenomena is of Not-being, they must inevitably return again to nothing; and again, as touching the basis of the human race,¹

it is said, “Everything shall return unto its Origin,” more especially in this world of Becoming and Decay. Therefore we, who are contingent in our being, have our origin in Not-being; while He, who existeth necessarily, is the Essence of Being, even as He (glorious is His state) saith in the Perspicuous Word and Firm Support, “All things perish save His Countenance.”²

Now you must know that this world lies in the hollow of the Heaven of the Moon³

and within the circle of this first sphere, and is called “the World of Becoming and Decay.” And you must thus conceive it, that within the concavity of the Heaven of the Moon lies the Orb of Fire, round about which extends the Heaven of the Moon; and that within the Heaven of Fire is the Air, surrounded by the Fire, and within the Air is the Water, surrounded by the Air, while within the Water is the earth, with the Water round about it. And in the midst of the earth is an imaginary point, from which all straight lines drawn to the Heaven of the Moon are equal; and when we speak of “down,” we mean this point and what lies nearest to it; and when we speak of “up,” we mean the sphere of the remotest heaven, together with what lies nearest to it, this being a heaven⁴

above the Zodiacal Heaven, having naught beyond it, for with it the material world terminates, or comes to an end.

Now when God Almighty, by His effective Wisdom, desired to produce in this world minerals, plants, animals, and men, He created the stars, and in particular the sun and moon, whereon he made the growth and decay of these to depend. And the special property of the sun is this, that by its reflection it warms all things when it stands over against them, and supplies them through a medium with heat, and draws them up—that is, attracts them. So, by its juxtaposition, it warmed the water; and by means of the warmth, attracted it; until, in a long while, it laid bare one quarter or more of the earth's surface, by reason of the much vapour which ascended and rose up therefrom. Now the nature of the water is this, that it can become stone, as it is well known to do in certain places, as may be actually witnessed.¹

So mountains were produced from the water and the shining of the sun; and hereby the earth became somewhat raised from what it was, while the water sank and dried up, according to that fashion which is witnessed. This portion, therefore, is called ‘the Uncovered Quarter,’ for the reason above stated; and it is also called ‘the Inhabited Quarter,’ because animals dwell therein.

When the influences of these stars had acted on the whole of²

these elements, they were reflected back from the midst of the earth and water, from that imaginary point [mentioned above], by the aid of the fire and wind, and the phenomena of the inorganic world were produced, such as mountains and mines, clouds, lightning, thunder, thunderbolts, shooting stars, comets, meteors, …,³

halos, conflagrations, earthquakes, and all manner of fountains, as has been fully explained in works treating of the effects of the celestial bodies, but for the explanation and discussion of which there is no room in this brief manual. But when time began, and the cycles of heaven became continuous, and the composition of this lower world became matured, and the time was come for the fertilization of that interspace which lay between the water and the air, the vegetable world was manifested. Then God, blessed and exalted is He, created for that substance whereby the plants were made manifest four subservient forces and three faculties. Of these four subservient forces, one was that which kept drawing to it whatever was suitable for its purpose, and this is called ‘Attraction’ (Jádhiba). Another keeps what the first may have attracted, and this is called ‘Fixation’ (Másika). The third is that which assimilates what has been attracted, and transmutes it from its former state until it becomes like unto itself, and this is called ‘Assimilation’ (Ḥáḍima). The fourth is that which rejects what is not appropriate, and is called ‘Excretion’ (Dáfi'a). And of the three faculties, one is that which increaseth it by diffusing throughout it nutritious matters with a suitable and equal diffusion. The second is that which accompanies this nutriment until it reaches the extremities. The third is that which, when the organism has attained perfection and begins to tend towards defect, appears and produces germs, in order that, if destruction overtake the parent in this world, these may become its substitute and representative, so that the order of the world may be guarded from detriment, and the species may not cease. This is called the ‘Reproductive Faculty’ (Quwwat-i-Muwallida).

So this kingdom rose superior to the mineral and vegetable kingdoms in these several ways which have been mentioned; and the far-reaching Wisdom of the Creator so ordained, that these kingdoms should be connected successively and continuously, so that in the mineral kingdom the first thing which attained completeness and underwent the process of evolution became higher in organization until it grew to coral (marján, i.e. bussad), which is the ultimate term of the mineral world,¹

until it was connected with the first stage of plant life. And the first thing in the vegetable kingdom is the thorn, and the last the date-palm, which has been assimilated to the animal kingdom, since it needs the male to fertilize it so that it may bear fruit;²

while another [member of this kingdom] flees from its foe, for the vine flees from the 'ashaqa,³

a plant which, when it twists round the vine, causes it to shrivel up. In the vegetable kingdom, therefore, there is nothing higher than the date-palm and the vine, inasmuch as they are connected with the superior kingdom, and have outstepped the limits of their own world, and have evolved themselves in a higher direction.

Now when this kingdom had attained perfection, and the influence of the ‘Fathers’ of the upper world had worked on the ‘Mothers’⁴

below, and these had assumed a finer temper, and the interspace between the air and the fire became involved, and a finer offspring resulted, the manifestation of the animal world took place. This took to itself the faculties possessed by the vegetable kingdom, and added thereunto two others, one the faculty of discovery, which is called the ‘Perceptive Faculty’ (Mudrika), whereby the animal discerns things; the second the power of voluntary movement, by the help of which the animal moves automatically, approaching that which is agreeable to it and retreating from that which is offensive to it; and this is called the ‘Motor Faculty’ (Muḥarrika).

Now the Perceptive Faculty is subdivided into ten branches, five of which are called the External Senses and five the Internal Senses. The former are Touch, Taste, Hearing, Sight, and Smell. Now Touch is a sense distributed throughout the flesh and skin of the animal, so that the nerves perceive and discern anything which touches it, such as dryness and moisture, heat and cold, roughness and smoothness, harshness and softness. Taste is a sense located in that nerve which is distributed over the surface of the tongue, which apprehends tastes and dissolved flavours from those bodies which come in contact with it; and it is this sense which discriminates between sweet and bitter, sharp and sour, and the like of these. Hearing is a sense located in the nerve which is distributed about the auditory meatus, so that it detects any sound which is discharged against it by undulations of the air compressed between two impinging bodies, that is to say, two bodies brought into contact with one another, by the impact of which the air is thrown into waves and becomes the cause of sound, inasmuch as it acts upon the air which is stationary in the auditory meatus, comes into contact with it, reaches this nerve, and gives rise to the sensation of hearing. Sight is a faculty located in two nerve-bulbs, which discerns images projected on the crystalline humour, whether of figures or solid bodies, variously coloured by the medium of a translucent substance which subsists between it and the surfaces of reflecting bodies. Smell is a faculty located in a protuberance situated in the fore part of the brain and resembling the nipple of the female breast, which apprehends what the air inhaled brings to it of odours mingled with the vapours wafted by air-currents, or what is impressed upon it by diffusion from the odorific body.

The Five Internal Senses.¹

Now as to the Internal Senses, some are such as perceive sense-impressions, while others are such as apprehend ideas. The first is the ‘Composite Sense’ (Ḥiss-i-mushtarika), which is a faculty located in the anterior ventricles of the brain, and receptive into itself of any image apprehended by the external senses, or impressed upon them for communication to it, such perception being apprehended only when received by it. The second is the Imagination (Khayál), a faculty located in the posterior ventricles of the second convolution of the brain, which preserves what the Composite Sense has apprehended from the external senses, so that this remains in it after the subsidence of the sense-impressions. The third is the ‘Imaginative Faculty’ (Mutakhayyila), thus called when animals are under discussion, but, in the case of the human soul, named the ‘Cogitative Faculty’ (Mutafakkira). This is a faculty located in the middle ventricle of the brain, whose function it is to co-ordinate with one another, and to preserve, those particular percepts which are stored in the Imagination, and to keep them distinct from one another by the control of thought. The fourth is the ‘Apprehensive Faculty’ (Wáhima), which is a faculty located in the extremity of the middle ventricle of the brain. Its function is to discover the supra-sensual ideas existing in particular percepts. By it the kid distinguishes between its dam and a wolf, and the child between a piece of rope and a serpent. The fifth is the ‘Retentive Faculty’ (Ḥáfidha), also called the ‘Memory’ (Dhákira), which is a faculty located in the posterior ventricle of the brain. It preserves those suprasensual ideas discovered by the Apprehension; between which and itself the same relation subsists as between the Imagination and the Composite Sense, though the latter preserves forms and the former ideas.

Now all these are the servants of the Animal Soul, a substance having its well-spring in the heart, which, when it acts in the heart, is called the Animal Spirit, but when in the brain, the Psychic Spirit, and when in the liver, the Natural Spirit. It is a subtle vapour which rises from the blood, diffuses itself to the remotest arteries, and resembles the sun in luminosity. Every animal which possesses these Perceptive and Motor faculties, and these ten subordinate faculties derived therefrom, is called a perfect animal; but if any faculty is lacking in it, defective. Thus the snake has no ears, the ant no eyes, and these two are called deaf and blind; but none is more defective than the maggot, which is a red worm found in the mud of streams,¹

called therefore gil-khwára (‘mud-eater’), but in Transoxania Za'ák-kirma (?).²

This is the lowest animal, while the highest is the satyr (nasnás),³

a creature inhabiting the plains of Turkistán, of erect carriage, of vertical stature, with wide flat nails. It cherishes a great affection for men; wherever it sees them, it halts on their path and examines them attentively; and when it finds a solitary man, it carries him off; nay, it is even said that it will conceive from him. This, after mankind, is the highest of animals, inasmuch as in several respects it resembles man; first, in its erect stature; secondly, in the breadth of its nails and in the hair of its head.

I heard as follows from Abú Riḍá b. 'Abdu's-Salám of Níshápúr, in the Great Mosque at Níshápúr, in the year A.H. 510 (=A.D. 1116-1117):—“We were travelling towards Tamgháj,⁴

and in our caravan were several thousand camels. One day, when we were marching in the midday heat, we saw on a hillock a woman, bare-headed, extremely beautiful in form, with a figure like a cypress, a face like the moon, and long hair, standing and looking at us. Although I spoke to her, she made no reply; and when I approached her, she fled, running so swiftly in her flight that no horse could overtake her. Our guides,⁵

who were Turks, said that this was a wild man, such as they call nasnás.”

Now you must know that it is nobler than other animals in these three respects which have been mentioned.

So when, by lapse of long ages and time, organization waxes more delicate, the moment comes for that interaction which takes place between the elements and the heavens, and man comes into being, bringing with him all that existed in the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, to which is added the capacity for intellectual concepts. So he becomes king over all, and brings all things under his control. For from the mineral world he made jewels, gold and silver his embellishment and adornment, while from iron, tin, copper, and lead he fashioned utensils for his use. From the vegetable kingdom also he made his food and raiment and carpets; and from the animal world he provided himself with steeds and beasts of burden. Moreover, from all three kingdoms he chose out medicaments wherewith to heal himself. Whence did there accrue to him all this superiority? By this, that he knew himself, and, by means of intellectual concepts, knew God. “He who knoweth himself, knoweth his Lord.”

So this kingdom [of man] became divided into three classes. The first is that class which is proximate to the Animal Kingdom, such as the wild men of the waste and the mountain, whose intelligence doth not more than suffice to secure their own livelihood, seek their own advantage, and ward off what is to their detriment. The second class compriseth the inhabitants of towns and cities, who possess civilization, mutually assist one another, and discover crafts and arts; but whose scientific attainments are limited to the organizing of such association as subsists between them, to the end that the different classes¹

may continue to exist. The third class comprises such as are independent of these things, whose occupation, by night and by day, in secret and in public, is to reflect, “Who are we; for what reason did we come into existence, and who hath brought us into being?” In other words they hold debate concerning the real essences of things, reflect on their coming, and anxiously consider their departure, saying, “How have we come? Whither do we go?”

This class, again, is subdivided into two sorts; first, those who reach the essence of this object by means of masters, by laborious toil and absorption, and by reading and writing; and such are called philosophers. But there is yet another sort who, without master or book, reach the extreme limit of this problem, and these are called prophets.

Now, the peculiar virtues of the Prophet are three: first, that, without instruction, he knows all knowledges; secondly, that he gives information concerning yesterday and to-morrow otherwise than by analogical reasoning; and thirdly, that his soul hath such power that from whatever body he will he taketh the form and produceth another form, which thing none can do save such as are conformed to the Angelic World. Therefore in the Human World none is above him, and his command is effective for the well-being of the world; for whatever they have, he has, while possessing also an additional qualification which they have not, that is to say, communion with the Angelic World. This additional qualification is in brief termed the Prophetic Function, and is in detail such as we have explained.

