Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org (Images generously made available by the Internet Archive) WISDOM OF THE EAST THE PERSIAN MYSTICS JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ 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" JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ. PREFACE I desire to thank Mr. R. A. Nicholson for his kind and generous permission to use selections from his _DÄ«vÄni Shamsi TabrÄ«z_, 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_ (TrÃ¼bner'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 JalÃ¡lu'd-DÃ­n RÃºmÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­s." F. HADLAND DAVIS. LONDON, _January_ 22, 1907. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION I. ORIGIN OF SÃFÃISM II. THE EARLY SÃFÃS III. THE NATURE OF SÃFÃISM IV. THE INFLUENCE OF SÃFÃISM V. ANALYSIS OF THE RELIGION OF LOVE THE LIFE AND WORK OF JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ I. LIFE II. SHAMSI TABRÄªZ III. THE STORIES OF AL-AFLÄKÃ AND THE DEATH OF JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ IV. THE NATURE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ'S POETRY SELECTIONS FROM THE "DÄªVÄNI SHAMSI TABRÄªZ" 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 SÃFÃISM Among the Mohammedans SÃºfÃ­ism, or Persian mysticism, is known as _tasawwuf_. The word Sidi is derived from _sÃºf_, 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 SÃºfÃ­s. Prof. Edward G. Browne[1] gives four theories in regard to the origin of SÃºfÃ­ism, 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 NÃºshÃ­r-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 SÃºfÃ­ teaching. They form a broad outline of the tenets of SÃºfÃ­ism. The SÃºfÃ­s, 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 SÃºfÃ­s 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 SÃºfÃ­'s essentially personal, as far as the early SÃºfÃ­s were concerned. We shall consider other influences which were brought to bear upon SÃºfÃ­ism a little later on. There is a very great difference between the early SÃºfÃ­ism 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 SÃºfÃ­ism in prose. The SÃºfÃ­ turned the same conception into _poetry_. II. THE EARLY SÃFÃS. AbÃº HashÃ­m (ob. 150 A.H.) was the first to bear the name of SÃºfÃ­, while Dhu'l-NÃºn-al-Misri (245 A.H.) may be said to have given SÃºfÃ­ism its permanent shape. RÄbi'a, of Basra, was the first woman to join the sect, and her saintliness and wise sayings have been preserved by FarÃ­du'd-DÃ­n 'AttÃ¡r. 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." RÄbi'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." 'AttÃ¡r also informs us that when RÄbi'a was asked if she hated the devil, she replied: "My love to God leaves me no time to hate him." RÄbi'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 (_KhÄngÄh_) for the SÃºfÃ­s. Thus in the early days the sect defied their Prophet's condemnation of monkery by building an abode for members of the order. The SÃºfÃ­s 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 SÃºfÃ­s 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 SÃºfÃ­s 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 SÃºfÃ­ism 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 SÃºfÃ­s who seem to have been the prime movers in this new development, by name BayÃ¡zÃ­d and Mansur al-HallÃ¡j. Concerning the saint BayÃ¡zÃ­d 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. BayÃ¡zÃ­d promptly replied: "If I do so again straightway slay me!" His disciples accordingly sharpened their knives. Once more BayÃ¡zÃ­d 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 BayÃ¡zÃ­d'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 BayÃ¡zÃ­d, whose soul had left the mirror of his body and was one with the Beloved. Perhaps the life of Mansur al-HallÃ¡j is even more interesting. Whether he was a mere adventurer or genuine exponent of SÃºfÃ­ism is still open to controversy among modern SÃºfÃ­s. 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-HallÃ¡j 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-HallÃ¡j'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-HallÃ¡j 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-HallÃ¡j, 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 SÃºfÃ­ism--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-HallÃ¡j, 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 SÃºfÃ­s. 