In addition to depicting the lifestyle and full range of daily habits and usages of the urbanized Arabs and Arabized Muslims in the flourishing cities of the empire, khabar prose narratives also recorded the changing language of the Abbasids,29 for while they remained capable of the greatest sublimity and eloquence, they were also able to accommodate the tones and echoes of the marketplace, of the language of rowdy ruffians and uncouth plebeians. Philologists interested in historical linguistics can benefit greatly from the scrutiny of these prose narrations. Indeed, in the Abbasid period, when the greatest mixture of races and languages took place, it was, as mentioned above, mainly in the prose narratives, not in poetry, that linguistic change was best effected.
Thus the khabar enjoyed a splendid freedom from the formal constraints of rhetorical language that poetry could not enjoy. However, Arabic prose later experienced great restraint with the resurgence of an intricate rhetorical style decked with internal rhyme and ornate figures of speech. This can be seen in the restrictive form of the maqamat and in the eloquent and complex Epistle of Forgiveness, by the major poet al-Maʿarri (363/973– 449/1057), and numerous later prose writers of the Mamluk and Ottoman ages, but while this trend pursued its own course a wealth of historical, scientific, social, linguistic, and literary knowledge continued to be gained from the numerous compendiums of akhbar on general or specialized topics. Only recently have scholars, Arab and Arabists, started to more fully appreciate the value of the khabar genre and study its techniques and characteristics.
Many compendiums and smaller books were written using the form. Al-Asmaʿi’s anecdotes, which included original tales (nawadir) and amusing stories (mulah), appeared in later compendiums of akhbar. Their writers lived in the very heart of the bustling Abbasid era, when urban cultural phenomena had been firmly set and Arabian city life had acquired its particular rhythms and conventions, informed by an amalgam of cultures, concepts, and behavior patterns not completely harmonious with the old, pre-Abbasid patterns. Remarkable among them was al-Jahiz (159 / 775– 254 / 868), a much earlier writer and anthologist. Although he was also greatly interested in language and style, al-Jahiz was also deeply concerned with lived life, human nature and the nature of all beings. Some of the most famous compendiums on general and specialized subjects were authored by him, recording numerous anecdotes and interesting tales. Of special note is his book The Misers (al-Bukhalaʾ), from which a number of anecdotes are presented in this anthology. His work in this and in other books reflects not only his humor and dexterity in the use of irony but also his genuine interest in common people, even in the most lowly, as part of his interest in human behavior itself. The book reflects the firm establishment of an urban culture in the Abbasid cities and the rise of both a middle class conscious of money matters and self-interested preservation of wealth and a lower class trying to survive in an environment marked by materialistic acquisition. Many colorful episodes30 are recorded in The Misers depicting marginal social characters: naive people, lighthearted tricksters, beggars, and thieves.31 The humor reflects the great change that had happened to the Arab author since his Bedouin days, when he was bound to a more serious approach. The desert had produced little humor, but city life was showing its impact on this aspect of the range of human responses, usually linked to urban cultures.32 This formed a basis for the later appearance of the maqamat. Indeed, the work of al-Jahiz was a great cultural achievement that appeared a century and a half before the end of the first millennium.