Now, so long as such a man lives, he points out to his people what things conduce to well-being in both worlds, by the Command of God, glorious is His Name, communicated to him by means of the Angels. But when, by natural dissolution, he turns his face towards the other world, he leaves behind him a Code derived from the indications of God Almighty and his own sayings. And assuredly he requires to act as his substitute, and to maintain his Law and Practice, a vicegerent, who must needs be the most excellent of mankind and the most perfect product of his age, in order that he may revive this Law and carry out this Practice; and such an one is called an Imám. This Imám can cope with the disasters of the East and the West, the North and the South, in such wise that the effects of his care extend alike to the most remote and the nearest, while his command and prohibition reach alike the intelligent and the ignorant. But he must needs have vicars to act for him in distant parts of the world, and not every one of these will have such power that all mankind shall be compelled to admit it. Hence there must be a leader, an administrator, a compeller, which administrator and compeller is called a Monarch, that is to say, a King; and his vicarious function Sovereignty. The King, therefore, is the lieutenant of the Imám, the Imám of the Prophet, and the Prophet of God (mighty and glorious is He!).

Well has it been said on this subject:

◌

“Then know that the functions of Prophet and King
Are set side by side like two stones in one ring.”

Know, therefore, that the Regal and Prophetic offices are as two jewels in one ring, for the Prince of the sons of men himself hath said “State and Church are twins,” since in form and essence neither differs, either as regards increase or defect, from the other. So, by virtue of this decree, no burden, after the Prophetic office, is weightier than Sovereignty, nor any function more laborious than that of governing. Hence a king needs round about him, as men on whose counsel, judgement, and deliberations depend the loosing and binding of the world, and the well-being and ill-being of the servants of God Almighty, such as are in every case the most excellent and most perfect of their time.

Now of the special ministers of Kings are the Secretary, the Poet, the Astrologer, and the Physician, and these can in no wise be dispensed with. For the maintenance of the administration is by the Secretary; the perpetuation of immortal renown by the Poet; the ordering of affairs by the Astrologer; and the health of the body by the Physician. These four arduous functions and noble arts are amongst the branches of the Science of Philosophy; the functions of the Scribe and the Poet being branches of the Science of Logic; that of the Astrologer, one of the principal subdivisions of Mathematics; while the Physician's Art is amongst the branches of Natural Science. This book, therefore, comprises Four Discourses, to wit:—

First Discourse, on the essence of the Secretarial Art, and the nature of the Secretary.

Second Discourse, on the essence of the Poetic Art, and what it behoves the Poet to be.

Third Discourse, on the essence of the Science of Astrology, and the distinguishing signs of the Astrologer.

Fourth Discourse, on the essence of the Science of Medicine, and the function and nature of the Physician.

In all these divisions of Philosophy, then, that will be advanced which is appropriate to this book; and thereafter ten pleasing anecdotes, of the choicest connected with that subject and the rarest germane to that topic, of what hath befallen persons of the class under discussion, will be added, in order that it may become plainly known to the King that the Secretarial Office is not a trivial matter; that the Poetic Calling is no mean occupation; that Astrology is a necessary Science; that Medicine is indispensable; and that the wise King cannot do without these four persons— the Scribe, the Poet, the Astrologer, and the Physician.

The Secretarial Function is an art comprising reasoned modes of address and communication, and teaching the forms of address employed amongst men in correspondence, consultation, contention, eulogy, condemnation, diplomacy, provocation, and conciliation, as well as in magnifying matters or minimizing them; contriving means of excuse or censure; imposing covenants; recording antecedents; and displaying, in every case, orderly arrangement, so that all may be enunciated primarily and finally.¹

Hence the Secretary must be of gentle birth, of refined honour, of penetrating discernment, of profound reflection, and of firm judgement; and the amplest portion and fullest share of the methods and attainments of this art must be his. Neither must he be remote from, or unacquainted with, logical judgements; and he must know the ranks of his contemporaries, and be familiar with the dignities of the leading men of his time. Moreover, he should not be absorbed in the wealth and perishable goods of this world; nor concern himself with the approval or condemnation of prejudiced persons and tattlers, or pay any heed to them; and he should, when exercising his secretarial functions, guard the honour of his master from degrading situations and dangerous practices. And in the course of his letter, while pursuing his duties of correspondence, he should not quarrel with eminent and powerful personages; and, even though enmity subsist between his master and the person whom he is addressing, he should restrain his pen, and not attack him, save in the case of one who may have overstepped his own proper limit, or advanced his foot beyond the circle of respect, for they say: “One for one,²

and he who begins is most in the wrong.”

And in his forms of address he should observe moderation, writing to each person that which befits his position, whereunto his kingdom, domain, army, and treasure are a guide; save in the case of one who may himself have fallen short in this matter, or made display of undue pride, or neglected some point of courtesy, or manifested an arrogance which reason cannot regard otherwise than as misplaced in such correspondence, and unsuitable in epistolary communications. In such cases it is permitted and allowed to the Scribe to take up his pen, set his best foot forward, and in this pass go to the extreme limit and utmost bound, for they say: “Haughtiness towards the haughty is a good work.”¹

But in no case must he suffer any dust from the atmosphere of conflict in this arena of correspondence to alight on the skirt of his master's honour; and in the setting forth of his message he must adopt that method which the orators of the Arabs have thus described: “The best speech is that which is brief and significant, and not wearisome.”²

For if the ideas accord not with the words, the discussion will be protracted, and the Scribe will be stigmatized as prolix, and “He who is prolix is a babbler.”³

Now the words of the Scribe will not attain to this elevation until he becomes familiar with every science, obtains some hint from every master, hears some aphorism from every philosopher, and borrows some elegance from every man of letters. Therefore he must accustom himself to peruse the Scripture of the Lord of Glory, the Traditions of Muḥammad the Chosen One (on whom, and on whose family, be God's blessing and peace), the Memoirs of the Companions, the proverbial sayings of the Arabs, and the wise words of the Persians; and to read the books of the ancients, and to study the writings of their successors, such as the Correspondence of the Ṣáḥib Isma'íl ibn 'Abbád⁴

and Ṣábí; the Qábús-náma⁵;

the compositions of Ḥamádí, Laqání, and Ibn Qudáma⁶;

the Gests of Badí'u'z-Zamán al-Hamadání,¹

al-Ḥarírí,¹

and al-Ḥamídí²;

the Rescripts of al-Bal'amí,³

Aḥmad-i-Ḥasan,⁴

and Abú Naṣr Kundurí⁵;

the Letters of Muḥammad 'Abd, 'Abdu'l-Ḥamíd, and the Sayyidu'r-Ru'asá; the Séances of Muḥammad-i-Manṣúr,⁶

Ibn 'Abbádí,⁷

and Ibnu'n-Nassába, the descendant of 'Alí; and, of the poetical works of the Arabs, the Díwáns of Mutanabbí,⁸

Abíwardí,⁹

and Ghazzí¹⁰;

and, amongst the Persian poets, the poems of Ḥakím Rúdagí,¹¹

the Epic of Firdawsí,¹²

and the panegyrics of 'Unṣurí¹³;

since each one of these works which we have enumerated was, after its kind, the incomparable and unique product of its time; and every scribe who hath these books, and stimulates his mind, polishes his wit, and enkindles his fancy by their perusal, will ever raise the level of his diction, whereby a scribe becomes famous.

Now if he be well acquainted with the Qur'án, with one verse therefrom he may discharge his obligation to a whole realm, as did Iskáfí.¹⁴

Iskáfí was one of the secretaries of the House of Sámán, and knew his craft right well, so that he could cunningly traverse all obstacles, and emerge triumphant from the most difficult passes. He discharged the duties of secretary in the Chancellery of Núḥ b. Manṣúr,¹

but they did not properly recognize his worth, or bestow on him favours adequate to his pre-eminence. He therefore fled from Bukhárá to Alptagín at Herát. Alptagín, a Turk, wise and discerning, made much of him, and confided to him the Chancellery, so that at length he became one of his ministers. Now because there had sprung up at the court a new nobility who made light of the old nobles, while Alptagín patiently bore their presumption, matters at last culminated in rebellion, by reason of some slight put upon him. Then Amír Núḥ, incited by a party of the new nobles, wrote from Bukhárá to Zábulistán that Sabuktagín should come with that army, and the sons of Simjúr²

with their army from Níshápúr, and should make war on Alptagín. And this war is very celebrated, and the event most notorious.

So when these armies reached Herát, the Amír 'Alí b. Muḥtáj³

sent Kisá'í,⁴

who was the Chief Chamberlain (Ṣáḥibu'l-Báb), to Alptagín, with a letter like fire and water blended together, containing threats and menaces which left no room for peace and no way for conciliation, such as an angry master might write in his absence to his disobedient servants, the whole letter filled with such expressions as “I will come,” “I will take,” “I will bind,” “I will strike,” “I will slay.” When the Chamberlain Abu'l-Ḥasan Kisá'í submitted this letter and delivered the message, not withholding aught, Alptagín, who was already vexed, grew more vexed, and broke out in anger, saying: “I was his father's servant, but when my master passed from this transitory to that eternal abode, he entrusted him to me, not me to him. Although, to outward seeming, I should obey him, it is in fact quite otherwise, for when you examine this matter, a contrary conclusion results, seeing that I am in the last stages of old age, and he in the first stages of youth. Those who have impelled him to act thus are destroyers of this Dynasty, not counsellors, and are overthrowers of this house, not supporters.”

Then he asked of Iskáfí, “How wilt thou answer this letter?” Iskáfí, on the spur of the moment, wrote the first draft of the answer as follows:—

“In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Clement. O Núḥ, thou hast contended with us and made great the contention with us. Produce, then, that wherewith thou threatenest us, if thou art of those who speak truly.”¹

When this letter reached Núḥ b. Manṣúr, the Amír of Khurásán, he read it, and was astonished; and all the gentlemen of the court were filled with amaze, and the scribes bit their fingers in wonder. And when the affair of Alptagín was disposed of, Iskáfí fled away privily, for he was fearful and terrified; until suddenly Núḥ sent a messenger to him to summon him to his presence, and conferred on him the post of Secretary. So his affairs prospered, and he became conspicuous and famous amongst the votaries of the Pen. Had he not known the Qur'án, he would not thus have distinguished himself on this occasion, nor would his position have risen from the station he occupied to this high degree.

When Iskáfí's affairs waxed thus prosperous, and he became established in the service of Núḥ b. Manṣúr, Mákán the son of Kákí¹

rebelled at Ray and in Kúhistán, withdrew his neck from the yoke of obedience, sent his agents to Khwár, Samnán and Simnak, captured several of the towns of Kúmish,²

and paid no heed to the Sámánids. Núḥ b. Manṣúr was afraid, because this was a formidable and able man, and set himself to deal with this matter. He therefore ordered Tásh, the commander-in-chief, to march against him with seven thousand horsemen, suppress this sedition, and put an end to this grave incident in whatever way he deemed most expedient.

Now Tásh was very wise and clear in judgement, emerging swiftly and skilfully from the straitest passes; and he was also victorious in warfare, and had never turned back in defeat from any one of the countless battles he had waged, nor come forth worsted from any campaign. While he lived, the dominion and authority of the House of Sámán enjoyed the greatest brilliancy and prosperity.

On this occasion, then, the Amír, being much preoccupied and distressed, sent a messenger to summon Iskáfí, and held a private interview with him. “I am greatly troubled,” said he, “by this occurrence; for Mákán is a brave man, and an able, and hath, in addition to his bravery and courage, administrative capacity and generosity, so that there have been few like him amongst the Daylamís. You must co-operate with Tásh, and whatever he lacks for the raising of an army at this juncture, you must supply. And I will establish myself at Níshápúr, so that the army may be supported from the base, and the foeman discouraged. Every day a swift messenger must come from you to me with dispatches, wherein you must set forth the pith of what may have happened, so that my anxieties may be assuaged.” Iskáfí bowed and said, “I will obey.”

So next day Tásh unfurled his standard, sounded his drums, and set out for the front from Bukhárá, crossing the Oxus with seven thousand horsemen; while the Amír followed him with the remainder of the army to Níshápúr. There he invested Tásh and the army with robes of honour; and Tásh, raising his standard, marched into Bayhaq, whence he marched forwards into Kúmish to confront the enemy, with fixed purpose and in the best of spirits.

