A Literary History of the Arabs

by Reynold Alleyne Nicholson

"I am the wine-drinker and the wine and the cup-bearer."

Thus, in the course of a century, Ṣúfiism, which at first was little more than asceticism, became in succession mystical and theosophical, and even ran the risk of being confused with pantheism. Henceforward the term Taṣawwuf unites all these varying shades. As a rule, however, the great Ṣúfís of the third century a.h. (815-912 a.d.) keep their antinomian enthusiasm under control. Most of them agreed with Junayd of Baghdád († 909 a.d.), the leading theosophist of his time, in preferring "the path of sobriety," and in seeking to reconcile the Law (sharí‘at) with the Truth (ḥaqíqat). "Our principles," said Sahl b. ‘Abdulláh al-Tustarí († 896 a.d.), "are six: to hold fast by the Book of God, to model ourselves upon the Apostle (Muḥammad), to eat only what is lawful, to refrain from hurting people even though they hurt us, to avoid forbidden things, and to fulfil obligations without delay." To these articles the strictest Moslem might cheerfully subscribe. Ṣúfiism in its ascetic, moral, and devotional aspects was a spiritualised Islam, though it was a very different thing essentially. While doing lip-service to the established religion, it modified the dogmas of Islam in such a way as to deprive them of their original significance. Thus Allah, the God of mercy and wrath, was in a certain sense depersonalised and worshipped as the One absolutely Real (al-Ḥaqq). Here the Ṣúfís betray their kinship with the Mu‘tazilites, but the two sects have little in common except the Greek philosophy.[732] It must never be forgotten that Ṣúfiism was the expression of a profound religious feeling—"hatred of the world and love of the Lord."[733] "Taṣawwuf," said Junayd, "is this: that God should make thee die to thyself and should make thee live in Him."

The further development of Ṣúfiism may be indicated in a few words.

What was at first a form of religion adopted by individuals and communicated to a small circle of companions gradually became a monastic system, a school for saints, with rules of discipline and devotion which the novice (muríd) learned from his spiritual director (pír or ustádh), to whose guidance he submitted himself absolutely. Already in the third century after Muḥammad it is increasingly evident that the typical Ṣúfí adept of the future will no longer be a solitary ascetic The development of Ṣúfiism. shunning the sight of men, but a great Shaykh and hierophant, who appears on ceremonial occasions attended by a numerous train of admiring disciples. Soon the doctrine began to be collected and embodied in books. Some of the most notable Arabic works of reference on Ṣúfiism have been mentioned already. Among the oldest are the Kitábu ’l-Luma‘, by Abú Naṣr al-Sarráj († 988 a.d.) and the Qútu ’l-Qulúb by Abú Ṭálib al-Makkí († 996 a.d.). The twelfth century saw the rise of the Dervish Orders. ‘Adí al-Hakkárí († 1163 a.d.) and ‘Abdu ’l-Qádir al-Jílí († 1166 a.d.) founded the fraternities which are called ‘Adawís and Qádirís, after their respective heads. These were followed in rapid succession by the Rifá‘ís, the Shádhilís, and the Mevlevís, of whom the last named owe their origin to the Persian poet and mystic, Jalálu ’l-Dín Rúmí († 1273 a.d.). By this time, mainly through the influence of Ghazálí, Ṣúfiism had won for itself a secure and recognised position in the Muḥammadan Church. Orthodoxy was forced to accept the popular Saint-worship and to admit the miracles of the Awliyá, although many Moslem puritans raised their voices against the superstitious veneration which was paid to the tombs of holy men, and against the prayers, sacrifices, and oblations offered by the pilgrims who assembled. Ghazálí also gave the Ṣúfí doctrine a metaphysical basis. For this purpose he availed himself of the terminology, which Fárábí (also a Ṣúfí) and Avicenna had already borrowed from the Neo-platonists. From his time forward we find in Ṣúfí writings constant allusions to the Plotinian theories of emanation and ecstasy.

Mysticism was more congenial to the Persians than to the Arabs, and its influence on Arabic literature is not to be compared with the extraordinary spell which it has cast over the Persian mind since the eleventh century of the Christian era to the present day. With few exceptions, the great poets of Persia (and, we may add, of Turkey) speak the allegorical language and use the fantastic imagery of which the quatrains of the Persian Ṣúfí, Abú Sa‘íd b. Abi ’l-Khayr,[734] afford almost the first literary example. The Arabs have only one mystical poet worthy to stand beside the Persian masters. This is Sharafu ’l-Dín ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ, who ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ. was born in Cairo (1181 a.d.) and died there in 1235. His Díwán was edited by his grandson ‘Alí, and the following particulars regarding the poet's life are extracted from the biographical notice prefixed to this edition[735]:—

