Ahmad ibn Hanbal, hijriy taqvim bo‘yicha 241-yilda, milodiy taqvim bo‘yicha 855-yilda vafot etgan, ehtimol tarix davomida eng mashhur musulmonlardan biridir. Uning tufayli ko‘pchilik faqat Muhammad ﷺ davridagi amal qilingan din to‘g‘ri din, deb ishondi. O‘z jamoasini bu dunyoda birlashtirib saqlash va oxiratda najotga erishish uchun musulmonlar Payg‘ambar ﷺ va uning sahobalari yashaganidek yashashi kerak edi: ular yegan narsani yeyish, ular kiygan narsani kiyish, ular qilganidek faqat shunday savdo-sotiq qilish.

Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal, who died in the 241st year of the Muslim calendar, 855 according to the Christian one, is probably one of the most famous Muslims in history. Thanks to him, many came to believe that the only right religion was the one practiced at the time of the Prophet Muḥammad. To keep their community together in this world and gain salvation in the next, Muslims needed to live as the Prophet and his Companions had lived: to eat what they ate, wear what they wore, buy and sell only as they had done.

“Men biror xato qilyapmanmi?” deb so‘radi bir kuni Ibn Ḥanbalning xotinlaridan biri, nikoh qilinganidan bir necha kun o‘tgach. “Yo‘q”, deb javob berdi u, “faqat sen kiyib yurgan bu sandallar Payg‘ambar ﷺ zamonida mavjud bo‘lmagan” (62.7).

“Is there anything I’m doing wrong?” one of Ibn Ḥanbal’s wives asked him a few days after they were married. “No,” he answered, “except that those sandals you’re wearing didn’t exist at the time of the Prophet” (62.7).

Birinchi musulmonlar yashagani kabi yashash uchun ular haqida iloji boricha ko‘proq bilish zarur edi. Ularning so‘zlari va amallari haqidagi xabarlar bir mo‘min tomonidan ikkinchisiga, bu xabarlarni yetkazganlarning ismlari bilan birga takrorlanardi. Ibn Ḥanbal davriga kelib, to‘g‘ri xabar — Hadis deb ataladigan xabar — so‘zlovchining manbasidan boshlanib, Payg‘ambar ﷺ yoki sahobalardan birining biror ishni qilganini yoki biror narsa deganini ko‘rgan yoki eshitgan shaxsda tugaydigan ismlar ro‘yxatini o‘z ichiga olishi kerak deb hisoblanardi.

To live as the first Muslims had lived, it was necessary to know as much as possible about them. Reports of their words and deeds were repeated by one believer to another, along with the names of those who had passed these reports on. By Ibn Ḥanbal’s time, a proper report—called a Hadith—was expected to include a list of names beginning with the speaker’s source and ending with the person who had seen the Prophet or a Companion doing or saying whatever it was that one wished to know.

Ibn Ḥanbal Abbosiylar inkvizitsiyasi davrida hibsga olingach, bir xayrixoh unga quyidagi hadisni keltirib maslahat berdi:

After Ibn Ḥanbal was arrested during the Abbasid Inquisition, a well-wisher counseled him by citing the following Hadith:

Biz al-Layts ibn Sa‘d'dan rivoyat qilinganini eshitdik, u Muhammad ibn ‘Ajlondan, u Abu z-Zinaddan, u al-A‘rajdan, u Abu Hurayradan naql qiladi: Payg‘ambar ﷺ shunday degan: “Agar kimdir sizdan Allohga itoatsizlik qilishingizni so‘rasa, unga quloq solmang” (68.4).

We heard al-Layth ibn Saʿd report, citing Muḥammad ibn ʿAjlān, citing Abū l-Zinād, citing al-Aʿraj, citing Abū Hurayrah, that the Prophet, God bless and keep him, said: “If any ask you to disobey God, heed him not” (68.4).

Agar tolib hech qanday hadis xabarini topa olmagan bo‘lsa-chi, ya’ni biror masala bo‘yicha Payg‘ambar ﷺ dan rivoyat topilmasa, nima bo‘ladi? Bunday holda u o‘z aqli bilan masalaga yechim izlashi mumkin. Biroq bunday shaxsiy ijtihod uchun joy juda tor edi va kundan-kunga yanada torayib borardi. Ibn Hanbal davrida ko‘pchilik musulmonlar o‘zlari xohlagancha hukm chiqarish mumkin, deb hisoblamas edi. Ko‘pchilik uchun barcha tegishli Qur’on oyatlarini va hadis rivoyatlarini hisobga olish, so‘ngra tobora murakkablashib borayotgan huquqiy mulohaza tizimidan foydalanib, Allohning irodasiga eng yaqin keladigan qoidani topish zarur edi. Ammo Ibn Hanbalning o‘zi bu yondashuvni qabul qila olmasdi. Uning nazarida yechim ko‘proq hadis rivoyatlarini o‘rganish edi, chunki ulardan birortasi kerakli ma’lumotni berishi mumkin edi. Amalda esa bu yechim o‘rganuvchiga katta talablar qo‘yardi. Birinchidan, ma’lum bir rivoyatni biladigan kishilar musulmonlar yashaydigan yurtlarning istalgan joyida bo‘lishi mumkin edi va ularni izlab topish kerak edi. Ibn Hanbal Kufa shahriga hadis to‘plash safaridan qaytayotganida, bir do‘sti uni uchratib, haddan ortiq harakat qilayotganini aytib koyidi:

What if a seeker could find no Hadith report about a particular question? In that case he might apply his own reasoning to the problem. Yet the scope for undisciplined individual effort was small and growing smaller. In Ibn Ḥanbal’s time, most Muslims no longer believed that they could simply judge as they thought best. For many, it was necessary to take into consideration all related Qurʾanic verses and Hadith reports, and then—using an increasingly complex system of legal reasoning—come up with a rule that seemed best to approximate God’s will. Yet Ibn Ḥanbal himself could not accept this approach. The solution, in his view, was to learn more Hadith reports, in the hope that one or another report would supply the information needed. In practice, however, this solution placed great demands on the learner. For one thing, the people who happened to know a particular report might be living anywhere in the lands settled by Muslims, and it was necessary to seek them out. On his return from a Hadith-gathering mission to the town of Kufa, Ibn Ḥanbal was accosted by a friend who reproached him for overdoing it:

"Bugun Kufa; ertaga yana Basra bo'ladi! Buni yana qancha davom ettirasan?

