Chapter III: Part 3

That Al-Ghazali was driven to scepticism must not surprise us. Schools of free thinkers had been established fifty years earlier at Bagdad and Busrah. Every Friday they gathered together. Some were rationalists, some downright materialists. Not only philosophers but poets were the leaders of these circles. Among them we must mention Abu’l ʾAla Al-Maʾarri, born in 973 A. D. This blind poet is said to have written a Koran in imitation of Mohammed, and when some one complained to him that although the book was well written it did not make the same impression as the true Koran, he replied: “Let it be read from the pulpit of the mosques for four hundred years and then you will all be delighted with it.” His quatrains rival those of Omar Al-Khayyam in their utter pessimism and rank infidelity from the orthodox Moslem standpoint. For example, he writes:

“Lo: there are many ways and many traps
And many guides and which of them is Lord?
For verily Mohammed has the sword
And he may have the truth—perhaps? _perhaps?_

Now _this_ religion happens to prevail
Until by _that_ one it is overthrown,—
Because men dare not live with men alone,
But always with another fairy-tale.

Religion is a charming girl, I say;
But over this poor threshold will not pass,
Because I can’t unveil her, and alas;
The bridal gift I can’t afford to pay.”

Nor could this poet have had much reverence for the religion of Islam when he wrote:

“Where is the valiance of the folk who sing
These valiant stories of the world to come?
Which they describe, forsooth, as if it swung
In air and anchored with a yard of string.”

...

“Two merchantmen decided they would battle,
To prove at last who sold the finest wares;
And while Mohammed shrieked his call to prayers,
The true Messiah waved his wooden rattle.”

As in the nineteenth century for Christianity, so in the eleventh century for Islam, the struggle between science and orthodoxy waged fiercely. The rationalistic school of the Muʾtazilites still exercised great influence while the literalists and the blind followers of traditional Islam were often more distinguished for Pharisaism than piety.

We need only turn to the “Maqamat” of Al-Hamadhani to know what the sceptic of that day thought of the public religious services.

“So I slipped away from my companions,” says his hero, “taking advantage of the opportunity of joining in public prayers, and dreading, at the same time, the loss of the caravan I was leaving. But I sought aid against the difficulty of the desert through the blessing of prayer, and, therefore, I went to the front row and stood up. The Imam went up to the niche and recited the opening chapter of the Quran according to the intonation of _Hamza_, in regard to using ‘_Madda_’ and ‘_Hamza_,’ while I experienced disquieting grief at the thought of missing the caravan, and of separation from the mount. Then he followed up the Surat Al-Fatiha with Surat Al-Waqʾia while I suffered the fire of impatience and tasked myself severely. I was roasting and grilling on the live coal of rage. But, from what I knew of the savage fanaticism of the people of that place, if prayers were cut short of the final salutation, there was no alternative but silence and endurance, or speech and the grave! So I remained standing thus on the foot of necessity till the end of the chapter. I had now despaired of the caravan and given up all hope of the supplies and the mount. He next bent his back for the two prostrations with such humility and emotion, the like of which I had never seen before. Then he raised his hands and his head and said: ‘May God accept the praise of him who praises Him,’ and remained standing till I doubted not but that he had fallen asleep. Then he placed his right hand on the ground, put his forehead on the earth and pressed his face thereto. I raised my head to look for an opportunity to slip away, but I perceived no opening in the rows, so I re-addressed myself to prayer until he repeated the _Takbir_ for the sitting posture. Then he stood up for the second prostration, recited the Suras of Al-Fatiha and Al-Qaria with an intonation which occupied the duration of the Last Day and well-nigh exhausted the spirits of the congregation. Now, when he had finished his two prostrations and proceeded to wag his jaws to pronounce the testimony to God’s unity, and to turn his face to the right and to the left for the final salutation, I said: ‘Now God has made escape easy, and deliverance is nigh’; but a man stood up and said: ‘Whosoever of you loves the companions of the Moslem community let him lend me his ears for a moment.’”—Such was the impression made by the formalities of orthodoxy!

Al-Ghazali found no help for his doubts among these scholastic theologians nor has any Moslem since his day. Professor Macdonald tells us why. “Grant the theologians their premises, and they could argue; deny them, and there was no common ground on which to meet. Their science had been founded by Al-Ashʾari to meet the Muʾtazilites; it had done that victoriously, but could do no more. They could hold the faith against heretics, expose their inconsistencies and weaknesses; but against the sceptic they could do nothing. It is true that they had attempted to go further back and meet the students of philosophy on their own ground, to deal with substances and attributes and first principles generally; but their efforts had been fruitless. They lacked the necessary knowledge of the subject, had no scientific basis, and were constrained eventually to fall back on authority.”[34]

“Nor did he find light in philosophy, although he thoroughly studied the various systems of his day and refuted them. Religion is not merely of the mind but of the heart; philosophy had its place but could satisfy only the intellect and left the deepest longings of the soul unsatisfied. Next he examined the teachings of the Taʾlimites, the contemporary sect of the Ishmaelites founded by Hassan Ibn as Sabbah. Theirs was the doctrine of an Imam or infallible spiritual guide and the sect found large following. But Al-Ghazali, so far from being attracted by them, wrote several books against them.”[35] No other path remained open for the perplexed and sceptical seeker after God than the way of the mystics. It was a return to the early teaching he received at Tus and Nishapur and to the atmosphere of his native land which was for centuries steeped in mysticism. Of this period of his life he was wont to say:

“When I wished to plunge into following the people and to drink of their drink, I looked at my soul and I saw how much it was curtained in, so I retired into solitude and busied myself with religious exercises for forty days, and there was doled to me of knowledge I had not had purer and finer than what I had known. Then I looked upon it, and lo, in it was a legal element. So I returned to solitude and busied myself with religious exercises for forty days, and there was doled to me other knowledge, purer and finer than what had befallen me at first, and I rejoiced in it. Then I looked upon it, and lo, in it was a speculative element. So I returned to solitude a third time for forty days, and there was doled to me other knowledge that is known (_i. e._, not simply perceived, felt), and I did not attain to the people of the inward sciences. So I know that writing on a surface from which something has been erased is not like writing on a surface in its first purity and cleanness, and I never separated myself from speculation except in a few things.”

