A Literary History of the Arabs

Transcriber's note:
Spelling of the Arabic names is different in the body of the text, in the References and in the Index, these have been left as shown in the original text. Page references in the Index are sometimes related to the footnotes in these pages which can be found using the footnote links in these pages, not necessarily in the page itself. Page titles are displayed when the mouse hovers over page numbers.

Litigants before a Judge

From an Arabic manuscript in the British Museum (Or. 1200; No. 1007 in Rieu's Arabic Supplement), dated A.H. 654 = A.D. 1256, which contains the Maqámȧt of Ḥarìrì illustrated by 81 miniatures in colours. This one represents a scene in the 8th Maqáma: Abú Zayd and his son appearing before the Cadi of Ma‘arratu ’l-Nu’mán. The figure on the left is Ḥárith b. Hammám, whom Ḥarìrì puts forward as the relater of Abú Zayd's adventures.

A LITERARY
HISTORY OF THE ARABS

BY

REYNOLD A. NICHOLSON

CAMBRIDGE
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
1966

PUBLISHED BY
THE SYNDICS OF THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

Bentley House, 200 Euston Road, London, N.W. 1
American Branch: 32 East 57th Street, New York N.Y. 10022,
West African Office: P.O. Box 33, Ibadan, Nigeria

First edition (T. Fisher Unwin) 1907, reprinted 1914, 1923
Reprinted (Cambridge University Press) 1930, 1941, 1953,
1962, 1966

First printed in Great Britain at the University Press, Cambridge
Reprinted by offset-litho by Latimer Trend & Co. Ltd, Whitstable

To
Professor A. A. BEVAN
In grateful recollection of many kindnesses

PREFACE

A Literary History of the Arabs, published by T. Fisher Unwin in 1907 and twice re-issued without alteration, now appears under new auspices, and I wish to thank the Syndics of the Cambridge University Press for the opportunity they have given me of making it in some respects more accurate and useful than it has hitherto been. Since the present edition is printed from the original plates, there could be no question of revising the book throughout and recasting it where necessary; but while only a few pages have been rewritten, the Bibliography has been brought up to date and I have removed several mistakes from the text and corrected others in an appendix which includes a certain amount of supplementary matter. As stated in the preface to the first edition, I hoped "to compile a work which should serve as a general introduction to the subject, and which should be neither too popular for students nor too scientific for ordinary readers. It has been my chief aim to sketch in broad outlines what the Arabs thought, and to indicate as far as possible the influences which moulded their thought.... Experience has convinced me that young students of Arabic, to whom this volume is principally addressed, often find difficulty in understanding what they read, since they are not in touch with the political, intellectual, and religious notions which are presented to them. The pages of almost every Arabic book abound in allusions to names, events, movements, and ideas of which Moslems require no explanation, but which puzzle the Western reader unless he have some general knowledge of Arabian history in the widest meaning of the word. Such a survey is not to be found, I believe, in any single European book; and if mine supply the want, however partially and inadequately, I shall feel that my labour has been amply rewarded.... As regards the choice of topics, I agree with the author of a famous anthology who declares that it is harder to select than compose (ikhtiyáru ’l-kalám aṣ‘abu min ta’lífihi). Perhaps an epitomist may be excused for not doing equal justice all round. To me the literary side of the subject appeals more than the historical, and I have followed my bent without hesitation; for in order to interest others a writer must first be interested himself.... Considering the importance of Arabic poetry as, in the main, a true mirror of Arabian life, I do not think the space devoted to it is excessive. Other branches of literature could not receive the same attention. Many an eminent writer has been dismissed in a few lines, many well-known names have been passed over. But, as before said, this work is a sketch of ideas in their historical environment rather than a record of authors, books, and dates. The exact transliteration of Arabic words, though superfluous for scholars and for persons entirely ignorant of the language, is an almost indispensable aid to the class of readers whom I have especially in view. My system is that recommended by the Royal Asiatic Society and adopted by Professor Browne in his Literary History of Persia; but I use ẓ for the letter which he denotes by dh. The definite article al, which is frequently omitted at the beginning of proper names, has been restored in the Index. It may save trouble if I mention here the abbreviations 'b.' for 'ibn' (son of); J.R.A.S. for Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society; Z.D.M.G. for Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft; and S.B.W.A. for Sitzungsberichte der Wiener Akademie. Finally, it behoves me to make full acknowledgment of my debt to the learned Orientalists whose works I have studied and freely 'conveyed' into these pages. References could not be given in every case, but the reader will see for himself how much is derived from Von Kremer, Goldziher, Nöldeke, and Wellhausen, to mention only a few of the leading authorities. At the same time I have constantly gone back to the native sources of information."

There remains an acknowledgment of a more personal kind. Twenty-two years ago I wrote—"my warmest thanks are due to my friend and colleague, Professor A. A. Bevan, who read the proofs throughout and made a number of valuable remarks which will be found in the footnotes." Happily the present occasion permits me to renew those ties between us; and the book which he helped into the world now celebrates its majority by associating itself with his name.

REYNOLD A. NICHOLSON
November 1, 1929

Frontispiece
Litigants before a Judge (British Museum Or. 1200)

Contents

Introduction

The Arabs belong to the great family of nations which on account of their supposed descent from Shem, the son of Noah, are commonly known as the 'Semites.' The Semites. This term includes the Babylonians and Assyrians, the Hebrews, the Phœnicians, the Aramæans, the Abyssinians, the Sabæans, and the Arabs, and although based on a classification that is not ethnologically precise—the Phœnicians and Sabæans, for example, being reckoned in Genesis, chap. x, among the descendants of Ham—it was well chosen by Eichhorn († 1827) to comprehend the closely allied peoples which have been named. Whether the original home of the undivided Semitic race was some part of Asia (Arabia, Armenia, or the district of the Lower Euphrates), or whether, according to a view which has lately found favour, the Semites crossed into Asia from Africa,[1] is still uncertain. Long before the epoch when they first appear in history they had branched off from the parent stock and formed separate nationalities. The relation of the Semitic languages to each other cannot be discussed here, but we may arrange them in the chronological order of the extant literature as follows:—[2]

1. Babylonian or Assyrian (3000-500 b.c.).

2. Hebrew (from 1500 b.c.).

3. South Arabic, otherwise called Sabæan or Ḥimyarite (inscriptions from 800 b.c.).

4. Aramaic (inscriptions from 800 b.c.).

5. Phœnician (inscriptions from 700 b.c.).

6. Æthiopic (inscriptions from 350 a.d.).

7. Arabic (from 500 a.d.).

Notwithstanding that Arabic is thus, in a sense, the youngest of the Semitic languages, it is generally allowed to be nearer akin than any of them to the original archetype, the 'Ursemitisch,' from which they all are derived, just as the Arabs, by reason of their geographical situation and the monotonous uniformity of desert life, have in some respects preserved the Semitic character more purely and exhibited it more distinctly than any people of the same family. From the period of the great Moslem conquests (700 a.d.) to the present day they have extended their language, The Arabs as representatives of the Semitic Race. religion, and culture over an enormous expanse of territory, far surpassing that of all the ancient Semitic empires added together. It is true that the Arabs are no longer what they were in the Middle Ages, the ruling nation of the world, but loss of temporal power has only strengthened their spiritual dominion. Islam still reigns supreme in Western Asia; in Africa it has steadily advanced; even on European soil it has found in Turkey compensation for its banishment from Spain and Sicily. While most of the Semitic peoples have vanished, leaving but a meagre and ambiguous record, so that we cannot hope to become intimately acquainted with them, we possess in the case of the Arabs ample materials for studying almost every phase of their development since the sixth century of the Christian era, and for writing the whole history of their national life and thought. This book, I need hardly say, makes no such pretensions. Even were the space at my disposal unlimited, a long time must elapse before the vast and various field of Arabic literature can be thoroughly explored and the results rendered accessible to the historian.

From time immemorial Arabia was divided into North and South, not only by the trackless desert (al-Rub‘ al-Khálí, the 'Solitary Quarter') which stretches across the Arabs of the North and South. peninsula and forms a natural barrier to intercourse, but also by the opposition of two kindred races widely differing in their character and way of life. Whilst the inhabitants of the northern province (the Ḥijáz and the great central highland of Najd) were rude nomads sheltering in 'houses of hair,' and ever shifting to and fro in search of pasture for their camels, the people of Yemen or Arabia Felix are first mentioned in history as the inheritors of an ancient civilisation and as the owners of fabulous wealth—spices, gold and precious stones—which ministered to the luxury of King Solomon. The Bedouins of the North spoke Arabic—that is to say, the language of the Pre-islamic poems and of the Koran—whereas the southerners used a dialect called by Muḥammadans 'Ḥimyarite' and a peculiar script of which the examples known to us have been discovered and deciphered in comparatively recent times. Of these Sabæans—to adopt the designation given to them by Greek and Roman geographers—more will be said presently. The period of their bloom was drawing to a close in the early centuries of our era, and they have faded out of history before 600 a.d., when their northern neighbours first rise into prominence.

It was, no doubt, the consciousness of this racial distinction Ishmaelites and Yoqṭánids. that caused the view to prevail among Moslem genealogists that the Arabs followed two separate lines of descent from their common ancestor, Sám b. Núḥ (Shem, the son of Noah). As regards those of the North, their derivation from ‘Adnán, a descendant of Ismá‘íl (Ishmael) was universally recognised; those of the South were traced back to Qaḥṭán, whom most genealogists identified with Yoqṭán (Joktan), the son of ‘Ábir (Eber). Under the Yoqṭánids, who are the elder line, we find, together with the Sabæans and Ḥimyarites, several large and powerful tribes—e.g., Ṭayyi’, Kinda, and Tanúkh—which had settled in North and Central Arabia long before Islam, and were in no respect distinguishable from the Bedouins of Ishmaelite origin. As to ‘Adnán, his exact genealogy is disputed, but all agree that he was of the posterity of Ismá‘íl (Ishmael), the son of Ibráhím (Abraham) by Hájar (Hagar). The story runs that on the birth of Ismá‘íl God commanded Abraham to journey to Mecca with Hagar and her son and to leave them there. They were seen by some Jurhumites, descendants of Yoqṭán, who took pity on them and resolved to settle beside them. Ismá‘íl grew up with the sons of the strangers, learned to shoot the bow, and spoke their tongue. Then he asked of them in marriage, and they married him to one of their women.[3] The tables on the opposite page show the principal branches of the younger but by far the more important family of the Arabs which traced its pedigree through ‘Adnán to Ismá‘íl. A dotted line indicates the omission of one or more links in the genealogical chain.[4]

It is undeniable that these lineages are to some extent fictitious. There was no Pre-islamic science of genealogy, so that the first Muḥammadan investigators had only confused and scanty traditions to work on. They were biassed, moreover, by political, religious, and other considerations.[6] Thus their study of the Koran Character of Muḥammadan genealogy. and of Biblical history led to the introduction of the patriarchs who stand at the head of their lists. Nor can we accept the national genealogy beginning with ‘Adnán as entirely historical, though a great deal of it was actually stored in the memories of the Arabs at the time when Islam arose, and is corroborated by the testimony of the Pre-islamic poets.[7] On the other hand, the alleged descent of every tribe from an eponymous ancestor is inconsistent with facts established by modern research.[8] It is probable that many names represent merely a local or accidental union; and many more, e.g., Ma‘add, seem originally to have denoted large groups or confederations of tribes. The theory of a radical difference between the Northern Arabs and those of the South, corresponding to the fierce hostility which has always divided them since the earliest days of Islam,[9] may hold good if we restrict the term 'Yemenite' (Southern) to the civilised Sabæans, Ḥimyarites, &c., who dwelt in Yemen and spoke their own dialect, but can hardly apply to the Arabic-speaking 'Yemenite' Bedouins scattered all over the peninsula. Such criticism, however, does not affect the value of the genealogical documents regarded as an index of the popular mind. From this point of view legend is often superior to fact, and it must be our aim in the following chapters to set forth what the Arabs believed rather than to examine whether or no they were justified in believing it.

'Arabic,' in its widest signification, has two principal dialects:—

1. South Arabic, spoken in Yemen and including Sabæan, Ḥimyarite, Minæan, with the kindred dialects of Mahra and Shiḥr.

2. Arabic proper, spoken in Arabia generally, exclusive of Yemen.

Of the former language, leaving Mahrí, Socotrí, and other living dialects out of account, we possess nothing beyond the numerous inscriptions which have been collected South Arabic. by European travellers and which it will be convenient to discuss in the next chapter, where I shall give a brief sketch of the legendary history of the Sabæans and Ḥimyarites. South Arabic resembles Arabic in its grammatical forms, e.g., the broken plural, the sign of the dual, and the manner of denoting indefiniteness by an affixed m (for which Arabic substitutes n) as well as in its vocabulary; its alphabet, which consists of twenty-nine letters, Sin and Samech being distinguished as in Hebrew, is more nearly akin to the Æthiopic. The Ḥimyarite Empire was overthrown by the Abyssinians in the sixth century after Christ, and by 600 a.d. South Arabic had become a dead language. From this time forward the dialect of the North established an almost universal supremacy and won for itself the title of 'Arabic' par excellence.[10]

The oldest monuments of written Arabic are modern in date compared with the Sabæan inscriptions, some of which take us back 2,500 years or thereabout. Apart The oldest specimens of Arabic writing. from the inscriptions of Ḥijr in the northern Ḥijáz, and those of Ṣafá in the neighbourhood of Damascus (which, although written by northern Arabs before the Christian era, exhibit a peculiar character not unlike the Sabæan and cannot be called Arabic in the usual acceptation of the term), the most ancient examples of Arabic writing which have hitherto been discovered appear in the trilingual (Syriac, Greek, and Arabic) inscription of Zabad,[11] south-east of Aleppo, dated 512 or 513 a.d., and the bilingual (Greek and Arabic) of Ḥarrán,[12] dated 568 a.d. With these documents we need not concern ourselves further, especially as their interpretation presents great difficulties. Very few among the Pre-islamic Arabs were able to read or write.[13] Those who could generally owed their skill to Jewish and Christian teachers, or to the influence of foreign culture radiating from Ḥíra and Ghassán. But although the Koran, which was first collected soon after the battle of Yamáma (633 a.d.), is the oldest Arabic book, the beginnings of literary composition in the Arabic language can be traced back to an earlier period. Probably all the Pre-islamic poems which have come down to us belong to the century preceding Islam (500-622 a.d.), but their elaborate form and technical perfection forbid the hypothesis that in them we have "the first sprightly runnings" of Arabian song. It may be said of these magnificent odes, as of the Iliad and The Pre-islamic poems. Odyssey, that "they are works of highly finished art, which could not possibly have been produced until the poetical art had been practised for a long time." They were preserved during hundreds of years by oral tradition, as we shall explain elsewhere, and were committed to writing, for the most part, by the Moslem scholars of the early ‘Abbásid age, i.e., between 750 and 900 a.d. It is a noteworthy fact that the language of these poems, the authors of which represent many different tribes and districts of the peninsula, is one and the same. The dialectical variations are too trivial to be taken into account. We might conclude that the poets used an artificial dialect, not such as was commonly spoken but resembling the epic dialect of Ionia which was borrowed by Dorian and Æolian bards. When we find, however, that the language in question is employed not only by the wandering troubadours, who were often men of some culture, and the Christian Arabs of Ḥíra on the Euphrates, but also by goat-herds, brigands, and illiterate Bedouins of every description, there can be no room for doubt that in the poetry of the sixth century we hear the Arabic language as it was then spoken throughout the length and breadth of Arabia. The success of Muḥammad and the conquests made by Islam under the Orthodox Caliphs gave an entirely new importance to this classical idiom. Arabic became the sacred language of the whole Moslem world. This was certainly due to the Koran; but, on The Koran. the other hand, to regard the dialect of Mecca, in which the Koran is written, as the source and prototype of the Arabic language, and to call Arabic 'the dialect of Quraysh,' is utterly to reverse the true facts of the case. Muḥammad, as Nöldeke has observed, took the ancient poetry for a model; and in the early age of Islam it was the authority of the heathen poets (of whom Quraysh had singularly few) that determined the classical usage and set the standard of correct speech. Moslems, who held the Koran to be the Word of God and inimitable in point of style, naturally exalted the dialect of the Prophet's tribe above all others, even laying down the rule that every tribe spoke less purely in proportion to its distance from Mecca, but this view will not commend itself to the unprejudiced student. The Koran, however, exercised a unique influence on the history of the Arabic language and literature. We shall see in a subsequent chapter that the necessity of preserving the text of the Holy Book uncorrupted, and of elucidating its obscurities, caused the Moslems to invent a science of grammar and lexicography, and to collect the old Pre-Muḥammadan poetry and traditions which must otherwise have perished. When the Arabs settled as conquerors in Syria and Persia and mixed with foreign peoples, the purity of the classical language could no longer be maintained. While in Arabia itself, especially among the nomads of the desert, little difference was felt, in the provincial garrison towns and great centres of industry like Baṣra and Kúfa, where the population largely consisted of aliens who had embraced Islam and were rapidly being Arabicised, the door stood open for all sorts of depravation to creep in. Against this vulgar Arabic the Arabic in the Muḥammadan Empire. philologists waged unrelenting war, and it was mainly through their exertions that the classical idiom triumphed over the dangers to which it was exposed. Although the language of the pagan Bedouins did not survive intact—or survived, at any rate, only in the mouths of pedants and poets—it became, in a modified form, the universal medium of expression among the upper classes of Muḥammadan society. During the early Middle Ages it was spoken and written by all cultivated Moslems, of whatever nationality they might be, from the Indus to the Atlantic; it was the language of the Court and the Church, of Law and Commerce, of Diplomacy and Literature and Science. When the Mongol invasion in the thirteenth century swept away the ‘Abbásid Caliphate, and therewith the last vestige of political unity in Islam, classical Arabic ceased to be the κοινή or 'common dialect' of the Moslem world, and was supplanted in Arabia, Syria, Egypt, and other Arabic-speaking countries by a vulgar colloquial idiom. In these countries, however, it is still the language of business, literature, and education, and we are told on high authority that even now it "is undergoing a renaissance, and there is every likelihood of its again becoming a great literary vehicle."[14] And if, for those Moslems who are not Arabs, it occupies relatively much the same position as Latin and Greek in modern European culture, we must not forget that the Koran, its most renowned masterpiece, is learned by every Moslem when he first goes to school, is repeated in his daily prayers, and influences the whole course of his life to an extent which the ordinary Christian can hardly realise.

I hope that I may be excused for ignoring in a work such as this the information regarding Ancient Arabian history which it is possible to glean from the Babylonian and Assyrian monuments. Any sketch that might be drawn of the Arabs, say from 2500 b.c. to the beginning of our era, would resemble a map of Cathay delineated by Sir John Mandeville. But amongst the shadowy peoples of the peninsula one, besides Saba and Ḥimyar, makes something more than a transient impression. The Nabaṭæans (Nabaṭ, pl. Anbáṭ) dwelt in towns, drove a flourishing trade long before the birth of Christ, and founded the kingdom of Petra, which attained a high The Nabaṭæans. degree of prosperity and culture until it was annexed by Trajan in 105 a.d. These Nabaṭæans were Arabs and spoke Arabic, although in default of a script of their own they used Aramaic for writing.[15] Muḥammadan authors identify them with the Aramæans, but careful study of their inscriptions has shown that this view, which was accepted by Quatremère,[16] is erroneous. 'The Book of Nabaṭæan Agriculture' (Kitábu ’l-Faláḥat al-Nahaṭiyya), composed in 904 a.d. by the Moslem Ibnu ’l-Waḥshiyya, who professed to have translated it from the Chaldæan, is now known to be a forgery. I only mention it here as an instance of the way in which Moslems apply the term 'Nabaṭæan'; for the title in question does not, of course, refer to Petra but to Babylon.

From what has been said the reader will perceive that the Three periods of Arabian history.history of the Arabs, so far as our knowledge of it is derived from Arabic sources, may be divided into the following periods:—

For the first period, which is confined to the history of Yemen or South Arabia, we have no contemporary Arabic sources except the inscriptions. The valuable but imperfect The Sabæans and Ḥimyarites. information which these supply is appreciably increased by the traditions preserved in the Pre-islamic poems, in the Koran, and particularly in the later Muḥammadan literature. It is true that most of this material is legendary and would justly be ignored by any one engaged in historical research, but I shall nevertheless devote a good deal of space to it, since my principal object is to make known the beliefs and opinions of the Arabs themselves.

The second period is called by Muḥammadan writers the Jáhiliyya, i.e., the Age of Ignorance or Barbarism.[17] Its characteristics are faithfully and vividly reflected in the songs and odes of the heathen poets which The pagan Arabs. have come down to us. There was no prose literature at that time: it was the poet's privilege to sing the history of his own people, to record their genealogies, to celebrate their feats of arms, and to extol their virtues. Although an immense quantity of Pre-islamic verse has been lost for ever, we still possess a considerable remnant, which, together with the prose narratives compiled by Moslem philologists and antiquaries, enables us to picture the life of those wild days, in its larger aspects, accurately enough.

The last and by far the most important of the three periods comprises the history of the Arabs under Islam. It falls naturally into the following sections, which are The Moslem Arabs. enumerated in this place in order that the reader may see at a glance the broad political outlines of the complex and difficult epoch which lies before him.

A. The Life of Muḥammad.

About the beginning of the seventh century of the Christian era a man named Muḥammad, son of ‘Abdulláh, of the tribe Quraysh, appeared in Mecca with a Divine Life of Muḥammad. revelation (Koran). He called on his fellow-townsmen to renounce idolatry and worship the One God. In spite of ridicule and persecution he continued for several years to preach the religion of Islam in Mecca, but, making little progress there, he fled in 622 a.d. to the neighbouring city of Medína. From this date his cause prospered exceedingly. During the next decade the whole of Arabia submitted to his rule and did lip-service at least to the new Faith.

B. The Orthodox Caliphate (632-661 a.d.).

On the death of the Prophet the Moslems were governed in turn by four of the most eminent among his Companions—Abú Bakr, ‘Umar, ‘Uthmán, and ‘Alí—who bore The Orthodox Caliphs. the title of Khalífa (Caliph), i.e., Vicegerent, and are commonly described as the Orthodox Caliphs (al-Khulafá al-Ráshidún). Under their guidance Islam was firmly established in the peninsula and was spread far beyond its borders. Hosts of Bedouins settled as military colonists in the fertile plains of Syria and Persia. Soon, however, the recently founded empire was plunged into civil war. The murder of ‘Uthmán gave the signal for a bloody strife between rival claimants of the Caliphate. ‘Alí, the son-in-law of the Prophet, assumed the title, but his election was contested by the powerful governor of Syria, Mu‘áwiya b. Abí Sufyán.