“Today it’s Kufa; tomorrow it’ll be Basra again! How much longer can you keep this up?

"Siz allaqachon o‘ttiz ming hadis ko‘chirib oldingiz! Bu yetarli emasmi?" — [Ahmad] hech narsa demadi.

You’ve already copied thirty thousand reports! Isn’t that enough?” [Aḥmad] said nothing.

«Agar oltmish ming (ga) yetsangiz-chi?» U hanuz jim edi.

“What if you reach sixty thousand?” He was still silent.

“Yuz ming?” “Shu paytda,” deb javob berdi u, “odam o‘zida biror narsani bilish da’vosini qilishi mumkin” (4.20).

“A hundred thousand?” “At that point,” he replied, “a man might claim to know something” (4.20).

Yana bir muammo o'rganayotgan narsalaringizni kuzatib borish edi. Premodern jamiyatlar ko'pincha og'zaki madaniyatlar sifatida tasvirlanadi, premodern odamlar esa ulkan miqdordagi materialni yodlash qobiliyatiga ega bo'lgan deb hisoblanadi, lekin hamma ham yodlash orqali o'rganishni oson deb topmagan. Ibn Hanbalning kattaroq zamondoshi al-Shofi'iy, xotirasini mustahkamlash uchun buxur yeganligi rivoyat qilinadi, natijada ichki qon ketishiga duch kelgan.1 Ibn Hanbalning o'zi esa o'rgangan hadislarni yozib borishni talab qilgan (13.9). U o'z yozuvlarini – mavzular bo'yicha tartiblangan holda – masjidga olib borib dars bergani (26.2) va kerakli rivoyatni topish uchun qog'ozlar uyumini titkilagani (26.1) haqida hikoya qilinadi.

Another problem was keeping track of what one was learning. Premodern societies are often described as oral cultures, and premodern people as having extraordinary abilities to memorize vast amounts of material, but not everyone found rote learning easy. Ibn Ḥanbal’s older contemporary al-Shāfiʿī reportedly ingested frankincense to strengthen his memory, to the point that he suffered internal bleeding.1 Ibn Ḥanbal himself insisted that one write down the Hadiths one learned (13.9). He is described as carrying his notes—organized by topic—into the mosque to teach (26.2) and rummaging through piles of papers to find the report he wanted (26.1).

Hadis rivoyatlarini ko‘p o‘rgangan bo‘lsa ham, odamning vazifasi endigina boshlangan bo‘lardi. Ko‘p rivoyatlarni bilishning o‘zi kifoya emas edi: ularda bayon etilgan ta’limotlarga muvofiq yashash ham zarur edi. Ibn Hanbal uchun bu Payg‘ambar ﷺ rad etgan yoki hech ko‘rmagan hashamatlardan, masalan, kumush bilan bezatilgan stullardan o‘zini tiyish degani edi (53.3). Bundan tashqari, o‘zi uchun o‘zida mubah bo‘lgan, ammo haromga yoki shubhali narsaga aloqador bo‘lib qolgan buyumlar va faoliyatlardan ham saqlanish zarur edi. Masalan, Ibn Hanbal hukumat yig‘adigan soliqlar adolat bilan undirilganmi va to‘g‘ri sarflanadimi, buni bilish imkoniga ega emas edi. Shu sababli u saroyga tashrif buyurganida, mahbus sifatida ham, mehmon sifatida ham, unga taklif qilingan hech narsani yemas edi (69.13, 69.25, 73.19–21). U, shuningdek, xalifa tomonidan sovg‘a qabul qilgan o‘g‘li Solih mulkidagi pechda pishirilgan non yoki qovoqni ham yemadi (49.13, 49.20). Ritual nopoklikdan bunday qo‘rqish waraʿ deb atalgan; bu so‘zning aniq ingliz tilidagi tarjimasi yo‘q ko‘rinadi, ko‘pincha “scrupulousness” yoki “scrupulosity” deb ataladi. Amalda waraʿ hashamatdan voz kechishni anglatardi, Bag‘dod esa o‘sha davrda mashhur boy va nafsga berilgan shahar bo‘lib, ko‘plab hashamatlarni taklif qilardi. Ba’zi hamkasblaridan farqli o‘laroq, Ibn Hanbal boshqalarning zavqlariga aralashishga ishonmas edi.

Even if one learned many Hadith reports, one’s task had only begun. Simply knowing many reports was not enough: it was also necessary to live in accordance with the teachings they contained. For Ibn Ḥanbal, this meant denying oneself the luxuries the Prophet scorned, or had never seen, like chairs decorated with silver (53.3). It was, furthermore, necessary to avoid objects and activities that might have been acceptable in themselves but which were tainted by association with something forbidden or merely suspicious. For example, Ibn Ḥanbal had no way of knowing whether the taxes collected by the government were fairly levied and properly spent. He therefore refused to eat anything offered to him during his visits to the palace, whether as a prisoner or a guest (69.13, 69.25, 73.19–21). He also refused to eat bread or gourds baked in an oven that belonged to his son Ṣāliḥ, who had accepted a gift from the caliph (49.13, 49.20). This horror of ritual pollution was called waraʿ, which seems to have no precise English translation; it is often called “scrupulousness” or “scrupulosity.” In practice, waraʿ meant renouncing luxury, and Baghdad—a famously wealthy and self-indulgent place at the time—had many luxuries to offer. Unlike some of his associates, Ibn Ḥanbal did not believe in interfering with the pleasures of others.