Who can read this and doubt his utter sincerity in the search for God and for Truth?

He tells the rest of the story in his “Confessions”: “I saw that Sufism consists in experiences rather than in definitions, and that what I was lacking belonged to the domain, not of instruction but of ecstasy and initiation.

“The researches to which I had devoted myself, the path which I had traversed in studying religious and speculative branches of knowledge, had given me a firm faith in three things—God, inspiration, and the Last Judgment. These three fundamental articles of belief were confirmed in me, not merely by definite arguments, but by a chain of causes, circumstances, and proofs which it is impossible to recount. I saw that one can only hope for salvation by devotion and the conquest of one’s passions, a procedure which presupposes renouncement and detachment from this world of falsehood in order to turn towards eternity and meditation on God. Finally, I saw that the only condition of success was to sacrifice honours and riches and to sever the ties and attachments of worldly life.

“Coming seriously to consider my state, I found myself bound down on all sides by these trammels. Examining my actions, the most fair-seeming of which were my lecturing and professorial occupations, I found to my surprise that I was engrossed in several studies of little value, and profitless as regards my salvation. I probed the motives of my teaching and found that, in place of being sincerely consecrated to God, it was only actuated by a vain desire of honour and reputation. I perceived that I was on the edge of an abyss, and that without an immediate conversion I should be doomed to eternal fire. In these reflections I spent a long time. Still a prey to uncertainty, one day I decided to leave Bagdad and to give up everything; the next day I gave up my resolution. I advanced one step and immediately relapsed. In the morning I was sincerely resolved only to occupy myself with the future life; in the evening a crowd of carnal thoughts assailed and dispersed my resolutions. On the one side the world kept me bound to my post in the chains of covetousness, on the other side the voice of religion cried to me: ‘Up, Up, thy life is nearing its end, and thou hast a long journey to make. All thy pretended knowledge is nought but falsehood and fantasy. If thou dost not think now of thy salvation, when wilt thou think of it? If thou dost not break thy chains to-day, when wilt thou break them?’ Then my resolve was strengthened, I wished to give up all and flee; but the Tempter returning to the attack said: ‘You are suffering from a transitory feeling; don’t give way to it, for it will soon pass. If you obey it, if you give up this fine position, this honourable post exempt from trouble and rivalry, this seat of authority safe from attack you will regret it later on without being able to recover it.’

“Thus I remained, torn asunder by the opposite forces of earthly passions and religious aspirations, for about six months from the month Rajab of the year A. D. 1096. At the close of them my will yielded and I gave myself up to destiny. God caused an impediment to chain my tongue and prevented me from lecturing. Vainly I desired, in the interest of my pupils, to go on with my teaching, but my mouth became dumb.

“The enfeeblement of my physical powers was such that the doctors despairing of saving me, said: ‘The mischief is in the heart, and has communicated itself to the whole organism; there is no hope unless the cause of his grievous sadness be arrested.’

“Finally, conscious of my weakness and the prostration of my soul, I took refuge in God as a man at the end of himself and without resources. ‘He who hears the wretched when they cry’ (Koran, xxviii. 63) deigned to hear me; He made easy to me the sacrifice of honours, wealth, and family” (“The Confessions,” pp. 42-45).

That his _conversion_ did not mean ethically all that the word means in the Christian sense is evident from what immediately follows. He dissembled: “I gave out publicly that I intended to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, while I secretly resolved to go to Syria, not wishing that the Caliph (may God magnify him) or my friends should know my intention of settling in that country. I made all kinds of clever excuses for leaving Bagdad with the fixed intention of not returning thither. The Imams of Irak criticized me with one accord. Not one of them would admit that this sacrifice had a religious motive, because they considered my position as the highest attainable in the religious community. ‘Behold how far their knowledge goes’ (Koran, liii. 31). All kinds of explanations of my conduct were forthcoming. Those who were outside the limits of Irak attributed it to the fear with which the Government inspired me. Those who were on the spot and saw how the authorities wished to detain me, their displeasure at my resolution and my refusal of their request, said to themselves, ‘It is a calamity which one can only impute to a fate which has befallen the Faithful and Learning.’

“At last I left Bagdad, giving up all my fortune. Only, as lands and property in Irak can afford an endowment for pious purposes, I obtained a legal authorization to preserve as much as was necessary for my support and that of my children; for there is surely nothing more lawful in the world than that a learned man should provide sufficient to support his family. I then betook myself to Syria, where I remained for two years, which I devoted to retirement, meditation, and devout exercises. I only thought of self-improvement and discipline and of purification of the heart by prayer in going through the forms of devotion which the Sufis had taught me. I used to live a solitary life in the Mosque of Damascus, and was in the habit of spending my days on the minaret after closing the door behind me” (pp. 45-46).