C. The Umayyad Dynasty (661-750 a.d.).

‘Alí fell by an assassin's dagger, and Mu‘áwiya succeeded to the Caliphate, which remained in his family for ninety years. The Umayyads, with a single exception, were The Umayyad dynasty. Arabs first and Moslems afterwards. Religion sat very lightly on them, but they produced some able and energetic princes, worthy leaders of an imperial race. By 732 a.d. the Moslem conquests had reached the utmost limit which they ever attained. The Caliph in Damascus had his lieutenants beyond the Oxus and the Pyrenees, on the shores of the Caspian and in the valley of the Nile. Meantime the strength of the dynasty was being sapped by political and religious dissensions nearer home. The Shí‘ites, who held that the Caliphate belonged by Divine right to ‘Alí and his descendants, rose in revolt again and again. They were joined by the Persian Moslems, who loathed the Arabs and the oppressive Umayyad government. The ‘Abbásids, a family closely related to the Prophet, put themselves at the head of the agitation. It ended in the complete overthrow of the reigning house, which was almost exterminated.

D. The ‘Abbásid Dynasty (750-1258 a.d.).

Hitherto the Arabs had played a dominant rôle in the Moslem community, and had treated the non-Arab Moslems with exasperating contempt. Now the tables were The ‘Abbásid dynasty.turned. We pass from the period of Arabian nationalism to one of Persian ascendancy and cosmopolitan culture. The flower of the ‘Abbásid troops were Persians from Khurásán; Baghdád, the wonderful ‘Abbásid capital, was built on Persian soil; and Persian nobles filled the highest offices of state at the ‘Abbásid court. The new dynasty, if not religious, was at least favourable to religion, and took care to live in the odour of sanctity. For a time Arabs and Persians forgot their differences and worked together as good Moslems ought. Piety was no longer its own reward. Learning enjoyed munificent patronage. This was the Golden Age of Islam, which culminated in the glorious reign of Hárún al-Rashíd (786-809 a.d.). On his death peace was broken once more, and the mighty empire began slowly to collapse. As province after province cut itself loose from the Caliphate, numerous independent dynasties sprang up, while the Caliphs became helpless puppets in the hands of Turkish mercenaries. Their authority was still formally recognised in most Muḥammadan countries, but since the middle of the ninth century they had little or no real power.

E. From the Mongol invasion to the present day (1258 a.d.—).

The Mongol hordes under Húlágú captured Baghdád in 1258 a.d. and made an end of the Caliphate. Sweeping onward, they were checked by the Egyptian The Post-Mongolian period. Mamelukes and retired into Persia, where, some fifty years afterwards, they embraced Islam. The successors of Húlágú, the Íl-kháns, reigned in Persia until a second wave of barbarians under Tímúr spread devastation and anarchy through Western Asia (1380-1405 a.d.). The unity of Islam, in a political sense, was now destroyed. Out of the chaos three Muḥammadan empires gradually took shape. In 1358 the Ottoman Turks crossed the Hellespont, in 1453 they entered Constantinople, and in 1517 Syria, Egypt, and Arabia were added to their dominions. Persia became an independent kingdom under the Ṣafawids (1502-1736); while in India the empire of the Great Moguls was founded by Bábur, a descendant of Tímúr, and gloriously maintained by his successors, Akbar and Awrangzíb (1525-1707).

Some of the political events which have been summarised above will be treated more fully in the body of this work; others will receive no more than a passing notice. The ideas which reveal themselves in Arabic Arabian literary history. literature are so intimately connected with the history of the people, and so incomprehensible apart from the external circumstances in which they arose, that I have found myself obliged to dwell at considerable length on various matters of historical interest, in order to bring out what is really characteristic and important from our special point of view. The space devoted to the early periods (500-750 a.d.) will not appear excessive if they are seen in their true light as the centre and heart of Arabian history. During the next hundred years Moslem civilisation reaches its zenith, but the Arabs recede more and more into the background. The Mongol invasion virtually obliterated their national life, though in Syria and Egypt they maintained their traditions of culture under Turkish rule, and in Spain we meet them struggling desperately against Christendom. Many centuries earlier, in the palmy days of the ‘Abbásid Empire, the Arabs pur sang contributed only a comparatively small share to the literature which bears their name. I have not, however, enforced the test of nationality so strictly as to exclude all foreigners or men of mixed origin who wrote in Arabic. It may be said that the work of Persians (who even nowadays Writers who are wholly or partly of foreign extraction. are accustomed to use Arabic when writing on theological and philosophical subjects) cannot illustrate the history of Arabian thought, but only the influence exerted upon Arabian thought by Persian ideas, and that consequently it must stand aside unless admitted for this definite purpose. But what shall we do in the case of those numerous and celebrated authors who are neither wholly Arab nor wholly Persian, but unite the blood of both races? Must we scrutinise their genealogies and try to discover which strain preponderates? That would be a tedious and unprofitable task. The truth is that after the Umayyad period no hard-and-fast line can be drawn between the native and foreign elements in Arabic literature. Each reacted on the other, and often both are combined indissolubly. Although they must be distinguished as far as possible, we should be taking a narrow and pedantic view of literary history if we insisted on regarding them as mutually exclusive.

CHAPTER I

SABA AND ḤIMYAR

With the Sabæans Arabian history in the proper sense may be said to begin, but as a preliminary step we must take account of certain races which figure more or less Primitive races. prominently in legend, and are considered by Moslem chroniclers to have been the original inhabitants of the country. Among these are the peoples of ‘Ád and Thamúd, which are constantly held up in the Koran as terrible examples of the pride that goeth before destruction. The home of the ‘Ádites was in Ḥaḍramawt, the province adjoining Yemen, on the borders of the desert named Aḥqáfu ’l'Raml. It is doubtful whether they were Semites, possibly of Aramaic descent, who were subdued and exterminated by invaders from the north, or, as Hommel maintains,[18] the representatives of an imposing non-Semitic Legend of ‘Ad.culture which survives in the tradition of 'Many-columned Iram,'[19] the Earthly Paradise built by Shaddád, one of their kings. The story of their destruction is related as follows:[20] They were a people of gigantic strength and stature, worshipping idols and committing all manner of wrong; and when God sent to them a prophet, Húd by name, who should warn them to repent, they answered: "O Húd, thou hast brought us no evidence, and we will not abandon our gods for thy saying, nor will we believe in thee. We say one of our gods hath afflicted thee with madness."[21] Then a fearful drought fell upon the land of ‘Ád, so that they sent a number of their chief men to Mecca to pray for rain. On arriving at Mecca the envoys were hospitably received by the Amalekite prince, Mu‘áwiya b. Bakr, who entertained them with wine and music—for he had two famous singing-girls known as al-Jarádatán; which induced them to neglect their mission for the space of a whole month. At last, however, they got to business, and their spokesman had scarce finished his prayer when three clouds appeared, of different colours—white, red, and black—and a voice cried from heaven, "Choose for thyself and for thy people!" He chose the black cloud, deeming that it had the greatest store of rain, whereupon the voice chanted—

"Thou hast chosen embers dun | that will spare of ‘Ád not one | that will leave nor father nor son | ere him to death they shall have done."

Then God drove the cloud until it stood over the land of ‘Ád, and there issued from it a roaring wind that consumed the whole people except a few who had taken the prophet's warning to heart and had renounced idolatry.

From these, in course of time, a new people arose, who are called 'the second ‘Ád.' They had their settlements in Yemen, in the region of Saba. The building of the great Dyke of Ma’rib is commonly attributed to their king, Luqmán b. ‘Ád, about whom many fables are told. He was surnamed 'The Man of the Vultures' (Dhu ’l-Nusúr), because it had been granted to him that he should live as long as seven vultures, one after the other.

In North Arabia, between the Ḥijáz and Syria, dwelt the kindred race of Thamúd, described in the Koran (vii, 72) as inhabiting houses which they cut for themselves Legend of Thamúd. in the rocks. Evidently Muḥammad did not know the true nature of the hewn chambers which are still to be seen at Ḥijr (Madá’in Ṣáliḥ), a week's journey northward from Medína, and which are proved by the Nabaṭæan inscriptions engraved on them to have been sepulchral monuments.[22] Thamúd sinned in the same way as ‘Ád, and suffered a like fate. They scouted the prophet Ṣáliḥ, refusing to believe in him unless he should work a miracle. Ṣáliḥ then caused a she-camel big with young to come forth from a rock, and bade them do her no hurt, but one of the miscreants, Qudár the Red (al-Aḥmar), hamstrung and killed her. "Whereupon a great earthquake overtook them with a noise of thunder, and in the morning they lay dead in their houses, flat upon their breasts."[23] The author of this catastrophe became a byword: Arabs say, "More unlucky than the hamstringer of the she-camel," or "than Aḥmar of Thamúd." It should be pointed out that, unlike the ‘Ádites, of whom we find no trace in historical times, the Thamúdites are mentioned as still existing by Diodorus Siculus and Ptolemy; and they survived down to the fifth century a.d. in the corps of equites Thamudeni attached to the army of the Byzantine emperors.

Besides ‘Ád and Thamúd, the list of primitive races includes the ‘Amálíq (Amalekites)—a purely fictitious term under which the Moslem antiquaries lumped ‘Amálíq.together several peoples of an age long past, e.g., the Canaanites and the Philistines. We hear of Amalekite settlements in the Tiháma (Netherland) of Mecca and in other parts of the peninsula. Finally, mention should be made of Ṭasm and Jadís, sister tribes of which nothing is recorded except the fact of their destruction and the events that brought it about. The legendary Ṭasm and Jadís. narrative in which these are embodied has some archæological interest as showing the existence in early Arabian society of a barbarous feudal custom, 'le droit du seigneur,' but it is time to pass on to the main subject of this chapter.

The Pre-islamic history of the Yoqṭánids, or Southern Arabs, on which we now enter, is virtually the history of History of the Yoqṭánids. two peoples, the Sabæans and the Ḥimyarites, who formed the successive heads of a South Arabian empire extending from the Red Sea to the Persian Gulf.

Saba[24] (Sheba of the Old Testament) is often incorrectly used to denote the whole of Arabia Felix, whereas it was only one, though doubtless the first in power and The Sabæans. importance, of several kingdoms, the names and capitals of which are set down in the works of Greek and Roman geographers. However exaggerated may be the glowing accounts that we find there of Sabæan wealth and magnificence, it is certain that Saba was a flourishing commercial state many centuries before the birth of Christ.[25] "Sea-traffic between the ports of East Arabia and India was very early established, and Indian products, especially spices and rare animals (apes and peacocks) were conveyed to the coast of ‘Umán. Thence, apparently even in the tenth century b.c., they went overland to the Arabian Gulf, where they were shipped to Egypt for the use of the Pharaohs and grandees.... The difficulty of navigating the Red Sea caused the land route to be preferred for the traffic between Yemen and Syria. From Shabwat (Sabota) in Ḥaḍramawt the caravan road went to Ma’rib (Mariaba), the Sabæan capital, then northward to Macoraba (the later Mecca), and by way of Petra to Gaza on the Mediterranean."[26] The prosperity of the Sabæans lasted until the Indian trade, instead of going overland, began to go by sea along the coast of Ḥaḍramawt and through the straits of Báb al-Mandab. In consequence of this change, which seems to have taken place in the first century a.d., their power gradually declined, a great part of the population was forced to seek new homes in the north, their cities became desolate, and their massive aqueducts crumbled to pieces. We shall see presently that Arabian legend has crystallised the results of a long period of decay into a single fact—the bursting of the Dyke of Ma’rib.

The disappearance of the Sabæans left the way open for a younger branch of the same stock, namely, the Ḥimyarites, or, as they are called by classical authors, The Ḥimyarites. Homeritæ, whose country lay between Saba and the sea. Under their kings, known as Tubba‘s, they soon became the dominant power in South Arabia and exercised sway, at least ostensibly, over the northern tribes down to the end of the fifth century a.d., when the latter revolted and, led by Kulayb b. Rabí‘a, shook off the suzerainty of Yemen in a great battle at Khazázá.[27] The Ḥimyarites never flourished like the Sabæans. Their maritime situation exposed them more to attack, while the depopulation of the country had seriously weakened their military strength. The Abyssinians—originally colonists from Yemen—made repeated attempts to gain a foothold, and frequently managed to instal governors who were in turn expelled by native princes. Of these Abyssinian viceroys the most famous is Abraha, whose unfortunate expedition against Mecca will be related in due course. Ultimately the Ḥimyarite Empire was reduced to a Persian dependency. It had ceased to exist as a political power about a hundred years before the rise of Islam.

The chief Arabian sources of information concerning Saba and Ḥimyar are (1) the so-called 'Ḥimyarite' inscriptions, Sources of information. and (2) the traditions, almost entirely of a legendary kind, which are preserved in Muḥammadan literature.

Although the South Arabic language may have maintained itself sporadically in certain remote districts down to the Prophet's time or even later, it had long ago been superseded as a medium of daily intercourse by The South Arabic or Sabæan inscriptions. the language of the North, the Arabic par excellence, which henceforth reigns without a rival throughout the peninsula. The dead language, however, did not wholly perish. Already in the sixth century a.d. the Bedouin rider made his camel kneel down while he stopped to gaze wonderingly at inscriptions in a strange character engraved on walls of rock or fragments of hewn stone, and compared the mysterious, half-obliterated markings to the almost unrecognisable traces of the camping-ground which for him was fraught with tender memories. These inscriptions are often mentioned by Muḥammadan authors, who included them in the term Musnad. That some Moslems—probably very few—could not only read the South Arabic alphabet, but were also acquainted with the elementary rules of orthography, appears from a passage in the eighth book of Hamdání's Iklíl; but though they might decipher proper names and make out the sense of words here and there, they had no real knowledge of the language. How the inscriptions were discovered anew by the enterprise of European travellers, gradually deciphered and interpreted until they became capable of serving as a basis for historical research, and what results the study of them has produced, this I shall now set forth as briefly as possible. Before doing so it is necessary to explain why instead of 'Ḥimyarite inscriptions' and 'Ḥimyarite language' I have adopted the less familiar designations 'South Arabic' or 'Sabæan.' 'Ḥimyarite' is equally misleading, whether applied to the language of the inscriptions or to the inscriptions themselves. As regards the language, it was spoken in one form or another not by the Objections to the term 'Ḥimyarite.' Ḥimyarites alone, but also by the Sabæans, the Minæans, and all the different peoples of Yemen. Muḥammadans gave the name of 'Ḥimyarite' to the ancient language of Yemen for the simple reason that the Ḥimyarites were the most powerful race in that country during the last centuries preceding Islam. Had all the inscriptions belonged to the period of Ḥimyarite supremacy, they might with some justice have been named after the ruling people; but the fact is that many date from a far earlier age, some going back to the eighth century b.c., perhaps nearly a thousand years before the Ḥimyarite Empire was established. The term 'Sabæan' is less open to objection, for it may fairly be regarded as a national rather than a political denomination. On the whole, however, I prefer 'South Arabic' to either.

Among the pioneers of exploration in Yemen the first to interest himself in the discovery of inscriptions was Carsten Niebuhr, whose Beschreibung von Arabien, published in 1772, conveyed to Europe the report Discovery and decipherment of the South Arabic inscriptions. that inscriptions which, though he had not seen them, he conjectured to be 'Ḥimyarite,' existed in the ruins of the once famous city of Ẓafár. On one occasion a Dutchman who had turned Muḥammadan showed him the copy of an inscription in a completely unknown alphabet, but "at that time (he says) being very ill with a violent fever, I had more reason to prepare myself for death than to collect old inscriptions."[28] Thus the opportunity was lost, but curiosity had been awakened, and in 1810 Ulrich Jasper Seetzen discovered and copied several inscriptions in the neighbourhood of Ẓafár. Unfortunately these copies, which had to be made hastily, were very inexact. He also purchased an inscription, which he took away with him and copied at leisure, but his ignorance of the characters led him to mistake the depressions in the stone for letters, so that the conclusions he came to were naturally of no value.[29] The first serviceable copies of South Arabic inscriptions were brought to Europe by English officers employed on the survey of the southern and western coasts of Arabia. Lieutenant J. R. Wellsted published the inscriptions of Ḥiṣn Ghuráb and Naqb al-Ḥajar in his Travels in Arabia (1838).

Meanwhile Emil Rödiger, Professor of Oriental Languages at Halle, with the help of two manuscripts of the Berlin Royal Library containing 'Ḥimyarite' alphabets, took the first step towards a correct decipherment by refuting the idea, for which De Sacy's authority had gained general acceptance, that the South Arabic script ran from left to right[30]; he showed, moreover, that the end of every word was marked by a straight perpendicular line.[31] Wellsted's inscriptions, together with those which Hulton and Cruttenden brought to light at Ṣan‘á, were deciphered by Gesenius and Rödiger working independently (1841). Hitherto England and Germany had shared the credit of discovery, but a few years later France joined hands with them and was soon leading the way with characteristic brilliance. In 1843 Th. Arnaud, starting from Ṣan‘á, succeeded in discovering the ruins of Ma’rib, the ancient Sabæan metropolis, and in copying at the risk of his life between fifty and sixty inscriptions, which were afterwards published in the Journal Asiatique and found an able interpreter in Osiander.[32] Still more important were the results of the expedition undertaken in 1870 by the Jewish scholar, Joseph Halévy, who penetrated into the Jawf, or country lying east of Ṣan‘á, which no European had traversed before him since 24 b.c., when Ælius Gallus led a Roman army by the same route. After enduring great fatigues and meeting with many perilous adventures, Halévy brought back copies of nearly seven hundred inscriptions.[33] During the last twenty-five years much fresh material has been collected by E. Glaser and Julius Euting, while study of that already existing by Prætorius, Halévy, D. H. Müller, Mordtmann, and other scholars has substantially enlarged our knowledge of the language, history, and religion of South Arabia in the Pre-islamic age.

Neither the names of the Ḥimyarite monarchs, as they appear in the lists drawn up by Muḥammadan historians, nor the order in which these names are arranged can pretend to accuracy. If they are historical persons at all they must have reigned in fairly recent times, perhaps a short while before the rise of Islam, and probably they were unimportant princes whom the legend has thrown back into the ancient epoch, and has invested with heroic attributes. Any one who doubts this has only to compare the modern lists with those which have been made from the material in the inscriptions.[34] D. H. Müller has collected the names of thirty-three Minæan kings. Certain names are often repeated—a proof of the existence of ruling dynasties—and ornamental epithets are The historical value of the inscriptions. usually attached to them. Thus we find Dhamar‘alí Dhirríḥ (Glorious), Yatha‘amar Bayyin (Distinguished), Kariba’íl Watár Yuhan‘im (Great, Beneficent), Samah‘alí Yanúf (Exalted). Moreover, the kings bear different titles corresponding to three distinct periods of South Arabian history, viz., 'Priest-king of Saba' (Mukarrib Saba),[35] 'King of Saba' (Malk Saba), and 'King of Saba and Raydán.' In this way it is possible to determine approximately the age of the various buildings and inscriptions, and to show that they do not belong, as had hitherto been generally supposed, to the time of Christ, but that in some cases they are at least eight hundred years older.

How widely the peaceful, commerce-loving people of Saba and Ḥimyar differed in character from the wild Arabs to whom Muḥammad was sent appears most strikingly Votive inscriptions. in their submissive attitude towards their gods, which forms, as Goldziher has remarked, the keynote of the South Arabian monuments.[36] The prince erects a thank-offering to the gods who gave him victory over his enemies; the priest dedicates his children and all his possessions; the warrior who has been blessed with "due man-slayings," or booty, or escape from death records his gratitude, and piously hopes for a continuance of favour. The dead are conceived as living happily under divine protection; they are venerated and sometimes deified.[37] The following inscription, translated by Lieut.-Col. W. F. Prideaux, is a typical example of its class:—

"Sa‘d-iláh and his sons, Benú Marthad^im, have endowed Il-Maḳah of Hirrán with this tablet, because Il-Maḳah, lord of Awwám Dhú-‘Irán Alú, has favourably heard the prayer addressed to him, and has consequently heard the Benú Marthad^im when they offered the first-fruits of their fertile lands of Arhaḳim in the presence of Il-Maḳah of Hirrán, and Il-Maḳah of Hirrán has favourably heard the prayer addressed to him that he would protect the plains and meadows and this tribe in their habitations, in consideration of the frequent gifts throughout the year; and truly his (Sa‘d-iláh's) sons will descend to Arhaḳim, and they will indeed sacrifice in the two shrines of ‘Athtor and Shams^im, and there shall be a sacrifice in Hirrán—both in order that Il-Maḳah may afford protection to those fields of Bin Marthad^im as well as that he may favourably listen—and in the sanctuary of Il-Maḳah of Ḥarwat, and therefore may he keep them in safety according to the sign in which Sa‘d-iláh was instructed, the sign which he saw in the sanctuary of Il-Maḳah of Na‘mán; and as for Il-Maḳah of Hirrán, he has protected those fertile lands of Arhaḳim from hail and from all misfortune (or, from cold and from all extreme heat)."[38]

In concluding this very inadequate account of the South Arabic inscriptions I must claim the indulgence of my readers, who are aware how difficult it is to write clearly and accurately upon any subject without first-hand knowledge, in particular when the results of previous research are continually being transformed by new workers in the same field.

Fortunately we possess a considerable literary supplement to these somewhat austere and meagre remains. Our knowledge of South Arabian geography, antiquities, and Literary sources. legendary history is largely derived from the works of two natives of Yemen, who were filled with enthusiasm for its ancient glories, and whose writings, though different as fact and fable, are from the present point of view equally instructive—Ḥasan b. Aḥmad al-Hamdání and Nashwán b. Sa‘íd al-Ḥimyarí. Besides an excellent geography of Arabia (Ṣifatu Jazírat al-‘Arab), which has been edited by Hamdání († 945 a.d.).D. H. Müller, Hamdání left a great work on history and antiquities of Yemen, entitled al-Iklíl ('The Crown'), and divided into ten books under the following heads:—[39]

Book I. Compendium of the beginning and origins of genealogy.

Book II. Genealogy of the descendants of al-Hamaysa‘ b. Ḥimyar.

Book III. Concerning the pre-eminent qualities of Qaḥṭán.

