When we recall the exuberant and omnipresent use of painting and sculpture in Catholic cathedrals, and its importance as a vehicle of Christian creed and story, we are struck by the absence of the representative arts in Islam. The Koran had forbidden sculpture (v, 92), but it had said nothing about painting. However, a tradition ascribed to Aisha reported the Prophet as condemning pictures too.139 Moslem law, Shi’ite as well as Sunnite, enforced the double prohibition. Doubtless Mohammed had been influenced by the Second Commandment and Judaic teaching, and partly by the notion that the artist, in giving form to living things, usurped the function of the Creator. Some theologians relaxed the prohibition, permitting pictures of inanimate things; some winked at the portrayal of animal or human figures on objects intended only for secular use. Certain Umayyad caliphs ignored the prohibitions; about 712 Walid I adorned his summer palace at Qusayr Amra with Hellenistic frescoes depicting hunters, dancing girls, women bathing, and himself on his throne.140 The Abbasid caliphs professed piety, but had murals in their private chambers; al-Mutasim hired artists, probably Christian, to paint hunting scenes, priests, and naked dancing girls on the walls of his palace at Samarra; and al-Mutawakkil, who persecuted heretics, permitted Byzantine painters to add to these frescoes one that represented Christian monks and a Christian church.141 Mahmud of Ghazni decorated his palace with pictures of himself, his armies, and his elephants; and his son Masud, shortly before being deposed by the Seljuq Turks, covered the walls of his chambers at Herat with scenes based on Persian or Indian manuals of erotic techniques.142 A story tells how, at the home of a vizier, two artists vied with each other in realistic representation: Ibn Aziz proposed to paint a dancing girl so that she would seem to be coming out of the wall; al-Qasir undertook a harder task—to paint her so that she would seem to be going into the wall. Each succeeded so well that the vizier gave them robes of honor, and much gold.143 Many other violations of the interdict could be listed; in Persia particularly we find living things pictured in joyous abundance, and in every form of pictorial art. Nevertheless the prohibition—supported by the people to the point of occasionally mutilating or destroying works of art—delayed the development of Islamic painting, largely restricted it to abstract ornament, almost excluded portraiture (yet we hear of forty portraits of Avicenna), and left the artists completely dependent upon royal or aristocratic patronage.
From this age no Moslem murals survive save those of Qusayr Amra and Samarra; they reveal a strange and barren marriage of Byzantine techniques with Sasanian designs. As if in compensation, Islamic miniatures are among the finest in history. Here fruition came to a varied heritage—Byzantine, Sasanian, and Chinese; and zealous hands carried on an art so intimately beautiful that one almost resents Gutenberg. Like chamber music in modern Europe, so in medieval Islam the illumination of manuscripts with miniature paintings was an art for the aristocratic few; only the rich could maintain an artist in the devoted poverty that produced these patient masterpieces. Here again decoration subordinated representation; perspective and modeling were deliberately ignored; a central motif or form—perhaps a geometrical figure or a single flower—was extended in a hundred variations, until nearly every inch, and even the border, of the page was filled with lines as carefully drawn as if incised. In secular works men, women, and animals might be introduced, in scenes of hunting, humor, or love; but always the ornament was the thing, the fanciful play of delicate line, the liquid flow of harmonious colors, the cool perfection of abstract beauty, intended for a mind at peace. Art is significance rendered with feeling through form; but the feeling must accept discipline, and the form must have structure and meaning, even if the meaning outreach the realm of words. This is the art of illumination, as of the profoundest music.