When Al-Ghazali determined to abandon the world and set out as a pilgrim he was only following the custom of his time. Not only religious men but adventurers found in travel relief and recreation. The pious did it, as they asserted, in imitation of Jesus, the Messiah, whose name is often interpreted as meaning “one who travels constantly.” And the worldly-minded often donned the garb of religious fakirs to satisfy their desire for adventure and their ambition to see distant lands.

Because of facilities for travel by post and caravan routes, this period seemed one of _wanderlust_ second to none. A scholar was not satisfied unless he had seen the world of Islam. Of At-Tabrizi (A. D. 1030-1100), one of the contemporaries of Al-Ghazali, who was also professor at the Nizamiyya School, we read that when he desired to go on a journey for literary purposes “he had no money wherewith to hire a horse, so he put his book into a sack and started to walk the long journey from Persia to Syria. The sweat on his back oozed through the material of his sack and stained the precious manuscript, which was long preserved and shown to visitors in one of the libraries of Bagdad.” The Persian poet Saʾadi was left an orphan at an early age, went to Bagdad to attend the Nizamiyya University course, made the Mecca pilgrimage several times over, acted, out of charity, as a water-carrier in the markets of Jerusalem and the Syrian towns, was taken prisoner by the Franks, and forced to work with Jews at cleaning out the moats of Tripoli in Syria; he was ransomed by an Aleppan, who gave him his daughter in marriage. He himself mentions his visits to Kashgar in Turkestan, to Abyssinia, and Asia Minor. He even travelled about India, passing through Afghanistan on his way.

We have a picture of such a dervish (a dishonest one, however) in Hamadhani’s forty-second _Maqamat_: “So I started wandering, as though I was the Messiah, and I journeyed over Khorasan, its deserted and populous parts, to Kirman, Sijistan, Jilan, Tabaristan, Oman, to Sind and Hind, to Nubia and Egypt, Yemen, Hijaz, Mecca and al Taʾif. I roamed over deserts and wastes, seeking warmth and the fire and taking shelter with the ass, till both my cheeks were blackened. And thus I collected of anecdotes and fables, witticisms and traditions, poems of the humorists, the diversions of the frivolous, the fabrications of the lovesick, the saws of the pseudo-philosophers, the tricks of the conjurors, the artifices of the artful, the rare sayings of convivial companions, the fraud of the astrologers, the finesse of quacks, the deception of the effeminate, the guile of the cheats, the devilry of the fiends, such that the legal decisions of al-Shaʿabi, the memory of al-Dabbi and the learning of al-Kalbi would have fallen short of. And I solicited gifts and asked for presents. I had recourse to influence and I begged. I eulogized and satirized, till I acquired much property, got possession of Indian swords and Yemen blades, fine coats of mail of Sabur and leathern shields of Thibet, spears of al-Khatt and javelins of Barbary, excellent fleet horses with short coats, Armenian mules, and Mirris asses, silk brocades of Rum and woolen stuffs of Sus.”[36]

To the _honest_ traveller, like Al-Ghazali, however, it was not so easy a life. Not only were there the hardships of travel and its loneliness, but the asceticism of the beggar and the wayfarer. “And to such a pass did we come,” says Hariri, “through assailing fortune and prostrating need,—that we were shod with soreness, and fed on choking, and filled our bellies with ache, and wrapped our entrails upon hunger, and anointed our eyes with watching, and made pits our home, and deemed thorns a smooth bed, and came to forget our saddles, and thought destroying death to be sweet and the ordained day to be tardy.”

We may believe that so keen an observer as Al-Ghazali carried his “_Baedeker_” with him on his travels. He was doubtless acquainted with the chief geographical works of that period, some of which contained maps and even illustrations. The most important work was that by Abu ʾAbdallah al-Maqdisi, who spent a great part of his life travelling all over the Moslem empire, with the possible exception of India and Spain. His book was entitled: “The Best Classification for the Knowledge of Climates.” It was written in A. D. 985. Another work of a contemporary of Al-Ghazali, Abu ʾUbaid al-Bakri of Cordova, was a general geography of all the roads and provinces of the Moslem world.

Although we have no details of Al-Ghazali’s wanderings we can at least follow him on his journeys and learn something of the places he visited and their condition in his day. The course of his travels seems to have been from Bagdad to Damascus, a journey of nearly five hundred miles, from Damascus to Jerusalem and Hebron, thence on to the birthplace of the Prophet at Mecca and his tomb at Medina and back over a thousand miles more of caravan travel.

All through this period of Al-Ghazali’s life Damascus was experiencing the storm and stress of war. Shortly before his time the city was taken by the Karmatians and much of it was destroyed by fire. There were frequent changes of governors, uprisings and riots. In 1068 the great Mosque was set on fire. In 1076 the Seljuk generals seized the city, built anew the citadel and other buildings, among them a famous hospital. This was about fifteen years before Al-Ghazali’s arrival there from Bagdad.

The great Ummayad Mosque of Damascus was said to be the grandest of all Mohammedan buildings. There was praying space for 20,000 men; and it is said to have taken the whole revenue of Syria for forty-seven years, not counting eighteen shiploads of gold and silver from Cyprus to complete the building. “When the wondrous work was finished, the Caliph would not look at the accounts brought to him on eighteen laden mules, but ordered that they should be burned and thus addressed the crowd: ‘Men of Damascus, you possess four glories above other people; you are proud of your water, your air, your fruits, your baths; your mosque shall be your fifth glory.’”

