The Epistle of Forgiveness. Abu l-'Ala al-Ma'arri

a consistent world view in his works. He is a humanist who generally hates humanity and loves animals, a Muslim who expresses many unorthodox thoughts (such as his frequently expressed doubts about a bodily resurrection), a rationalist, a skeptic, and a stoic, a precursor of Arthur Schopenhauer. But above all he is a witty and erudite man of letters, a satirist and moralist, with an incredible command of the Arabic language.

      Among his other works that have been preserved is a treatise on morphology (Risālat al-Malāʾikah); a “prosimetrical” work, Mulqā l-sabīl, in which each section consists of a very short ethical paragraph in prose followed by a versification; a collection of letters in ornate style; and commentaries on the collected poetry by famous Abbasid poets: Abū Tammām, al-Buḥturī, and al-Mutanabbī. Many other works listed in the ancient sources are no longer extant.

Al-Maʿarrī lived at the end of what has been called “the Golden Age” of Arabic literature.²² Whether or not this qualification and this periodization are justified, he firmly belongs to the “classic” Arabic authors. But his reputation has always been mixed throughout the pre-modern period. “People have different opinions about Abū l-ʿAlāʾ,” says Yāqūt, “Some say that he was a heretic (zindīq) . . ., others say that he was a pious ascetic who subsisted on little and who imposed on himself a harsh regimen, being content with little and turning away from worldly matters.”²³ Against the many admirers there are as many detractors. One of the latter, a certain Abū Ghālib ibn Nabhān, apparently had a dream shortly after al-Maʿarrī’s death:

Last night I had a dream in which I saw a blind man with two vipers on his shoulders, dangling down to his thighs. Each of them raised its mouth toward his face, biting off the flesh and devouring it. The man was yelling and crying for help. Shocked and frightened as I was by seeing the man in this state, I asked who he was. “This is al-Maʿarrī, the heretic (mulḥid),” was the reply.²⁴

      With this fancy about the afterlife of a presumed heretic we turn to the present work, al-Maʿarrī’s imaginations about life in heaven and hell, much of which is devoted to heresy. It also has several passages about snakes.

      Risālat Ibn al-Qāriḥ and Risālat al-Ghufrān

Around the year 424/1033 Abū l-ʿAlāʾ received a long and somewhat rambling letter from a grammarian and Hadith scholar from Aleppo, called ʿAlī ibn Manṣūr ibn al-Qāriḥ, also known as Dawkhalah.²⁵ The elderly writer, already in his seventies, obviously tries to ingratiate himself with the famous inhabitant of al-Maʿarrah. He complains at length of his infirmities and indigence, apologizes for his foibles, and attempts to impress the addressee in the customary ornate style, employing rhymed prose (sajʿ) with much display of erudition and orthodoxy, in the course of which he digresses with a discussion of a number of notorious heretics.²⁶ One of the aims of the letter to Abū l-ʿAlāʾ, whom he praises volubly, is to exculpate himself of allegations, which he knows Abū l-ʿAlāʾ has heard about him: he had been accused of ingratitude toward a family that had patronized him, a family some of whose members had close links with al-Maʿarrī. Abū l-Ḥasan al-Maghribī (d. 400/1009–10) was a man of letters who became state secretary, serving under the Ḥamdānids in Aleppo and later under the Fāṭimids in Cairo. He made Ibn al-Qāriḥ the tutor of his children, in particular Abū l-Qāsim (d. 418/1027), who later became vizier. When the family fell into disgrace and several were executed at the orders of the notorious Fāṭimid caliph al-Ḥākim, Abū l-Qāsim was the only prominent member of his kin who escaped. Ibn al-Qāriḥ not only disassociated himself from his former patron but even composed invective poems lampooning him.²⁷ One might expect that in his letter to Abū l-ʿAlāʾ, Ibn al-Qāriḥ would apologize for his vicious attacks on al-Maʿarrī’s friend. Instead, he goes to some length in trying to justify his views, by describing Abū l-Qāsim as a madman, and a very unpleasant one at that.