Calligraphy was an integral part of illumination; one must go as far as China to find again so fraternal a union of writing and design. From Kufa had come the Kufic letters, clumsily angular, crudely sharp; the calligraphers clothed these meager bones with vowel, inflectional, prosodic, diacritical marks, and little floral flourishes; so redeemed, the Kufic script became a frequent feature of architectural decoration. For cursive writing, however, the Naskhi form of the Arabic alphabet proved more attractive; its rounded characters and sinuous horizontal flow were of themselves a decoration; in all the world is no writing or print that equals it in beauty. By the tenth century it had gained the upper hand over Kufic in all but monumental or ceramic lettering; most of the Moslem books that have reached us from the Middle Ages are in Naskhi script. The majority of these surviving volumes are Korans. Merely to copy the holy book was a work of piety sure of divine reward; to illustrate it with pictures was accounted sacrilege; but to lavish beautiful handwriting upon it was deemed the noblest of the arts. Whereas miniaturists were hired artisans poorly paid, calligraphers were sought and honored with royal gifts, and numbered kings and statesmen in their ranks. A scrap of writing by a master’s hand was a priceless treasure; already in the tenth century there were bibliophiles who lived and moved and had their being in their collections of fine manuscripts, written on parchment with inks of black, blue, violet, red, and gold. Only a few such volumes have reached us from this age; the oldest is a Koran in the Cairo Library, dated 784. When we add that such works were bound in the softest, strongest leather, tooled or stamped with unexcelled artistry, and the cover itself in many instances adorned with an elegant design, we may without hyperbole rank Islamic books of the ninth to the eighteenth century as the finest ever issued. Which of us can be published in such splendor today?
In the embellishment of Islamic life all the arts mingled like the interlaces of a decorative theme. So the patterns of illumination and calligraphy were woven into textiles, burned into pottery, and mounted on portals and mihrabs. If medieval civilization made little distinction between artist and artisan it was not to belittle the artist but to ennoble the artisan; the goal of every industry was to become an art. The weaver, like the potter, made undistinguished products for ephemeral use; but sometimes his skill and patience found expression, his dream found form, in robes or hangings, rugs or coverings, embroideries or brocades, woven for many lifetimes, designed with the finesse of a miniature, and dyed in the gorgeous colors so favored of the East. Byzantine, Coptic, Sasanian, Chinese textiles were already famous when the Moslems conquered Syria, Persia, Egypt, and Transoxiana; Islam was quick to learn; and though the Prophet had proscribed silk, Moslem factories soon issued the sinful substance in bold abundance for men and women who sought forgiveness for their bodies as well as their souls. A “robe of honor” was the most precious present a caliph could offer his servitors. The Moslems became the leading silk merchants of the medieval world. Persian silk taftah was bought for European ladies as taffeta. Shiraz was famous for its woolen cloths, Baghdad for its baldachin* hangings and tabby silks; Khuzistan for fabrics of camel’s or goat’s hair; Khurasan for its sofa (Arabic suffah) covers, Tyre for its carpets, Bokhara for its prayer rugs, Herat for its gold brocades. No samples of these products from this period have survived the wear and tear of time; we can only surmise their excellence from later work, and the witness of the writers of their age. An entry in the archives of Harun al-Rashid notes “400,000 pieces of gold, the price of a robe of honor for Jafar, the son of Yahya the Vizier.”144
VIII. MUSIC
Music, like sculpture, was at first a sin in Islam.145 It was not forbidden in the Koran; but, if we may believe a dubious tradition, the Prophet, fearful of the songs and dances of promiscuous women, denounced musical instruments as the devil’s muezzin call to damnation. The theologians, and all the four schools of orthodox law, frowned upon music as raising the winds of passion; but some generously conceded that it was not sinful in itself. The people, always healthier in their conduct than in their creeds, held it as a proverb that “wine is as the body, music is as the soul, joy is their offspring.”146 Music accompanied every stage of Moslem life, and filled a thousand and one Arabian nights with songs of love a
nd war and death. Every palace, and many mansions, engaged minstrels to sing the songs of the poets, or their own. In the startling judgment of an historian fully competent to judge, “the cultivation of music by the Arabs in all its branches reduces to insignificance the recognition of the art in the history of any other country.”147 No Western ear, except after long training, can quite appreciate the quality of Arabian music—its preference of melodic elaboration (arabesques of sound) to harmony and counterpoint, its division of tones not into halves but into thirds, its florid Oriental patterns of structure and rhythm. To us it seems repetitiously simple, monotonously mournful, formlessly weird; to the Arabs European music seems deficient in the number and subtlety of its tones, and vulgarly addicted to useless complexity and monumental noise. The meditative tenderness of Arabian music deeply affects the Moslem soul. Sa’di speaks of a boy “singing such a plaintive melody as would arrest a bird in its flight”;148 al-Ghazali defined ecstasy as “the state that comes from listening to music”;149 one Arabic book gives a chapter to those who fainted or died while listening to Moslem music; and religion, which at first denounced it, later adopted music for the intoxicating dervish ritual.