Book IV. Concerning the first period of history down to the reign of Tubba‘ Abú Karib.

Book V. Concerning the middle period from the accession of As‘ad Tubba‘ to the reign of Dhú Nuwás.

Book VI. Concerning the last period down to the rise of Islam.

Book VII. Criticism of false traditions and absurd legends.

Book VIII. Concerning the castles, cities, and tombs of the Ḥimyarites; the extant poetry of ‘Alqama,[40] the elegies, the inscriptions, and other matters.

Book IX. Concerning the proverbs and wisdom of the Ḥimyarites in the Ḥimyarite language, and concerning the alphabet of the inscriptions.

Book X. Concerning the genealogy of Ḥáshid and Bakíl (the two principal tribes of Hamdán).

The same intense patriotism which caused Hamdání to devote himself to scientific research inspired Nashwán b. Sa‘íd, who descended on the father's side from one of the Nashwán b. Sa‘íd al-Ḥimyarí († 1177 a.d.). ancient princely families of Yemen, to recall the legendary past and become the laureate of a long vanished and well-nigh forgotten empire. In 'The Ḥimyarite Ode' (al-Qaṣídatu ’l-Ḥimyariyya) he sings the might and grandeur of the monarchs who ruled over his people, and moralises in true Muḥammadan spirit upon the fleetingness of life and the futility of human ambition.[41] Accompanying the Ode, which has little value except as a comparatively unfalsified record of royal names,[42] is a copious historical commentary either by Nashwán himself, as Von Kremer thinks highly probable, or by some one who lived about the same time. Those for whom history represents an aggregate of naked facts would find nothing to the purpose in this commentary, where threads of truth are almost inextricably interwoven with fantastic and fabulous embroideries. A literary form was first given to such legends by the professional story-tellers of early Islam. One of these, the South Arabian ‘Abíd b. Sharya, visited Damascus by command of the Caliph Mu‘áwiya I, who questioned him "concerning ‘Abíd b. Sharya. the ancient traditions, the kings of the Arabs and other races, the cause of the confusion of tongues, and the history of the dispersion of mankind in the various countries of the world,"[43] and gave orders that his answers should be put together in writing and published under his name. This work, of which unfortunately no copy has come down to us, was entitled 'The Book of the Kings and the History of the Ancients' (Kitábu ’l-Mulúk wa-akhbáru ’l-Máḍín). Mas‘údí († 956 a.d.) speaks of it as a well-known book, enjoying a wide circulation.[44] It was used by the commentator of the Ḥimyarite Ode, either at first hand or through the medium of Hamdání's Iklíl. We may regard it, like the commentary itself, as a historical romance in which most of the characters and some of the events are real, adorned with fairy-tales, fictitious verses, and such entertaining matter as a man of learning and story-teller by trade might naturally be expected to introduce. Among the few remaining Muḥammadan authors who Ḥamza of Iṣfahán. bestowed special attention on the Pre-islamic period of South Arabian history, I shall mention here only Ḥamza of Iṣfahán, the eighth book of whose Annals (finished in 961 a.d.) provides a useful sketch, with brief chronological details, of the Tubba‘s or Ḥimyarite kings of Yemen.

Qaḥṭán, the ancestor of the Southern Arabs, was succeeded by his son Ya‘rub, who is said to have been the first to use the Arabic language, and the first to receive the salutations with which the Arabs were accustomed Ya‘rub. to address their kings, viz., "In‘im ṣabáḥ^an" ("Good morning!") and "Abayta ’l-la‘na" ("Mayst thou avoid malediction!"). His grandson, ‘Abd Shams Saba, is named as the founder of Ma’rib and the builder of the famous Dyke, which, according to others, was constructed by Luqmán b. ‘Ád. Saba had two sons, Ḥimyar and Kahlán. Before his death he deputed the sovereign authority to Ḥimyar, and the task of protecting the frontiers and making war upon the enemy to Kahlán. Thus Ḥimyar Ḥimyar and Kahlán. obtained the lordship, assumed the title Abú Ayman, and abode in the capital city of the realm, while Kahlán took over the defence of the borders and the conduct of war.[45] Omitting the long series of mythical Sabæan kings, of whom the legend has little or nothing to relate, we now come to an event which fixed itself ineffaceably in the memory of the Arabs, and which is known in their traditions as Saylu ’l-‘Arim, or the Flood of the Dyke.

Some few miles south-west of Ma’rib the mountains draw together leaving a gap, through which flows the River Adana. During the summer its bed is often dry, but in the rainy season the water rushes down with such The Dam of Ma’rib. violence that it becomes impassable. In order to protect the city from floods, and partly also for purposes of irrigation, the inhabitants built a dam of solid masonry, which, long after it had fallen into ruin, struck the imagination of Muḥammad, and was reckoned by Moslems among the wonders of the world.[46] That their historians have clothed the bare fact of its destruction in ample robes of legendary circumstance is not surprising, but renders abridgment necessary.[47]

Towards the end of the third century of our era, or possibly at an earlier epoch,[48] the throne of Ma’rib was temporarily occupied by ‘Amr b. ‘Ámir Má’ al-Samá, surnamed Its destruction announced by portents. Muzayqiyá.[49] His wife, Ẓarífa, was skilled in the art of divination. She dreamed dreams and saw visions which announced the impending calamity. "Go to the Dyke," she said to her husband, who doubted her clairvoyance, "and if thou see a rat digging holes in the Dyke with its paws and moving huge boulders with its hind-legs, be assured that the woe hath come upon us." So ‘Amr went to the Dyke and looked carefully, and lo, there was a rat moving an enormous rock which fifty men could not have rolled from its place. Convinced by this and other prodigies that the Dyke would soon burst and the land be laid waste, he resolved to sell his possessions and depart with his family; and, lest conduct so extraordinary should arouse suspicion, he had recourse to the following stratagem. He invited the chief men of the city to a splendid feast, which, in accordance with a preconcerted plan, was interrupted by a violent altercation between himself and his son (or, as others relate, an orphan who had been brought up in his house). Blows were exchanged, and ‘Amr cried out, "O shame! on the day of my glory a stripling has insulted me and struck my face." He swore that he would put his son to death, but the guests entreated him to show mercy, until at last he gave way. "But by God," he exclaimed, "I will no longer remain in a city where I have suffered this indignity. I will sell my lands and my stock." Having successfully got rid of his encumbrances—for there was no lack of buyers eager to take him at his word—‘Amr informed the people of the danger with which they were threatened, and set out from Ma’rib at the head of a great multitude. Gradually the waters made a breach in the Dyke and swept over the country, spreading devastation far and wide. Hence the proverb Dhahabú (or tafarraqú) aydí Saba, "They departed" (or "dispersed") "like the people of Saba."[50]

This deluge marks an epoch in the history of South Arabia. The waters subside, the land returns to cultivation Fall of the Sabæan Empire. and prosperity, but Ma’rib lies desolate, and the Sabæans have disappeared for ever, except "to point a moral or adorn a tale." Al-A‘shá sang:—

Metre Mutaqárib:

"Let this warn whoever a warning will take— And Ma’rib withal, which the Dam fortified. Of marble did Ḥimyar construct it, so high, The waters recoiled when to reach it they tried. It watered their acres and vineyards, and hour By hour, did a portion among them divide. So lived they in fortune and plenty until Therefrom turned away by a ravaging tide. Then wandered their princes and noblemen through Mirage-shrouded deserts that baffle the guide."[51]

The poet's reference to Ḥimyar is not historically accurate. It was only after the destruction of the Dyke and the dispersion of the Sabæans who built it[52] that the Ḥimyarites, with their capital Ẓafár (at a later period, Ṣan‘á) became the rulers of Yemen.

The first Tubba‘, by which name the Ḥimyarite kings are known to Muḥammadan writers, was Ḥárith, called al-Rá’ish, The Tubba‘s. i.e., the Featherer, because he 'feathered' his people's nest with the booty which he brought home as a conqueror from India and Ádharbayján.[53] Of the Tubba‘s who come after him some obviously owe their place in the line of Ḥimyar to genealogists whose respect for the Koran was greater than their critical acumen. Such a man of straw is Ṣa‘b Dhu ’l-Qarnayn (Ṣa‘b the Two-horned).

The following verses show Dhu ’l-Qarnayn. that he is a double of the mysterious Dhu ’l-Qarnayn of Koranic legend, supposed by most commentators to be identical with Alexander the Great[54]:—

"Ours the realm of Dhu ’l-Qarnayn the glorious, Realm like his was never won by mortal king. Followed he the Sun to view its setting When it sank into the sombre ocean-spring; Up he clomb to see it rise at morning, From within its mansion when the East it fired; All day long the horizons led him onward,[55] All night through he watched the stars and never tired. Then of iron and of liquid metal He prepared a rampart not to be o'erpassed, Gog and Magog there he threw in prison Till on Judgment Day they shall awake at last."[56]

Similarly, among the Tubba‘s we find the Queen of Sheba, whose adventures with Bilqís.Solomon are related in the twenty-seventh chapter of the Koran. Although Muḥammad himself did not mention her name or lineage, his interpreters were equal to the occasion and revealed her as Bilqís, the daughter of Sharáḥíl (Sharaḥbíl).

The national hero of South Arabian legend is the Tubba‘ As‘ad Kámil, or, as he is sometimes called, Abú Karib. Even at the present day, says Von Kremer, his memory is kept alive, and still haunts the ruins of his palace at Ẓafár. As‘ad Kámil. "No one who reads the Ballad of his Adventures or the words of exhortation which he addressed on his deathbed to his son Ḥassán can escape from the conviction that here we have to do with genuine folk-poetry—fragments of a South Arabian legendary cycle, the beginnings of which undoubtedly reach back to a high antiquity."[57] I translate here the former of these pieces, which may be entitled

THE BALLAD OF THE THREE WITCHES.[58] "Time brings to pass full many a wonder Whereof the lesson thou must ponder. Whilst all to thee seems ordered fair, Lo, Fate hath wrought confusion there. Against a thing foredoomed to be Nor cunning nor caution helpeth thee. Now a marvellous tale will I recite; Trust me to know and tell it aright! Once on a time was a boy of Asd Who became the king of the land at last, Born in Hamdán, a villager; The name of that village was Khamir. This lad in the pride of youth defied His friends, and they with scorn replied. None guessed his worth till he was grown Ready to spring.

One morn, alone On Hinwam hill he was sore afraid.[59] (His people knew not where he strayed; They had seen him only yesternight, For his youth and wildness they held him light. The wretches! Him they never missed Who had been their glory had they wist). O the fear that fell on his heart when he Saw beside him the witches three! The eldest came with many a brew— In some was blood, blood-dark their hue. 'Give me the cup!' he shouted bold; 'Hold, hold!' cried she, but he would not hold. She gave him the cup, nor he did shrink Tho' he reeled as he drained the magic drink. Then the second yelled at him. Her he faced Like a lion with anger in his breast. 'These be our steeds, come mount,' she cried, 'For asses are worst of steeds to ride.' ''Tis sooth,' he answered, and slipped his flank O'er a hyena lean and lank, But the brute so fiercely flung him away, With deep, deep wounds on the earth he lay. Then came the youngest and tended him On a soft bed, while her eyes did swim In tears; but he averted his face And sought a rougher resting-place: Such paramour he deemed too base. And himthought, in anguish lying there, That needles underneath him were.[60] Now when they had marked his mien so bold, Victory in all things they foretold. 'The wars, O As‘ad, waged by thee Shall heal mankind of misery. Thy sword and spear the foe shall rue When his gashes let the daylight through; And blood shall flow on every hand What time thou marchest from land to land. By us be counselled: stay not within Khamir, but go to Ẓafár and win! To thee shall dalliance ne'er be dear, Thy foes shall see thee before they hear. Desire moved to encounter thee, Noble prince, us witches three. Not jest, but earnest on thee we tried, And well didst thou the proof abide.' As‘ad went home and told his folk What he had seen, but no heed they took. On the tenth day he set out again And fared to Ẓafár with thoughts in his brain. There fortune raised him to high renown: None swifter to strike ever wore a crown.[61] * * * * * Thus found we the tale in memory stored, And Almighty is the Lord. Praise be to God who liveth aye, The Glorious to whom all men pray!"

Legend makes As‘ad the hero of a brilliant expedition to Persia, where he defeated the general sent against him by the Arsacids, and penetrated to the Caspian Sea. On his way home he marched through the Ḥijáz, and having learned that his son, whom he left behind in Medína, had been treacherously murdered, he resolved to take a terrible vengeance on the people of that city.

"Now while the Tubba‘ was carrying on war against them, there came to him two Jewish Rabbins of the Banú Qurayẓa, men deep in knowledge, who when they heard that he wished to destroy the city and its people, said to him: 'O King, forbear! Verily, if thou wilt accept nothing save that which thou desirest, an intervention will be made betwixt thee and the city, and we are As‘ad Kámil and the two Rabbins of Medína. not sure but that sudden chastisement may befall thee.' 'Why so?' he asked. They answered: ''Tis the place of refuge of a prophet who in the after time shall go forth from the sacred territory of Quraysh: it shall be his abode and his home.' So the king refrained himself, for he saw that those two had a particular knowledge, and he was pleased with what they told him. On departing from Medína he followed them in their religion.[62] ... And he turned his face towards Mecca, that being his way to Yemen, and when he was between As‘ad Kámil at Mecca. ‘Usfán and Amaj some Hudhalites came to him and said: 'O King, shall we not guide thee to a house of ancient treasure which the kings before thee neglected, wherein are pearls and emeralds and chrysolites and gold and silver?' He said, 'Yea.' They said: 'It is a temple at Mecca which those who belong to it worship and in which they pray.' Now the Hudhalites wished to destroy him thereby, knowing that destruction awaited the king who should seek to violate its precinct. So on comprehending what they proposed, he sent to the two Rabbins to ask them about the affair. They replied: 'These folk intend naught but to destroy thee and thine army; we wot not of any house in the world that God hath chosen for Himself, save this. If thou do that to which they invite thee, thou and those with thee will surely perish together.' He said: 'What then is it ye bid me do when I come there?' They said: 'Thou wilt do as its people do—make the circuit thereof, and magnify and honour it, and shave thy head, and humble thyself before it, until thou go forth from its precinct.' He said: 'And what hinders you from doing that yourselves?' 'By God,' said they, 'it is the temple of our father Abraham, and verily it is even as we told thee, but we are debarred therefrom by the idols which its people have set up around it and by the blood-offerings which they make beside it; for they are vile polytheists,' or words to the same effect. The king perceived that their advice was good and their tale true. He ordered the Hudhalites to approach, and cut off their hands and feet. Then he continued his march to Mecca, where he made the circuit of the temple, sacrificed camels, and shaved his head. According to what is told, he stayed six days at Mecca, feasting the inhabitants with the flesh of camels and letting them drink honey.[63]... Then he moved out with his troops in the direction of Yemen, the two Rabbins accompanying him; and on entering Yemen he called on his subjects He seeks to establish Judaism in Yemen. to adopt the religion which he himself had embraced, but they refused unless the question were submitted to the ordeal of fire which at that time existed in Yemen; for as the Yemenites say, there was in their country a fire that gave judgment between them in their disputes: it devoured the wrong-doer but left the injured person unscathed. The Yemenites therefore came forward with their The ordeal of fire. idols and whatever else they used as a means of drawing nigh unto God, and the two Rabbins came forward with their scriptures hung on their necks like necklaces, and both parties seated themselves at the place from which the fire was wont to issue. And the fire blazed up, and the Yemenites shrank back from it as it approached them, and were afraid, but the bystanders urged them on and bade them take courage. So they held out until the fire enveloped them and consumed the idols and images and the men of Ḥimyar, the bearers thereof; but the Rabbins came forth safe and sound, their brows moist with sweat, and the scriptures were still hanging on their necks. Thereupon the Ḥimyarites consented to adopt the king's religion, and this was the cause of Judaism being established in Yemen."[64]

The poem addressed to his son and successor, Ḥassán, which tradition has put into his mouth, is a sort of last will and testament, of which the greater part is taken As‘ad's farewell to his son. up with an account of his conquests and with glorification of his family and himself.[65] Nearly all that we find in the way of maxims or injunctions suitable to the solemn occasion is contained in the following verses:—

"O Ḥassán, the hour of thy father's death has arrived at last: Look to thyself ere yet the time for looking is past. Oft indeed are the mighty abased, and often likewise Are the base exalted: such is Man who is born and dies.

Bid ye Ḥimyar know that standing erect would I buried be, And have my wine-skins and Yemen robes in the tomb with me.[66] And hearken thou to my Sibyl, for surely can she foresay The truth, and safe in her keeping is castle Ghaymán aye.[67]

In connection with Ghaymán a few words may be added respecting the castles in Yemen, of which the ruined skeletons rising from solitary heights seem still to frown The castles of Yemen. defiance upon the passing traveller. Two thousand years ago, and probably long before, they were occupied by powerful barons, more or less independent, who in later times, when the Ḥimyarite Empire had begun to decline, always elected, and occasionally deposed, their royal master. Of these castles the geographer Hamdání has given a detailed account in the eighth book of his great work on the history and antiquities of Yemen entitled the Iklíl, or 'Crown.'[68] The oldest and most celebrated was Ghumdán, the citadel of Ṣan‘á. It is described as a huge edifice of twenty stories, each story ten cubits high. The Ghumdán. four façades were built with stone of different colours, white, black, green, and red. On the top story was a chamber which had windows of marble framed with ebony and planewood. Its roof was a slab of pellucid marble, so that when the lord of Ghumdán lay on his couch he saw the birds fly overhead, and could distinguish a raven from a kite. At each corner stood a brazen lion, and when the wind blew it entered the hollow interior of the effigies and made a sound like the roaring of lions.

The adventure of As‘ad Kámil with the three witches must have recalled to every reader certain scenes in Macbeth. Curiously enough, in the history of his son Ḥassán an incident is related which offers a striking parallel to the march of Birnam Wood. Ṭasm and Jadís have already been mentioned. On the massacre of the former tribe by the latter, a single Ṭasmite named Ribáḥ b. Murra made his escape and took refuge with the Tubba‘ Ḥassán, whom he persuaded to lead an expedition against the murderers. Now Ribáḥ's sister had married a man of Jadís. Her name was Zarqá’u ’l-Yamáma. Zarqá’u ’l-Yamáma—i.e., the Blue-eyed Woman of Yamáma—and she had such piercing sight that she was able to descry an army thirty miles away. Ḥassán therefore bade his horsemen hold in front of them leafy branches which they tore down from the trees. They advanced thus hidden, and towards evening, when they had come within a day's journey, Zarqá said to her people: "I see trees marching." No one believed her until it was too late. Next morning Ḥassán fell upon them and put the whole tribe to the sword.

The warlike expeditions to which Ḥassán devoted all his energy were felt as an intolerable burden by the chiefs of Ḥimyar, who formed a plot to slay him and set Ḥassán murdered by his brother. his brother ‘Amr on the throne. ‘Amr was at first unwilling to lend himself to their designs, but ultimately his scruples were overcome, and he stabbed the Tubba‘ with his own hand. The assassin suffered a terrible punishment. Sleep deserted him, and in his remorse he began to execute the conspirators one after another. There was, however, a single chief called Dhú Dhú Ru‘ayn. Ru‘ayn, who had remained loyal and had done his best to save ‘Amr from the guilt of fratricide. Finding his efforts fruitless, he requested ‘Amr to take charge of a sealed paper which he brought with him, and to keep it in a safe place until he should ask for it. ‘Amr consented and thought no more of the matter. Afterwards, imagining that Dhú Ru‘ayn had joined in the fatal plot, he gave orders for his execution. "How!" exclaimed Dhú Ru‘ayn, "did not I tell thee what the crime involved?" and he asked for the sealed writing, which was found to contain these verses—

"O fool to barter sleep for waking! Blest Is he alone whose eyelids close in rest. Hath Ḥimyar practised treason, yet 'tis plain That God forgiveness owes to Dhú Ru‘ayn.[69]"

On reading this, ‘Amr recognised that Dhú Ru‘ayn had spoken the truth, and he spared his life.

With ‘Amr the Tubba‘ dynasty comes to an end. The succeeding kings were elected by eight of the most powerful barons, who in reality were independent princes, each ruling in his strong castle over as many vassals and retainers as he could bring into subjection. During this period the Abyssinians conquered at least some part of the country, and Christian viceroys were sent by the Najáshí (Negus) to govern it in his name. At last Dhú Nuwás, a descendant of the Tubba‘ As‘ad Kámil, crushed the rebellious barons and made himself unquestioned monarch of Yemen. A fanatical adherent of Judaism, he resolved to stamp out Christianity in Dhú Nuwás. Najrán, where it is said to have been introduced from Syria by a holy man called Faymiyún (Phemion). The Ḥimyarites flocked to his standard, not so much from religious motives as from hatred of the Abyssinians. The pretended murder of two Jewish children gave Dhú Nuwás a plausible casus belli. He marched against Najrán with an overwhelming force, entered the city, and bade the inhabitants Massacre of the Christians in Najrán (523 a.d.). choose between Judaism and death. Many perished by the sword; the rest were thrown into a trench which the king ordered to be dug and filled with blazing fire. Nearly a hundred years later, when Muḥammad was being sorely persecuted, he consoled and encouraged his followers by the example of the Christians of Najrán, who suffered "for no other reason but that they believed in the mighty, the glorious God."[70] Dhú Nuwás paid dearly for his triumph. Daws Dhú Tha‘labán, one of those who escaped from the massacre, fled to the Byzantine emperor and implored him, as the head of Christendom, to assist them in obtaining vengeance. Justinus accordingly wrote a letter to the Najáshí, desiring him to take action, and ere long an Abyssinian army, 70,000 strong, under the command of Aryáṭ, disembarked in Yemen. Dhú Nuwás could not count on the loyalty of the Ḥimyarite nobles; his troops melted away. "When he saw Death of Dhú Nuwás. the fate that had befallen himself and his people, he turned to the sea and setting spurs to his horse, rode through the shallows until he reached the deep water. Then he plunged into the waves and nothing more of him was seen."[71]

Thus died, or thus at any rate should have died, the last representative of the long line of Ḥimyarite kings. Henceforth Yemen appears in Pre-islamic history only as an Abyssinian dependency or as a Persian protectorate. The events now to be related form the prologue to a new drama in which South Arabia, so far from being the centre of interest, plays an almost insignificant rôle.[72]

On the death of Dhú Nuwás, the Abyssinian general Aryáṭ continued his march through Yemen. He slaughtered a third part of the males, laid waste a third part of the land, and sent a third part of the women and children to the Yemen under Abyssinian rule. Najáshí as slaves. Having reduced the Yemenites to submission and re-established order, he held the position of viceroy for several years. Then mutiny broke out in the Abyssinian army of occupation, and his authority was disputed by an officer, named Abraha. When the rivals faced each other, Abraha said to Aryáṭ: "What will it avail you to engage the Abyssinians in a civil war that will leave none of them alive? Fight it out with me, and let the troops follow the victor." His challenge being accepted, Abraha stepped forth. He was a short, fleshy man, compactly built, a devout Christian, while Aryáṭ was big, tall, and handsome. When the duel began, Aryáṭ thrust his spear Abraha and Aryáṭ. with the intention of piercing Abraha's brain, but it glanced off his forehead, slitting his eyelid, nose, and lip—hence the name, al-Ashram, by which Abraha was afterwards known; and ere he could repeat the blow, a youth in Abraha's service, called ‘Atwada, who was seated on a hillock behind his master, sprang forward and dealt him a mortal wound. Thus Abraha found himself commander-in-chief of the Abyssinian army, but the Najáshí was enraged and swore not to rest until he set foot on the soil of Yemen and cut off the rebel's forelock. On hearing this, Abraha wrote to the Najáshí: "O King, Aryáṭ was thy servant even as I am. We quarrelled over thy command, both of us owing allegiance to thee, but I had more strength than he to command the Abyssinians and keep discipline and exert authority. When I heard of the king's oath, I shore my head, and now I send him a sack of the earth of Yemen that he may put it under his feet and fulfil his oath." The Najáshí answered this act of submission by appointing Abraha to be his viceroy.... Then Abraha built the church (al-Qalís) at San‘á, the like of which was not to be seen at that time in the whole world, and wrote to the Najáshí that he would not be content until he had diverted thither every pilgrim in Arabia. This letter made much talk, and a man of the Banú Fuqaym, one of those who arranged the calendar, was angered by what he learned of Abraha's purpose; so he went into the church and defiled it. When Abraha heard that the author of the outrage belonged to the people of the Temple in Mecca, and that he meant to show thereby his scorn and contempt for the new foundation, he waxed wroth and swore that he would march against the Temple and lay it in ruins.