Like other famous places of Moslem worship, this mosque was once the site of a Christian church, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, to whom there is still an imposing shrine. For some years the building was shared between Christians and Mohammedans, but in A. D. 708 the Christians were driven out. To this day one of the three minarets is called by the name of _ʾIsa_ (Jesus), and above a gate, long since closed, is the Greek inscription, “THY KINGDOM, O CHRIST, IS AN EVERLASTING KINGDOM, AND THY DOMINION ENDURETH THROUGHOUT ALL GENERATIONS.”

Al-Ghazali spent many hours for many years under the shadow of this great building, and it was in the minaret of Jesus that he had long meditations. The minaret of Jesus, according to H. Saladin,[37] was built in the eleventh century, shortly before the time of Al-Ghazali’s visit. Did he ever find or understand the inscription on the gate and meditate on that Prophet whose kingdom has no end and no frontier?

IV

Wanderings, Later Years, and Death

“Then came the immediate breaking up of the Seljukian Empire
into a number of independent principalities. Syria, Palestine,
and all Asia Minor, were partitioned among a dozen different
Turkish Emirs. Khorasan and Irak became the scene of a fierce
civil war, extending over several years, between two sons of
Malek Shah, Barkiaroc and Muhammed. Drought was added to the
horrors of war; the people perished by thousands of famine; the
incessant marching and counter-marching of the hostile armies
destroyed the remnant of food which had survived the want of
rain. To crown all, from the borders of Christendom a fresh
scourge was beheld preparing for Islam. The hosts of the Red
Cross passed the Bosphorus, and fought their way knee-deep in
blood to the walls of Jerusalem. The capture of the Holy City
struck like the point of a poisoned dagger to the heart of
every true Moslem.”

—_“Islam under the Khalifs of Baghdad,”
by Robert Durie Osborn._

IV

WANDERINGS, LATER YEARS, AND DEATH

The chronology of Al-Ghazali’s life was a puzzle even to those who wrote only a century after his death. There seems great uncertainty not only as to the time of his various journeyings but as to their order, and there is dispute even regarding the places he visited. We know that the date of his conversion was A. H. 488 (A. D. 1095), when he was thirty-eight years old, and that shortly after this he went into exile. In A. H. 498 (A. D. 1104) he is said to have returned to active life, and to have spent two years in retirement in Syria. The other dates are quite uncertain. Following the best authorities at our disposal, especially his own “Confessions,” we continue the story where we left off in the last chapter.[38]

“From Damascus,” says Al-Ghazali, “I proceeded to Jerusalem, and every day secluded myself in the Sanctuary of the Rock. After that I felt a desire to accomplish the Pilgrimage, and to receive a full effusion of grace by visiting Mecca, Medina, and the Tomb of the Prophet. After visiting the shrine of the Friend of God (Abraham), I went to the Hejaz. Finally, the longings of my heart and the prayers of my children brought me back to my country, although I was so firmly resolved at first never to revisit it. At any rate, I meant, if I did return, to live there solitary and in religious meditation; but events, family care, and vicissitudes of life changed my resolutions and troubled my meditative calm. However irregular the intervals which I could give to devotional ecstasy, my confidence in it did not diminish; and the more I was diverted by hindrances, the more steadfastly I returned to it. Ten years passed in this manner.”

According to this account his pilgrimage to Jerusalem and Hebron, to Medina and Mecca, was part of one itinerary; it also is the natural route of travel from Bagdad to the birthplace of Islam. The statement made by some authorities that he first remained ten years at Damascus is therefore probably inaccurate. If we are to believe al-Isnawi, the course of events was as follows: He set out in the year A. D. 1095 for the Hejaz. On his return from the pilgrimage, he journeyed to Damascus, and made his abode there for some years in the minaret of the Grand Mosque, composing several works of which the _Ihya_ is said to be one. Then after visiting Jerusalem and perhaps Cairo and Alexandria, he returned to his home at Tus.

According to one Arabic authority, when Al-Ghazali left Damascus in his wanderings, he was accompanied by a disciple, a certain Abu Tahir Ibrahim, who had been a pupil also at Nishapur under the great Imam; he returned afterwards to Jurjan, his native place, and died a martyr in A. H. 513. Other pupils of his at Damascus are also mentioned, but the authorities do not agree.

Among many shrines at Jerusalem, Al-Ghazali visited the Mosque of Omar, and the Dome of the Rock. In Sura xvii. 1, Mohammed is represented as having taken his flight from Mecca to Jerusalem.—“Celebrated be the praises of Him who by night took his servant from the _Masjidu ’l-Haram_ (the Sacred Mosque) to the _Masjidu ’l-Aqsa_ (the Remote Mosque), the precinct of which we have blessed.”

As-Suyuti says Jerusalem is specially honoured by Moslems as being the scene of the repentance of David and Solomon. “The place where God sent His angel to Solomon, announced glad tidings to Zacharias and John, showed David a plan of the Temple, and put all the beasts of the earth and fowls of the air in subjection to him. It was at Jerusalem that the prophets sacrificed; that Jesus was born and spoke in His cradle; and it was from Jerusalem that Jesus ascended to heaven; and it will be there that He will again descend. Gog and Magog shall subdue every place on the earth but Jerusalem, and it will be there that God Almighty will destroy them. It is in the holy land of Jerusalem that Adam and Abraham, and Isaac and Mary are buried. And in the last days there will be a general flight to Jerusalem, when the Ark and the Shechinah will be again restored to the Temple. There will all mankind be gathered at the Resurrection for judgment, and God will enter, surrounded by His angels, into the Holy Temple, when He comes to judge the earth.”

