Part 1

WISDOM OF THE EAST

THE PERSIAN MYSTICS

JALÁLU'D-DÍN RÚMÍ

BY F. HADLAND DAVIS

AUTHOR OF "IN THE VALLEY OF STARS

THERE IS A TOWER OP SILENCE"

LONDON

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.

1920

TO

A. T. K.

THIS LITTLE BOOK OF EASTERN WISDOM

IS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED

"OUR JOURNEY IS TO THE ROSE-GARDEN OF UNION" JALÁLU'D-DÍN RÚMÍ.

PREFACE

I desire to thank Mr. R. A. Nicholson for his kind and generous permission to use selections from his _Dīvāni Shamsi Tabrīz_, and also his publishers, the Cambridge Press. I am deeply indebted to Mr. E. H. Whinfield for allowing me to use quotations from his rendering of the _Masnavi_ (Trübner's Oriental Series). I also cordially thank Mr. John Hastie for giving me permission to quote a few passages from the late Rev. Professor Hastie's "Festival of Spring" (James Maclehose and Sons, Glasgow). The poems quoted from this volume are entitled: "Thy Rose," "I saw the Winter weaving," "Love sounds the Music of the Spheres," "The Souls Love-moved," and "The Beloved All in All." All the other translations from the lyrical poetry of Jalálu'd-Dín Rúmí are by Mr. R. A. Nicholson. To these gentlemen, and to those I have left unnamed, I tender my warmest thanks for their help, sympathy, and interest in my attempt to "popularise the wisest of the Persian Súfís."

F. HADLAND DAVIS.

LONDON, _January_ 22, 1907.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. ORIGIN OF SÚFÍISM II. THE EARLY SÚFÍS III. THE NATURE OF SÚFÍISM IV. THE INFLUENCE OF SÚFÍISM V. ANALYSIS OF THE RELIGION OF LOVE

THE LIFE AND WORK OF JALÁLU'D-DÍN RÚMÍ

I. LIFE II. SHAMSI TABRĪZ III. THE STORIES OF AL-AFLĀKÍ AND THE DEATH OF JALÁLU'D-DÍN RÚMÍ IV. THE NATURE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF JALÁLU'D-DÍN RÚMÍ'S POETRY

SELECTIONS FROM THE "DĪVĀNI SHAMSI TABRĪZ" SELECTIONS FROM THE "MASNAVI" APPENDIX: A NOTE ON PERSIAN POETRY

EDITORIAL NOTE

The object of the Editors of this series is a very definite one. They desire above all things that, in their humble way, these books shall be the ambassadors of good-will and understanding between East and West--the old world of Thought and the new of Action. In this endeavour, and in their own sphere, they are but followers of the highest example in the land. They are confident that a deeper knowledge of the great ideals and lofty philosophy of Oriental thought may help to a revival of that true spirit of Charity which neither despises nor fears the nation of another creed and colour.

L. CRANMER-BYNG. S. A. KAPADIA.

NORTHBROOK SOCIETY, 21, CROMWELL ROAD, KENSINGTON, S.W.

INTRODUCTION

I. THE ORIGIN OF SÚFÍISM

Among the Mohammedans Súfíism, or Persian mysticism, is known as _tasawwuf_. The word Sidi is derived from _súf_, meaning "wool." When a little Persian sect at the end of the eighth century A.D. broke away from the orthodox Muslim religion, and struck out on an independent path, they ignored costly robes and worldly ostentation, and clad themselves in a white wool garment. Hence they were known as "wool wearers," or Súfís.

Prof. Edward G. Browne[1] gives four theories in regard to the origin of Súfíism, viz.: (1) _Esoteric Doctrine of the Prophet_.(2) _Reaction of the Aryan mind against a Semitic religion_. (3) _Neo-Platonist influence_.(4) _Independent origin_. Neither of the four theories altogether satisfies the learned professor, and very certain it is that the last-mentioned theory is of very little account. Prof. Browne seems in favour of a "spontaneous growth" existing in various forms, under various names throughout the civilised world; but after all this is not very tangible evidence. Moreover, we must bear in mind that the Neo-Platonist philosophers paid a visit to the Persian court in the sixth century A.D., and founded a school there in the reign of Núshír-wan. It is highly probable, therefore, that these seven philosophers, forced to leave their homes through the tyranny of Justinian, who forbade the teaching of philosophy at Athens, should have had considerable influence upon a few of the more thoughtful Persians. We shall now find that this theory is borne out by internal evidence.

