As for the scribes, some maintain that they need learn nothing beyond the bare limits of penmanship, imagining this alone makes them fit to serve the great. The sages and early kings, however, held that a scribe ought to be versed in ten distinct fields:
- How far below the surface water lies and the techniques for bringing it up.
- The fluctuation of night and day— their lengthening and shortening through summer and winter—together with the courses of the sun, the moon, and the stars.
- The science of conjunctions and oppositions of the heavenly bodies.
- Finger-reckoning.
- Geometrical calculation.
- Calendar computation, the choice of auspicious days, and whatever benefits farmers.
- Medicine and pharmacology.
- The characteristics of the south and north winds.
- The art of poetry and its metres.
- Rhyme.
With all this, the scribe should be cheerful in spirit, pleasant to meet, and thoroughly skilled in paring, preparing, cutting, lifting, and guiding his pen. Whatever lies in his heart he must make manifest with the point of that pen, taking care that his writing be orderly and continuous, each letter receiving its due.
It is related that a governor under the Commander of the Believers ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb—may Allah be pleased with him—once wrote to ʿAmr ibn al-ʿĀṣ a letter in which the letter sīn of the phrase “Bism Allāh al-Raḥmān al-Raḥīm” was missing. ʿAmr summoned him and said, “First make the sīn of ‘Bism Allāh’ appear; only then return to your post.”
The very first skill a scribe must learn is how to trim his pen; when a man has a fine hand and knows how to shape his pen, good writing will follow of itself.
A tale is told. The Shahanshah had ten ministers, among them the celebrated al-Ṣāḥib Ismāʿīl ibn ʿAbbād. The ministers conspired to bring him low and agreed upon a slander, saying, “The Ṣāḥib cannot even sharpen his own pen.” When the Shahanshah heard of this he assembled them. The Ṣāḥib said to them, “Which of you possesses learning equal to mine, that you dare speak of me in the presence of the Shahanshah? My father taught me statesmanship, not shopkeeping; the least of my accomplishments is the paring of a pen. Can any one of you write a complete document with a pen whose tip has been broken?” They were speechless. The Shahanshah then said to him, “Write.” The Ṣāḥib took a pen, deliberately broke its tip, and with it wrote an entire scroll, perfect in every respect. The others admitted his superiority and acknowledged his rectitude and nobility.