The Autobiography of al-‘Imād al-Dīn al-Kātib al-Iṣfahānī
(1125–1201)
Introduction
‘Imād al-Dīn's memoirs of his life with Saladin are titled The Syrian Thunderbolt (al-Barq al-shāmī), which refers to the brief but glorious reigns of Nūr al-Dīn and Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn [ = Saladin] that saw the unification of Syria, Palestine, and Egypt into a single kingdom and the recapture of Jerusalem from the hands of the Crusaders who had held it for eighty-eight years (1099–1187). After Saladin's death, the kingdom was divided among his three sons and one of his brothers, who soon began to vie with one another for control of the region, leading rapidly to a period of political instability.
Although ‘Imād al-Dīn's work is framed as a life of Saladin, the narrative focus slips away again and again to highlight the role of ‘Imad al-Dīn himself, so much so that later Arab autobiographers such as al-Suyūṭī and al-Sha‘rānī regarded the work as autobiographical, one in which the author had “portrayed himself” (tarjama nafsah). Reading ‘Imād al-Dīn's work, one might well wonder whether a single work can portray two lives and therefore function simultaneously as both biography and autobiography. The text could in any case easily be titled “My Life with Saladin.” We view Saladin's reign and his deeds through the eyes and opinions of his faithful, though none too modest, personal secretary and assistant, ‘Imād al-Dīn. One of the constant motifs within the narrative is the contrast between “the pen” and “the sword” and the interdependence of the men who wield them. This is a relationship that is depicted as being complementary and necessary to both groups.
‘Imād al-Dīn gives us a wonderfully detailed account of the day-to-day activities of a high-ranking administrative secretary: drafting reports, writing elaborately euphuistic proclamations, composing verses to be used as embellishments in the ruler's personal correspondence, buying books, attending public readings of poetry and lectures on religious topics, and even helping the ruler to organize public disputations over religious law in celebration of the holy month of Ramadan. The following selected passages demonstrate two of the author's favorite themes: his personal role during the reign of Saladin and his own social commentaries regarding the “men of the pen” and the “men of the sword.” The final passage translated here constitutes one of ‘Imād al-Dīn's true moments of personal glory, when he is selected by Saladin to draft the official proclamations sent out to all the cities of the realm announcing the reconquest of Jerusalem from the Crusaders. Only two volumes of ‘Imād al-Dīn's original work have survived, but an abridgment by al-Bundarī, Sanā al-barq al-shāmī, gives a sense of the whole. The following passages are translated from al-Bundarī (as marked).
Bibliography
Missing
The Pen and the Sword
Prologue
[Sanā al-barq, pp. 13–14]
Thoughtful is the person who recognizes the value, and acknowledges the generosity, of the one who fostered and promoted him. If he is appointed to the service of a master, he should return this benevolence by praising him even after his death. As for me, the one who provided me with my livelihood and selected me as his secretary during his lifetime, then left me to write his praises after his death, was the Victorious King Ṣalāḥ al-Dunyā wa-l-Dīn Abū Muִzaffar Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb [= Saladin]—may God's mercy be bestowed upon him. I worked alongside him and found him to be the best of company. Now that his epoch and his life have ended, I fear lest his memory fade, so I am writing this book and endowing it with the finest of rhyming prose. After pondering and considering the completed work, I decided to call it The Syrian Thunderbolt [al-Barq al-shāmī], because I arrived in Damascus in the month of Sha‘bān 562 [1166 C.E.], during the reign of the Just King Nūr al-Dīn Maḥmūd ibn Zankī—may God bless his era with the best of mercy—and I found the state well structured and stable, its reputation strong, and its leadership benevolent under his rule and likewise during the reign of Saladin up until the twenty-seventh of the month of Safar in 589 [March 3, 1193—the date of Saladin's death]. I then saw that regime vanish as if in a sudden flash or the blink of an eye. All was over. Gone were the days, the nights, the months, and the years as if they had all been nothing but a dream.
In this book I present some recollections of my days with Sultan Saladin. I start by reporting how and when I first met him and by describing my service to him. I describe the beginning of his rule and the circumstances of his arrival in Syria where I joined his administration. Then I chronicle every year of his reign and list all of his good deeds.