The disastrous failure of this expedition, which took place in the year of the Elephant (570 a.d.), did not at once free Yemen from the Abyssinian yoke. The sons of Abraha, Yaksum and Masrúq, bore heavily on the Arabs. Seeing no help among his own people, a noble Ḥimyarite named Sayf b. Dhí Yazan resolved to seek foreign intervention. His choice lay between the Byzantine and Persian empires, Sayf b. Dhí Yazan. and he first betook himself to Constantinople. Disappointed there, he induced the Arab king of Ḥíra, who was under Persian suzerainty, to present him at the court of Madá’in (Ctesiphon). How he won audience of the Sásánian monarch, Núshírwán, surnamed the Just, and tempted him by an ingenious trick to raise a force of eight hundred condemned felons, who were set free and shipped to Yemen under the command of an aged general; how they literally 'burned their boats' and, drawing courage from despair, routed the Abyssinian host and made Yemen a satrapy The Persians in Yemen (circa 572 a.d.). of Persia[73]—this forms an almost epic narrative, which I have omitted here (apart from considerations of space) because it belongs to Persian rather than to Arabian literary history, being probably based, as Nöldeke has suggested, on traditions handed down by the Persian conquerors who settled in Yemen to their aristocratic descendants whom the Arabs called al-Abná (the Sons) or Banu ’l-Aḥrár (Sons of the Noble).

Leaving the once mighty kingdom of Yemen thus pitiably and for ever fallen from its high estate, we turn northward into the main stream of Arabian history.

CHAPTER II

THE HISTORY AND LEGENDS OF THE PAGAN ARABS

Muḥammadans include the whole period of Arabian history from the earliest times down to the establishment of Islam in the term al-Jáhiliyya, which was used by The Age of Barbarism (al-Jáhiliyya). Muḥammad in four passages of the Koran and is generally translated 'the state or ignorance' or simply 'the Ignorance.' Goldziher, however, has shown conclusively that the meaning attached to jahl (whence Jáhiliyya is derived) by the Pre-islamic poets is not so much 'ignorance' as 'wildness,' 'savagery,' and that its true antithesis is not ‘ilm (knowledge), but rather ḥilm, which denotes the moral reasonableness of a civilised man. "When Muḥammadans say that Islam put an end to the manners and customs of the Jáhiliyya, they have in view those barbarous practices, that savage temper, by which Arabian heathendom is distinguished from Islam and by the abolition of which Muḥammad sought to work a moral reformation in his countrymen: the haughty spirit of the Jáhiliyya (ḥamiyyatu ’l-Jáhiliyya), the tribal pride and the endless tribal feuds, the cult of revenge, the implacability and all the other pagan characteristics which Islam was destined to overcome."[74]

Our sources of information regarding this period may be classified as follows:—

(1) Poems and fragments of verse, which though not written down at the time were preserved by oral tradition and committed to writing, for the most part, two or three hundred years afterwards. The importance of this, virtually Sources of information concerning the Jáhiliyya. the sole contemporary record of Pre-islamic history, is recognised in the well-known saying, "Poetry is the public register of the Arabs (al-shi‘ru díwánu ’l-‘Arab); thereby genealogies are kept in mind and famous actions are made familiar." Some account of the chief collections of old Arabian poetry will be given in the next chapter.

(2) Proverbs. These are of less value, as they seldom explain themselves, while the commentary attached to them is the work of scholars bent on explaining them at all costs, though in many cases their true meaning could only be conjectured and the circumstances of their origin had been entirely forgotten. Notwithstanding this very pardonable excess of zeal, we could ill afford to lose the celebrated collections of Mufaḍḍal b. Salama († circa 900 a.d.) and Maydání († 1124 a.d.),[75] which contain so much curious information throwing light on every aspect of Pre-islamic life.

(3) Traditions and legends. Since the art of writing was neither understood nor practised by the heathen Arabs in general, it was impossible that Prose, as a literary form, should exist among them. The germs of Arabic Prose, however, may be traced back to the Jáhiliyya. Besides the proverb (mathal) and the oration (khuṭba) we find elements of history and romance in the prose narratives used by the rhapsodists to introduce and set forth plainly the matter of their songs, and in the legends which recounted the glorious deeds of tribes and individuals. A vast number of such stories—some unmistakably genuine, others bearing the stamp of fiction—are preserved in various literary, historical, and geographical works composed under the ‘Abbásid Caliphate, especially in the Kitábu ’l-Aghání (Book of Songs) by Abu ’l-Faraj of Iṣfahán († 967 a.d.), an invaluable compilation based on the researches of the great Humanists as they have been well named by Sir Charles Lyall, of the second and third centuries after the Hijra.[76] The original writings of these early critics and scholars have The Book of Songs. perished almost without exception, and beyond the copious citations in the Aghání we possess hardly any specimens of their work. "The Book of Songs," says Ibn Khaldún, "is the Register of the Arabs. It comprises all that they had achieved in the past of excellence in every kind of poetry, history, music, et cetera. So far as I am aware, no other book can be put on a level with it in this respect. It is the final resource of the student of belles-lettres, and leaves him nothing further to desire."[77]

In the following pages I shall not attempt to set in due order and connection the confused mass of poetry and legend in which all that we know of Pre-islamic Arabia Scope of this chapter. lies deeply embedded. This task has already been performed with admirable skill by Caussin de Perceval in his Essai sur l'histoire des Arabes avant l'Islamisme,[78] and it could serve no useful purpose to inflict a dry summary of that famous work upon the reader. The better course, I think, will be to select a few typical and outstanding features of the time and to present them, wherever possible, as they have been drawn—largely from imagination—by the Arabs themselves. If the Arabian traditions are wanting in historical accuracy they are nevertheless, taken as a whole, true in spirit to the Dark Age which they call up from the dead and reverently unfold beneath our eyes.

About the middle of the third century of our era Arabia was enclosed on the north and north-east by the rival empires of Rome and Persia, to which the Syrian desert, stretching right across the peninsula, formed a natural termination. In order to protect themselves from Bedouin raiders, who poured over the frontier-provinces, and after laying hands on all the booty within reach vanished as suddenly as they came, both Powers found it necessary to plant a line of garrisons along the edge of the wilderness. Thus the tribesmen were partially held in check, but as force alone seemed an expensive and inefficient remedy it was decided, in accordance with the well-proved maxim, divide et impera, to enlist a number of the offending tribes in the Imperial service. Regular pay and the prospect of unlimited plunder—for in those days Rome and Persia were almost perpetually at war—were inducements that no true Bedouin could resist. They fought, however, as free allies under their own chiefs or The Arab dynasties of Ḥíra and Ghassán. phylarchs. In this way two Arabian dynasties sprang up—the Ghassánids in Syria and the Lakhmites at Ḥíra, west of the Euphrates—military buffer-states, always ready to collide even when they were not urged on by the suzerain powers behind them. The Arabs soon showed what they were capable of when trained and disciplined in arms. On the defeat of Valerian by the Chosroes Sábúr I, an Arab chieftain in Palmyra, named Udhayna (Odenathus), marched at the head of a strong force against the conqueror, drove him out of Syria, and pursued him up to the very walls of Madá’in, the Persian capital (265 a.d.). His brilliant exploits were duly rewarded by the Emperor Gallienus, who bestowed on him the title of Augustus. He was, in fact, the Odenathus and Zenobia. acknowledged master of the Roman legions in the East when, a year later, he was treacherously murdered. He found a worthy successor in his wife, the noble and ambitious Zenobia, who set herself the task of building up a great Oriental Empire. She fared, however, no better than did Cleopatra in a like enterprise. For a moment the issue was doubtful, but Aurelian triumphed and the proud 'Queen of the East' was led a captive before his chariot through the streets of Rome (274 a.d.).

These events were not forgotten by the Arabs. It flattered their national pride to recall that once, at any rate, Roman armies had marched under the flag of an Arabian princess. But the legend, as told in their traditions, has little in common with reality. Not only are names and places freely altered—Zenobia herself being confused with her Syrian general, Zabdai—but the historical setting, though dimly visible in the background, has been distorted almost beyond recognition: what remains is one of those romantic adventures which delighted the Arabs of the Jáhiliyya, just as their modern descendants are never tired of listening to the Story of ‘Antar or to the Thousand Nights and a Night.

The first king of the Arab settlers in ‘Iráq (Babylonia)[79] is said to have been Málik the Azdite, Málik the Azdite. who was accidentally shot with an arrow by his son, Sulayma. Before he expired he uttered a verse which has become proverbial:—

U‘allimuhu ’l-rimáyata kulla yawmⁱⁿ falamma ’stadda sá‘iduhú ramání. "I taught him every day the bowman's art, And when his arm took aim, he pierced my heart."

Málik's kingdom, if it can properly be described as such, was consolidated and organised by his son, Jadhíma, surnamed al-Abrash (the Speckled)—a polite euphemism for Jadhíma al-Abrash. al-Abraṣ (the Leprous). He reigned as the vassal of Ardashír Bábakán, the founder (226 a.d.) of the Sásánian dynasty in Persia, which thereafter continued to dominate the Arabs of ‘Iráq during the whole Pre-islamic period. Jadhíma is the hero of many fables and proverbs. His pride, it is said, was so overweening that he would suffer no boon-companions except two stars called al-Farqadán, and when he drank wine he used to pour out a cup for each of them. He had a page, ‘Adí b. Naṣr, with whom his sister fell in love; and in a moment of intoxication he gave his consent to their marriage. Next morning, furious at the trick which had been played upon him, he beheaded the unlucky bridegroom and reviled his sister for having married a slave. Nevertheless, when a son was born, Jadhíma adopted the boy, and as he grew up regarded him with the utmost affection. One day the youthful ‘Amr suddenly disappeared. For a long time no trace of him could be found, but at last he was discovered, running wild and naked, by two brothers, Málik and ‘Aqíl, who cared for him and clothed him and presented him to the king. Overjoyed at the sight, Jadhíma promised to grant them whatever they asked. They chose the honour, which no mortal had hitherto obtained, of being his boon-companions, and by this title (nadmáná Jadhíma) they are known to fame.

Jadhíma was a wise and warlike prince. In one of his expeditions he defeated and slew ‘Amr b. Ẓarib b. Ḥassán b. Udhayna, an Arab chieftain who had brought part of Eastern Syria and Mesopotamia under his sway, and who, as the name Udhayna indicates, is probably identical with Odenathus, the husband of Zenobia. This opinion is confirmed by the statement of Ibn Qutayba that "Jadhíma sought in marriage The story of Zabbá. Zabbá, the daughter of the King of Mesopotamia, who became queen after her husband."[80]—According to the view generally held by Muḥammadan authors Zabbá[81] was the daughter of ‘Amr b. Ẓarib and was elected to succeed him when he fell in battle. However this may be, she proved herself a woman of extraordinary courage and resolution. As a safeguard against attack she built two strong castles on either bank of the Euphrates and connected them by a subterranean tunnel; she made one fortress her own residence, while her sister, Zaynab, occupied the other.

Having thus secured her position she determined to take vengeance on Jadhíma. She wrote to him that the sceptre was slipping from her feeble grasp, that she found no man worthy of her except himself, that she desired to unite her kingdom with his by marriage, and begged him to come and see her. Jadhíma needed no urging. Deaf to the warnings of his friend and counsellor, Qaṣír, he started from Baqqa, a castle on the Euphrates. When they had travelled some distance, Qaṣír implored him to return. "No," said Jadhíma, "the affair was decided at Baqqa"—words which passed into a proverb. On approaching their destination the king saw with alarm squadrons of cavalry between him and the city, and said to Qaṣír, "What is the prudent course?" "You left prudence at Baqqa," he replied; "if the cavalry advance and salute you as king and then retire in front of you, the woman is sincere, but if they cover your flanks and encompass you, they mean treachery. Mount al-‘Aṣá"—Jadhíma's favourite mare—"for she cannot be overtaken or outpaced, and rejoin your troops while there is yet time." Jadhíma refused to follow this advice. Presently he was surrounded by the cavalry and captured. Qaṣír, however, sprang on the mare's back and galloped thirty miles without drawing rein.

When Jadhíma was brought to Zabbá she seated him on a skin of leather and ordered her maidens to open the veins in his arm, so that his blood should flow into a golden bowl. "O Jadhíma," said she, "let not a single drop be lost. I want it as a cure for madness." The dying man suddenly moved his arm and sprinkled with his blood one of the marble pillars of the hall—an evil portent for Zabbá, inasmuch as it had been prophesied by a certain soothsayer that unless every drop of the king's blood entered the bowl, his murder would be avenged.

Now Qaṣír came to ‘Amr b. ‘Adí, Jadhíma's nephew and son by adoption, who has been mentioned above, and engaged to win over the army to his side if he would take vengeance on Zabbá. "But how?" cried ‘Amr; " for she is more inaccessible than the eagle of the air." "Only help me," said Qaṣír, "and you will be clear of blame." He cut off his nose and ears and betook himself to Zabbá, pretending that he had been mutilated by ‘Amr. The queen believed what she saw, welcomed him, and gave him money to trade on her behalf. Qaṣír hastened to the palace of ‘Amr at Ḥíra, and, having obtained permission to ransack the royal treasury, he returned laden with riches. Thus he gradually crept into the confidence of Zabbá, until one day he said to her: "It behoves every king and queen to provide themselves with a secret passage wherein to take refuge in case of danger." Zabbá answered: "I have already done so," and showed him the tunnel which she had constructed underneath the Euphrates. His project was now ripe for execution. With the help of ‘Amr he fitted out a caravan of a thousand camels, each carrying two armed men concealed in sacks. When they drew near the city of Zabbá, Qaṣír left them and rode forward to announce their arrival to the queen, who from the walls of her capital viewed the long train of heavily burdened camels and marvelled at the slow pace with which they advanced. As the last camel passed through the gates of the city the janitor pricked one of the sacks with an ox-goad which he had with him, and hearing a cry of pain, exclaimed, "By God, there's mischief in the sacks!" But it was too late. ‘Amr and his men threw themselves upon the garrison and put them to the sword. Zabbá sought to escape by the tunnel, but Qaṣír stood barring the exit on the further side of the stream. She hurried back, and there was ‘Amr facing her. Resolved that her enemy should not taste the sweetness of vengeance, she sucked her seal-ring, which contained a deadly poison, crying, "By my own hand, not by ‘Amr's!"[82]

In the kingdoms of Ḥíra and Ghassán Pre-islamic culture attained its highest development, and from these centres it diffused itself and made its influence felt throughout Arabia. Some account, therefore, of their history and of the circumstances which enabled them to assume a civilising rôle will not be superfluous.[83]

About the beginning of the third century after Christ a number of Bedouin tribes, wholly or partly of Yemenite origin, who had formed a confederacy and called themselves The foundation of Ḥíra. collectively Tanúkh, took advantage of the disorder then prevailing in the Arsacid Empire to invade ‘Iráq (Babylonia) and plant their settlements in the fertile country west of the Euphrates. While part of the intruders continued to lead a nomad life, others engaged in agriculture, and in course of time villages and towns grew up. The most important of these was Ḥíra (properly, al-Ḥíra, i.e., the Camp), which occupied a favourable and healthy situation a few miles to the south of Kúfa, in the neighbourhood of ancient Babylon.[84] According to Hishám b. Muḥammad al-Kalbí († 819 or 821 a.d.), an excellent authority for the history of the Pre-islamic period, the inhabitants of Ḥíra during the reign of Ardashír Bábakán, the first Sásánian king of Persia (226-241 a.d.), consisted of three classes, viz.:—

(1) The Tanúkh, who dwelt west of the Euphrates between Ḥíra and Anbár in tents of camel's hair.

(2) The ‘Ibád, who lived in houses in Ḥíra.

(3) The Aḥláf (Clients), who did not belong to either of the above-mentioned classes, but attached themselves to the people of Ḥíra and lived among them—blood-guilty fugitives pursued by the vengeance of their own kin, or needy emigrants seeking to mend their fortunes.

Naturally the townsmen proper formed by far the most influential element in the population. Hishám, as we have seen, calls them 'the ‘Ibád.' His use of this The ‘Ibád. term, however, is not strictly accurate. The ‘Ibád are exclusively the Christian Arabs of Ḥíra, and are so called in virtue of their Christianity; the pagan Arabs, who at the time when Ḥíra was founded and for long afterwards constituted the bulk of the citizens, were never comprised in a designation which expresses the very opposite of paganism. ‘Ibád means 'servants,' i.e., those who serve God or Christ. It cannot be determined at what epoch the name was first used to distinguish the religious community, composed of members of different tribes, which was dominant in Ḥíra during the sixth century. Dates are comparatively of little importance; what is really remarkable is the existence in Pre-islamic times of an Arabian community that was not based on blood-relationship or descent from a common ancestor, but on a spiritual principle, namely, the profession of a common faith. The religion and culture of the ‘Ibád were conveyed by various channels to the inmost recesses of the peninsula, as will be shown more fully in a subsequent chapter. They were the schoolmasters of the heathen Arabs, who could seldom read or write, and who, it must be owned, so far from desiring to receive instruction, rather gloried in their ignorance of accomplishments which they regarded as servile. Nevertheless, the best minds among the Bedouins were irresistibly attracted to Ḥíra. Poets in those days found favour with princes. A great number of Pre-islamic bards visited the Lakhmite court, while some, like Nábigha and ‘Abíd b. al-Abraṣ, made it their permanent residence.

It is unnecessary to enter into the vexed question as to the origin and rise of the Lakhmite dynasty at Ḥíra. According to Hishám b. Muḥammad al-Kalbi, who gives a list of twenty kings, covering a period of 522 years and eight months, the first Lakhmite ruler was ‘Amr b. ‘Adí b. Naṣr The Lakhmites. b. Rabí‘a b. Lakhm, the same who was adopted by Jadhíma, and afterwards avenged his death on Queen Zabbá. Almost nothing is known of his successors until we come to Nu‘mán I, surnamed al-A‘war (the One-eyed), Nu‘mán I. (circa 400 a.d.). whose reign falls in the first quarter of the fifth century. Nu‘mán is renowned in legend as the builder of Khawarnaq, a famous castle near Ḥíra. It was built at the instance of the Sásánian king, Yazdigird I, who desired a salubrious residence for his son, Prince Bahrám Gór. On its completion, Nu‘mán ordered the architect, a 'Roman' (i.e., Byzantine subject) named Sinimmár, to be cast headlong from the battlements, either on account of his boast that he could have constructed a yet more The Castle of Khawarnaq. wonderful edifice "which should turn round with the sun," or for fear that he might reveal the position of a certain stone, the removal of which would cause the whole building to collapse. One spring day (so the story is told) Nu‘mán sat with his Vizier in Khawarnaq, which overlooked the Fen-land (al-Najaf), with its neighbouring gardens and plantations of palm-trees and canals, to the west, and the Euphrates to the east. Charmed by the beauty of the prospect, he exclaimed, "Hast thou ever seen the like of this?" "No," replied the Vizier, "if it would Nu‘mán becomes an anchorite. but last." "And what is lasting?" asked Nu‘mán. "That which is with God in heaven." "How can one attain to it?" "By renouncing the world and serving God, and striving after that which He hath." Nu‘mán, it is said, immediately resolved to abandon his kingdom; on the same night he clad himself in sackcloth, stole away unperceived, and became a wandering devotee (sá’iḥ). This legend seems to have grown out of the following verses by ‘Adí b. Zayd, the ‘Ibádite:—

"Consider thou Khawarnaq's lord—and oft Of heavenly guidance cometh vision clear— Who once, rejoicing in his ample realm, Surveyed the broad Euphrates, and Sadír;[85] Then sudden terror struck his heart: he cried, 'Shall Man, who deathward goes, find pleasure here?' They reigned, they prospered; yet, their glory past, In yonder tombs they lie this many a year. At last they were like unto withered leaves Whirled by the winds away in wild career."[86]

The opinion of most Arabian authors, that Nu‘mán embraced Christianity, is probably unfounded, but there is reason to believe that he was well disposed towards it, and that his Christian subjects—a Bishop of Ḥíra is mentioned as early as 410 a.d.—enjoyed complete religious liberty.