"The Shaykh ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ was of middle stature; his face was fair and comely, with a mingling of visible redness; and when he was under the influence of music (samá‘) and rapture (wajd), and overcome by ecstasy, it grew in beauty and brilliancy, and sweat dropped from his body until it ran on the ground under his feet. I never saw (so his son relates) among Arabs or foreigners a figure equal in beauty to his, and I am the likest of all men to him in form.... And when he walked in the city, the people used to press round him asking his blessing and trying to kiss his hand, but he would not allow anyone to do so, but put his hand in theirs.... ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ said: 'In the beginning of my detachment (tajríd) from the world I used to beg permission of my father and go up to the Wádi ’l-Mustaḍ‘afín on the second mountain of al-Muqaṭṭam. Thither I would resort and continue in this hermit life (síyáḥa) night and day; then I would return to my father, as bound in duty to cherish his affection. My father was at that time Lieutenant of the High Court (khalífatu ’l-ḥukmi ’l-‘azíz) in Qáhira and Miṣr,[736] the two guarded cities, and was one of the men most eminent for learning and affairs. He was wont to be glad when I returned, and he frequently let me sit with him in the chambers of the court and in the colleges of law. Then I would long for "detachment," and beg leave to return to the life of a wandering devotee, and thus I was doing repeatedly, until my father was asked to fill the office of Chief Justice (Qáḍi ’l-Quḍát), but refused, and laid down the post which he held, and retired from society, and gave himself entirely to God in the preaching-hall (qá‘atu ’l-khiṭába) of the Mosque al-Azhar. After his death I resumed my former detachment, and solitary devotion, and travel in the way of Truth, but no revelation was vouchsafed to me. One day I came to Cairo and entered the Sayfiyya College. At the gate I found an old grocer performing an ablution which was not prescribed. First he washed his hands, then his feet; then he wiped his head and washed his face. "O Shaykh," I said to him, "do you, after all these years, stand beside the gate of the college among the Moslem divines and perform an irregular ablution?" He looked at me and said, "O ‘Umar, nothing will be vouchsafed to thee in Egypt, but only in the Ḥijáz, at Mecca (may God exalt it!); set out thither, for the time of thy illumination hath come." Then I knew that the man was one of God's saints and that he was disguising himself by his manner of livelihood and by pretending to be ignorant of the irregularity of the ablution. I seated myself before him and said to him, "O my master, how far am I from Mecca! and I cannot find convoy or companions save in the months of Pilgrimage." He looked at me and pointed with his hand and said, "Here is Mecca in front of thee"; and as I looked with him, I saw Mecca (may God exalt it!); and bidding him farewell, I set off to seek it, and it was always in front of me until I entered it. At that moment illumination came to me and continued without any interruption.... I abode in a valley which was distant from Mecca ten days' journey for a hard rider, and every day and night I would come forth to pray the five prayers in the exalted Sanctuary, and with me was a wild beast of huge size which accompanied me in my going and returning, and knelt to me as a camel kneels, and said, "Mount, O my master," but I never did so.'"

When fifteen years had elapsed, ‘Umar Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ returned to Cairo. The people venerated him as a saint, and the reigning monarch, Malik al-Kámil, wished to visit him in person, but ‘Umar declined to see him, and rejected his bounty. "At most times," says the poet's son, "the Shaykh was in a state of bewilderment, and his eyes stared fixedly. He neither heard nor saw any one speaking to him. Now he would stand, now sit, now repose on his side, now lie on his back wrapped up like a dead man; and thus would he pass ten consecutive days, more or less, neither eating nor drinking nor speaking nor stirring." In 1231 a.d. he made the pilgrimage to Mecca, on which occasion he met his famous contemporary, Shihábu’ l-Dín Abú Ḥafṣ ‘Umar al-Suhrawardí. He died four years later, and was buried in the Qaráfa cemetery at the foot of Mount Muqaṭṭam.

His Díwán of mystical odes, which were first collected and published by his grandson, is small in extent compared with The poetry of Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ. similar works in the Persian language, but of no unusual brevity when regarded as the production of an Arabian poet.[737] Concerning its general character something has been said above (p. 325). The commentator, Ḥasan al-Búríní († 1615 a.d.), praises the easy flow (insijàm) of the versification, and declares that Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ "is accustomed to play with ideas in ever-changing forms, and to clothe them with splendid garments."[738] His style, full of verbal subtleties, betrays the influence of Mutanabbí.[739] The longest piece in the Díwán is a Hymn of Divine Love, entitled Naẓmu ’l-Sulúk ('Poem on the Mystic's Progress'), and often called al-Tá’iyyatu ’l-Kubrá ('The Greater Ode rhyming in t'), which has been edited with a German verse-translation by Hammer-Purgstall (Vienna, 1854). On account of this poem the author was accused of favouring the doctrine of ḥulúl, i.e., the incarnation of God in human beings. Another celebrated ode is the Khamriyya, or Hymn of Wine.[740] The following versions will perhaps convey to English readers some faint impression of the fervid rapture and almost ethereal exaltation which give the poetry of Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ a unique place in Arabic literature:—

"Let passion's swelling tide my senses drown! Pity love's fuel, this long-smouldering heart, Nor answer with a frown, When I would fain behold Thee as Thou art, 'Thou shall not see Me.'[741] O my soul, keep fast The pledge thou gav'st: endure unfaltering to the last! For Love is life, and death in love the Heaven Where all sins are forgiven. To those before and after and of this day, That witnesseth my tribulation, say, 'By me be taught, me follow, me obey, And tell my passion's story thro' wide East and West.' With my Beloved I alone have been When secrets tenderer than evening airs Passed, and the Vision blest Was granted to my prayers, That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame, The while amazed between His beauty and His majesty I stood in silent ecstasy, Revealing that which o'er my spirit went and came. Lo! in His face commingled Is every charm and grace; The whole of Beauty singled Into a perfect face Beholding Him would cry, 'There is no God but He, and He is the most High!'"[742]

Here are the opening verses of the Tá’iyyatu ’l-Ṣughrá, or 'The Lesser Ode rhyming in t,' which is so called in order to distinguish it from the Tá’iyyatu ’l-Kubrá:—