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 SÃºfÃ­ism politic significance, and ImÄn GhazÄlÄ« as the first to give it a metaphysical basis. At this time we find in SÃºfÃ­ books many terms borrowed from the Neo-Platonists. Books on ethics, as well as poetry, now became impregnated with SÃºfÃ­ ideas. III. THE NATURE OF SÃFÃISM The SÃºfÃ­s are folk who have preferred God to everything, so that God has preferred them to everything.--DHU'L-NUN.[3] In the IslÃ¡m 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 TesnÃ­m, and the SelsebÃ­l. The great TÅ«ba 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 SÃºfÃ­s 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 SÃºfÃ­s 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 (_HÃ¡l_) 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 JÃ¡mÃ­, from _YÃºsuf-u-ZulaykhÃ¡_, will illustrate the SÃºfÃ­'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 SÃºfÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­ism often fails. The SÃºfÃ­ 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 HÃ¡fiz's lines are no more spiritual than Anacreon's, to whom he has been compared. We have a number of SÃºfÃ­ words with a strictly SÃºfÃ­ meaning; but it would not be wise to strain the analogy of earthly love too far and say that everything that HÃ¡fiz wrote was spiritual. The SÃºfÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­s, 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 SÃºfÃ­ism. We need not fly to Mrs. Grundy and seek shelter under her hypocritical wing when some really devout and sincere SÃºfÃ­ calls God "the Eternal Darling" or sings about the Beloved's curls. In studying SÃºfÃ­ism from SÃºfÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­ism--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 SÃºfÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­ was God calling His lovers into one chamber, one mighty love-feast. JÃ¡mÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­ism. He remarks: "The SÃºfÃ­s, 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 SÃºfÃ­s on account of his self-deification. This critic, in his desire to defame the SÃºfÃ­s, 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 SÃºfÃ­s, and, rightly considered, we cannot even except the sayings of BayÃ¡zÃ­d already referred to, because here he undoubtedly denies all claim to human personality, admitting God only. _Self_-deification is no teaching of the SÃºfÃ­s. 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 SÃºfÃ­, and not an arrogant proclamation of Deity and man being coequal in the earthly existence. The gradually ascending scale of the SÃºfÃ­'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 SÃºfÃ­ 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 SÃºfÃ­ism is essentially a religion of Love without a creed or dogma. No merciless hells leap up in the SÃºfÃ­'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 SÃºfÃ­ 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 SÃFÃISM This love here forms the centre which expands on all sides and into all regions.--HEGEL. Although JalÃ¡lu'd-DÃ­n RÃºmÃ­ lived for fifty years in a Turkish city he scarcely ever used any Turkish words; but nevertheless his influence on Turkish poetry was very considerable. The Turkish poets of that day poured forth innumerable "spiritual couplets" of a mystical nature. Indeed nearly all the Ottoman poets were either SÃºfÃ­s or men who wrote after the manner of the Persian SÃºfÃ­s. JalÃ¡l's son, Sultan Valad, wrote in Turkish the following concerning his father: Wot ye well MevlÃ¡nÃ¡ is of saints the Pole; Whatsoever thing he sayeth, do in whole. All his words are mercies from the Heavenly King; Such that blind folks' eyes were opened, did they sing. The SÃºfÃ­ influence on Turkish poetry, many years after JalÃ¡l's death, gradually weakened as time went on, and their poetry became less mystical. The French were probably responsible for this change to a certain extent. Then, again, SÃºfÃ­ism influenced the poetry of India; but in this case there was influence on both sides, and the SÃºfÃ­s probably borrowed some of the Buddhistic ideas, especially in regard to their later conception of Divine absorption. The following remark of AbÃº Bahu al-ShiblÃ­ certainly points to the belief that the SÃºfÃ­s inculcated certain ideas from the Vedanta Philosophy:--"_Tasawwuf_ is control of the faculties and _observance of the breaths._" SÃºfÃ­ poetry has greatly influenced Western thought. Many of the German mystics wrote as the SÃºfÃ­ poets had written before them. Particularly might be mentioned Eckhart, Tauler