Let us briefly study the tenets of Neo-Platonism. The Neo-Platonists believed in the Supreme Good as the Source of all things. Self-existent, it generated from itself. Creation was the reflection of its own Being. Nature, therefore, was permeated with God. Matter was essentially non-existent, a temporary and ever-moving shadow for the embodiment of the Divine. The Neo-Platonists believed that by ecstasy and contemplation of the All-Good, man would rise to that Source from whence he came. These points bear directly upon the Súfí teaching. They form a broad outline of the tenets of Súfíism. The Súfís, from temperamental and other causes, elaborated these ideas, gave them a rich and beautiful setting, and, what is all-important, built about them one of the most interesting phases of mystical poetry the world has ever known, and this particular phase may be said to date from the twelfth century A.D.

Thus, I think, it will be readily admitted that the Súfís certainly owed something to the Neo-Platonists. The cry for the Beloved was in their hearts before the Greek philosophers came; but Neo-Platonism appealed to their Oriental minds. It was a stepping-stone across the river of their particular spiritual tendencies, and they trod thereon, and proceeded to lay down other stones across the stream. I have pointed out the similarities between this particular Greek and Persian belief. There was, however, one very important difference. The Neo-Platonist's conception of God was purely abstract, the Súfí's essentially personal, as far as the early Súfís were concerned. We shall consider other influences which were brought to bear upon Súfíism a little later on. There is a very great difference between the early Súfíism and the elaborate additions that followed as an evolutionary matter of course.

In brief, then, Neo-Platonism was the doctrine of Ecstasy. A quotation from the letter of Plotinus to Flaccus on Ecstasy will still further show the similarities between this Greek and Persian teaching:

"The wise man recognises the idea of the Good within him. This he develops by withdrawal into the Holy Place of his own soul. He who does not understand how the soul contains the Beautiful within itself, seeks to realise beauty without, by laborious production. His aim should rather be to concentrate and simplify, and so to expand his being; instead of going out into the Manifold, to forsake it for the One, and so to float upwards towards the Divine Fount of Being whose stream flows within him."

This is Súfíism in prose. The Súfí turned the same conception into _poetry_.

II. THE EARLY SÚFÍS.

Abú Hashím (ob. 150 A.H.) was the first to bear the name of Súfí, while Dhu'l-Nún-al-Misri (245 A.H.) may be said to have given Súfíism its permanent shape. Rābi'a, of Basra, was the first woman to join the sect, and her saintliness and wise sayings have been preserved by Farídu'd-Dín 'Attár. One day a great sickness fell upon Rabi'a, and on being asked the reason for it she replied: "I dwelt upon the joys of Paradise and therefore my Beloved has chastened me."

Rābi'a did not believe in earthly marriage. Her remark on the subject is given as follows: "The bonds of wedlock have descended upon me. I am not my own, but my Lord's, and must not be unfaithful to Him." 'Attár also informs us that when Rābi'a was asked if she hated the devil, she replied: "My love to God leaves me no time to hate him." Rābi'a was a woman of much independence of thought, ethical rather than metaphysical in her remarks, and strongly opposed to outward ceremonials. She is said to have died at Jerusalem, 753 A.D. It was at Ramla, in Palestine, that a Christian nobleman built a convent (_Khāngāh_) for the Súfís. Thus in the early days the sect defied their Prophet's condemnation of monkery by building an abode for members of the order. The Súfís were strongly opposed to the idea of free-will or distinct and self-existent personality apart from the Beloved. The orthodox Muslim's idea was precisely the reverse. The Súfís have always made the Koran their text-book. With infinite licence they ingeniously quote therefrom, and still more ingeniously add their own explanations when necessary. No doubt there were political reasons for adopting this method of concealing heterodox ideas under the cloak of orthodoxy. We shall see, however, as the sect grew and still further broadened its views, that these clever compromises did not prevent the appearance of martyrs among their number in the future.