U shunga qaramay, u o‘zi bu ishlarda qatnashishdan bosh tortdi. Aksincha, kunlarini xonadonidagi kambag‘al bir xonada o‘tkazar edi, ba'zan esa bir necha tangani latta ichiga o‘rab saqlashi to‘g‘ri bo‘ladimi, yo‘qmi, deb o‘ylardi, chunki bu uni Alloh rizqini bermasligidan shubhalanish ma'nosini anglatishi mumkin edi (35:7, 41:17, 79:6).

Yet he refused to partake in them himself. Instead, he spent his days in a shabby room, sometimes wondering whether keeping a few coins wrapped in a rag was wrong because it implied doubt that God would provide for him (35.7, 41.17, 79.6).

Ibn Ḥanbal ning zamondoshlari uchun bu manzara ayniqsa ta’sirli edi, chunki uning zohidligi majburiyat emas, balki o‘z tanlovi edi. Ularning ismlariga qaraganda, Hadis olimlarining ko‘pchiligi mavlolardan, ya’ni Islomni qabul qilgan arab bo‘lmagan kishilarning avlodlaridan edi. Ularning otalari savdogar va hunarmandlar bo‘lib, ismlari “charmgar”, “matoʻchi”, “sirka tayyorlovchi” va shunga o‘xshash edi. Ibn Ḥanbal esa, aksincha, arab edi: u dunyoga Payg‘ambar Muhammad ﷺ va Vahiy tilini bergan xalqqa mansub edi. Bundan tashqari, uning oilasi Abbosiylar hokimiyatini qo‘lga kiritishga yordam bergan nufuzli oila edi. Uning bobosi hozirgi Turkmaniston va Eron chegarasida joylashgan Sarakhs shahrida hokim bo‘lgan (1.7). Taxmin qilish mumkinki, Ibn Ḥanbal oilaviy aloqalaridan foydalanib, davlat xizmatida ish topishi mumkin edi (3.5–7). Lekin u buning o‘rniga Hadis izlashni tanladi. Albatta, u meros bo‘lib qolgan boylikning bir foydasini qabul qildi: o‘zi va oilasini boqish uchun yetarli daromad keltiradigan bir qancha ijara mulklari bor edi (40.1). Ammo uni ijarachilariga eng kichik bahonada ijara haqini kamaytirib bergan kishi sifatida ham tasvirlashadi (42.1). Narxlar baland bo‘lganda, u ijara haqini umuman undirmagan ko‘rinadi, o‘rniga xotini Umm Ṣāliḥ to‘qigan mato sotishdan kun kechirgan (44.6).

For Ibn Ḥanbal’s contemporaries, this spectacle was an especially moving one because his austerity was a matter of choice. To judge by their names, many of his fellow Hadith scholars were descendants of mawālī, that is, of non-Arabs who had adopted Islam. Their fathers were traders and craftsmen, with names such as “the leather-worker,” “the draper,” “the maker of vinegar,” and so on. Ibn Ḥanbal, by contrast, was an Arab: he belonged to the people who had given the world the Prophet Muḥammad and the language of the Revelation. Moreover, his family was a prominent one that had helped to bring the Abbasid regime to power. His grandfather had served as governor of Sarakhs, a town that now lies on the border between Turkmenistan and Iran (1.7). Presumably, Ibn Ḥanbal could have used his family connections to obtain a government job (3.5–7). Instead, he chose to seek Hadith. Admittedly, he did accept one of the benefits of inherited wealth: a number of rental properties that supplied enough income to support him and his family (40.1). But he is also described as giving his tenants breaks on their rent on the slightest pretext (42.1). When prices were high, he seems not to have collected rent at all, living instead from the sale of cloth woven by his wife Umm Ṣāliḥ (44.6).

Hindsight shows that Ibn Ḥanbal played a formative role in the movement later called Sunnism. For his followers, being a Muslim meant taking the practice (sunnah) of the Prophet ﷺ, along with the Qur'an, as the basis for living one's life. It meant looking to Hadith—and not, for example, to the words of a living religious guide—as the source of right practice. It meant accepting the succession of caliphs after Muhammad ﷺ rather than claiming, as the Shi'a did, that ʿAlī was the worthiest of the Prophet's ﷺ Companions. Finally, it meant rejecting speculation in matters of religion and refusing to discuss matters not spelled out in the Qur'an or the Hadith.

With the benefit of hindsight, we see that Ibn Ḥanbal played a formative role in the movement later called Sunnism. For his followers, being a Muslim meant taking the practice (sunnah) of the Prophet, along with the Qurʾan, as the basis for living one’s life. It meant looking to Hadith—and not, for example, to the words of a living religious guide—as the source of right practice. It meant accepting the succession of caliphs after Muḥammad rather than claiming, as the Shiʿa did, that ʿAlī was the worthiest of the Prophet’s Companions. Finally, it meant rejecting speculation in matters of religion and refusing to discuss matters not spelled out in the Qurʾan or the Hadith.