My pen accompanied his sword and helped his dominion: the former providing endorsement, the latter causing death; the former sustaining security, the latter inducing fear. The sultan depended upon my penmanship and used to say, “Thank God, for He did not cause me to be disappointed by al-‘Imād and He coupled my success with his.” Then, after his passing, I showed my loyalty's endurance and sang his praise in my writing. I revived his memory with my accounts and immortalized his deeds in my books. I have in truth offered him a second life after his death. After the Almighty chose to call him to His side, and his kingdom was divided between his sons, I told myself they would follow their father's example and acknowledge my value and elevate my rank further and grant me my due. But instead, they withheld my salary and caused me such distress that I had to write a lengthy letter to the master al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil to complain.
How I arrived in Damascus [pp. 17–21]
I left Baghdad and came to Damascus not because I aspired to join the service of any of its nobility, but because I felt alienated in Baghdad after the death of my patron the vizier ‘Awn al-Dīn Yaḥyā b. Muḥammad b. Habira. He had favored me, selected me for his service, and appointed me his deputy in Basra and Wasit many times, so that I became known as his client. After his death in 560 [1164], I stayed in Baghdad where all those who were associated with him were oppressed. I was not directly targeted and was left to go about on my own. I started frequenting the circles of scholars and jurists, learning from them and debating with them. One of these scholars was from Damascus and always extolled his city's excellence and described the beauty of its orchards, the purity of its air, and the scarcity of its illnesses. I enjoyed his company and was enticed by his description of his city, so I decided to go to Damascus as a distraction from my malaise. He escorted me until we got close to Damascus. Then suddenly he changed his friendly attitude and left me there. Alone, disappointed, and frustrated, I told my companions, “Pitch my tent here and let us wait, maybe someone will help us.” By that time, one of the Sufis who recognized me had gone to the judge of Damascus, Kamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad b. ‘Abd Allāh b. al-Qāsim al-Shahrazūrī, and informed him of my presence in the vicinity of the city.
Soon afterward, still wallowing in incertitude, we were surprised by the arrival of a group of the judge's pages, deputies, and servants who offered me his apologies for not being able to come personally and extended his invitation to lodge anywhere I chose. I opted for the madrasa [college of law] of which I am now the rector. I started to visit the judge regularly and to attend his sessions and lessons. I distinguished myself by participating in the discussions and by quoting from original sources in my debates in both basic and advanced fields of learning. At that time, news of my arrival reached Prince Najm al-Dīn who was curious to meet me because of his prior acquaintance with my uncle. He came personally to my home to show me his respect and to satisfy my expectations. I welcomed him and hurried to offer him reverence. At the end of the month of Shawwāl 562 [1167], I composed a poem in his honor in which I extolled his virtues and predicted the conquest of Egypt at the hands of his brother Asad al-Dīn and his son, Saladin, who had gone there on campaign for the second time.
When Asad al-Dīn came back to Damascus, he was informed of my presence. He used to sit every night with the notables, so I went to him to pay him homage. He received me with all the signs of respect and friendship. He spent a long time with me remembering my uncle al-‘Azīz and praising his memory, and showered me with generous offers and gifts. I, in return, presented him with a panegyric poem on the night of Friday, the twenty-seventh of the month of Dhū al-Qa‘da 562 [Sept. 14, 1167]. I also met Saladin and we soon became close friends. He often asked me to offer him some of my poetry or my prose.
How I entered the service of Nūr al-Dīn and changed the secretariat [pp. 22–23]
The judge Kamāl al-Dīn al-Shahrazūrī told me, “It would be in your interest to write a poem praising Nūr al-Dīn; we hope you will attain a good position in his administration.” So I composed a poem which was delivered to Nūr al-Dīn by the judge, of which these are the opening verses:
If she had kept her oaths on the day of departure,
her promises of meeting would not have delayed our meeting.What [wrongs] have my heart committed that it,
in burning fire, must ever yearn for you?I have not forgotten how her tears were scattered
o'er her cheeks, like the pearls of her necklace unstrung.As she drew near to bid me farewell,
in her closeness her distance grew clear.As when the archer pulls his arrow tight,
drawing near was but the first step of her flight.
Then Nūr al-Dīn appointed me to his secretariat as a scribe in the beginning of the year 563 [1167]. Soon afterward he left for the city of Ḥimṣ where he stayed for a few days to review a number of matters and solve a few problems. I went after him and then followed him to the city of Ḥamāh where I was lodged by Asad al-Dīn Shirkuh in a tent next to his own tent. Early every day, I used to go to work engrossed in my worries about my performance in a job to which I was unaccustomed. I thought that the other secretaries and scribes looked down on me and considered my talents lacking. I also thought a career in the secretariat a difficult one, especially with regard to the redaction of reports, until I read the notes and letters which came in from different regions and provinces and found them very weak in language and style.