By the end of the second century of the Hijira the Súfís were a much-respected religious order. In the following century Quietism had not only changed to Pantheism, but Pantheism had kindled a belief that Beloved and lover were identical. The step was inevitable and at this juncture it was that Súfíism became essentially mystical, and it became more mystical as years advanced. About this time, viz., the beginning of the third century A.H., we come across two interesting Súfís who seem to have been the prime movers in this new development, by name Bayázíd and Mansur al-Halláj.

Concerning the saint Bayázíd an interesting story is told in the Fourth Book of the _Masnavi_. The saint surprised his disciples one day by saying: "Lo, I myself am God Almighty. There is no God beside me; worship me!" The disciples, thinking their Master was beside himself, told him, when the strange ecstasy had passed, what he had said. Bayázíd promptly replied: "If I do so again straightway slay me!" His disciples accordingly sharpened their knives. Once more Bayázíd cried out: "Within my vesture is naught but God, whether you seek Him on earth or heaven." The disciples, horror-struck at his remarks, straightway plunged their knives into Bayázíd's body. But their blades were turned back against their own throats, so that they died. He explained to the few disciples, who had not struck him, that the ecstasy he had been experiencing annihilated self, "His form is vanished, he is a mere mirror." The disciples who had struck him saw their own faces in that mirror and so wounded themselves, and not Bayázíd, whose soul had left the mirror of his body and was one with the Beloved.

Perhaps the life of Mansur al-Halláj is even more interesting. Whether he was a mere adventurer or genuine exponent of Súfíism is still open to controversy among modern Súfís. It will be perfectly safe to describe him as either a saint or a vagabond. He was possibly both extremes to suit the necessities of a very exciting and eventful career. He was born in the close of the ninth century A.D., and was said to perform many miracles, such as raising the dead to life, and drawing gold and flowers from the air. According to his own belief he could write verses equal to those of the Koran. He went one better than the "superman" theory, however, and called himself God, and his disciples after the various prophets. Akbar was called God, but deification in this case did not sound from his own trumpet; it sounded from the trumpet of an enthusiastic poet: "See Akbar and you see God." Al-Halláj visited India for the purpose of studying magic, and there saw the celebrated Rope Trick, on that occasion performed by a woman, a point of considerable interest.[2] This mystic-adventurer wrote forty-six books, and certainly gained considerable influence over the lower classes by his many signs and wonders. He is said to have disputed the necessity of making a pilgrimage to Mecca by stating that by occult practices it could be performed equally well in any room. On a certain occasion, however, we cannot help but admire Al-Halláj's wit and aptitude. One day he stretched forth an empty hand and produced from the air an apple, which he asserted he had plucked from Paradise. One of his witnesses disputed his assertion, because this particular apple was maggot-eaten, and therefore not of Divine origin. Al-Halláj at once replied: "It is because it bath come forth from the Mansion of Eternity to the Abode of Decay: therefore to its heart hath corruption found its way!"

Al-Halláj, on account of his various heretical teachings, was imprisoned and subjected to all manner of cruelties. Bravely he went forth to the place of crucifixion. For four days he was nailed on a cross on both sides of the Tigris. From these tortures he was finally released. Ten years later he was executed, telling his disciples he would return to them in thirty days, and exultantly reciting poetry, he cried: "From His own cup He bade me sup, for such is hospitality!" A comment of his on Súfíism--a very ironical one--was: "That which is mine, for by God I never distinguished for a moment between pleasure and pain!" Yet another characteristic saying of his was: "The way to God is two steps: one step out of this world and one step out of the next world, and lo! you are there with the Lord!" Whatever were the faults of Al-Halláj, and they were many, at least it may be said of him that he was a brave man. With all his fanaticism, his absurd indiscretion and love of conjuring, he left much behind of permanent value to the Súfís. The Government, in those days, did all in its power to restrain the publicity of his books; but a light that was never for a moment set under a bushel cannot be hid; the very attempt to obliterate it is in itself the cause for a keener and more persistent search.

In the fifth century of the Hijira we may note Abu-l-Khair as the first to give Súfíism politic significance, and Imān Ghazālī as the first to give it a metaphysical basis. At this time we find in Súfí books many terms borrowed from the Neo-Platonists. Books on ethics, as well as poetry, now became impregnated with Súfí ideas.

