1.3.15
In short, the Fāriyāq fell in love with his neighbor because he was new to the game, and she welcomed his love and gave him hope of success because she was a neighbor and because the prestige that he derived from being with his father disposed people well toward him. His stay did not last long, however, and he was compelled to return with his father. He had fallen very much in love with the girl and, when the time for separation came, he wept and mourned and heaved mighty sighs, and passion prompted him to compose a poem to express his love, one of whose verses went
I part from her against my will and
Leave, I swear, my soul with her
— which is much like the poetry of the rest of the poets of his day, who would swear mighty oaths that they had given up food and drink out of yearning and passion, had spent long nights awake out of love and longing, were dead men, and had died and been put in their shrouds and embalmed and buried, while at the same time indulging themselves in any sport that might be going. When his father took a look at these valedictory verses, he reproached him and forbade him to write poetry anymore, though this seems to have made it the more attractive to him, for it is, generally speaking, in the nature of sons to do the opposite of what their fathers want. Then he left that village sad, forlorn, bewitched, lovelorn.
(1) Metropolitan Jirmānūs Farḥāt is misguided in his statement in his Bāb al-Iʿrāb (Gateway to Grammar) that “taʾmūr means ‘container’ and ‘soul’ and ‘heart’ and ‘the monk’s cell’ and ‘the monastic rule’ (qānūn al-rāhib).” The wording of the original [from which Farḥāt took this, sc. the Qāmūs] is “and the monk’s cell and his hide (ṣawmʿat al-rāhib wa-nāmūsuhu)” and Farḥāt was deluded enough to imagine that nāmūs here means “rule” or “path” as is the common usage among Christians. In fact, the author of the Qāmūs intends the original meaning, which is “[a hunter’s] hide.” The common people say nāwūs [when they mean nāmūs], and this widespread sense in which they use the word is either a figurative extension of the meaning “one who holds a secret” [a further meaning listed in the Qāmūs] or an Arabization of the Greek [naos (“temple”)].
CHAPTER 4: TROUBLES AND A TAMBOUR
1.4.1
The Fāriyāq’s father was involved in matters as difficult in point of extrication as they were uncertain in terms of outcome and implication, given their ability to set people at one another’s throats and the bad feeling between ruler and ruled that this promotes. He had a close relationship with a faction of Druze shaykhs famous for their doughtiness, valor, and generosity, whose hands, money pouches, coffers, cupboards, waist-bands,142 and houses were, however, empty. It is no secret that the world, being round in shape, favors none unless they lure it with something equally round, namely the golden dinar, without which nothing happens. To serve it, sword and pen stand to arms, while knowledge and beauty throng to service its demands. Anyone endowed with an ample physique or excellent qualities will find that tallness and talent benefit him nothing without the dinar, which, despite its small size, can bend any large and weighty ambition or care of the soul to its will. Round, well-minted faces thus submit to it when e’er it appears, tall figures are drawn to it no matter where it wanders, shining brows bend o’er it, and the sunniest of dispositions darkens when it’s lost.
1.4.2
As to what they say about the Druze being lazy and slow and about their knowing neither covenant nor compact, the truth is entirely otherwise. Their characterization as lazy is more akin to a compliment, for it springs from their moderation, abstention from dishonorable acts, and renunciation of the world. On the other hand, the most praiseworthy characteristics become indistinguishable from their opposites when men compete in making a show of them and they exceed by even a little their proper bounds. Thus, excessive clemency, for example, becomes indistinguishable from weakness, generosity from prodigality, courage from impetuosity and recklessness. Indeed, even excessive worship and religiosity become indistinguishable from obsession and insanity. This being the case, and given that the Druze are excessive in their moderation — so that you will not find any of them braving the desert wastes or setting forth upon the seas to seek their sustenance (izāʾ)(1) or aspiring to elegance in clothing or food or stooping to or becoming deeply involved in any base occupation or practicing the toilsome crafts — they are thought to be lazy and sluggish. It is also well known that as a person’s appetites and greed increase, so too do his ill health, his hard work, and his cares. Frankish merchants, for all their wealth and riches, are worse off than the peasants of our country: you find them on their feet from morning until ten at night.
1.4.3
As for the Druze knowing no agreements or covenants, this is mere slander and falsehood, for they have never been known to undertake to do something and then to break their word, unless they sensed foul play on the other’s part. Nor is it known for an emir or shaykh of theirs to see his Christian neighbor’s wife bathing one day and, finding her fair-skinned plumpness, her buttocks, and her fine silks pleasing, to send someone to flatter or abduct her. Also, as you are well aware, there are many Christians living under their patronage who have requested and received their promises of protection and who, if given the choice of abandoning their protectors in favor of having their security provided by the Christian shaykhs, would refuse. In my opinion, anyone who takes care to preserve the sanctity of the neighbor who is under his protection deserves every good thing and will not betray him in other matters. As for the factionalism and conspiracies among the Druze and other communities, these are purely political matters, some wanting this emir to rule them and some that, and they have nothing to do with religion.
1.4.4
The Fāriyāq’s father was one of those who sought to depose the emir who was, at the time, entrusted with the political affairs of the Mountain; he took the side of his enemies, who were the emir’s relatives.143 More than once, commotions and skirmishes broke out. Then the tide turned against the emir’s enemies, and they fled to Damascus begging for aid from its governor, who gave them promises and raised their hopes. On the night of their escape, the emir’s troops attacked the Fāriyāq’s home town, so he fled with his mother to a fortified house nearby belonging to another emir. Looters took all the silver and household possessions that they found in his house, among them a tambour144 that he used to play in his spare time. When these convulsions quieted down, the Fāriyāq and his mother returned to their house and found it stripped bare. A few days later, the tambour was returned to him; the person who’d stolen it, seeing no benefit in carrying it about and unable to sell it — for players of musical instruments in those parts were very few — had given it to the village priest to make amends for what he had stolen, and the priest returned it to the Fāriyāq.