and Suso. Concerning the last mentioned I may quote the following passage to demonstrate my meaning: "Earthly friends must needs endure to be distinct and separate from those whom they love; but Thou, O fathomless sweetness of all true love, meltest into the heart of Thy beloved, and pourest Thyself fully into the essence of his soul, that nothing of Thee remains outside, but Thou art joined and united most lovingly with Thy beloved." There was rapturous language both with the Persian and German mystics. The great difference between them was that the German mystics, for the most part, were ascetics, the Persians were not. Then again in the nineteenth century Hegel was loud in his praise of JalÃ¡lu'd-DÃ­n RÃºmÃ­, calling him a great thinker as well as a great poet, but somehow he seems to put JalÃ¡l's Pantheism first, his Mysticism second. Surely this was putting the cart before the horse? To trace the scope of the influence of SÃºfÃ­ thought in England would be extremely interesting, but the limits of this little book will not admit of our doing so. The influence was at first among the few; but optimistic lovers of the East believe that Oriental thought is daily becoming of more interest to Western minds. The student knows that Edward FitzGerald's rendering of Omar KhayyÃ¡m, was anything but a faithful translation; that FitzGerald shook up Omar's words like so many dice and set them to the music of wine, roses, and pessimism. The Omar KhayyÃ¡m Club read FitzGerald, but not Omar KhayyÃ¡m, and in consequence they have fallen into the error of associating Omar with Bacchus. But, nevertheless, we must be grateful to FitzGerald. He has given us a great poem, and stirred, let us hope, many of his countless readers to a more faithful study of Persian poetry. The indefatigable Dr. Johnson has written the following on the Persian poet, who is the subject of our present volume: "He makes plain to the Pilgrim the secrets of the Way of Unity, and unveils the Mysteries of the Path of Eternal Truth." Concerning our modern poets I have quoted elsewhere a few lines of Mr. Arthur Symons on a dancing dervish. Many of the late Thomas Lake Harris's poems are of a SÃºfÃ­ nature. In Mr. Stephen Phillip's beautiful poem "Marpessa," the following lines are full of Sidi mysticism: For they, Seeking that perfect face beyond the world, Approach in vision earthly semblances, And touch, and at the shadows flee away. It is interesting to note that at least one celebrated Englishman adopted the SÃºfÃ­ teaching. I refer to Sir Richard Burton.[7] The SÃºfÃ­s believed heart and soul in the beautiful lines of Cameons, the poet for whom Burton had so great an affection: Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause. He noblest lives and noblest dies who makes and keeps his self-made laws. All other life is living death, a world where none but phantoms dwell; A breath, a wind, a sound, a voice, a tinkling of the camel-bell. V. ANALYSIS OF THE RELIGION OF LOVE Put away the tale of love that travellers tell; Do thou serve God with all thy might. JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ. SÃºfÃ­ism, then, is the religion of Love. Lafcadio Hearn tells us, in his inimitable way, that earthly love is brought about by the memories of innumerable loves in the past, a host of the phantoms of you seeking in your momentary ego the joy of Love over again. Schopenhauer, with much pride, quotes Rochefoucauld as having said that "love may be compared to a ghost since it is something we talk about but have never seen." Precisely; but this is no antagonistic statement, as Schopenhauer supposed. Rather than belittling the beauty of Love, it is an unconscious defence of a very great truth. Love can only be compared with Love. There is nothing else to compare it with. No one has seen Love, because no one has seen God. A little child plays at funerals and tenderly buries a dead butterfly, not because it understands the mystery of Death, but because Love prompted the action. And so we love without knowing the why and the wherefore. Scientists have already proved that first love is not controlled by either of the individuals loving; that it is but the expression of thousands of tendencies in past lives. That Love can be ever personal, ever limited to the individual, is unthinkable. We must recognise some day that those countless tendencies, those strivings after men and women seeming to hold our souls' affinities, were but the momentary finding of God in His creatures. We