A story told by Juvayni explains the tolerance of Sanjar towards Ismaili independence: ‘Hasan-i Sabbah would send ambassadors to seek peace but his offers were not accepted. He then by all manner of wiles bribed certain of the Sultan’s courtiers to defend him before the Sultan; and he suborned one of his eunuchs with a large sum of money and sent him a dagger, which was stuck in the ground beside the Sultan’s bed one night when he lay in drunken sleep. When the Sultan awoke and saw the dagger he was filled with alarm but not knowing whom to suspect he ordered the matter to be kept secret. Hasan-i Sabbah then sent a messenger with the following message: “Did I not wish the Sultan well that dagger which was struck into the hard ground would have been planted in his soft breast.” The Sultan took fright and from then on inclined towards peace with them. In short, because of this imposture the Sultan refrained from attacking them and during his reign their cause prospered. He allowed them a pension of 3,000 dinars from the taxes on the lands belonging to them in the region of Qumish and also permitted them to levy a small toll on travellers passing beneath Girdkuh, a custom which has survived to this day. I saw several of Sanjar’s firmans which had been preserved in their library and in which he conciliated and flattered them; and from these I was able to deduce the extent to which the Sultan connived at their actions and sought to be on peaceful terms with them. In short, during his reign they enjoyed ease and tranquillity.’33
The Nizaris of Alamut had another enemy, besides the Ab-basid Caliphs and the Seljuq Sultans. In Cairo there was still a Fatimid Caliph, and between his followers and the Nizaris of Persia there was that special, intimate hatred that exists between rival branches of the same religion. In 1121 the redoubtable al-Afdal, the vizier and Commander of the Armies, was murdered in Cairo. Rumour inevitably blamed the Assassins – but a contemporary Damascene chronicler describes this as ‘empty pretence and insubstantial calumny’.34 The real reason for the murder, he says, was an estrangement between al-Afdal and the Fatimid Caliph al-Amir, who had succeeded al-Musta‘li in 1101. Al-Amir had resented the tutelage of his powerful vizier, and openly rejoiced at his death. This might well be, but rumour, this time, was right. The Ismaili narrative cited by Rashid al-Din and Kashani credits the murder to ‘three comrades from Aleppo’. When news came of Afdal’s death, ‘Our Master ordered them to celebrate for seven days and nights, and they entertained and feted the comrades.’35
The removal of al-Afdal, which caused such joy both in the castle of Alamut and the palace of Cairo, seemed a good moment to attempt a rapprochement between the two branches. In 1122 a public assembly was held in Cairo, at which the case for Musta‘li and against Nizar was recited and demonstrated; at about the same time, the Caliph defended his legitimacy in a pastoral letter, addressed primarily to the separated brethren, and the new vizier in Cairo, al-Ma’mun, instructed the secretary of chancery to write a long letter to Hasan-i Sabbah, urging him to return to the truth and to renounce his belief in the Imamate of Nizar. Thus far al-Ma’mun – himself a Twelver and not an Ismaili Shi‘ite – complied with the wishes of the Caliph and the da‘is. But the vizier clearly had no intention of allowing these dealings with Hasan-i Sabbah to go too far. The alleged discovery of a plot, directed and financed from Alamut, to assassinate both al-Amir and al-Ma’mun, was followed by the most elaborate security precautions, at the frontiers and in Cairo, to prevent the infiltration of assassin agents. ‘When al-Ma’mun came to power, it was reported to him that Ibn al-Sabbah [i.e. Hasan-i Sabbah] and the Batinis rejoiced at the death of al-Afdal, and that their hopes extended to the murder of both al-Amir and al-Ma’mun himself, and that they had sent messengers to their comrades living in Egypt, with money to distribute among them.
‘Al-Ma’mun came to the governor of Asqalan, and dismissed him, and appointed another in his place. He ordered the new governor to parade and inspect all holders of offices in Asqalan, and to remove all but those who were known to the local population. He instructed him to make a thorough examination of all merchants and other persons who arrived there, and not to take on trust what they themselves said as to their names, by-names and countries. . . but to question them about one another and to deal with them separately and to devote the greatest care to all this. If anyone came who was not in the habit of coming, he was to stop him at the border, and investigate his circumstances and the goods he was carrying. He was to deal in the same way with the camel-drivers, and to deny entry to the country to all save those who were known and regular visitors. He was not to allow any caravan to proceed until after he had sent a report in writing to the diwan, stating the number of merchants, their names, the names of their servants, the names of the camel-drivers, and a list of their merchandise, to be checked at the city of Bilbays and on their arrival at the gate. At the same time he was to show honour to the merchants and refrain from vexing them.