Nu‘mán's place was filled by his son Mundhir, an able and energetic prince. The power of the Lakhmites at this time may be inferred from the fact that on the death Mundhir I. of Yazdigird I Mundhir forcibly intervened in the dispute as to the Persian succession and procured the election of Bahrám Gór, whose claims had previously been rejected by the priesthood.[87] In the war which broke out shortly afterwards between Persia and Rome, Mundhir proved himself a loyal vassal, but was defeated by the Romans with great loss (421 a.d.). Passing over several obscure reigns, we arrive at the beginning of the sixth century, when another Mundhir, the third and most illustrious of his Mundhir III, b. Má’ al-samá. name, ascended the throne. This is he whom the Arabs called Mundhir b. Má’ al-samá.[88] He had a long and brilliant reign, which, however, was temporarily clouded by an event that cannot be understood without some reference to the general history of the period. About 480 a.d. the powerful tribe of Kinda, whose princes appear to have held much the same position under the Tubba‘s of Yemen as the Lakhmites under the Persian monarchs, had extended their sway over the greater part of Central and Northern Arabia. The moving spirit in this conquest was Ḥujr, Rise of Kinda. surnamed Akilu ’l-Murár, an ancestor of the poet Imru’u ’l-Qays. On his death the Kindite confederacy was broken up, but towards the year 500 it was re-established for a brief space by his grandson, Ḥárith b. ‘Amr, and became a formidable rival to the kingdoms of Ghassán and Ḥíra. Meanwhile, in Persia, the communistic doctrines of Mazdak had obtained wide popularity among the lower Mazdak. classes, and were finally adopted by King Kawádh himself.[89] Now, it is certain that at some date between 505 and 529 Ḥárith b. ‘Amr, the Kindite, invaded ‘Iráq, and drove Mundhir out of his kingdom; and it seems not impossible that, as many historians assert, the latter's downfall was due to his anti-Mazdakite opinions, which Mundhir expelled from Ḥíra by Ḥárith of Kinda. would naturally excite the displeasure of his suzerain. At any rate, whatever the causes may have been, Mundhir was temporarily supplanted by Ḥárith, and although he was restored after a short interval, before the accession of Anúshirwán, who, as Crown Prince, carried out a wholesale massacre of the followers of Mazdak (528 a.d.), the humiliation which he had suffered and cruelly avenged was not soon forgotten;[90] the life and poems of Imru’u ’l-Qays bear witness to the hereditary hatred subsisting between Lakhm and Kinda. Mundhir's operations against the Romans were conducted with extraordinary vigour; he devastated Syria as far as Antioch, and Justinian saw himself obliged to entrust the defence of these provinces to the Ghassánid Ḥárith b. Jabala (Ḥárith al-A‘raj), in whom Mundhir at last found more than his match. From this time onward the kings of Ḥíra and Ghassán are continually raiding and plundering each other's territory. In one of his expeditions Mundhir captured a son of Ḥárith, and "immediately sacrificed him to Aphrodite"—i.e., to the Arabian goddess al-‘Uzzá;[91]—but on taking the field again in 554 he was surprised and slain by stratagem in a battle which Death of Mundhir III. is known proverbially as 'The Day of Ḥalíma.'[92] On the whole, the Lakhmites were a heathen and barbarous race, and these epithets are richly deserved by Mundhir III. It is related in the Aghání that he had two boon-companions, Khálid b. al-Muḍallil and ‘Amr b. Mas‘úd, with whom he used to carouse; and once, being irritated by words spoken in wine, he gave orders that they should be buried alive. Next morning he did not recollect what had passed and inquired as usual for his friends. On learning the truth he was filled with remorse. He caused two obelisks to be erected over their graves, and two days in every year he would come and sit beside Mundhir's "Good Day and Evil Day." these obelisks, which were called al-Ghariyyán—i.e., the Blood-smeared. One day was the Day of Good (yawmu na‘imⁱⁿ), and whoever first encountered him on that day received a hundred black camels. The other day was the Day of Evil (yawmu bu’sⁱⁿ), on which he would present the first-comer with the head of a black polecat (ẓaribán), then sacrifice him and smear the obelisks with his blood.[93] The poet ‘Abíd b. al-Abraṣ is said to have fallen a victim to this horrible rite. It continued until the doom fell upon a certain Ḥanẓala of Ṭayyi’, who was granted a year's grace in order to regulate his affairs, on condition that he should find a surety. He appealed to one of Mundhir's suite, Sharík b. ‘Amr, who straightway rose and said to the king, "My hand Ḥanẓala and Sharík. for his and my blood for his if he fail to return at the time appointed." When the day came Ḥanẓala did not appear, and Mundhir was about to sacrifice Sharík, whose mourning-woman had already begun to chant the dirge. Suddenly a rider was seen approaching, wrapped in a shroud and perfumed for burial. A mourning-woman accompanied him. It was Ḥanẓala. Mundhir marvelled at their loyalty, dismissed them with marks of honour, and abolished the custom which he had instituted.[94]

He was succeeded by his son ‘Amr, who is known to contemporary poets and later historians as ‘Amr, son of Hind.[95] During his reign Ḥíra became an important literary centre. Most of the famous poets then living ‘Amr B. Hind (554-569 a.d.). visited his court; we shall see in the next chapter what relations he had with Ṭarafa, ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, and Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza. He was a morose, passionate, and tyrannical man. The Arabs stood in great awe of him, but vented their spite none the less. "At Ḥíra," said Daháb al-‘Ijlí, "there are mosquitoes and fever and lions and ‘Amr b. Hind, who acts unjustly and wrongfully."[96] He was slain by the chief of Taghlib, ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, in vengeance for an insult offered to his mother, Laylá.

It is sufficient to mention the names of Qábús and Mundhir IV, both of whom were sons of Hind, and occupied the throne for short periods. We now come to the last Lakhmite king of Ḥíra, and by far the Nu‘mán Abú Qábús. most celebrated in tradition, Nu‘mán III, son of Mundhir IV, with the kunya (name of honour) Abú Qábús, who reigned from 580 to 602 or from 585 to 607. He was brought up and educated by a noble Christian family in Ḥíra, the head of which was Zayd b. Ḥammád, father of the poet ‘Adí b. Zayd. ‘Adí is such an interesting figure, and his fortunes were so closely and tragically linked with those of Nu‘mán, that some account of his life and character will be acceptable. Both his father and grandfather were men of unusual culture, who held high posts in the civil administration under Mundhir III and his successors. Zayd, moreover, through the good offices of a dihqán, or Persian landed proprietor, Farrukh-máhán by name, ‘Adí b. Zayd. obtained from Khusraw Anúshirwán an important and confidential appointment—that of Postmaster—ordinarily reserved for the sons of satraps.[97] When ‘Adí grew up, his father sent him to be educated with the son of the dihqán. He learned to write and speak Persian with complete facility and Arabic with the utmost elegance; he versified, and his accomplishments included archery, horsemanship, and polo. At the Persian court his personal beauty, wit, and readiness in reply so impressed Anúshirwán that he took him into his service as secretary and interpreter—Arabic had never before been written in the Imperial Chancery—and accorded him all the privileges of a favourite. He was entrusted with a mission to Constantinople, where he was honourably received; and on his departure the Qayṣar,[98] following an excellent custom, instructed the officials in charge of the post-routes to provide horses and every convenience in order that the ambassador might see for himself the extent and resources of the Byzantine Empire. ‘Adí passed some time in Syria, especially at Damascus, where his first poem is said to have appeared. On his father's death, which happened about this time, he renounced the splendid position at Ḥíra which he might have had for the asking, and gave himself up to hunting and to all kinds of amusement and pleasure, only visiting Madá’in (Ctesiphon) at intervals to perform his secretarial duties. While staying at Ḥíra he fell in love with Nu‘mán's daughter Hind, who was then eleven years old. The story as told in the Book of Songs is too curious to be entirely omitted, though want of space prevents me from giving it in full.[99]

It is related that Hind, who was one of the fairest women of her time, went to church on Thursday of Holy Week, three days after Palm Sunday, to receive the sacrament. ‘Adí had ‘Adí meets the Princess Hind in church. entered the church for the same purpose. He espied her—she was a big, tall girl—while she was off her guard, and fixed his gaze upon her before she became aware of him. Her maidens, who had seen him approaching, said nothing to their mistress, because one of them called Máriya was enamoured of ‘Adí and knew no other way of making his acquaintance. When Hind saw him looking at herself, she was highly displeased and scolded her handmaidens and beat some of them. ‘Adí had fallen in love with her, but he kept the matter secret for a whole year. At the end of that time Máriya, thinking that Hind had forgotten what passed, described the church of Thómá (St. Thomas) and the nuns there and the girls who frequented it, and the beauty of the building and of the lamps, and said to her, "Ask thy mother's leave to go." As soon as leave was granted, Máriya conveyed the intelligence to ‘Adí, who immediately dressed himself in a magnificent gold-embroidered Persian tunic (yalmaq) and hastened to the rendezvous, accompanied by several young men of Ḥíra. When Máriya perceived him, she cried to Hind, "Look at this youth: by God, he is fairer than the lamps and all things else that thou seest." "Who is he?" she asked. "‘Adí, son of Zayd." "Do you think," said Hind, "that he will recognise me if I come nearer?" Then she advanced and watched him as he conversed with his friends, outshining them all by the beauty of his person, the elegance of his language, and the splendour of his dress. "Speak to him," said Máriya to her young mistress, whose countenance betrayed her feelings. After exchanging a few words the lovers parted. Máriya went to ‘Adí and promised, if he would first gratify her wishes, to bring about his union with Hind. She lost no time in warning Nu‘mán that his daughter was desperately in love with ‘Adí and would either disgrace herself or die of grief unless he gave her to him. Nu‘mán, however, was too proud to make overtures to ‘Adí, who on his part feared to anger the prince by proposing an alliance. The ingenious Máriya found a way out of the difficulty. She suggested that ‘Adí should invite Nu‘mán and his suite to a banquet, His marriage to Hind. and having well plied him with wine should ask for the hand of his daughter, which would not then be refused. So it came to pass. Nu‘mán gave his consent to the marriage, and after three days Hind was brought home to her husband.[100]

On the death of Mundhir IV ‘Adí warmly supported the claims of Nu‘mán, who had formerly been his pupil and was ‘Adí secures the election of Nu‘mán as King of Ḥíra. now his father-in-law, to the throne of Ḥíra. The ruse which he employed on this occasion was completely successful, but it cost him his life.[101] The partisans of Aswad b. Mundhir, one of the defeated candidates, resolved on vengeance. Their intrigues awakened He is imprisoned and put to death by Nu‘mán.the suspicions of Nu‘mán against the 'King-maker.' ‘Adí was cast into prison, where he languished for a long time and was finally murdered by Nu‘mán when the Chosroes (Parwéz, son of Hurmuz) had already intervened to procure his release.[102]

‘Adí left a son named Zayd, who, on the recommendation of Nu‘mán, was appointed by Khusraw Parwéz to succeed his The vengeance of Zayd b. ‘Adí. father as Secretary for Arabian Affairs at the court of Ctesiphon. Apparently reconciled to Nu‘mán, he was none the less bent on vengeance, and only waited for an opportunity. The kings of Persia were connoisseurs in female beauty, and when they desired to replenish their harems they used to circulate an advertisement describing with extreme particularity the physical and moral qualities which were to be sought after;[103] but hitherto they had neglected Arabia, which, as they supposed, could not furnish any woman possessed of these perfections. Zayd therefore approached the Chosroes and said: "I know that Nu‘mán has in his family a number of women answering to the description. Let me go to him, and send with me one of thy guardsmen who understands Arabic." The Chosroes complied, and Zayd set out for Ḥíra. On learning the object of his mission, Nu‘mán exclaimed with indignation: "What! are not the gazelles of Persia sufficient for your needs?" The comparison of a beautiful woman to a gazelle is a commonplace in Arabian poetry, but the officer accompanying Zayd was ill acquainted with Arabic, and asked the meaning of the word (‘ín or mahá) which Nu‘mán had employed. "Cows," said Zayd. When Parwéz heard from Death of Nu‘mán III. his guardsman that Nu‘mán had said, "Do not the cows of Persia content him?" he could scarcely suppress his rage. Soon afterwards he sent for Nu‘mán, threw him into chains, and caused him to be trampled to pieces by elephants.[104]

Nu‘mán III appears in tradition as a tyrannical prince, devoted to wine, women, and song. He was the patron of many celebrated poets, and especially of Nábigha Character of Nu‘mán III. Dhubyání, who was driven from Ḥíra in consequence of a false accusation. This episode, as well as another in which the poet Munakhkhal was concerned, gives us a glimpse into the private life of Nu‘mán. He had married his step-mother, Mutajarrida, a great beauty in her time; but though he loved her passionately, she bestowed her affections elsewhere. Nábigha was suspected on account of a poem in which he described the charms of the queen with the utmost minuteness, but Munakhkhal was the real culprit. The lovers were surprised by Nu‘mán, and from that day Munakhkhal was never seen again. Hence the proverb, "Until Munakhkhal shall return," or, as we might say, "Until the coming of the Coqcigrues."

Although several of the kings of Ḥíra are said to have been Christians, it is very doubtful whether any except Nu‘mán III deserved even the name; the Lakhmites, unlike Nu‘mán's conversion to Christianity. the majority of their subjects, were thoroughly pagan. Nu‘mán's education would naturally predispose him to Christianity, and his conversion may have been wrought, as the legend asserts, by his mentor ‘Adí b. Zayd.

According to Muḥammadan genealogists, the Ghassánids, both those settled in Medína and those to whom the name is consecrated by popular usage—the Ghassánids The Ghassánids or Jafnites. of Syria—are descended from ‘Amr b. ‘Ámir al-Muzayqiyá, who, as was related in the last chapter, sold his possessions in Yemen and quitted the country, taking with him a great number of its inhabitants, shortly before the Bursting of the Dyke of Ma’rib. His son Jafna is generally regarded as the founder of the dynasty. Of their early history very few authentic facts have been preserved. At first, we are told, they paid tribute to the Ḍajá‘ima, a family of the stock of Salíḥ, who ruled the Syrian borderlands under Roman protection. A struggle ensued, from which the Ghassánids emerged victorious, and henceforth we find them established in these regions as the representatives of Roman authority with the official titles of Patricius and Phylarch, which they and the Arabs around them rendered after the simple Oriental fashion by 'King' (malik).

The first (says Ibn Qutayba) that reigned in Syria of the family of Jafna was Ḥárith b. ‘Amr Muḥarriq, who was so called because Ibn Qutayba's account of the Ghassánids. he burnt (ḥarraqa) the Arabs in their houses. He is Ḥárith the Elder (al-Akbar), and his name of honour (kunya) is Abú Shamir. After him reigned Ḥárith b. Abí Shamir, known as Ḥárith the Lame (al-A‘raj), whose mother was Máriya of the Ear-rings. He was the best of their kings, and the most fortunate, and the craftiest; and in his raids he went the farthest afield. He led an expedition against Khaybar[105] and carried off a number of prisoners, but set them free after his return to Syria. When Mundhir b. Má’ al-samá marched against him with an army 100,000 strong, Ḥárith sent Ḥárith the Lame. a hundred men to meet him—among them the poet Labíd, who was then a youth—ostensibly to make peace. They surrounded Mundhir's tent and slew the king and his companions; then they took horse, and some escaped, while others were slain. The Ghassánid cavalry attacked the army of Mundhir and put them to flight. Ḥárith had a daughter named Ḥalíma, who perfumed the hundred champions on that day and clad them in shrouds of white linen and coats of mail. She is the heroine of the proverb, "The day of Ḥalíma is no secret."[106] Ḥárith was succeeded by his son, Ḥárith the Younger. Among his other sons were ‘Amr b. Ḥárith (called Abú Shamir the Younger), to whom Nábigha came on leaving Nu‘mán b. Mundhir; Mundhir b. Ḥárith; and al-Ayham b. Ḥárith. Jabala, the son of al-Ayham, was the last of the kings of Ghassán. He was twelve spans in height, and his feet brushed the ground when he rode on horseback. He reached the Islamic period and became a Moslem in the Caliphate of ‘Umar b. al-Khaṭṭáb, Jabala b. al-Ayham. but afterwards he turned Christian and went to live in the Byzantine Empire. The occasion of his turning Christian was this: In passing through the bazaar of Damascus he let his horse tread upon one of the bystanders, who sprang up and struck Jabala a blow on the face. The Ghassánís seized the fellow and brought him before Abú ‘Ubayda b. al-Jarráḥ,[107] complaining that he had struck their master. Abú ‘Ubayda demanded proof. "What use wilt thou make of the proof?" said Jabala. He answered: "If he has struck thee, thou wilt strike him a blow in return." "And shall not he be slain?" "No." "Shall not his hand be cut off?" "No," said Abú ‘Ubayda; "God has ordained retaliation only—blow for blow." Then Jabala went forth and betook himself to Roman territory and became a Christian; and he stayed there all the rest of his life.[108]

The Arabian traditions respecting the dynasty of Ghassán are hopelessly confused and supply hardly any material even for Ḥárith the Lame. the rough historical sketch which may be pieced together from the scattered notices in Byzantine authors.[109] It would seem that the first unquestionable Ghassánid prince was Ḥárith b. Jabala (Ἀρέθας τοῦ Γαβάλα), who figures in Arabian chronicles as 'Ḥárith the Lame,' and who was appointed by Justinian (about 529 a.d.) to balance, on the Roman side, the active and enterprising King of Ḥíra, Mundhir b. Má’ al-samá. During the greater part of his long reign (529-569 a.d.) he was engaged in war with this dangerous rival, to whose defeat and death in the decisive battle of Ḥalíma we have already referred. Like all his line, Ḥárith was a Christian of the Monophysite Church, which he defended with equal zeal and success at a time when its very existence was at stake. The following story illustrates his formidable character. Towards the end of his life he visited Constantinople to arrange with the Imperial Government which of his sons should succeed him, and made a powerful impression on the people of that city, especially on the Emperor's nephew, Justinus. Many years afterwards, when Justinus had fallen into dotage, the chamberlains would frighten him, when he began to rave, with "Hush! Arethas will come and take you."[110]

Ḥárith was succeeded by his son, Mundhir, who vanquished the new King of Ḥíra, Qábús b. Hind, on Ascension Day, Mundhir b. Ḥárith.570 a.d., in a battle which is perhaps identical with that celebrated by the Arabs as the Battle of ‘Ayn Ubágh. The refusal of the Emperor Justinus to furnish him with money may have prevented Mundhir from pursuing his advantage, and was the beginning of open hostility between them, which culminated about eleven years later in his being carried off to Constantinople and forced to reside in Sicily.

From this time to the Persian conquest of Palestine (614 a.d.) anarchy prevailed throughout the Ghassánid kingdom. The various tribes elected their own princes, who sometimes, no doubt, were Jafnites; but the dynasty had virtually broken up. Possibly it was restored by Heraclius when he drove the Persians out of Syria (629 a.d.), as the Ghassánians are repeatedly found fighting for Rome against the Moslems, and according to the unanimous testimony of Arabian writers, the Jafnite Jabala b. al-Ayham, who took an active part in the struggle, was the last king of Ghassán. His accession may be placed about 635 a.d. The poet Ḥassán b. Thábit, who as a native of Medína could claim kinship with the Ghassánids, and visited their court in his youth, gives a glowing description of its luxury and magnificence.

"I have seen ten singing-girls, five of them Greeks, singing Greek songs to the music of lutes, and five from Ḥíra who had been presented to King Jabala by Iyás b. Qabíṣa,[111] chanting Ḥassán b. Thábit's picture of the Ghassánid court. Babylonian airs. Arab singers used to come from Mecca and elsewhere for his delight; and when he would drink wine he sat on a couch of myrtle and jasmine and all sorts of sweet-smelling flowers, surrounded by gold and silver vessels full of ambergris and musk. During winter aloes-wood was burned in his apartments, while in summer he cooled himself with snow. Both he and his courtiers wore light robes, arranged with more regard to comfort than ceremony,[112] in the hot weather, and white furs, called fanak,[113] or the like, in the cold season; and, by God, I was never in his company but he gave me the robe which he was wearing on that day, and many of his friends were thus honoured. He treated the rude with forbearance; he laughed without reserve and lavished his gifts before they were sought. He was handsome, and agreeable in conversation: I never knew him offend in speech or act."[114]

Unlike the rival dynasty on the Euphrates, the Ghassánids had no fixed residence. They ruled the country round Damascus and Palmyra, but these places were never in their possession. The capital of their nomad kingdom was the temporary camp (in Aramaic, ḥértá) which followed them to and fro, but was generally to be found in the Gaulonitis (al-Jawlán), south of Damascus. Thus under the quickening impulse of Hellenistic culture the Ghassánids developed a civilisation far superior to that of the Lakhmites, who, Ghassánid civilisation. just because of their half-barbarian character, were more closely in touch with the heathen Arabs, and exercised a deeper influence upon them. Some aspects of this civilisation have been indicated in the description of Jabala b. al-Ayham's court, attributed to the poet Ḥassán. An earlier bard, the famous Nábigha, having fallen out of favour with Nu‘mán III of Híra, fled to Syria, where he composed a splendid eulogy of the Ghassánids Nábigha's encomium. in honour of his patron, King ‘Amr, son of Ḥárith the Lame. After celebrating their warlike prowess, which he has immortalised in the oft-quoted verse—

"One fault they have: their swords are blunt of edge Through constant beating on their foemen's mail,"

he concludes in a softer strain:

"Theirs is a liberal nature that God gave To no men else; their virtues never fail. Their home the Holy Land: their faith upright: They hope to prosper if good deeds avail. Zoned in fair wise and delicately shod, They keep the Feast of Palms, when maidens pale, Whose scarlet silken robes on trestles hang, Greet them with odorous boughs and bid them hail. Long lapped in ease tho' bred to war, their limbs Green-shouldered vestments, white-sleeved, richly veil."[115]

The Pre-islamic history of the Bedouins is mainly a record of wars, or rather guerillas, in which a great deal of raiding and plundering was accomplished, as a rule without serious bloodshed. There was no lack of shouting; volleys of vaunts and satires were exchanged; camels and women were carried off; many skirmishes took place but few pitched battles: it was an Homeric kind of warfare that called forth individual exertion in the highest degree, and gave ample opportunity for single-handed deeds of heroism. "To write a true history of such Bedouin feuds is well-nigh impossible. As comparatively trustworthy sources of information we have only the Character of Bedouin history. poems and fragments of verse which have been preserved. According to Suyúṭí, the Arabian traditionists used to demand from any Bedouin who related an historical event the citation of some verses in its support; and, in effect, all such stories that have come down to us are crystallised round the poems. Unfortunately these crystals are seldom pure. It appears only too often that the narratives have been invented, with abundant fancy and with more or less skill, to suit the contents of the verses."[116] But although what is traditionally related concerning the Battle-days of the Arabs (Ayyámu ’l-‘Arab) is to a large extent legendary, it describes with sufficient fidelity how tribal hostilities generally arose and the way in which they were conducted. The following account of the War of Basús—the most famous of those waged in Pre-islamic times—will serve to illustrate this important phase of Bedouin life.[117]

Towards the end of the fifth century a.d. Kulayb, son of Rabí‘a, was chieftain of the Banú Taghlib, a powerful tribe which divided with their kinsmen, the Banú Bakr, a vast tract in War of Basús. north-eastern Arabia, extending from the central highlands to the Syrian desert. His victory at the head of a confederacy formed by these tribes and others over the Yemenite Arabs made him the first man in the peninsula, and soon his pride became no less proverbial than his power.[118] He was married to Ḥalíla, daughter of Murra, of the Banú Bakr, and dwelt in a 'preserve' (ḥimá), where he claimed the sole right of pasturage for himself and the sons of Murra. His brother-in-law, Jassás, had an aunt named Basús. While living under her nephew's protection she was joined by a certain Sa‘d, a client of her own people, who brought with him a she-camel called Sarábi.