Meanwhile Mákán, with ten thousand mailed men, was encamped at the gates of Ray, where he had taken up his position. Tásh arrived, passed by the city, and encamped over against him. Then messengers passed to and fro between them, but no settlement was effected, for Mákán was puffed up with pride on account of that formidable army which he had gathered together from every quarter. It was therefore decided that they should join battle.

Now Tásh was an aged warrior, who for forty years had held the position of commander-in-chief, and had witnessed many such engagements; and he so manœuvred that when the two armies met, and the doughty warriors and champions of Transoxania and Khurásán moved forward from the centre, only half of Mákán's army was engaged, while the rest were not fighting. Mákán was slain, and Tásh, when he had ceased from taking and binding and slaying, turned to Iskáfí and said, “A carrier-pigeon must be sent in advance, to be followed later by a courier: but all the main features of the battle must be summed up in one sentence, which shall indicate all the circumstances, yet shall not exceed what a pigeon can carry, and shall adequately express our meaning.”

Then Iskáfí took so much paper as two fingers would cover and wrote:—“In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Clement. As for Mákán, he hath become as his name”¹

[Má kán = “He hath not been” in Arabic]. By this “má” he intended the negative, and by “kán,” the verb substantive, so that the Persian of it would be, “Mákán hath become like his name,” that is to say, hath become nothing.

When the carrier-pigeon reached the Amír Núḥ, he was not more delighted at the victory than at this dispatch, and he ordered Iskáfí's salary to be increased, saying: “Such a person must maintain a heart free from care in order to attain to such delicacies of expression.”²

One who pursues any craft which depends on reflection ought to be free from care and anxiety, for if it be otherwise, the arrows of his thought will fly wide and will not hit the target of achievement, since only by a tranquil mind can one arrive at such words.

It is related that a certain Secretary of the 'Abbásid Caliphs was writing a letter to the governor of Egypt; and, his mind being tranquil and himself submerged in the ocean of reflection, was forming sentences precious as pearls of great price and fluent as running water. Suddenly his maidservant entered, saying, “There is no flour left.” The scribe was so put out and disturbed in mind that he lost the thread of his diction, and was so affected that he wrote in the letter “There is no flour left.” When he had finished it, he sent it to the Caliph, having no knowledge of these words which he had written.

When the letter reached the Caliph, and he read it, and saw this sentence, he was greatly astonished, being unable to account for so strange an occurrence. So he sent a messenger to summon the scribe, and enquired of him concerning this. The scribe was covered with shame, and gave the true explanation of the matter. The Caliph was mightily astonished and said: “The beginning of this letter excels the latter part by as much as the súra ‘Say, He is God, the One’¹

excels the súra ‘The hands of Abú Lahab shall perish,’²

and it is a pity to surrender the minds of eloquent men like you into the hands of the struggle for the necessaries of life.” Then he ordered him to be given means sufficiently ample to prevent such an announcement as this from ever entering his ears again. Naturally it then happened that he could compress into two sentences the ideas of two worlds.

The Ṣáḥib Isma'íl ibn 'Abbád,³

entitled al-Káfí (“the Competent”), of Ray,⁴

was minister to the Sháhansháh. He was most perfect in his accomplishments, of which fact his correspondence and his poetry are two sufficient witnesses and unimpeachable arbiters.

Now the Ṣáḥib was a man of just dealings, and such are wont to be extremely pious and scrupulous in their religious duties, not holding it right that a true believer should abide eternally in hell by reason of a grain of [righteous] enmity; and his servants and retainers and agents for the most part followed his example.

Now there was at Qum a judge appointed by the Ṣáḥib in whose godliness and piety he had the firmest belief, though there were some who asserted the contrary, and brought information against him, which, however, left the Ṣáḥib unconvinced, until certain trustworthy persons of Qum, whose statements commanded credence, declared that in a certain suit between So-and-so and Such-an-one this judge had accepted a bribe of five hundred túmáns. This was mightily displeasing to the Ṣáḥib for two reasons, first on account of the greatness of the bribe, and secondly on account of the shameless unscrupulousness of the judge. He at once took up his pen and wrote:—

“In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Clement. O Judge of Qum! We dismiss you, so Come!”¹

Scholars and rhetoricians will notice and appreciate the high merit of this sentence in respect of its brevity, concision, and clearness, and naturally from that time forth rhetoricians and stylists have inscribed this epigram on their hearts, and repeat it to the people of the world.

Lamghán²

is a city in the district of Sind, one of the dependencies of Ghazna; and at this present time naught but one range of mountains separates its inhabitants from the heathen, so that they live in constant dread of the attacks and raids of the unbelievers. Yet the men of Lamghán are of good courage, sharp and frugal, and combining with their sharpness no small rascality,³

to such a degree that they think nothing of lodging a complaint against a tax-gatherer on account of a maund of chaff or a single egg; while for even less than this they were ready to come to Ghazna to complain of exactions, and would remain there one or two months, and then return without having accomplished their object. In short, they are wonderful hands at patience, and are most stiffnecked in importunity.

Now in the reign of Sulṭán Maḥmúd Yamínu'd-Dawla, the heathen one night attacked them, and damage of every sort befel them. But these were men who could raise a harvest without soil; and when this event happened several of their chiefs and men of note rose up and came to Ghazna, and, with their garments rent, their heads uncovered, and uttering loud lamentations, entered the bazaar of Ghazna, went to the King's Palace wailing and grieving, and so described their misfortune that even a stone would have been moved to tears. As their rascality, impudence, dissimulation, and cunning had not yet become apparent, that great minister, Aḥmad Ḥasan of Maymand,¹

took pity upon them, and forgave them that year's taxes, exempting them from all exactions, and bidding them return home, strive more strenuously, and spend less, so that by the beginning of the next year they might recover their former position.

So the deputation of Lamghánís returned with great contentment and huge satisfaction, and continued during that year in the easiest of circumstances, divulging their secret to no one.²

When the year came to an end, the same deputation returned to present another petition to the minister, simply setting forth that in the past year their lord the great minister had brightened their country by his grace and clemency and had effectively extended to them his protection, so that they were now able to dwell in peace on that border; but that, since their prosperity was still somewhat shaken, they feared that, should he demand the contribution on their possessions that year, some of them would be utterly ruined, and that, as a consequence of this, loss might accrue to the royal coffers.

The minister, therefore, extending his favour, excused them the taxes of yet another year. During these two years the people of Lamghán grew rich, but this did not suffice them, for in the third year their greed reasserted itself, and, hoping again to be excused, the same deputation again appeared at Court and made a similar representation. Then it became apparent to all the world that the people of Lamghán were in the wrong. So the minister turned the petition over and wrote on the back of it: “Al-kharáju khuráj^un, adá'uhu dauá'uhu,” that is to say, “The tax is a running sore: its cure is its discharge.” And from the time of this great statesman this saying has become proverbial, and has proved useful in many cases. May the earth rest lightly on this great man!

There were great statesmen under the 'Abbásid dynasty, and indeed the history of the Barmecides is well known and famous, and to what extent were their gifts and rewards. [Ibn] Sahl, called Dhu'r-Riyásatayn¹

(“the lord of two commands”), and his brother Faḍl were exalted above the very heavens, so much so that Ma'mún espoused Faḍl's daughter and asked her in marriage. Now she was a damsel peerless in beauty and unrivalled in attainments; and it was agreed that Ma'mún should go to the bride's house and remain there for a month, and after the lapse of this period return home with the bride. On the day fixed for their departure he desired, as is customary, to array himself in better clothes. Now Ma'mún always wore black; and people supposed that he wore it because black was the distinctive colour of the 'Abbásids; till one day Yaḥyá b. Aktham²

inquired of him, “Why is it that the Prince of Believers prefers black garments?” Ma'mún replied to the Judge: “Black garments are for man and for the living; for no woman is married in black, nor is any dead man buried in black.” Yaḥyá was greatly surprised by this answer. So on this day Ma'mún desired to inspect the wardrobe; but of a thousand coats of satin, of royal fabric, of fur, hand-woven, of various colours, hand-cut, of fine black silk,¹

he neither approved nor accepted one, but clad himself in his customary black, and mounted, and turned his face towards the bride's house. Now on that day Faḍl had decked out his palace in such wise that the nobles were filled with wonder thereat, for he had collected so many rare things that words would fail to describe or enumerate them. So when Ma'mún reached the gate of this palace, he saw a curtain suspended, fairer than a Chinese spring, and more delightful than the assurance of faith, whereof the design charmed the heart and the colour mingled with the soul; and he said to himself: “Whichever of those thousand coats I had chosen, I should have been shamed here. Praise be to God and thanks that I was content with this black raiment.”

Now of all the elaborate preparations made by Faḍl on that day, one was this, that when Ma'mún reached the middle of the palace yard, he saw a tray filled with wax, round which was arranged a pattern of pearls.²

And at the feet of each guest were cast several nuts, in each of which was a piece of paper whereon was inscribed the name of a village; and whoever drew one, to him were delivered the title-deeds of that village.

So when Ma'mún entered the bride's house, he saw a mansion faced with gypsum and adorned with paintings,³

strewn with perfumes of China, fairer than the East at the time of sunrise, and sweeter than a garden in the season of the rose. He saw, moreover, cast down and spread out at the entrance of the house, mats of cloth of gold,¹

embroidered with rubies, pearls, and turquoises; and in like manner six cushions placed thereon, on which was seated a beauteous damsel sweeter than existence and life, and pleasanter than health and youth; in stature such that the noble cypress would have subscribed itself her servant; with cheeks which the brightest sun would have acknowledged as suzerain; with hair which was the envy of musk and ambergris; and with eyes after the likeness of the onyx and the narcissus.²

She, rising to her feet, advanced towards Ma'mún, with a profound obeisance and earnest apologies, brought him forward and seated him in the chief seat, and stood before him in service. Ma'mún bade her be seated, whereupon she seated herself on her knees,³

hanging her head and looking down at the carpet. Thereupon Ma'mún was overcome with love: he had already lost his heart, and now he would have added thereunto his very soul. He stretched out his hand and drew forth from the pocket of his coat eighteen pearls, each one as large as a sparrow's egg, brighter than the stars of heaven, more lustrous than the teeth of the fair, rounder, nay, more luminous, than Jupiter or Saturn. These rolled on the surface of the carpet, and, by reason of its smoothness and their roundness, continued in motion, there being no cause for their quiescence. But the girl paid no heed to the pearls, nor so much as raised her head. Thereat was Ma'mún's passion further increased, and he extended his hand to caress her, and would have opened the door of amorous dalliance. But this caress aroused her modesty and covered her with confusion, and the delicate damsel was so affected that she was overtaken by that state peculiar to women, and the marks of shame and abashed modesty appeared in her cheeks and countenance, and she suddenly exclaimed: “O Prince of Believers! The command of God cometh, seek not then to hasten it!”¹

Thereat Ma'mún withdrew his hand, and was near swooning on account of the extreme beauty of this citation, and her graceful application of it. Yet still he could not take his eyes off her, and for eighteen days he came not forth from this house and concerned himself with naught save two occupations. And the affairs of Faḍl prospered, and he attained to that high position to which he attained.

Again in the time of the 'Abbásid Caliphs, in the reign of al-Mustarshid bi'lláh²

(may God make his tomb fragrant and exalt his rank in Paradise!), the son of al-Mustadhhir bi'lláh, the Prince of Believers came forth from the city of Baghdad with a well-equipped army in full panoply, and much treasure, and many muniments of war, marching against Khurásán, on account of a reparation which he would exact from the King of the World Sanjar.³

Now this quarrel had been contrived by interested persons, and was due to the machinations and representations of conspirators, who had brought matters to this pass. When the Caliph reached Kirmánsháh, he there delivered on a Friday a homily which in eloquence transcended the highest zenith of the sun, and reached the support and crown of the guard-stars.¹

In the course of this harangue, after expressing his distress and despair, he complained of the House of Seljúq, in such wise that the orators of Arabia and the rhetoricians of Persia have confessed that, after the companions of the Prophet (God's blessing and peace rest on him and his family), who were the disciples of the Focus of the Prophetic Function and the expounders of his pithy aphorisms, no one had composed a discourse so weighty and eloquent. Said al-Mustarshid: “We entrusted our affairs to the House of Seljúq, but they contended against us, and the time lengthened over them, and their hearts were hardened, and many of them sinned,”²

that is to say, withdrew their necks from our commands in the Religion of Islám.

