He has taken Ḥaqqī as his poetical name. He is a compen­dium of perfect qualities and a source of excellence. He gives instruction in all branches of knowledge, both in those in which the reasoning faculty is called into play and in those which depend on the memory. He has attained a high degree in Ṣūfī-ism, and among his works are the History of Madīnah the Tran­quil , and a book on the modern Shaikhs of India, the date of the writing of which is given by the words zikru-'l-Auliyā.* From his earliest youth he has sought eagerly after God, and, on account of his long-standing friendship with them he was for some time the companion, in Fatḥpūr, of Shaikh Faiẓī and Mīrzā Niāmu-'d-dīn Aḥmad, and by means of them I also had the honour of being permitted to wait on him, and continually enjoyed the advantages of his society. When a change came over the spirit of the time and the men of the time, all of whom are corrupters of what is good and compounded of the abominations of their own natures, and it was no longer safe to trust the dis­positions of one's friends, the companionship of such a one and such a one* became disagreeable to him, and, the grace of God influencing him, he was impelled to journey to the most noble Ka‘bah, and he left Dihlī for Gujarāt, in the condition of one who is mysteriously attracted by God, and cut off from all worldly concerns. Thanks to the good offices and assistance of Mīrzā Niāmu-'d-dīn Aḥmad he there obtained a passage on a ship bound for the Ḥijāz, but, being hindered by physical difficulties, he was unable to reach Madīnah the Tranquil (on its inhabitants be peace and salutation!), and he spent some time in Makkah the glorious with Shaikh ‘Abdu-'l-Wahhāb of India, the follower of ¹¹⁴ Shaikh Raḥmatu-'llāh the traditionist (may the mercy of God be upon him!), who, having returned from the pilgrimage to Makkah with Ḥājī Begam,* came to Agra, where I drank some of the water of Zamzam* from his auspicious hands, and took some lessons from him in the traditional sayings of Muḥammad, by way of a good augury, and from him, Shaikh ‘Abdu-'l-Wahhāh, that is, he received permission to give instruction in the tradi­tional sayings, and then returned to his well-loved native land. Here he cloaks his Ṣūfī-ism by giving instruction in those branches of knowledge which are included in the ordinary course of education. His aspirations are so high that he will not, if God the most High please, be ensnared on his heavenly way, and fail of attaining his object.

At the time when he returned from Makkah the glorious to Dihlī, and I, perplexed and troubled in pursuit of my object, was on my way to the imperial camp, I had the opportunity of paying my respects to him for a few minutes, and after I had arrived at Lāhōr I wrote him a letter. I place a copy of it on record by way of invoking a blessing and as a memento:—

“After expressing my subjection to you, and the obligations which I owe you, I would represent that the affairs of this dis­appointed exile are, so far as is compatible with exile and dis­appointment, matter for thankfulness, and it is my hope that you too are constantly surrounded by God's protection. When you returned to Dihlī and honoured me for one delightful hour, that interview did nothing but excite my thirst and vehement desire for your society, and so much remained unsaid and unheard that I cannot express it. ‘A year of companionship is but an hour’* as has been said, and I myself experienced the truth of the say­ing. Indeed, the same might be said even of lifelong companion­ship (between friends). They said, ‘We have tarried for a day, or part of a day.’* This world does not allow us sufficient time for companionship, or the delights of the society of friends, if their friendship be true and its bonds strong: it may be that on the morrow, beyond the grave, we shall enjoy this companionship, ‘seated face to face on thrones’* please God. To-day we must devote our efforts to strengthening the bonds and to directing ¹¹⁵ our aims aright. The time for true companionship will be the morrow, when presence and absence will be alike, and what we here call separation and union will be the same. May God (be He glorified and exalted!) grant to us some kind of affinity, even though it should be common to all, so that we may under­stand truly what sincerity really means. I pray you to keep your heart towards me, as mine is towards you. I have ascer­tained with the eye of certainty that the real meaning of affection and the true signification of friendship have implanted themselves in your nature, ‘and praise be to God therefor.’ May he increase them and not diminish them.’ There was an honoured man, one of the dwellers in the two holy places, who used constantly to recite this prayer:—‘O God! as Thou hast favoured so do Thou increase Thy favours, and as Thou hast increased them so do Thou continue them, and as Thou hast continued them, so do Thou bless them to us.’ May God (be He glorified and exalted!) increase, continue, and bless to us the gift of true knowledge and love, by the dignity of the chief of the first and the last of men, Muḥammad, and his family, and his companions, all of them! If you should ever honour your friend with a kind letter I hope that you will also honour and delight me with whatever holy news you may have of his holiness the Shaikh, him to whom all men turn, and who is named Kalīmu-'llāh (may God bless and pre­serve him!), and that you will convey to his noble presence a few words from me, so that I may not disappear from his memory. Much as I wished to write something on this subject my pen refused its office. Nor was there any need that I should write any­thing, for when the time came for me to make my requests of the Mīrzā* I composed some verses on this subject, moreover I wrote plainly that there was no occasion for ceremony. I hope that you will be diligent in delivering that letter. Farewell.”