Ajablanarlisi, Ibn Ḥanbal vafot etishi bilan uning izdoshlari o‘z pozitsiyalarini raqiblarining qurollari, jumladan ilohiy bahs-munozara yordamida himoya qilishga majbur bo‘ldilar. Hali u tirikligidayoq hadis tarafdori musulmonlar bilan Abbosiylar hukumati o‘rtasida yaqinlashuv boshlangan edi. Hukumat esa ommaviy e’tiqodli musulmonlarga o‘zining yuqoridan boshqariladigan, shia uslubidagi yo‘l-yo‘riqlarini joriy qilishga urinardi. Ibn Ḥanbalning shogirdlari esa uning yo‘lidan borishni istagan kishilar uchun asosiy manbalarga aylanadigan rivoyat va fikrlarni to‘plashni allaqachon boshlagan edilar. Ushbu faoliyat natijasida, G‘arb huquq tizimlari qamrab oladigan sohalar bilan birga, e’tiqod va ibodatni ham o‘z ichiga olgan fiqh masalalarida, sog‘lom-tarzda shakllangan, ta’limoti Ḥanbalī deb ataladigan huquqiy maktab paydo bo‘ldi. Uning asoschisi Ibn Ḥanbal bo‘lmasa-da, albatta ilhomlantiruvchisi, hech bo‘lmaganda timsoli bo‘lgan.

Ironically, however, Ibn Ḥanbal seems hardly to have been laid to rest before his followers felt compelled to defend their position using the weapons of their adversaries, including theological disputation. Even while he was alive, a rapprochement had begun to take place between Hadith-minded Muslims and the Abbasid regime, which had tried to impose its own top-down, Shiʿa-style guidance on the mass of believers. And Ibn Ḥanbal’s associates had already begun collecting the reports and opinions that would become fundamental texts for those who wished to follow his lead in matters of law (which included belief and ritual as well as the areas covered by Western legal systems). From all this activity emerged the so-called Ḥanbalī legal school, of which Ibn Ḥanbal was not the founder, but certainly the inspiration, or at least the figurehead.

Shia mazhabi, ratsionalizm va ilohiy spekulyatsiyaga qarshi chiqish orqali Ibn Hanbal bugungi kunda yer yuzida yashayotgan musulmonlarning ko‘pchiligi, hech bo‘lmaganda nominal ravishda, egallagan pozitsiyalarni shakllantirishga hissa qo‘shdi.

By taking a stand against Shiʿism, rationalism, and theological speculation, Ibn Ḥanbal helped articulate the positions now held, at least nominally, by the majority of the Muslims now living on the planet.

Kishi bir kishi, Ibn Ḥanbalning dunyoqarashini ulashmasa, uning qarashlari bo'g'uvchi, hatto ochiqdan-ochiq zulmkor tuyulishi mumkin. Bundan tashqari, uning izdoshlari unga nisbatan his qilgan ehtirom ortiqcha, hatto yoqimsiz tuyulishi mumkin. Haqiqatan ham, bu kitobning ikki avvalgi arabcha nashrining muharriri ham da bugungi musulmonlarning ko'pchiligi Ibn Ḥanbalga nisbatan qilingan avliyolik sig'inishini qattiq qoralashga harakat qiladi. Ushbu kitobdagi rivoyatlarga ko'ra, Ibn Ḥanbal burun qon ketishini to'xtata olgan (61.2) va duo o'qish orqali uyidan chumolilarni haydab chiqargan (61.1).

For someone who does not share Ibn Ḥanbal’s view of the world, his positions may seem stifling, if not frankly repressive. Moreover, the adoration his followers felt for him can seem cloying. Indeed, many of today’s Muslims—including the editor of two prior Arabic editions of this biography—take pains to condemn the cult of sanctity to which Ibn Ḥanbal was subjected. According to the reports in this book, Ibn Ḥanbal could cure nosebleeds (61.2) and drive ants from his house by uttering a prayer (61.1).

Ḥanbal-ning o'zi... — no, let me translate faithfully. На Візантия қарши жанг майдонида аскарлар унинг саломатлиги учун дуо қилар эдилар, то Худо уларнинг ўқларини нишонга йўналтирсин (19.1). Унинг вафотидан сўнг, қабрининг ёнидаги барча қабрларга нур тарқалди (95.1), ва ўлган кишиларнинг тўдалари тушларида пайдо бўлиб, уни Жаннатда (яъни, Жаннатда) кўрганликларини айтдилар (93.14, 93.16 ва давомида). Ибн Ҳанбалнинг ўз даврида буларга қанчалик ишонилгани аниқ эмас, аммо у, шубҳасиз, истагидан ортиқ эътибор объектига айланган кўринади. "Мен ҳеч қачон эга бўлолмайдиган нарсани орзу қиламан", деб айтган экан у, "ҳеч кимсаси йўқ жой" (54.4). Note: I translated the sentence structure as given. Uzbek correction: the text should be in Uzbek Latin script, so here is the proper version: Vizantiyaga qarshi jang maydonida askarlar uning salomatligi uchun duo qilar edilar, toki Xudo ularning o'qlarini nishonga yo'naltirsin (19.1). Uning vafotidan so'ng, qabrining yonidagi barcha qabrlarga nur tarqaldi (95.1), va o'lgan kishilarning to'dalari tushlarida paydo bo'lib, uni Jannatda (ya'ni, Jannatda) ko'rganliklarini aytdilar (93.14, 93.16 va davomida). Ibn Hanbalning o'z davrida bularga qanchalik ishonilgani aniq emas, ammo u, shubhasiz, istagidan ortiq e'tibor ob'ektiga aylangan ko'rinadi. "Men hech qachon ega bo'lolmaydigan narsani orzu qilaman", deb aytgan ekan u, "hech kimsasi yo'q joy" (54.4).

On the battlefront against the Byzantines, soldiers would pray for his well-being so that God would guide their shots to their targets (19.1). After his death, a light spread from his grave to all the tombs nearby (95.1), and droves of dead men appeared in dreams to say that they had seen him in the Garden (that is, in Paradise) (93.14, 93.16ff.). It is not clear how much of this was actually believed in Ibn Ḥanbal’s own time, but he certainly seems to have been the object of more attention than he wanted. “I wish for something I’ll never have,” he is supposed to have said, “a place with no one in it at all” (54.4).