The Gúr Khán of Khitá fought a battle with the King of the World Sanjar, the son of Maliksháh, at the gates of Samarqand, and so fateful was the day to the army of Islám that Transoxania passed into his power.³

After putting to death the Imám of the East Ḥusámu'd-Dín (may God make bright his example, and extend over him His Peace!), the Gúr Khán bestowed Bukhárá on Alptagín.⁴

When the Gúr Khán turned back, he entrusted the son of the Amír Bayánání,⁵

the nephew of Atsiz Khwárazmsháh, to the Imám Aḥmad b. 'Abdu'l-'Azíz, who was the Imám of Bukhárá, and the leading man of his time,¹

so that whatever he did he might do by his advice, and that he should not take any step without his instructions. Then the Gúr Khán turned back and retired to Bars-ján.²

Now his justice had no bounds, nor was there any limit to the effectiveness of his commands, and, indeed, in these two things lies the essence of kingship. But when Alptagín saw a clear field, he turned his hand to oppression, and began to levy contributions on Bukhárá. So several of the people of Bukhárá went as an embassy to the Gúr Khán³

to seek redress. The Gúr Khán, after the way of good Muslims, wrote a letter in Persian to Alptagín as follows:—

“In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Clement. Let Alptagín know that, although wide distance separates us, our approval and displeasure are near at hand. Let Alptagín do that which Aḥmad commands, and Aḥmad that which Muḥammad commands. Farewell.”

Again and again we have considered this and reflected on it. A thousand volumes or even more might be written to enlarge on this letter, yet its purport is extremely plain and clear, needing no explanation. Seldom have I seen anything like it.

The extreme eloquence of the Qur'án is in its concision of words and marvellous presentation of ideas; imitation thereof results but in citation, to such a degree that a sense of awe is produced, and the wise and understanding man is converted from his state [of doubt]. And this is a clear proof and trenchant argument to establish the fact that this Word did not proceed from the mouth of any created being, nor issue from any human lips or tongue, but that the stamp of Eternity is the stigma of its prescriptions and sentences.

It is related that one day one of the Muslims was reciting before Walíd b. Mughíra this verse:—“And it was said, ‘O Earth, gulp down thy waters, and O Heaven, draw them up’: and the water abated. Thus was the matter effected. And it [i.e. the Ark] rested upon Mount Júdí.”¹

“By God,” said Walíd b. Mughíra, “verily it hath beauty and sweetness, and verily at its highest it is terrible as a wild beast in fury, and at its lowest is as the deepest mine!”²

When even enemies reached such a level of enthusiasm, by reason of the eloquence of the Qur'án and its incomparable height in the domain of religion and equity, to what degree must friends attain?

In former times it was customary with the kings and tyrants of the world, such as the Píshdádí, Kayání, and Sásánian monarchs and the Caliphs, to vaunt themselves and compete with one another in justice and accomplishments, and with every ambassador whom they despatched they used to send wise sayings, riddles, and enigmatical questions. So the king, under these circumstances, stood in need of persons of intelligence and discrimination, and men of judgment and statesmanship; and several councils would be held and adjourned, until they were unanimous as to their answers, and when the inner meanings of these problems and enigmas were plain and apparent, then they would despatch the ambassador.

This practice was maintained until the time of Maḥmúd b. Sabuktagín Yamínu'd-Dawla (may God have mercy upon him!). One day he despatched an ambassador to Bughrá Khán in Transoxania, and in the letter which had been drafted occurred this passage:—“God Almighty saith, ‘Verily the most honourable of you in God's sight is he who is most pious of you.’¹

The acute and critical are agreed that here he [i.e. the Prophet] guards himself from ignorance; for the souls of men are subject to no more grievous defect than this, nor is there aught lower than the fault of folly. To the truth of this proposition and the soundness of this assertion God's Word also bears witness: ‘[God will raise up those of you who believe] and those to whom knowledge hath been given to [superior] degrees.’²

Therefore we desire that the Imáms of the land of Transoxania and the doctors of the East and scholars of the Kháqán's Court should give so much information touching essentials as to state what the Prophetic Office is, what Saintship, what Religion, what Islám, what Faith, what Well-doing, what Godliness, what the Approbation of Right, what the Prohibition of Wrong, what the Path, what the Balance, what Justice, and what Pity.”

When this letter reached the Court of Bughrá Khán,³

and he had acquainted himself with its purport and contents, he summoned the Imáms of Transoxania from the different towns and districts, informed them of the matter, and requested them to answer these words, bidding each one compose a treatise on this subject, and introduce in the course of their dissertation and argument a reply to these interrogations. They craved a delay of four months; which period dragged on with all sorts of detriments, the least of which was the disbursements from the treasury for the salaries of the ambassadors and the maintenance of the Imáms, until at length Muḥammad b. 'Abdu'lláh the scribe, who was Bughrá Khán's private secretary, and was deeply versed in learning and highly distinguished in scholarship, besides being one of the most eloquent stylists amongst the Muslims both in prose and verse, said: “I will answer these questions in two words, in such wise that when the greatest scholars and most conspicuous men of al-Islám shall see my answer, it shall command their approval and admiration.” So he took up his pen and wrote under the questions, after the fashion of a legal decision (fatwá): “Saith God's Apostle (upon whom be the Blessing of God, and also on his Family), ‘Reverence for God's command and loving-kindness towards God's people.’” All the Imáms of Transoxania bit their fingers in amazement and expressed their admiration, saying, “Here indeed is an answer which is perfect, and an utterance which is comprehensive!” And the Kháqán was mightily pleased because the difficulty had been overcome by a scribe and not left to the divines. And when the answer reached Ghazna, all applauded it.

It therefore results from these premises that an intelligent and accomplished Secretary is a great ornament to the brilliancy of a King's Court. And with this anecdote we conclude this chapter. And from God cometh assistance.

Poetry is that art whereby the poet arranges imaginary propositions, and adapts the deductions, with the result that he can make a little thing appear great and a great thing small, or cause good to appear in the garb of evil and evil in the garb of good. By acting on the imagination, he excites the faculties of anger and concupiscence in such a way that by his suggestion men's temperaments become affected with exultation or depression; whereby he conduces to the accomplishment of great things in the order of the world.

Thus they relate that Aḥmad b. 'Abdu'lláh al-Khujistání¹

was asked, “How didst thou, who wert originally an ass-herd, become Amír of Khurásán?” He replied: “One day I was reading the Díván of Ḥandhala of Bádghís,²

in Bádghís of Khujistán, when I chanced on these two couplets:—

◌

‘If lordship lies within the lion's jaws,
Go, risk it, and from those dread portals seize
Such straight-confronting death as men desire,
Or riches, greatness, rank and lasting ease.’

An impulse stirred within me such that I could in no wise remain content with that condition wherein I was. I therefore sold my asses, bought a horse, and, quitting my country, entered the service of 'Amr b. Layth.³

At that time the fortune of the Ṣaffárís still floated at the zenith of its prosperity. Of the three brothers, 'Alí was the youngest, and Ya'qúb and 'Amr had precedence over him. When Ya'qúb came from Khurásán to Ghazna over the mountains, 'Alí b. Layth sent me back from Ribáṭ-i-Sangín (“the Stone Rest-house”) to act as his agent to his feudal estates in Khurásán. I had collected an army of a hundred on the road, and had with me besides some twenty horsemen of my own. Now of the estates held in fief by 'Alí b. Layth one was Karúkh¹

of Herát, a second Khán-i-Níshápúr. When I reached Karúkh, I produced my warrant, and what was paid to me I divided amongst the army and gave to the soldiers. My horsemen now numbered three hundred. When I reached Khwáf,²

and again produced my warrant, the burghers of Khwáf contested it, saying, ‘Do we want a magistrate with [a bodyguard of only] ten men?’³

I thereupon decided to renounce my allegiance to the Ṣaffárís, looted Khwáf, proceeded to the village of Yashb,⁴

and came to Bayhaq, where two⁵

thousand horsemen joined me. I advanced and took Níshápúr, and my affairs prospered and improved until all Khurásán lay open to me, and I took possession of it for myself. Of all this, these two verses of poetry were the cause.”

Salámí⁶

relates in his history that the affairs of Aḥmad b. 'Abdu'lláh prospered so greatly that in one night at Níshápúr he distributed in largesse 300,000 dínárs, 500 head of horses, and 1,000 suits of clothes, and to-day he stands in history as one of the victorious monarchs, all of which was brought about by these two couplets of poetry. Many similar instances are to be found amongst both the Arabs and the Persians, but we have restricted ourselves to the mention of this one. So a king cannot dispense with a good poet, who shall conduce to the immortality of his name, and shall record his fame in díwáns and books. For when the king receives that command which none can escape,¹

no trace will remain of his army, his treasure, and his store; but his name will endure for ever by reason of the poet's verse, as Sharíf-i-Mujallidí of Gurgán says:—²

◌

“From all the treasures hoarded by the Houses
Of Sásán and of Sámán, in our days
Nothing survives except the song of Bárbad,
Nothing is left save Rúdagí's sweet lays.”

The names of the monarchs of the age and the princes of the time are perpetuated by the admirable verse and widely-current poems of this guild; as, for instance, the names of the House of Sámán by Ustád Abú 'Abdi'lláh Ja'far b. Muḥammad ar-Rúdakí,³

Abu'l-'Abbás b. 'Abbás⁴

az-Zanjí, Abu'l-Mathal⁵

al-Bukhárí, Abú Isḥaq Júybárí,⁶

Abu'l-Ḥasan al-'Ají,⁷

and Ṭaháwí, and Khabbází⁸

of Níshápúr, and Abu'l-Ḥasan al-Kisá'í⁹;

and the names of the kings of the House of Náṣiru'd-Dín [i.e. the Ghaz-navids] by such men as 'Unṣurí, 'Asjadí, Farrukhí,¹

Bahrámí,²

Zaynatí,³

Buzurjmihr of Qá'in,⁴

Mudhaffar,⁵

Manshúrí,⁶

Manúchihrí,⁷

Mas'údí,⁸

Qasárámí,⁹

Abú Ḥanífa Iskáf (“the Cobbler”),¹⁰

Ráshidí, Abu'l-Faraj of Rúna,¹¹

Mas'úd-i-Sa'd-i-Salmán,¹²

Muḥammad Abú Naṣr,¹³

Sháh Abú Rijá,¹⁴

Aḥmad Khalaf, 'Uthmán Mukhtárí,¹⁵

and Saná'í¹⁶;

and the names of the House of Kháqán through Lúlú'í, Gulábí, Najíbí,¹⁷

Farkhárí,¹⁸

'Am'aq of Bukhárá,¹⁹

Rashídí of Samarqand,²⁰

Najjár (“the Carpenter”)²¹

-i-Ságharjí, 'Alí Pánídí,²²

the son of Darghúsh,²³

'Alí Sipihrí,¹

Jawharí,²

Sa'dí, the son of Tísha,³

and 'Alí Shaṭranjí (“the Chess-player”)⁴;

and the names of the House of Seljúq by Farrukhí, Karkhání, Lámi'í of Dahistán,⁵

Ja'far of Hamadán, Fírúzí-i-Fakhrí,⁶

Burhání,⁷

Amír Mu'izzí, Abu'l-Ma'álí of Ray,⁸

'Amíd Kamálí,⁹

and Shihábí¹⁰;

and the names of the rulers of Ṭabaristán through Qumrí of Gurgán,¹¹

Ráfi'í of Níshápúr,¹²

Kafáyatí¹³

of Ganja, Kúsa Fálí, and Búrkala¹⁴;

and the names of the kings of Ghúr, the House of Shansab (may God cause their rule to endure for ever!), through Abu'l-Qásim Rafí'í, Abú Bakr Jawharí, this least of mankind Nidhámí-i-'Arúḍí, and 'Alí Ṣúfí. The díwáns of these poets are eloquent as to the excellence, comeliness, munitions and forces [of war], justice, bounty, worth, nobility, doughty deeds, judgement, statecraft, heaven-sent success and influence of these former kings, of whom to-day no trace remains, nor of their hosts and retinues any survivor. How many nobles there were under these dynasties who enjoyed the favours of kings, and dispensed untold largesses to these poets, and conferred on them sources of income, of whom to-day no trace remains; though many were the painted palaces and charming gardens which they created and embellished, but which to-day are levelled with the ground and uniform with the deserts and ravines! Says the author:—

◌

“How many a palace did great Mahmúd raise,
At whose tall towers the Moon did stand at gaze,
Whereof one brick remaineth not in place,
Though still re-echo 'Unṣurí's sweet lays.”

