Masters of Song among the Arabs: Ibrahim al-Mawsili

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Ibrahim and Iblis:

Ibrahim al-Mawsili has his tales with the devils, it would seem. One day, when Ibrahim was withdrawn from people in his house, his slave girls about him, coming and going before him, there entered upon him an old man of fine bearing and beauty, wearing two short boots and two soft shirts, on his head a close-fitting cap, in his hand a staff knobbed with silver, and the scents of musk wafting from him until they filled house and courtyard. He sat down before Ibrahim and asked him to sing, and Ibrahim could not refuse him any request, despite his intense vexation at the man's impudence and boldness toward him. Nor was our venerable sheikh content with hearing our singer: he compelled him to hear his own singing, and the old man sang him these verses:

I have an ulcered liver — who will sell me,
in exchange for it, a liver without ulcers?
People refuse me — they will not buy it:
and who would buy a sick thing with a sound one?
I moan, from the longing within my sides,
the moan of one choking on his drink, wounded.

No sooner had he finished his song than Ibrahim said:

By God, I thought the walls and the doors and everything in the house was answering him and singing with him, so beautiful was his singing — until I fancied, by God, that I myself, my very bones and my clothes, were answering him; and I remained dumbfounded, unable to speak or answer or move, for what had seized my heart. Then he sang:

O doves of al-Liwa, return once more,
for I sorrow for the sound of your voices.
They returned, and when they returned they all but bewitched me,
and I all but laid bare my secrets to them.
They called, cooing over and over, as though
they had been given strong wine to drink, or were mad.
Never has my eye seen doves like them:
they wept, yet no tears wet their eyes.

All the while Ibrahim stood bewildered, agape:

O east wind of Najd, when did you stir from Najd?
Your night journey has heaped longing upon my longing.
Was it because a ring-dove called in the glow of forenoon,
on a branch of tender growth, of the rand tree,
that I wept as the sorrowing weep for passion,
and melted with harrowing longing and strain?
They have claimed that the lover, drawing near,
grows weary, and that distance cures the longing:
with both have we treated what ails us, and it remains —
yet nearness of the beloved's abode is better than distance!

Then the singer vanished suddenly — and Ibrahim leapt for his sword, drew it, and ran to the doors to inspect them; he found them locked, and marveled at how this old man had come in upon him, and questioned the doorkeeper closely, but got no answer to satisfy his curiosity. And while he was in that state, a voice called to him from the corners of the house: "No harm shall come to you, Abu Ishaq. I am Iblis, and I was your companion and boon-fellow today — do not be alarmed..."

Al-Rashid learned of the affair — and found himself wishing that Iblis had favored him with his company for a single day, as he had favored Abu Ishaq!

Singers of genius:

Ibrahim told of his teacher in the art of song, saying: The first from whom I learned singing was a madman. Whenever anyone shouted at him, "O Mudar!" he would fly into a frenzy and throw stones. Ibrahim would use guile with him, bringing him into his house, feeding him and giving him drink and beguiling him until he took from him what he wished.

Ibrahim was the first to sing for al-Rashid verses of his own after he assumed the caliphate; for this the caliph honored and esteemed him, and yearned for him and for his visits — so much so that once he rose from his sleep and went out muffled, making for al-Mawsili's house, with a retinue of four hundred white servants, not counting the footmen. Al-Mawsili was alarmed when he saw him and cried: O Commander of the Faithful, do you appear at such an hour as this? He said: Yes — a longing for you drove me to you. And he sat at the end of the iwan; delicious foods and fine drinks were spread, and the beautiful slave girls and maids were brought in, playing two by two and singing one by one; and al-Rashid paid no heed to what he heard, until one of the young girls sang:

O striker of the fire-stick whose flints have failed,
take a light, if you will, from my heart with a brand.
How ugly people are in my eyes, and how graceless,
when I look and do not see you among them.

Al-Rashid was transported by her singing, and had the air repeated again and again, and drank ratls upon ratls; then he asked the girl who had made the air, and she held her tongue; he beckoned her nearer and she hung back; then he ordered her brought until she stood before him, and she told him something in secret — whereupon his sitting was spoiled for him, and the hidden fires of jealousy stirred in his heart, for the maker of the air was none other than his sister Ulayya, daughter of al-Mahdi, and the girl was her slave, whom she had sent to Ibrahim to exchange songs with him. Al-Rashid was jealous and departed, after turning to Ibrahim and saying: What harm does it do you that you are not a caliph?