do not love a woman merely because she is pretty, possesses a pleasing mannerism. We love her because, in an indescribable way, she sings a song we alone can fully understand, a voice that lifts up our soul and makes it strong. We follow that Invisible Figure from land to land, from heart to heart, from Death into Life, on and on. When Love loves Love for its own sake, when the self is dead, we shall meet Him. We shall find the Beloved to be the Perfection, the realisation of that strong desire that made us lose ourselves in others. The more we lose ourselves in God the more we find Him. Men and women love and die. But Love is a Divine Essence working through and through innumerable lives for its own eternal glory. Personality is limited only to the finite world--perhaps a phase or two beyond the grave. Even that is the sum-total of countless so-called personalities in the past. We love instinctively. If it was wholly physical then it dies with the death of the object. If it was infinitely more than that, if it was the love of Goodness and Purity and the Beautiful it lives on for ever. But these things live not eternally in humanity. They are parts of that all-pervading Essence--the Love Divine. Love God's light in men and women, and not the lanterns through which It shines, for human bodies must turn to dust; human memories, human desires, fade away. But the love of the All-Good, All-Beautiful remains, and when such is found in earthly love it is God finding Himself in you, and you in Him. That is the supreme teaching of SÃºfÃ­ism, the religion of Love. [Footnote 1: _A Literary History of Persia_, vol. i.] [Footnote 2: "Among the Adepts and Mystics of Hindostam." _The Occult Review_, December, 1905.] [Footnote 3: For further extracts from SÃºfÃ­ writers see _A Historical Enquiry concerning the Origin and Development of SÃºfÃ­ism_, By R. A. Nicholson. _The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society_, March, 1906.] [Footnote 4: See _History of Ottoman Poetry_, by E. G. W. Gibb, vol. i.] [Footnote 5: Translation by Professor E. G. Browne.] [Footnote 6: Compare the Alexandrian doctrine of Emanations. Also JÃ¡mÃ­'s _LawÄ'ih_. Translated by E. H. Whinfield and MÅ«rzÄ Muhammad KazvÄ«nÄ«.] [Footnote 7: _Life of Sir Richard Burton_. 2 vols. By Thomas Wright.] THE LIFE AND WORK OF JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ I. LIFE JalÃ¡lu'd-DÃ­n RÃºmÃ­ was born at Balkh on September 30th, 1207, A.D., or according to Mohammedan reckoning, in 604 A.H. His father, BahaÅ«-'d-DÃ­n, was a man of much learning, but gave offence to the reigning king by an attack on that monarch's innovations. Another account disputes this in the place of jealousy on the part of the king. Whatever the cause, however, BahaÅ«-'d-DÃ­n left Balkh, together with his family, and settled at Nishapur. It was here that the celebrated SÃºfÃ­, FarÃ­du'd-DÃ­n 'AttÃ¡r, presented young JalÃ¡lu'd-DÃ­n RÃºmÃ­ with his _Asrarnama_,[1] and informed his father that the child would some day become famous throughout the world. After the destruction of Balkh the family went to Qonia,[2] an old Roman province, where the poet acquired his name RÃºmÃ­, or "the Roman." Young JalÃ¡l must have been a child prodigy if we are to believe the many wonderful stories of his early days. At six years of age he is said to have seen visions, taught his playmates philosophy, and performed many marvellous feats, such as flying into the celestial regions. On the death of his father JalÃ¡l took the professorial chair. He also founded an order of Dervishes known as Maulavis, where he authorised music and religious dance. When asked why he introduced singing and dance at a funeral, such practice being contrary to custom, JalÃ¡l replied: "When the human spirit, after years of imprisonment in the cage and dungeon of the body, is at length set free, and wings its flight to the Source whence it came, is not this an occasion for rejoicings, thanks, and dancing?" JalÃ¡l was an indomitable optimist. In his sayings, and still more in his poetry, we find an almost untrammelled ecstasy. The religious dances, known as RizÄ KulÄ«, may in some way account for JalÃ¡l's occasional lack of care displayed in his poetry, and also for the outbursts not far removed from insanity. We are informed by Daulat ShÃ¡h that "There was a pillar in the Maulavi's house, and when he was drowned in the ocean of Love he used to take hold of that pillar and set himself turning round it." It was while turning round the pillar that he not infrequently dictated much of his poetry. As Mr. Arthur Symons has sung: I turn until my sense, Dizzied with waves of air, Spins to a point intense, And spires and centres there.