III. THE NATURE OF SÚFÍISM

The Súfís are folk who have preferred God to everything, so that God has preferred them to everything.--DHU'L-NUN.[3]

In the Islám faith there are eight Paradises arranged one within the other in ascending stages. The highest is called "The Garden of Eden." All are lovely gardens full of luxuriant flowers and trees, amid which gleam the domes and minarets of gorgeous palaces, rich with precious stones, where the departed are feasted and entertained by beautiful _houris_. All the Paradises are watered by rivers, such as the Kevser, the Tesním, and the Selsebíl. The great Tūba tree grows in the highest Paradise; its branches fall into the seven other gardens.[4] This brief description will be sufficient to show the nature of the Muslim heaven. That it was a glorified creation of the earth in eight degrees is evident. It was sensuous rather than metaphysical. The five worlds of the Súfís are:

1. The "Plane of the Absolute Invisible." 2. The "Relatively Invisible." 3. The "World of Similitudes." 4. The "Visible World" (or the plane of "Form, Generation and Corruption"). 5. The "World of Man."

These Five Planes are often regarded as Three: the "Invisible," the "Intermediate," and the "Visible," or yet again as simply the "Visible" and "Invisible." Above the "Plane of the Absolute Invisible" is an infinity which we might, perhaps, compare with Dante's "Spaceless Empyrean." The Súfís regarded the existence of the soul as pre-natal. Moreover that the full perception of Earthly Beauty was the remembrance of that Supreme Beauty in the Spiritual world. The body was the veil; but by ecstasy (_Hál_) the soul could behold the Divine Mysteries. As Avicenna, in his poem on the soul, has written:

Lo, it was hurled Midst the sign-posts and ruined abodes of this desolate world. It weeps, when it thinks of its home and the peace it possessed, With tears welling forth from its eyes without pausing or rest, And with plaintive mourning it broodeth like one bereft O'er such trace of its home as the fourfold winds have left.

Creation was regarded as the output of the All-Beautiful. The visible world and all therein was a reflection of the Divine, an ever-changing scene full of the Spirit of God. The following beautiful poem of Jámí, from _Yúsuf-u-Zulaykhá_, will illustrate the Súfí's conception of the Beloved and His significance and relationship to His world of lovers:

No mirror to reflect Its loveliness, Nor comb to touch Its locks; the morning breeze Ne'er stirred Its tresses; no collyrium Lent lustre to Its eyes; no rosy cheeks O'ershadowed by dark curls like hyacinth, Nor peach-like down were there.... To Itself it sang of love In wordless measure. By Itself it cast The die of love.... One gleam fell from It on the Universe And on the angels, and this single ray Dazzled the angels, till their senses whirled Like the revolving sky. In diverse forms Each mirror showed it forth, and everywhere Its praise was chanted in new harmonies. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The spirits who explore the depths Of boundless seas, wherein the heavens swim Like some small boat, cried with one mighty voice, "Praise to the Lord of all the universe!" His beauty everywhere doth show itself, And through the forms of earthly beauties shines Obscured as through a veil.... Where'er thou seest a veil, Beneath that veil He hides. Whatever heart Doth yield to love, He charms it. In His love The heart hath life. Longing for Him, the soul Hath victory.[5]

Man was, therefore, a part of God, because he was a fragment of the Whole; or, better still, he was a divine emanation.[6] The Súfí recognised this fact, and his supreme desire was to be reunited with the Beloved. His difficulty, however, was to bear in mind that his worship should ever be of God, and not of God's many beautiful forms. Love came into his heart, and he endeavoured to recognise that earthly objects, however dear and beautiful they might be, were but lanterns where God's Light shone through. Here it must be readily admitted that Súfíism often fails. The Súfí poets were much given to excessive laudations of physical beauty, and we often find, with all the toleration and ingenuity we can bring to bear, that some of Háfiz's lines are no more spiritual than Anacreon's, to whom he has been compared. We have a number of Súfí words with a strictly Súfí meaning; but it would not be wise to strain the analogy of earthly love too far and say that everything that Háfiz wrote was spiritual. The Súfí poets, for the most part, wrote about the Love of God in the terms applied to their beautiful women, for the simple reason that no one can write the celestial language and be understood at the same time. Is it to be wondered at that the Súfís, still remembering their old love-songs, their old earthly delights in women dear to them, should find it difficult _not_ to apply such names, such ideas even in their love of the One Beloved? Take those expressions literally and many of them are sensuous, but consider them as brave, strong strivings, fraught with much spiritual fervour, after God, and you at once annihilate prejudice and come very near understanding the meaning of Súfíism. We need not fly to Mrs. Grundy and seek shelter under her hypocritical wing when some really devout and sincere Súfí calls God "the Eternal Darling" or sings about the Beloved's curls. In studying Súfíism from Súfí poetry we must always remember that Eastern poetry is essentially erotic in expression, but just as essentially symbolic in _meaning_. We must also bear in mind--and this point must have had its influence upon Súfíism--that the Muslim's reward for having lived a good life, according to the teaching of Mohammed, was that he should enjoy an eternal _liaison_ with lovely _houris_.