When the Monarch of the World Sulṭán 'Alá'u'dunyá wa'd-Dín Abú 'Alí al-Ḥusayn b. al-Ḥusayn, the Choice of the Prince of Believers (may his life be long, and the umbrella of his dynasty victorious!) marched on Ghazna to avenge those two martyred kings and laudable monarchs,¹

whom Sulṭán Bahrámsháh had previously put to death after the fashion of common thieves, treating them with every indignity, and speaking lightly of them,²

he sacked Ghazna, and destroyed the buildings raised by Maḥmúd, Mas'úd, and Ibráhím, but he bought with gold the poems written in their praise, and placed them in his library. In that army and in that city none dared call them king, yet he himself would read that Sháhnáma wherein Firdawsí says:—

◌

“Of the child in its cot, ere its lips yet are dry
From the milk of its mother, ‘Maḥmúd!’ is the cry!
Maḥmúd, the Great King, who such order doth keep
That in peace from one pool drink the wolf and the sheep!”

All wise men know that herein was no reverence for Maḥmúd, but only admiration for Firdawsí and his verse. Had Maḥmúd understood this, he would probably not have left that noble man disappointed and despairing.

Now the poet must be of tender temperament, profound in thought, sound in genius, clear of vision, quick of insight. He must be well versed in many divers sciences, and quick to extract what is best from his environment; for as poetry is of advantage in every science, so is every science of advantage in poetry. And the poet must be of pleasing conversation in social gatherings, of cheerful countenance on festive occasions; and his verse must have attained to such a level that it is written on the page of Time and celebrated on the lips and tongues of the noble, and be such that they transcribe it in books and recite it in cities. For the richest portion and most excellent part of poetry is immortal fame, and until it be thus confirmed and published it is ineffectual to this end, and this result cannot accrue from it; it will not survive its author, and, being ineffectual for the immortalizing of his name, how can it confer immortality on another?

But to this rank a poet cannot attain unless in the prime of his life and the season of his youth he commits to memory 20,000 couplets of the poetry of the Ancients and 10,000 verses of the works of the Moderns, holds them constantly before his eyes, and continually reads and marks the díwáns of the masters of his art, observing how they have acquitted themselves in the strait passes and delicate places of song, in order that thus the fashion and varieties of verse may become ingrained in his nature, and the defects and beauties of poetry may be inscribed on the tablet of his understanding. In this way his style will improve and his genius will develop. Then, when his taste has been formed by wide reading of poetry, and his style of expression is thus strengthened, let him address himself seriously to the poetic art, study the science of Prosody, and peruse the works of Master Abu'l-Ḥasan Bahrámí of Sarakhs, such as the “Goal of Prosodists” (Gháyatu'l-'Arúḍiyyín), the “Thesaurus of Rhyme” (Kanzu'l-Qáfiya), and the works treating of poetic ideas and phraseology, plagiarisms, biographies, and all the sciences of this class, with such a master as he deemeth best, that thus he in turn may come to merit the title of Master, that his name may remain on the page of time like the names of those other Masters which we have mentioned, and that he may be able to discharge his debt to his patron and lord for what he obtains from him, so that his name may endure for ever.

Now it behoves the King to patronize such a person, so that he may remain in his service and celebrate his praise. But if he fall below this level, he should waste no money on him and pay no heed to his poetry, especially if he be old; for I have investigated this matter, and in the whole world have found nothing worse than an old poet, nor any money more ill spent than what is given to such. For one so ignoble as not to have discovered in fifty years that what he writes is bad, when will he discover it? But if he be young and has the right talent, even though his verse be not good, there is some hope that it may improve, and according to the Law of Chivalry it is proper to patronize him, a duty to take care of him, and an obligation to maintain him.

Now in the service of kings naught is better than improvisation, for thereby the king's mood is cheered, his receptions are made brilliant, and the poet himself attains his object. Such favours as Rúdagí obtained from the House of Sámán by his improvisations and by virtue of his verse, none other hath experienced.

They relate thus, that Naṣr b. Aḥmad, who was the central point of the Sámánid group, whose fortunes reached their zenith during the days of his rule, was most plenteously equipped with every means of enjoyment and material of splendour—well-filled treasuries, an efficient army, and loyal servants. In winter he used to reside at Bukhárá, his capital, while in summer he used to go to Samarqand or some other of the cities of Khurásán. Now one year it was the turn of Herát. He spent the spring at Bádghís, where are the most charming pasture-grounds of Khurásán and 'Iráq, for there are nearly a thousand watercourses abounding in water and pasture, any one of which would suffice for an army.

When the beasts had well eaten, and had regained their strength and condition, and were fit for warfare or to take the field, Naṣr b. Aḥmad turned his face towards Herát, but halted outside the city of Marghazár-i-Sapíd and there pitched his camp. Cool breezes from the north were stirring, and the fruit was ripening in the districts of Málin and Karúkh¹

—fruit which can be obtained in but few places, and nowhere so cheaply. There the army rested. The climate was charming, the breeze cool, food plentiful, fruit abundant, and the air filled with fragrant scents, so that the soldiers enjoyed their life to the full during the spring and summer.

When Mihrgán¹

arrived, and the juice of the grape came into season, and the eglantine, basil, and yellow rocket were in bloom, they did full justice to the charms of autumn, and took their fill of the pleasures of that season. Mihrgán was protracted, for the cold did not wax severe, and the grapes proved to be of exceptional sweetness. For in the district of Herát one hundred and twenty different varieties of the grape occur, each sweeter and more delicious than the other; and amongst them are in particular two kinds which are not to be found in any other region of the inhabited world, one called Tarniyán²

and the other Gulchídí,³

tight-skinned, slender-cored, and luscious, so that you would surely say they were [flavoured with] cinnamon.⁴

A cluster of Gulchídí grapes sometimes attains a weight of five maunds; they are black as pitch and sweet as sugar, nor can one eat many for the sweetness that is in them. And besides these there were all sorts of other delicious fruits.

So the Amír Naṣr b. Aḥmad saw Mihrgán and its fruits, and was mightily pleased therewith. Then the narcissus began to bloom, and the raisins were plucked and stoned in Málin, and hung up on lines, and packed in chests; and the Amír with his army moved into the two groups of hamlets called Ghúra and Darwáz. There he saw mansions of which each one was like highest paradise, having before it a garden or pleasure-ground with a northern aspect. There they wintered, while the Mandarin oranges began to arrive from Sístán and the sweet oranges from Mázan-darán; and so they passed the winter in the most agreeable manner.

When [the second] spring came, the Amír sent the horses to Bádghís and moved his camp to Málin [to a spot] between two streams. And when summer came, the fruits again ripened; and when Mihrgán came, he said, “Let us enjoy Mihrgán at Herát”; and so from season to season he continued to procrastinate, until four years had passed in this way. For it was then the heyday of the Sámánian prosperity, and the land was flourishing, the kingdom unmenaced by foes, the army loyal, fortune favourable, and heaven auspicious; yet withal the Amir's attendants grew weary, and desire for home arose within them, while they beheld the King quiescent, the air of Herát in his head and the love of Herát in his heart; and in the course of conversation he would declare that he preferred Herát to the Garden of Eden, and would set its charms above those of the springtide of Beauty.¹

So they perceived that he intended to remain there for that summer also. Then the captains of the army and courtiers of the King went to Abú 'Abdu'lláh Rúdagí,²

than whom there was none more honoured of the King's intimates, and none whose words found so ready an acceptance. And they said to him: “We will present thee with five thousand dínárs if thou wilt contrive some artifice whereby the King may be induced to depart hence, for our hearts are dying for desire of our wives and children, and our souls are like to leave us for longing after Bukhárá.” Rúdagí agreed; and since he had felt the Amír's pulse and understood his temper, he perceived that prose would not affect him, and so had recourse to verse. He therefore composed a qaṣída; and, when the Amír had taken his morning cup, came in and did obeisance, and sat down in his place; and, when the musicians ceased, he took up the harp, and, playing the “Lover's air,” began this elegy:—¹

◌

“The Jú-yi-Múliyán we call to mind,
We long for those dear friends long left behind.”

Then he strikes a lower key, and sings:—

◌

“The sands of Oxus, toilsome though they be,
Beneath my feet were soft as silk to me.
Glad at the friend's return, the Oxus deep
Up to our girths in laughing waves shall leap.
Long live Bukhárá! Be thou of good cheer!
Joyous towards thee hasteth our Amír!
The Moon's the Prince, Bukhárá is the sky;
O Sky, the Moon shall light thee by and bye!
Bukhárá is the mead, the Cypress he;
Receive at last, O Mead, thy Cypress-tree!”

When Rúdagí reached this verse, the Amír was so much affected that he descended from his throne, bestrode the horse which was on sentry-duty,¹

and set off for Bukhárá so precipitately that they carried his riding-boots after him for two parasangs, as far as Burúna,²

and only then did he put them on; nor did he draw rein anywhere till he reached Bukhárá, and Rúdagí received from the army the double of that five thousand dínárs.

At Samarqand, in the year A.H. 504 (= A.D. 1110-1111), I heard from the Dihqán Abú Rijá Aḥmad b. 'Abdu'ṣ-Ṣamad al-'Ábidí as follows:—“My grandfather, the Dihqán Abú Rijá, related that [on this occasion] when Rúdagí reached Samarqand, he had four hundred camels laden with his wealth.” And, indeed, that illustrious man was worthy of this splendid equipment, for no one has yet produced a successful imitation of that elegy, nor found means to surmount triumphantly the difficulties [which the subject presents]. Thus the Poet-laureate Mu'izzí was one of the sweetest singers and most graceful wits in Persia, and his poetry reaches the highest level in freshness and sweetness, and excels in fluency and charm. Zaynu'l-Mulk Abú Sa'd [b.] Hindú b. Muḥammad b. Hindú of Isfahán³

requested him to compose an imitation of this qaṣída, and Mu'izzí, unable to plead his inability so to do, wrote:—

◌

“Now advanceth Rustam from Mázandarán,
Now advanceth Zayn-i-Mulk from Isfahán.”

All wise men will perceive how great is the difference between this poetry and that; for who can sing with such sweetness as does Rúdagí when he says:—

◌

“Surely are renown and praise a lasting gain,
Even though the royal coffers loss sustain!”

For in this couplet are seven admirable touches of art: first, the verse is apposite; secondly, antithetical; thirdly, it has a refrain; fourthly, it embodies an enunciation of equivalence; fifthly, it has sweetness; sixthly, style; seventhly, energy. Every master of the craft, who has deeply considered the poetic art, will admit, after a little reflection, that I am right.

The love borne by Maḥmúd Yamínu'd-Dawla to Ayáz the Turk is well known and famous. It is related that Ayáz was not remarkably handsome, but had several good points. Of sweet expression and olive complexion, symmetrically formed, graceful in his movements, sensible and deliberate in action, he was mightily endowed with all the arts of courtiership, in which respect, indeed, he had few rivals in his time. Now these are all qualities which excite love and give permanence to friendship.

Now Maḥmúd was a pious and God-fearing man, and he wrestled with his love for Ayáz so that he did not diverge by so much as a single step from the Path of the Law and the Way of Chivalry. One night, however, at a carousal, when the wine had begun to affect him and love to stir within him, he looked at the curls of Ayáz, and saw, as it were, ambergris rolling over the face of the moon, hyacinths twisted about the visage of the sun, ringlet upon ringlet like a coat of mail; link upon link like a chain; in every ringlet a thousand hearts and under every lock a hundred thousand souls. Thereupon love plucked the reins of self-restraint from the hands of his endurance, and lover-like he drew him to himself. But the watchman of “Hath not God forbidden you to transgress against Him?” thrust forth his head from the collar of the Law, stood before Maḥmúd, and said: “O Maḥmúd, mingle not sin with love, nor mix the false with the true, for such a slip will raise the Realm of Love in revolt against thee, and thou wilt fall like thy first father from Love's Paradise, and remain afflicted in the world of Sin.” The ear of his fortunate nature being quick to hear, he hearkened to this announcement, and the tongue of his faith cried from his innermost soul, “We believe and we affirm.” Then, again, he feared lest the army of his self-control might be unable to withstand the evolutions of the locks of Ayáz, so, drawing a knife, he placed it in the hands of Ayáz, bidding him take it and cut off his curls. Ayáz took the knife from his hands with an obeisance, and, having enquired where he should cut them, was bidden to cut them in the middle. He therefore doubled back his locks to get the measurement, executed the King's command, and laid the two tresses before Maḥmúd. It is said that this ready obedience became a fresh cause of love; and Maḥmúd called for gold and jewels and gave to Ayáz beyond his usual custom and ordinary practice, after which he fell into a drunken sleep.

