Chapter VIII: Orthodoxy, Free-Thought, and Mysticism (2)

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 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.

[Sidenote: The poetry of Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ.]

His _Díwán_ of mystical odes, which were first collected and published by his grandson, is small in extent compared with 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_:--

"Yea, in me the Zephyr kindled longing, O my loves, for you;
Sweetly breathed the balmy Zephyr, scattering odours when it blew;
Whispering to my heart at morning secret tales of those who dwell
(How my fainting heart it gladdened!) nigh the water and the well;
Murmuring in the grassy meadows, garmented with gentleness,
Languid love-sick airs diffusing, healing me of my distress.
When the green slopes wave before thee, Zephyr, in my loved Ḥijáz,
Thou, not wine that mads the others, art my rapture's only cause.
Thou the covenant eternal[743] callest back into my mind,
For but newly thou hast parted from my dear ones, happy Wind!
Driver of the dun-red camels that amidst acacias bide,
Soft and sofa-like thy saddle from the long and weary ride!
Blessings on thee, if descrying far-off Túḍih at noonday,
Thou wilt cross the desert hollows where the fawns of Wajra play,
And if from ‘Urayḍ's sand-hillocks bordering on stony ground
Thou wilt turn aside to Ḥuzwá, driver for Suwayqa bound,
And Ṭuwayli‘'s willows leaving, if to Sal‘ thou thence wilt ride--
Ask, I pray thee, of a people dwelling on the mountain-side!
Halt among the clan I cherish (so may health attend thee still!)
And deliver there my greeting to the Arabs of the hill.
For the tents are basking yonder, and in one of them is She
That bestows the meeting sparely, but the parting lavishly.
All around her as a rampart edge of sword and point of lance,
Yet my glances stray towards her when on me she deigns to glance.
Girt about with double raiment--soul and heart of mine, no less--
She is guarded from beholders, veiled by her unveiledness.
Death to me, in giving loose to my desire, she destineth;
Ah, how goodly seems the bargain, and how cheap is Love
for Death![744]

Ibnu ’l-Fáriḍ came of pure Arab stock, and his poetry is thoroughly Arabian both in form and spirit. This is not the place to speak of the great Persian Ṣúfís, but Ḥusayn b. Manṣúr al-Ḥalláj, who was executed in the Caliphate of Muqtadir (922 A.D.), could not have been omitted here but for the fact that Professor Browne has already given an admirable account of him, to which I am unable to add anything of importance.[745] The Arabs, however, have contributed to the history of Ṣúfiism another memorable name--Muḥyi’l-Dín Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí, whose life falls within the final century of the ‘Abbásid period, and will therefore fitly conclude the present chapter.[746]

[Sidenote: Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí.]

Muḥyi ’l-Dín Muḥammad b. ‘Alí Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí (or Ibn ‘Arabí)[747] was born at Mursiya (Murcia) in Spain on the 17th of Ramaḍán, 560 A.H. = July 29, 1165 A.D. From 1173 to 1202 he resided in Seville. He then set out for the East, travelling by way of Egypt to the Ḥijáz, where he stayed a long time, and after visiting Baghdád, Mosul, and Asia Minor, finally settled at Damascus, in which city he died (638 A.H. = 1240 A.D.). His tomb below Mount Qásiyún was thought to be "a piece of the gardens of Paradise," and was called the Philosophers' Stone.[748] It is now enclosed in a mosque which bears the name of Muḥyi ’l-Dín, and a cupola rises over it.[749] We know little concerning the events of his life, which seems to have been passed chiefly in travel and conversation with Ṣúfís and in the composition of his voluminous writings, about three hundred in number according to his own computation. Two of these works are especially celebrated, and have caused Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí to be regarded as the greatest of all Muḥammadan mystics--the _Futúḥát al-Makkiyya_, or 'Meccan Revelations,' and the _Fuṣúṣú ’l-Ḥikam_, or 'Bezels of Philosophy.' The _Futúḥát_ is a huge treatise in five hundred and sixty chapters, containing a complete system of mystical science. The author relates that he saw Muḥammad in the World of Real Ideas, seated on a throne amidst angels, prophets, and saints, and received his command to discourse on the Divine mysteries. At another time, while circumambulating the Ka‘ba, he met a celestial spirit wearing the form of a youth engaged in the same holy rite, who showed him the living esoteric Temple which is concealed under the lifeless exterior, even as the eternal substance of the Divine Ideas is hidden by the veils of popular religion--veils through which the lofty mind must penetrate, until, having reached the splendour within, it partakes of the Divine nature and beholds what no mortal eye can endure to look upon. Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí immediately fell into a swoon. When he came to himself he was instructed to contemplate the visionary form and to write down the mysteries which it would reveal to his gaze. Then the youth entered the Ka‘ba with Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí, and resuming his spiritual aspect, appeared to him on a three-legged steed, breathed into his breast the knowledge of all things, and once more bade him describe the heavenly form in which all mysteries are enshrined.[750] Such is the reputed origin of the 'Meccan Revelations,' of which the greater portion was written in the town where inspiration descended on Muḥammad six hundred years before. The author believed, or pretended to believe, that every word of them was dictated to him by supernatural means. The _Fúṣúṣ_, a short work in twenty-seven chapters, each of which is named after one of the prophets, is no less highly esteemed, and has been the subject of numerous commentaries in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish.

[Sidenote: The doctrine of the Perfect Man.]

