“Know that after the death of the Apostle of God the most excel­lent of the Muslims were not at the time distinguished by any distinctive name save in regard to their companionship with the Apostle, seeing that there existed no greater distinction than this; wherefore they were called ‘the Companions.’ And when those of the second period came in contact with them, such of these as had held converse with the ‘Companions’ were named the ‘Followers,’ a title which they regarded as of the noblest. Then those who succeeded them were called ‘Followers of the Followers.’ There­after men differed, and diverse degrees became distinguished, and the elect of mankind, who were vehemently concerned with matters of religion, were called ‘Ascetics’ and ‘Devotees.’ Then heresies arose, and there ensued disputes between the different sects, each one claiming to possess ‘Ascetics,’ and the elect of the people of the Sunna (the Sunnites), whose souls were set on God, and who guarded their hearts from the disasters of heedlessness, became known by the name of Ṣúfís; and this name became generally applied to these great men a little before the end of the second century of the Flight” (A.H. 200 = A.D. 815-816).

A little further on (op. cit., p. 34) Jámí explicitly states that the term “Ṣúfí” was first applied to Abú Háshim, who was born at Kúfa, but passed most of his life in Syria, and died in A.D. 777-8; and (p. 36) that the Ṣúfí doctrines were first explained and expressed by Dhu'n-Nún of Egypt, a pupil of Málik (the founder of the Málikite school mentioned above), who died in A.D. 860, that they were expanded, systematised, and reduced to writing by Junayd of Baghdad (d. A.D. 910), and openly preached in the pulpit by Shiblí (d. A.D. 945). Very few of the great Ṣúfí teachers lived before the close of the second century of the Flight (A.D. 815-816): Ibráhím b. Adham († A.D. 777), Dá'úd of Ṭayy († A.D. 781), Fuḍayl b. 'Iyáḍ († A.D. 803), and Ma'rúf of Karkh († A.D. 815), were, I think, the only ones of note except the above-men­tioned Abú Háshim. Ḥasan of Baṣra († A.D. 728), who has been already spoken of in connection with the Mu'tazilites, is sometimes reckoned amongst them; but, as Dozy has pointed out,* his sombre religion, chiefly inspired by fear, contrasts sharply with the religion of love proper to the mystics. The saintly woman Rábi'a al-'Adawiyya* († 752-753) is a far better type of the true mystic, and many of her sayings strongly recall those of Saint Theresa. It is in allusion to her that Jámí says in his Nafaḥát (ed. Nassau Lees, p. 716):—

Wa law kána 'n-nisá'u ka-má dhakarná
La faḍḍaltu 'n-nisá'a 'ala'r-rijáli;
Fa la't-ta'níthu li'smi 'sh-shamsi 'ayb^un,
Wa la 't-tadhkíru fakhr^un li'l-hiláli.

“Were women all like those whom here I name,
Woman to man I surely would prefer;
The Sun is feminine,* nor deems it shame;
The Moon, though masculine,* depends on her.”

The following anecdote told by Dozy* is typical of her attitude: One day, being ill, she was visited by Ḥasan of Baṣra and Shaqíq of Balkh. The former said, “That one is not sincere in faith who does not patiently endure the chastening of the Lord.” Shaqíq, desiring to improve upon this, said, “That one is not sincere in faith who does not find pleasure in the chastening of the Lord.” But Rábi'a replied, “That one is not sincere in faith who, in the contemplation of the Lord, does not forget the chastening.”

It is related in the Memoirs of the Saints compiled by Shaykh Farídu'd-Dín 'Aṭṭár, a great Persian mystic of the thirteenth century, that she was once asked, “Dost thou hate the Devil?” “No,” she replied. They asked, “Why not?” “Because,” said she, “my love for God leaves me no time to hate him.” “I saw the Prophet of God,” she continued, “in a dream, and he asked me, ‘O Rábi'a, dost thou love me?’ ‘O Apostle of God,’ I replied, ‘who is there who loveth thee not? But the love of God hath so taken possession of every particle of my being that there is no room left me to love or hate any one else.’”

These sayings, which might be indefinitely multiplied, will indicate the character of this early mysticism of Islám. The wild pantheistic character which is later assumed, especially in Persia, was, as I think, superadded to it at a much later date. The philosophy—so far as it can be called a philosophy— which it gradually developed is, in my opinion, mainly of Neo-Platonist origin,* and, contrary to a view which, though losing ground, is still very prevalent, was very little, if at all, influenced by Indian speculations.* Von Kremer differentiates the earlier Arabian quietist Ṣúfíism from the later Persian pantheistic development, expressing the opinion* “that Ṣúfíism proper, as it finds expression in the different Dervish orders (which I sharply distinguish from the simple ascetic aim which already appeared in the earliest Christianity, whence it passed over into Islám) arose essentially from Indian ideas, and in particular from that school of Indian philosophy known by the name of Vedánta.”