And is he indeed in any station lower than the caliph's? Does not the caliph — with the troop of singers and pipers about him, Zalzal and Barsuma — forget the majesty and gravity of the caliphate when Zalzal strikes the strings and Barsuma pipes and Ibrahim sings:

My heart has sobered, my reason has come back to me;
my folly has ceased, and I have forgotten my ignorance.
I saw the fair ones — and they were mere images
to me; they broke with me and severed my rope.

Then al-Rashid springs to his feet and cries: O Adam, if you could see those of your children who attend me today, it would rejoice you! Then he says: I take refuge in God! I take refuge in God!!

Ibrahim has many tales, all of them beautiful and delightful, showing our singer's lightness of spirit, his poetic gift, and his wantonness — and giving us, if they are true, a broad idea of the milieu in which this singer lived, and especially of social life in the second Abbasid age.

Ibrahim and Dhat al-Khal

Al-Mawsili had a beloved whom he adored, and he would wear away his nights composing verses for her and carrying them to her as sweet melodies on the strings of his lute. This beloved of his was Dhat al-Khal — or Khunth — whom he immortalized with his poetry and made famous by it, so that al-Rashid bought her for seventy thousand dirhams; but when he learned that there had been something between her and Ibrahim — indeed, things — he took a loathing to her and gave her away to Hamawayh the attendant. So Ibrahim said:

Do you suppose Dhat al-Khal hopes for a Lord,
when she has stolen a heart that wanders mad with love of her?
And what is her excuse? My soul be her ransom! — she has left
no flesh upon my bones, nor left me any wits.

And he sang her praises to the point of excess:

O Dhat al-Khal, you have banished
a lover ardent for you;
never in my life shall I forget it,
though fate never again give me a master.

And he said:

O Dhat al-Khal, long has the ache
lingered in him it made sick,
and from what he suffers he has
no refuge in any but you.
Does not Islam restrain you
from killing me — nor piety?
And still I keep for you
a passion that deceptions keep kindling.

And he said, complaining of the hardness of her heart:

God reward well the one with whose love I was smitten,
though there is in him only the counterfeit of my love.
They said: the hearts of lovers are tender —
why then is Dhat al-Khal's heart so hard?
And they said to her: this lover of yours is turned away.
She said: I find his turning away the lightest of matters.

It takes no more than one glance with a smile — and his legs give way and he falls on his side!!

And he claims he has gone mad with love of her:

And who will pity a madman,
by Dhat al-Khal bewitched?
He persists in her and finds no solace,
while all people find solace.
Sickness has laid him waste,
and he has gone mad;
and if he continues so,
he will lie buried in the tomb.

And Dhat al-Khal became his world and his religion:

Did you learn today, O Asim — O best of intimates —
that Dhat al-Khal comes to me — despite a rival?
Do not blame me: Dhat al-Khal — is my world and my religion!!
For within me, from love of Dhat al-Khal,
is something like madness!!

And this thing that is like madness is surely greater than madness!!

Ibrahim's wealth and his pride of soul

Tales are told of Ibrahim's wealth, his open-handedness, and his greatness of soul. Were not wonderful, rare gifts presented to him — among them golden statuettes with gleaming ruby eyes — which he would distribute among his slave girls, his brethren, and his pages?

And why should he not? The price of the slave girls he sold reached four hundred and twenty thousand thousand dirhams — that is, eight hundred thousand francs and sixteen thousand francs. This apart from his running stipends, ten thousand dirhams every month; apart from the yields of his estates; and apart from the trifling gifts, which he never bothered to keep...

Food stood ready in his house at every hour. Every day he had three sheep: one cut up in the pot, another skinned and hung, and a third alive, awaiting its turn. If people came to him, they ate what was in the pot; when it was emptied, the hung sheep was cut up and the pots were set, and the live one was slaughtered and hung, and another was brought and placed, alive, in the kitchen.

His allowance for his food, his perfume, and whatever was prepared for him came to thirty thousand dirhams every month, apart from his running income and apart from his clothing.

And he died with no more than three thousand dinars in his possession, and seven hundred dinars of debt upon him!! Glory be to Him who, knowing how to give, knows how to take!!..