‘Then orders came from al-Ma’mun to the governors of old and new Cairo to register the names of all the inhabitants, street by street and quarter by quarter, and not to permit anyone to move from one house to another without his express authorization.
‘When he had taken note of the registers, and the names of the people of old and new Cairo, and their by-names and circumstances and livelihoods, and of whatever strangers came to each inhabitant of the quarters, then he sent out women to enter these houses and to pursue enquiries about the affairs of the Ismailis, so that there was nothing concerning the affairs of anyone in old or new Cairo that was hidden from him . . . then one day he sent out a number of soldiers and scattered them, and ordered them to arrest those whom he indicated . . .’35 Many such agents were arrested, including the tutor of the Caliph’s children; some of them had money in their possession, which Hasan-i Sabbah had given them for use in Egypt. So successful were the vizier’s policemen and spies, says the Egyptian chronicler, that from the very moment when an assassin left Alamut his movements were known and reported. A letter of pardon, inviting the Nizari leaders by name to return to the fold without fear of punishment, was apparently never sent, and relations between Cairo and Alamut deteriorated rapidly.
In May 1124 Hasan-i Sabbah fell ill. Feeling that his end was near, he made arrangements for his succession. His chosen heir was Buzurgumid, for 20 years commandant of Lammasar. ‘He sent someone to Lamasar to fetch Buzurgumid, and appointed him his successor. And he made Dihdar Abu-Ali of Ardistan [sit] on his right and entrusted him in particular with the propaganda chancery; Hasan son of Adam of Qasran he made [sit] on his left and Kya Ba-Ja‘far, who was the commander of his forces, in front of him. And he charged them, until such time as the Imam came to take possession of his kingdom, to act all four in concert and agreement. And in the night of Wednesday the 6th of Rabi‘ II, 518 [Friday, 23 May 1124], he hastened off to the fire of God and His hell.’37
It was the end of a remarkable career. An Arabic biographer, by no means friendly, describes him as ‘perspicacious, capable, learned in geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, magic, and other things’.38 The Ismaili biography cited by the Persian chroniclers stresses his asceticism and abstinence – ‘during the 35 years that he dwelt in Alamut nobody drank wine openly or put it in jars.’39 His severity was not confined to his opponents. One of his sons was executed for drinking wine; another was put to death on a charge, subsequently proved false, of having procured the murder of the da‘i Husayn Qa‘ini. ‘And he used to point to the execution of both his sons as a reason against any one’s imagining that he had conducted propaganda on their behalf and had had that object in mind.’40
Hasan-i Sabbah was a thinker and writer as well as a man of action. Sunni authors have preserved two citations from his works – a fragment of an autobiography, and an abridgement of a theological treatise.41 Among later Ismailis, he was revered as the prime mover in the da‘wa jadīda – new preaching – the reformed Ismaili doctrine which was promulgated after the break with Cairo, and which was preserved and elaborated among the Nizari Ismailis. Later Nizari works contain a number of pass
ages which may be quotations or summaries of his own teachings. Hasan never claimed to be an Imam – only a representative of the Imam. After the disappearance of the Imam he was the ujja, the proof – the source of knowledge of the hidden Imam of his time, the living link between the lines of manifest Imams of the past and the future, and the leader of the da‘wa. Ismaili doctrine is basically authoritarian. The believer has no right of choice, but must follow the ta‘līm, the authorized teaching. The ultimate source of guidance was the Imam; the immediate source was his accredited representative. Men could not choose their Imam, as the Sunnis said, nor exercise judgement in determining the truth in matters of theology and law. God appointed the Imam, and the Imam was the repository of the truth. Only the Imam could validate both revelation and reason; only the Ismaili Imam, by the nature of his office and teaching, could in fact do this, and he alone therefore was the true Imam. His rivals were usurpers, their followers sinners, their teachings falsehood.