Shu nuqtai nazardan qaraganda, zamonaviy kitobxonlar uchun aynan shu jihat Ibn Ḥanbalni oqlaydi, hech bo'lmasa biografiya mavzusi sifatida. Agar u avliyo bo'lsa (bu so'zni qat'iy ma'noda aytganda, nomuvofiq xristian atamasi), u o'z avliyoligidan ham bezor bo'ladigan odamdir. Avliyolar haqidagi hikoyalarning havoiy jonzotlaridan farqli o'laroq, Ibn Ḥanbal nafaqat Xudo odami, balki er, ota va mulkdor hamdir, ehtimol jahon adabiyotidagi yagona avliyo mulkdor. U jinlar bilan kurashmaydi, balki kundalik hayotning muammolari bilan band: qon olish uchun pulni qayerdan topish (49.18), qizining sochiga qisqich taqishiga ruxsat berish kerakmi (65.9), donor uni bargi cha'kdan o'ralgan holda yuborgan sariyog'ni saqlashga qonun ruxsat beradimi (49.24). Va qanday qattiq qaror qabul qilmasin, u o'z sa'y-harakatlarining hech qachon yetarli bo'lmasligiga ishonadi. Bir safar undan ahvolini so'rashganda, u g'azablanib gapirib ketdi: «Qanday qilib inson bo'lishi mumkin, — deb javob berdi u, — Rabbisi unga majburiyatlar yuklaganda, Payg'ambari sunnatga amal qilishni talab qilganda, ikki farishtasi yaxshi amallarini kutganda, joni o'ziga yoqqanni talab qilganda, Shayton uni shahvatga undaganda, O'lim farishtasi uning jonini izlaganda va oilasi pul so'raganda?» (56.6). Oxir-oqibat, aynan shu insoniy zaiflik ushbu biografiyadagi eng dramatik voqealarning ta'sirini kuchaytiradi — Abbosiylar inkvizitsiyasi qo'lida uning qamalishi, sudi va qamchilanishi.

For many modern readers, it is this element that vindicates Ibn Ḥanbal, at least as a subject of biography. If he is a saint (to use what is, strictly speaking, an inapposite Christian term), he is one who finds his own sainthood exasperating. Unlike the ethereal creatures of hagiography, Ibn Ḥanbal is not only a man of God but also a husband, a father, and a landlord—possibly the only saintly landlord in world literature. Instead of wrestling with demons, he struggles with the problems of daily life: where to find the money for a cupping (49.18), whether his daughter should be allowed to put clips in her hair (65.9), whether the law permits him to keep butter when the grocer sends it wrapped in leaves of chard (49.24). And, no matter how harsh the choices he eventually makes, he remains convinced that his efforts are never good enough. On one occasion, asked how he was, he launched into a tirade: “How can a man be,” he answered, “with his Lord imposing obligations, his Prophet demanding that he follow the sunnah, his two angels waiting for good deeds, his soul clamoring for what it wants, the Devil goading him to lust, the Angel of Death seeking his life, and his family asking for money?” (56.6). It is this human frailty, finally, that heightens the effect of the most dramatic episodes in this biography—his imprisonment, trial, and flogging at the hands of the Abbasid Inquisition.

Ibn Ḥanbal ayni fikrlarga yo‘l qo‘ymas edi, ya’ni diniy masalalar haqida taxmin qilib mulohaza yuritishni yoqtirmasdi. Uning nazarida, agar birinchi musulmonlar biror e’tiqod yoki amaliy masala haqida gapirmagan bo‘lsa, o‘sha masalani muhokama qilish noto‘g‘ri edi. Abbosiylar xalifasi al-Ma’mun (vafoti 218/833) esa taxmin va mulohazaga nafaqat ishongan, balki o‘zini bunday mulohazalarni yuritishga eng munosib shaxs deb hisoblagan. Bundan tashqari, u o‘z fuqarolari xalifa qaror qilgan har qanday narsani qabul qilishga majbur deb bilardi. Buni sinab ko‘rish uchun xalifa faqat aql yordamida hal etilishi mumkin bo‘lgan bir masalada o‘z pozitsiyasini bildirishga qaror qildi. Bu masala Qur’onning yaratilganligi edi. Al-Ma’munning fikricha, Alloh barcha narsani, shu jumladan Qur’onni ham yaratgan. Ko‘plab hadisshunoslar esa Alloh kalomi Uning bir qismi, shuning uchun u ham azaliy, deb da’vo qilar edilar. Xalifaning ta’kidlashicha, bunday da’voni qilish aslida nasroniy bo‘lish bilan barobar edi. Ammo Ibn Ḥanbal oddiy dalillar bilan ishontirib bo‘ladigan odam emas edi. Undan Qur’onning yaratilgan ekanligini tasdiqlash so‘ralganda, u so‘roq qiluvchilar bu haqda Kitobning o‘zidan yoki Payg‘ambar ﷺ dan shunday deganini ko‘rsatuvchi oyat yoki hadis keltirmaguncha bunga rozi bo‘lmadi (69.7ff.).

Ibn Ḥanbal did not believe in speculating about matters of religion. For him, if the first Muslims had not addressed a particular question of faith or practice, it was wrong to discuss it. The Abbasid caliph al-Maʾmūn (d. 218/833), on the other hand, not only embraced speculation, he believed himself the best-qualified person to engage in it, and furthermore that his subjects were obliged to accept whatever he might decide. To test the point, the caliph decided to take a position on a problem that could only be decided by the use of reason. That problem was the createdness of the Qurʾan. Al-Maʾmūn’s position was that God had created everything, including the Qurʾan. To claim instead, as many Hadith-men did, that the Word of God was part of Him and therefore eternal too was in effect to be a Christian, or so the caliph insisted. But Ibn Ḥanbal was not one to be persuaded by mere argument. Asked to affirm that the Qurʾan is created, he refused to do so unless his interrogators could give him a verse from the Book itself or a statement by the Prophet saying this was so (69.7ff.).