Curiously enough, Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí combined the most extravagant mysticism with the straitest orthodoxy. "He was a Ẓáhirite (literalist) in religion and a Báṭinite (spiritualist) in his speculative beliefs."[751] He rejected all authority (_taqlíd_). "I am not one of those who say, 'Ibn Ḥazm said so-and-so, Aḥmad[752] said so-and-so, al-Nu‘mán[753] said so-and-so,'" he declares in one of his poems. But although he insisted on punctilious adherence to the letter of the sacred law, we may suspect that his refusal to follow any human authority, analogy, or opinion was simply the overweening presumption of the seer who regards himself as divinely illuminated and infallible. Many theologians were scandalised by the apparently blasphemous expressions which occur in his writings, and taxed him with holding heretical doctrines, _e.g._, the incarnation of God in man (_ḥulúl_) and the identification of man with God (_ittiḥád_). Centuries passed, but controversy continued to rage over him. He found numerous and enthusiastic partisans, who urged that the utterances of the saints must not be interpreted literally nor criticised at all. It was recognised, however, that such high mysteries were unsuitable for the weaker brethren, so that many even of those who firmly believed in his sanctity discouraged the reading of his books. They were read nevertheless, publicly and privately, from one end of the Muḥammadan world to the other; people copied them for the sake of obtaining the author's blessing, and the manuscripts were eagerly bought. Among the distinguished men who wrote in his defence we can mention here only Majdu ’l-Dín al-Fírúzábádí († 1414 A.D.), the author of the great Arabic lexicon entitled _al-Qámús_; Jalálu ’l-Dín al-Suyúṭí († 1445 A.D.); and ‘Abdu ’l-Wahháb al-Sha‘rání († 1565 A.D.). The fundamental principle of his system is the Unity of Being (_waḥdatu ’l-wujúd_). There is no real difference between the Essence and its attributes or, in other words, between God and the universe. All created things subsist eternally as ideas (_a‘yán thábita_) in the knowledge of God, and since being is identical with knowledge, their "creation" only means His knowing them, or Himself, under the aspect of actuality; the universe, in fact, is the concrete sum of the relations of the Essence as subject to itself as object. This pantheistic monism puts on an Islamic mask in the doctrine of "the Perfect Man" (_al-Insán al-Kámil_), a phrase which Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí was the first to associate with it. The Divine consciousness, evolving through a series of five planes (_ḥaḍarát_), attains to complete expression in Man, the microcosmic being who unites the creative and creaturely attributes of the Essence and is at once the image of God and the archetype of the universe. Only through him does God know Himself and make Himself known; he is the eye of the world whereby God sees His own works. The daring paradoxes of Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí's dialectic are illustrated by such verses as these:--

He praises me (by manifesting my perfections and creating me in
His form),
And I praise Him (by manifesting His perfections and obeying Him).
How can He be independent when I help and aid Him? (because the Divine
attributes derive the possibility of manifestation from their human
correlates).
For that cause God brought me into existence,
And I know Him and bring Him into existence (in my knowledge
and contemplation of Him).[754]

Thus it is the primary function of Man to reveal and realise his Divine nature; and the Perfect Men, regarded individually, are the prophets and saints. Here the doctrine--an amalgam of Manichæan, Gnostic, Neo-platonic and Christian speculations--attaches itself to Muḥammad, "the Seal of the prophets." According to Moslem belief, the pre-existent Spirit or Light of Muḥammad (_Núr Muḥammadí_) became incarnate in Adam and in the whole series of prophets, of whom Muḥammad is the last. Muḥammad, then, is the Logos,[755] the Mediator, the Vicegerent of God (_Khalífat Allah_), the God-Man who has descended to this earthly sphere to make manifest the glory of Him who brought the universe into existence.

But, of course, Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí's philosophy carries him far beyond the realm of positive religion. If God is the "self" of all things sensible and intelligible, it follows that He reveals Himself in every form of belief in a degree proportionate to the pre-determined capacity of the believer; the mystic alone sees that He is One in all forms, for the mystic's heart is all-receptive: it assumes whatever form God reveals Himself in, as wax takes the impression of the seal.

"My heart is capable of every form,
A cloister for the monk, a fane for idols,
A pasture for gazelles, the pilgrim's Ka‘ba,
The Tables of the Torah, the Koran.
Love is the faith I hold: wherever turn
His camels, still the one true faith is mine."[756]

The vast bulk of Ibnu ’l-‘Arabí's writings, his technical and scholastic terminology, his recondite modes of thought, and the lack of method in his exposition have, until recently, deterred European Orientalists from bestowing on him the attention which he deserves.[757] In the history of Ṣúfiism his name marks an epoch: it is owing to him that what began as a profoundly religious personal movement in Islam ends as an eclectic and definitely pantheistic system of philosophy. The title of "The Grand Master" (_al-Shaykh al-Akbar_), by which he is commonly designated, bears witness to his supremacy in the world of Moslem mysticism from the Mongol Invasion to the present day. In Persia and Turkey his influence has been enormous, and through his pupil, Ṣadru ’l-Dín of Qóniya, he is linked with the greatest of all Ṣúfí poets, Jalálu ’l-Dín Rúmí, the author of the _Mathnawí_, who died some thirty years after him. Nor did all those who borrowed his ideas call themselves Moslems. He inspired, amongst other mediæval Christian writers, "the Illuminated Doctor" Raymond Lull, and probably Dante.[758]