This doctrine, with its stress on loyalty and obedience, and its rejection of the world as it was, became a powerful weapon in the hands of a secret, revolutionary opposition. The painful realities of the Fatimid Caliphate in Egypt had become an embarrassment to Ismaili claims. The break with Cairo, and the transfer of allegiance to a mysterious hidden Imam, released the pent-up forces of Ismaili passion and devotion; it was the achievement of Hasan-i Sabbah to arouse and direct them.
4
The Mission in Persia
The death of a Seljuq Sultan meant an immediate halt to all positive action, and an interval of conflict and uncertainty, during which the internal and external enemies of the state could find and seize their opportunities. There must have been many who expected that the Ismaili principality founded by Hasan-i Sabbah would, on his death, conform to this lamentably normal pattern of Muslim government in this period.
In 1126, two years after the succession of Buzurgumid, Sultan Sanjar launched an attack which put the question to the test. Since his expedition against Tabas in 1103, Sanjar had taken no action against the Ismailis, and may even have entered into some sort of agreement with them. No immediate casus belli for the anti-Ismaili offensive of 1126 is known. The growing confidence of the Sultan, and the presumed weakness of the Ismailis under their new ruler, may be a sufficient explanation of his decision no longer to tolerate this dangerous and independent power on the borders and even within the borders of his Empire. An important role was played by the Sultan’s vizier Mu‘in al-Din Kashi, an advocate of strong action.
The first attack seems to have come in the East. ‘In this year the vizier . . . gave orders to make war against the Ismailis, to kill them wherever they were and wherever they were conquered, to pillage their property and enslave their women. He sent an army against Turaythith [in Quhistan] which was in their hands, and against Bayhaq, in the province of Nishapur . . . he despatched troops against every part of their possessions, with orders to kill whatever Ismailis they encountered.’1 The implication would seem to be that the Ismailis were to be denied the rights allowed to prisoners and civilians by Muslim law in inter-Muslim warfare, and to be treated as infidels, subject to death or enslavement. The Arabic chronicler reports two successes – the conquest of the Ismaili village of Tarz, near Bayhaq, where the population was put to the sword and their leader killed himself by leaping from the minaret of the mosque, and a raid on Turaythith, where the troops ‘killed many, took much booty, and then returned’. It is clear that the results of the campaign were limited and inconclusive. In the north the offensive fared even worse. An expedition against Rudbar, led by the nephew of Shirgir, was driven back, and much booty taken from them. Another, launched with local help, was also defeated, and one of its commanders captured.
The vengeance of the Ismailis was not long delayed. Two fida‘is wormed their way into the vizier’s household in the guise of grooms, and by their skill and their display of piety gained his confidence. They found their opportunity when the vizier summoned them to his presence, to choose two Arab horses as a gift for the Sultan on the Persian New Year. The murder took place on 16 March 1127. ‘He did good deeds and showed worthy intentions in fighting against them,’ said Ibn al-Athir, ‘and God granted him martyrdom.’2 The same historian records a punitive expedition by Sanjar against Alamut, in which more than 10,000 Ismailis perished. This is not mentioned by Ismaili or other sources, and is probably an invention.
The end of hostilities found the Ismailis rather stronger than before. In Rudbar, they had reinforced their position by building a new and powerful fortress, called Maymundiz,3 and had extended their territory, notably by acquiring Talaqan. In the East, Ismaili forces, presumably from Quhistan, raided Sistan in 1129.4 In the same year Mahmud, the Seljuq Sultan of Isfahan, found it prudent to discuss peace, and invited an envoy from Alamut. Unfortunately the envoy, with a colleague, was lynched by the Isfahan mob when he left the Sultan’s presence. The Sultan apologized and disclaimed responsibility but, understandably, refused Buzurgumid’s request to punish the murderers. The Ismailis responded by attacking Qazvin, where, according to their own chronicle, they killed four hundred people and took enormous booty. The Qazvinis tried to fight back, but, says the Ismaili chronicler, when the comrades killed one Turkish emir, the rest of them fled.5 An attack on Alamut by Mahmud himself at this time failed to achieve any result.