Ibn Ḥanbal doubtless knew that to rely on the Qur'an and Hadith alone was to deny the caliph any special interpretive authority. Predictably, al-Ma'mun threatened to kill Ibn Ḥanbal if he did not recant. What happened next is best read as it is told in the biography; what matters for the purpose of introduction is that the account depicts him as poignantly human and afraid. "I don't care if they keep me in prison," he is supposed to have told his friends. "My house is already a prison. And I don't care if they kill me by the sword. The only thing I'm afraid of is being flogged: I'm afraid I won't be able to take it" (68.1). Even readers who have little sympathy for his beliefs will, I hope, be able to admire Ibn Ḥanbal—or at least, his literary counterpart—for practicing principled nonviolent resistance to coercive state authority.

As Ibn Ḥanbal doubtless knew, to rely on Qurʾan and Hadith alone was to deny the caliph any special interpretive authority. Predictably, al-Maʾmūn threatened to kill Ibn Ḥanbal if he did not recant. What happened next is best read as it is told in the biography; what matters for the purpose of introduction is that the account depicts him as poignantly human and afraid. “I don’t care if they keep me in prison,” he is supposed to have told his friends. “My house is already a prison. And I don’t care if they kill me by the sword. The only thing I’m afraid of is being flogged: I’m afraid I won’t be able to take it” (68.1). Even readers who have little sympathy for his beliefs will, I hope, be able to admire Ibn Ḥanbal—or at least, his literary counterpart—for practicing principled nonviolent resistance to coercive state authority.

Kristofer Melxert o‘zining Ibn Hanbal hayoti haqidagi ajoyib darajada ma’lumotli kitobining kirish qismida nega eski biografiyani tarjima qilmasdan, yangisini yozganini tushuntiradi. O‘rta asrlardagi biografiya, deb yozadi u, «muqarrar ravishda o‘rta asr nuqtai nazarini ifodalaydi»:

In the introduction to his wonderfully informative life of Ibn Ḥanbal, Christopher Melchert explains why he wrote a new biography instead of translating an old one. A medieval biography, he writes, “inevitably presents a medieval point of view”:

Doimiy ishlaydigan olim bunday adabiyotga ishtiyoq bilan qarashi mumkin, ammo aksariyat o‘quvchilarga bu bemaza tuyulishi mumkin. Masalan, Ibn al-Javziyning biografiyasidagi bir bob, aslida, Ahmad hadis to‘plagan to‘rt yuzdan ortiq shaxslarning ro‘yxatidan iborat. To‘g‘ri tahlil qilish odatdagi biografiya chegarasidan osonlik bilan oshib ketadi. … Men bunday mavzu faqat mutaxassislardangina boshqalarni qiziqtirishiga shubha qilaman.

A full time scholar has had the chance to develop a taste for such literature, but most readers would find it grotesque. For example, one chapter of Ibn al-Jawzi’s biography is simply a list of the more than four hundred persons from whom Ahmad collected Hadith. A proper analysis would easily exceed the limits of a normal biography.…I doubt it would interest any but specialists.

Bundan tashqari, deydi Melkert, ilgarigi davrga oid asarni tarjima qilish juda uzun bo‘lib ketadi. Masalan, az-Zahabiyning Ibn Hanbal hayoti haqidagi asarini tarjima qilish "yaxshigina 60 000 [so‘z]" talab qilar, Ibn al-Javziyning asarini esa "150 000 dan ortiq [so‘z]" talab qilar.2

Moreover, says Melchert, the translation of a premodern work would be too long. For example, al-Dhahabī’s life of Ibn Ḥanbal “would require a good 60,000 [words] and Ibn al-Jawzi’s over 150,000.”2

Ushbu asar tahrir qilingan va tarjima qilingan — bu Imom Ahmad ibn Hanbalning fazilatlari haqida, uni bagdodlik hadis olimi, faqih, tarixchi, tarjimai hol muallifi va va'zgo'y Ibn al-Javziy (vafoti 597/1201) yozgan. Melchertning uzunlik haqidagi bahosi ajoyib darajada aniq: Ibn al-Javziy matnining mazkur tarjimasi taxminan 173 500 so'zni tashkil etadi.

The latter work is the one edited and translated here: the Virtues of the Imām Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal by the Baghdadi Hadith scholar, jurist, historian, biographer, and preacher Ibn al-Jawzī (d. 597/1201).3 Melchert’s estimate of length is remarkably accurate: the present translation of Ibn al-Jawzī’s text comes to about 173,500 words.

U ham ro'parasi haqli, uzun ismlar ro'yxati haqida. Va u isnodlarni, ya'ni rivoyat zanjirlarini umuman eslatmaydi. Hadis to'plamlari, arab tarixnomalari va umuman tarjimai hol kitoblari voqea haqidagi dastlabki xabarni kimlar yetkazganini barcha rivoyat qiluvchilarning ismlarini sanab o'tish orqali keltiradi. Hadis olimi bo'lib, boshqa hadis olimi haqida yozgan Ibn al-Javziy o'z manbalarini barchasini keltirishga ayniqsa e'tiborli bo'lganga o'xshaydi. Natijada kitobning taxminan yarmi isnodlar, ya'ni manbalar ro'yxatlari deb ataladigan qismlar bilan band.

He is also quite right about the long lists of names. And he does not even mention the chains of transmitters. Like collections of Hadith reports, Arabic chronicles and biographies generally cite their sources by listing all the individuals who transmitted the original account of the event in question. As a Hadith scholar writing about another Hadith scholar, Ibn al-Jawzī seems to have been especially careful to cite all his sources. The result is a book approximately half of which is taken up with isnāds, as the lists of sources are called.