I felt strong enough to undertake the task of changing the mediocre state of affairs and introduced a new style of writing that was unknown to my colleagues. In it I fulfilled the requirements of high prose and eliminated the distortion of language that dominated the old style. I wrote in this new style to the provinces while the other scribes mocked and slandered me. I ignored them and all the while I tried to show them the right way and did my best to advise them. Soon afterward, my pen spoke for the excellence of my style and my knowledge elevated my status. My colleagues gathered around me and acknowledged my skills. My prestige rose constantly and Nūr al-Dīn endowed me with further honor by appointing me to a position closer to him. I, in return, improved the quality of his statements by my prose. Nūr al-Dīn liked me all the more and rewarded me correspondingly.
When Nūr al-Dīn decided to go to Aleppo, Asad al-Dīn was sent a few days ahead of him. Before leaving, he entrusted me to his nephew, Saladin, and left me the tent that he had ordered pitched for me with all its accoutrements. I stayed behind and spent the time in the company of Saladin day and night until Nūr al-Dīn ordered us to proceed to Aleppo. There he resided in the citadel throughout the winter and I stayed in the madrasa of Ibn al-‘Ajamī. That winter was very cold and gray and I used to visit Saladin frequently in his home. He asked me to compose a few verses for him on yearning so that he could insert them in his letters to those he missed and was longing to see.
[ . . . ] On Monday the fourth of the month of Ramadan [569/1174], Nūr al-Dīn went on horseback for his tour as usual. We [the scribes] were left in his office to do our work. Someone came and informed me that Nūr al-Dīn had visited the madrasa of which I was in charge, spread his carpet, and prayed in its qibla. I immediately went there and met Nūr al-Dīn in its vestibule when he was leaving. He stopped when he saw me and I said, “You have honored this place with your presence, but have you noticed how it was affected by the last earthquake?” [June 29, 1170] “We shall restore it to its original form,” he replied. I then sent him sweet confections, an item of clothing, some incense, and some camphor, and to accompany them composed three verses:
He noticed that the prayer niche of the madrasa was not covered with gold mosaics, so he sent for gilded tesserae and gold, but he died before the mosaic could be applied. I then traveled to Mosul, where he appeared to me in my sleep. In the dream he said to me, “The madrasa needs what belongs to it.” I explained to him, “I have appointed someone to take care of it for me.” He retorted, “The prayer [niche]!” And when I woke up, I understood his reference to the prayer niche and that it was now in a ruinous state. So I wrote to the jurist who had taken my place and who had the gold in storage with him, and told him to use it immediately for the finishing of the prayer niche. When I came back to Damascus in the days of Saladin, I entered the city on the day of the completion of the prayer niche's gilding and thus fulfilled the wish of my late patron.
For Solomon with all his might
a present from an ant sufficed.Kings are no greater than a small nuisance
for you, and they always hope for your goodness.I am a slave to our master, all I own is his,
my heart is filled with gratitude toward him.
How I departed from Damascus and returned to Cairo [pp. 114–18]
Saladin decided to leave Damascus and go back to Cairo. He left in the morning of Friday the fourth of the month of Rabī‘ al-Awwal. I waited until I performed the Friday prayer and then headed toward the royal encampment, reaching it after nightfall. I missed my family dreadfully and expressed my feelings in verse at every stop on the road.
After we arrived in Cairo, I was assigned the editing of the letters sent to Syria, which did not take up all of my time, so I was able to take the opportunity to spend my free time attending poetry readings in Giza and al-Jazīra [Rawḍa island], participating in sessions in the madrasas and study circles, and investigating literary and legal topics. At night, I used to go to the sultan [Saladin] for consultation and for study, for literary discussions and ascetic readings. The sultan used to spend some time with me after evening prayers whenever he needed to send some communications or to consult me on some state secret. He would dictate what he wanted to me. I would then go back home to compose the letters and come back to him early in the morning to show him the final drafts and add whatever corrections he deemed necessary.
[ . . . ] Book sales used to be held in the Fatimid palace twice weekly. Books were sold for very low prices. I did like everyone else and took advantage of the situation by buying a number of precious books. When I informed the sultan of what I had bought, he granted me their price as a gift and added to it by giving me more books from the palace's shelves than I had selected. I once entered into his presence and found him examining a large number of folios from the palace's collection. He asked me, “Aren't some of these among the books you have selected?” “All of them,” I replied, “and I would not let go of a single one.” So he ordered a porter to carry them all to my house. This was but one example of his generosity; it was his custom to give without making one ask for what one needed.