The khabar genre is abundantly represented in the renowned Book of Songs (Kitab al-aghani), of Abu ʾl-Faraj al-Asbahani (284 / 897–355 / 966),33 and in many other famous dictionaries and compendiums. But it is in the narratives of Abu ʿAli ʾl-Tanukhi (327–384 / 938–994) where the khabar achieves great effect: in his various compendia the khabar, often a short, dramatic story, not only entertains the reader but also exhibits great knowledge and breadth of vision. Among al-Tanukhi’s several works, Reprieve After Hardship (Al-faraj baʿda ʾl-shidda) revolves around episodes from the lives of real people, often including advice and examples from religious texts, but it is generally devoid of humor. It reveals the intimate secrets of political life, the tyranny of rulers, and the terror they instilled in the hearts of people from all walks of life. His most remarkable work is the entertaining and enlightening eight-volume book Nishwar al-muhadara wa akhbar al-mudhakara (Snippets of Conversation and Memorable Tales, or, according to D. S. Margoliouth, Table Talk of a Mesopotamian Judge), devoted to general social and cultural themes. His third work, Al-mustajad min fiʿlat al-ajwad (The Admirable Deeds of Munificent Men), focuses on another specialized theme. It is interesting to see how, in the first two volumes, he uses words from the contemporary colloquial, evoking a feeling of familiarity and immediacy in the stories, while in the third book, on the subject of generosity and hospitality, a revered Arabic ideal inherited from pre-Islamic times, he reverts to a higher language. Another important characteristic of these writings is the interest shown in the common man, an interest, as mentioned, common in the Arabic writings of the time. The individual is also often depicted as an autonomous person with his own feelings, whims, tastes, and choices, a situation dramatically reversed when the author depicts the studied and self-conscious reactions of caliphs and men of power.
As a form, the khabar has its limitations, a major one of which is its narrow scope for diversity of technique. Arab writers, however, discovered several other means of diversifying their fictional techniques, and some were strikingly original.
The Visit to the Afterworld: Hell and Heaven
The story of Israʾ (night journey) and Miʿraj (ascension) depicts the Prophet’s ascension to Heaven at night, starting at the Holy Mosque (al-Kaʿba), in Mecca, arriving at the mosque of al-Aqsa, in Jerusalem, and back to Mecca the same night. The Miʿraj is the tale of the Prophet’s ascent to Heaven and appearance before God with the archangel Gabriel as guide. His ascent allowed him to witness the tortures of Hell and the luminous beauty of Paradise. The Israʾ and Miʿraj journeys represent the pinnacle of Islamic tales of marvel and were immediately popular, a sign of people’s great infatuation with miracles and marvels, and became widespread also outside the Islamic world, pointing to the fascination of people with miracles and the supernatural. The Miʿraj story, which has many versions, features fascinating descriptions of Paradise and Hell, as in the following excerpt in ʿAbd al-Wahid Luʾluʾa’s words:
In several versions of the Muslim narrative, the Prophet saw hell from his position in the third heaven. It had several floors where the sinners were cast according to the seriousness of their sin… hell is deep down under Jerusalem, the centre of the earth… [It] had the shape of an overturned cone, a series of concentric circular strata, descending from top to bottom. [It also] has seven gates. The heavens are seven, indicating the special significance of the number seven in Islamic culture… The Muslim paradise has four rivers… The journey seeks the Divine Throne, where the light is dazzling. The ascension begins in Jerusalem.34
Luʾluʾa continues:
The equally ethereal beauty of the Muslim paradise, especially in this emphasis on light and sound in both works: light always dazzling, and sound is either that of nature, trees, birds, or sound of tasbih, chanting, glorifying the Lord… “God is the Light of heavens and earth” is the leitmotif of the Muslim chants, based on the descriptions in the Holy Quran. Lights are full of color… angels, as well, appear in fantastic colors.35
The ascension to Heaven was later adapted by the famous poet Abu ʾl-ʿAlaʾ al-Maʿarri in his Risalat al-Ghufran (Epistle of Forgiveness) and by the Andalusian poet Ibn Shuhayd (383 / 992–426 / 1035) in his Al-Tawabiʿ wa ʾl-Zawabiʿ (Treatise of Familiar Spirits and Demons). It was also translated into such languages as Castilian, French, and Latin. Its possible influence on Dante’s Divina Commedia has been suggested by many observers. ʿAbd al-Wahid Luʾluʾa has written at length on the many similarities in the Arabic and Dante’s versions so as to l
eave little doubt as to the possibility of Dante’s borrowing from this Islamic legend.
