"The Ripening
Years"
Ishbiliah of the poet-king al-Mutamid*
by Tor Eigeland
Although its history includes times of turmoil and upheaval, as well
as periods of glory, Seville was the most important kingdom and city
of Spain from the fall of the Cordoban Caliphate until it was
conquered by Ferdinand III in 1248.
Seville's history got off to a bad start--under its first
independent ruler, the cunning, cruel al-Mutadid, who took control
of the taifa or little kingdom, and extended it during his reign
from 1042 to 1069. But fortunately, he was succeeded by a son, al-Mutamid,
a gifted statesman, intellectual and poet. Under the poet-king al-Mutamid,
Seville achieved a brief respite from struggle and some moments of
beauty that have passed into legend.
Before al-Mutamid became king he met Ibn Ammar, an itinerant and
brilliant poet, forged a friendship with him and, when he gained the
throne, made him vizier of the kingdom. Together one evening, al-Mutamid
and Ibn Ammar were strolling along the banks of the Guadalquivir,
bantering and improvising poetry. Al-Mutamid started off with a
line--"The wind scuffs the river and makes it chain mail . .
."--which Ibn Ammar was supposed to complete. For once, however, Ibn
Ammar was at a loss for words to end the couplet and a slave girl
nearby overheard them and completed the rhyme: "Chain mail for
fighting could water avail."
The girl was al-Rumaikiyya, a lovely and charming mule- skinner.
(For some reason mule drivers often seem to be romantically
associated with poetry in Spain.) Al-Mutamid instantly fell in love
with her, later married her and, eventually, when war again engulfed
the taifa, romantically sailed with her into exile.
Another charming story is told about them. They were standing side
by side one morning looking at a very rare sight in Andalusia: the
plains were covered with snow. Al-Rumaikiyya sighed and told al-Mutamid
how much she hoped to see this lovely scene another time. To please
her, al-Mutamid had the plains planted with almond trees and to this
day, seen from a distance, parts of Andalusia in early spring look
snow-covered because of the groves of white blossoms.
Such idyllic interludes, however, were short-lived in al-Andalus.
There was constant intrigue in the court, intermittent feuding among
the various Moorish taifas and a growing menace from the Christian
kingdoms in the north: Castile, Leon and Galicia.
Although Castile, Leon and Galicia--united under Ferdinand I in
1037--had broken apart again after Ferdinand's death, Castile and
Leon were temporarily reunited under Alfonso VI and Christian
raiders were reaching farther and farther south. At last they
reached Tarifa--where the first Muslim raiders had come ashore more
than three centuries before. In 1085, the Christians retook Toledo,
a key Muslim city in the heart of Spain. The road was now open to
the underbelly of al-Andalus.
The taifa kings of Spain suddenly realized that they were in serious
trouble. Because of their quarrels they had waited too long to join
forces against the Christians. Now it couldn't be done without
outside help and the kings knew that asking for help in the one
quarter in which it was available was like choosing between the
devil and the deep blue sea.
In North Africa some Berber tribes, the Almoravids (in Arabic al-Murabitun,
Those Who Live in Religious Retreats) had recently embraced Islam.
They were undoubtedly strong, and certainly eager to defend the
faith in a new holy war, but they also, al-Mutamid thought, might
pose more of a threat to Seville than the Christians. In the end, of
course, he knew that he could only make one decision, and he
eventually made it. As he wrote, "I do not want a curse to be
leveled against me in all the mosques of Islam, and faced with the
choice, I would rather drive the camels of the Almoravids than be a
swineherd among Christians."
In 1086, therefore, the Almoravids, led by Yusuf ibn Tashafin,
crossed the Strait of Gibraltar. Marching on Toledo, they
encountered the Christians at Sagrajas, near Badajoz, and defeated
them soundly. The Christians fell back, but due to problems at home
the Berber army failed to exploit its victory. It returned to North
Africa and, as so often in the history of Spain, the campaign ended
inconclusively.
Al-Mutamid's fears, however, were not groundless. Within four years
the Christians were again on the march and the Almoravids again
crossed the Strait of Gibraltar. This time, however, Yusuf ibn
Tashafin came not to help the Moors of Spain, but to add to his own
North African empire. In quick succession he seized the kingdoms of
Granada, Cordoba and Seville.
For a few years the Almoravids were held in check by a great Spanish
warrior who fought fiercely all over the country, inspiring
countless poets and writers with his exploits. He was Rodrigo Diaz
de Bivar--better known as El Cid, a name derived from the Arabic
sayyed, originally "lord." El Cid was actually a free lance who
fought for both Christian and Muslim rulers. But his basic loyalty
was to King Alfonso VI--though Alfonso did nothing to deserve
it--and when the Almoravids came the second time it was El Cid who
stemmed the Berber tide, winning battle after brilliant battle for
the Christians and earning the title Campeador, or Champion. But
when El Cid died in 1099, the Almoravids swept over all of southern
Spain and present-day Portugal.
In Seville, meanwhile, the poet-king al-Mutamid had fallen on bitter
times. His great friend and fellow-poet Ibn Ammar had ambitiously
attempted to establish himself as an independent ruler of the
kingdoms of Murcia and Valencia. After his treasonous plans failed,
Ibn Ammar and al-Mutamid were reconciled briefly. But again Ibn
Ammar enraged al-Mutamid and the king went at him with a flashing
axe. Ibn Ammar fell to his knees and begged for mercy, but al-Mutamid's
patience had run out.
