“My Friend doth unrelated stand to aught of ruth or clemency:
From His own cup He bade me sup, for such is hospitality!
But when the Wine had circled round, for sword and carpet*
called He.
Who with the Dragon drinketh Wine in Summer, such his fate
shall be!”
Just before his head was struck off, he bade his disciples be of good cheer, for he would return to earth again in thirty days. Three years later three of his disciples, Ḥaydara, ash-Sha'rání, and Ibn Manṣúr, who refused to renounce their belief in him, were decapitated and crucified by Názúk, the Captain of the Guard.
Adh-Dhahabí also wrote a monograph (probably no longer extant) on al-Ḥalláj, and in his Annals he speaks briefly of him as consorting with al-Junayd, 'Amr b. 'Uthmán al-Makkí and other Ṣúfí Shaykhs, and feigning an ascetic life, but being led astray by his megalomania and love of power until he “quitted the circle of the Faith.” Nevertheless, says this author, many of the later Ṣúfís almost deify him, and even the great “Proof of Islám” al-Ghazzálí in his Mishkátu'l-Anwár makes excuses for him, “explaining away his sayings in a sense admirable enough, but far removed from the obvious meaning of the Arabic language. He is also mentioned by Abú Sa'íd an-Naqqásh in his History of the Ṣúfís as accused by some of magical practices and by others of heresy (zindiqa), and indeed the general view of some half-dozen other writers of authority cited by adh-Dhahabí is to the effect that al-Ḥalláj was “a detestable infidel” (Káfir khabíth).
I have dwelt thus fully on the oldest and most authentic accounts of this remarkable man because he became one of the favourite heroes and saints of most of the later Ṣúfís, the Persian mystical poets in particular constantly referring to him with approval and even enthusiasm. Moreover, he may probably be credited with introducing to a large extent the more avowedly pantheistic and thaumaturgic forms of Ṣúfíism with which henceforth we constantly meet. Farídu'd-Dín 'Aṭṭár speaks of him in his Memoirs of the Saints as “that Martyr of God in the Way of God, that Lion of the Thicket of the Search after Truth … that Diver in the Tempestuous Sea,” &c., praises his character and attainments, celebrates his miracles, and adds that “some charge him with practising magic, while some externalists denounce him as an infidel.” “I am astonished,” he remarks a little lower, alluding to Moses and the Burning Bush, “at those who consider it proper that the words, ‘Verily I am God,’ should come from a Tree which was as though non-existent, and who yet regard it as improper that the words, ‘I am the Truth,’ should come from the Tree of Ḥusayn b. Manṣur's being when Ḥusayn was no longer there.”* Abú Sa'íd b. Abi'l-Khayr, the earliest Persian mystical poet, declared that al-Ḥalláj was unequalled in his time, either in the East or the West, in the exaltation of his ecstasies;* and Jámí, who cites this opinion, as well as Ḥáfidh and most of the later mystics, speak in similar terms of admiration.
It was at a later period, probably during the latter part of the eleventh century, that Ṣúfíism was gradually moulded by al-Ghazzálí and others into a more or less philosophical system, and was also, to a considerable extent, brought into alliance with orthodoxy. In this connection it is a notable fact that Saná'í, 'Aṭṭár, and Jalálu'd-Dín Rúmí, the three greatest of the older Persian mystical poets, were all Sunnís; their poems abound with laudatory mentions of Abú Bakr and 'Umar, and they are the declared foes of the Mu'tazilites and Philosophers; while the greatest Shí'ite poets of Persia in early times, Firdawsí and Náṣir-i-Khusraw the Isma'ílí, had little of the Ṣúfí about them. Besides Firdawsí we find mentioned in that section of the Majálisu'l-Múminín, or “Assemblies of [Shí'ite] Believers,” which deals with Persian poets claimed as their own by the Shí'a, the following names: Asadí, Ghaḍá'irí of Ray, Pindár (or Bundár) of Ray, Abu'l-Mafákhir of Ray, Qiwámí of Ray, Kháqání of Shírwán, Anwarí, Salmán of Sáwa, Yamínu'd-Dín of Faryúmad, and practically no other early poets of any eminence. Even the great Sa'dí's grave at Shíráz is neglected, and has been insulted, by his later compatriots because he is known to have been a Sunní.* The immense popularity enjoyed by Jalálu'd-Dín Rúmí in Turkey, where his Mathnawí is the object of the most affectionate and careful study, especially amongst the Mevleví (or so-called “Dancing”) Dervishes, who take their name from him, their great “Master” (Mevla, the Turkish pronunciation of Mawlá), is no doubt due in great measure to the fact that, apart from his transcendental rhapsodies, he is “orthodox.” And here it may be added that all dervishes or faqírs (both words meaning “poor,” i.e., religious mendicants who have embraced a life of voluntary poverty for God's sake) are professedly more or less Ṣúfís, though many of them are, of course, ignorant fellows, who, notwithstanding their glib talk of “ecstasies,” “stations,” and “Annihilation in God,” have very little comprehension of the real scope and purport of the Ṣúfí doctrine.
Of this doctrine it is necessary in conclusion to give a brief sketch, premising that in the form in which it is here presented it is to some extent the product of a later age, and is to be found most fully elaborated in the works of poets like 'Iráqí and Jámí. In Arabic the poems of 'Umar ibnu'l-Fáriḍ and the voluminous writings of the great mystic of the West Shaykh Muḥyiyyu'd-Dín ibnu'l-'Arabí have not yet received the attention they merit from students of Ṣúfíism who choose to regard it as essentially and exclusively Persian in its origin, and who consequently confine their attention to its Persian manifestations.
The Ṣúfí system starts from the conception that not only True Being, but Beauty and Goodness, belong exclusively to The Ṣúfí system. God alone really exists. God, though they are manifested in a thousand mirrors in the Phenomenal World. “God was,” says one of their favourite aphorisms, “and there was naught beside Him;” to which are sometimes added the words, “and it is now even as it was then.” God, in short, is Pure Being, and what is “other than God” (má siwá'u'lláh) only exists in so far as His Being is infused into it, or mirrored in it. He is also Pure Good (Khayr-i-maḥḍ) and Absolute Beauty: whence He is often called by the mystics in their pseudo-erotic poems, “the Real Beloved,” “the Eternal Darling,” and the like. Thus Jámí says, in a passage of which I have published a full translation in another place:* —
“Whatever heart
Doth yield to Love, He charms it. In His love
The heart hath life. Longing for Him, the soul
Hath victory. That heart which seems to love
The fair ones of this world loves Him alone.
Beware! Say not, ‘He is All-Beautiful,
And we His lovers!’ Thou art but the glass,
And He the Face confronting it which casts
Its image in the mirror. He alone
Is manifest, and thou in truth art hid.
Pure Love, like Beauty, coming but from Him,
Reveals itself in thee. If steadfastly
Thou canst regard, thou wilt at length perceive
He is the Mirror also; He alike
The Treasure and the Casket. ‘I’ and ‘Thou’
Have here no place, and are but phantasies
Vain and unreal.”
This, then, is how the Ṣúfís understand the Doctrine of the
Divine Unity (Tawḥíd): not merely is there “no god but
Being, NotBeing, and Phenomenal or
Contingent
Being.
God,” as the Muhammadan profession of Faith
declares, but there is nothing but God. The
World of Phenomena and of the Senses is a
mere Mirage—a reflection of Being on Not-