Now it happened that Kulayb, seeing a lark's nest as he walked on his land, said to the bird, which was screaming and fluttering Kulayb b. Rabí‘a and Jassás b. Murra. distressfully over her eggs, "Have no fear! I will protect thee." But a short time afterwards he observed in that place the track of a strange camel and found the eggs trodden to pieces. Next morning when he and Jassás visited the pasture ground, Kulayb noticed the she-camel of Sa‘d among his brother-in-law's herd, and conjecturing that she had destroyed the eggs, cried out to Jassás, "Take heed thou! Take heed! I have pondered something, and were I sure, I would have done it! May this she-camel never come here again with this herd!" "By God," exclaimed Jassás, "but she shall come!" and when Kulayb threatened to pierce her udder with an arrow, Jassás retorted, "By the stones of Wá’il,[119] fix thine arrow in her udder and I will fix my lance in thy backbone!" Then he drove his camels forth from the ḥimá. Kulayb went home in a passion, and said to his wife, who sought to discover what ailed him, "Knowest thou any one who durst defend his client against me?" She answered, "No one except my brother Jassás, if he has given his word." She did what she could to prevent the quarrel going further, and for a time nothing worse than taunts passed between them, until one day Kulayb went to look after his camels which were being taken to water, and were followed by those of Jassás. While the latter were waiting their turn to The wounding of Sa‘d's she-camel. drink, Sa‘d's she-camel broke loose and ran towards the water. Kulayb imagined that Jassás had let her go deliberately, and resenting the supposed insult, he seized his bow and shot her through the udder. The beast lay down, moaning loudly, before the tent of Basús, who in vehement indignation at the wrong suffered by her friend, Sa‘d, tore the veil from her head, beating her face and crying, "O shame, shame!" Then, addressing Sa‘d, but raising her voice so that Jassás might hear, she spoke these verses, which are known as 'The Instigators' (al-Muwaththibát):—

"O Sa‘d, be not deceived! Protect thyself! This people for their clients have no care. Verses spoken by Basús. Look to my herds, I charge thee, for I doubt Even my little daughters ill may fare. By thy life, had I been in Minqar's house, Thou would'st not have been wronged, my client, there! But now such folk I dwell among that when The wolf comes, 'tis my sheep he comes to tear!"[120]

Jassás was stung to the quick by the imputation, which no Arab can endure, that injury and insult might be inflicted upon his guest-friend with impunity. Some days afterwards, having ascertained that Kulayb had gone out unarmed, he followed and slew him, and fled in haste to his own people. Murra, when he heard the news, said to his son, "Thou alone must answer for thy deed: thou shalt be put in chains that his kinsmen may slay thee. By the stones of Wá’il, never will Bakr and Taghlib be joined together Kulayb murdered by Jassás. in welfare after the death of Kulayb. Verily, an evil thing hast thou brought upon thy people, O Jassás! Thou hast slain their chief and severed their union and cast war into their midst." So he put Jassás in chains and confined him in a tent; then he summoned the elders of the families and asked them, "What do ye say concerning Jassás? Here he is, a prisoner, until the avengers demand him and we deliver him unto them." "No, by God," cried Sa‘d b. Málik b. Ḍubay‘a b. Qays, "we will not give him up, but will fight for him to the last man!" With these words he called for a camel to be sacrificed, and when its throat was cut they swore to one another over the blood. Thereupon Murra said to Jassás:—

"If war thou hast wrought and brought on me, No laggard I with arms outworn. Verses of Murra, the father of Jassás. Whate'er befall, I make to flow The baneful cups of death at morn. When spear-points clash, my wounded man Is forced to drag the spear he stained. Never I reck, if war must be, What Destiny hath preordained. Donning war's harness, I will strive To fend from me the shame that sears. Already I thrill and my lust is roused For the shock of the horsemen against the spears!"[121]

Thus began the War of Basús between Taghlib on the one side and the clan of Shaybán, to which Murra belonged, on the other; Outbreak of war between Taghlib and Bakr. for at first the remaining divisions of Bakr held aloof from the struggle, considering Shaybán to be clearly in the wrong. The latter were reduced to dire straits, when an event occurred which caused the Bakrites to rise as one man on behalf of their fellows. Ḥárith b.‘Ubád, a famous knight of Bakr, had refused to take part in the contest, saying in words which became proverbial, "I have neither camel nor she-camel in it," i.e., "it is no affair of mine." One day his nephew, Bujayr, encountered Kulayb's brother, Muhalhil, on whom the mantle of the murdered chief had fallen; and Muhalhil, struck with admiration for the youth's comeliness, asked him who he was. "Bujayr," said he, "the son of ‘Amr, the son of ‘Ubád." "And who is thy uncle on the mother's side?" "My mother is a captive" (for he would not name an uncle of whom he had no honour). Then Muhalhil slew him, crying, "Pay for Kulayb's shoe-latchet!" On hearing this, Ḥárith sent a message to Muhalhil in which he declared that if vengeance were satisfied by the death of Bujayr, he for his part would gladly acquiesce. But Muhalhil replied, "I have taken satisfaction only for Kulayb's shoe-latchet." Thereupon Ḥárith sprang up in wrath and cried:—

"God knows, I kindled not this fire, altho' I am burned in it to-day. A lord for a shoe-latchet is too dear: To horse! To horse! Away!"[122]

And al-Find, of the Banú Bakr, said on this occasion:—

"We spared the Banú Hind[123] and said, 'Our brothers they remain: It may be Time will make of us one people yet again.'" But when the wrong grew manifest, and naked Ill stood plain, Verses by
al-Find. And naught was left but ruthless hate, we paid them bane with bane! As lions marched we forth to war in wrath and high disdain: Our swords brought widowhood and tears and wailing in their train, Our spears dealt gashes wide whence blood like water spilled amain. No way but Force to weaken Force and mastery obtain; 'Tis wooing contumely to meet wild actions with humane: By evil thou may'st win to peace when good is tried in vain."[124]

The Banú Bakr now prepared for a decisive battle. As their enemy had the advantage in numbers, they adopted a stratagem devised by Ḥárith. "Fight them," said he, "with your women. Equip every woman with a small waterskin and give her a club. Place the whole body of them behind you—this will make you more resolved in battle—and wear some distinguishing mark which they will recognise, so that when a woman passes by one of your wounded she may know him by his mark and give him water to drink, and raise him from the ground; but when she passes by one of your foes she will smite him with her club and slay him." So the Bakrites shaved their heads, devoting themselves to The Day of Shearing. death, and made this a mark of recognition between themselves and their women, and this day was called the Day of Shearing. Now Jaḥdar b. Ḍubay‘a was an ill-favoured, dwarfish man, with fair flowing love-locks, and he said, "O my people, if ye shave my head ye will disfigure me, so leave my locks for the first horseman of Taghlib that shall emerge from the hill-pass on the morrow" (meaning "I will answer for him, if my locks are spared"). On his request being granted, he exclaimed:—

"To wife and daughter Henceforth I am dead: Dust for ointment On my hair is shed.

The vow of Jaḥdar b. Ḍubay‘a. Let me close with the horsemen Who hither ride, Cut my locks from me If I stand aside!

Well wots a mother If the son she bore And swaddled on her bosom And smelt him o'er,

Whenever warriors In the mellay meet, Is a puny weakling Or a man complete!"[125]

He kept his promise but in the course of the fight he fell, severely wounded. When the women came to him, they saw his love-locks and imagining that he was an enemy despatched him with their clubs.

The presence of women on the field and the active share they Women as combatants.took in the combat naturally provoked the bitterest feelings. If they were not engaged in finishing the bloody work of the men, their tongues were busy inciting them. We are told that a daughter of al-Find bared herself recklessly and chanted:—

"War! War! War! War! It has blazed up and scorched us sore. The highlands are filled with its roar. Well done, the morning when your heads ye shore!"[126]

The mothers were accompanied by their children, whose tender age did not always protect them from an exasperated foe. It is related that a horseman of the Banú Taghlib transfixed a young boy and lifted him up on the point of his spear. He is said to have been urged to this act of savagery by one al-Bazbáz, who was riding behind him on the crupper. Their triumph was short; al-Find saw them, and with a single spear-thrust pinned them to each other—an exploit which his own verses record.

On this day the Banú Bakr gained a great victory, and broke the power of Taghlib. It was the last battle of note in the Forty Years' War, which was carried on, by raiding and plundering, until the exhaustion of both tribes and the influence of King Mundhir III of Ḥíra brought it to an end.

Not many years after the conclusion of peace between Bakr and Taghlib, another war, hardly less famous in tradition The War of Dáḥis and Ghabrá. than the War of Basús, broke out in Central Arabia. The combatants were the tribes of ‘Abs and Dhubyán, the principal stocks of the Banú Ghaṭafán, and the occasion of their coming to blows is related as follows:—

Qays, son of Zuhayr, was chieftain of ‘Abs. He had a horse called Dáḥis, renowned for its speed, which he matched against Ghabrá, a mare belonging to Ḥudhayfa b. Badr, the chief of Dhubyán. It was agreed that the course should be a hundred bow-shots in length, and that the victor should receive a hundred camels. When the race began Ghabrá took the lead, but as they left the firm ground and entered upon the sand, where the 'going' was heavy, Dáḥis gradually drew level and passed his antagonist. He was nearing the goal when some Dhubyánites sprang from an ambuscade prepared beforehand, and drove him out of his course, thus enabling Ghabrá to defeat him. On being informed of this foul play Qays naturally claimed that he had won the wager, but the men of Dhubyán refused to pay even a single camel. Bitterly resenting their treachery, he waylaid and slew one of Ḥudhayfa's brothers. Ḥudhayfa sought vengeance, and the murder of Málik, a brother of Qays, by his horsemen gave the signal for war. In the fighting which ensued Dhubyán more than held their own, but neither party could obtain a decisive advantage. Qays slew the brothers Ḥudhayfa and Ḥamal—

"Ḥamal I slew and eased my heart thereby, Ḥudhayfa glutted my avenging brand; But though I slaked my thirst by slaying them, I would as lief have lost my own right hand."[127]

After a long period—forty years according to the traditional computation—‘Abs and Dhubyán were reconciled by the exertions of two chieftains of the latter tribe, Ḥárith b. ‘Awf and Harim b. Sinán, whose generous and patriotic intervention the poet Zuhayr has celebrated. Qays went into exile. "I will not look," he said, "on the face of any woman of Dhubyán whose father or brother or husband or son I have killed." If we may believe the legend, he became a Christian monk and ended his days in ‘Umán.

Descending westward from the highlands of Najd the traveller gradually approaches the Red Sea, which is separated from the mountains running parallel to it by a The Ḥijáz. narrow strip of coast-land, called the Tiháma (Netherland). The rugged plateau between Najd and the coast forms the Ḥijáz (Barrier), through which in ancient times the Sabæan caravans laden with costly merchandise passed on their way to the Mediterranean ports. Long before the beginning of our era two considerable trading settlements had sprung up in this region, viz., Macoraba (Mecca) and, some distance farther north, Yathrippa (Yathrib, the Pre-islamic name of Medína). Of their early inhabitants and history we know nothing except what is related by Muḥammadan writers, whose information reaches back to the days of Adam and Abraham. Mecca was the cradle of Islam, and Islam, according to Muḥammad, is the religion of Abraham, which was corrupted by succeeding generations until he himself was sent to purify it and to preach it anew. Consequently the Pre-islamic history of Mecca has all been, so to speak, 'Islamised.' The Holy City of Islam is made to appear in the same light thousands of years before the Prophet's time: here, it is said, the Arabs were united in worship of Allah, hence they scattered and fell into idolatry, hither they return annually as pilgrims to a shrine which had been originally dedicated to the One Supreme Being, but which afterwards became a Pantheon of tribal deities. This theory lies at the root of the Muḥammadan legend which I shall now recount as briefly as possible, only touching on the salient points of interest.

In the Meccan valley—the primitive home of that portion of the Arab race which claims descent from Ismá‘íl (Ishmael), the son of Ibráhím (Abraham) by Hájar (Hagar)—stands an irregular, cube-shaped building of small dimensions—the Ka‘ba. Legend attributes its foundation Foundation of the Ka‘ba. to Adam, who built it by Divine command after a celestial archetype. At the Deluge it was taken up into heaven, but was rebuilt on its former site by Abraham and Ishmael. While they were occupied in this work Gabriel brought the celebrated Black Stone, which is set in the south-east corner of the building, and he also instructed them in the ceremonies of the Pilgrimage. When all was finished Abraham stood on a rock known to later ages as the Maqámu Ibráhím, and, turning to the four quarters of the sky, made proclamation: "O ye people! The Pilgrimage to the Ancient House is prescribed unto you. Hearken to your Lord!" And from every part of the world came the answer: "Labbayka ’lláhumma, labbayka"—i.e., "We obey, O God, we obey."

The descendants of Ishmael multiplied exceedingly, so that the barren valley could no longer support them, and a great number wandered forth to other lands. They were succeeded as rulers of the sacred territory by the tribe of Jurhum, who waxed in pride and evil-doing until the vengeance of God fell upon them. Mention has frequently been made of the Bursting of the Dyke of Ma’rib, which caused an extensive movement of Yemenite stocks to the north. The invaders halted in the Ḥijáz and, having almost exterminated the Jurhumites, resumed their journey. One group, however—the Banú Khuzá‘a, led by their chief Luḥayy—settled in the neighbourhood of Mecca. ‘Amr, son of Luḥayy, was renowned among the Arabs for his wealth and generosity. Ibn Hishám says: 'I have been told by a learned man that ‘Amr b. Luḥayy went from Mecca to Syria on some business Idolatry introduced at Mecca. and when he arrived at Má’ab, in the land of al-Balqá, he found the inhabitants, who were ‘Amálíq, worshipping idols. "What are these idols?" he inquired. "They are idols that send us rain when we ask them for rain, and help us when we ask them for help." "Will ye not give me one of them," said ‘Amr, "that I may take it to Arabia to be worshipped there?" So they gave him an idol called Hubal, which he brought to Mecca and set it up and bade the people worship and venerate it.'[128] Following his example, the Arabs brought their idols and installed them round the sanctuary. The triumph of Paganism was complete. We are told that hundreds of idols were destroyed by Muḥammad when he entered Mecca at the head of a Moslem army in 8 a.h. = 629 a.d.

To return to the posterity of Ismá‘íl through ‘Adnán: the principal of their descendants who remained in the Ḥijáz were The Quraysh. the Hudhayl, the Kinána, and the Quraysh. The last-named tribe must now engage our attention almost exclusively. During the century before Muḥammad we find them in undisputed possession of Mecca and acknowledged guardians of the Ka‘ba—an office which they administered with a shrewd appreciation of its commercial value. Their rise to power is related as follows:—

Kiláb b. Murra, a man of Quraysh, had two sons, Zuhra and Zayd. The latter was still a young child when his father died, and soon afterwards his mother, Fáṭima, who had married again, The story of Quṣayy. left Mecca, taking Zayd with her, and went to live in her new husband's home beside the Syrian borders. Zayd grew up far from his native land, and for this reason he got the name of Quṣayy—i.e., 'Little Far-away.' When he reached man's estate and discovered his true origin he returned to Mecca, where the hegemony was wholly in the hands of the Khuzá‘ites under their chieftain, Ḥulayl b. Ḥubshiyya, with the determination to procure the superintendence of the Ka‘ba for his own people, the Quraysh, who as pure-blooded descendants of Ismá‘íl had the best right to that honour. By his marriage with Ḥubbá, the daughter of Ḥulayl, he hoped to inherit the privileges vested in his father-in-law, but Ḥulayl on his deathbed committed the keys of the Ka‘ba to a kinsman named Abú Ghubshán. Not to be baffled, Quṣayy made the keeper drunk and persuaded him to sell the keys for a skin of wine—hence the proverbs "A greater fool than Abú Ghubshán" and "Abú Ghubshán's bargain," denoting a miserable fraud. Naturally the Khuza‘ites did not acquiesce in the results of this transaction; they took up arms, but Quṣayy was prepared for the struggle and won a decisive victory. He was now master of Temple and Town and could proceed to the work of organisation. His first step was to bring together the Quraysh, who had Quṣayy master of Mecca. previously been dispersed over a wide area, into the Meccan valley—this earned for him the title of al-Mujammi‘ (the Congregator)—so that each family had its allotted quarter. He built a House of Assembly (Dáru ’l-Nadwa), where matters affecting the common weal were discussed by the Elders of the tribe. He also instituted and centred in himself a number of dignities in connection with the government of the Ka‘ba and the administration of the Pilgrimage, besides others of a political and military character. Such was his authority that after his death, no less than during his life, all these ordinances were regarded by the Quraysh as sacred and inviolable.

The death of Quṣayy may be placed in the latter half of the fifth century. His descendant, the Prophet Muḥammad, was Mecca in the sixth century after Christ. born about a hundred years afterwards, in 570 or 571 a.d. With one notable exception, to be mentioned immediately, the history of Mecca during the period thus defined is a record of petty factions unbroken by any event of importance. The Prophet's ancestors fill the stage and assume a commanding position, which in all likelihood they never possessed; the historical rivalry of the Umayyads and ‘Abbásids appears in the persons of their founders, Umayya and Háshim—and so forth. Meanwhile the influence of the Quraysh was steadily maintained and extended. The Ka‘ba had become a great national rendezvous, and the crowds of pilgrims which it attracted from almost every Arabian clan not only raised the credit of the Quraysh, but also materially contributed to their commercial prosperity. It has already been related how Abraha, the Abyssinian viceroy of Yemen, resolved to march against Mecca with the avowed purpose of avenging upon the Ka‘ba a sacrilege committed by one of the Quraysh in the church at Ṣan‘á. Something of that kind may have served as a pretext, but no doubt his real aim was to conquer Mecca and to gain control of her trade.

This memorable expedition[129] is said by Moslem historians to have taken place in the year of Muḥammad's birth (about The Year of the Elephant. 570 a.d.), usually known as the Year of the Elephant—a proof that the Arabs were deeply impressed by the extraordinary spectacle of these huge animals, one or more of which accompanied the Abyssinian force. The report of Abraha's preparations filled the tribesmen with dismay. At first they endeavoured to oppose his march, regarding the defence of the Ka‘ba as a sacred duty, but they soon lost heart, and Abraha, after defeating Dhú Nafar, a Ḥimyarite chieftain, encamped in the neighbourhood of Mecca without further resistance. He sent the following message to ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib, the The Abyssinians at Mecca. Prophet's grandfather, who was at that time the most influential personage in Mecca: "I have not come to wage war on you, but only to destroy the Temple. Unless you take up arms in its defence, I have no wish to shed your blood." ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib replied: "By God, we seek not war, for which we are unable. This is God's holy House and the House of Abraham, His Friend; it is for Him to protect His House and Sanctuary; if He abandons it, we cannot defend it."

Then ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib was conducted by the envoy to the Abyssinian camp, as Abraha had ordered. There he inquired after Dhú Nafar, who was his friend, and found him a ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib's interview with Abraha. prisoner. "O Dhú Nafar," said he, "can you do aught in that which has befallen us?" Dhú Nafar answered, "What can a man do who is a captive in the hands of a king, expecting day and night to be put to death? I can do nothing at all in the matter, but Unays, the elephant-driver, is my friend; I will send to him and press your claims on his consideration and ask him to procure you an audience with the king. Tell Unays what you wish: he will plead with the king in your favour if he can." So Dhú Nafar sent for Unays and said to him, "O Unays, ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib is lord of Quraysh and master of the caravans of Mecca. He feeds the people in the plain and the wild creatures on the mountain-tops. The king has seized two hundred of his camels. Now get him admitted to the king's presence and help him to the best of your power." Unays consented, and soon ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib stood before the king. When Abraha saw him he held him in too high respect to let him sit in an inferior place, but was unwilling that the Abyssinians should see the Arab chief, who was a large man and a comely, seated on a level with himself; he therefore descended from his throne and sat on his carpet and bade ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib sit beside him. Then he said to his dragoman, "Ask him what he wants of me." ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib replied, "I want the king to restore to me two hundred camels of mine which he has taken away." Abraha said to the dragoman, "Tell him: You pleased me when I first saw you, but now that you have spoken to me I hold you cheap. What! do you speak to me of two hundred camels which I have taken, and omit to speak of a temple venerated by you and your fathers which I have come to destroy?" Then said ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib: "The camels are mine, but the Temple belongs to another, who will defend it," and on the king exclaiming, "He cannot defend it from me," he said, "That is your affair; only give me back my camels."