It is easy to imagine Abū l-ʿAlāʾ being not a little irritated by this rather incoherent and self-righteous appeal and the attacks on a friend. Apparently he took some time before replying, and when he did it was in the form of this strange book known as Risālat al-Ghufrān, The Epistle of Forgiveness. Formally it is a risālah, a letter, but it is longer than many a book, and like many Arabic “epistles” addressed to one person it is obviously meant to be read by many. Abū l-ʿAlāʾ does not openly refute or rebuke his correspondent; he remains as polite and respectful as Ibn al-Qāriḥ. Both epistles are brimful with pious wishes and blessings, parenthetically added whenever the other is addressed or mentioned (in the polite epistolary style of the time, the third person is used instead of direct address, to refer to the recipient). Abū l-ʿAlāʾ’s work opens with sections expressing his affection for Ibn al-Qāriḥ and praise of his letter, and the second part of al-Ghufrān opens with a discussion of hypocrisy, of which Ibn al-Qāriḥ is said to be wholly free. The reader will not be fooled, however: it is clear that all this is ironical. The very difficult preamble of Part One (usually omitted by translators)²⁸ ostensibly expresses al-Maʿarrī’s affection for Ibn al-Qāriḥ, but it is an exercise in double entendre, where words, said to refer to the writer’s “heart,” are closely linked to words for “black” and “snake.” It is an odd way to open a friendly letter, and Bint al-Shāṭiʾ has suggested that al-Maʿarrī, with these snakes and the blackness, obliquely refers to what he really thinks of Ibn al-Qāriḥ’s hypocrisy and malice.²⁹ There is a problem with this interpretation, because al-Maʿarrī is speaking of his own heart in this preamble, not that of Ibn al-Qāriḥ;³⁰ but in any case the ambiguous and punning diction seems to suggest that the fulsome praise is not to be taken at face value: al-Maʿarrī’s epistle is steeped in sardonic irony, even though it is not always clear when he is being ironic.

      When Abū l-ʿAlāʾ extols the qualities of Ibn al-Qāriḥ’s letter, his irony takes a different direction. He imagines that this letter will help the writer to secure God’s favor and forgiveness. Taking the theme of forgiveness as his starting point and as a leitmotiv for his text, he then embarks on a lengthy and extraordinary flight of fancy, which takes all of Part One of his Epistle. He imagines that on the Day of Resurrection, at the end of the world, Ibn al-Qāriḥ is revived like all mortal beings. He is admitted to Paradise, but not without difficulty. He has to cope, even at the Last Day, with what one could call the hardships of bureaucracy: one cannot be admitted without a document stating one’s true repentance of sins. Unfortunately, the Sheikh (as Ibn al-Qāriḥ is often called) has lost this crucial document amidst the hustle and bustle and he must find someone to testify for him. When at last he has taken this hurdle and someone has duly attested that Ibn al-Qāriḥ showed true repentance in the nick of time, he still needs the intercession of the Prophet and the help of the latter’s daughter and son. Having arrived in Paradise, after crossing the narrow Bridging Path in a rather undignified manner, riding piggyback on a helpful girl, he decides to go on an excursion. He meets with poets and grammarians—he is, after all, himself a grammarian with a great knowledge of poetry—and asks them how they have been able to attain eternal bliss. Some poets died before the coming of Islam; others composed verses of a dubious, irreligious nature, and one may wonder why they have been forgiven. The conversations are often about points of morphology, syntax, lexicography, and matters of versification, such as irregularities of meter and rhyme; in general, the Sheikh’s interest is keener than that of the poets themselves, many of whom have forgotten, on account of the terrors of the Last Day, what they produced in the “Fleeting World.”

      The blessings and pleasures of Paradise are also described: the quality of the wine, at last permitted, and hangover-free; the food (a banquet is depicted), and the heavenly singing of beautiful damsels. Ibn al-Qāriḥ meets some ravishing girls who tell him that they were ugly but pious on earth and have been rewarded. Not all paradisial females had a worldly pre-existence: other black-eyed beauties emerge from fruits that can be plucked from a tree; Ibn al-Qāriḥ acquires his personal houri in this manner. Before settling with her he leaves for another excursion. He visits the part of Heaven reserved for the jinn or demons (for some of them are believing Muslims). There he meets the extraordinary demon called Abū Hadrash, who boasts in long poems of his devious exploits, but who has