When the morning breeze blew upon him, and he arose from sleep to ascend the Royal Throne, he remembered what he had done. He summoned Ayáz and saw the clipped tresses. The army of remorse invaded his heart, and the peevish headache born of wine settled on his brain. He kept rising up and sitting down aimlessly, and none of the courtiers or men of rank dared to address to him any enquiry, until at length Ḥájib 'Alí Qaríb, who was the Chief Chamberlain, turned to 'Unṣurí and said, “Go, show thyself to him.” So 'Unṣurí came in and did obeisance. Maḥmúd raised his head and said: “I was just thinking of you. You see what has happened: say something on this subject.” 'Unṣurí said:—

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“Though shame it be a fair one's curls to shear,
Why rise in wrath or sit in sorrow here?
Rather rejoice, make merry, call for wine;
When clipped the cypress doth most trim appear.”

Maḥmúd was highly pleased with this quatrain, and bade them bring gold and silver, which he mixed together, and therewith thrice filled the poet's lap. Then he summoned the minstrels before him, and drank wine to [the accompaniment of] those two verses whereby his melancholy had been dissipated, and recovered the equability of his temper.

Now you must know that improvisation is the chief pillar of the Poetic Art; and it is incumbent on the poet to train his talents to such a point as to be able to improvise on any subject, for thus is money extracted from the treasury, and thus can the king be made acquainted with any matter which arises. All this is necessary to please the heart of one's patron and the humour of him who is the subject of one's eulogies; and whatever poets have earned in the way of great rewards has been earned by improvisations and poems inspired by the occasion.

Farrukhí was a native of Sístán, and was the son of Júlúgh,¹

the servant of Amír Khalaf.²

He was possessed of good talents, composed pleasing verses, and was a skilful performer on the harp; and he was retained in the service of one of the dihqáns of Sístán, who gave him a yearly allowance of two hundred measures of corn, each containing five maunds, and a hundred dirhams in silver coinage of Núḥ [which amply sufficed for his needs].¹

But he desired to marry a woman of Khalaf's clientage, whereby his expenses were increased, and the baskets and trays were multiplied,²

so that Farrukhí remained without sufficient provision, nor was there in Sístán anyone else save³

their amírs. He therefore appealed to the Dihqán, saying: “My expenses have been increased; how would it be if the Dihqán should make my allowance of corn three hundred maunds, and raise my salary by five hundred dirhams, so that my means may perhaps become equal to my expenditure?” The Dihqán wrote on the back of the appeal: “So much shall not be refused you, but there is no possibility of any further increase.”

So Farrukhí was in despair, and made enquiries of such as arrived and passed by to hear of some patron in some region or part of the world who might look upon him with favour, so that he might chance on a success; until at length they informed him that the Amír Abu'l-Mudhaffar Chighání in Chighániyán⁴

was a munificent patron of this class, conferring on them splendid presents and rewards, and was at that period conspicuous in this respect amongst the kings of the age and nobles of the time. On the subject of this choice Farrukhí says:—

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“In a caravan of merchandise from Sístán did I start,
With fabrics spun within my brain and woven by my heart.”

In truth it is a fine elegy that he composed on the Poetic Art, incomparable in the beauty of its eulogies.

So Farrukhí, having furnished himself with what was necessary for the journey, set out for Chighániyán. Now Abu'l-Mudhaffar had 18,000 mares, roadsters,¹

each one of which was followed by its colt. And every year the Amír used to go out to brand the mares, and at this moment he happened to be at the place where the branding was done; while 'Amíd As'ad, who was his steward, was at the capital preparing provisions to be conveyed to the Amír. To him Farrukhí went, and recited a qaṣída, and submitted to him the poetry he had composed for the Amír.

Now 'Amíd As'ad was a man of parts and a poet, and in Farrukhí's verse he recognized poetry at once fresh, sweet, pleasing, and masterly, while seeing the man himself to be ill-proportioned, clothed in a torn jubba worn anyhow,²

with a huge turban on his head after the manner of the Sagzís, of the most unprepossessing appearance from head to foot; and this poetry, withal, in the seventh heaven. He could not believe that it had been composed by this Sagzí, and, to prove him, said: “The Amír is at the branding-ground, whither I go to wait upon him; and thither I will take thee also, for it is a mighty pleasant spot—

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‘World within world of verdure wilt thou see’—

full of tents and lamps like stars, and from each tent come the songs of Rúdagí, and friends sit together, drinking wine and making merry, while before the Amír's pavilion a great fire is kindled, in size like unto several mountains, whereat they brand the colts. And the King, with the goblet in one hand and the lassoo in the other, drinks wine and gives away horses. Compose, now, a qaṣída, describing the branding-ground, so that I may take thee before the Amír.”

That night Farrukhí went and composed the following qaṣída, which he brought before 'Amíd:—¹

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“Since the meadow hides its face in satin shot with greens and
blues,
And the mountains wrap their brows in silken veils of seven
hues,
Earth is teeming like the musk-pod with aromas rich and rare,
Foliage bright as parrot's plumage doth the graceful willow
wear.
Yestere'en the midnight breezes brought the tidings of the
spring:
Welcome, O ye northern gales, for this glad promise which
ye bring!
Up its sleeve the wind, meseemeth, pounded musk hath stored
away,
While the garden fills its lap with shining dolls, as though for
play.

On the branches of syringa necklaces of pearls we see,
Ruby earrings of Badakshán sparkle on the Judas-tree.
Since the branches of the rose-bush carmine cups and beakers
bore
Human-like five-fingered hands reach downwards from the
sycamore.
Gardens all chameleon-coated, branches with chameleon whorls,
Pearly-lustrous pools around us, clouds above us raining pearls!
On the gleaming plain this coat of many colours doth appear
Like a robe of honour granted in the court of our Amír.
For our Prince's Camp of Branding stirreth in these joyful
days,
So that all this age of ours in joyful wonder stands agaze.
Green within the green you see, like skies within the firmament;
Like a fort within a fortress spreads the army, tent on tent.
Every tent contains a lover resting in his sweetheart's arms,
Every patch of grass revealeth to a friend a favourite's charms.
Harps are sounding 'midst the verdure, minstrels sing their
lays divine,
Tents resound with clink of glasses as the pages pour the wine.
Kisses, claspings from the lovers; coy reproaches from the fair;
Wine-born slumbers for the sleepers, while the minstrels wake
the air.
Branding fires, like suns ablaze, are kindled at the spacious gate
Leading to the State-pavilion of our Prince so fortunate.
Leap the flames like gleaming lances draped with yellow-lined
brocade,
Hotter than a young man's temper, yellower than gold assayed.
Branding tools like coral branches ruby-tinted glow amain
In the fire, as in the ripe pomegranate glows the crimson grain.
Rank on rank of active boys, whose watchful eyes no slumber
know;
Steeds which still await the branding, rank on rank and row
on row.
On his horse, the river-forder, roams our genial Prince afar,
Ready to his hand the lassoo, like a young Isfandiyár.
Like the locks of pretty children see it how it curls and bends,
Yet be sure its hold is stronger than the covenant of friends.

Bu'l-Mudhaffar Shah the Just, surrounded by a noble band,
King and conqueror of cities, brave defender of the land.
Serpent-coiled in skilful hands fresh forms his whirling noose
doth take,
Like unto the rod of Moses metamorphosed to a snake.
Whosoever hath been captured by that noose and circling line,
On the face and flank and shoulder ever bears the Royal sign.
But, though on one side he brands, he giveth also rich rewards,
Leads his poets with a bridle, binds his guests as though with
cords.”

When 'Amíd As'ad heard this elegy, he was overwhelmed with amazement, for never had the like of it reached his ears. He put aside all his business, mounted Farrukhí on a horse, and set out for the Amír, whose presence he entered about sundown, saying: “O Sire, I bring thee a poet the like of whom the eye of Time hath not seen since Daqíqí's face was veiled in death.” Then he related what had passed.

So the Amír accorded Farrukhí an audience, and when he came in he did reverence, and the Amír gave him his hand, and assigned him an honourable place, enquiring after his health, treating him with kindness, and inspiring him with hopes of favours to come. When the wine had gone round several times, Farrukhí arose, and, in a sweet and plaintive voice, recited his elegy, beginning:—

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“In a caravan of merchandise from Sístán did I start,
With fabrics spun within my brain and woven in my heart.”

When he had finished, the Amír, himself something of a poet, expressed his astonishment at this qaṣída. 'Amíd As'ad said, “Wait till you see!” Farrukhí was silent until the wine had produced its full effect on the Amír, then he arose and recited this elegy on the branding-ground. The Amír was amazed, and in his admiration turned to Farrukhí, saying: “They have brought in a thousand colts, all with white foreheads, fetlocks, and feet. Thou art a cunning rascal, a Sagzí; catch as many as thou art able, that they may be thine.” Farrukhí, on whom the wine had produced its full effect, came out, took his turban from his head, hurled himself into the midst of the herd, and chased a drove of them before him across the plain; but, though he caused them to gallop hither and thither, he could not catch a single one. At length a ruined rest-house situated on the edge of the camping-ground came into view, and thither the colts fled. Farrukhí, being tired out, placed his turban under his head in the porch of the rest-house, and at once went to sleep, by reason of his extreme weariness and the effects of the wine. When they counted the colts, they were forty-two in number. The Amír, on being told of this, laughed and said: “He is a lucky fellow, and will come to great things. Look after him, and look after the colts as well. When he awakes, waken me too.” So they obeyed the King's orders.

Next day, after sunrise, Farrukhí arose. The Amír had already risen, and, when he had performed his prayers, he gave Farrukhí an audience, treated him with great consideration, and handed over the colts to his attendants. He also ordered Farrukhí to be given a horse and equipments suitable to a man of rank, as well as a tent, three camels, five slaves, wearing apparel, and carpets. So Farrukhí prospered in his service, and enjoyed the greatest circumstance, and waited upon Sulṭán Maḥmúd, who, seeing him thus magnificently equipped, regarded him with the same regard, and his affairs reached that pitch of prosperity which they reached, so that twenty servants girt with silver girdles rode behind him.

In the year A.H. 510 (A.D. 1116-1117) the King of Islám Sanjar, the son of Maliksháh the Seljúq (may God be merciful to him!), chanced to be encamped at the spring season within the marches of Ṭús, in the plain of Tarúq, when I, in hopes of obtaining some favour, joined his Court from Herát, having then nothing in the way of equipment or provision. I composed a qaṣída and went to Mu'izzí, the Poet-laureate, to seek for his counsel and support. He looked at my poem, and, having tested my talents in several ways, behaved in the most noble manner, and deemed it his duty to act in the way befitting so great a man.

One day I expressed in his presence a hope that Fortune would be more favourable to me, and complained of my luck. He answered genially: “Thou hast laboured hard to acquire this science, and hast fully mastered it: surely this will have its effect. My own case was precisely similar; and good poetry has never yet been wasted. Thou hast a goodly share in this art: thy verse is even and melodious, and is still improving. Wait and see the advantages which thou wilt reap from this science. For though Fortune should at first be grudging, matters will eventually turn out as thou wishest.

“My father Burhání, the Poet-laureate (may God be merciful to him!), passed away from this transitory to that eternal world in the town of Qazwín in the early part of the reign of Maliksháh, entrusting me to the King in this verse, since then become famous:—¹

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‘I am flitting, but I leave a son behind me,
And commend him to my God and to my King.’

“So my father's salary and allowances were transferred to me, and I became Maliksháh's court-poet, and spent a year in the King's service; yet was I unable to see him save from a distance, nor did I get one dínár of my salary or one maund of my allowances, while my expenditure was increased, I became involved in debt, and my brain was perplexed by my affairs. For that great Minister the Nidhámu'l-Mulk (may God be merciful to him!) had no opinion of poets, because he had no skill in their art; nor did he pay any attention to any one of the religious leaders or mystics.

“One day—it was the eve of the day on which the new moon of Ramaḍán was due to appear, and I had not a farthing for all the expenses incidental to that month and the feast which follows it—I went thus sad at heart to the Amír 'Alí Farámarz¹

'Alá'u'd-Dawla, a man of royal parentage, a lover of poetry, and the intimate companion and son-in-law of the King, with whom he enjoyed the highest honour and before whom he could speak boldly, for he held high rank under that administration. And he had already been my patron. I said: ‘May my lord's life be long! Not all that the father could do can the son do, nor does that which accrued to the father accrue to the son. My father was a bold and energetic man, and was sustained by his art, and the martyred King Alp Arslán, the lord of the world, entertained the highest opinion of him. But what he could do that can I not, for modesty forbids me. I have served this prince for a year, and have contracted debts to the extent of a thousand dínárs, and have not received a farthing. Crave permission, then, for thy servant to go to Níshápúr, and discharge his debts, and live on that which is left over, and express his gratitude to this victorious Dynasty.’

