Shaikh Faizí.

[Text, vol. iii. p. 299.] Commonly called the “chief of Poets.” He excelled in the arts of versification, enigmatic lines and rhyming. In history, in philology, in medicine, in letter-writing, and in composition, he was without a rival. His earlier compositions in verse bear his titular name of Faizí, which he subsequently dignified into Faiyází, in order that it might cor­respond with the grammatical amplification of 'Allámí, by which his younger brother, Abú-l Fazl, was known; but the change was ill-omened, for he survived to enjoy his last title only one or two months, and then met his death with great alarm and inquietude.

As an author, he was sometimes serious, sometimes jocose, conceited, proud, and malevolent. He was full of hypocrisy, malignity, dissimulation, ambition, arrogance, and egotism. In his obstinacy and animosity he reviled the earlier and later Khalífas and disciples, the ancestors and descendants of the Prophet, the wise and the excellent, the pious and the saintly, and, in short, all Musulmáns in general, and ridiculed the prin­ciples of their faith, privately and publicly, by night and by day. His conduct was so abominable, that even Jews, Christians, Hindús, Sabians, and Guebres are considered a thousand times less odious. He acted entirely against the tenets of the Muham­madan religion. What was forbidden in that, was lawful to him, and vice versâ.

He composed a commentary upon the Kurán, consisting entirely of letters without diacritical points, in order to oblite­rate his infamy, but the waters of a hundred oceans will never cleanse the stain he has contracted, until the day of judgment. He composed it in the very height of his drunkenness and impurity, and dogs were allowed to tread on every letter of it. In the same spirit of pride, stubbornness, and infidelity, he met his final doom, and in a manner which I trust no one may again see, or hear of; for when the King paid him a visit on his death-bed, he barked at his face like a dog, as the King himself acknowledged in public; his whole face was swollen, and his lips appeared black, insomuch that the King observed to Abú-l Fazl, “What is this blackness? Surely the Shaikh has been rubbing dentifrice on his teeth, according to the Indian fashion?” “No,” replied Abú-l Fazl, “it is the stain of the blood which he has been spitting.”* In truth, even this scene was but a small retribution for the blasphemies of which he had been guilty, and for the contumelies which he had uttered against the Prophet, the last of the apostles (the peace of God be upon him, and all his family!). Several abusive chronograms were written on the occasion, of which the following are only a few. * * *

He had composed poetry for forty years, correct enough in point of versification and language, but utterly destitute of beauty, either in sentiment or religion.* He has joined the dry bones together pretty well, but the skeleton has no brains. The condiments of verse are sufficiently abundant, but quite tasteless, * * * as is proved by no one remembering his lines, although the very vilest poets meet with some quoters and admirers. Never­theless, he wrote, what with díwáns and masnavís, more than twenty thousand lines, and, notwithstanding that he expended the rich revenues of his jágír upon their transcription, and in sending copies to his friends, far and near, not one of them ever read his poems twice. The following verses of his own selection were given by him to Nizámu-d dín Ahmad and others, as a memento. * * * * Pray tell me what beauty there is in them!

At the time that Shaikh Faizí had gone to take charge of his office of the deputyship of the Dakhin, I wrote him two letters from the foot of the Kashmír hills, and informed him of the cause of the King's displeasure and his refusal to allow me to pay my respects. Upon this he wrote to the King a letter of recommendation, which was couched in the following words, and despatched it, on the 10th of Jumáda-l awwal, A.H. 1000, from Ahmadnagar to Lahore, and orders were given to Abú-l Fazl to place it in the Akbar-náma, so that it might be generally read.

“May it please Your Majesty! Two friends of Mullá 'Abdu-l Kádir have arrived from Badáún in great distress and sorrow, representing that the Mullá has been for some time ill, and that in consequence of his failing to perform the promise which he made respecting his return, the servants of the government have treated him with great severity, and that there is no knowing what the result of it may be. They inquired also if the pro­longed illness of the Mullá was known to Your Majesty.

“Healer of the broken-hearted! Mullá Abdu-l Kádir is a very able man, and is well acquainted with all the sciences usually cultivated by the Mullás of Hindústán, and he was also a pupil of my father's. Your slave has been acquainted with him for nearly thirty-seven years. Besides being a person of deep learning, he is a poet, and composes elegantly in Arabic and Persian. He is not a mere imitator, but an original thinker. He also knows a little of Hindú astrology and accounts, and is not at a loss in any field of knowledge. He is acquainted with foreign, as well as with native music, and can play at both the small and big games of chess; moreover, he writes a pretty good hand. Notwithstanding that he possesses all these accomplish­ments, he is content and entirely divested of avarice, of equable temperament, and a person of excellent morals and manners, but poor, and with no fixed income. He is sincere and warm­hearted, and has every confidence in Your Majesty's kindness.

“At the time that the army was before Kombhalmír, he volunteered to join it. There he did the State good service, and received a donation for his wounds. Jalál Khán Korchí, when he first introduced him at Court, said, ‘I have brought a preacher to present to Your Majesty, that Your Majesty may be gratified.’ Mír Fathu-lla also represented something respecting the Mullá's circumstances, and my worthy brother, Abú-l Fazl, also knows him well. But according to the proverb, ‘A grain of good luck is better than a sack full of skill.’

“As the Court is the abode of the virtuous, I have taken the liberty to bring this destitute person to notice, and to place him before the foot of the throne, as if I was myself present. Did I not advocate his claims at this time, I should consider myself guilty of an offence against the cause of truth and justice.

“May God, the omnipotent, place the slaves of the Court under the heavenly shadow of your royal Majesty! and may he mercifully make their feet firm in pursuing the path of recti­tude and justice, and in acquiring the knowledge of truth! May he preserve Your Majesty as the protector and nourisher of the helpless, the bestower of mercy, the pardoner of errors, through­out the world and all worlds, and bless you with thousands upon thousands of sources of wealth, abundance, grandeur and felicity, upon earth and in heaven! I implore all this for the sake of the pure spirits who surround the throne of grace, and the saints upon earth who join in the matutinal chorus of prayer. Amen, Amen, Amen.”

Should any one, upon perusing this, observe, that Shaikh Faizí's regard and affection for me, which is evidenced by this letter, is but ill requited by the harshness and severity with which I have spoken of him, especially after his death, when the precept of “speak not ill of the dead” should be strictly observed, I have only to reply, that the observation is perfectly just, but under the circumstances, I inquire, what could I do? seeing that the truth of religion and the maintenance of one's faith are paramount to all other obligations, and that the maxim I never deviate from is, that my love and hatred should be subservient to God's cause. Although I was Shaikh Faizí's companion for forty years, nevertheless, after he apostatized from his religion, changed his manners, and entered on vain controversies, I became gradually estranged from him, and, especially after what occurred at his death, I hold myself no longer his friend. When we are all summoned before the throne of God, we shall receive sentence according to our deserts!

Shaikh Faizí left a Library of 4600 volumes, some of them exquisitely copied with, what may be said to be, even unnecessary care and expense. Most of them were autographs of the respec­tive authors, or at least copied by their contemporaries. They were all transferred to the King's Library, after being catalogued and numbered in three different sections. The first included Poetry, Medicine, Astrology, and Music; the second, Philosophy, Súfyism, Astronomy, and Geometry; and the third or lowest grade, included Commentaries, Traditions, Theology, and Law. There were also 101 different copies of his poem, Nal-Daman.