Moslem music began with ancient Semitic forms and tunes; developed in contact with Greek “modes” that were themselves of Asiatic origin; and felt strong influences from Persia and India. A musical notation, and much musical theory, were taken from the Greeks; al-Kindi, Avicenna, and the Brethren of Sincerity wrote at length on the subject; al-Farabi’s Grand Book on Music is the outstanding medieval production on the theory of music—“equal, if not superior, to anything that has come down to us from Greek sources.”150 As early as the seventh century the Moslems wrote mensurable music (apparently unknown to Europe before 1190)151—their notation indicated the duration, as well as the pitch, of each note.
Among a hundred musical instruments the chief were the lute, lyre, pandore, psaltery, and flute, occasionally reinforced by horn, cymbals, tambourine, castanets, and drum. The lyre was a small harp. The lute was like our mandolin, with a long neck and a curved sounding board made of small glued segments of maple wood; the strings, of catgut, were plucked by the fingers. There were a dozen sizes and varieties of lute. The large lute was called qitara from the Greek kithara; our words guitar and lute (Arabic al-ud) are from the Arabic. Some string instruments were played with a bow, and the organ was known in both its pneumatic and its hydraulic forms. Certain Moslem cities, like Seville, were celebrated for making fine musical instruments, far superior to anything produced in contemporary Islam.152 Nearly all instrumental music was intended to accompany or introduce song. Performances were usually confined to four or five instruments at a time, but we also read of large orchestras;153 and tradition ascribes to the Medina musician Surayj the first use of the baton.154
Despite the Moslem madness for music, the status of musicians, except for renowned virtuosos, was low. Few men of the higher classes condescended to study the intoxicating art. The music of a rich household was provided by female slaves; and a school of law held that the testimony of a musician could not be accepted in court.155 Dancing likewise was almost confined to slaves trained and hired; it was often erotic, often artistic; the Caliph Amin personally directed an all-night ballet in which a large number of girls danced and sang. Contact of the Arabs with Greeks and Persians raised the status of the musician. Umayyad and Abbasid caliphs showered largess upon the great performers of their time. Suleiman I offered prizes as high as 20,000 pieces of silver ($10,000) for a competition among the musicians of Mecca; Walid II held song tournaments, at one of which the first prize was 300,000 pieces of silver ($150,000);156 these figures are presumably Oriental exaggerations. Mahdi invited to his court the Meccan singer Siyat, “whose soul warmed and chilled more than a hot bath”; and Harun al-Rashid took into his service Siyat’s pupil Ibrahim al-Mawsili (i.e., of Mosul), gave him 150,000 dirhems ($75,000), 10,000 more per month, and 100,000 for a single song.157 Harun so loved music that—against the wont of his class—he encouraged the talent of his young half brother, Ibrahim ibn al-Mahdi, who had a voice of tremendous power and three octaves’ range; time seems an impish circle when we hear that he led a kind of Romantic movement in Arabian music against the classical school of Ishaq, son of Ibrahim al-Mawsili.158 Ishaq was by general consent the greatest musician ever produced by Islam. Al-Mamun used to say of him: “He never sang to me but what I felt that my possessions were increased.”159
We get a pleasant picture of Moslem society, and of the stir made by music in the Moslem soul, in a story told by Ibrahim al-Mawsili’s pupil Mukhariq; we need not believe it to feel its significance:
After drinking with the Caliph a whole night, I asked his permission to take the air,… which he granted. While I was walking I saw a damsel who appeared as if the rising sun beamed from her face. She had a basket, and I followed her. She stopped at a fruiterer’s, and bought some fruit; and observing that I was following her, she looked back and abused me several times; but still I followed her until she arrived at a great door…. When she had entered, and the door was closed behind her, I sat down opposite to it, deprived of my reason by her beauty…. The sun went down upon me while I sat there; and at length there came two handsome young men on asses, and they knocked at the door, and