“‘Thou speakest truly,’ replied Amír 'Alí: ‘we have all been at fault, but this shall be so no longer. The King, at the time of Evening Prayer, will go up to look for the moon. Thou must be present there, and we will see what Fortune will do.’ Thereupon he at once ordered me to receive a hundred dínárs to defray my Ramaḍán expenses, and a purse containing this sum in Níshápúr coinage was forthwith brought and placed before me. So I returned mightily well pleased, and made my preparations for Ramaḍán, and at the time of the second prayer went to the King's pavilion. It chanced that 'Alá'u'd-Dawla arrived at the very same moment, and I paid my respects to him. ‘Thou hast done excellently well,’ said he, ‘and hast come punctually.’ Then he dismounted and went in before the King.

“At sundown the King came forth from his pavilion, with a cross-bow in his hand and 'Alá'u'd-Dawla on his right hand. I ran forward to do obeisance. Amír 'Alí continued the kindnesses he had already shown me, and then busied himself in looking for the moon. The King, however, was the first to see it, whereat he was mightily pleased. Then 'Alá'u'd-Dawla said to me, ‘O son of Burhání, say something appropriate,’ and I at once recited these two couplets:—

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‘Methinks, O Moon, thou art our Prince's bow,
Or his curved eyebrow, which doth charm us so,
Or else a horse-shoe wrought of gold refined,
Or ring from Heaven's ear depending low.’

“When I had submitted these verses, Amír 'Alí applauded, and the King said: ‘Go, loose from the stable whichever horse thou pleasest.’ When I was close to the stable, Amír 'Alí designated a horse which was brought out and given to my attendants, and which proved to be worth 300 dínárs of Níshápúr. The King then went to his oratory, and I performed the evening prayer, after which we sat down to meat. At the table Amír 'Alí said: ‘O son of Burhání! Thou has not yet said anything about this favour conferred on thee by the lord of the world. Compose a quatrain at once!’ I thereupon sprang to my feet and recited these two verses:—

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‘The King beheld the fire which in me blazed:
Me from low earth above the moon he raised:
From me a verse, like water fluent heard,
And swift as wind a noble steed conferred.’

“When I recited these verses 'Alá'u'd-Dawla warmly applauded me, and by reason of his applause the King gave me a thousand dínárs. Then 'Alá'u'd-Dawla said: ‘He hath not yet received his salary and allowances. To-morrow I will sit by the Minister until he writes a draft for his salary on Isfahán, and orders his allowances to be paid out of the treasury.’ Said the King: ‘Thou must do it, then, for no one else has sufficient boldness. And call this poet after my title.’ Now the King's title was Mu'izzu'd-Dunyá wa'd-Dín, so Amír 'Alí called me Mu'izzí. 'Amír Mu'izzí,' said the King, [correcting him]. And this noble lord was so zealous for me that next day, by the time of the first prayer, I had received a thousand dínárs as a gift, twelve hundred more as allowances, and an order for a thousand maunds of corn. And when the month of Ramaḍán was past, he summoned me to a private audience, and caused me to become the King's boon-companion. So my fortune began to improve, and thenceforth he made enduring provision for me, and to-day whatever I have I possess by the favour of that Prince. May God, blessed and exalted is He, rejoice his dust with the lights of His Mercy, by His Favour and His Grace!”

The House of Seljúq were all fond of poetry, but none more so than Ṭughán Sháh b. Alp Arslán,¹

whose conversation and intercourse was entirely with poets, and whose favourite companions were almost all of this class— men such as Amír Abú 'Abdu'lláh Qurashí, Abú Bakr Azraqí,²

Abú Manṣúr, Abú Yúsuf, Shujá'í of Fasá, Aḥmad Badíhí,³

Ḥaqíqí and Nasímí, all of whom enjoyed a definite status, while many others kept coming and going, all departing with gifts and joyful countenances.

One day the King was playing backgammon with Aḥmad Badíhí. They were finishing a game for [a stake of] ten thousand [dínárs], and the Amír had two pieces in the sixth house and Aḥmad Badíhí two pieces in the first house⁴;

and it was the Amír's throw. He threw with the most deliberate care, in order to cast two sixes, instead of which he threw two ones, whereat he was mightily vexed and left the board, while his anger rose so high and reached such a pitch that each moment he was like to put his hand to his sword, and his courtiers trembled like the leaves of a tree, seeing that he was a king, and withal a boy angered at such spite of Fortune.

Then Abú Bakr Azraqí arose, and, approaching the minstrels, recited this quatrain:—

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“Reproach not Fortune with discourteous tricks
If by the King, desiring double six,
Two ones were thrown; for whomsoe'er he calls
Face to the earth before him prostrate falls.”

When I was at Herát in the year A.H. 509 (A.D. 1115-1116), Abú Manṣúr and Abú Yúsuf related to me that the Amír Tughánsháh was so charmed and delighted with these two verses that he kissed Azraqí on the eyes, called for gold, and successively placed five hundred dínárs in his mouth, continuing thus to reward him so long as one gold piece was left. Thus did he recover his good humour and such largesse did he bestow, and the cause of all this was one quatrain. May God Almighty have mercy on both of them, by His Favour and Grace!

In the year A.H. 472 (A.D. 1079-1080)¹

a certain spiteful person laid a statement before Sulṭán Ibráhím to the effect that his son, Maḥmúd Sayfu'd-Dawla, intended to go to 'Iráq to Maliksháh. The King's jealousy was aroused, and it so worked on him that suddenly he had his son seized, bound, and interned in the fortress of Náy. His son's intimates also he arrested and interned, amongst them Mas'úd-i-Sa'd-i-Salmán, whom he sent to Vajíristán,²

to the Castle of Náy; whence he sent to the King the following quatrain which he had composed:—

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“O King, 't is Maliksháh should wear thy chain,
That royal limbs might fret with captive's pain,
But Sa'd-i-Salmán's offspring could not hurt,
Though venomous as poison, thy domain!”

'Alí Kháṣṣ brought this quatrain to the King, but it produced no effect on him, though all wise and impartial critics will recognize what rank Mas'úd's poems of captivity¹

hold in lofty feeling, and what degree in eloquence. Sometimes, when I read his verses, the hair stands on end on my body, and the tears are like to trickle from my eyes. But when these verses were read to the King, and he heard them, they affected him not at all, and not one particle of his being was warmed to enthusiasm, so that he departed from this world leaving that noble man in prison. Khwája Salmán says:—²

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“Naught served the ends of statesmen save that I,
A helpless exile, should in fetters lie,
Nor do they deem me safe within their cells,
Unless surrounded by ten sentinels;
Which ten sit ever by the gates and walls,
And ever one unto his comrade calls:
‘Ho there! On guard! This cunning rogue is one
To fashion bridge and steps from shade and sun!’
Why, grant I stood arrayed for such a fight,
And suddenly sprang forth, attempting flight,
Could elephant or raging lion hope,
Thus cramped in prison-cage, with ten to cope?
Can I, bereft of weapons, take the field,
Or make of back and bosom bow and shield?”

So, by reason of his relation to Sayfu'd-Dawla, he remained imprisoned for twelve years in the days of Sulṭán Ibráhím. And Abú Naṣr of Párs,¹

on account of his like relation, was imprisoned for eight years, though none hath been heard of who hath produced so many splendid elegies and rare gems of verse as were born of his brilliant genius. After eight²

years Ṭáhir 'Alí of Múshkán, Thiqatu'l-Mulk, brought him forth from his bondage, so that, in short, during this King's reign that illustrious man spent all his life in captivity, and the ill repute of this deed remained on this House. I hesitate as to the motives which are to be assigned to this act, and whether it is to be ascribed to strength of purpose, or a heedless nature, or hardness of heart, or a malicious disposition. In any case it was not a laudable deed, and I have never met with any sensible man who was prepared to praise that dynasty for such inflexibility of purpose or excess of caution. And I heard it remarked by the King of the World Ghiyáthu'd-Dín wa'd-Dunyá Muḥammad,¹

the son of Maliksháh, at the Gates of Hamadán, on the occasion of the rebellion of his son-in-law, Amír Shihábu'd-Dín Qutulmush Alp Ghází: “It is the sign of a malicious heart to keep a foe imprisoned, for one of two things, either he means well or ill. Then, if the former, it is an injustice to keep him in prison; and if the latter, it is again an injustice to suffer an ill-doer to live.” In short that misery of Mas'úd passed, while this ill repute will endure till the Resurrection.

In the time of Sulṭán Khiḍr b. Ibráhím the power of the Kháqánís²

was at its most flourishing period, while the strength of their administration and the respect in which it was held were such as could not be surpassed.

Now he was a wise, just, and sagacious ruler, and to him appertained the dominion of Transoxania and Turkistán, while he enjoyed the most complete security on the side of Khurásán, wherewith he was allied by friendly relations, kinship, and firm treatises and covenants. And of the splendour maintained by him one detail was this, that when he rode out they carried before his horse, besides other arms, seven hundred maces of gold and silver. He was, moreover, a great patron of poets, and in his service were Amír Am'aq,¹

Master Rashídí,²

Najjár-i-Ságharchí, 'Alí Pánídí,³

the son of Darghúsh,⁴

the son of Isfaráyiní, 'Alí Sipihrí,⁵

and Najíbí of Farghána, all of whom obtained rich rewards and vast honours. The Poet-laureate was Amír 'Am'aq, who had profited abundantly by that dynasty and obtained the most ample circumstance, comprising fair damsels, well-paced horses, golden vessels, sumptuous apparel, and servants, biped and quadruped, innumerable. He was greatly honoured at the King's Court, so that of necessity the other poets must needs do him reverence. Such homage as from the others he desired from Master Rashídí also, but herein he was disappointed, for Rashídí, though still young, was nevertheless learned in his art. The Lady Zaynab was the special object of his panegyrics, and he enjoyed the fullest favour of the King, who was continually praising him and asserting his merits, so that Rashídí's affairs prospered, the title of “Prince of poets”⁶

was conferred on him, he continued to rise higher in the King's opinion, and from him received gifts of great value.

One day, in Rashídí's absence, the King asked 'Am'aq: “What thinkest thou of the verse of Rashídí, ‘the Prince of poets’?” “His verse,” replied he, “is extremely good and chaste and correct, but it wants spice.”

After some while had elapsed, Rashídí came in and did obeisance, and was about to sit down when the King called him before himself, and said, teasing him as is the way of kings: “I asked the Poet-laureate just now, ‘How is Rashídí's poetry?’ He replied that it was good, but wanted spice. Now you must compose a quatrain on this subject.” Rashídí, with a bow, sat down in his place and improvised the following fragment:—

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“You stigmatize my verse as ‘wanting spice,’
And possibly, my friend, you may be right.
My verse is honey-flavoured, sugar-sweet,
And spice with such could scarcely cause delight.
Spice is for you, you blackguard, not for me,
For beans and turnips is the stuff you write!”

When he recited these verses the King was mightily pleased. And in Transoxania it is the custom and practice to place in the audience-chambers of kings and others gold and silver in trays which they call sím-ṭáqá or juft;¹

and in this audience of Khiḍr Khán's there were set four trays of red gold, each containing two hundred and fifty dínárs; and these he used to dispense by the handful. On this day he ordered Rashídí to receive all four trays, so he obtained the highest honour, and became famous. For just as a patron becomes famous by the verse of a good poet, so do poets likewise achieve renown by receiving a great reward from the king, these two things being interdependent.

Master Abu'l-Qásim Firdawsí²

was one of the Dihqáns of Ṭús, from a village called Bázh, in the district of Ṭabarán,¹

a large village capable of supplying a thousand men. There Firdawsí enjoyed an excellent position, so that he was rendered quite independent of his neighbours by the income which he derived from his lands, and he had but one child, a daughter. His one desire in putting the Book of Kings (Sháhnáma) into verse was, out of the reward which he might obtain for it, to supply her with an adequate dowry. And to this end he left nothing undone, raising his verse as high as heaven, and causing it in sweet fluency to resemble running water. What genius, indeed, could raise verse to such a height as he does in the letter written by Zál to Sám the son of Naríman in Mázandarán, when he desired to ally himself with Rúdába the daughter of the King of Kábul:—²

◌

“Then to Sám straightway sent he a letter,
Filled with fair praises, prayers, and good greeting.
First made he mention of the World-Maker,
Who doom dispenseth and doom fulfilleth.
‘On Níram's son Sám,’ wrote he, ‘the sword-lord,
Mail-clad and mace-girt, may the Lord's peace rest!
Hurler of horse troops in hot-contested fights,
Feeder of carrion-fowls with foemen's flesh-feast,

Raising the roar of strife on the red war-field,
From the grim war-clouds grinding the gore-shower.
Who, by his manly might merit on merit
Heaps, till his merit merit outmeasures.’”¹

In eloquence I know of no poetry in Persian which equals this, and but little even in Arabic.