As it is related in a more credible version, the tribes settled round Mecca sent ambassadors, of whom ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib was one, offering to surrender a third part of their possessions to Abraha on condition that he should spare the Temple, but he refused. Having recovered his camels, ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib returned to the Quraysh, told them what had happened, and bade them leave the city and take shelter in the mountains. Then he went to the Ka‘ba, accompanied by several of the Quraysh, to pray for help against Abraha and his army. Grasping the ring of the door, he cried:—

"O God, defend Thy neighbouring folk even as a man his gear[130] defendeth! Let not their Cross and guileful plans defeat the plans Thyself intendeth! But if Thou make it so, 'tis well: according to Thy will it endeth."[131]

Next morning, when Abraha prepared to enter Mecca, his elephant knelt down and would not budge, though they beat its head with an axe and thrust sharp stakes into its flanks; but when they turned it in the direction of Yemen, it rose up and trotted with alacrity. Then God sent from the sea a flock of birds like swallows every one of which carried three stones as large as a Rout of the Abyssinians. chick-pea or a lentil, one in its bill and one in each claw, and all who were struck by those stones perished.[132] The rest fled in disorder, dropping down as they ran or wherever they halted to quench their thirst. Abraha himself was smitten with a plague so that his limbs rotted off piecemeal.[133]

These details are founded on the 105th chapter of the Koran, entitled 'The Súra of the Elephant,' which may be freely rendered as follows:—

"Hast not thou seen the people of the Elephant, how dealt with them the Lord? Did not He make their plot to end in ruin abhorred?— When He sent against them birds, horde on horde, And stones of baked clay upon them poured, And made them as leaves of corn devoured."

The part played by ‘Abdu ’l-Muṭṭalib in the story is, of course, a pious fiction designed to glorify the Holy City and to claim for the Prophet's family fifty years before Islam a predominance which they did not obtain until long afterwards; but equally of course the legend reflects Muḥammadan belief, and may be studied with advantage as a characteristic specimen of its class.

"When God repulsed the Abyssinians from Mecca and smote them with His vengeance, the Arabs held the Quraysh in high respect and said, 'They are God's people: God hath fought for them and hath defended them against their enemy;' and made poems on this matter."[134] The following verses, according to Ibn Isḥáq, are by Abu ’l-Ṣalt b. Abí Rabí‘a of Thaqíf; others more reasonably ascribe them to his son Umayya, a well-known poet and monotheist (Ḥaníf) contemporary with Muḥammad:—

"Lo, the signs of our Lord are everlasting, None disputes them except the unbeliever. He created Day and Night: unto all men Is their Reckoning ordained, clear and certain. Gracious Lord! He illumines the daytime Verses by Umayya b. Abi ’l-Ṣalt. With a sun widely scattering radiance. He the Elephant stayed at Mughammas So that sore it limped as though it were hamstrung, Cleaving close to its halter, and down dropped, As one falls from the crag of a mountain. Gathered round it were princes of Kinda, Noble heroes, fierce hawks in the mellay. There they left it: they all fled together, Every man with his shank-bone broken. Vain before God is every religion, When the dead rise, except the Ḥanífite.[135]"

The patriotic feelings aroused in the Arabs of the Ḥijáz by the Abyssinian invasion—feelings which must have been shared to some extent by the Bedouins generally—received a fresh stimulus through events which occurred about forty years after this time on the other side of the peninsula. It will be remembered that the Lakhmite dynasty at Ḥíra came to an end with Nu‘mán III, who was cruelly executed by Khusraw Parwéz (602 or 607 a.d.).[136] Before his death he had deposited his arms and other property with Háni’, a chieftain of the Banú Bakr. These were claimed by Khusraw, and as Háni’ refused to give them up, a Persian army was sent to Dhú Qár, a place near Kúfa abounding in water and consequently a favourite resort of the Bakrites during the dry season. A desperate conflict ensued, in which the Persians Battle of Dhú Qár (circa 610 a.d.). were completely routed.[137] Although the forces engaged were comparatively small,[138] this victory was justly regarded by the Arabs as marking the commencement of a new order of things; e.g., it is related that Muḥammad said when the tidings reached him: "This is the first day on which the Arabs have obtained satisfaction from the Persians." The desert tribes, hitherto overshadowed by the Sásánian Empire and held in check by the powerful dynasty of Ḥíra, were now confident and aggressive. They began to hate and despise the Colossus which they no longer feared, and which, before many years had elapsed, they trampled in the dust.

CHAPTER III

PRE-ISLAMIC POETRY, MANNERS, AND RELIGION

"When there appeared a poet in a family of the Arabs, the other tribes round about would gather together to that family and wish them joy of their good luck. Feasts would be got ready, the women of the tribe would join together in bands, playing upon lutes, as they were wont to do at bridals, and the men and boys would congratulate one another; for a poet was a defence to the honour of them all, a weapon to ward off insult from their good name, and a means of perpetuating their glorious deeds and of establishing their fame for ever. And they used not to wish one another joy but for three things—the birth of a boy, the coming to light of a poet, and the foaling of a noble mare."[139]

As far as extant literature is concerned—and at this time there was only a spoken literature, which was preserved by oral tradition, and first committed to writing long afterwards—the Jáhiliyya or Pre-islamic Age covers scarcely more than a century, from about 500 a.d., when the oldest poems of which we have any record were composed, to the year of Muḥammad's Flight to Medína (622 a.d.), which is the starting-point of a new era in Arabian history. The influence of these hundred and twenty years was great and lasting. They saw the rise and incipient decline of a poetry which most Arabic-speaking Moslems have always regarded as a model of unapproachable excellence; a poetry rooted in the life of the people, that insensibly moulded their minds and fixed their character and made them morally and spiritually a nation long before Muḥammad welded the various conflicting groups into a single organism, animated, for some time at least, by a common purpose. In those days poetry was no luxury for the cultured few, but the sole medium of literary expression. Every tribe had its poets, who freely uttered what they felt and thought. Their unwritten words "flew across the desert faster than arrows," and came home to the hearts and bosoms of all who heard them. Thus in the midst of outward strife and disintegration a unifying principle was at work. Poetry gave life and currency to an ideal of Arabian virtue (muruwwa), which, though based on tribal community of blood and insisting that only ties of blood were sacred, nevertheless became an invisible bond between diverse clans, and formed, whether consciously or not, the basis of a national community of sentiment.

In the following pages I propose to trace the origins of Origins of Arabian PoetryArabian poetry, to describe its form, contents, and general features, to give some account of the most celebrated Pre-islamic poets and collections of Pre-islamic verse, and finally to show in what manner it was preserved and handed down.

By the ancient Arabs the poet (shá‘ir, plural shu‘ará), as his name implies, was held to be a person endowed with supernatural knowledge, a wizard in league with spirits (jinn) or satans (shayáṭín) and dependent on them for the magical powers which he displayed. This view of his personality, as well as the influential position which he occupied, are curiously indicated by the story of a certain youth who was refused the hand of his beloved on the ground that he was neither a poet nor a soothsayer nor a water-diviner.[140] The idea of poetry as an art was developed afterwards; the pagan shá‘ir is the oracle of his tribe, their guide in peace and their champion in war. It was to him they turned for counsel when they sought new pastures, only at his word would they pitch or strike their 'houses of hair,' and when the tired and thirsty wanderers found a well and drank of its water and washed themselves, led by him they may have raised their voices together and sung, like Israel—

"Spring up, O well, sing ye unto it."[141]

Besides fountain-songs, war-songs, and hymns to idols, other kinds of poetry must have existed in the earliest times—e.g., the love-song and the dirge. The powers of the shá‘ir, however, were chiefly exhibited in Satire (hijá), which in the Satire. oldest known form "introduces and accompanies the tribal feud, and is an element of war just as important as the actual fighting."[142] The menaces which he hurled against the foe were believed to be inevitably fatal. His rhymes, often compared to arrows, had all the effect of a solemn curse spoken by a divinely inspired prophet or priest,[143] and their pronunciation was attended with peculiar ceremonies of a symbolic character, such as anointing the hair on one side of the head, letting the mantle hang down loosely, and wearing only one sandal.[144] Satire retained something of these ominous associations at a much later period when the magic utterance of the shá‘ir had long given place to the lampoon by which the poet reviles his enemies and holds them up to shame.

The obscure beginnings of Arabian poetry, presided over by the magician and his familiar spirits, have left not a Saj‘. rack behind in the shape of literature, but the task of reconstruction is comparatively easy where we are dealing with a people so conservative and tenacious of antiquity as the Arabs. Thus it may be taken for certain that the oldest form of poetical speech in Arabia was rhyme without metre (Saj‘), or, as we should say, 'rhymed prose,' although the fact of Muḥammad's adversaries calling him a poet because he used it in the Koran shows the light in which it was regarded even after the invention and elaboration of metre. Later on, as we shall see, Saj‘ became a merely rhetorical ornament, the distinguishing mark of all eloquence whether spoken or written, but originally it had a deeper, almost religious, significance as the special form adopted by poets, soothsayers, and the like in their supernatural revelations and for conveying to the vulgar every kind of mysterious and esoteric lore.

Out of Saj‘ was evolved the most ancient of the Arabian metres, which is known by the name of Rajaz.[145] This is an irregular iambic metre usually consisting of four Rajaz. or six—an Arab would write 'two or three'—feet to the line; and it is a peculiarity of Rajaz, marking its affinity to Saj‘, that all the lines rhyme with each other, whereas in the more artificial metres only the opening verse[146] is doubly rhymed. A further characteristic of Rajaz is that it should be uttered extempore, a few verses at a time—commonly verses expressing some personal feeling, emotion, or experience, like those of the aged warrior Durayd b. Zayd b. Nahd when he lay dying:—

"The house of death[147] is builded for Durayd to-day. Could Time be worn out, sure had I worn Time away. No single foe but I had faced and brought to bay. The spoils I gathered in, how excellent were they! The women that I loved, how fine was their array!"[148]

Here would have been the proper place to give an account of the principal Arabian metres—the 'Perfect' (Kámil), the 'Ample' (Wáfir) the 'Long' (Ṭawíl), the Other metres. 'Wide' (Basiṭ), the 'Light' (Khafíf), and several more—but in order to save valuable space I must content myself with referring the reader to the extremely lucid treatment of this subject by Sir Charles Lyall in the Introduction to his Ancient Arabian Poetry, pp. xlv-lii. All the metres are quantitative, as in Greek and Latin. Their names and laws were unknown to the Pre-islamic bards: the rules of prosody were first deduced from the ancient poems and systematised by the grammarian, Khalíl b. Ahmad († 791 a.d.), to whom the idea is said to have occurred as he watched a coppersmith beating time on the anvil with his hammer.

We have now to consider the form and matter of the oldest extant poems in the Arabic language. Between these highly The oldest extant poems. developed productions and the rude doggerel of Saj‘ or Rajaz there lies an interval, the length of which it is impossible even to conjecture. The first poets are already consummate masters of the craft. "The number and complexity of the measures which they use, their established laws of quantity and rhyme, and the uniform manner in which they introduce the subject of their poems,[149] notwithstanding the distance which often separated one composer from another, all point to a long previous study and cultivation of the art of expression and the capacities of their language, a study of which no record now remains."[150]

It is not improbable that the dawn of the Golden Age of Arabian Poetry coincided with the first decade of the sixth Their date. century after Christ. About that time the War of Basús, the chronicle of which has preserved a considerable amount of contemporary verse, was in full blaze; and the first Arabian ode was composed, according to tradition, by Muhalhil b. Rabí‘a the Taghlibite on the death of his brother, the chieftain Kulayb, which caused war to break out between Bakr and Taghlib. At any rate, during the next hundred years in almost every part of the peninsula we meet with a brilliant succession of singers, all using the same poetical dialect and strictly adhering to the same rules of composition. The fashion which they set maintained itself virtually unaltered down to the end of the Umayyad period (750 a.d.), and though challenged by some daring spirits under the ‘Abbásid Caliphate, speedily reasserted its supremacy, which at the present day is almost as absolute as ever.

This fashion centres in the Qaṣída,[151] or Ode, the only form, or rather the only finished type of poetry that existed in what, for want of a better word, may be called the classical period of Arabic literature. The verses (abyát, singular bayt) of which it is built vary in number, but are seldom The Qaṣída. less than twenty-five or more than a hundred; and the arrangement of the rhymes is such that, while the two halves of the first verse rhyme together, the same rhyme is repeated once in the second, third, and every following verse to the end of the poem. Blank-verse is alien to the Arabs, who regard rhyme not as a pleasing ornament or a "troublesome bondage," but as a vital organ of poetry. The rhymes are usually feminine, e.g., sakhíná, tulíná, muhíná; mukhlidí, yadí, ‘uwwadí; rijámuhá, silámuhá, ḥarámuhá. To surmount the difficulties of the monorhyme demands great technical skill even in a language of which the peculiar formation renders the supply of rhymes extraordinarily abundant. The longest of the Mu‘allaqát, the so-called 'Long Poems,' is considerably shorter than Gray's Elegy. An Arabian Homer or Chaucer must have condescended to prose. With respect to metre the poet may choose any except Rajaz, which is deemed beneath the dignity of the Ode, but his liberty does not extend either to the choice of subjects or to the method of handling them: on the contrary, the course of his ideas is determined by rigid conventions which he durst not overstep.

"I have heard," says Ibn Qutayba, "from a man of learning that the composer of Odes began by mentioning the deserted dwelling-places and the relics and traces of habitation. Then Ibn Qutayba's account of the contents and divisions of the Ode. he wept and complained and addressed the desolate encampment, and begged his companion to make a halt, in order that he might have occasion to speak of those who had once lived there and afterwards departed; for the dwellers in tents were different from townsmen or villagers in respect of coming and going, because they moved from one water-spring to another, seeking pasture and searching out the places where rain had fallen. Then to this he linked the erotic prelude (nasíb), and bewailed the violence of his love and the anguish of separation from his mistress and the extremity of his passion and desire, so as to win the hearts of his hearers and divert their eyes towards him and invite their ears to listen to him, since the song of love touches men's souls and takes hold of their hearts, God having put it in the constitution of His creatures to love dalliance and the society of women, in such wise that we find very few but are attached thereto by some tie or have some share therein, whether lawful or unpermitted. Now, when the poet had assured himself of an attentive hearing, he followed up his advantage and set forth his claim: thus he went on to complain of fatigue and want of sleep and travelling by night and of the noonday heat, and how his camel had been reduced to leanness. And when, after representing all the discomfort and danger of his journey, he knew that he had fully justified his hope and expectation of receiving his due meed from the person to whom the poem was addressed, he entered upon the panegyric (madíḥ), and incited him to reward, and kindled his generosity by exalting him above his peers and pronouncing the greatest dignity, in comparison with his, to be little."[152]

Hundreds of Odes answer exactly to this description, which must not, however, be regarded as the invariable model. The erotic prelude is often omitted, especially in elegies; or if it does not lead directly to the main subject, it may be followed by a faithful and minute delineation of the poet's horse or camel which bears him through the wilderness with a speed like that of the antelope, the wild ass, or the ostrich: Bedouin poetry abounds in fine studies of animal life.[153] The choice of a motive is left open. Panegyric, no doubt, paid better than any other, and was therefore the favourite; but in Pre-islamic times the poet could generally please himself. The qaṣída is no organic whole: rather its unity resembles that of a series of pictures by the same hand or, to employ an Eastern trope, of pearls various in size and quality threaded on a necklace.

The ancient poetry may be defined as an illustrative criticism of Pre-islamic life and thought. Here the Arab has drawn himself at full length without embellishment or extenuation.

It is not mere chance that Abú Tammám's famous anthology is called the Ḥamása, i.e., 'Fortitude,' from the title of its first chapter, which occupies nearly a half of the book. 'Ḥamása' denotes the virtues most highly prized by the Arabs—bravery in battle, patience in misfortune, persistence in revenge, protection of the weak and defiance of the strong; the will, as Tennyson has said,

"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

As types of the ideal Arab hero we may take Shanfará of The Ideal Arab hero.Azd and his comrade in foray, Ta’abbaṭa Sharr^an. Both were brigands, outlaws, swift runners, and excellent poets. Of the former

"it is said that he was captured when a child from his tribe by the Banú Salámán, and brought up among them: he did not learn his origin until he had grown up, when he vowed vengeance against his captors, and returned to his own tribe. His oath was that he would slay a hundred men of Salámán; he slew ninety-eight, when an ambush of his enemies succeeded in taking him prisoner. In Shanfará. the struggle one of his hands was hewn off by a sword stroke, and, taking it in the other, he flung it in the face of a man of Salámán and killed him, thus making ninety-nine. Then he was overpowered and slain, with one still wanting to make up his number. As his skull lay bleaching on the ground, a man of his enemies passed by that way and kicked it with his foot; a splinter of bone entered his foot, the wound mortified, and he died, thus completing the hundred."[154]

The following passage is translated from Shanfará's splendid Ode named Lámiyyatu ’l-‘Arab (the poem rhymed in l of the Arabs), in which he describes his own heroic character and the hardships of a predatory life:—[155]

"And somewhere the noble find a refuge afar from scathe, The outlaw a lonely spot where no kin with hatred burn. Oh, never a prudent man, night-faring in hope or fear, Hard pressed on the face of earth, but still he hath room to turn.

To me now, in your default, are comrades a wolf untired, A sleek leopard, and a fell hyena with shaggy mane:[156] True comrades: they ne'er let out the secret in trust with them, Nor basely forsake their friend because that he brought them bane.

And each is a gallant heart and ready at honour's call, Yet I, when the foremost charge, am bravest of all the brave; But if they with hands outstretched are seizing the booty won, The slowest am I whenas most quick is the greedy knave.

By naught save my generous will I reach to the height of worth Above them, and sure the best is he with the will to give. Yea, well I am rid of those who pay not a kindness back, Of whom I have no delight though neighbours to me they live.

Enow are companions three at last: an intrepid soul, A glittering trenchant blade, a tough bow of ample size, Loud-twanging, the sides thereof smooth-polished, a handsome bow Hung down from the shoulder-belt by thongs in a comely wise, That groans, when the arrow slips away, like a woman crushed By losses, bereaved of all her children, who wails and cries."

On quitting his tribe, who cast him out when they were threatened on all sides by enemies seeking vengeance for the blood that he had spilt, Shanfará said:—

"Bury me not! Me you are forbidden to bury, But thou, O hyena, soon wilt feast and make merry, When foes bear away mine head, wherein is the best of me, And leave on the battle-field for thee all the rest of me. Here nevermore I hope to live glad—a stranger Accurst, whose wild deeds have brought his people in danger."[157]

Thábit b. Jábir b. Sufyán of Fahm is said to have got his nickname, Ta’abbaṭa Sharr^an, because one day his mother, who had seen him go forth from his tent with a sword Ta’abbaṭa Sharr^an. under his arm, on being asked, "Where is Thábit?" replied, "I know not: he put a mischief under his arm-pit (ta’abbaṭa sharr^an) and departed." According to another version of the story, the 'mischief' was a Ghoul whom he vanquished and slew and carried home in this manner. The following lines, which he addressed to his cousin, Shams b. Málik, may be applied with equal justice to the poet himself:—

"Little he complains of labour that befalls him; much he wills; Diverse ways attempting, mightily his purpose he fulfils. Through one desert in the sun's heat, through another in starlight, Lonely as the wild ass, rides he bare-backed Danger noon and night. He the foremost wind outpaceth, while in broken gusts it blows, Speeding onward, never slackening, never staying for repose. Prompt to dash upon the foeman, every minute watching well— Are his eyes in slumber lightly sealed, his heart stands sentinel. When the first advancing troopers rise to sight, he sets his hand From the scabbard forth to draw his sharp-edged, finely-mettled brand. When he shakes it in the breast-bone of a champion of the foe, How the grinning Fates in open glee their flashing side-teeth show! Solitude his chosen comrade, on he fares while overhead By the Mother of the mazy constellations he is led."[158]

These verses admirably describe the rudimentary Arabian virtues of courage, hardness, and strength. We must now take a wider survey of the moral ideas on which pagan society was built, and of which Pre-islamic poetry is at once the promulgation and the record. There was no written code, no The old Arabian points of honour. legal or religious sanction—nothing, in effect, save the binding force of traditional sentiment and opinion, i.e., Honour. What, then, are the salient points of honour in which Virtue (Muruwwa), as it was understood by the heathen Arabs, consists?

Courage has been already mentioned. Arab courage is like that of the ancient Greeks, "dependent upon excitement and vanishing quickly before depression and delay."[159] Courage. Hence the Arab hero is defiant and boastful, as he appears, e.g., in the Mu‘allaqa of ‘Amr b. Kulthúm. When there is little to lose by flight he will ride off unashamed; but he will fight to the death for his womenfolk, who in serious warfare often accompanied the tribe and were stationed behind the line of battle.[160]

"When I saw the hard earth hollowed By our women's flying footprints, And Lamís her face uncovered Like the full moon of the skies, Showing forth her hidden beauties— Then the matter was grim earnest: I engaged their chief in combat, Seeing help no other wise."[161]

The tribal constitution was a democracy guided by its chief men, who derived their authority from noble blood, noble character, wealth, wisdom, and experience. As a Bedouin poet has said in homely language—

"A folk that hath no chiefs must soon decay, And chiefs it hath not when the vulgar sway. Only with poles the tent is reared at last, And poles it hath not save the pegs hold fast But when the pegs and poles are once combined, Then stands accomplished that which was designed."[162]

The chiefs, however, durst not lay commands or penalties on their fellow-tribesmen. Every man ruled himself, and was free to rebuke presumption in others. "If you are our lord" (i.e., if you act discreetly as a sayyid should), "you will lord over us, but if you are a prey to pride, go and be proud!" (i.e., we will have nothing to do with you).[163] Loyalty in the mouth of a pagan Arab did not mean allegiance to his superiors, but faithful devotion to his equals; and it was closely Loyalty. connected with the idea of kinship. The family and the tribe, which included strangers living in the tribe under a covenant of protection—to defend these, individually and collectively, was a sacred duty. Honour required that a man should stand by his own people through thick and thin.