In another place* he says:—

“It appears, indeed, that Ṣúfíism took into itself two different elements, an older Christian-ascetic, which came strongly to the front even in the beginning of Islám, and then later a Buddhist-contemplative, which soon, in consequence of the increasing influence of the Persians on Islám, obtained the upper hand, and called into being the Mystics proper of Islám. The former aim expressed more the Arabian character, the latter the Persian.”

Fully admitting the force and value of this distinction, I am not convinced that the existence of Indian influence has been satisfactorily proved. Persian studies have suffered much at the hands of Indianists and Comparative Mythologists and Philologists, e.g., in the attempts made to explain the Avesta solely from the Vedas without regard to the Zoroastrian tradition on the one hand, and in the favour accorded, particularly in England and Germany, to the hideous Indian pronunciation of the modern language on the other, not to mention the exaggerated admiration often expressed for the Persian compositions of Indian writers, and the concurrent neglect of all Persian literature produced in Persia during the last four centuries;* and we have good reason to be on our guard against the tendency of Indianists to trace everything, so far as possible, to an Indian origin, or to generalise about “the Aryan genius.” Long before Neo-Platonism came to the Arabs it was, as has been already observed (p. 167 supra) brought to Persia in the days of Núshírwán (sixth century of our era), and I confess that, so far as I can judge, Ṣúfí pantheism presents far more striking analogies with Neo-Platonism than with either Vedántism or Buddhism, while historically it is much more likely that it borrowed from the first than from either of the two last. To the later develop­ments of Ṣúfíism, to which alone those remarks apply, we shall recur in a subsequent chapter.

Before leaving the religious manifestations of this epoch, it is proper to remind the reader what religions, besides Judaism, The Mandæans or Mughtasila. Zoroastrianism, and Christianity, and what philosophies, besides those of the Greeks, were still active and potent forces in Western Asia. Apart from Manichæanism, of which we shall have a few more words to say, elements of the old Babylonian civilisation were represented by the Mandæans or true Sabæans (Ṣábiyún) of the marshes between Wásiṭ and Baṣra (the ancient Chaldæa), also named by the Arabs from their frequent ceremonial ablutions al-Mughtasila, which term, misapprehended by the Portuguese navigators of the seventeenth century, gave rise in Europe to the absurd misnomer “Christians of St. John the Baptist.”

*

From these true Sabæans the pseudo-Sabæans of Ḥarrán (the ancient Carrhæ) must be carefully distinguished. The learned The Pseudo­Sabæans of Ḥarrán. Chwolson was the first to explain in his great work Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus (2 vols., St. Peters­burg, 1856) the apparently hopeless confusion which till that time had surrounded the term “Sabæan.” Here we must confine ourselves to stating the curious fact which he brought to light, viz., that since about A.D. 830 two perfectly distinct peoples have been confounded together under this name, to wit, the above-mentioned Mandæans or Mughtasila of Chaldæa, and the Syrian heathens who flourished at Ḥarrán (about half-way between Aleppo and Márdín) until the eleventh century of our era,* and that this confusion was brought about in the following ways.* When the Caliph al-Ma'mún passed through the district of Ḥarrán on his last campaign against the Byzantines, he remarked amongst the people who came out to meet him and wish him God-speed certain persons of strange and unfamiliar appearance, wearing their hair extremely long, and clad in tightly-fitting coats (qabá). Al-Ma'mún, astonished at their appearance, inquired who and what they were, to which they replied, “Ḥarránians.” Being further questioned, they said that they were neither Christians, Jews, nor Magians; while to the Caliph's inquiry “whether they had a Holy Book or a Prophet,” they returned “a confused reply.” Convinced at last that they were heathens (“Zindíqs and worshippers of idols”), the Caliph ordered them, under pain of death, either to embrace Islám, or to adopt “one of the religions which God Almighty hath mentioned in His Book,” giving them respite for their decision till his return from the war. Terrified by these threats, the Ḥarránians cut their long hair and discarded their peculiar garments, while many became Christians or Muhammadans; but a small remnant would not forsake their own religion, and were greatly perplexed and troubled until a Muhammadan jurist offered, for a consideration, to show them a way out of their difficulty. So they brought him much fine gold from their treasuries, and he counselled them to call themselves Sabæans when al-Ma'mún returned to question them, since the Sabæans were mentioned in the Qur'án, yet, since little was known of them, the change of name would involve no change of beliefs or customs. But al-Ma'mún returned not, for death overtook him on that march; and most of the Ḥarránians who had declared themselves Christians at once openly apostatised, and returned to their old beliefs, which their brethren who had adopted Islám dared not do, since apostasy is punished with death in the Muhammadan law. And “since that time,” says the narrator, “they have kept this name (of Sabæans); for previously there were in Ḥarrán and the surrounding district no people who bore the name of Sabæans.”