OF FIDELITY
AMONG the laudable instincts, noble characteristics and virtuous habits by which men may be adorned, whether they are engaged in lovemaking or any other activity, Fidelity ranks high. It is one of the strongest proofs and clearest demonstrations of sound stock and pure breed; it differs in degree of excellence according to that variability which is inherent in all created beings. I have a short poem on this subject from which I will quote two separate stanzas: here is the first.
What element within him lies
The visual evidence is true
Thou needst not seek another clue.
And this is the second.
E'er yielded raisins for its fruit,
Or do the bees so bravely strive
To treasure aloes in their hive?
The first degree of fidelity is for a man to be faithful to one who is faithful to him. This indeed is an absolute duty, an obligation binding upon lover and beloved alike: no man deviates from it, unless he be of mean extraction and devoid of every grace and virtue. Were it not for the fact that it was not my intention in this essay to discourse upon the human character in general, and the inborn and acquired qualities of man, how the innate characteristics may be increased by cultivation, and the acquired attributes disappear for want of natural aptitude, I would have added here the observations necessary to be set down upon such a subject. But it was only my purpose to speak upon this matter of Love, as you expressly desired of me; to develop the matter in its extremely manifold aspects would have taken an extremely long time indeed.
The most frightful instance of this order of fidelity that I have ever witnessed, and the most terrible in its consequences, concerns a drama which I actually saw enacted before my own eyes. A certain man of my acquaintance consented to break off relations with a person whom he loved dearly and cherished more fondly than anyone else in the world, so that he would have preferred to die rather than be parted from him a single-hour. He agreed to this appalling deprivation in order to guard a secret which had been entrusted to him. His loved one had sworn a solemn oath never to speak to him again, and to have no further commerce with him, unless he divulged that secret to him. Although the person who had committed the secret to his charge was far away, yet the lover refused to betray his trust; he continued to conceal the secret, and his loved one persisted in holding aloof from him, until time parted them forever.
The second degree of fidelity is for a man to be faithful towards one who has betrayed him. This trait appertains to the lover alone, and not to the beloved. The latter has no way here, neither is he under any such obligation; for fidelity is a course of action which can only be attempted by men who are tough, strong, broad shouldered, magnanimous, of great forbearance and infinite patience, firm in judgment, of noble character and pure intentions. The man who rewards treachery with treachery by no means deserves blame; but the conduct which we have adumbrated excels this latter procedure exceeding, and surpasses it by far. In this case the object of fidelity is to refrain from paying back injury with injury, and to abstain from matching evil against evil whether in deeds or words; to delay the fatal step of severing the cords of friendship as long as possible, while hope still remains that intimacy may be resumed and the smallest expectation may yet be cherished that relations can be restored, while the least sign of a resumption is still visible, the faintest glimmer thereof may be perceived, and its slightest symptom diagnosed. Once despair however has gripped your heart, and resentment dominates your emotions, then you should strive your utmost to ensure that the perfidious friend may for all that be safe from your petty fury, secure from your malice, delivered from the danger of your mischief; let the recollection of what is gone before prevent you from giving vent to your wrath over what has now transpired. To be faithful to old obligations is the assured duty of all intelligent men; and to yearn affectionately for the past, and not to forget the times that are finished and done with, is the surest proof of true fidelity. This is a fine quality indeed, and one which ought to be employed in all human transactions, of whatever kind and in whatever circumstances.
I call to mind a man I once knew, one of my dearest friends, who formed an attachment for a young slave girl. Their love waxed very strong; then she betrayed his trust, and broke the bonds of their affection. The story was noised widely abroad, and he suffered the most acute distress in consequence. I once had a friend whose intentions towards me became ignoble, after we had been united in a firm affection the like of which ought not to be gainsaid. This he allowed to happen, despite the fact that each of us knew all the other's secrets, and all formalities had been dropped between us. When his feelings towards me changed, he divulged all that he had got to know about me, though I knew many times as much to his disadvantage. Then he learned that I had become aware of what he had said concerning me; he was much disturbed, and feared that I would requite him in kind for his base conduct. Hearing of this, I wrote some verses to him to comfort him, assuring him that I did not intend to take reprisals against him.
Here is another reminiscence which belongs to the same category, although in truth neither this nor the preceding paragraph is strictly relevant to the essay and the chapter now being written; all the same it is roughly parallel, in accordance with the general conditions of the discourse which I have laid down. Muhammad Ibn Walid Ibn Maksir the Civil Secretary was on friendly and indeed devoted terms with me during the viziership of my late father; but when those events took place in Cordova which do not need to be further specified, and circumstances changed, he removed to another district. There he became connected with the local ruler, and attained in due course to a position of affluence, importance and agreeable distinction. I happened to stay in that district on one of my travels, but my friend of other days did not do his duty by me; my presence was unwelcome to him, and he treated me very evilly. During that time I requested him to do me a certain service, but he did not stir a finger to help me, pretending to be otherwise occupied, although the matter on which he claimed to be engaged was nothing urgent at all. I wrote him a poem of reproach, and he replied endeavoring to appease me; but for all that I did not trouble him with any further request. On this topic, though still outside the scope of the present chapter and yet cognate with it, I wrote some verses from which I will now quote.