[3] We can well imagine JalÃ¡l writing the following under the conditions just mentioned: "Come! Come! Thou art the Soul, the Soul so dear, revolving! Come! Come! Thou art the Cedar, the Cedar's Spear, revolving! Oh, come! The well of Light up-bubbling springs; And Morning Stars exult, in Gladness sheer, revolving!"[4] In 1226 A.D. JalÃ¡l was married at Lerenda to Gevher (Pearl). She bore two sons and died early in life. JalÃ¡l married again and his second wife survived him. II. SHAMSI TABRIZ A word must now be said about Shamsi TabrÄ«z, an intimate friend of JalÃ¡l. We have sufficient evidence to prove that Shamsi TabrÄ«z, JalÃ¡l's _nom de guerre_, was an actual person, and not a mythical creation on the part of the poet. This mysterious being, who flitted across JalÃ¡l's life so tragically, seems to have had great personal influence over the poet, who went with him into solitary places and there discussed profound mysteries. The scholars of JalÃ¡l looked upon the whole affair as an unworthy infatuation on the part of their Master, and on the part of Shams a shameful seduction. Their protests brought about the flight of Shams, who fled to TabrÄ«z. But it was only a momentary separation. JalÃ¡l followed this strange figure and brought him back again. Most of his lighter poetry was composed during this separation. Another disturbance, however, caused the departure of Shams to Damascus. We then have no clear record of him. Various legends exist in regard to the death of this mysterious person. It may be safely stated, however, that Shams met with a violent death, the exact nature of which it is impossible to say definitely. This strange union is by no means unique in the history of the world's literature. The union, however, in this particular case, is extremely difficult to rightly fathom. We may reasonably infer that JalÃ¡l's intense poetic temperament became fascinated by the dogmatic and powerful Shams. The very treatment of this friendship, both in the Lyrical Poems, and in the _Masnavi_, is SÃºfÃ­ The two following quotations, from many that might be cited, will prove sufficient to illustrate this point: The face of Shamsi DÃ­n, TabrÄ«z's glory, is the sun In whose track the cloud-like hearts are moving. O Shamsi TabrÄ«z, beauty and glory of the horizons, What king but is a beggar of thee with heart and soul? III. THE STORIES OF AL-AFLÄKÃ AND THE DEATH OF JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ.[5] The historian al-AflÄkÃ­, in his collection of anecdotes called Menaqibu 'L 'Arifin,[6] gives a number of stories relating to the miracles and wise sayings of JalÃ¡l. Many of these miraculous performances were followed by the conversion of those who witnessed them. A marvel or a wise saying of JalÃ¡l was generally accompanied by music and dance, which reminds us of the jubilations of the Indian gods after Rama's victories over his enemies. These stories, interesting enough in themselves, can scarcely be credited to such a learned man as JalÃ¡l undoubtedly was. According to tradition he spoke to frogs and fishes, raised the dead to life, and at the same time very ignominiously lost his temper when a disciple who said, after having received JalÃ¡l's instructions: "God willing." After all, the significance of JalÃ¡l lies not in these rather lamentable fairy tales, but in the fruit of his work. JalÃ¡l, like the Lord Buddha, suffered considerably from the addition of fabulous tales and fancies of no real moment to his teachings. Al-AflÄkÃ­ tells a pretty story concerning the tenderness of JalÃ¡l for little children. As the poet passed by some children, they left their play and ran to him and bowed. JalÃ¡l bowed in response. One little boy, some distance off, seeing the honour bestowed upon his playmates, cried to JalÃ¡l: "Wait for me until I come!" And JalÃ¡l waited and bowed to the little child. This story is worth far more than juggler's tricks. JalÃ¡lu'd-DÃ­n RÃºmÃ­ died at Qonia in 1273 A.D., praising God and leaving to the world a vast store of spiritual knowledge and many wise instructions to his son, BahaÅ«-'d-DÃ­n Valad. It is very gratifying to note that at the death of JalÃ¡l his mourners were of all creeds. A Christian was asked why he wept over a Muslim grave, and he replied: "We esteem him as the Moses, the David, the Jesus of our time; and we are his disciples, his adherents." This was indeed a splendid and worthy tribute to the memory of so great a man. I hope I have already demonstrated that the very nature of SÃºfÃ­ poetry is entirely lacking in creed or dogma, and certainly the great singer of the _Masnavi_ has left in his songs a wealth of the wonder of Divine Love. IV. THE NATURE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF JALÃLU'D-DÃN RÃMÃ'S POETRY _The Lyrical_.