"I am of Ghaziyya: if she be in error, then I will err; And if Ghaziyya be guided right, I go right with her!"

sang Durayd b. Ṣimma, who had followed his kin, against his better judgment, in a foray which cost the life of his brother ‘Abdulláh.[164] If kinsmen seek help it should be given promptly, without respect to the merits of the case; if they do wrong it should be suffered as long as possible before resorting to violence.[165] The utilitarian view of friendship is often emphasised, as in these verses:—

Take for thy brother whom thou wilt in the days of peace, But know that when fighting comes thy kinsman alone is near. Thy true friend thy kinsman is, who answers thy call for aid With good will, when deeply drenched in bloodshed are sword and spear. Oh, never forsake thy kinsman e'en tho' he do thee wrong, For what he hath marred he mends thereafter and makes sincere."[166]

At the same time, notwithstanding their shrewd common sense, nothing is more characteristic of the Arabs—heathen and Muḥammadan alike—than the chivalrous devotion and disinterested self-sacrifice of which they are capable on behalf of their friends. In particular, the ancient poetry affords proof that they regarded with horror any breach of the solemn covenant plighted between patron and client or host and guest. This topic might be illustrated by many striking examples, but one will suffice:—

The Arabs say: "Awfá mina ’l-Samaw’ali"—"More loyal than al-Samaw’al"; or Wafá^un ka-wafá’i ’l-Samaw’ali"—" A loyalty like that of al-Samaw’al." These proverbs refer to The story of Samaw’al b. ‘Adiyá. Samaw’al b. ‘Adiyá, an Arab of Jewish descent and Jew by religion, who lived in his castle, called al-Ablaq (The Piebald), at Taymá, some distance north of Medína. There he dug a well of sweet water, and would entertain the Arabs who used to alight beside it; and they supplied themselves with provisions from his castle and set up a market. It is related that the poet Imru’u ’l-Qays, while fleeing, hotly pursued by his enemies, towards Syria, took refuge with Samaw’al, and before proceeding on his way left in charge of his host five coats of mail which had been handed down as heirlooms by the princes of his family. Then he departed, and in due course arrived at Constantinople, where he besought the Byzantine emperor to help him to recover his lost kingdom. His appeal was not unsuccessful, but he died on the way home. Meanwhile his old enemy, the King of Ḥíra, sent an army under Ḥárith b. Ẓálim against Samaw’al, demanding that he should surrender the coats of mail. Samaw’al refused to betray the trust committed to him, and defended himself in his castle. The besiegers, however, captured his son, who had gone out to hunt. Ḥárith asked Samaw’al: "Dost thou know this lad?" "Yes, he is my son." "Then wilt thou deliver what is in thy possession, or shall I slay him?" Samaw’al answered: "Do with him as thou wilt. I will never break my pledge nor give up the property of my guest-friend." So Ḥárith smote the lad with his sword and clove him through the middle. Then he raised the siege. And Samaw’al said thereupon:—

"I was true with the mail-coats of the Kindite,[167] I am true though many a one is blamed for treason. Once did ‘Ádiyá, my father, exhort me: 'O Samaw’al, ne'er destroy what I have builded.' For me built ‘Ádiyá a strong-walled castle With a well where I draw water at pleasure; So high, the eagle slipping back is baffled. When wrong befalls me I endure not tamely."[168]

The Bedouin ideal of generosity and hospitality is personified in Ḥátim of Ṭayyi’, of whom many anecdotes are told. We may learn from the following one how extravagant are an Arab's notions on this subject:—

When Ḥátim's mother was pregnant she dreamed that she was asked, "Which dost thou prefer?—a generous son called Ḥátim, or ten like those of other folk, lions in the hour of battle, Ḥátim of Ṭayyi’. brave lads and strong of limb?" and that she answered, "Ḥátim." Now, when Ḥátim grew up he was wont to take out his food, and if he found any one to share it he would eat, otherwise he threw it away. His father, seeing that he wasted his food, gave him a slave-girl and a mare with her foal and sent him to herd the camels. On reaching the pasture, Ḥátim began to search for his fellows, but none was in sight; then he came to the road, but found no one there. While he was thus engaged he descried a party of riders on the road and went to meet them. "O youth," said they, "hast thou aught to entertain us withal?" He answered: "Do ye ask me of entertainment when ye see the camels?" Now, these riders were ‘Abíd b. al-Abras and Bishr b. Abí Kházim and Nábigha al-Dhubyání, and they were on their way to King Nu‘mán.[169] Ḥátim slaughtered three camels for them, whereupon ‘Abíd said: "We desired no entertainment save milk, but if thou must needs charge thyself with something more, a single young she-camel would have sufficed us." Ḥátim replied: "That I know, but seeing different faces and diverse fashions I thought ye were not of the same country, and I wished that each of you should mention what ye saw, on returning home." So they spoke verses in praise of him and celebrated his generosity, and Ḥátim said: "I wished to bestow a kindness upon you, but your bounty is greater than mine. I swear to God that I will hamstring every camel in the herd unless ye come forward and divide them among yourselves." The poets did as he desired, and each man received ninety-nine camels; then they proceeded on their journey to Nu‘mán. When Ḥátim's father heard of this he came to him and asked, "Where are the camels?" "O my father," replied Ḥátim, "by means of them I have conferred on thee everlasting fame and honour that will cleave to thee like the ring of the ringdove, and men will always bear in mind some verse of poetry in which we are praised. This is thy recompense for the camels." On hearing these words his father said, "Didst thou with my camels thus?" "Yes." "By God, I will never dwell with thee again." So he went forth with his family, and Ḥátim was left alone with his slave-girl and his mare and the mare's foal.[170]

We are told that Ḥátim's daughter was led as a captive before the Prophet and thus addressed him: "'O Muḥammad, my sire is dead, and he who would have come to plead for me is gone. Release me, if it seem good to thee, and do not let the Arabs rejoice at my misfortune; for I am the daughter of the chieftain of my people. My father was wont to free the captive, and protect those near and dear to him, and entertain the guest, and satisfy the hungry, and console the afflicted, and give food and greeting to all; and never did he turn away any who sought a boon. I am Ḥátim's daughter.' Ḥátim's daughter before the Prophet. The Prophet (on whom be the blessing and peace of God) answered her: 'O maiden, the true believer is such as thou hast described. Had thy father been an Islamite, verily we should have said, "God have mercy upon him!" Let her go,' he continued, 'for her sire loved noble manners, and God loves them likewise.'"[171]

Ḥátim was a poet of some repute.[172] The following lines are addressed to his wife, Máwiyya:—

"O daughter of ‘Abdulláh and Málik and him who wore The two robes of Yemen stuff—the hero that rode the roan, When thou hast prepared the meal, entreat to partake thereof A guest—I am not the man to eat, like a churl, alone—: Some traveller thro' the night, or house-neighbour; for in sooth I fear the reproachful talk of men after I am gone. The guest's slave am I, 'tis true, as long as he bides with me, Although in my nature else no trait of the slave is shown."[173]

Here it will be convenient to make a short digression in order that the reader may obtain, if not a complete view, at least some glimpses of the position and influence Position of women. of women in Pre-islamic society. On the whole, their position was high and their influence great. They were free to choose their husbands, and could return, if ill-treated or displeased, to their own people; in some cases they even offered themselves in marriage and had the right of divorce. They were regarded not as slaves and chattels, but as equals and companions. They inspired the poet to sing and the warrior to fight. The chivalry of the Middle Ages is, perhaps, ultimately traceable to heathen Arabia. "Knight-errantry, the riding forth on horseback in search of adventures, the rescue of captive maidens, the succour rendered everywhere to women in adversity—all these were essentially Arabian ideas, as was the very name of chivalry, the connection of honourable conduct with the horse-rider, the man of noble blood, the cavalier."[174] But the nobility of the women is not only reflected in the heroism and devotion of the men; it stands recorded in song, in legend, and in history. Fáṭima, the daughter of Khurshub, was one of three noble matrons who bore the title al-Munjibát, 'the Mothers Arabian heroines. of Heroes.' She had seven sons, three of whom, viz., Rabí‘ and ‘Umára and Anas, were called 'the Perfect' (al-Kamala). One day Ḥamal b. Badr the Fazárite raided the Banú ‘Abs, the tribe to which Fáṭima belonged, and made her his prisoner. As he led away the camel on which she was mounted at the time, she cried: "Man, thy wits are wandering. By God, if thou take me captive, and if we leave behind us this hill which is now in front of us, surely there will never be peace Fáṭima daughter of Khurshub. between thee and the sons of Ziyád" (Ziyád was the name of her husband), "because people will say what they please, and the mere suspicion of evil is enough." "I will carry thee off," said he, "that thou mayest herd my camels." When Fáṭima knew that she was certainly his prisoner she threw herself headlong from her camel and died; so did she fear to bring dishonour on her sons.[175] Among the names which have become proverbial for loyalty we find those of two women, Fukayha and Umm Jamíl. As to Fukayha, it is related that her clansmen, having been raided by the brigand Sulayk b. Sulaka, resolved to attack Fukayha. him; but since he was a famous runner, on the advice of one of their shaykhs they waited until he had gone down to the water and quenched his thirst, for they knew that he would then be unable to run. Sulayk, however, seeing himself caught, made for the nearest tents and sought refuge with Fukayha. She threw her smock over him, and stood with drawn sword between him and his pursuers; and as they still pressed on, she tore the veil from her hair and shouted for help. Then her brothers came and defended Sulayk, so that his life was saved.[176] Had space allowed, it would have been a pleasant task to make some further extracts from the long Legend of Noble Women. I have illustrated their keen sense of honour and loyalty, but I might equally well have chosen examples of gracious dignity and quick intelligence and passionate affection. Many among them had the gift of poetry, which they bestowed especially on the dead; it is a final proof of the high character and position of women in Pre-islamic Arabia that the hero's mother and sisters were deemed most worthy to mourn and praise him. The praise of living women by their lovers necessarily takes a different tone; the physical charms of the heroine are fully described, but we seldom find any appreciation of moral beauty. One notable exception to this rule occurs at the beginning of an ode by Shanfará. The passage defies translation. It is, to quote Sir Charles Lyall, with whose faithful and sympathetic rendering of the ancient poetry every student of Arabic literature should be acquainted, "the most lovely picture of womanhood which heathen Arabia has left us, drawn by the same hand that has given us, in the unrivalled Lâmîyah, its highest ideal of heroic hardness and virile strength."[177]

UMAYMA.

"She charmed me, veiling bashfully her face, Keeping with quiet looks an even pace; Some lost thing seem to seek her downcast eyes: Aside she bends not—softly she replies. Ere dawn she carries forth her meal—a gift To hungry wives in days of dearth and thrift. No breath of blame up to her tent is borne, While many a neighbour's is the house of scorn. Her husband fears no gossip fraught with shame, For pure and holy is Umayma's name. Joy of his heart, to her he need not say When evening brings him home—'Where passed the day?' Slender and full in turn, of perfect height, A very fay were she, if beauty might Transform a child of earth into a fairy sprite!"[178]

Only in the freedom of the desert could the character thus exquisitely delineated bloom and ripen. These verses, taken by themselves, are a sufficient answer to any one who would maintain that Islam has increased the social influence of Arabian women, although in some respects it may have raised them to a higher level of civilisation.[179]

There is, of course, another side to all this. In a land where might was generally right, and where

"the simple plan That he should take who has the power And he should keep who can,"

was all but universally adopted, it would have been strange if the weaker sex had not often gone to the wall. The custom which prevailed in the Jáhiliyya of burying female infants alive, revolting as it appears to us, was due partly to the frequent famines with which Arabia is afflicted through lack of rain, and partly to a perverted sense of honour. Fathers feared lest they should have useless mouths to feed, or lest they should incur disgrace in consequence of their daughters being made prisoners of war. Hence the birth of Infanticide. a daughter was reckoned calamitous, as we read in the Koran: "They attribute daughters unto God—far be it from Him!—and for themselves they desire them not. When a female child is announced to one of them, his face darkens wrathfully: he hides himself from his people because of the bad news, thinking—'Shall I keep the child to my disgrace or cover it away in the dust?'"[180] It was said proverbially, "The despatch of daughters is a kindness" and "The burial of daughters is a noble deed."[181] Islam put an end to this barbarity, which is expressly forbidden by the Koran: "Kill not your children in fear of impoverishment: we will provide for them and for you: verily their killing was a great sin."[182] Perhaps the most touching lines in Arabian poetry are those in which a father struggling with poverty wishes that his daughter may die before him and thus be saved from the hard mercies of her relatives:—

THE POOR MAN'S DAUGHTER

"But for Umayma's sake I ne'er had grieved to want nor braved Night's blackest horror to bring home the morsel that she craved. Now my desire is length of days because I know too well The orphan girl's hard lot, with kin unkind enforced to dwell. I dread that some day poverty will overtake my child, And shame befall her when exposed to every passion wild.[183] She wishes me to live, but I must wish her dead, woe's me: Death is the noblest wooer a helpless maid can see. I fear an uncle may be harsh, a brother be unkind, When I would never speak a word that rankled in her mind."[184]

And another says:—

"Were not my little daughters Like soft chicks huddling by me, Through earth and all its waters To win bread would I roam free.

Our children among us going, Our very hearts they be; The wind upon them blowing Would banish sleep from me."[185]

"Odi et amo": these words of the poet might serve as an epitome of Bedouin ethics. For, if the heathen Arab was, as we have seen, a good friend to his friends, he had in the same degree an intense and deadly feeling Treatment of enemies. of hatred towards his enemies. He who did not strike back when struck was regarded as a coward. No honourable man could forgive an injury or fail to avenge it. An Arab, smarting under the loss of some camels driven off by raiders, said of his kin who refused to help him:—

"For all their numbers, they are good for naught, My people, against harm however light: They pardon wrong by evildoers wrought, Malice with lovingkindness they requite."[186]

The last verse, which would have been high praise in the mouth of a Christian or Muḥammadan moralist, conveyed to those who heard it a shameful reproach. The approved method of dealing with an enemy is set forth plainly enough in the following lines:—

"Humble him who humbles thee, close tho' be your kindredship: If thou canst not humble him, wait till he is in thy grip. Friend him while thou must; strike hard when thou hast him on the hip."[187]

Above all, blood called for blood. This obligation lay heavy on the conscience of the pagan Arabs. Vengeance, with them, was "almost a physical necessity, Blood-revenge. which if it be not obeyed will deprive its subject of sleep, of appetite, of health." It was a tormenting thirst which nothing would quench except blood, a disease of honour which might be described as madness, although it rarely prevented the sufferer from going to work with coolness and circumspection. Vengeance was taken upon the murderer, if possible, or else upon one of his fellow-tribesmen. Usually this ended the matter, but in some cases it was the beginning of a regular blood-feud in which the entire kin of both parties were involved; as, e.g., the murder of Kulayb led to the Forty Years' War between Bakr and Taghlib.[188] The slain man's next of kin might accept a blood-wit (diya), commonly paid in camels—the coin of the country—as atonement for him. If they did so, however, it was apt to be cast in their teeth that they preferred milk (i.e., she-camels) to blood.[189] The true Arab feeling is expressed in verses like these:—

"With the sword will I wash my shame away, Let God's doom bring on me what it may!"[190]

It was believed that until vengeance had been taken for the dead man, his spirit appeared above his tomb in the shape of an owl (háma or ṣadá), crying "Isqúní" ("Give me to drink"). But pagan ideas of vengeance were bound up with the Past far more than with the Future. The shadowy after-life counted for little or nothing beside the deeply-rooted memories of fatherly affection, filial piety, and brotherhood in arms.

Though liable to abuse, the rough-and-ready justice of the vendetta had a salutary effect in restraining those who would otherwise have indulged their lawless instincts without fear of punishment. From our point of view, however, its interest is not so much that of a primitive institution as of a pervading element in old Arabian life and literature. Full, or even adequate, illustration of this topic would carry me far beyond the limits of my plan. I have therefore selected from the copious material preserved in the Book of Songs a characteristic story which tells how Qays b. al-Khaṭím took vengeance on the murderers of his father and his grandfather.[191]

It is related on the authority of Abú ‘Ubayda that ‘Adí b. ‘Amr, the grandfather of Qays, was slain by a man named Málik belonging to the Banú ‘Amr b. ‘Ámir b. Rabí‘a b. ‘Ámir b. The story of the vengeance of Qays b. al-Khaṭím. Ṣa‘ṣa‘a; and his father, Khaṭím b. ‘Adí, by one of the Banú ‘Abd al-Qays who were settled in Hajar. Khaṭím died before avenging his father, ‘Adí, when Qays was but a young lad. The mother of Qays, fearing that he would sally forth to seek vengeance for the blood of his father and his grandfather and perish, went to a mound of dust beside the door of their dwelling and laid stones on it, and began to say to Qays, "This is the grave of thy father and thy grandfather;" and Qays never doubted but that it was so. He grew up strong in the arms, and one day he had a tussle with a youth of the Banú Ẓafar, who said to him: "By God, thou would'st do better to turn the strength of thine arms against the slayers of thy father and grandfather instead of putting it forth upon me." "And who are their slayers?" "Ask thy mother, she will tell thee." So Qays took his sword and set its hilt on the ground and its edge between his two breasts, and said to his mother: "Who killed my father and my grandfather?" "They died as people die, and these are their graves in the camping-ground." "By God, verily thou wilt tell me who slew them or I will bear with my whole weight upon this sword until it cleaves through my back." Then she told him, and Qays swore that he would never rest until he had slain their slayers. "O my son," said she, "Málik, who killed thy grandfather, is of the same folk as Khidásh b. Zuhayr, and thy father once bestowed a kindness on Khidásh, for which he is grateful. Go, then, to him and take counsel with him touching thine affair and ask him to help thee." So Qays set out immediately, and when he came to the garden where his water-camel was watering his date-palms, he smote the cord (of the bucket) with his sword and cut it, so that the bucket dropped into the well. Then he took hold of the camel's head, and loaded the beast with two sacks of dates, and said: "Who will care for this old woman" (meaning his mother) "in my absence? If I die, let him pay her expenses out of this garden, and on her death it shall be his own; but if I live, my property will return to me, and he shall have as many of its dates as he wishes to eat." One of his folk cried, "I am for it," so Qays gave him the garden and set forth to inquire concerning Khidásh. He was told to look for him at Marr al-Ẓahrán, but not finding him in his tent, he alighted beneath a tree, in the shade of which the guests of Khidásh used to shelter, and called to the wife of Khidásh, "Is there any food?" Now, when she came up to him, she admired his comeliness—for he was exceeding fair of countenance—and said: "By God, we have no fit entertainment for thee, but only dates." He replied, "I care not, bring out what thou hast." So she sent to him dates in a large measure (qubá‘), and Qays took a single date and ate half of it and put back the other half in the qubá‘, and gave orders that the qubá‘ should be brought in to the wife of Khidásh; then he departed on some business. When Khidásh returned and his wife told him the news of Qays, he said, "This is a man who would render his person sacred."[192] While he sat there with his wife eating fresh ripe dates, Qays returned on camel-back; and Khidásh, when he saw the foot of the approaching rider, said to his wife, "Is this thy guest?" "Yes." "'Tis as though his foot were the foot of my good friend, Khaṭím the Yathribite." Qays drew nigh, and struck the tent-rope with the point of his spear, and begged leave to come in. Having obtained permission, he entered to Khidásh and told his lineage and informed him of what had passed, and asked him to help and advise him in his affair. Khidásh bade him welcome, and recalled the kindness which he had of his father, and said, "As to this affair, truly I have been expecting it of thee for some time. The slayer of thy grandfather is a cousin of mine, and I will aid thee against him. When we are assembled in our meeting-place, I will sit beside him and talk with him, and when I strike his thigh, do thou spring on him and slay him." Qays himself relates: "Accompanied by Khidásh, I approached him until I stood over his head when Khidásh sat with him, and as soon as he struck the man's thigh I smote his head with a sword named Dhu ’l-Khurṣayn" (the Two-ringed). "His folk rushed on me to slay me, but Khidásh came between us, crying, 'Let him alone, for, by God, he has slain none but the slayer of his grandfather.'" Then Khidásh called for one of his camels and mounted it, and started with Qays to find the ‘Abdite who killed his father. And when they were near Hajar Khidásh advised him to go and inquire after this man, and to say to him when he discovered him: "I encountered a brigand of thy people who robbed me of some articles, and on asking who was the chieftain of his people I was directed to thee. Go with me, then, that thou mayest take from him my property. If," Khidásh continued, "he follow thee unattended, thou wilt gain thy desire of him; but should he bid the others go with thee, laugh, and if he ask why thou laughest, say, 'With us, the noble does not as thou dost, but when he is called to a brigand of his people, he goes forth alone with his whip, not with his sword; and the brigand when he sees him gives him everything that he took, in awe of him.' If he shall dismiss his friends, thy course is clear; but if he shall refuse to go without them, bring him to me nevertheless, for I hope that thou wilt slay both him and them." So Khidásh stationed himself under the shade of a tree, while Qays went to the ‘Abdite and addressed him as Khidásh had prompted; and the man's sense of honour was touched to the quick, so that he sent away his friends and went with Qays. And when Qays came back to Khidásh, the latter said to him, "Choose, O Qays! Shall I help thee or shall I take thy place?" Qays answered, "I desire neither of these alternatives, but if he slay me, let him not slay thee!" Then he rushed upon him and wounded him in the flank and drove his lance through the other side, and he fell dead on the spot. When Qays had finished with him, Khidásh said, "If we flee just now, his folk will pursue us; but let us go somewhere not far off, for they will never think that thou hast slain him and stayed in the neighbourhood. No; they will miss him and follow his track, and when they find him slain they will start to pursue us in every direction, and will only return when they have lost hope." So those two entered some hollows of the sand, and after staying there several days (for it happened exactly as Khidásh had foretold), they came forth when the pursuit was over, and did not exchange a word until they reached the abode of Khidásh. There Qays parted from him and returned to his own people.

The poems relating to blood-revenge show all that is best and much that is less admirable in the heathen Arab—on the one hand, his courage and resolution, his contempt of death and fear of dishonour, his single-minded devotion to the dead as to the living, his deep regard and tender affection for the men of his own flesh and blood; on the other hand, his implacable temper, his perfidious cruelty and reckless ferocity in hunting down the slayers, and his savage, well-nigh inhuman exultation over the slain. The famous Song or Ballad of Vengeance that I shall now attempt to render in English verse is usually attributed to Ta’abbaṭa Sharr^an,[193] although some pronounce Song of Vengeance by Ta’abbaṭa Sharran. it to be a forgery by Khalaf al-Aḥmar, the reputed author of Shanfará's masterpiece, and beyond doubt a marvellously skilful imitator of the ancient bards. Be that as it may, the ballad is utterly pagan in tone and feeling. Its extraordinary merit was detected by Goethe, who, after reading it in a Latin translation, published a German rendering, with some fine criticism of the poetry, in his West-oestlicher Divan.[194] I have endeavoured to suggest as far as possible the metre and rhythm of the original, since to these, in my opinion, its peculiar effect is largely due. The metre is that known as the 'Tall' (Madíd), viz.:—

Thus the first verse runs in Arabic:—

Inna bi’l-shi‘ | bi ’lladhi |‘inda Sal‘ⁱⁿ la-qatíl^an | damuhú | má yuṭallu.