Here Al-Ghazali would see the sacred footprint of Mohammed made in the rock on his journey to heaven; the praying places of Abraham and Elijah would be pointed out to him; the round hole where the rock let Mohammed through when he ascended to heaven; the holy place in the roof of the cavern where it arose to allow him to stand erect and to pray; the tongue with which it spoke; and the marks of the Angel Gabriel’s finger where it had to be held down from following him in his ascension! The place is also pointed out by Moslems to-day where Solomon tormented the demons, and also near the eastern wall where the throne stood whereon he sat when dead, the corpse leaning on his staff to cheat the demons until the worms had gnawed it through and the body fell forward. All this is found in Moslem Tradition, and must have stirred the credulity or the scepticism of Al-Ghazali. He himself tells us in one of his books that on the last day Israfil, who, with Gabriel and Michael, has been restored to life, “standing on the rock of the temple of Jerusalem, will at the command of God call together the souls from all parts, those of believers from Paradise and the unbelievers from hell, and throw them into his trumpet. There they will be ranged in little holes, like bees in a hive, and will, on his giving the last sound, be thrust out and fly like bees, filling the whole space between earth and heaven. Then they will repair to their respective bodies. The earth will then be an immense plain without hills or villages, and the dead, after they have risen, will sit down each one on his tomb, anxiously waiting for what is to come.”[39]

A modern traveller describes other Moslem superstitions connected with this Mosque. “The little arcades at the top of the steps of the platform are called ‘Balances,’ because the scales of judgment are to be suspended there on the Great Day. The Dome of the Chain owes its name to the circumstance that there a golden chain hung at David’s place of judgment, which had to be grasped by witnesses and dropped a link when a lie was told. A place in the outer wall is shown from which a wire will be suspended on the Day of Judgment, whose other end will be made fast to the Mount of Olives. Christ will sit on the wall and Mohammed on the mount. Over this wire must all men find their way, but only the good will cross, the wicked falling into the valley beneath. In the Al-Aqsa Mosque a couple of pillars stand very near each other, so worn that they are perceptibly thinned. The space between them bulges, and a piece of spiked iron work is now inserted between them. These are another test for the final award—he who could squeeze himself between them, and he alone, had found the true ‘narrow way to heaven.’”

We have descriptions of Jerusalem by a Moslem who wrote at the end of the tenth, and by another of the middle of the eleventh century. The latter estimated the population at twenty thousand, and fancied that as many more Moslem pilgrims came to the city in the month of their pilgrimage; Christians and Jews then visited the city as they do to-day. Both these writers praise the place for its cleanliness, which they attribute to its geographical position and natural drainage. Yet the history of Jerusalem throughout this century is little more than the record of damage and repair to Christian and Moslem sanctuaries. In A. D. 1010 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was destroyed by the mad Sultan Hakim. This was followed by other humiliations of the pilgrims and persecutions, until Peter the Hermit arose in protest and the Crusades began.

We have no information as to how Al-Ghazali spent his days during this visit at Jerusalem. It was a time of war and tumult throughout Syria, on the eve of the Crusades. One can imagine with what interest Al-Ghazali studied the whole situation and how this ardent champion of the Moslem faith was stirred by the coming events whose shadows were already resting on the Holy Land at the time of his visit there. We do know that he lived the life of a mystic, and devoted himself to prayer and fasting. Prayer occupies a large place in the life of every conscientious Moslem. Not only are there the five ritual prayers, but the night prayer which, according to Al-Ghazali himself, must be performed between midnight and the beginning of dawn. It has been calculated that a Moslem conscientiously performing his devotions recites the same form of prayer at least seventy-five times a day. In addition to these prayers, however, there are prayers called _witr_ to be performed after the night prayer; _dhuha_, the prayer used in the forenoon; and the prayer of night vigils, which take place between the last evening prayer and midnight. In addition to observing all the above mentioned prayers, those who would reach a high degree of perfection are recommended by Al-Ghazali, in accordance with his own practices at this period, to engage in certain additional devotional exercises called _wird_. We may best note the character of this mystical devotion, in which he spent whole days and nights, by quoting in substance from the _Ihya_ as follows:

“From many verses of the Koran it appears that the only way of becoming united with God is constant intercourse with Him. This is the object of the devotional services called _wird_ in which the believer can engage at all times of the day as well as the night. The _wirds_ to be observed during the day are seven: First _wird_. The Moslem on rising early mentions the name of God, and praises Him, reciting certain petitions; while dressing, he recites the appointed petitions, cleans his teeth with the _miswak_, performs the _Wudhu_, then prays two Sunna _rakaʾs_ of dawn.[40] After this he repeats a petition and goes to the mosque with collected thoughts. He enters the mosque solemnly and respectfully with the right foot first, saying the appointed petitions on entering and leaving. He enters the first rank of worshippers if there be room, and prays the two _rakaʾs_ of dawn, if he has not done so already at home; then two _rakaʾs_ of ‘Saluting the Mosque,’ and sits down repeating petitions and praises, awaiting the assembling of the congregation. After having repeated the obligatory prayer of dawn, he remains sitting in the mosque till sunrise, meditating and repeating certain petitions, and praises a certain number of times, counting them by the rosary, and reciting portions of the Koran. [We know that the rosary was in general use from a reference to it in the “Assemblies” of al-Hariri, and in Al-Ghazali’s “Alchemy of Happiness.”] The second _wird_ is between sunrise and an advanced forenoon hour; the worshipper says a prayer of two _rakaʾs_, and when the sun has risen the length of a lance above the horizon two more _rakaʾs_. This is the time when the believer may perform good works, such as visiting the sick, etc. When nothing of the kind requires his attention, he spends his time in repeating petitions, in _zikr_, meditation and reading the Koran. The third _wird_ is between morning and the ascending of the sun; the believer, after taking care of his worldly affairs, engages in the devotional exercises as before mentioned. Between the time when the sun has become somewhat high and the noon prayer, four _rakaʾs_ between the _Azan_ and the _Ikama_ are said and portions of the Koran are recited; this is the fourth _wird_. The fifth, sixth and seventh occur after this until vespers. Finally there are the _wirds_ of the night which are five, divided and described as follows:—First night _wird_: after sunset, when the prayer of sunset has been performed, to the time when darkness has set in, the worshipper says two _rakaʾs_, in which certain portions of the Koran are recited, then four long _rakaʾs_, and as much of the Koran as time allows. This _wird_ may be performed at home; but it is preferable to do so in the mosque. Second night _wird_: this is from the darkness of the last _ʿIsha_ to the time when people retire to sleep. This consists of three things: (1) the obligatory _ʿIsha_ prayer; ten _rakaʾs_, viz., four before it and six after it; (2) performing a prayer of thirteen _rakaʾs_, the last of which is the _witr_ prayer. In this about three hundred verses of the Koran are to be recited. (3) The _witr_ prayer before going to sleep, unless one is accustomed to rise in the night, when it may be performed later on, which is more meritorious. Third night _wird_: this consists of sleep, and sleep may well be considered a devotional act, if enjoyed in the proper way. Fourth night _wird_: this is from the time when the first half of the night is spent to when only one-sixth of it still remains. At this time the believer ought to rise from sleep and perform the prayer of _tahajjud_. This prayer is also called the _hujud_. Mohammed mostly made it a prayer of thirteen _rakaʾs_. Fifth night _wird_: this begins with the last sixth of the night, called the _Sahar_, the early morning before dawn to the appearing of dawn.” To these devotional exercises, described in the _Ihya_, it was considered meritorious to add four additional good actions: fasting, almsgiving, visiting the sick, attending funerals; and finally all this punctilious remembrance of God through prayer was supplemented by what is called _dhikr_—the special method of worship used by the Sufi saints.

Al-Ghazali describes the method and effects of this practice in a passage which Macdonald has summarized as follows: “Let the worshipper reduce his heart to a state in which the existence of anything and its non-existence are the same to him. Then let him sit alone in some corner, limiting his religious duties to what is absolutely necessary, and not occupying himself either with reciting the Koran or considering its meaning or with books of religious traditions or with anything of the sort. And let him see to it that nothing save God most High enters his mind. Then, as he sits in solitude, let him not cease saying continuously with his tongue, ‘Allah, Allah,’ keeping his thought on it. At last he will reach a state when the motion of his tongue will cease, and it will seem as though the word flowed from it. Let him persevere in this until all trace of motion is removed from his tongue, and he finds his heart persevering in the thought. Let him still persevere until the form of the word, its letters and shape, is removed from his heart, and there remains the idea alone, as though clinging to his heart, inseparable from it. So far, all is dependent on his will and choice; but to bring the mercy of God does not stand in his will or choice. He has now laid himself bare to the breathings of that mercy, and nothing remains but to wait what God will open to him, as God has done after this manner to prophets and saints. If he follows the above course, he may be sure that the light of the Real will shine out in his heart. At first unstable, like a flash of lightning, it turns and returns; though sometimes it hangs back. And if it returns, sometimes it abides and sometimes it is momentary. And if it abides, sometimes its abiding is long, and sometimes short.”

Such is the teaching of Al-Ghazali in regard to the true life of devotion and such we may believe was his own practice at Damascus and Jerusalem during the years that followed his life of exile—the endless repetition of God’s great names and “prayer without ceasing” in the Moslem sense. One wonders what part of the day remained for the literary work and teaching in which we know he was also engaged.[41]

An interesting story is told of his life at Jerusalem in these words: “There came together the Imams Abu Hamid Al-Ghazali and Ismail Al-Kakimi and Ibrahim Ash-Shibaki and Abu-l-Hasan Al-Basri, and a large number of foreign elders, in the Cradle of ʾIsa (upon him be peace!) in Jerusalem, and he (Al-Ghazali, apparently) recited these two lines:

“‘May I be thy ransom! were it not for love thou wouldst have
ransomed me, but by the magic of two eye-pupils thou hast
taken me captive.
I came to thee when my breast was straitened through love, and
if thou hadst known how was my longing, thou wouldst have
come to me.’

Then Abu-l-Hasan Al-Basri constrained himself to an ecstasy which affected those that were present, and eyes wept and garments were rent and Mohammed Al-Kazaruni died in the midst of the assembly in ecstasy.”