[ . . . ] We suggested to the judge Ḍiyā’ al-Dīn al-Shahrazūrī that he take us to the pyramids and his face lit up in appreciation. He owned the island of al-Dhahab on the the way to the pyramids, so we crossed over to it and spent the night there in the best of company with all the pleasant things necessary for a party.
The next day, we crossed to Giza and passed by a number of people seated in circles and dressed in mantles like those of our Syrian or Iraqi jurists. When we approached them, they fled the place in a hurry. I thought they were students, but I was told that they were drinkers of ale. I said, “Why are they wrapped in mantles?” I was told, “This is the habit in this country. You cannot expect people to be alike everywhere.”
When we finally got to the pyramids, we were greeted by our slaves, who had preceded us and prepared the tents for us. We circled around the pyramids a few times. The scene left us in utter awe. We were intensely dazzled by the Sphinx, and we were at a loss for words to describe our impressions. We spent the evening in conversation about the monumentality of these pyramids and their builders and how they eclipse everything else in their grandeur.
How I was saved from the Battle of Ramla [p. 128]
On the evening of Friday the third of the month of Jumāda al-’Ūlā [573/1177], Saladin left Cairo with the intention of going on campaign against Gaza, Asqalan, and Ramla. I accompanied the army and it was announced that people should procure provisions for at least ten days. I was feeling uneasy about this campaign and told my servant, “I think I should go back to Cairo. I am a man of the pen, not of the sword, and I have an ominous feeling about this campaign. The road is long, the dangers are many, and the route is all in sandy desert. My beasts cannot endure such an ordeal. This is a task for fighters, not for writers, and everyone should focus on his work without infringing on the other's duties. Besides, all the other scribes and secretaries have requested the sultan's permission to go back.” I informed al-Qāḍī al-Fāḍil of my worries and my desire, but he kept them secret to protect me.
The sultan, though, was willing to let me do what I chose. He asked me, “Are you coming along or would you rather go back?” I said, “The choice is my lord's, whatever you decide for me shall be.” He replied, “You had better go back and pray for us so that God may grant us victory.” I had already written a few verses to the master al-Fāḍil as a joke:
This was the only time I failed to accompany the sultan on his campaigns, and God thus saved me from being present at the defeat [at the Battle of Ramla, November 25, 1177].
I was asked to go on campaign
Tell me, what would my efforts at jihād achieve?I do not feel audacious amidst men of the army,
My bow is not tight enough to loose arrows.
How I avoided wielding the Sword [pp. 155–56]
A group of Frankish Crusaders and their wolfish infidel allies [eastern Christians] had been raiding the environs of the city of Ḥamāh for some time. Prince Nāṣir al-Dīn Mankurus, the governor of the city, attacked them with a hundred of his warriors and defeated them. He captured great numbers of infidels and brought them to the camp of the sultan.
On the morning of the eleventh of the month of Rabī‘ al-Ākhir [574/1178], the sultan was mounted on his horse with all the army around him when Prince Mankurus approached him, came down from his horse, kissed the ground, greeted the sultan, and kissed his right hand after having pressed his forehead to his foot. He had the captives—“who looked drunk without having drunk anything” [Q 22:2]—brought before the sultan who ordered that they be beheaded by men of religion. Al-Ḍiyā’ al-Ṭabarī was the first to execute a captive, followed by Shaykh Sulaymān al-Dīrī al-Maghribī, and then many others. Prince Aqtafan b. Yarūq was present and he also executed an enemy of God.
At this moment I was summoned into the presence of Saladin, and I thought I was needed for something important that could not be carried out by anyone else. Instead, when I presented myself, the sultan asked me to draw my sword and to kill one of the infidels. I told him, “I am a man of the pen and do not compete with swords. I announce victories but do not cause deaths. Please grant me this boy as a slave and let some warrior kill the captive you have designated for me.” The sultan laughed and released me from the task and said, “We will use this boy in exchange for one of the Muslim captives held by the Franks. Instead, we will give you a slave from among the prisoners brought in by the Egyptian fleet.”