Fables
Several types of sophisticated fictional genres had been produced in Arabic by the beginning of the Abbasid age. One of the earliest such works was Kalila and Dimna, a collection of fables translated by Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ (102 / 720–139 / 756) from the Persian translation of an Indian collection. An Arabized Persian and a new convert to Islam, Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ used his lucid, succinct style and command of language to produce an immortal text that has enjoyed a considerable amount of critical study and translations, one that has not lost its charm in modern times. Fables have been attractive to writers in many cultures, often employed to express human observations on life and morals. Kalila and Dimna is based on the answers allegedly given to Dabshalim, a king of India, by his vizier, a Brahman philosopher called Bidpai, in the form of fables in which animals act and speak and furnish subtle allusions to human life and experience. The intention is to illuminate, in each episode, one or more of life’s aspects or furnish solutions to problems that people encounter or give a lesson as to the correct behavior. This is done by comparing a human situation or action to an incident that has happened to one or more animals, or reiterating an idea said by another, or expressing an emotional state experienced by a third, but which are all, in fact, representative of human experience and immediately accessible to the reader as such. Although the intention of fables is didactic, they are usually enjoyable and often charming. To provide profound wisdom from the mouth of animals is, in fact, to make it more easily savored, animals being always capable of arousing more sympathy in people and less antagonism. In a turbulent and dangerous age like that in which Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ lived and in which he prematurely and brutally died at the hands of the Abbasid state, the resort to this kind of obliqueness was a clever way of camouflaging criticism of the state of things. All through the book, King Dabshalim suggests a topic to Bidpai or presents an issue, and Bidpai answers by saying something like, “When the lion saw the bones in his den…” before continuing with the fable.
Whether these fables were translated by Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ in their entirety or partly so and partly written by him, as some scholars claim,36 they were eminently successful. Desert Arabs had lived with animals at close range, and animals had a vital role in their lives. In pre-Islamic literature, animals are described in minute detail, those that are hunted and those that hunt and those that are a source of food or a means of travel, on which survival in the desert depended. The allusions and symbolization contained in the work of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ were commensurate with the artistic treatment animals received from major Arab poets. The Bedouin poet’s description of them had arrived at archetypal and symbolic dimensions in the hands of Labid, in pre-Islamic times, and especially Dhu ʾl-Rummah (77 / 696– 117 / 735), in the Umayyad period, who took a most sophisticated approach.
The Arabic fables of Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ were followed by other attempts in much the same fashion later in the Abbasid period. We find them in the Arabian Nights, often relayed in a convoluted fashion. Ferial Ghazoul has written a detailed account of the use of fables in that work. She has also written of their adoption by the group of philosophers known as Ikhwan al-Safa, whose treatment of fables reflects the continuation and elevation of this genre in classical Arabic. In the Arabian Nights fables reveal behavior patterns in people and offer advice against human weakness. Their incorporation by the Brethren of Purity in their works represents a serious consideration, where philosophy is served by the symbolization and metaphorical power of fables. Defining their intention, Ikhwan al-Safa said: “We made [our intention] evident in the mouths of animals so that it comes out more effectively and clearer in address, more attractive as stories, more delicious to the ears, and furnishes greater benefit, prompting the reader to think deeply.”37 Excerpts of these are represented in this anthology.
As Ghazoul explains, however, the brethren had another purpose, a scientific one. They tried to show that, according to their theory of the origin of species, life-forms were not created all at once but, according to God’s wisdom, were created in stages, first the plants, then the animals, then man.38
The Assemblies
A striking change in technique, variety, language, and style took place in creative prose after the Umayyad period, one that far outstripped what happened in its contemporaneous poetry. Perhaps the greatest change poetry experienced was its slow alienation from the pre-Islamic conventions, particularly regarding the pre-Islamic description of animals and the deserted campsites.39 Although other elements of the poem were certainly undergoing change during the Abbasid period, the changes in creative prose were more sudden and radical. The new genres introduced into prose and the changes of language and style point to the wide range open to prose as compared to the strict conventions of poetry and the dictates of its history.