when they were admitted, I entered with them; the master of the house thinking that I was their companion, and they imagining that I was one of his friends. A repast was brought us, and we ate, and washed our hands, and were perfumed. The master of the house then said to the two young men, “Have ye any desire that I should call such a one?” (mentioning a woman’s name). They answered: “If thou wilt grant us the favor, well.” So he called for her, and she came, and lo, she was the maiden whom I had seen…. A servant maid preceded her, bearing her lute, which she placed in her lap. Wine was then brought, and she sang, while we drank and shook with delight. “Whose air is that?” they asked. She answered, “My master Mukhariq’s.” She then sang another air, which she said was also mine, while they drank by pints; she looking aside doubtfully at me until I lost my patience, and called out to her to do her best; but in attempting to do so, singing a third air, she overstrained her voice, and I said, “Thou hast made a mistake”; upon which she threw the lute from her lap in anger, saying … “Take it thyself, and let us hear thee.” I answered, “Well”; and having taken it and tuned it perfectly, I sang the first of the airs which she had sung before me; whereupon all of them sprang to their feet and kissed my head. I then sang the second air, and the third; and their reason almost fled with ecstasy.
The master of the house, after asking his guests and being told by them that they knew me not, came to me, and kissing my hand, said, “By Allah, my master, who art thou?” I answered, “By Allah, I am the singer Mukhariq.” “And for what purpose,” said he, kissing both my hands, “earnest thou hither?” I replied, “As a sponger”—and I related what had happened with respect to the maiden. Thereupon he looked toward his two companions and said to them: “Tell me, by Allah, do ye not know that I gave for that girl 30,000 dirhems ($15,000), and have refused to sell her?” They answered, “It is so.” Then, said he, “I take you as witnesses that I have given her to him.” “And we,” said the two friends, “will pay thee two-thirds of her price.” So he put me in possession of the girl; and in the evening, when I departed, he presented me also with rich robes and other gifts, with all of which I went away. And as I passed the places where the maiden had abused me, I said to her, “Repeat thy words to me”; but she would not for shame. Holding the girl’s hand, I went with her to the Caliph, whom I found in anger at my long absence; but when I related my story to him he was surprised, and laughed, and ordered that the master of the house and his two friends should be brought before him, that he might requite them; to the former he gave 40,000 dirhems; to each of his two friends 30,000; and to me 100,000; and I kissed his feet and departed.160
CHAPTER XIII
Western Islam
64
1–1086
I. THE CONQUEST OF AFRICA
THE Near East was but a part of the Islamic world. Egypt under the Moslems resurrected her Pharaonic glory; Tunis, Sicily, and Morocco recovered orderly government under Arab leadership, and a passing brilliance illuminated Qairwan, Palermo, and Fez; Moorish Spain was a peak in the history of civilization; and later the Moslem Moguls, ruling India, would “build like giants and finish like jewelers.”
While Khalid and other conquerors subdued the East, Amr ibn al-As, only seven years after Mohammed’s death, set out from Gaza in Palestine, captured Pelusium and Memphis, and marched upon Alexandria. Egypt had ports and naval bases, and Arab power needed a fleet; Egypt exported corn to Constantinople, and Arabia needed corn. The Byzantine government in Egypt had for centuries used Arab mercenaries as police; these were no hindrance to the conquerors. The Monophysite Christians of Egypt had suffered Byzantine persecution; they received the Moslems with open arms, helped them to take Memphis, guided them into Alexandria. When it fell to Amr after a siege of twenty-three months (641), he wrote to the Caliph Omar: “It is impossible to enumerate the riches of this great city, or to describe its beauty; I shall content myself with observing that it contains 4000 palaces, 400 baths, 400 theaters.”1 Amr prevented pillage, preferring taxation. Unable to understand the theological differences among the Christian sects, he forbade his Monophysite allies to revenge themselves upon their orthodox foes, and upset the custom of centuries by proclaiming freedom of worship for all.