I instantly took advantage of the sultan's offer and brought my pen and inkwell and asked the prince ‘Aḍud al-Dīn Murhaf b. Mu’ayyad al-Dawla Usāma b. Munqidh [son of the autobiographer Usāma ibn Munqidh] to write me a decree. He then asked the sultan for his signature on it. Later I drafted a letter to the master al-Fāḍil asking him for what the sultan had granted me. I described the slave I wanted and exaggerated somewhat the qualities I was seeking. Al-Fāḍil sent me a hundred dinars instead of a slave and wrote, “I realized that what you are requesting is impossible to find, and the slaves brought in by the fleet are of inferior quality. The best among them is not worth more than thirty dinars. Therefore, I decided to send you these hundred dinars as compensation. I have taken from the state purse fifty dinars instead of the slave, added to it thirty from the privy purse of al-‘Ādil [Saladin's brother], and twenty from my own.”
My heart was delighted by this turn of events. After my sword had turned against killing, I did not lose anything by my decision not to spill blood. I turned from that deed for fear the company would laugh at me as they had at the others.
A successful debate and how I came to have a residence in Damascus [pp. 286–88]
The sultan decided to distribute turbans and robes to the preachers and Qur’ān-reciters during the month of Ramadan [582/1186]. He spent the first two weeks of the month listening to preachers in the citadel and giving away turbans. When he had done enough, I told him, “We have satisfied the reciters, preachers, and poets. There remain only the jurists to invite for disputations and to reward, for they are the bearers of law and the interpreters of rules.” He replied, “I fear their polemics and the results of their debates, which usually end in quarrels.” I said, “I personally shall guarantee their behavior and shall invite only those known for their patience and good manners.” He said, “You promote them because of your respect for them; if you bring them, do not allow them to indulge in fights.”
So it happened, and the first day of disputation a number of the most famous jurists were present. A brilliant discourse and a beneficial argument took place. Then the sultan asked Burhān al-Dīn Mas‘ūd, the Ḥanafī law professor of the Madrasa al-Nūriyya, to argue a case and deduce the conclusion. He hesitated and was about to refuse for fear of abusive reactions. I told him to begin without fear for he was the most persuasive of the discussants. He said, “If you are going to object, I will acquiesce to your judgment.” I appeased him and assured him of my support. He started his presentation, furnished his argument, and satisfied the questions of all those present.
The sultan next chose me to develop the counterargument. I started by presenting my view and refuting the argument, correcting the mistakes and misinterpretations, providing the evidence, and solving the problem. I pressed Burhān al-Dīn to carry the debate further and he responded well and provided a good argument. The session ended up being very beneficial for all present. The same was repeated the next day, and the day after, until the holidays. The sultan sat through all the sessions and before the Feast he ordered the preparation of robes of honor to be distributed to the jurists. There were more than two hundred jurists, and the sultan offered them all robes and turbans. I accompanied the jurists in my robe of honor when they all entered the hall on the first day of the Feast.
In that year, 582 [1186–87], I also built my house in Damascus across from the citadel. The sultan was usually on the move to check on his dominions, wage war against the enemy, or force the client kings to do his bidding. So when he decided to spend most of this year in Damascus residing in the citadel, I decided to build my house near his residence so that I could attend him whenever he needed me and return home whenever I left him. This house is now my dwelling and my resting place. In it my children reside and in it I compose my poetry and prose.
How I wrote the proclamations of the reconquest of Jerusalem [pp. 305, 313]
I had left the sultan when the army was besieging Beirut because of an illness that could not be cured there and for which I needed to go back to Damascus. When the sultan wanted to write a pledge of safe passage for the besieged, he asked for me, but I asked to be excused from this task because of my illness. The sultan brought all the other scribes and asked each of them to draft the document. He was dissatisfied with all of them and realized my talents and my superiority in composition. An envoy came to me and saw me in pain. He said, “Write this pledge of safe passage, for you are the best of scribes.” I replied, “I do not feel well and I doubt I will be able to comply.” Then I asked that God guide me to write the appropriate text and I did. I left for Damascus afterward and rejoined the sultan after the conquest of Jerusalem.
| • | • | • |
I arrived in Jerusalem on Saturday, the second day after the conquest [October 3, 1187]. The sultan's companions were pressuring him to order letters of proclamation to be carried to all the regions to announce the conquest. The sultan was reluctant to do so and told them, “For this task there is but one person; if only he could join us now that we need his writing talents.” His scribes had gathered together to compose a letter, and were busy drafting it when I arrived. They all greeted me enthusiastically, especially the sultan, who said, “Your arrival today is another proof of the good omen of this conquest. This is your day! Prepare your pens and paper and draft me all the letters of proclamation, for all the provinces and regions are awaiting this great news!” In the course of that day I penned seventy letters, each more intricate and ornate than the last. Then I followed them that night with a number of letters in which I included all the details of the conquest, and I prefaced each with great praise for the conquest and the conqueror.