The open inventiveness of prose literature produced, in the fourth / tenth century, the totally urban assemblies, or maqamat. These constitute the third genre of narrative literature purely Arabic in origin. The assemblies were mainly picaresque tales offering a comic representation of experience, often depicting the life of wandering rogues and frequently revolving around the personality of a trickster. However, under their comic surface, they contained incisive social criticism.
The father of the art of the maqamat was Badiʿ al-Zaman al-Hamadhani, who took the humor and irony found in such earlier writers as al-Jahiz, particularly in The Misers, to a new literary form and thus produced a completely novel fictive genre.
Also of note about them is that they, like a number of other tales in the Abbasid period, depicted the life and manners also of the lower classes, arriving at the delineation of the antihero so many centuries before this kind of protagonist had become central to fiction in Europe. Of course, al-Jahiz, that great genius of the second to third century A.H. (eighth to ninth century C.E.), had already given the type his creative attention. The early entry of this type of protagonist—ruffians, thieves, tricksters, outcasts, vagrants, naive dupes, party crashers, nouveaux riches—into Arabic fiction can only denote a fast-growing urbanism and a sophistication that broke the bonds of the conventionally exclusive concern with those of the upper ranks, relegating those of lower status to little or no narrative importance.
Al-Hamadhani was a writer with a particular originality, one who invented a new fictive form and brought it to great success. His achievement was not only improvising an unprecedented organizational scheme but also devising purely fictional content built around imaginary protagonists. The khabar, as we have seen, had pretensions to veracity and concerned real or possibly real protagonists and was thus shy of being pure fiction. However, by his double contribution, al-Hamadhani was able to offer a new and interesting addition to the limited forms of fiction in the literary world anywhere, providing a framework and substance to the great cultural, social, and literary changes that had taken place in various aspects of medieval Arab life.
Writers before him had long been experimenting with the ironic mode, al-Jahiz constituting a brilliant early example. Al-Hamadhani, however, brought the ironic mode in the art of fiction to its fullness, a marked signal of an irreversibly changed sensibility reflecting a striking contrast to poetry’s lingering idealizations and elevated forms of address almost throughout the Abbasid ages. The diverse personalities populating the maqamat, taken from the social milieu of Abbasid society, were, with rare exceptions,40 invisible to the eloquent poet, haughtily overlooked by him, comfortably neglected. In mode and intention, the introduction of the maqamat was a triumphant departure from the obsessive concentration on social grandeur and the pomp of status; it forged an almost perfect split between formal poetry and prose fiction in the fourth century A.H.
In the fifty-one maqamat remaining to posterity (the author claimed he had written four hundred), al-Hamadhani manifests farsightedness, linguistic dexterity, great descriptive capacity, and an ability to write skillfully on many t
opics. In style and language, al-Hamadhani’s maqamat are eloquent, marked by high rhetoric (in contrast to their humble subject matter) and rhymed prose (sajʿ), sustaining a rhythmic flow and sometimes incorporating quotes from poetry as illustration or embellishment. In structure, his maqamat have two protagonists, the first, the main protagonist, whom al-Hamadhani calls Abu ʾl-Fat-h al-Iskandari, is the one who undergoes the various adventures and describes them in an elevated, eloquent language that is transmitted to his narrator, here called ʿIsa ibn Hisham. And it is the latter who relates them to the reading or listening audience.
Always witty and often hilarious, each maqama is a tableau of a single experience, of an isolated adventure complete within itself that concentrates on both action and dialogue, the action usually limited in time and space, dramatic and intense, and the dialogue often intriguing and entertaining. The problematic world of the main protagonist, usually a trickster, often loosens its binding limits so he can override it triumphantly. Indeed, he seems to be the master of his time and fate.
Classical Arabic Stories Page 4