--We have already noted the acceptance of the _Asrarnama_. Among the other literary influences, according to Mr. Nicholson, we may note the poems of Sana'Ä«, Sa'di, and NÄ«zamÄ«. The fact that JalÃ¡l's poetry sometimes faintly resembles Omar KhayyÃ¡m's is too slight to be of any value. Mr. Nicholson very ably sums up the nature of the _Masnavi_ and _Divan_ respectively: "The one is a majestic river, calm and deep, meandering through many a rich and varied landscape to the immeasurable ocean; the other a foaming torrent that leaps and plunges in the ethereal solitude of the hills." The poetry of JalÃ¡l is not of equal merit. His work seldom if ever has the technical polish of JÃ¡mÃ­. There is too much of it; too much produced in the belief that all his poetry was inspired. He is fond of harping on certain words, and as far as the translations are concerned he has little sense of humour.[7] There was certainly room for a touch of humour in the poet's description of Iblis receiving from God a gift of beautiful women whereby to tempt mankind; but JalÃ¡l entirely ignores it. These weaknesses are almost lost in the strength and purity and lyrical grandeur of many of JalÃ¡l's poems. He carries us along on a torrent of heavenly music. The rhythmic, swing of his wonderful dance is soul-stirring. We seem to move exultantly, ecstatically, to the sound of the poet's singing, far behind the silver stars into the Presence of the Beloved. With what reverence, with what a glow of simile and subtle suggestion he describes the Beauty of the Beloved! With what exquisite passion he foretells the Eternal Union! Then there is a lull in this fierce spiritual song, and JalÃ¡l sings, ever so gently and with an infinite tenderness, about human tears being turned into "rain-clouds." He sings about the meeting of two friends in Paradise, with the oft-repeated refrain, "Thou and I." There seems in this poem an indescribable and almost pathetic play on the idea of human friendship and the Divine Friendship, a yearning tenderness for that human shadow, passing shadow though it be. JalÃ¡l appears to have the power of producing almost orchestral effects in his music of the Spheres. There is that terrific touch of Wagner about his poetry, and in those suggestive Wagner-pauses there is a tenderness of expression more touching, more truly great than the loud triumphant notes. JalÃ¡l has truly said: "Our journey is to the Rose-Garden of Union." He sang about, the Divine Rose-Garden; but he did not forget to sing about the roses that fade and the human hearts that ache. We seem to see JalÃ¡l ever bowing to the little child in all his wonderful singing. _The Masnavi_.--JalÃ¡l is said to have been forty-three years engaged in writing the _Masnavi_. Often whole nights were spent in its composition, JalÃ¡l reciting and his friend Hasam copying it down and sometimes singing portions of the verse in his beautiful voice. At the completion of the first book Hasam's wife died, and two years elapsed before the work was continued. The _Masnavi_ is full of profound mysteries, and is a most important book in the study of SÃºfÃ­ism-- mysteries which must, for the most part, be left to the discernment of the reader. JalÃ¡l himself has said that great Love is silent. It is in Silence that we shall come to understand the supreme Mystery of Love that has no comparison. The key-note to the _Masnavi_ may be found in the Prologue to the first book. The poet here sings of the soul's longing to be united with the Beloved. The fact that he, and all other SÃºfÃ­ poets, use as an analogy the love between man and woman renders the spiritual meaning extremely vague. We have, however, already considered this point in the introduction, and it needs no further explanation. The _Masnavi_ has all the pantheistic beauty of the Psalms, the music of the hills, the colour and scent of roses, the swaying of forests; but it has considerably more than that. These things of scent and form and colour are the Mirror of the Beloved; these earthy loves the journey down the valley