Is no great merit, truth to tell,
But rather to conceal a thing
Which other men are whispering.
So generosity is best
And noblest, when the thing possessed
Is rare, and he who makes the gift
Is famous for his stingy thrift.
The third order of` fidelity is when a man is faithful for all that he has despaired completely and finally, death having intervened and sudden decease having unexpectedly removed all hope of further relations. Fidelity under these circumstances is even nobler and finer than during the lifetime of the beloved, when there is still the expectation of another meeting.
A woman in whom I have every confidence once told me that she had seen, in the house of Muhammad Ibn Ahmad Ibn Wahb, better known as Ibn al-Rakiza, a descendant of Badr who entered Andalusia with the Imam `Abd al-Rahman Ibn Mu'awiya (God be well satisfied with him!), a slave-girl of striking beauty. She had had a master who had died, and was sold with his estate; but she refused to have anything to do with men after him, and no man enjoyed her charms until she met Allah the Omnipotent. She had been a fine singer, but denied all knowledge of the art and was content to be an ordinary servant, and to be excluded from those ladies who are taken for procreation, pleasure and a life of comfort. This she did out of fidelity to the departed, long since committed to earth and with the tombstones cemented above him. Her afore-mentioned lord desired to take her to his bed, along with the rest of his concubines, and to bring her out of her position of menial servitude, but she refused. He beat her more than once, and administered corporal correction; but she bore it all with fortitude, persisting in her honourable refusal. This is an extremely rare instance of fidelity.
You must know that the duty of fidelity is incumbent upon the lover more than upon the beloved, and applies to him far more strictly. This is because it is the lover who initiated the attachment, and is the one who proposes the formation of the engagement; he seeks to confirm the bond of affection, and petitions for true intimacy. He is the first to stake his claim to preferment, and takes the lead in seeking for enjoyment by striving to acquire the friendship. He it is who fetters himself with the reins of love, binding his soul with the stoutest shackles and bridling it with the strongest muzzle. Who was there to compel him to do all this if he did not wish to complete his part of the bargain, or to oblige him to attract so fond affection if he had not the intention to seal it with fidelity to the one whose love he desired? The beloved, on the other hand, is a person to whom the lover feels drawn and whose affection he seeks; she is free to accept or reject his advances. If she accepts, then that is the fulfillment of all the lover's hopes; if she refuses, she deserves not to be blamed on that account. To propose union, to persist in one's suit, to dispose oneself for anything that may attract the beloved's sympathy, such as readiness to fall in with all her wishes, and a willingness to make all things clear and straight between himself and her, whether present or absent-all this has nothing to do with fidelity. In seeking her hand it is his own pleasure that he is pursuing, his own happiness he is laboring for; love calls and drives him to this, W ether he will or no. Fidelity is only praiseworthy when a man is in a position to be unfaithful. Fidelity imposes certain conditions upon the lover. The first is that he should keep his troth with the beloved, and protect her secrets; her public and private transactions should be alike sacred to him; he should conceal her evil aspects, advertise her good points, cover up her faults, put her actions in the best light, and overlook her slips; he should acquiesce in whatever the beloved imposes upon him, and for his part not thrust himself upon her so immoderately as to provoke her aversion; when she is eager he should not be languid, neither in her weariness should he be impetuous. The beloved for her part is bound by the same rules, if she fully reciprocates his affection; but if her love is less than his, he must not press her to come up to his level, nor be cross with her in an endeavour to induce her by these means to love him with the same degree of intensity. In that case it is enough for him to keep their relations secret, and not to requite her with unpleasantness or threats. If a third situation should exist, namely- that she has no corresponding feelings for him whatsoever, let him be content with what he finds, and take whatever he can readily get; let him not demand any conditions, or be importunate for any rights. He can only expect what windfalls his luck may bring, or what fruits his labours may ripen.
You must know that uncomely acts never appear as such to those who perform them, and therefore their repulsiveness is doubly disgusting to others innocent of them. I do not say what I am about to say in order to boast, but simply relying upon the precept of Allah the Omnipotent, Who says, "And as for the bounty of thy Lord, proclaim it abroad" (Koran XCIII II). Now Allah has vouchsafed to me the blessing of fidelity towards every man with whom I have had any connection, even if it be only in a single meeting; He has bestowed on me the gift of protecting any man with whom I have ever entered into an engagement, be it in the conversation of but a solitary hour. For this great boon I thank God and praise Him, petitioning Him to continue and augment His beneficence towards me. There is nothing that I loathe more than treachery. By my life, I have never allowed myself to meditate harming any person with whom I have had the slightest engagement, however great may be his crimes, and however numerous his sins against me. I have suffered not a few grievous blows in this way, but I have ever repaid evil with good: Allah be praised for that!