In Jerusalem he is said to have written his _Risalat Al-Qudsiya_; and the date of his visit there must have been shortly before A. H. 492, for in that year Jerusalem was captured by the Crusaders.[42]

It was natural for one of Al-Ghazali’s temperament to desire to pay homage also at the tomb of Abraham, whom Moslems delight to call the “Friend of God.” The religion of Islam is continually called the religion of Abraham in the Koran. Tradition locates the so-called Machpelah Cave in the eastern part of the present-day Hebron, on the edge of the valley, and the mosque which now stands there is supposed to enclose the grave. Hebron is about seventeen miles southwest of Jerusalem. Before the twelfth century the Cave of Machpelah began to attract visitors and pilgrims. “Benjamin of Tudela relates: ‘At Hebron there is a large place of worship called “St. Abraham,” which was previously a Jewish synagogue. The natives erected there six sepulchres, which they tell foreigners are those of the Patriarchs and their wives, demanding money as a condition of seeing them. If a Jew gives an additional fee to the keeper of the cave, an iron door which dates from the time of our forefathers opens, and the visitor descends with a lighted candle. He crosses two empty caves, and in the third sees six tombs, on which the names of the three Patriarchs and their wives are inscribed in Hebrew characters. The cave is filled with barrels containing bones of people, which are taken there as to a sacred place. At the end of the field of the Machpelah stands Abraham’s house with a spring in front of it.’”[43]

The mosque of Hebron, over the tomb of Abraham, consists at present of a quadrangular platform about seventy yards long by thirty-five wide. The tomb which it covers is one of the sites which few Christian eyes have seen. It is permitted to none but Moslems to approach nearer the entrance than the seventh step of the staircase along the eastern wall.[44]

Hebron is one of the oldest cities in the world and legends of all sorts have gathered about the place. Even in Al-Ghazali’s day it was spoken of as the place of Adam’s creation and death, the scene of Abel’s murder, and the place where Abraham made his home.

After Al-Ghazali’s visit to Hebron he probably made his pilgrimage to Mecca. Whether the journey was made by sea or by land, we do not know. In any case it was full of peril at that period. Very possibly Al-Ghazali took the long caravan journey, following the route of the Damascus pilgrimage in our day. It was considered proper, however, to visit Mecca first, and Medina on the return journey. Al-Ghazali himself advises this in his directions for the correct performance of the rites of pilgrimage.[45]

In what spirit he fulfilled the rites we know from one of his spiritual teachers whose text-book on the subject Al-Ghazali had mastered. “A man who had just returned from the pilgrimage came to Junayd. Junayd said: ‘From the hour when you first journeyed from your home have you also been journeying away from all sins?’ He said ‘No.’ ‘Then,’ said Junayd, ‘you have made no journey. At every stage where you halted for the night did you traverse a station on the way to God?’ ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Then,’ said Junayd, ‘you have not trodden the road, stage by stage. When you put on the pilgrim’s garb at the proper place, did you discard the qualities of human nature as you cast off your clothes?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not put on the pilgrim’s garb. When you stood on ʾArafat, did you stand one moment in contemplation of God?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not stood at ʾArafat. When you went to Muzdalifa and achieved your desire, did you renounce all sensual desires?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not gone to Muzdalifa. When you circumambulated the Kaʾaba, did you behold the immaterial beauty of God in the abode of purification?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not circumambulated the Kaʾaba. When you ran between Safa and Marwa, did you attain to purity (_safa_) and virtue (_muruwwat_)?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not run. When you came to Mina, did all your wishes (_muna_) cease?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not yet visited Mina. When you reached the slaughter place and offered sacrifices, did you sacrifice the objects of worldly desire?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not sacrificed. When you threw the pebbles, did you throw away whatever sensual thoughts were accompanying you?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then you have not yet thrown the pebbles, and you have not yet performed the pilgrimage.’”

Such was the mystical interpretation of the rites at Mecca taught by the Sufis to their disciples.

Mecca, when Al-Ghazali made the pilgrimage, was under the rule of the Sherif Abu Hashim (A. D. 1063-1094). Half a century earlier the Karmathians, perhaps the most fanatic of all Moslem sects, had besieged Mecca, captured the city, murdered the pilgrims by thousands, and carried away the famous black stone to Bahrein on the Persian Gulf.[46] By taking away this sacred treasure they hoped to put an end to the pilgrimage, but were disappointed. In A. D. 950 the stone was returned for a heavy ransom.[47] It was because of the constant disputes between the Caliphs of Bagdad and Egypt that the defense of the holy cities was finally given into the hand of the Sherifs.

Abu Hashim was a time-server, and cared more for bribes than for religion, according to the testimony of Arabian chroniclers. In A. D. 1070 he changed the name of the Fatimide Sultans for that of the Abbassides at Friday prayers, and received much bounty. In 1075 he sold the same privilege to the Fatimides, and in 1076 to the Caliphs of Bagdad. This conduct so enraged the Sultan of Bagdad that in 1091 he sent bands of Turkomans against Mecca.

Chronicles of the holy city during this period show that the pilgrimage was accompanied by grave dangers because of Bedouin robbers as well as disturbances in Mecca itself. Sometimes these uprisings were directed by Abu Hashim himself, as was the case in A. D. 1094.[48]

Just about the time of Al-Ghazali’s visit, the various buildings at Mecca and the _Beit Allah_ itself, had been repaired and beautified. The four _maqams_ or places of prayer for the orthodox sects as they now stand were built in A. H. 1074. The place of the Shafiʿ sect to which Al-Ghazali belonged, is directly over the well of Zem Zem, to which it serves as an upper chamber. The building, erected in 1072, is in use to-day. The great pulpit of white marble was sent to Mecca in A. H. 969 by the Sultan of Egypt. It is still in use. Perchance Al-Ghazali ascended these very stairs and addressed the pilgrims. In A. D. 1030 a violent torrent swept over Mecca, and nearly ruined the Kaʾaba. The repairs were not finished until 1040.[49]

With his religious pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina it seems that Al-Ghazali’s life of strict retirement ended, except for his visit to Alexandria and beyond. Apparently he proposed to make a journey to Spain and the great Sultan of the West, Yusuf bin Tashfin, on whose behalf he had given _Fatwas_ or religious decisions, but the news of the Sultan’s death put an end to his plans, according to some authorities. Others say that at this time he was summoned to teach again at Nishapur.