Ushbu ikki tilli nashrda asl matnning barchasi, jumladan isnodlar ham saqlab qolingan edi. Ushbu qog'oz muqovali nashrda esa, aksincha, 2, 11–14, 20, 90 va 100-boblarning deyarli hammasi chiqarib tashlangan, faqat namunaviy qism — odatda birinchisi — qoldirilgan, bu qism o'quvchiga qoldirilgan narsalar haqida tasavvur berish uchun mo'ljallangan. Qattiq muqovali nashrlar bilan izchillikni saqlash maqsadida esa, bu qog'oz muqovali nashrda hoshiyalardagi bo'lim raqamlari o'zgartirilmagan, garchi bu ba'zi joylarda raqamlarning ketma-ketligi buzilishiga olib kelgan. Bu yangi nashrda, shuningdek, birinchisidan (1.1) tashqari barcha isnodlar chiqarib tashlangan. Ikki tilli nashrdagidek, har bir xabarning boshida qavs ichida ko'rsatilgan nom rivoyat qiluvchining ismidir. Qavs ichida "Aḥmad" yozilganda, bu "Ibn Ḥanbal" degani bo'lib, keyingi xabar amalda avtobiografik xarakterga ega. Ko'p keltiriladigan boshqa rivoyat qiluvchilar Ibn Ḥanbalning o'g'illari Ṣāliḥ va ʿAbd Allāh hamda uning shogirdi al-Marrūdhīdir. Bu shaxslar haqida qo'shimcha ma'lumotni Lug'atdan topish mumkin.

In the bilingual edition of this book, all of the original material, including the isnāds, was retained. This paperback edition, by contrast, drops almost all of Chapters 2, 11–14, 20, 90, and 100, keeping only a representative section, usually the first, intended to give the reader an idea of what has been left out. To maintain consistency with the hardcovers, however, the section numbers in the margins have been left unchanged in this paperback edition, even though that has led to some non-consecutive numbering in some places. This new edition also omits all the isnāds except for the first (1.1). As in the bilingual edition, the name given in brackets at the beginning of each report is the name of the narrator. When it appears in brackets, “Aḥmad” means “Ibn Ḥanbal” and the following report is in effect autobiographical. Other commonly cited narrators are Ibn Ḥanbal’s sons Ṣāliḥ and ʿAbd Allāh, and his disciple al- Marrūdhī. More information on these figures may be found in the Glossary.

Bilingual nashr haqidagi o‘ta mulohazali sharhida Tasi Perkins menga bu kitobning muallifi haqida ko‘proq gapirmaganimning sababini so‘radi.4 Buning bir necha sababi bor. Birinchidan, Ibn al-Javziyning tashqi hayoti haqidagi faktlarni bir nechta manbalardan, ham bosma, ham onlayn holda, osongina topish mumkin. Yanada muhimi, Ibn al-Javziy zamonaviy ma’noda muallifdan ko‘ra ko‘proq tuzuvchi (kompilyator) edi. Adabiyotshunos Abdulfattoh Kilito ta’kidlaganidek, mo‘tabar arab adabiyoti aniq janrlarga (maqtov she’riyati, ishq she’riyati, tarjimai hol va h.k.) ega, ammo aniq muallif nomlari kam uchraydi.5 Ibn al-Javziyning o‘zi bizga aytadiki, bu kitob uning shaxsiy fikrini emas, butun Hanbaliy an’anasini ifodalaydi (masalan, 100.1 ga qarang). Albatta, bizda mavjud bo‘lgan kitob o‘z davri va makonining qiziqishlarini aks ettiradi. Shu o‘rinda, mening 2001-yildagi “Klassik arab tarjimai holi” kitobimning bir bobi aynan shu mavzuga bag‘ishlangan va ko‘p jihatdan men bu yerda o‘zimni takrorlamaslikni afzal ko‘rdim. Shunga qaramay, matnni tushunishga yordam beradigan fikrlar ushbu nashrning izohlarida keltirilgan (masalan, 335, 337, 342, 371, 379, 385, 386 va 422-izohlarga qarang).

In his insightful review of the bilingual edition, Tasi Perkins asked why I did not have more to say about the author of this book.4 There are several reasons why. First, the external facts of Ibn al-Jawzī’s life are readily found in several sources both in print and on line. More importantly, Ibn al-Jawzī was less an author in the modern sense than a compiler. As the literary critic Abdelfattah Kilito has argued, pre-modern Arabic literature has distinct genres (praise poetry, love poetry, biography, etc.) but few distinct authors.5 As Ibn al-Jawzī himself tells us, this book speaks for the whole Ḥanbalī tradition, not for him as an individual (see, e.g., 100.1). Of course, the book as we have it reflects the preoccupations of his time and place. As it happens, one chapter of my 2001 book Classical Arabic Biography deals with this topic, and for the most part I have preferred not to repeat myself here. Even so, points that help make sense of the text are included in the notes to this edition (see, for example, notes 335, 337, 342, 371, 379, 385, 386, and 422).

Uzunlik masalasini chetga qoldirsak, bu kitobni tarjima qilish unchalik qiyin bo‘lmadi.

Leaving aside the matter of length, this book was not particularly difficult to translate.