I take pride in my fidelity in a long poem, in which I have mentioned the calamities which have stricken me, and the sufferings I have had to endure in a life of constant alighting and departing, as I shifted my tent from one encampment to another throughout all the lands. This poem opens as follows:
By all my noble fortitude
The tears o'erflowing from his eyes
Betrayed what in his bosom lies.
A weary body, and a heart
Affectionate; which, when to part
Irrevocably doomed, was full
Of sorrow inexpressible.
No home thereafter he possessed,
And in no country found he rest;
The couch whereon he nightly lay
Was warmed not, ere he was away.
Methinks his spirit wears for shroud
The fleecy tissue of a cloud,
By some erratic wind of heaven
To new horizons ever driven.
Or he is like the credo brief
Of unitarian belief
Which infidels so much detest,
They spew it from their miscreant breast.
Of else he is an errant star
Migrating through the heavens far,
Now setting in the west extreme,
Now rising with an orient beam.
Did she reward him (I suppose)
Or lend him succour in his woes,
The flooding tears that she would shed
Should follow him wher'er he fled.
I pride myself on my fidelity in another long ballad, which I have reproduced here, although the most of it is not relevant to the subject of this essay. The reason for my composing these verses was that certain of my antagonists, being choked in intellectual debate with me, cast foul reproaches in my face, and accused me of espousing the cause of untruth; this they did because they were unable to refute my arguments in defence of truth and its champions, and were jealous of my debating prowess. So I invented this spirited poem, and addressed it to an intelligent friend. I will quote a few selections.
And bring them, one and all, by God!
Be every one a snake, among
The lote-trees flicking his forked tongue.
Again:
Their wondrous lies they bravely shout
When they perceive me not about
The lion is a cowering thing
Aye, but he bides his time to spring!
Again:
The wildest hopes they entertain
For what they surely will not gain ;
Their master, think the Rafidis,
Can do impossibilities.
Again:
If my resolve and self-control
Inhabited each timorous soul,
The eyes of beauties languishing
Would little influence on them bring
Scorning, as verbs intransitive,
In mean dependency to live,
Like prepositions, that refuse
Their verbs to govern as they choose.
Again:
My judgment pioneers its way
Through all things hidden from the day,
As pulsing arteries do all
Traverse the body physical
Detecting with a simple glance
The labyrinthine track of ants,
While it is hidden from their sight
Where elephants do crouch at night!
OF BETRAYAL
As Fidelity is a most lofty attribute and a truly noble quality, so Betrayal is base and detestable in the extreme. The term is only to be applied to those who take the initiative in treachery; to repay betrayal with like betrayal, though it be equal as regards the action itself, is not true treachery, and the man who so acts is not deserving of blame, for Allah Himself says, "And the recompense of an evil act is an evil act like unto it" (Koran XLII 38). Now we know of course that the second act is not evil; it is only because it appears to be of the same order as the first that the name " evil " is given to it. This shall be expounded at length in the chapter on Forgetting, if Allah wills.
Because betrayal is so common a characteristic of the beloved, fidelity' on her part has come to be regarded as extraordinary; therefore its rare occurrence in persons loved is thought to counterbalance its frequency among lovers. I have a little poem on this subject.
Is most exceedingly approved,
While lovers' great fidelity
Is taken unremarkably.
So cowards, rarely brave in war,
Are more applauded when they are
Than heroes, who sustain all day
The heat and' fury of the fray.
A particularly base type of betrayal is when the lover sends an emissary to the beloved, entrusting all his secrets to his keeping, and then the messenger strives and contrives to convert the beloved's interest to himself, and captures her affection to the exclusion of his principal. I put this situation in rhyme as follows.
Intending so my hopes to gain;
I trusted him too foolishly;
Now he has come between us twain.
He loosed the cords of my true love,
Then neatly tied his own instead;
He drove me out of all whereof
I might have well been tenanted.
I, who had called him to the stand,
Am now a witness to his case
I fed him at my table, and
Now hang myself upon his grace.
The cadi Yunus Ibn `Abd Allah told me once the following story. " I remember in my youth a certain slave-girl belonging to one of the great houses, who was passionately loved by a young man of high culture and princely blood. She reciprocated his feelings, and the two corresponded together, their messenger and postman being one of his companions of a like age, who had ready access to her. In due course the girl was offered for sale, and her royal lover desired to purchase her; but he was beaten to the bargain by the youth who had been his envoy. One day he entered her apartment, and found her opening a casket belonging to her, and searching for some personal effect. He came up and began turning out the box with her; and a letter fell out which was written in the hand of the youth who had been in love with her, all daubed with ambergris and treasured with tender care. He cried angrily, " Where did this come from, strumpet? " " You yourself conveyed it to me ", she answered. " Perhaps this has arrived newly, since that time ", he said. " Oh no ", she replied. " It is one of those old letters, which you know all about." The cadi concluded: " It was just as though she had popped a stone in his mouth. He was utterly confounded, and could not utter another word.
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