The details of his life during the mysterious ten years of his wanderings are most conflicting. According to ʿAbd al-Ghafir, a personal friend of Al-Ghazali, he went a second time to Mecca, afterwards to Syria, and then wandered from shrine to shrine for nearly ten years. Next to “The Confessions,” the best authority on his life is undoubtedly this same ʿAbd al-Ghafir. What he tells us of Al-Ghazali’s life must have been gained from personal knowledge, or go back immediately to Al-Ghazali himself. “According to him, Al-Ghazali set out on pilgrimage to Mecca, then went to Syria, and remained there wandering from place to place and shrine to shrine nearly ten years. At this time he composed several of his works, the _Ihya_ and books abbreviated from it, such as the _Arbaʾin_ and the _Rasaʾil_; besides labouring at his own spiritual advancement and growth through the religious exercises of the Sufis. Then he returned to his home and lived there a retired life for some time, absorbed in meditation, but gradually becoming more and more sought after as a teacher and guide to the spiritual life. At length Fakhr al-Mulk ʾAli b. Nizam Al-Mulk Jamal Ash-Shuhada, who had previously been Wazir to Barqiyaruq, became Wazir to Sinjar the son of Malik Shah at Nishapur, and by him such pressure was put on Al-Ghazali that he finally consented to resume teaching in the Maymuna Nizamiyya Madrasa there.”[50]

We have reference to but no detail of Al-Ghazali’s visit to Cairo, the great centre of Moslem architecture and learning in the West, as Bagdad was in the East. Nor, strange to say, have I found reference in his works to this visit. It is possible that he was not received altogether with favour by the religious leaders of Al-Azhar at the time, but his reputation was already world-wide, and many of his pupils at Bagdad and Nishapur were from Egypt and North Africa.

At the time of Al-Ghazali’s visit, Cairo was still the great centre of Arab civilization, and had all the glory which the Fatimid dynasty had bestowed upon it. The splendid palaces of the Caliphs formed the central portion of the town. The three massive gates which still command admiration at the present day, Bab Al-Futuh, Bab Al-Nasr and Bab Az-Zuwaila, led into the city. In A. D. 1087 the walls were rebuilt, and these massive gateways constructed along with others which are no longer standing. In the vault of the archways of these gates, there used to be two chambers, and these were used by the Egyptian sovereigns and their friends to watch the various spectacles, especially the departure and return of the sacred carpet.

The intellectual and religious life of the city centred in the great mosque of Al-Azhar, which had been completed in A. D. 1012. Cairo was not yet the economic centre for all Egypt which it became later, but it was the seat of a splendid court, with military pageantry, as well as a centre of religious learning. Ibn Tuwair and others have given us vivid pictures of the ceremonial processions and festivals, the magazines, treasuries, stables, and royal household.

As for Alexandria, where we _know_ Al-Ghazali lived for some time before his return to Syria, it did not have a high reputation at that time for learning. It was rather a port of trade, from which men passed on to Misr (Cairo) or went by sea to Syria. Hamadhani makes one of his characters say:

“I am of the citizens of Alexandria,
Of sound and pure stock among them,
The age and the people thereof are stupid,
Therefore I made my stupidity my steed!”

But in Moslem tradition, Alexandria has high honour. Moslems show the tomb of Daniel the prophet, also that of Alexander the Great whose story is told in the Koran. Alexandria also boasts two celebrated Walis or holy men. One is Mohammed al Busiri, the author of the poem called Al Burdah, universally celebrated; and the other Abu Abbas Al-Andalusi, at whose tomb prayer is never offered in vain. There is also a prophecy that when Mecca falls into the hands of the infidels Alexandria will succeed to its honours.[51]

From Alexandria Al-Ghazali went to Damascus and then to Nishapur and from there to Bagdad, or from Damascus direct to Bagdad, where he taught the _Ihya_ and preached. As-Subki tells us that the people crowded to hear him, and that notes of his sermons to the number of 183 were taken by one of those present, who read them to Al-Ghazali before they were circulated.

The following story is told of his life at this time: Once while teaching the _Ihya_ at Bagdad, he began to quote: “He has made beloved the homes of men, as abodes of desire which the heart has decreed; whenever they remember their homes these remind them of the pledges of youth there, and they long thither.” Then he wept, and those present wept with him. Thereafter some one saw him in the open country with a patched dervish-garment on, a water-vessel and an iron-shod staff in his hand,—all in strange contrast to the states in which he had seen him before, with three hundred pupils around him, including one hundred of the chief men of Bagdad. So he said, “O Imam, is not the teaching of science more fitting?” But Al-Ghazali looked at him with red eyes and said, “When the full moon of happiness rises in the firmament of will, the sun of setting departs in the East of union.” Then he recited, “I abandoned the love of Layla and my happiness was far, and I returned to the companionship of my first alighting-place; then cried to me my longings, ‘Welcome! these are the alighting-places of her whom thou lovest, draw up and alight.’”

Of his spiritual experiences during these ten years of retirement and wandering, and during the years that followed, when he taught others the way of the mystic, we will speak later.