into the Rose-Garden where the roses never fade, and where Love is. [Footnote 1: Book of Mysteries.] [Footnote 2: Iconium.] [Footnote 3: _The Fool of the World_.] [Footnote 4: _The Festival of Spring_. Translated by the Rev. Prof. William Hastie.] [Footnote 5: See _The Masnavi_. Translated by Sir James W. Rodhouse.] [Footnote 6: "The Acts of the Adepts."] [Footnote 7: Prof. C. E. Wilson informs me that JalÃ¡l certainly had a very fair sense of humour, and that in the original there is often a clever and witty play on words.] SELECTIONS FROM THE "DÄªVÄNI SHAMSI TABRÄªZ" "I AM SILENT" I am silent. Speak Thou, O Soul of Soul of Soul, From desire of whose Face every atom grew articulate. A CRY TO THE BELOVED Yestereve I delivered to a star tidings for thee: "Present," I said, "my service to that moon-like form." I bowed, I said: "Bear that service to the sun Who maketh hard rocks gold by his burning." I bared my breast, I showed it the wounds: "Give news of me," I said, "to the Beloved whose drink is blood." I rocked to and fro that the child, my heart, might become still; A child sleeps when one sways the cradle. Give my heart-babe milk, relieve us from its weeping, O Thou that helpest every moment a hundred helpless like me. The heart's home, first to last, is Thy City of Union: How long wilt Thou keep in exile this heart forlorn? REMEMBER GOD AND FORGET SELF O spirit, make thy head in search and seeking like the water of a stream, And O reason, to gain Eternal Life tread ever-lastingly the way of Death. Keep God in remembrance till self is forgotten, That thou may be lost in the Called, without distraction of caller and call. "THE PRINCE OF THE FAIR" A garden--may its rose be in flower to Resurrection! An idol--may the two worlds be scattered o'er his beauty! The Prince of the Fair goes proudly forth to the chase at morning; May our hearts fall a prey to the arrow of His glance From His eye what messages are passing continually to mine! May my eyes be gladdened and filled with intoxication by His Message! "MY BODY IS LIKE THE MOON" My body is like the moon which is melting for Love, My heart like Zuhra's[1] lute--may its strings be broken! Look not on the moon's waning nor on Zuhra's broken state: Behold the sweetness of his affection--may it wax a thousandfold! MORTALITY AND IMMORTALITY What a Bride is in the soul! By the reflection of Her face May the world be freshened and coloured like the hands of the newly married![2] Look not on the fleshy cheek which corrupts and decays, Look on the spiritual cheek--may it be sweet and agreeable! The dark body resembles a raven, and the body's world winter; O in spite of these two unpleasants may there be Eternal Spring! THE BELOVED THE DIVINE CONSOLER Thou who art my soul's comfort in the season of sorrow, Thou who art my spirit's treasure in the bitterness of dearth! That which the imagination has not conceived, that which the understanding has not seen, Visited my soul from Thee; hence in worship I turn toward Thee. By Thy grace I keep fixed on Eternity my amorous gaze, Except, O King, the pomps that perish lead me astray. The favour of that one, who brings glad tidings of Thee, Even without Thy summons, is sweeter in mine ear than songs. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * If a never-ceasing bounty should offer kingdoms, If a hidden treasure should set before me all that is, I would bend down my soul, I would lay my face in the dust, I would say, "Of all these the love of such an One for me!" "THOU ART THE SOUL OF THE WORLD" Eternal Life, methinks, is the time of Union, Because Time, for me, hath no place There. Life is the vessels, Union the clear draught in them; Without Thee what does the pain of the vessels avail me? I had twenty thousand desires ere this; In passion for Him not even (care of) my safety remained. By the help of His grace I am become safe, because The unseen King saith to me, "Thou art the soul of the world." "THE VOICE OF LOVE" Every moment the voice of Love is coming from left and right. We are bound for heaven: who has a mind to sight-seeing? We have been in heaven, we have been friends of the angels; Thither, Sire, let us return, for that is our country. THE SEA OF LOVE Mankind, like waterfowl, are sprung from the sea--the Sea of Soul; Risen from that Sea, why should the bird make here his home? Nay, we are pearls in that
{'title': "The Persian Mystics: Jalálu'd-dín Rúmí by Maulana Jalal al-Din Rumi", 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}