The Arabic language had become dominant everywhere. Its vocabulary had leavened the whole lump of languages in the Near East. Every race with which the Arabs came in contact was more or less Arabized. “The extent of this influence,” says Chenery,[3] “may be perceived by comparing the Persian of Firdausi with that of Saʾdi. The language of the former, who flourished in the early part of our eleventh century, is tolerably pure, while the Gulistan, which was produced some two hundred and fifty years later, is in some places little more than a piecing together of Arabic words with a cement of the original tongue. It is to be noticed, also, that the latter author introduces continually Arabic verses, as the highest ornaments of his work, and assumes that his readers are acquainted with this classic and sacred tongue.”
Trade routes extended everywhere. There was intercourse with India and China on the east, as well as with the Spice Islands, so called, of Malaysia. Caravans carried trade across the whole of Central Asia and Northern Arabia to the emporiums of the West. Spain had intercourse with Persia. Al-Hariri praises Busrah “as the spot where the ship and the camel meet, the sea fish and the lizard, the camel-leader and the sailor, the fisher and the tiller.” In other words it was the port and emporium for all the lands watered by the Euphrates and Tigris. The same was true of Alexandria for the West.
We have evidences that an extensive trade was carried on between Arabia and China in walrus and ivory. An extensive work exists written in Chinese in the twelfth century on trade with the Arabs of which a recent translation has been published at Petrograd. More remarkable still is the fact that in Scandinavia thousands of Kufic coins have been found, nearly all of which date from the eleventh century. This would indicate that even this remote part of Europe was in touch with the Near East.[4]
Judging from literature and history, it was a time of looseness of morals and of divorce between religion and ethics, even more startling than in the world of Islam to-day. There were those who wrote commentaries on the marvels of the Koran, like Al-Harawi, yet did not scruple to indulge in private wine-drinking and carousals and loose conversation. The place of wine, women, and song, not only in popular literature and poetry, but even in the table talk of theologians and philosophers is clear evidence. Huart remarks in regard to the celebrated “Book of the Monasteries,” which is an anthology of the convents of the Near East: “We must not forget that, when Moslems went to Christian cloisters, it was not to seek devotional impulses, but simply for the sake of an opportunity of drinking wine, the use of which was forbidden in the Mohammedan towns. The poets, out of gratitude, sang the praises of the blessed spots where they had enjoyed the delights of intoxication.” Those who dared to preach and write against this public immorality had to suffer the consequences; and because hypocrites were in power reformers were not heeded.
We read of Ibn Hamdun (1101-1167), that when he openly attacked the evils which he saw around him in Bagdad, he was dismissed from his public office as secretary of state, cast into prison, and left to die. Punishments were cruel. Amputations for theft, in accordance with the Koran legislation, were matters of such every-day occurrence that the maimed man was always a suspect. We read of Al-Zamakhshari, that one of his feet had been frost-bitten during a winter storm, necessitating an amputation, and so he went about with a wooden leg, but he also carried about with him a written testimony of witnesses to prove that he had been maimed by accident, and not in punishment for a crime.
Al-Baihaki, the chronicler of the court at Bagdad, shows us that the zeal for the faith was often accompanied by a reckless disregard for the law of Islam as regards the use of fermented liquor. Not only the soldiers and their officers had drunken brawls, but the Sultan Masʾud used to enjoy regular bouts in which he frequently saw his fellow topers “under the table.” Here is a scene represented as having taken place at Ghazni, the capital of Khorasan province. “Fifty goblets and flagons of wine were brought from the pavilion into the garden, and the cups began to go round. ‘Fair measure,’ said the amir, ‘and equal cups—let us drink fair.’ They grew merry and the minstrels sang. One of the courtiers had finished five tankards—each held nearly a pint of wine—but the sixth confused him, the seventh bereft him of his senses, and at the eighth he was consigned to his servants. The doctor was carried off at his fifth cup; Khalil Dawud managed ten, Siyabiruz nine, and then they were taken home; everybody rolled or was rolled away, till only the Sultan and the Khwaja Abd-ar-Razzak remained. The Khwaja finished eighteen goblets and then rose, saying, ‘If your slave has any more he will lose both his wits and his respect for your Majesty.’ Masʾud went on alone, and after he had drunk twenty-seven full cups, he too arose, called for water and prayer-carpet, washed, and recited the belated noon and sunset prayers together as soberly as if he had not tasted a drop; then mounted his elephant and rode to the palace.”[5]
Masʾud was put to death in 1040. His sons and descendants for more than a century ruled this part of the Moslem world. But Ghazni fell from the proud position of the capital of a kingdom to a mere dependency of the Empire of Malek Shah.
The eleventh century was a period when the nations of Western Europe were beginning to crystallize both as regards their governments and civilization. Their influence was felt at home and abroad, although the masses were still in the depths of barbarism. Among the clergy and nobility something of order and civilization, and social development had appeared, but we are told by one writer that it was a striking characteristic of the time to find side by side with barbarian violence and disorder, and the constant display of the most brutal passions, a strong religious feeling. This feeling often took the form of superstition and fanaticism, the performance of meritorious works, especially a pilgrimage to the holy sepulcher. Thousands risked their life and health, and spent all their fortune to reach the holy city, with the same devotion and sacrifice which we still witness among the ardent Russian pilgrims of to-day.
When Asia Minor and Syria were conquered by the Turks this access to Jerusalem was cut off. In 1076 (Al-Ghazali was then eighteen years old) they massacred three thousand of these Christian people and their subsequent rule was relentless in its tyranny. We read that “the venerable Patriarch was dragged by the hair along the streets, and cast into a dungeon; the clergy of every sect were insulted; and the unhappy pilgrims were made to suffer every indignity and abuse.”