Conflicts of Kingship: The Symbol vs. the Administrator
A king’s symbolic and administrative functions are often at odds. Rarely do maximal efficiency and virtue go hand in hand. Consequently, depictions of ideal kingship vary considerably in terms of which quality they choose to emphasize and elevate. Two medieval treatments of kingly munificence offer a particularly clear example of this fact. The Secretum Secretorum, a tenth-century treatise falsely attributed to Aristotle, provides a cautious endorsement of generosity. At the same time, this endorsement is qualified by frequent admonishments about the perils of prodigality. In light of these warnings, ibn Shaddad’s portrayal of lavish gift-giving in his twelfth-century Rare and Excellent History of Saladin might initially read as not just excessive, but reckless. Perhaps, however, Shaddad is not condemning his royal protagonist; rather his account offers a different model of kingship altogether. While Aristotle encourages moderation and pragmatism, Shaddad idealizes a king unburdened by practicality. Aristotle’s conservatism is rooted in an understanding of kings as administrators. Shaddad, on the other hand, suggests that agents and advisors are there to carry out administrative duties so that a ruler’s piety and magnanimity can be manifested fully.
In the Secretum Secretorum, "Aristotle" frames generosity as an important kingly virtue, but one that should come at the expense of administrative efficiency or the good of the realm. He explains that generosity exists along a spectrum with meanness on one extreme and prodigality on the other and advises his pupil, Alexander the Great, “to keep the conduct straight between the two extremes” (117). Generosity is thus commended, but only conditionally. The notion that liberality is acceptable only in certain situations and degrees is reinforced by Aristotle’s diatribe against the kind of king “who squanders and makes gifts to people who are unworthy, for the man who thus spends largely wastes the treasures of the kingdom” (118). This raises the stakes of Aristotle’s initial argument for generosity in moderation, transforming it from an abstract indicator of a king’s worthiness into something with very real implications for the well-being of the state. Implicit in this directive is the message that a good king is actively engaged in administrative minutiae -- the management of his coffers, the internal stability of his realm, etc.
The attitude towards gifts, grants, and charity portrayed in Ibn Shaddad’s biography of Saladin could not adhere less to Aristotle’s instructions. In the first two pages of his account, Shaddad notes that Saladin “died leaving in his treasury in gold and silver only forty Nasiri dirhams and a single Tyrian gold piece” (19). Munificence to the point of self-impoverishment not only recurs throughout the text, it arguably becomes one of Saladin’s defining features. Time and again -- after the departure of emissaries, when engaging with supplicants, and at his death bed -- it is stressed that Saladin gives until he has nothing left. At the end of a diplomatic engagement he realized that he quite literally had nothing to bestow upon the visiting envoys “until he sold a village that belonged to the treasury and distributed the money he received for it amongst them” (25). After Aristotle’s warnings against “[wasting] the treasures of the kingdom,” Saladin’s handling of wealth feels downright irresponsible. Clearly, the reader is not the only one concerned about Saladin’s financial responsibility, as we are told that “the officials of the Royal Chest used to hide a certain amount of money from him as a precaution in case some crisis surprised them.” So incapable it seems is Saladin that his agents are essentially forced to govern responsibly behind his back.
A deeper reading, however, suggests that Shaddad views Saladin’s overzealous giving not as a flaw, but rather as a central part of what it means to be a king. At the end of Shaddad’s description of Saladin’s generosity, he concludes, “O God, You inspired in him this generosity, but You are the more generous one” (26). Generosity thus is linked with divinity. It seems, then, that to Shaddad the most important facets of kingship are serving as an ideal to one’s people and posterity. The more practical elements of governance can then be taken care of by officials (such as those who store revenue behind Saladin’s back). To Aristotle, on the other hand, the king should himself be an active administrator. While he encourages his pupil to seek advice, he cautions Alexander not to “hasten to fulfil [this advice], but tarry on it for a day and a night” before making a final decision according to his own evaluation (132). Ultimately, what we see with these texts is not a king failing to meet some fixed criteria of kingship. Rather, we are offered two separate sets of expectations—a reflection, perhaps, on the different cultures and eras from which these texts respectively come.
In the Secretum Secretorum, "Aristotle" frames generosity as an important kingly virtue, but one that should come at the expense of administrative efficiency or the good of the realm. He explains that generosity exists along a spectrum with meanness on one extreme and prodigality on the other and advises his pupil, Alexander the Great, “to keep the conduct straight between the two extremes” (117). Generosity is thus commended, but only conditionally. The notion that liberality is acceptable only in certain situations and degrees is reinforced by Aristotle’s diatribe against the kind of king “who squanders and makes gifts to people who are unworthy, for the man who thus spends largely wastes the treasures of the kingdom” (118). This raises the stakes of Aristotle’s initial argument for generosity in moderation, transforming it from an abstract indicator of a king’s worthiness into something with very real implications for the well-being of the state. Implicit in this directive is the message that a good king is actively engaged in administrative minutiae -- the management of his coffers, the internal stability of his realm, etc.
The attitude towards gifts, grants, and charity portrayed in Ibn Shaddad’s biography of Saladin could not adhere less to Aristotle’s instructions. In the first two pages of his account, Shaddad notes that Saladin “died leaving in his treasury in gold and silver only forty Nasiri dirhams and a single Tyrian gold piece” (19). Munificence to the point of self-impoverishment not only recurs throughout the text, it arguably becomes one of Saladin’s defining features. Time and again -- after the departure of emissaries, when engaging with supplicants, and at his death bed -- it is stressed that Saladin gives until he has nothing left. At the end of a diplomatic engagement he realized that he quite literally had nothing to bestow upon the visiting envoys “until he sold a village that belonged to the treasury and distributed the money he received for it amongst them” (25). After Aristotle’s warnings against “[wasting] the treasures of the kingdom,” Saladin’s handling of wealth feels downright irresponsible. Clearly, the reader is not the only one concerned about Saladin’s financial responsibility, as we are told that “the officials of the Royal Chest used to hide a certain amount of money from him as a precaution in case some crisis surprised them.” So incapable it seems is Saladin that his agents are essentially forced to govern responsibly behind his back.
A deeper reading, however, suggests that Shaddad views Saladin’s overzealous giving not as a flaw, but rather as a central part of what it means to be a king. At the end of Shaddad’s description of Saladin’s generosity, he concludes, “O God, You inspired in him this generosity, but You are the more generous one” (26). Generosity thus is linked with divinity. It seems, then, that to Shaddad the most important facets of kingship are serving as an ideal to one’s people and posterity. The more practical elements of governance can then be taken care of by officials (such as those who store revenue behind Saladin’s back). To Aristotle, on the other hand, the king should himself be an active administrator. While he encourages his pupil to seek advice, he cautions Alexander not to “hasten to fulfil [this advice], but tarry on it for a day and a night” before making a final decision according to his own evaluation (132). Ultimately, what we see with these texts is not a king failing to meet some fixed criteria of kingship. Rather, we are offered two separate sets of expectations—a reflection, perhaps, on the different cultures and eras from which these texts respectively come.
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