Shaikh Faiẓī, after his return from the Dakan, following his old custom of ingeniously tormenting his friends, was very desirous of gathering them round him in order to increase the attractions of his social circle and to indulge in conversation with them and was constantly annoying and troubling them (to come to him).

¹¹⁶ He sent several letters from Lāhor to express the strong desire which he had of summoning Shaikh ‘Abdu-'l-Ḥaqq to him. The Shaikh, however, was exceedingly vexed, and would not come, but sent letters containing excuses, and made his seclusion from the world his pretext for not coming. Shaikh Faiẓī then sent in reply the letter of which a copy appears below, and this is the last letter which he wrote, and what is written in it is written.

“My strong desire of seeing you, my spiritual friend, dear to the Lord (may He long preserve you!) was not of the nature of official or formal matters, that it should have been reduced to writing. At first I was not aware that you were sick at heart— that heart which displays bounty—and it is probable that I may have expressed my desire (somewhat too strongly). After I became aware that you had closed this way of access I gave your wishes precedence over my own, and I trust that the odour (of this action) will be agreeable to you. My request now is that you should not give yourself over to melancholy in your place of retirement. Two or three days ago that choicest of saints, Miyān Shaikh Mūsā,* honoured my poor dwelling with a visit, and said that it was not improbable that you would be coming hither about this time. I pressed him to tell me what grounds he had for saying this, but he left the matter uncertain and undeter­mined. I swear by God, the Supreme Object of worship, that I gave him no hint of my own wishes, nor shall I do so.

If you remain at home, it is light, and if you come it will be light upon light. I swear by God that I have constrained myself to forego this wish and that I have not of my own accord given any intimation of my desire, nor shall I do so. I hope that you will not vex yourself further regarding this matter. But if I had wings I would sit daily on the roof of your chamber and would gather ¹¹⁷ the grains of your affectionate discourse, trilling forth the song of my desire. What more shall I write? Your pearl-like* petitions are few and far between. I pray you for God's sake close not the road against the caravan of my secrets. If it is closed from your side it shall not be from mine. Greetings. I send supplications to the Alexander of the throne of holy poverty, Miyān Buhlūl. In the past two days what is expressed in the following quatrain has come to pass in a certain counection:—

Quatrain.

“Faiẓī! Old age is upon thee, walk circumspectly,
Let each step that thou takest be such as may be
approved.
Through spectacles of glass thou wilt perceive naught,
Tear a bit from thy heart and place it on thine eyes.”

Glory be to God! That Shaikh Faiẓī has passed away and become a by-word, and as for these, the mention of whom is still among us for a few days, or rather for a few hours, who are they that we should waste time in addressing them where preparation is even now being made for our departure hence? All that re­mains to them is the wind of speech. How long shall we waste our time in measuring it?

Couplet.

It will not be long before no trace of us remains,
You have broken the flask and spilt the wine, there is no
cupbearer (to replace it).