But so had his luck. Taken captive by the Almoravids, the poet-king
al-Mutamid and his love al-Rumaikiyya were sent into exile and
poverty in North Africa, an event described by poet Ibn al-Labbana:
Never will I forget that morning by the Guadalquivir
When they were thrown into ships like corpses into graves.
Along both banks the people crowded
To see those pearls cast into the foam of the river.
Maidens had no wish to cover themselves, they dropped their veils.
Clothes were rent and faces torn with anguish. The moment came--what
a tumult of farewells, Maidens and young men outdoing one another in
lamentation! The ships gathered way, the sobbing mounted, Like the
driver urging forward his slow caravan.
How many broken hearts those merciless galleys took! To the
newly-converted, zealous Almoravids, the poet al-Mutamid and other
Moorish kings of al-Andalus seemed decadent and slack in their
faith. Perhaps they were. But lush Andalusia was seductive, and it
was not long before the kind climate, the easy living and the
refinements of life softened the crusading fervor of the Almoravids
too. Gradually Almoravid rule began to crumble in as great a
confusion of rebellions and intrigue as that of the taifa kings
before.
In North Africa, in the meantime, the Almoravids' homeland had been
taken over by an even more zealous Berber group from the Atlas
mountains. These were the Almohads ("Asserters of the Unity of
God"), whose founder, Ibn Tumart, was a sophisticated theologian who
had studied in Baghdad, Mecca, Alexandria and Cordoba. And as
earlier factions had invited the Almoravids to Spain, now new
factions invited the Almohads to come and protect al-Andalus from
the ever-present Christian threat.
Again, North Africans swept into Spain. Again, al-Andalus was
unified and the Christians were pushed back. But except for the tiny
Kingdom of Granada, which miraculously endured three centuries after
their fall, the Almohads were to be the last Muslim rulers of Spain.
The final years were a period of confusion, corruption and violence.
Yet, paradoxically, even as military and political affairs went
badly, the economic and cultural life of the Moors reached new
heights. In Seville trading ships came up the Guadalquivir from the
Atlantic Ocean and ferryboats hustled back and forth across the
river. In the shade of the Great Mosque, several Christian churches
raised their spires. Through open doorways along the streets
craftsmen of every imaginable kind could be seen at work, and in the
market areas hawkers, beggars, veiled women and tradesmen shouted
and whispered over bread, meats, fish, olive oil, melons, figs,
oranges, grapes, spices and herbs piled in the stalls. It was a city
of smells, ranging from orange blossoms and myrtle to more earthy
odors.
Cultural, intellectual and scientific life also flourished as the
towering intellects of al-Andalus soared into new realms of thought
and experiment in theology, philosophy, mysticism, medicine,
astronomy and geography. It was not uncommon for one man to make
great strides in several fields, and there were many such men: al-Idrisi,
who wrote the most accurate and detailed account of the world
available to man at his time, as well as impressive works on botany
and medical remedies; and Ibn Rushd, or Averroes as he is known in
the West, a distinguished Aristotelian philosopher, whose writings
later helped spark a scholastic revival in the rest of Europe and
who, in addition, wrote a seven-book medical encyclopedia. Among his
insights in medicine: no one is taken ill twice with smallpox.
Another of the period's outstanding intellectuals was Ibn Tufail, a
writer, physician and astronomer from Guadix near Granada. His
allegorical tale, "Hayy ibn Yaqsan, The Living One, Son of the
Vigilant," anticipated the literature of the Age of Reason and it is
said that the 1708 English translation of this book, titled "The
Improvement of Human Reason", influenced Rousseau and Voltaire, and
possibly Kipling and Daniel Defoe too. The tale, about a boy brought
up by a gazelle and isolated from human beings, raised the
philosophical question of whether the child by his own reasoning and
intuition would find truth and God. The answer in the tale: he
would."
Out of the confused last days of Seville also came the mystical and
inward-looking Sufis, whose purist thought dominated the last of the
Almohad period. Although Sufism had numerous adherents, many
fundamentalists in Islam objected. As Jan Read says in his excellent
book, "The Moors in Spain and Portugal," Sufism, "directed as it
was, inwards and to the individual . . . did nothing to restore the
spirit of the jihad. The holy war now became the prerogative of the
Christians, and in the hands of the Crusaders and the Inquisition it
was to prove a weapon as blunt and brutal as it was essentially
irreligious."
The decline in the spirit of the jihad among the Almohads, plus
their preoccupation with affairs back in North Africa, promoted
still another series of taifa secessions, and still more
intra-Muslim strife just as, in the Christian north, King Alfonso
VIII of Castile and the Archbishop of Toledo were working to
reconcile their kingdoms. Their efforts were successful and in 1212
the united forces of Castile, Leon, Navarre and Aragon at Las Navas
de Tolosa delivered Andalusia's death blow. As the taifa kings even
then continued fighting among themselves, their final downfall was
not long in coming.
In 1236 Cordoba fell-- and its Great Mosque was converted into a
cathedral. In 1238 the Balearic Islands were conquered. In 1246 Jaen
fell and in 1248 Seville was occupied, with the help of Muslim
forces from the taifa Kingdom of Granada, where the final--and some
believe the finest--chapters of Islam in al-Andalus would be
written.
*Aramco World Magazine (Sep-Oct 1976) |