It may be questioned that if the earthly object of Love was a mere passing shadow of God, the man who loved that object was equally insignificant. And again, how can God be the All-One when, according to the Súfí thesis, He divided Himself into creation? The part is not equal to the whole. These questions are easily answered. The stars shine in the sky, and on the bosom of the sea without diminution. Let the sea pass away, and the star-shadows pass away too; but the stars are still there. So when the world shall pass away it will only be the fading of innumerable shadows we call Humanity. God will still be there, and we shall still be there because we came alone from Him. There was a Voice that sounded in men and women, in mountains and in seas, in the beasts of the jungle and the swinging of the stars. It was the Voice of Love, the great beckoning in the Hereafter to which all things must go. That Voice to the Súfí was God calling His lovers into one chamber, one mighty love-feast. Jámí has expressed the finality of Love in the following lines:

Gaze, till Gazing out of Gazing Grew to BEING Her I gaze on, She and I no more, but in One Undivided Being blended. All that is not One must ever Suffer with the Wound of Absence; And whoever in Love's City Enters, finds but Room for One, And but in ONENESS Union.

The Rev. Professor W. R. Inge, in _Christian Mysticism_, has brought a good deal of adverse criticism to bear upon Súfíism. He remarks: "The Súfís, or Mohammedan Mystics, use erotic language very freely, and appear, like true Asiatics, to have attempted to give a sacramental or symbolic character to the indulgence of their passions." The same writer accuses Emerson of "playing with pantheistic Mysticism of the Oriental type," and goes on to compare him with the Persian Súfís on account of his self-deification. This critic, in his desire to defame the Súfís, states that they are among the most shocking and blasphemous of the mystics, because they believe that state is present with them even in their earthly life. This, however, is no teaching of the Súfís, and, rightly considered, we cannot even except the sayings of Bayázíd already referred to, because here he undoubtedly denies all claim to human personality, admitting God only. _Self_-deification is no teaching of the Súfís. As the Buddhist's belief in Nirvana was a state only to be reached by degrees, after much striving and severe discipline, so was the fusion of the Beloved and His lover a belief and a beautiful hope far out on the spiritual horizon. Hadj Khan, in his interesting book _With the Pilgrims to Mecca_, briefly touches upon this sect and mentions "seven stages" in the spiritual growth of the Súfí, and not an arrogant proclamation of Deity and man being coequal in the earthly existence. The gradually ascending scale of the Súfí's heaven is another point in favour of this argument. "For the love that thou would'st find demands the sacrifice of self to the end that the heart may be filled with the passion to stand within the Holy of Holies, in which alone the mysteries of the True Beloved can be revealed unto thee." The average Súfí was a poet. All that was beautiful was God to him. He tried to be nearer the Beautiful every day, and thus his soul swept on from flower to flower, higher and higher, until he was absorbed into the Divine.

We have now seen that Súfíism is essentially a religion of Love without a creed or dogma. No merciless hells leap up in the Súfí's beliefs. He has no _one way_ theory for the Life beyond: "The ways of God are as the number of the souls of men." There is splendid, magnificent broad-mindedness in this Súfí remark. This unsectarian teaching should be applied to every religion. It would tend to sweeten and deepen the thoughts of men, who would forget the petty non-essentials of creeds and dogmas, lost in the perception of the All-Beautiful.

IV. THE INFLUENCE OF SÚFÍISM

This love here forms the centre which expands on all sides and into all regions.--HEGEL.