Boshqa seriyada chop etilgan ba'zi asarlardan farqli o'laroq, bu kitob bir vaqtlar kuchli munozara uyg'otgan masala haqidagi bahslar to'plami emas, texnik soha mutaxassislari uchun qo'llanma ham, so'z o'yinlari bilan bezatilgan adabiy yodgorlik ham emas. Bu oddiy haqiqatlarga oddiy tilda ishongan odamlar tomonidan yozilgan va ular haqida yozilgan kitob, garchi vaqt o'tishi bilan ulardagi oddiylikning bir qismi bizdan yo'qolgan bo'lsa-da. Ma'noda, eng qiyin qismlari ayni paytda ishlashda eng zavqli bo'lgan. Bularga kundalik hayot va moddiy madaniyatga oid ishoralar kiradi:

Unlike some of the other works published in this series, it is not a collection of arguments about a once-burning issue, a guide for specialists in a technical field, or a monument to verbal cleverness. It is a book by and about people who believed in simple truths expressed in simple language—even if some of that simplicity has been lost to us with the passage of time. In a sense, the difficult parts were also the most enjoyable to work on. These include the references to daily life and material culture:

“quruq zardob bilan pishirilgan, go‘sht va sabzavot (chard) to‘la xo‘rak” (38.11) dan tortib, Ibn Hanbal eshigiga loy sachratib yetib kelayotgan turk generalining kavushlarigacha (73.41) — bu kitob uchinchi hijriy/to‘qqizinchi milodiy asrdagi moddiy va ijtimoiy dunyo haqida boy ma’lumotlar xazinasi. Umid qilamanki, kamida ba’zi o‘quvchilar uning boyliklarini o‘rganib chiqadilar.

everything from “a dried-whey stew full of meat and chard” (38.11) to the galoshes a Turkish general wears as he splashes his way through the mud to Ibn Ḥanbal’s door (73.41). The book is a trove of information on the physical and social world of the third/ninth century, and I hope some readers, at least, will mine its riches.

Men eng ko‘p narsani an’ana bizga voizlar orqali saqlab qolishini istardim. Ibn Ḥanbalning hayoti bir qator rivoyatlar sifatida bayon etilgan bo‘lib, ularning har biri guvohning o‘zi yoki Ibn Ḥanbalning o‘zi tomonidan naql qilingan.

What I most wish the tradition had preserved for us is the voices. Ibn Ḥanbal’s life is told as a series of reports, each narrated by an eyewitness, or by Ibn Ḥanbal himself.

Agar sahifadagi so‘zlar haqiqatan ham nutqning transkripsiyasi bo‘lsa, har bir xabar alohida ovozni ifodalashi kerak. Ammo amalda ohangdagi xilma-xillik unchalik ko‘p ko‘rinmaydi, ehtimol xabarlar dastlab oddiy arab tilida, hatto boshqa tillarda aytilgan bo‘lib, keyin rivoyat qiluvchilardan biri tomonidan bir xil darajada adabiy arab tiliga o‘girilgandir (masalan, 38.10 ga qarang). Guvohlarning ovozlaridan tashqari, ular keltirgan barcha odamlarning ovozlari ham bor. Bularga xalifalar, qozilar va zindonbonlardan tortib shifokorlar, do‘kondorlar va qaroqchilargacha bo‘lgan barcha kishilar kiradi.

If the words on the page really are transcriptions of speech, each report should represent a distinct voice. In practice, though, there does not seem to be much variation in register, possibly because reports originally narrated in informal Arabic, and perhaps even other languages, have been put into literary Arabic of a more or less uniform kind by one or another of the transmitters (see, e.g., 38.10). Beyond the voices of the eyewitnesses, we also have the voices of all the people they quote. These include everyone from caliphs, judges, and jailors to doctors, grocers, and bandits.

Odatda, lekin juda qisqa bo'lsa-da, biz ayollarning ovozlarini ham eshitamiz (masalan, 61.7) va bolalarning ovozlarini (65.9). Biroq bu yerda ham, barcha bu odamlar bir xil turdagi arab tilida gapirayotganga o'xshaydi, bu esa ularga ingliz tilida alohida ovoz berishni qiyinlashtiradi.

Unusually, if all too briefly, we also hear the voices of women (e.g., 61.7) and children (65.9). Here again, though, all of these people seem to be speaking the same sort of Arabic, making it difficult to give them distinctive voices in English.

Ism bilan bog'liq yana bir muammo bor. XIX asr rus romanlaridagidek, muhim qahramonlarning barchasi bir nechta ismga ega bo'lib, mualliflar ularni tartibsiz ishlatadilar. Aslida (rus romanlarida bo'lgani kabi) biror ismning boshqasi o'rniga ishlatilishining sabablari bor. Ibn Ḥanbal haqida yozadiganlar odatda uni Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal ("Ḥanbalning avlodi Aḥmad") yoki qisqacha Aḥmad deb ataydilar.

Another problem was names. As in nineteenth-century Russian novels, all of the important characters seem to have several names, and authors seem to use them indiscriminately. In fact (as in Russian novels) there are reasons why one name might be used rather than another. In Ibn Ḥanbal’s case, those who write about him usually call him Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (“Aḥmad the descendant of Ḥanbal”), or Aḥmad for short.

Lekin uning do'stlari, hamkorlari va shogirdlari uni ʿAbū ʿAbd Allāh, ya'ni "ʿAbd Allohning otasi" deb atashgan. Bu shakl ham samimiylikni, ham hurmatni ifodalaydi. Afsuski, u Ibn Ḥanbalning o'g'li ʿAbd Allohning ismi bilan osonlikcha adashtiriladi. Shuningdek, Abū ʿAbd Allāh kitobdagi kamida ikki boshqa shaxsga ham murojaat shakli bo'lib xizmat qiladi. Ko'p o'ylab, men muqaddimada va izohlarda, uni iloji boricha aniq ko'rsatish zarur bo'lgan joylarda, uni Ibn Ḥanbal deb atashga qaror qildim, tarjimada esa iliqlik yoki hurmatni yetkazish zarur bo'lgan har bir joyda uni Aḥmad deb atadim.

But his friends, associates, and students called him ʿAbū ʿAbd Allāh, “father of ʿAbd Allāh.” This form conveys both intimacy and respect. Unfortunately, it is easily confused with ʿAbd Allāh, the name of Ibn Ḥanbal’s son. Also, Abū ʿAbd Allāh happens to be the form of address for at least two other figures in the book. After much reflection, I decided to call him Ibn Ḥanbal in the introduction and notes, where it was necessary to refer to him as unambiguously as possible, but in the translation to call him Aḥmad wherever it was necessary to convey warmth or admiration.