When Firdawsí had completed the Sháhnáma, it was transcribed by 'Alí Daylam²

and recited by Abú Dulaf,²

both of whom he mentions by name in tendering his thanks to Ha'íy-i-Quṭayba,³

the governor of Ṭús, who had conferred on Firdawsí many favours:—

◌

“Of the men of renown of this city 'Alí Daylam and Abú
Dulaf have participated in this book.
From them my portion was naught save ‘Well done!’
My gall-bladder was like to burst with their ‘Well dones.’⁴

Ḥa'íy the son of Qutayba is a nobleman who asks me not for
unrewarded verse.
I am cognizant neither of the principles nor the applications
of tax-collecting;
I lounge [at ease] in the midst of my quilt.”⁵

Ḥa'íy the son of Qutayba was the revenue-collector of Ṭús, and deemed it his duty at least to abate the taxes payable by Firdawsí; hence naturally his name will endure till the Resurrection and kings will read it.

So 'Alí Daylam transcribed the Sháhnáma in seven volumes, and Firdawsí, taking with him Abú Dulaf, set out for Ghazna. There, by the help of the great Minister Aḥmad Ḥasan¹

the secretary, he presented it, and it was accepted, Sulṭán Maḥmúd expressing himself as greatly indebted to his Minister. But the Prime Minister had enemies who were continually casting the dust of perturbation into the cup of his position, and Maḥmúd consulted with them as to what he should give Firdawsí. They replied: “Fifty thousand dirhams, and even that is too much, seeing that he is in belief a Ráfiḍí and a Mu'tazilite. Of his Mu'tazilite views this verse is a proof:—

◌

‘Thy gaze the Creator can never descry;
Then wherefore, by gazing, dost weary thine eye?’

“while to his Ráfiḍí proclivities these verses of his witness:

◌²

‘When the Lord of the World established the Sea, the fierce wind
stirred up waves thereon,
Thereon, as it were, seventy ships wrought, all with sails set.
Amongst them one vessel, fair as a bride, decked with colour
like the eye of the cock,
Therein the Prophet with 'Alí, and all the household of the
Prophet ana his Vicar.
If thou desirest Paradise in the other World, take thy place
by the Prophet and his Trustee.
If ill accrues to thee thereby, it is my fault: know this, that
this way is my way.
In this I was born, and in this I will pass away: know for
a surety that I am as dust at the feet of 'Alí.’”

Now Sulṭán Maḥmúd was a zealot, and he listened to these imputations and caught hold of them, and, to be brief, only twenty¹

thousand dirhams were paid to Ḥakím Firdawsí. He was bitterly disappointed, went to the bath, and, on coming out, bought a drink of sherbet,²

and divided the money between the bath-man and the sherbet-seller. Knowing, however, Maḥmúd's severity, he fled from Ghazna, and alighted in Herát at the shop of Azraqí's father, Isma'íl the bookseller (Warráq), where he remained in hiding for six months, until Maḥmúd's messengers had reached Ṭús and had turned back thence, when Firdawsí, feeling secure, set out from Herát for Ṭús, taking the Sháhnáma with him. Thence he came to Ṭabaristán to the Sipahbad Shír-zád of the House of Bávand, who was king there; and this is a noble house which traces its descent from Yazdigird the son of Shahriyár.

Then Firdawsí wrote a satire on Sulṭán Maḥmúd in the Preface, and read a hundred couplets to Shír-zád,³

saying: “I will dedicate this Sháhnáma to you instead of to Sulṭán Maḥmúd, for this book deals wholly with the legends and deeds of thy forebears.” Shír-zád treated him with honour and showed him many kindnesses, and said: “Maḥmúd was induced to act thus by others, who did not submit your book to him under proper conditions, and misrepresented you. Moreover, you are a Shí'ite, and to one who loves the Family of the Prophet nothing will happen which did not happen to them. Maḥmúd is my liege-lord: let the Sháhnáma stand in his name, and give me the satire which you have written on him, that I may expunge it and give you some little recompense; and Maḥmúd will surely summon thee and seek to satisfy thee fully. Do not, then, throw away the labour spent on such a book.” And next day he sent Firdawsí 100,000 dirhams, saying: “I buy each couplet at a thousand dirhams; give me those hundred couplets, and rest satisfied therewith.” So Firdawsí sent him these verses, and he ordered them to be expunged; and Firdawsí also destroyed his rough copy of them, so that this satire was done away with, and only these few verses remained:—¹

◌²

“They cast imputations on me, saying: ‘That man of many
words
Hath grown old in the love of the Prophet and 'Alí.’
If I speak of my love for these
I can protect a hundred such as Maḥmúd.

No good can come of the son of a slave,
Even though his father hath ruled as King.
The King had no aptitude for good,
Else would he have seated me on a throne.
Since in his family there was no nobility
He could not bear to hear the names of the noble.”

In truth good service was rendered to Maḥmúd by Shír-zád, and Maḥmúd was greatly indebted to him.

When I was at Níshápúr in the year A.H. 514 (A.D. 1120-1121), I heard Amír Mu'izzí say that he had heard Amír 'Abdu'r-Razzáq at Ṭús relate as follows:—“Maḥmúd was once in India, and was returning thence towards Ghazna. On the way, as it chanced, there was a rebellious chief possessed of a strong fortress, and next day Maḥmúd encamped at the gates of it, and sent an ambassador to him, bidding him come before him on the morrow, do homage, pay his respects at the Court, receive a robe of honour and return to his place. Next day Maḥmúd rode out with the Prime Minister on his right hand, for the ambassador had turned back and was coming to meet the king. ‘I wonder,’ said the latter to the Minister, ‘what answer he will have given?’ The Minister replied:

◌

‘Should the answer come contrary to my wish,
Then for me the mace and the arena of [combat with]
Afrásiyáb.’

‘Whose verse,’ enquired Maḥmúd, ‘is that? For he must have the heart of a man.’ ‘Poor Abu'l-Qásim Firdawsí composed it,’ answered the Minister; ‘he who laboured for five and twenty years to complete such a work, and reaped from it no advantage.’ ‘You speak well,’ said Maḥmúd; ‘I deeply regret that this noble man was disappointed by me. Remind me at Ghazna to send him something.’

“So when the Sultan returned to Ghazna, the Minister reminded him; and Maḥmúd ordered Firdawsí to be given sixty thousand dínárs' worth of indigo, and that this indigo should be carried to Ṭús on the King's own camels, and that apologies should be made to Firdawsí. For years the Minister had been working for this, and at length he had achieved his work; so now he caused the camels to be loaded, and the indigo arrived safely at Ṭabarán.¹

But as the camels were entering through the Rúdbár Gate, the corpse of Firdawsí was being borne forth from the Gate of Razán.²

Now at this time there was in Ṭabarán a preacher whose fanaticism was such that he declared that he would not suffer Firdawsí's body to be buried in the Musulmán Cemetery, because he was a Ráfiḍí; and nothing that men could say served to move this doctor. Now outside the gate there was a garden belonging to Firdawsí, and there they buried him, and there he lies to this day.” And in the year A.H. 510 (A.D. 1116-1117) I visited his tomb.³

They say that Firdawsí left a daughter, of very lofty spirit, to whom they would have given the King's gift; but she would not accept it, saying, “I need it not.” The Post-master wrote to the Court and represented this to the King, who ordered that doctor to be expelled from Ṭabarán as a punishment for his officiousness, and to be exiled from his home, and the money to be given to the Imám Abú Bakr Isḥáq for the repair of the rest-house of Cháha,⁴

which stands on the road between Merv and Níshápúr on the boundaries of Ṭús. When this order reached Ṭús and Níshápúr, it was faithfully carried out; and the restoration of the rest-house of Cháha was effected by this money.

At the period when I was in the service of that martyred prince the King of the Mountains (may God illuminate his tomb and exalt his station in Paradise!), that august personage had a high opinion of me, and showed himself a most generous patron towards me. Now on the Festival of the Breaking of the Fast one of the nobles of the city of Balkh (may God maintain its prosperity!), Amír 'Amíd Ṣafiyyu'd-Dín Abú Bakr¹

Muḥammad b. al-Ḥusayn Rawánsháhí, came to the Court. He was a young man, an expert writer, a qualified Secretary of State, well endowed with culture and its fruits, popular with all, whose praises were on all tongues. And at this time I was not in attendance.

Now at a reception the King chanced to say, “Call Nidhámí.” Said the Amír 'Amíd Ṣafiyyu'd-Dín, “Is Nidhámí here?” They answered “Yes.” But he supposed that it was Nidhámí-i-Munírí.²

“Ah,” said he, “a fine poet and a man of wide fame!” When the messenger arrived to summon me, I put on my shoes, and, as I entered, did obeisance, and sat down in my place. When the wine had gone round several times, Amír 'Amíd said, “Nidhámí has not come.” “He is come,” replied the King; “see, there he is, seated in such-and-such a place.” “I am not speaking of this Nidhámí,” answered Amír 'Amíd; “that Nidhámí of whom I speak is another one, and as for this one, I do not even know him.” Thereupon I saw that the King was vexed; he at once turned to me and said, “Is there another Nidhámí besides thee?” “Yes, sire,” I answered, “there are two other Nidhámís, one of Samarqand, whom they call Nidhámí-i-Munírí, and one of Níshápúr, whom they call Nidhámí-i-Athírí; while me they call Nidhámí-i-'Arúḍí.” “Art thou better, or they?” demanded he. Then Amír 'Amíd perceived that he had spoken ill, and that the King was annoyed. “Sire,” said he, “those two Nidhámís are quarrelsome fellows, apt to break up social gatherings by their quarrelsomeness, and to cause trouble, and to do mischief.” “Wait,” said the King jestingly, “till you see this one drain a bumper and break up the meeting:¹

but of these three Nidhámís which is the best poet?” “Of those two,” said the Amír 'Amíd, “I have personal knowledge, having seen them, while this one I have not previously seen, nor have I heard his poetry. If he will compose a couple of verses on this subject which we have been discussing, so that I may see his talents and hear his verse, I will tell you which of these three is best.”

Then the King turned to me, saying: “Now, O Nidhámí, do not shame us: say what 'Amíd desires.”

Now at that time, when I was in the service of this King, I possessed a copious talent and a brilliant genius, and the favours and gifts of my master had stimulated me to such a point that my improvisations came fluent as running water; so I took up a pen, and, ere the wine-cup had gone twice round, composed these five couplets and submitted them to the King:—

◌

“We are three Nidhámís in the world, O King, on account
of whom a whole world is filled with outcry.
I am at Warsá before the King's throne, while those two
others are in Merv before the Sultan.
To-day, in truth, in verse each one is the Pride of Khurásán.
Although they utter verse subtle as spirit, and although they
understand the Art of Speech like Wisdom,
I am the Wine, for, when I get hold of them, both desist
from their work.”

When I submitted these verses, the Amír 'Amíd Ṣafiyyu'd-Dín bowed and said: “O King, let alone the Nidhámís, I know of no poet in all Transoxania, 'Iráq, or Khurásán capable of improvising five such verses, more especially in respect of strength, energy, and sweetness, conjoined with such grace of diction and filled with ideas so original. Rejoice, O Nidhámí, for thou hast no peer on the face of the earth. O sire, he hath a graceful wit, a mind swift to apprehend, and a finished art. By the good fortune of the King of the age and his generosity he hath developed into a unique genius, and will even become more than this, for he is young and hath many days before him.”

Thereat the countenance of my King and Lord brightened mightily, and a great cheerfulness appeared in his gracious temperament, and he applauded me, saying: “I give thee the lead-mine of Warsá from this Festival until the Festival of the Sheep-sacrifice. Send an agent there.” I did so, sending Isḥáq the Jew. It was the middle of summer, and while they were working it they melted much of the ore, so that in seventy days twelve thousand maunds of lead¹

accrued to me, while the King's opinion of me was increased a thousand-fold. May God (blessed and exalted is He) illuminate his august ashes with the light of His approval,²

by His Favour and Grace!