In 1131 Sultan Mahmud died, and the usual wrangle followed between his brothers and his son. Some of the emirs managed to involve the Caliph of Baghdad, al-Mustarshid, in an alliance against Sultan Mas‘ud, and in 1139 the Caliph, with his vizier and a number of his dignitaries, was captured by Mas‘ud near Hamadan. The Sultan took his distinguished captive to Maragha, where he is said to have treated him with respect – but did not prevent a large group of Ismailis from entering the camp and murdering him. An Abbasid Caliph – the titular head of Sunni Islam – was an obvious objective for the daggers of the assassins if opportunity arose, but rumour accused Mas‘ud of complicity or deliberate negligence, and even charged Sanjar, still the nominal overlord of the Seljuq rulers, as an instigator of the crime. Juvayni tries hard to exonerate both of them from these charges: ‘Some of the more short-sighted and ill–wishers to the House of Sanjar accused them of responsibility for this act. But “the astrologers lied, by the Lord of the Ka‘ba!” The goodness of Sultan Sanjar’s character and the purity of his nature as instanced in his following and strengthening the Hanafite faith and the Shari‘a [holy law], his respect for all that related to the Caliphate as also his mercy and compassion are too plain and evident for the like false and slanderous charges to be laid against his person, which was the source of clemency and the fountain-head of pity.’6
In Alamut, the news of the Caliph’s death was received with exultation. They celebrated for seven days and nights, made much of the comrades, and reviled the name and emblems of the Abbasids.
The list of assassinations in Persia during the reign of Buzurgumid is comparatively short, though not undistinguished. Besides the Caliph, the victims include a prefect of Isfahan, a governor of Maragha, murdered not long before the arrival of the Caliph in that city, a prefect of Tabriz, and a mufti of Qazvin.
The slackening in the pace of assassination is not the only change in the character of the Ismaili principality. Unlike Hasan-i Sabbah, Buzurgumid was a local man in Rudbar, not a stranger; he had not shared Hasan’s experience as a secret agitator, but had spent most of his active life as a ruler and administrator. His adoption of the role of a territorial ruler, and his acceptance by others as such, are strikingly demonstrated by the flight to Alamut, with his followers, of the emir Yarankush, an old and redoubtable enemy of the Ismailis, when he was displaced by the rising power of the Khorazmshah (Shah of Khorazm). The Shah asked for their surrender, arguing that he had been a friend of the Ismailis, while Yarankush had been their enemy – but Buzurgumid refused to hand them over, saying: ‘I cannot reckon as an enemy anyone who places himself under my protection.’7 The Ismai
li chronicler of the reign of Buzurgumid takes an obvious delight in recounting such stories of magnanimity – stories that reflect the role of a chivalrous lord rather than a revolutionary leader.
The Ismaili ruler fulfilled this role even to the point of suppressing heresy. In 1131, says the Ismaili chronicler, a Shi‘ite called Abu Hashim appeared in Daylam and sent letters as far away as Khurasan. ‘Buzurgumid sent him a letter of advice, drawing his attention to the proofs of God.’ Abu Hashim replied: ‘What you say is unbelief and heresy. If you come here and we discuss it, the falsity of your beliefs will become apparent.’ The Ismailis sent an army against him, and defeated him. ‘They caught Abu Hashim, supplied him with ample proof, and burned him.’8
The long reign of Buzurgumid ended with his death on 9 February 1138. As Juvayni elegantly puts it: ‘Buzurgumid remained seated on the throne of Ignorance ruling over Error until the 26th of Jumada I, 532 [9 February 1138], when he was crushed under the heel of Perdition and Hell was heated with the fuel of his carcase.’9 It is significant of the changing nature of Ismaili leadership that he was succeeded without incident by his son Muhammad, whom he had nominated as heir only three days before his death. When Buzurgumid died, says the Ismaili chronicler, ‘their enemies became joyful and insolent’,10 but they were soon made to realize that their hopes were vain.
The first victim of the new reign was another Abbasid – the ex-Caliph al-Rashid, the son and successor of the murdered al-Mustarshid. Like his father, he had become involved in Seljuq disputes, and had been solemnly deposed by an assembly of judges and jurists convened by the Sultan. Al-Rashid had then left Iraq for Persia, to join his allies, and was in Isfahan, recuperating from an illness, when his assassins found him on 5 or 6 June 1138. The murderers were Khurasanis in his own service. The death of a caliph was again celebrated with a week of rejoicing at Alamut, in honour of the first Victory’ of the new reign.11
The Assassins: A Redical Sect in Islam Page 8